Denise sat in the hospital hallway, puffing on an E-cig as she stared into the middle distance. Smoking was a habit she had picked up in Europe during her first tour. It was a stupid habit with no discernible benefit. It had helped her to meet Bill though, so it wasn’t all bad. The E-cig was a poor facsimile of the real thing, but it did help to take the edge off and she did have quite an edge.

Connor was mercifully asleep after that… whatever that was. His screams echoed in her memories, joining the chorus of those who had died on the battlefields and medical stations she had worked on. She had seen her share of blood and guts. A lifetime as a nurse had not prepared her to see what Connor had gone through. It was different when they were your own — doubly so when their plight defied both logic and sanity. She couldn’t kiss him and lie that it would be okay. Something was wrong with him — horribly wrong.

She took another drag, blowing berry scented vapour in the air. Denise knew enough about the government and their contractors to fear what they would do to him. He was every bio-engineers wet dream. A boy that could heal himself from mortal wounds… Who wouldn’t want a piece of him? She needed to get him out of this hospital, before anyone got to him first.

“Mrs Hill?” asked a woman’s voice.

Denise almost jumped out of her skin. A middle aged woman in a black pant-suit stood over her, briefcase in hand.

“Yes?” she replied. “Can I help you?”

“I am Doctor Edwards from the Centre for Disease Control and Prevention,” said the woman flashing an identification badge. “I’m here to help ascertain the nature of your son’s affliction.”

Denise looked from the woman’s badge to the two men standing behind her.

Fuck.

She stood up, placing the E-cig in her pocket. Her thoughts raced. Should she beg? Should she act tough? Should she play along? Denise closed her eyes. Words failed her.

“Are you okay, Mrs Hill?” asked Doctor Edwards.

Denise shook her head. “It’s all a bit much,” she said, voice straining.

Edwards placed her briefcase on the ground. “I understand.”

The two women measured each other up. Denise tried to shrug the worry and anxiety off. Edwards gave her a half smile.

“We’re here to help him, Mrs Hill. There is no need to worry.”

Denise repressed the need to chuckle. “I do worry. What do you plan on doing with him?”

Edwards pointed to her aides. “Take him and the others to a secure and safe facility where we can monitor them. We must first ascertain whether his strange affliction is contagious.”

“The others have shown no sign of anything,” said Denise.

“They haven’t been tested by our scientists,” replied Edwards. “The incubation period is an unknown factor.”

Denise nodded distractedly as she chewed on the fingernails of her hand. “What if he doesn’t have a disease?”

Edwards sighed. “That is what we need to figure out…”

“I haven’t shown any symptoms,” said Denise. “Neither has anyone at his school or any of the people in this hospital he works with.”

“And we will monitor as many as we can, starting with all of those who came into contact with him immediately after his unfortunate accident.”

“He didn’t show any symptoms prior to… that morning,” said Denise. “Does that mean you need to take my other son and me as a precaution? How about everyone he has had contact with over the last week? The last month?”

“We will make that assessment after our initial tests, here in Boise General,” replied Edwards. “Please, take a seat. I have some questions, if you don’t mind.”

Denise stood for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “Okay.” She sat down on the end of the bench seat.

Edwards took a notepad and pen from her jacket pocket, thumbing through the pages until she found a fresh one. “Now Mrs Hill, according to our file you have two children. Connor and Avery, yes?”

Denise nodded her head, her hand toying with the E-cig in her pocket.

Edwards ticked something on her pad. “You’ve stated that there was no evidence of anything out of the ordinary prior to your son’s accident. Do you recall any other incident, anything where you thought he may not be an ordinary teenage boy?”

Denise looked at Dr Edwards askance. “What kind of fucking question is that? He’s been a normal, healthy boy. He’s always been a little small perhaps, but nothing overtly weird, until now.”

“No feats of incredible strength? Burn marks on his clothes, anything like that?”

“No! What the fuck are you on about?” said Denise, shaking her head.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Edwards nodded and scribbled in her pad. “Did you notice the restraints on your son?”

“Yes. He’s handcuffed to the bed.”

Edwards leaned forward slightly. “How about the broken strap they had holding his chest? One of your colleagues said he snapped it.”

Denise’s mouth gaped. “I… don’t recall…”

“Do you believe he is strong enough to break a…” Edwards paused as she flipped through her pad. “Strong enough to break a strap with a working load of fifteen hundred pounds?”

Denise shook her head. “He’s tiny. He could barely lift his school bag.”

“And yet he did,” Prompted Edwards.

“These are some very odd and direct questions, Dr Edwards. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Edwards sat back, tapping her pen against the paper pad. “Yes.”

“Will you tell me?” asked Denise, her anger rising.

“I see no harm,” replied Edwards. “Have you been watching the news, Mrs Hill?”

