Shanna

SHANNA was still screaming when the roof of the hospital exploded in an incandescent flare. The boom and shockwave stopped her in her tracks and she watched in horror as the windows and walls of the fourth floor vomited flame and debris, followed almost immediately by the third and second and first. Every entrance, every exit blew its doors and shot flames like giant blowtorches.

And then the floors began to collapse--first the roof onto the fourth, then the fourth onto the third, pancaking all the way down to ground level, leaving only a flame-riddled cloud of smoke and dust and debris on the far side of the parking lot.

A cheer went up from the watching soldiers and she wanted to kill them. Instead, she began to cry. Huge, wracking sobs shook her to her toes.

Clay... she felt the ring box in her pocket pressing against her thigh. A good man, a hero, and no one would know. No, wait. Those kids would know. They'd remember the guy with the big cool gun. Clay would love to be remembered that way.

Colonel Halford walked over, told his men to release her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You can take that sorry and shove it up your ass."

She stormed away, and no one bothered to stop her. The cool night was now hot as the summer in Nevada, and the burning hospital bright enough to see the damage that had been done to it. The autoclave had performed as advertised. The building wasn't just sterilized. It was annihilated. Nothing could have survived that.

Choking back a sob, Shanna headed toward the TV crew. They were interviewing a man. A doctor. Incredibly, his scrubs were pristine, not a mark on them. He held a sleeping baby close to his chest, while a good-looking brunette asked him how he had managed to save the infant.

"Her name is Daniella. She was handed to me by your cameraman when the helicopter landed. Incredibly, some soldiers almost shot both of us, until I could prove we hadn't been bitten."

"Is the baby okay?" the reporter asked.

"I'm happy to report she's completely healthy. Even in tragedies such as this, miracles happen."

Something about the man's voice was familiar. She walked closer, to get a look at his face. He was young, longish brown hair, had a strong jaw and deep eyes. Shanna immediately found him attractive, and the feeling shamed her, especially so soon after Clay's death.

But something about him drew her.

The TV reporter seemed to feel the same way. It appeared that at any moment, she'd leap into his arms.

"Thank you, Doctor Cook."

As soon as the camera turned away, Dr. Cook approached.

"Hello, Shanna."

Shanna sniffled. "Do we know each other?"

"We met once before. I was Mortimer's doctor."

He reached out his hand. Shanna took it, finding his grip surprisingly cold.

"You seem familiar, but I'm afraid I really don't recall you."

He smiled, revealing absolutely perfect teeth. "That's okay. I'm arranging a ride into town. Would you like to come along?"

Shanna seriously considered it, but something about the handsome man struck her as creepy.

"No, thanks."

Darkness flashed across Dr. Cook's eyes, so quickly Shanna couldn't be sure she hadn't imagined it. The doctor bowed politely.

"Some other time, perhaps."

Then he pressed his cold lips to her hand, turned on his heel, and walked off into the night with the infant.

Shanna wondered where she should go next. She thought of Clay's father. He didn't sound like someone she'd want to hang around with, but a survivalist type might be just what she needed right now. He deserved to know that his son was dead, and how he died. And he'd be the type to believe why he died.

Where had he said Daddy lived?

Up near Silverton?

That was where she would go.