The Center: Patient Zero
By: Starbuck

Prologue
Center Prime - Briefing Room

Kristyn slid into chair at the head of the conference table five minutes early, seizing the moment to make one final review her notes on the day's schedule. Four weeks previously, the Colonel had turned the daily briefing over for her to run. After a week of sitting at the table being 'the last to know', she had realized that running the center was much akin to her time spent as a role-playing game-master. The department heads were not there to inform her, she was there to make sure that they informed each other. In the subsequent weeks, she had made it a point to be in the know on all aspects of the center and on the day's briefing before her department heads entered the room. That second Monday had seen a marked improvement in the flow of the meeting, she had asked insightful questions of each person's report and made some well taken suggestions. By the end of that week the Colonel had even grunted a 'well done Keys' on his way out.

As the clock ticked closer to the meeting, the staff, now her staff, began entering. Ray and Tony rolled through the door giving each other grief about the performance of their favorite ball clubs. Dani drifted in close behind the two boys. Dr. Tipps, Ms. Fine and the other adult leadership entered, most making a beeline for the coffee pot and engaging in light smalltalk. Last to enter was the Colonel.

A cup of coffee touched down on the table by her left elbow. "Morning Mom." Liz whispered, long, straight, black hair brushed against Kris' cheek as her daughter gave her a quick hug before sliding around the table to her seat. "We missed you at breakfast."

"I ate early," Kris lifted the folder in front of her. "We got in late and I needed to review."

Colonel Harris filled his mug with black coffee and approached the table. "Ms. and Miss Keys." Every since Liz had adopted Kristyn's last name, the Colonel had used the neutral honorific or referred to Kris by her rank. With a curt nod, he took the seat opposite and began reviewing his own stack of papers.

Precisely on the hour, everyone else joined the three of them at the table. Calling the meeting to order, Kristyn orchestrated the daily litany of reports that came with making sure The Center operated smoothly and its residents were in top condition. As per usual she began with the facilities side of the operation. That this also had the adults going first and thus encouraged the kids to be more open in their reports had not gone unnoticed by the Colonel. In short order the mundane and routine were put behind them leaving only Tony's report on the newly emergent.

Of course, his briefing was the only one that Kristyn never had any preliminary information on. Looking up from her note-filled agenda Kris turned her full attention to the clairvoyant teen.

"So Tony what are we looking at, near term?"

Tony cleared his throat. "Well, it appears we have a quiet couple of weeks. Just one emergence, though it looks to be a bit of a first."

"How so?"

"So far all of us have been civilians," he glanced towards the Colonel. "Our new brother is a Junior ROTC member and her emergence event will occur in the middle of her training rotation."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Colonel Harris answered. "Who is she and where is the ROTC flight training."

"The unit is at Fort Bragg and the girl's name is Jessica Harris."

A sharp crack echoed off the walls as the handle of the Colonel's empty mug snapped off.

~~~***~~~

"Kris," Dani's grip was iron at her elbow as she steered the Mediterranean beauty down the administrative corridor. "You have to go in and talk to him."

"All right, Dani. I'm doing it!" Kristyn managed to shrug out of her best friends grip.

"Get him to open up about this next mission. Something about it is tearing him apart."

"Well duh!" Kris snapped, freezing the young african-american girl in place, briefly. "The girl's name is Harris, Dani!"

"Keys," The Colonel's gruff voice came from the office door beside them. "You and Marks better come in."

Dani tried to hide behind Kris as the two of them moved through the doorway and stood before two of the chairs. With a solid click, the Colonel latched the door behind them. Kris didn't need her friend's empathic powers to feel the pain radiating through the Colonel's tight control. Returning to the far side of his desk, the Colonel's step had the cadence of a funeral march. Neither girl recalled having ever seen the Colonel appear so, human.

"Have a seat, Ladies."

Folding into the chair, Kris bit her lower lip and tried to look at the Colonel's shoes through his desk. "So, this Jessica Harris. Is she your niece? Cousin?"

Colonel Harris shook his head.

"Sister?"

The stoic expression on his face did not waver.

Dani's jaw dropped open. "Oh my God. She's your daughter!"

Eyes narrowing, a heavy sigh escaped from the paragon of control behind the desk. "Ladies, rampant speculation, while a common teenage trait, does not become either of you."

Standing, he turned to stare out the window at the rolling hills. "No, this Jessica Harris is no relation of mine.: He placed a hand against the cool glass as if caressing the distant hills. "The other one wasn't either, though by the end..."

Silence descended over the room like an uncomfortably warm blanket. The two teens began to squirm in their seats while their host continued to stare out the window. Kristyn was inching toward the edge of her chair to excuse Dani and herself and leave the Colonel to his memories when he finally spoke.

"I've read every psych profile for every member of this command. I know exactly what each and every one of you first thought when you realized that you're in a government facility. Hell, some of you still firmly believe it, even with the evidence of the other organizations arrayed against us out there. I know I've made this commitment to the two of you before, but I will repeat it now as I swear it every morning to the mirror."

Turning, he met and held their eyes. "On the body and life of my dead foster daughter, I swear that The Center shall only ever exist to help and protect the children affected by these changes." His shoulders slumped and he sat heavily in the chair behind the desk.

"Trust is a big part of why your team... why any team works well Kris. It is time that I extended that trust to a personal level. You have a right to know what makes me tick and I trust you to handle the information in an appropriate manner. You've been allowed to believe that Brian, may his soul find peace, was the first of you to emerge. This isn't exactly true. I've carried Jessica's story for 14 long years and it is well and truly time that our patient zero's was acknowledged within our ranks.

"As with all your stories, it begins seventeen years ago with the break-in at Genetech by a S.A.L.T. B & E team..."

First Interlude
Genetech Research Facility

"Cumin, status."

"Security system is off line, come on in!"

"Rosemary, Basil and Thyme, you're free to move to position two."

"On the way."

"Nutmeg, the rent-a-cops are yours. Give them a good show."

"Got it."

Moments later the engine roar of their stolen Suburban came screaming down the deserted highway in front of the research facility. The lights suddenly bobbed and jerked sideways and the massive vehicle spun out in the entrance turn, slid backwards and slammed back-end first into the large oak trees beside the security gate. The distressed complaint of the tire-rubber and the massive crunch arriving at hilltop post a moment later.

"All good." Nutmeg's voice crackled over the radio.

The team leader, known tonight only as Cinnamon merely shook his head slowly. One of these days, that insane girl was going to kill herself with a distraction stunt, but it had the proper effect. From his overwatch position he could see two security guards from the building running toward the front gate.

"Pepper Team. Drop and freeze." In the surplus, low-light goggles he could see Rosemary, Basil and Thyme hit the ground at position two as the inside guards thundered by. He snorted, if the trailing guard stumbled, there would be thunder, and probably an earthquake too. Hell, if the round one keeled over with a heart attack, as far as Cinnamon was concerned, that would be one less grease addicted burger eater.

After the fat guard finally rolled by the team, he signaled them the all-clear to move to position three. Cumin, in his security uniform, met them at the side door. Break-ins were so much easier when someone on the inside could turn off the security system.

The team knew their jobs Cumin would guide them to the critical labs to be trashed while maintaining proper communication with his 'buddies' at the gate. Pepper Team would first destroy any research notes they found, then they would upload viruses to every computer system they encountered. Next, they'd dump any in-progress research. Along the way they would graffiti the entire facility with the S.A.L.T. mantra Saving Animal Lives TODAY! Finally the four of them would release any poor creatures that were held in the facility and escape, propping open all the doors to the outside on their way.

Cinnamon continued to watch as the security guards struggled to help a hysterical Nutmeg out of the totaled SUV. Crazy or not, that Shanahan girl knew exactly how to pull a distraction.

"Mission complete, extraction underway."

Cinnamon glanced at the heavy crystal his dive-watch and pressed the plunger on the timer. Twelve minutes. Not bad, their time could be a little quicker, but not bad at all. At the debrief, he would give them a little time to feel good about it before marking up improvements for their next action. There was a paper-mill operator in the Boston that hadn't yet gotten the message about dumping their waste where the fish lived.

"Acknowledged. Rendezvous at the Hope Springs water plant."

Cumin would stay in the nearby woods, using his radio to keep the other guards at the gate as long as possible. Emergency vehicles were beginning to arrive on the scene. With a sigh, the former SEAL slipped behind the wheel of his completely sensible Toyota and started down the hillside. Time to go play the distraught father and pull their little nutcase out of the fire.

Chapter One
T minus 9 days to Transformation

"What's up sport?" John Lee paused in reorganizing the small mountain of hurricane supplies that graced one whole side of their two car garage.

His son Jesse stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. "Captain Baker called. He said the base has a water problem. It's fine for showers, but it's not drinkable. The base is trucking in potable water from the surrounding towns, but there's a budget issue so he's asking us to each bring at least 10 cases of bottled water for drinking."

John chuckled. "Not a problem Jess, we should probably begin to rotate this stock anyway." Several months previously their warehouse club had a really good deal on Eternal brand water. They'd bought 200 cases which were now stacked against the front wall of the garage.

"So, you have me until tomorrow afternoon, Dad." Jess stepped through the door, closing it behind him and propping his elbows on the landing rail. "What's the plan?"

"Oh, just the typical touch everything twice operation," John groaned. "Your mother bought a dozen baker's racks and a couple packs of bungee cords. She wants us to move the pile, assemble the racks and then organize everything on the shelves. She's promised to dive in and help when she and Anita get back from the beauty-parlor."

John cringed as Jesse vaulted the rail, bypassing the steps. He walked over and studied the stack of baker's rack boxes. When he looked at the cover picture the sixteen year old face broke into a smile. "So Dad. What's it worth to you if I can make this job a LOT simpler."

John looked over at his son, wondering when the boy was going to hit his growth spurt. At five foot two inches, he was still shorter than his mother and his little sister was about to pass him by. "I don't know Son. What are you thinking?"

"Well," Jesse's grin turned sly. "Frank's dad has that old Nissan 280."

John groaned and laughed simultaneously. "Okay, I give. If your idea gets this job done before you leave, then we'll go talk to Mike and Frank when you get back from Bragg."

Now Jesse began to laugh. "Dad, you do know you're blind sometimes."

"Oh?"

Jesse walked around the stack of baker's rack boxes and nonchalantly began to tap his finger on the wheels at the bottom of the picture.

"You know Son, I love how you think."