Denise shrugged. “Not often. I work every hour under the sun and moon.”

“So you haven’t heard about the strange and outlandish tales of super-powered teens causing trouble across America?” asked Edwards with a strange smile on her lips and a tilt of the head.

Denise rubbed her chin. Was this woman serious? “I heard rumours. I thought it was just the independent media touting crazy conspiracy theories again.”

“It is crazy, but they aren’t conspiracies. There are kids that can literally fly and throw trucks at each other.”

“And you think Connor may be one?” asked Denise as a feeling of dread wormed its way into her brain.

“Given his history and his current predicament, yes,” replied Edwards.

“What history?”

“His father was a Pro-Human, was he not?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“All of our current evidence of ‘super kids’ points to the origins of their heritage. All of them had a Pro-Human parent,” said Edwards, letting the information register with Denise.

Denise stared off into space. “What does this mean for my family?” she said.

Edwards moved a little closer. “I’m very sorry to say that we have been commissioned by the F.B.I and the Pentagon in a joint task force to find all children sired by Pro-Humans. They are to be contained until a cure can be found.”

“So Connor doesn’t have a disease?” asked Denise.

“No. But that doesn’t mean that he can’t hurt people with his… whatever he can do,” replied Edwards.

“And Avery?”

“He will need to come with us too.”

Denise had experienced some dreadful events in her lifetime, the lions share during the war. Stitching together soldiers blown apart by Mini-ex, treating plasma burns, watching officers die a lingering, painful death from poisoning, the constant shelling of Kiev… The thing that stuck in her mind the most, like some festering splinter, were the Pro-Humans. The initial Mark 1’s were powerful, yes, but also prone to horrific side-effects. Sometimes the body would reject an organ or implant, creating a cascade of other failures. She had witnessed these warriors’ decay on operating tables as their own bodies shut down or grow beyond their set limitations as defective genes spiralled out of control. The government had done these things to their own people, treating them as nothing more than lab rats. And it was happening again – to her family no less. She had to protect her boys.

“I see,” said Denise standing. She took a long drag on the E-cig as she walked up and down the corridor. “I see…” She pulled her cell-phone from her pocket, and tapped on the screen.

“Your family will be safe, Mrs Hill. There is no need to worry,” said Edwards. “We need to contain these children before they can harm themselves or anyone else.”

“Uh huh,” replied Denise absently as she slid her phone back into her pocket. “I need to get back to work…”

Edwards stood. “I need you to sign some forms first. They say you agree to our tests and release them into our custody…”

Denise started walking away. She had to get back to Connor and warn him.

“Mrs Hill? I need you to come back,” said Edwards, rising to her feet.

Denise put her head down and walked as fast she dared.

“Hey, she’s talking to you!” shouted Reeves, one of Edward’s aides.

Edwards pointed at Denise. “Follow her and bring her back. We need these forms signed. Arrest her if you need to. You radio Karl. Tell him to pick up the other kid,” she directed to the men accompanying her. Reeves followed Denise while Kippenberger pulled out a radio and walked a small distance away to contact the F.B.I agents waiting outside the Hill household.

Denise heard the agent call after her. She broke into a run down the stark white corridor, her shoes at risk of slipping on the polished floor. She dodged the few nurses and orderlies out on rounds this time of night. The agent followed, calling her name. Denise wept. The military had their hooks in her once again — pulling on the one thing she had left — her family. They would take her boys. That was a certainty. Would she see them again?

“Stop!” yelled the C.D.C agent.

She hoped Avery would obey her hasty text message and leave the apartment. It probably didn’t make any sense to the boy.

Men coming for you. Run and hide.

She could only hope he bothered to check his phone. Denise ran as fast as she could in the direction of Connor’s ward. They had moved all of the patients involved in the attack, including the doctors and nurses who came in direct contact with his blood to the children’s ward, sealing it off with rudimentary quarantine procedures. She was meant to enter the area in a bio-hazard suit. She didn’t have time to scrub and don the bulky outfit. Two national guardsmen in Tac-Bio armour stood at the entrance to the ward, assault rifles slung over their shoulders.

“Let me through,” screamed Denise, motioning for the soldiers to stand aside.

One stepped back, seemingly surprised someone would yell at him. The other kept his ground and pointed his rifle at Denise. “This area is off limits to anyone without the correct safety gear, mam.”

“Let me through!” screamed Denise despite having a gun pointing at her. ‘I need to see my son!”

“Stop her!” yelled Reeves, catching up.

The guardsman caught Denise around her waist as she attempted to barge past, lifting her off her feet. She kicked and battered him with her fists. The guardsmen wrestled her away. She took a deep breath and shouted a loud as she could.

“Connor! Run!”