Marissa’s mind wandered. What she really wanted to see was where they stored the Ebola. She eyed the bolted insulated door. If she had to guess, she’d guess someplace in there. As soon as Tad paused, she asked if he would show her where they kept it.
He hesitated for a moment. “Over there,” he said, pointing toward the insulated door.
“Can I see?” asked Marissa.
Tad shrugged. Then he motioned for her to follow him. He waddled over to the side of the room and pointed out an appliance next to one of the tissue-culture incubators. He wasn’t pointing at the insulated door.
“In there?” questioned Marissa with surprise and disappointment. She’d expected a more appropriate container, one that would be safely locked away behind a bolted door.
“It looks just like my parents’ freezer.”
“It is,” said Tad. “We just modified it to take liquid-nitrogen coolant.” He pointed to the intake and exhaust hoses. “We keep the temperature at minus seventy degrees centigrade.”
Around the freezer and through the handle was a link chain secured by a combination lock. Tad lifted the lock and twirled the dial. “Whoever set this had a sense of humor. The magic sequence is
6-6-6.”
“It doesn’t seem very secure,” said Marissa.
Tad shrugged. “Who’s going to go in here, the cleaning lady?”
“I’m serious,” said Marissa.
“No one can get in the lab without an access card,” said Tad, opening the lock and pulling off the chain.
Big deal, thought Marissa.
Tad lifted the top of the freezer, and Marissa peered within, half expecting something to jump out at her. What she saw through a frozen mist were thousands upon thousands of tiny plastic-capped vials in metal trays.
With his plastic-covered hand, Tad wiped the frost off the inside of the freezer’s lid, revealing a chart locating the various viruses. He found the tray number for Ebola, then run-imaged in the freezer like a shopper looking for frozen fish.
“Here’s your Ebola,” he said, selecting a vial and pretending to toss it at Marissa.
In a panic, she threw her hands out to catch the vial. She heard Tad’s laughter, which sounded hollow and distant coming from within his suit. Marissa felt a stab of irritation. This was hardly the place for such antics.
Holding the vial at arm’s length, Tad told Marissa to take it, but she shook her head no. An irrational fear gripped her.
“Doesn’t look like much,” he said, pointing at the bit of frozen material, “but there’s about a billion viruses in there.”
“Well, now that I’ve seen it, I guess you may as well put it away.” She didn’t talk as he replaced the vial in the metal tray, closed the freezer and redid the bicycle lock. Marissa then glanced around the lab. It was an alien environment, but the individual pieces of equipment seemed relatively commonplace.
“Is there anything here that’s not in any regular lab?”
“Regular labs don’t have air locks and a negative pressure system,” he said.
“No, I meant actual scientific equipment.”
Tad looked around the room. His eyes rested on the protective hoods over the workbenches in the center island. “Those are unique,” he said, pointing. “They’re called type 3 HEPA filter systems. Is that what you mean?”
“Are they only used for maximum containment labs?” asked Marissa.
“Absolutely. They have to be custom constructed.”
Marissa walked over to the hood in place over Tad’s setup. It was like a giant exhaust fan over a stove. “Who makes them?” she asked.
“You can look,” said Tad, touching a metal label affixed to the side. It said: Lab Engineering, South Bend, Indiana. Marissa wondered if anyone had ordered similar hoods lately. She knew the idea in the back of her mind was crazy, but ever since she’d decided that the Phoenix episode had been related to the custard, she hadn’t been able to stop wondering if any of the outbreaks had been deliberately
caused. Or, if not, whether any physician had been doing some research which had gotten out of control.
“Hey, I thought you were interested in my work,” said Tad suddenly.
“I am,” insisted Marissa. “I’m just a little overwhelmed by this place.”