~~~***~~~

Lieutenant Harris stopped outside of his new commander's office, knocked twice and waited. And waited. He was about to knock again when he heard gruff 'come in' through the frosted glass. Entering he came to attention and saluted the officer behind the desk.

"First Lieutenant Nicholas Harris reporting for duty, Sir."

He held his pose, salute crisp, eyes front, taking in the room via his peripheral vision. The deep cherry desk, spotless and polished so that it gave a near perfect reflection of the blue sky visible through the office window. Lined up at a precise forty-five degree angle in the right corner were three AT&T standard phones, one black, one green and one red. At the front of the desk sat a brass and black name placard that read 'Colonel Charles R. Wallace' in simple white letters. Aligned in the center of the desk, with millimetric precision sat a single, thick folder, closed. Slowly the Colonel behind the desk opened the folder, lifted out the first sheet, read it, put it back and closed the folder before standing and returning the salute.

"At ease, Lieutenant."

Harris relaxed his pose, widening his stance and clasping his hands in the small of his back.

"Welcome back to the Airborne, Lieutenant. Your fitrep indicates that you were top of your OCS class."

"Yes Sir. Thank you Sir."

The Colonel leaned forward onto the desk, leaving a pair of hand-prints on the glossy surface. "I'm not finished Lieutenant."

Harris clamped his jaw shut. The indications were becoming clearer that Wallace was a throwback to a different time; a martinet who demanded absolute perfect obedience from his command.

"I've never liked mustang's, Harris." The Colonel resumed his seat. "Enlisted are enlisted and officers are officers. Too many mustangs forget that. While you are an officer under my command Lieutenant Harris, you - will - not. Fraternization with non-officer subordinates will not be tolerated. Am I completely understood Lieutenant?"

His mind whirling, he unlocked his jaw. "Perfectly Sir."

"Now, to drive this point home, Lieutenant, your first assignment is the command of Junior ROTC training rotations during this summer. A little time herding cats will be good for you."

"Yes sir." Harris replied.

"Dismissed, Lieutenant."

He could feel the sneer with which the Colonel laced his rank. With a letter-perfect salute, the new Lieutenant spun on his heel and marched out of the office.

~~~***~~~

Jesse looked over at the rapidly dwindling stack of bottled water cases beside his bunk. He was really glad that he'd decided to double Captain Baker's recommendation. While he had intended the extra to be for others, at the rate he had plowed through the first eight cases, he'd be lucky if it lasted out the entire trip.

Slipping his empty canteen off the web-belt, he proceeded to fill it from the bottles in the top case. Two and a half bottles later, he screwed the cap back on the canteen and returned it to the pouch on the gear. Tilting the remaining half-bottle to his lips, he drained it in one long pull.

"Good idea Jess," his bunkmate, Frank Murphy said from the upper rack while fumbling his own canteen off his web-gear. "Can you pass three of mine up? They're saying it will break a hundred tomorrow."

"Humidity tomorrow's supposed to be a real bitch," one of the other cadets groused.

"Language Jack!" Several voices snapped. Followed by a disgruntled "I ain't doin' no more K-P because of yo mouth Smith."

"Lights out in five, Cadets." Lieutenant Harris' voice sounded from the door.

There was a scramble as the guys skinned down to their boxers or briefs, folded their uniforms and crawled into their racks. With the heat, P-T would be done early in the morning. Jess wasn't looking forward to it. He'd gotten queasy that morning and felt more than a little dizzy during the run. As the lights went out, Jess made a mental note to ask Lieutenant Harris if he'd be willing follow them with a mule loaded down with extra water instead of joining them for the run. As the flight quartermaster, he was pretty sure it would not be hard to convince him. Besides, the Lieutenant actually seemed to care.

The hum of the large fan cans at the end of the room quickly lulled the boys to sleep.

Chapter Two
Transition plus four hours

Beep.

Jesse groped blindly through a thick fog.

Beep.

Somewhere ahead a car horn had blared out.

Beep.

Or was it a kitchen microwave?

Beep.

The migraine to end all migraines crashed against the inside of Jess's skull with the impact of a Banzai Pipeline wave. Then, with excruciating slowness, the pain began to recede.

Beep.

Brilliant red light flooded into the recesses in which Jesse's whimpering brain had attempted to cower from the painful noise. An inarticulate cry welled up inside and fought its way out past a dry and abraded throat.

Beep.

"Uuhhaaauuuuuu."

The sound of elephants dragging metal trees across a gravel bed in a hailstorm accosted Jesse's ears. A loud crack and devastating thunder was followed by a swift and oppressive silence. A silence too good to last as another crack and thunder was followed by a herd of elephants bringing the trees back.

"JESSE, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Wincing, Jess tried to move away from the obnoxiously loud voice. Unfortunately, the wince and movement made the headache worse. Now the Banzai Pipeline was composed of tiny metal ball bearings swimming in a sea of battery acid. Nausea declared war on his control and nearly won the day with its opening bombardment.

"Sorry, Jesse. Headache?" The voice returned at a more normal if not any less painful volume. "Nurse, please turn out the lights."

"Uhhhnnhhmmm." Blissful darkness descended like cool milk over Jesse's brain. "Ahhhhh."

"Don't try to talk," the voice returned. "You've been through a bit of an ordeal."

A large, cool hand gripped his left one. "Jesse, I want you to move your fingers one at a time for me, from thumb to pinky."

In the recesses of his mind, a tiny Jesse walked to a bank of levers and began pulling them.

"Good. Now, make a fist."

Jesse's hand felt as if it were a wet sponge, but he managed to curl the fingers under.

"Excellent, now on a scale of zero being no pain to four being unbearable, I want you to tell me about your headache by holding out your fingers."

Jesse held the fist for a moment then opened his hand flat, making sure to wiggle his thumb to get it counted too.

"Oooo, a real doozy. Okay, I'm going to give you something for the headache now. It is also going to make you sleep for several hours, but I'll be here when you wake up."

Jesse soon felt the pain in his head begin to fade, followed by a numb sensation that seemed to radiate to his face from around the base of his neck and his ears. Pins and needles and a slight ringing combined with a cool flow of air into his nose slowly faded with his awareness. As grogginess began to take him he started counting.

Beep.

