In fresh tactical pants and a black shirt, Jake stood just inside the office door. He attempted to project an aura of composure, but Stanton's gaze, sharp as broken glass, chipped away at his resolve with every glance. The gray-haired man in the crisp charcoal suit and red tie remained absorbed in his silent phone call. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through Jake as he remembered the sounds echoing from this very office while he waited in the hallway for his turn to face Stanton – Janet’s choked sobs, followed by the sharp crack of… he didn’t want to think about it. His stomach churned.

Stanton remained motionless, not a word passing his lips. Jake knew the man on the other end was likely sweating bullets. He'd heard the panicked ramblings of underlings too many times. Fear made them spill their guts, hoping for mercy. This one was lucky to be on the phone, not facing Stanton’s wrath directly. That usually ended as messily as Lab One had just fifteen minutes ago. Jake swallowed hard, the memory still vivid.

To avoid Stanton's frigid gaze, Jake scanned the room. The desk, a relic from the before, gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights. A phone, a clock, a stack of papers, and a marble pen jar sat meticulously arranged on its overly lacquered surface. Stanton’s chair, rich black leather, looked new, while the two facing it were of indeterminate age and uncomfortable design. Not that comfort was possible in this man’s presence. A spindly plant huddled in the corner by the tightly shut blinds. On the opposite wall, the Caladrius statue, its white wings spread in silent flight, seemed to watch him with cold, unblinking eyes. The air in the office hung heavy with the scent of old leather and stale cigar smoke.

Stanton’s eyes flashed. Jake couldn’t tell if it was in response to the phone call or his own unease. Best not to risk it. He glanced down at the industrial gray carpet. A bead of blood snaked from his nose and landed on his immaculately polished boot. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, praying Stanton hadn’t noticed. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth.

Stanton placed the phone on the receiver and motioned Jake forward. “Any news?”

Bile burned his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge it, but the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. “Yes, Doctor.”

“Well?” Doctor Stanton flashed a cold smile that sent a shiver down Jake’s spine.

“She escaped.”

“How?”

Jake watched as the Doctor’s smile twisted into an angry clench. “All we know at this point is she subdued one of the midnight guards.”

“Midnight guard, you say?”

“Yes.”

The Doctor cleared his throat. “This guard wouldn’t be of any relation to you, would it?”

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An itch started between his shoulder blades. “Yes, sir.”

“Your father is quickly becoming a liability, boy.”

Beads of sweat broke out on Jake’s forehead. “Apologies, sir.”

“The old man’s talents helped me a great deal from the beginning. I suppose I can forgive him a slip up or two for still wanting to play his part so enthusiastically after all these years.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Stanton leaned forward. “Do you know the phrase, three strikes and you’re out?”

Jake shook his head, no.

“Ask your father.” The bile rose again. Stanton continued, “Where is she?”

“Our agents followed her tracks about three miles outside Ashland, but the trail ended.”

“What do you mean, ended?”

“Someone must have picked her up.”

“Whom?”

“Unconfirmed, but I’ve ordered a search of the surrounding areas as we speak.”

Stanton was silent for a few moments. Each tick of the clock on the wall echoed in Jake’s ears, a death knell.

“Jake, have I ever told you the story about the Caladrius?”

He tried not to show his confusion at the change of subject. “No, sir.”

“It was a mythical bird from ancient Roman times. A mighty government in its time.” Jake’s eyes flicked to the statue. “The bird lived with the king, and they said it had the power to determine if someone lived or died. A sick and diseased person would come before the king to find out their fate. If the Caladrius turned away from you, your fate was sealed to death. If the bird looked you in the eye, it would pull the disease from you and expel the sickness into the sun.”

Stanton’s pause was either for dramatic effect or because he wanted to be sure Jake was still listening. The risk of speaking out of turn was always great. Jake hesitated, his heart hammering against his ribs, before saying, “Interesting, sir.”

“To choose who lives and who dies. Interesting, indeed. Do you see the parallel, Jake? I decide who lives and who dies in my kingdom.”

Doctor Stanton grew silent again, watching him. Jake waited, wondering what the hell the bird from a civilization long dead before the bombs fell on this one had to do with anything at all. Was he the Caladrius now, judging him, deciding his fate? But he’d learned long ago to wait for his employer to make the first move. His body ached for rest after the ordeal in the lab, but he shoved those thoughts away and waited, hands behind his back, for his orders.

Stanton finally moved, sliding one of his desk drawers open and rifling for something inside. Jake saw the flash of light off metal as Stanton cleared his throat, stood, and smoothed his red tie with his left hand before moving to Jake’s side. He pressed the barrel of a pistol to Jake’s temple and pulled back on the hammer. “Do I need to remind you how important it is that you find her?”

Jake swallowed the lump in his throat as he saw Stanton’s eye twitch from his peripheral vision. “No sir.”

“Then find her before I replace you and your senile father.”

Stanton lowered the gun and made his way back to the desk. Jake didn’t fail to notice the gun remained cocked.

Jake tried to grab the door handle with trembling hands, fumbled for a moment before turning the knob.

“Oh, and Jake…”

Jake flinched and turned back to Dr. Stanton, the doorknob still gripped in his hand. “Yes, sir?”

“Clean your filthy boot before you dare step foot back in my office.”

“Of course. I’m sorry, sir.”

Jake exited the office, took five steps down the sterile white hallway before emptying the contents of his stomach into the nearest trash can. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and continued down the corridor.