Free In The Falling Light by John L. Campbell Page A

the U.S. Army exclusively for Project Blackleg.
    When one thought of secret, underground
military research facilities, places like the Utah and Nevada
deserts came to mind. Not coastal, heavily-populated Connecticut.
It was both coincidental and ironic that this research should have
been carried out so close to the town of Lyme, the original
discovery point for the disease back in 1975. It should have
been Nevada, she thought, as far away from people as possible.
Someplace you could quickly nuke if something went wrong.
    Her finger moved the screen around. A
project like this should have never been.
    She traced the perimeter fence and double
tapped at each guard post, confirming that all the MPs had been
pulled back into the safety of the bunker. She next scrolled
through the floor-plans of the above ground structures, looking for
the heat signatures which would indicate people who had missed the
evacuation to the sub-levels. There was no sign of life. No human
life, anyway. Her fingertips slipped and tapped through all three
subterranean levels, no longer looking for heat sources (there were
plenty of those) but checking to see that the Firebreaks were
secure. These were triple-thick steel blast doors which, during
lockdown, compartmentalized the complex much like watertight doors
on a ship. As Major Peck had indicated, E-11 was secure.
    She snorted.
    Not secure enough, clearly. Not tight enough
to keep L-2207 from escaping. And the little bastard was not only
blood and fluid-borne as intended, but had also figured out a way
to become airborne. That had never been intended. Nor had
its side effects.
    “Colonel?”
    Joanna looked over her shoulder at Master
Sergeant Jackson standing in a doorway, one of her communication
people.
    “Ma’am, ten minute warning for your
call.”
    “Inform Major Peck, please.”
    “He’s already in the conference room,
Colonel.”
    Joanna nodded. “Carry on.” She switched apps
and pulled up data she would need for her call with the Pentagon.
They had access to the same information, but she would be expected
to give the brief. Data and an assortment of close-up color
photographs appeared on screen. The images were disturbing.
    Project Blackleg’s objective had been the
testing of accelerated biological processes, with the primary
subject being Ixodes Scapularis , the North American
Blacklegged Tick, selected for its durability and capacity to carry
and transmit ten known diseases. The introduction of radical growth
hormones showed early progress, and the scientific minds at the
Pentagon quickly saw the potential for weaponization turn to
reality with the development of Batch L-2207. Simply put, the goal
had been to breed large specimens which could be infected with any
number of nasty diseases, then release them in enemy territory or
population and let them spread death. No exposure of American
troops, no cruise missiles or carriers, and very, very cost
effective. Technically, the project was a violation of
international law and a breach of half a dozen treaties the U.S.
had signed or even sponsored. And it was also just like many other
nasty, top secret weapons programs her country developed. Although
there was no immediate need and certainly no plans to use it, the
generals and the White House liked to have options. Just in
case.
    So they had done as asked, and succeeded.
And for whatever it was worth, not a single specimen had escaped
the complex. In fact they had all been terminated in their breeding
chambers the moment everything went wrong. None had gotten out.
    It was L-2207 that snuck past her
multi-layer security program.
    Joanna closed her iPad and made her way to
the conference room, finding Major Peck on a phone. He glanced at
her, said “yes, sir,” and hung up.
    “What was that?”
    “Just verifying the link.” He pointed to the
big screen on one wall. “It’s a video conference.”
    Joanna didn’t like the way he had trouble
meeting her eyes.
    “Is Dr. DeVries