~~~***~~~

In a conference room in the administrative wing of of the Womack Army Hospital the doctor sat down across the table from Lieutenant Harris. Flipping open a legal pad, he took a sip from the steaming coffee mug and plucked a pen out of the small cup that stood sentinel upon the table between them.

"Lieutenant Harris, I'm Doctor McCoy, CDC Atlanta."

Harris nearly choked on his own coffee. "McCoy?!? From Atlanta?"

With a long-suffering sigh, the doctor shook his head slowly. "My first name is Joshua, not Leonard. As if I don't already catch more than enough flack in the office back home."

"I can imagine so...Doctor." The Lieutenant ruthlessly quashed the urge to say 'Bones'.

McCoy's eyes narrowed at the perceptible pause in Harris' sentence.

"I've a bit of the same issue," Lieutenant Harris quickly followed. "First name's Nicholas, Nick for short." Raising a finger, he traced the scar that ran diagonally down his forehead, to just above his left eye, then picked up below the outside corner of the eye before fading out just below his left ear.

McCoy snorted. "Could be worse, you could'a got stuck with the eye-patch."

"Had to wear the damn thing six months."

"How?" Joshua vaguely gestured toward the injury.

"Saudi. Was attached as a liaison to a Marine unit that came under fire during Sadaam's abortive incursion beyond Kuwait. Piece of shrapnel skipped off the building opposite our cover position. Rang my bell but good. The field Doc told me I was lucky it didn't take my entire face off."

The Doctor laced his long fingers together and leaned on the table. "Let's come to an agreement now Lieutenant. From here on, pop culture will stay outside the realm of our conversation until we are off duty. We're both here with a job to do."

"Agreed," Nick nodded. "So, why is the CDC so interested in a cadet with heat stroke, and why won't the doctors here let me visit with him?"

"I'm afraid that I am not at liberty to answer your questions until after our interview, Lieutenant. It might color your responses, and right now, we need to have your raw feedback and not attempts to draw connections that may or may not exist." Reaching out, McCoy ejected and re-inserted the blank tape in the recorder beside the pen cup. Activating the recorder, the Doctor named himself and Harris then stated the time and the date.

"Lieutenant Harris, the purpose of this interview is to identify any signs or symptoms you might have noticed during the time leading up to the incident with Cadet Lee. This is not an inquest and this recording will be held in strictest patient/doctor medical confidentiality. Anything you can recall, no matter how inconsequential, could help us to treat the cadet's illness. Do you understand and agree to everything you have been told?"

The Lieutenant cleared his throat. "I do, Sir."

"Then let us start with this morning's events."

"Hmmm." Harris thought for a moment. "This morning Cadet Lee was at my door, concerned for his fellow cadets about the heat."

~~~***~~~

Transition Minus Two Hours

The echoes of morning reveille had not yet faded when there was a knock at Lieutenant Harris' barrack door. "Sir?"

Quickly slipping a t-shirt over his head and tucking it into the waistband of his shorts, the Lieutenant padded to the door and opened it. "How can I help you this morning, Cadet Quartermaster Lee?"

"Sir, we appreciate you joining us on our run each morning, but with today's heat... we, rather, I was wondering if it might not be better for you to follow us with one of the mules and a load of water today."

"A good suggestion, cadet," Harris replied. "I shall have to check with the motor-pool before breakfast to see if any of the mules are available."

"Thank you sir."

Something prickled at the back of the Lieutenant's brain. "Is there something else, Cadet."

"Ah, no Sir. Just a feeling, Sir. That something bad might happen if we don't have the extra water today."

~~~***~~~

"So the Cadet seemed to have some kind of premonition of today's events?"

"I'm not sure I would call it that, Sir. I chalked it up to his familiarity with the weather in this part of the country.

"And were you able to get a mule this morning?" McCoy asked.

"Ah, no," Nick answered. "Motor-pool said they'd all been signed out the day before. Instead I had the cadets each draw an extra canteen from supply and we returned to the barrack for them to fill them and drink before the morning PT."

"Is it not true that the base's water supply is currently restricted and considered non-potable?"

"That is correct. Each Cadet brought a supply of bottled water from home."

"Bottled water?" McCoy glanced at his notepad and underlined the words. "Do you recall if Mr. Lee had any particular brand?"

"Something that began with an 'E'. I'm not sure, though there are still twelve cases of it sitting next to his bunk. Should I bring them to you?"

"Perhaps. We have had a couple incidents tied to improper bottling practices recently. It might be worth a look." The Doctor glanced up at the Lieutenant. "So what about breakfast?"

"Breakfast was typical chow-hall style. If there were something there, we'd all be down with it right now. Eggs, bacon, pancakes. They're all teenage boys with the appetites to match."

McCoy made a note to check out the cadet's chow-hall.

"Okay, so PT?"

~~~***~~~

The scorching hot sun floated above the tall pine trees on waves of rising steam. With dawn barely broken, the temperature was already well north of 80, on a rocket-ship ride to the low hundreds and a humidity count to match. The heat boiled through the humid sky causing even the most rigid of objects to appear limp and wilted. Humvee's sagged over their wheels. The flags drooped from the tops of their poles without the slightest breath of wind to stir them. The pines even seemed dessicated, occasionally losing clumps of needles in suicide dives to the ground below. Fog from the nearby river and its tributaries was swiftly burned transparent, though the water certainly hadn't left the atmosphere.

Into this heat, the flight of ROTC Cadets exited their barrack for the drill-field. Dropping their belts with depended canteens, the boys immediately fell into their daily calisthenics beginning with warm-up stretches and proceeding through the daily gamut of activities familiar to soldiers and school PE classes the world over.

After a few final stretches, the Lieutenant got them ready for the morning run. Noticing that a couple of them were looking a bit pale, he first ordered everyone to stop and drink at least 1/2 of a canteen of water.

"Cadet Smith!"

"Sir!"

"You're fond of using your mouth, how about today, you lead the cadences!"

Snickers rumbled through the group. "Busted Jack!"

Forming up the flight, the Lieutenant lead them off the drill-field at a swift jog.

~~~***~~~

Jesse awoke the second time to the sensation of something thick and warm resting on the bridge of his nose. He tried to lift his hand to move it off his face, only to discover that his hands were strapped to the rails on either side of his bed.

Moments later, he heard the door click and then swing shut with a thump.

"Uhhahhhah."

