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want me to do about it?” Dale says.
    “ Reese is a liability, and doesn't see the big picture. He sent a unit into a known hot zone, and I discovered something else. This makes our current project look like a waste of time. I am talking creating a more devastating weapon than even our nano-chemical technology.” Olaf says.
    “ You've got my attention...” Dale says.
    “ There is even a chance that we could merge the two projects. We can take the modified organisms from the Chimera project, turn them into a double threat and really spice things up on the battlefield. Just imagine a small harmless puppy, placed at the edge of a field, found by an enemy combatant; its coat of fur secreting Ricin toxin and its saliva packing a pathogen, more devastating than the bubonic plague.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Bad Hangover
    The light of the midday sun damn near blinds me as I step outside the vent shaft, free at last from my earthen prison. My vision is blurry, my head is pounding, and I struggle to stand up straight.  I literally feel like I stepped out into the desert after a three day bender with the fine girls of the bunny ranch.
    I look down at my tattered clothes, and realize that I make a Chicago bum look well-dressed. We do share something in common, both of us are drenched in urine, and of course, rat shit. My surroundings don't fare much better. Several bodies lay strewn about the ground, and spent brass casings litter the ground.
    What the hell happened here? The once familiar surroundings of the base, completely leveled, an alien landscape of multicolored craters. Fallen trees, scorched earth, and misplaced boulders have replaced the tranquil mountain side. “Trixie...” I mutter, as I begin my trek towards known civilization.
    I need to find food, water, and some form of shelter. There's nothing like a sweltering summer day to remind you, just how much you love central air. There is only one person who can help me right now, the good father Randy Mcfeely. Luckily, his house is only a few miles from here.
    It feels like an eternity has passed when I finally reach his door step, I prop myself up against the siding, and press the buzzer. The sound of dogs barking only makes my head pound even worse. It amazes me the man can hear anything at all. How can one person have so many damn dogs?
    The door slowly opens, and I fall to the ground, my strength has sold me out to the cheapest bidder. The last thing I can remember seeing, were the father's bare feet rushing towards me. Thankfully, death submitted a high bid, and unconsciousness threw out a low ball offer.
    Tonight's top story is again focusing on the man hunt for terrorist Trixie Evans, who is believed to have been the person responsible for the bombing at the former Homestake mine. The aftershocks of the event have left many local residents to question how this could have happened in their hometown. The governor has issued a statement, urging residents to remain on alert for any suspicious activity, and to report anything unusual to local authorities. Sheriff Dan Myles, has stated that he does not believe Trixie is still in the area, but advises residents to be on the look out.
    “That is a crock of crap.” I say, lifting my head up, blinking my aching eyes.
    “ You're awake! How are you feeling my son?” Mcfeely says.
    “ Like death warmed over, but that news story is steamy pile of bullshit.”
    “ The terrorist attack?” Mcfeely asks.
    “ There was no terrorist. It was the military, trying to cover their own asses, and I can prove it.” I say.
    “ I think you are suffering from a concussion son.” Mcfeely says.
    “ I need water father...”
    “ Absolutely, try not to move, and for the love of our heavenly father, please lay back down.” Mcfeely says. I can hear his footsteps walking away from me, each step growing more distant. I force myself back onto the pillow, and take a half-hearted look around the room. I am laying on a couch, in what I assume is