Free Generation M by Scott Cramer

and wheeled around, ready to defend herself. The boy had a shaved head and was shorter than her. He wore a hooded sweatshirt. Diamonds studded the outside of one ear.
    “Stop it,” he said in a hushed but forceful voice.
    His calloused hands gripped her wrists hard, but she pulled her right arm free. She flailed and kicked, and he seemed shocked that someone so sick was fighting back.
    He took several steps back and raised his hands as if to surrender. “Abby. Stop it.”
    How did he know her name?
    She stared at the boy. “Oh my God,” she cried. “Toby.”

1.15
COLONY EAST
    Dawson noted the unusual seating arrangement for the emergency meeting of company leaders and command staff. Ordinarily, Navy personnel clustered together in one quadrant of the big round table in the Gregor Mendel conference room, while the scientists sat on the opposite side of the table. Now, Lieutenant Mathews and Doctor Perkins were elbow to elbow, while Doctor Droznin and Doctor Levine perched closer to Dawson, Lieutenant Marks, Lieutenant Masters, and Admiral Samuels.
    Dawson worried more than ever about the old man. The parts of his personality that commanded respect were missing. He seemed hollow.
    Doctor Perkins glanced at his gold watch and began the meeting at precisely the top of the hour. “Doctor Levine, will you give us a status update on the antibiotic shipment?”
    Doctor Levine, a soft-spoken scientist with graying hair, said the jet from Atlanta Colony had landed an hour ago. “The pills will be delivered to Medical Clinic 17.”
    “That’s wonderful news,” Doctor Perkins said. “Lieutenant Mathews, will you coordinate the distribution of pills to the companies?”
    “Yes, sir,” she said.
    Perkins reviewed the antibiotic’s effectiveness. “One dose is typically all that’s required for protection against the bacteria. If someone has contracted AHA-B, they should feel better within a few hours of taking a pill. For others, a second dose will be needed to provide a full cure. We requested enough pills for Generation M to take multiple doses.”
    Dawson’s spirits lifted. With the colony having received more doses than it needed, he could skim pills and obtain at least two each for his daughter, Sarah, Abigail Leigh, her brother Jordan, and Toby Jones. Beyond them, every additional pill he acquired for Jonzy to take with him could save the life of a survivor outside the colony.
    “Do you wish to add anything Doctor Droznin?” Perkins asked.
    Droznin kept her nose buried in her laptop.
    Perkins cleared his throat. “Doctor Droznin?”
    “Nothing to add,” she replied curtly.
    Dawson wondered if the chilly exchange and seating arrangement signaled friction between the two. He disliked the Russian scientist, but he could not deny her toughness. She’d been shot in the knee less than forty-eight hours ago by Cadet Leigh, yet Droznin had hobbled to the meeting on her own steam.
    “Are there other questions?” Doctor Perkins asked.
    Dawson waved his hand. “Can you share any updates on the plan to distribute pills outside the colonies?”
    Dawson had asked the question many times before.
    “Generation M is, and will remain, our top priority,” Perkins said. “But I remain deeply concerned about the children who fall outside of our direct care. We’re doing the very best we can in light of the available resources.”
    Dawson waded deeper into the quicksand of Doctor Perkins’s lies. “If the plant in Alpharetta is operational, we can manufacture and distribute pills and care for Generation M at the same time.”
    Perkins cast his eyes around the table. “Once we’ve completed the evacuation, we can turn our attention to other matters. Lieutenant Mathews will brief you on the next steps of the evacuation plan.”
    Mathews smirked at Dawson, a subtle dig that nobody else would have picked it up.
    “All companies are moving to Atlanta Colony,” she began. “The evacuation flights will leave tomorrow. Armed