"Shhh." A voice whispered back. "Don't try to talk just yet Jesse. I'm Doctor Langdon, if you remember our earlier conversation, please tell me how your headache is."

Thinking a moment, Jesse made a fist with his right hand then held out one finger.

"Ah, good, so it won't hurt if I stop whispering then." Jesse could hear the smile in the Doctor's voice.

"Uhhuuu."

"Ah ah aaah. No talking yet. Your body's been through quite a bit of stress today. Now I've got something here for you to drink, so first I'm going to raise your bed a bit."

The whir of an electric motor was soon followed by the sensation of the bedding sliding against Jesse's back. He felt the heavy blanket on his chest slide down a bit and then the bed came to a stop.

"Just sip a little of this and let it soak into your mouth before swallowing it. Don't worry, there's a lot here, and you will get to drink every bit of it." The doctor chuckled. "Matter of fact, I will insist that you do."

Jesse tugged at the straps holding his arms in place and frowned while he sipped from the straw.

"Sorry, but the restraints have to stay until we're sure your electrolyte balance has been restored. Right now, you're highly susceptible to seizures due to the chemical imbalance created by the dehydration that lead to your heat stroke."

"Wwhat?" Jesse's voice came out dry and husky.

"Shh. Don't talk yet." Doctor Langdon held the straw to Jesse's lips again. "You might do your vocal chords permanent damage."

Jesse sucked on the straw, savoring the cool flavor of the drink as it swirled around his mouth and trickled down his throat.

"In a little while, once I'm satisfied you won't do any damage to your voice, another doctor will be in to ask you some questions about what happened to you today. It might be a good idea if you thought about it now so as to be ready for him."

Jesse nodded, bumping his nose against the straw. Leaning his head off the pillow, he recaptured the straw and took another pull of the drink.

~~~***~~~

"Ah loves the taste of plastic in the morning!" Frank Murphy reached over and punched Jesse in the shoulder.

Holding his peace until the typhoon in his stomach settled, Jesse leaned heavily against the white, clapboard siding of the barrack. Heat seemed to be radiating away from his dry skin and his stomach had seen fit to declare war on his brain. In the shade of the building he took several deep breaths and concentrated hard on calming his stomach. Nausea and dizziness under control, he pulled the canteen from his hip and fumbled with the cap. After what seemed an eternity, he managed to remove the top and tilted the spout to his lips. After barely a mouthful the canteen was dry.

"Okay Cadets!" Lieutenant Harris announced. "We're late for the heavy weapons range! Form up and move out."

"Shit YEAH!" Jack hooted.

"JACK!" The entire flight turned on their fellow cadet.

Jesse smirked and shook his head. Standing up straight, he took a step away from the wall. As he did so, the rigid control over his stomach slipped and the nausea stormed back. The world tilted to the right and began to spin around him as the other boys shouted their imprecations at their linguistically challenged compatriot. In the ensuing ruckus, no one saw him fold over and collapse.

~~~***~~~

McCoy sat up in his chair and took a moment to stretch his right hand, rubbing the tender side of his ring finger where he'd been gripping the pen while taking notes.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, the Doctor reviewed his notes. "So you formed up the cadets for the march over to the weapons range and that's when you noticed Cadet Lee unconscious on the ground."

"That is correct," Harris answered.

"Then what?"

~~~***~~~

"Cadet Lee!" Harris charged around the boys standing at attention to the form curled in a fetal position on the ground. As he passed, the boys broke formation, turning to look at where their Lieutenant was running.

Harris reached the boy and rolled him onto his back. Snatching up his right wrist, he tried to detect a pulse, but his own heart was thudding too hard in his chest to be able to tell. Moving his hand to the cadet's throat he felt there for a pulse against the cool, clammy skin.

"MURPHY! Get on the horn to 911. Medical emergency!"

"Sir!" The cadet snapped to attention then dashed for the door to the barrack.

Under Harris' fingers Jesse's weak, thready pulse flickered and stopped. The color seemed to immediately drain from the boy's features save for a bluish tinge around the lips.

"Crap!!!" Harris pressed his ear against the boy's chest but was unable to hear any sound from the heart. "Smith! Get inside and tell Murphy it's a full blown heat stroke with heart attack! The rest of you get drinking water and soak a blanket in cold water in one of the showers and get it back out here. MOVE!"

One of the other cadets dropped in beside him, reaching out and checking the pulse points. "You have your orders cadet..."

"Wilson, Sir." The cadet answered. "You need me. None of the others are CPR certified. Hang on while I clear his airway."

Taking two fingers Harris traced the line of Lee's ribs to the base of the sternum. Laying the fingers above the V of the sternum, he set the heel of his palm and prepared to started chest compressions.

"Airway is clear sir."

"Understood, breathe 2 on 15."

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Breathe! Breathe!"

Harris paused and Cadet Wilson tilted Jesse's head back, pinched his nose shut and exhaled into his mouth. After checking again for a pulse, they started the cycle over.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six... Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Breathe!"

The boys drifted back out of the barrack carrying water and the wet blanket.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six... Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Breathe!"

Sirens sounded in the distance and two of the cadets ran to the access road to wait for the ambulance.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six... Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Breathe!"

"Come on Cadet Lee. Stay with us!" Harris growled.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six... Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Breathe!"

The siren built to a crescendo and cut off in the loud complaint of rubber tires on a loose gravel surface. The sound of men running with heavy gear rumbled behind him as he continued.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six... Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Breathe!"

Two men and three large bags crashed to the ground around them as they struggled to keep Jesse's body going. "Don't stop," the first one said. "What do we have."

"Heat stroke with full on cardiac arrhythmia." Wilson answered, while glancing at his watch. "Time of compressions now two minutes."

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six... Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Breathe!"

The base EMTs began laying out sensors on the cadet's chest and began hooking them up to monitoring equipment. "Okay, give me a pause for a baseline."

Wilson breathed once more for Jesse then both leaned back while the Lieutenant shook out his arms.

"Flatline. Charging paddles. Resume compressions."

"Switch!" Wilson said, leaning in and taking the compression position.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six... Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Breathe!"

Harris leaned in and breathed for the cadet. One of the EMTs leaned in with a pair of scissors and cut Jesse's shirt open down the middle.

"Ready!" The EMT by the machine shouted.

The other grabbed the paddles and moved into position, waiting for the fifteen-count. "Clear!"

Harris and Wilson leaned back as the EMT set the paddles in position, checked everyone was clear and hit the plunger. Jesse's body levitated on the back of his head and his heels then dropped. The heart monitor blipped a couple times then flattened again.

"Resume." Wilson growled, leaning back into the compressions.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six... Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Breathe!"

"Charging to setting two," the EMT stated.

"Ready!"

"Clear!"

"All right! We've got a pulse. Kid, you know how to use a breather bag?" Wilson took the bag, verified the airway was still clear, fitted the mouthpiece between Jesse's lips and then began squeezing and releasing it in a slow, rhythmic fashion. The two EMT's packed up their gear and fetched the stretcher from the back of their ambulance.

Once Jesse was loaded on the stretcher, the EMTs took a moment to slip cool-packs under his arms and on either side of his head. Then, with the help of the cadets, they got the stretcher loaded and roared off to the base hospital.

"Twenty calls since my TEMP certification this spring, fifteen wrecks, five in-house falls. Lots of bruises, blood and broken bones. Nothing really life-threatening... and my first real save, had to be a buddy." Wilson sagged against the Lieutenant.

The Lieutenant stiffened, then lay an arm around Cadet Wilson's shoulders and said the only thing he could.

"Good work son."

