Ron woke to an alarm. “Did someone break into the lab?” Once, a group of local teenagers had tried to break into the lab hoping to score some drugs. That was the only other time the alarm had sounded. Ron called the lab. No answer.

Someone should be manning the damn phones, Ron thought.

Ron dialed the emergency security number.

“Building security,” a man answered in a boring monotone voice.

“This is Ron Allison, head of the research lab. Sorry to bother you so late, but I received an alarm. Is everything okay there?”

“What sort of alarm?” The tone of the man had changed.

“When a break-in at the lab occurs, I receive an alarm: the old-fashioned contact sensor kind, not the new-fangled app kind,” Rob said.

Silence.

“Are you still there?”

“Sorry, yes. We’ve been having technical problems all evening. It’s nothing serious,” the man said.

“That may be, but I have critical research in that lab,” Ron said.

“Tell you what. If I check out the alarm, would that make you feel better?”

“That would. Please call me.”

Ron didn’t like this. It felt wrong. Five minutes later, he was driving to the research lab. With any luck, he’d be there in half an hour. Snow started falling as he drove to the lab.

Thirty-five minutes later, Ron pulled up to the research lab and pulled into the underground parking garage. Most of Pretzelverse’s buildings were connected to the various underground parking garages throughout Pretzelverse’s campus. Ron pulled into his assigned parking spot and tried to access the doors to the elevators. Damn—the badge reader’s not working. I guess that feller was right about the technical problems with the building. I just hope that the specimens are still intact, Ron thought. He walked across the garage. He would need to walk around the exterior of the facility to see if he could access the lab now.

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It’s so cold tonight.

Ron avoided several drifts of snow that settled on the garage exterior. This would have been less than a five-minute walk, but the bad weather made things difficult for Ron. After rounding the next corner, he could see the side entrance to the research lab. Snowdrifts made some walkways impassible. Best to stay in the more trafficked areas of the path, Ron thought. He stopped when he got to the entrance. Two sets of doors kept visitors from just entering the lab without authorization. Both doors were wide open, and Ron could see several bodies lying in drying pools of blood. Ron froze. He needed to run, get help, get out of there—

“Don’t move,” a man said from behind him.

Someone grabbed one of his hands. He felt handcuffs pinch his wrists.

“What’s your name?” the man said.

“Ron Allison. I’m the lab manager. Who are you?”

“I’m the guy asking the questions.”

“I’m guessing this isn’t building security,” Ron said.

The man chuckled.

The man’s radio came alive. “Norris, what’s your twenty?” a voice asked.

“I just captured a hostile,” the man replied. “Heading to you now.”

“Building security?”

“Lab manager. I just found your way into that vault.”

“Roger that.”

The radio went dead.

“Mr. Allison,” the man said, “we will walk into the building. Nice and slow. Any sudden moves will be bad for your health. You understand?”

Ron nodded.

“Now, if you would be so kind as to lead me to your lab, we need help unlocking your specimen vault,” Ron’s captor said.

Ron choked up as he walked into his lab. Most of the people lying before him he had worked with for years. He walked around their bodies. The hall before him was even more gruesome.

So much . . . blood, Ron thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the outside door to the vault. Several men dressed in military fatigues waited. The vault had several scratches on it; it looked like someone had tried to open it with a crowbar. Ron activated the biometric lock, the vault door opened. The room got colder as the containment vault door opened. Norris gestured at another man, who brought a containment box: a vessel designed to hold the precious cargo. Another man pointed his weapon at Ron, who raised his hands.

“Lower your weapon. The boss wants both packages intact,” Norris said.

The lights went out for Ron as someone struck his head from behind.