~~~***~~~

Harris felt more drained after his interview with the CDC Doctor than he had after the frantic efforts that morning to keep one of his cadets alive. Now he was following as McCoy maneuvered through the corridors of the hospital as if he had worked there for years. Pausing, he opened a door to a long narrow room with a window lining one wall. Leaning down, he pressed a button on a metal speaker box under the glass.

"This is an observation room. We can stand here, watch and hear without disturbing the patient within."

In the darkened room beyond, Nick could just make out the shape of a body laying in the hospital bed. A moment later, the hospital room's door cracked open and another doctor stepped into the room. Walking to the bed in the dark, the doctor removed what appeared to be a sleep-mask from the head of the person in the bed.

"Jesse, it's Doctor Langdon. Are you awake?" The speaker under the window crackled.

McCoy leaned closer to the Lieutenant. "The patient has been sedated. What we're about to reveal to him is going to be something of a shock. You see, we've never, ever had a case like this before. It's like something out of 40's pulp sci-fi."

"Yes doctor." A tired voice replied through the speaker.

"Jesse, you've been through a serious trauma." Langdon's quiet voice seemed calculated to soothe the listener. "Something more than the heat stroke happened to you this morning and we need to understand why.

"Your body has undergone some significant changes. In a moment, I'm going to turn the lights on so you can see."

"What kind of changes?" Jesse's voice seemed higher and worried in spite of the sedative.

"I think it would be easier to show you than to try to describe it. But I promise you that we are all going to do our best to help you get back to the way you were."

A moment later, the room lights were turned on. Harris stood there speechless, staring at the bed. Instead of a wiry teen male with brown eyes, dark brown hair and a deep tan, there was a very attractive teen girl with reddish blond hair, green eyes and creme colored skin. Her wrists were secured to the rails on either side of the bed and one arm had an IV line strung from it.

Jess blinked her eyes at the light then looked down to see the swell of her breasts rising beneath the light blanket. Harris watched her knees move together sharply under the blanket and then he realized exactly what she was checking for.

"Holy..."

"...crap!"

Chapter Three
Outside Charlotte, North Carolina

In the stifling afternoon heat, those of the Lee's neighbors who were home were surprised out of the air-conditioned comfort of their houses by the arrival of a convoy of white vans. Vans accompanied by a hastily activated National Guard unit with orders to perform crowd control and stay out of the way. As the large brakes complained loudly of stopping the heavy vehicles, two men in white isolation suits leaped from the back of the second vehicle and hustled, Michelin-Man style, to the front door. The soldiers deployed in a cordon around the edges of the Lee's property while more men in white began roping off a perimeter within which no one not wearing the baggy white suits was to be allowed.

Moments after the first two knocked on the door, a frightened young voice reached out by telephone. “Mom?”

The quavery sound of Anita's voice immediately set off alarm bells for Melissa Lee. “What's the matter honey?”

“Men in white spacesuits just knocked on the door and told me to stay inside. Said they're from the ceedeecee. Mom, what's the ceedeecee? I can see more of them outside in big white vans. And soldiers. They said I should call you and Dad and tell you to come straight home.”

Melissa's staff watched through the window of her office as the color drained completely from their boss' face. They watched, worried yet unaware, as she completed the incoming call then immediately dialed out, held a brief, animated conversation then hung up. The assistant manager barely comprehended what she was saying as she flew by on her way out the door. All he understood for sure was that something was wrong at home and she might not be in for the rest of the week.

As the sound of their boss squealing tires out of the parking lot faded, the heavy whop of helicopter blades drew their attention upward, where a pair of Blackhawks in army olive drab rocketed across their vision on a line that would soon intersect with the empty high-school parking lot.

~~~***~~~

Joshua held up an arm to shield his eyes against the blast of air and dust that swept through the cabin as the helicopter's crew chief threw open the UH-60's right-side door. With the improved view, the CDC Doctor watched the ground approach rapidly and he involuntarily stiffened, closing his eyes in anticipation of the inevitable impact.

He felt his weight shoot upward, followed by an amazingly gentle thump. Cracking open one eye, he saw Lieutenant Harris already jumping down from the door and moving in a straight line outward from the helicopter, only ducking slightly until he was clear of the rotors, which were still spinning at high speed. McCoy fumbled with the seat belts until the crew-chief took mercy on him and undid the latch with a shake of his head. In a deep crouch, he ran through the maelstrom kicked up by the buzzing machine to the waiting sheriff’s patrol car.

“Hey Bones, you can stand up now,” Harris chuckled. “Sheriff Whitaker, Doctor Joshua McCoy, CDC Atlanta.”

“Listen Fury," the doctor growled. "There are two things I detest in this world. Helicopters only count as one of them.”

Nick shook his head then turned to the Sheriff. “Sorry about that, he's a bit grouchy about his name...”

“...and the thought of what would happen if a gust of wind just happened to tilt one of those blades down to neck level as I was running beneath them,” McCoy spat. Reaching out, he offered his hand to the Sheriff. “A pleasure to meet you Sheriff, especially as your transportation isn't a mobile guillotine.”

A cloud of dust announced the departure of the first helicopter and the arrival of the second, from which alighted McCoy's medical support team. The group moved swiftly to load their gear into a white panel van. Once the team was loaded, McCoy and Harris climbed in the car with the sheriff and the two vehicles moved swiftly away from the high-school in the direction of the Lee residence.

~~~***~~~

John Lee sat numbly in the driver's seat of his pick-up. He'd passed several military road-blocks leading into his neighborhood, but at each, the MP's had merely asked to see his driver's license, and after almost cursory glances at it, had handed it back and waved him through. Now, sitting at the end of his own driveway, undergoing one final check, his mind was attempting to meld the image before him into something coherent.

But for the life of him, all he could come up with was a weird mash-up of the movies 'E.T.' and 'Red Dawn'. His house was in the process of being wrapped in a clear plastic bubble while numerous white tents were being erected or were already set up around it. Dispersed around the edges of his property were soldiers in forest BDU's, looking fully ready to repel an invasion.

"Welcome home sir..."

John shook his head abruptly at the interruption to his thoughts. "Sorry?"

The soldier, looking barely older than his own son, shook his head. "I said welcome home sir. The doctor from the CDC has asked that you meet him in that tent." Turning, the soldier waved toward one of the pavilions that had been set up in the front yard. The one that was distinguished by a hamster-tube leading from it to the now plastic covered front porch.

Parking his truck, John zombie-walked to the tent, wondering exactly what the hell was going on.

~~~***~~~

Nick noted the puzzled and haunted expression on the father's face as the worried man stepped through the tent flap. It was a complimentary match for the look on his wife's face. The daughter, who was huddled against her mother's side merely looked scared. John moved straight to the chairs where his family was sitting, sliding into the seat beside his daughter and embracing the women. Harris could see the old Jesse in all three of them. On the other hand, he had expected that one of the women would at least have borne some resemblance to the girl Jesse had become. An expectation that now lay in ashes, along with about half the theories that Joshua had spouted off in the hours since the cadet's condition had been revealed to the Lieutenant.

McCoy scooped up a legal-sized clipboard off one of the tables and nodded toward the three people sitting at the far end of the tent. Nick fell in on his right as the CDC doctor lead the way to the seated family, stopping on the opposite side of a folding table that had been set up on that end of the tent.

"Mister and Missus Lee?" He gestured for them to draw their chairs closer to the table. "My name is Joshua McCoy. I'm a doctor with the CDC's Atlanta office." He swept his hand in a gesture that encompassed Nick. "And this is Lieutenant Nicholas Harris of the 82nd Airborne. I'd like to apologize for the spectacle that has descended upon your home. May I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Soda?"

While both the adults declined, the daughter worked up her nerve. "Can I get a diet Pepsi?"

McCoy's over the top inhalation of breath, wide rolled eyes and hands dramatically clutched to his heart, was followed by a quiet exclamation. "Ahhhh. You did hear me say I was from Atlanta, right?"

The girl nodded a bit uncertainly.

"My wife works for Coca-Cola." Joshua winked. "But if you don't tell her, I won't."

At the wave of his hand, one of his team brought over a cup of ice and a can of diet Pepsi for the girl. The girl's smile and giggle went far towards relaxing the tension that had filled the tent since the mother's arrival twenty minutes earlier. Joshua and Nick pulled up chairs on their side of the table and sat down.

The father leaned onto the table. "So what exactly are your people doing on my property Doctor McCoy?"

Joshua's shoulders tensed and hunched as the doctor looked down at the clipboard on the table.

After his years of military service, both as a non-com and now as an officer, Nick knew that what was about to be laid on the table was not going to be easy for any of the parties present. He cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully, in spite of knowing that the parents were only going to hear what they wanted to hear of what he was about to say.

"As Joshua said, I'm Lieutenant Harris. I am the training officer for the JROTC cadet flight your son is assigned to."

As Nick feared, in spite of the stress he had put on the 'is', both parents went immediately pale. "Jesse is alive and in good health... Or so the doctors assure me." He quickly followed up. "However we did have an incident this morning and the results of that incident are at the core of why we are here now."

Both parents swallowed hard, but remained silent in their seats, Anita clutched tightly between them.

McCoy looked up from his clipboard. "At oh eight hundred this morning your son suffered from what at first appeared to be a case of heat stroke..."

~~~***~~~

Jesse lay in the hospital bed contemplating how his life had changed. Somehow, even though it did not yet seem to be real, he knew that what had happened to him was permanent. He thought about his parents. How would they handle his change? A warm buzz clicked in the back of his head and the former boy's brain began running through permutations. The process was like no sensation he'd ever felt before.

Staring at the acoustical tiles on the ceiling, he watched each of the scenes play out like a movie. In spite of the speed of the review, all of the information seemed to slot into his memory. With very little effort, his mind could compare any element, replacing them at a whim and tracing out the new lines of probability. A worried frown graced his newly feminine features, very few of the scenarios appeared to have positive conclusions. It seemed like in almost every outcome his father just couldn't accept the changes. Looking at the decision chains, he could see where small differences early lead to big effects later. Jesse sincerely hoped that the shadowy visions he was having were a case of his imagination running away with him, like a waking nightmare.

Earlier, Doctor Langdon had determined that the risk of seizures was low enough that the restraints could be removed. Now, to distract himself from the dark nature of his thoughts in the solitude of the hospital room, Jesse let his hands wander, exploring the strange shape of his new body. The uncomfortable weight on his chest that he had initially taken for a heavy blanket soon drew his attention. With guilty temerity, his hands came to rest on the swelling breasts that now adorned his chest.

For years, he'd had a crush on Mary Spellman, one of the school cheerleaders. As a teenage guy, he'd dreamed about getting to gently touch those forbidden regions of her female body. The sensuous shiver that raced down his spine at the light touch of his hands on his own chest suddenly brought all the changes home and the reality clicked into place. He was now a she. A SHE who was now likely to be a target of those same feelings he held for Mary.

Nausea returned, he did not want this. He had been happy as a boy. He enjoyed hunting with his father and thoughts of a military career. Women weren't allowed in combat, which meant that all the fun stuff he had looked forward to would probably be excluded from any career she might be allowed. Oh God, he was a she now. Would they even allow him/her to join? Or would they assume that he chose this and therefore must be gay? Tears began to leak from the newborn female's eyes. The boy who was Jesse cried for his lost manhood, while the girl he had become succumbed to her fear of this strange new situation in which she found herself.

The tears soon turned to huge racking sobs. Sobs so powerful that it was difficult for her to get her breath. In her state, she failed to hear the duty nurse open the door and quickly leave. In fact, she barely registered the presence of Doctor Langdon as he leaned over to inject a sedative into her I.V. line.

As the sobs subsided, the nurse sat beside her, holding the new girl's hand, gently stroking it and humming a quiet, peaceful tune. Sleep gently washed up over Jesse's consciousness, her last sensation being the nurse stroking her hand as she gently sponged the tears from her cheeks.

~~~***~~~

"Quite frankly, with the level of changes that Jesse underwent, we are amazed that she is even alive. That our tests indicate that she is a normal, fully developed sixteen year old female is, in fact miraculous." McCoy leaned back from the table and took a sip from his omnipresent coffee mug, letting the parents absorb what he had just told them.

The mother looked pale while the the father's face had colored a deep red. It was the young daughter who found her voice first. "So Jesse is now my big sister? That is sooo COOL!"

Nick tensed as rage erupted from the chair beside Anita. "It is NOT cool! You're the high-powered doctor here. Undo this!"

"Mister Lee, I would like nothing better than to do exactly that. Your son does not deserve to have his life turned completely inside out, but because of what occurred, that is exactly what is going to happen until we understand this event. This wasn't some surgical procedure that went wrong or something we can cure with a pill." The doctor took a deep breath.

"Your son's changes took place on a genetic level. Even his blood type has changed from O negative to AB positive. That alone should have killed him. Whatever it is that happened to him did not just change his physical gender, it re-sculpted his bone structure. Jesse is not a female caricature draped over a male frame, he is a very attractive female who looks as if she has been one all her life."

"We're educated people Doctor McCoy," Melissa Lee said calmly. "What you have described is impossible. People do not spontaneously swap genders."

"You are correct Missus Lee," McCoy answered. "In all of recorded medical history there are not even any apocryphal accounts that remotely resemble what happened to Jesse. We cannot begin to explain or understand it. That is why we are here. Between this house and the week he spent at Fort Bragg, there must be some environmental factor that triggered the incident."

Nick flipped a page over on the clipboard in front of him. "Normally a medical issue would not draw the attention of high levels of government, but the abnormal nature of this event has. If word of this event were to spread, the government believes that it would cause a public panic. National Command Authority has issued the following orders relating to Jesse Lee's change pending the discovery of its causes and/or his restoration to pre-change status. Under federal imminent domain, and in the interest of public health, the government is purchasing your house and all of its contents."

The Lee's started to protest, but Nick raised his hand. "Please let me finish and then I can answer your questions."

Their protests subsided.

"This is not a government land grab like seems to make the news so much lately. Per the provisos of the order, you will be paid twice fair market value for your property. Additionally, as personal items are cleared of any connection to Jesse's illness, they shall be returned to your family. Your family will be relocated, initially to Fort Bragg base family housing until proper further arrangements can be made. On base jobs commensurate with your current positions and salaries will be arranged. What happened to your son occurred on an active military reservation. The army takes care of its own, even the JROTC cadets."

McCoy leaned forward sliding an official document across the table, the large blue seal at the top announcing its importance ahead of his voice. "By order of the President of the United States, no mention of your son's condition may be made to anyone outside of the list appended to the back of this document. Your signatures are required."

~~~***~~~

Wearing isolation suits, Nick and Joshua stood in the garage of the Lee's former home. It had taken a couple hours to explain the details of the government's purchase agreement and to convince the family to sign the paperwork for that and the non-disclosure agreement. With the Lee's packed into a CDC Suburban and sent off down US 74 on the three hour drive to Fort Bragg, the two of them were performing a walk-through of the property before catching their helicopter back to the base.

"Nicely organized," McCoy's muffled voice said.

Harris looked up from the rack of dry-goods he was studying. "Jesse said that he and his dad set up the racks the weekend before he reported to Bragg."

"How many cases of water did you say he brought to camp?"

"Twenty."

McCoy gestured to the large stack of bottled water cases on the front wall of the garage. "Looks like he barely made a dent in their stock."

"Yeah, Jesse said the family wasn't prepared when Hugo came through a few years ago. Every since, they've kept a full month stash of emergency supplies on hand."

"Hmm... Hope Springs' Eternal Natural Spring Water," Joshua read. "There's a young lady at the office who's addicted to this particular brand."

Second Interlude
Center for Disease Control — Atlanta, Georgia

Some men, when placed into high stress positions, gain weight. Unhealthy eating, sedentary desk-work and the instinctual human reaction to store energy when under stress combine to cause these individual's waistlines to expand to fill the available space between the arms of their comfortable leather office chairs.

Dr. Hubert Arrington was not such a man.

For him stress had the opposite reaction. It had accelerated his metabolism causing him to burn off somewhere north of a hundred pounds since he had taken the Director's position at the CDC. His once stocky and impressive six foot two inch physique had devolved into a hunched-over, cadaverous caricature of the man he had been just five years previously.

He could feel each tick of the clock. Retirement was coming soon. His only question was whether it would be in that comfortable Florida golf community his wife liked so much, or if it was going to be in a eighteen inch by thirty inch by eighty-four inch box.

The ding of the elevator pulled his attention away from thoughts of retirement. Squaring his shoulders, he marched smartly into the clerical warren of his organization.

“Good morning Doctor,” Kari Spencer smiled at him past the bottle of Eternal water she was about to sip from. “I'll be right in with today's reports.”

Hubert noted the size of her smile. “You seem in a good mood today, how was this morning's checkup?”

“Great!” The attractive brunette blushed. “Five weeks!”

The doctor chuckled. “Congratulations! Have you told the Duke fan yet?” As a graduate of the University of North Carolina medical school, the doctor had long teased Kari about her husband's fixation.

Kari's smile fell a bit as she gathered up the files and water bottle then followed him into his office. “I called Mike's job, but he'll be in meetings all day, something about problems the company is having in the Houston office. I guess I'll surprise him at dinner.”

“Some surprise! I remember when Lexi told me about our first.” He picked up one of the files and noted the title. Mortality Statistics: Quarter One 1994. “We were on our way to a romantic dinner and I almost totaled our GTO.”

Kari smiled again. “Not much in today's pile, Doctor. We have the wrap-up reports on the west-coast e-coli outbreak. Trends wants you to pay close attention to a blip they've marked in the mortality stats folder, and McCoy has faxed a preliminary report, sealed and eyes only for you on that 'special' the Army called for help with.”

“Thank you Mrs. Spencer. Why don't you take the afternoon off so you can prepare your husband's surprise.”

“Really!” Kari suppressed the urge to squeal. “Thank you sir!”

Her short hair bobbed happily as the administrative professional glided to the door.

“Oh, Mrs. Spencer, have you thought of any names?”

Stopping at the door, she put on a minx-like grin. “If its a boy, he'll be Cameron.” With a wink she ducked out the door, latching it against the exaggerated groan that escaped from the Carolina fan behind the desk.

Chuckling to himself, Hubert flipped open the mortality statistics report to the flagged section. After a moment the chuckles died as he stared at the door, then looked again at the title of the section.

Disturbing Increase in Postpartum Mortality — A National Trend:

Chapter Four

Jesse struggled to wake up.

Normally, he would have been the first one bouncing out of bed, but thoughts of what now faced him in the mirror made him want to stay asleep, praying that what his mind and body were telling him were part of some weird nightmare. Unfortunately, that option was ripped away from the new Jesse by a stabbing pain in her stomach. In a sharp motion, she curled around her belly, the sudden movement eliciting an anguished moan. Moments later, the fluorescent lights snapped on as the duty nurse swept through the door.

“Easy honey,” the nurse said as she lay a hand on Jesse's shoulder. “Cramps?”

The teenager could only moan and nod as another wave of pain radiated outward from her stomach. Her breathing becoming short and her vision beginning to blur.

“Shhh. Try to lay back down slowly. Stretch the muscles gently.” As the girl slowly relaxed, the nurse took a moment to lean out the door and wave to the duty desk for Doctor Langdon to be paged.

Returning to her patient, the nurse began gently rubbing her stomach, feeling the knots in the muscles below her ribcage and gently encouraging them to release. The doctor arrived moments later as the girl was finally able to melt back into the thin mattress of the hospital bed. A peaceful respite that was soon broken by a moment of total mortification as her stomach loudly grumbled and groaned.

Skin bright red and eyes wide, her focus shifted from the equally wide eyes of nurse to the doctor and back again. After five eternal seconds the nurse snorted, then snickered. The unexpected mirth soon infected Jesse who began to giggle, then laugh out loud. Unfortunately, the spasms of laughter soon began to affect the still twitchy muscles of her stomach and the hunger cramps returned with a vengeance.

As the nurse once more eased the teen's knotted muscles Doctor Langdon turned to the telephone and placed a quick call to the hospital cafeteria. Returning to her bedside, he held her left hand.

“Hindsight's 20/20 Jesse,” the doctor apologized. “I should have realized that the change your body has undergone would require tremendous reserves of energy. Energy that must be replaced. I have the cafeteria bringing up a tray of sandwiches. Just try to lie still until they get here.”

Jesse merely nodded as her stomach complained loudly at the delay.

Lieutenant Harris pulled the gray Suburban to a stop in in the driveway of the V.I.P. Guest quarters. Pocketing the keys he took a moment to adjust his cover in the mirror then check his watch before stepping out on to the pavement. With near-perfect timing, the black SUV with the Lee's on-board moved through the blue of the mercury vapor streetlights and pulled in behind Harris' vehicle.

Stepping to the door behind the driver, he depressed the latch, took a half-step back and came to attention. “Mrs. Lee, welcome to Fort Bragg. It is well after visiting hours, but as soon as we have you settled into temporary quarters, I'm to escort the three of you to Womack to visit with y... with Jesse.”

Covering his faux-pax with with a smile, he held out an arm to assist the travel-weary mother from the truck.

“Harris! How.” The three hour ride had not helped John's anger with the situation any.

“Helicopter. Been back on the ground barely long enough to change uniforms and fetch your transportation from the motor-pool.”

“Transportation?”

Harris casually waved toward the gray wagon. “As the doctor explained. Until we know what caused Jesse's illness, everything is suspect. We are providing you with this vehicle until yours are either cleared or replaced.”

He ascended the steps to the small porch that marked the entrance to the building. “We've assigned you temporarily to V.I.P. Guest quarters. As you can see, they are built on a duplex plan. Currently the other half is not occupied so you should have no troubles with noisy neighbors while you adjust to the change.”

Mildly ravenous, Jess polished off the golden delicious apple core in his right hand and tore into the fourth hoagie.

“Hello, cafeteria? … This is Doctor Landon up on five. Yes, could you have another half-dozen sandwiches and a bowl of fruit sent up to room 515? Thanks.”

Jess mumbled her thanks around the mouthful of bread, cheese and meat she was chewing.

“You're welcome.” The doctor responded to the semi-articulate grunt. “I'd hate for you to go cannibal on your family. They'll be here in an hour.”

The nurse shot a look over at the grinning doctor. “Hey, what about me! We're state-side. The nursing staff doesn't get hazard pay!”

Completely missing the nurse's repartee, Jess forced a swallow. “Family?!? Here!?”

Langdon nodded.

“A..and they know... about... about...” Unable to articulate words for what had happened, the girl in the bed waved her hands from her chest to her hips and back. “This.”

The hum from earlier re-lit in the back of her head as the varied permutations she'd run sprang back into flux. Rapidly her brain categorized the potentials and eliminated all the ones where her parents didn't know about her change before they entered the room. Having done so she rifled through the possible outcomes, fearing what she knew wasn't there. By not being able to control how her father found out about her condition, the probabilities of her father accepting her as she now was had become zero.

She came out of her catatonic state to the blinding flash of the doctor's pen-light in her eyes. Blinking furiously, the girl shook her head, trying to rid her vision of the drifting blue-green smear. Visions of Jesse's lost relationship with her father swam behind the glow.

Suddenly, her body stiffened. She saw her father, in hunting gear carrying a rifle. In her vision, he was screaming incoherently at her, anger coloring his face.

She could feel her own anger welling inside of her. The vision snapped and jumped and they were at a strange house, she was throwing clothes in a bag while her father screamed in another room. She kissed the top of her sister's head and turned toward the door. Rage and sadness suffused her.

“Jesse Lee, if you take one step out that door, you can NEVER come back!”

She paused for the briefest of moments, then walked through the open door.

“Jesse?” There was a sharp snap of fingers by her left ear. “Hello Jesse, are you with us?”

Doctor Langdon's voice cut through her mental fog and she nodded slowly.

“You weren't here for a bit there. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I...I'm not sure?” She took a deep breath. “I think...”

The click of the door opening and Lieutenant Harris' voice interrupted her train of thought. “And 515, here we are.”
Her father stepped through the door first, carrying the tray of sandwiches they'd liberated from the orderly who had been about to enter. “Hiya Sport. How ya... feel..ing.” Jesse's father's eyes landed on the distinct curves that lay, barely hidden, beneath the sheet.

“Oh hell.”

“Cellarage under the stage. Bardo! I win!!!” Anita crowed her way into the room.

“Not now Nit,” the girl on the bed growled.

“Hey, only Jesse calls me Nit,” the younger girl pouted, then blinked. “Jesse?”

John stood frozen, the tray of sandwiches in front of him like some weird restaurant display. He knew what McCoy and Harris had told him happened, but seeing his son... A white-hot haze descended over his brain and he remembered nothing else until he found himself sitting on a bench across the parking lot from the hospital's main entrance.

Melissa was about to scold Anita for being insensitive to what Jesse was going through when her new daughter's growl was echoed by the man standing beside her. Out of reflex, she caught the tray of sandwiches as it was shoved towards her. Rage swept from the room and she could hear the cursing in the hallway begin just as the door swung shut.

She was torn, but only briefly, by the need to chase after her husband of 18 years, knowing that she was best suited to soothe the roaring beast within him. But then she turned and looked at the young woman laying on the bed. The girl had rapidly grown as pale as the sheet by which she was covered. She watched as the girl's lower lip began to quiver and her eyes began to glisten.

With a heart-wrenching sob one word escaped the girl's mouth. “Dad.”

The pain and anguish enunciated in those three little letters erased all thought of chasing down the thing that had stormed out of the room. Her husband could take care of himself, for now, Melissa's child, her first-born, her Jesse needed her far more.

Somehow Anita ended up holding the tray of sandwiches as a sob broke from Melissa's throat and she wrapped herself around the girl in the bed.

“Shh Jess. Mommy's here.”

The dark air was almost still, with only the occasional breeze to move the humid blanket that lay over the base. To the southeast towering clouds blotted out the stars, randomly backlit by the silent flash of lightning. The thunder swallowed by the intervening distance of moisture-laden air. Wan light washed out to the bench that sat beneath a tree bordering the parking lot, dimly illuminating the man slouched on the wooden slats. A pair of security guards stood in the pool of light gathered in front of the hospital, keeping a wary eye on the man.

The door opened and another man, this one wearing the white smock of a doctor, stepped through. Pausing briefly, he scanned the parking lot then walked casually across, taking a seat at the opposite end of the bench. He fumbled briefly at a pocket inside the white lab-coat, pulling out a pack of Marlboro's. Digging in his pant's pocket, the doctor slipped a silver lighter out. Tamping a cigarette free of the pack he grabbed it between his teeth, pulling it out. The metallic click of the cap opening was followed by the snick of the wheel being spun. The sweet smell of burning lighter fluid followed by lit tobacco drifted to the opposite end of the bench.

“Aren't you doctor's always on the public's back to drop that habit?” John grumbled.

McCoy snorted. “I have bigger fish to fry.” He held the cigarette up. “This. This keeps me sane.”

“Bigger fish...” John trailed off.

“Like what happened to Jesse.” Joshua waved toward a lit window on the hospital's fifth floor. “I give you a seven out of ten.”

“Huh?” The older man looked over at the young doctor. “What?”

“Seven out of ten. If what happened to Jesse happened to my son, I wouldn't have just yelled, screamed and cursed my way out of the building.” McCoy pulled out the Marlboro pack. “Cigarette?”

Reaching out, John plucked one from the pack and stuck it in his mouth. “I shouldn't be doing this,” he mumbled as McCoy flicked the lighter and lit it for him. After a slow drag on it he began coughing.

“Easy John.”

“Been a while. I quit cold turkey when Jesse brought home his fifth grade health book. You know, the one with the picture of the black 'smoker's lung' in it. Haven't even looked at a cigarette since, until tonight.”

McCoy took a long pull on the cigarette then let it out slowly as he watched the lightning play across the distant clouds, the occasional low grumble beginning to reach his ears. “Thing is, this stress, figuring out the mystery of what happened to your son. This is what I live for. But I'll tell you something really, really important.”

John leaned back on the bench while McCoy paused to finish off the cigarette and stamp it out on the concrete.

“As much as I hated being the one to tell you what happened this afternoon, there is one thing about that meeting that made the whole thing far more bearable. Your son is still alive, Mr. Lee. He may be a drop dead gorgeous girl now, but dammit Jesse is alive. Ninety percent of the families I interview don't have that.”

McCoy got up and walked across the parking lot and through the hospital doors without looking back. Behind him John dropped the cigarette on the sidewalk and curled over his knees, tears flowing down his cheeks as the gathering storm grew closer.

Third Interlude:
Penthouse- Carson Tower- New York City

Jason Carson stood on the balcony overlooking Central Park. Bill Gates could have Seattle with is grunge rock and all that rain. New York was the center of power in the world for up and coming companies and no company was as up and coming as Carson Software. Where else could you rub shoulders with more of the real movers and shakers in industry. Only five years after leaving Seattle to strike out on his own and Carson Software was already the first choice for hundreds of different industrial and business applications.

Carson Software was an ostentatious success and its Chairman/CEO was a flamboyant figure making the world of computer programming hip and cool. He stepped back from the rail, draining the last sip of scotch from his glass. Setting the glass on the mahogany bar, he closed the balcony door.

The quiet ding of the elevator arriving drew him to the entrance foyer. With a glance at his watch he reached for the door.

“Right on time My Love,” he greeted his wife as she stepped through the open door. Her chauffeur and her bodyguard each lugging suitcases and shopping packages behind her.

“So Emilie, how was the shoot?”

Emilie Dupreche ne Carson smiled at her husband of just over a year. Her soft, Parisian accent sending a shiver down his spine. “Tiring.” Reaching in the cooler under the bar she pulled out a cold bottle of water.

Strolling over to her, he lifted her flowing locks free of her right ear and nibbled at it. “Ah, perhaps ze Hope Springz zhpokesmodel...” he kissed her neck... “is too tired for mi amore?”

Turning in his arms, she leaned in to press her lips against his. “Your faux accent is atrocious, Mon cher...” Her voice faded to a quiet whipser. “Je veux un petit garçon.”

“Yes, my love.” He mumbled as she pulled him into the bedroom.