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happens if one does escape?” Carrie Jacobs, Dr. Pankow’s new research assistant, asked.
    Before the doctor could respond, General Willard did. “We’ve taken precautions so that won’t happen; a full bee suit, a security access door, and researchers must go through a sealed room to get at those dangerous mothers. Pardon the pun.”
    A slight giggle circled the room. It irritated Pankow. This was serious business, not a place for stupid puns.
    “If one female escapes or gets into the wrong hands it will have dire effects. That is why all doors require a key card, and an electrical Flash-Kill system will be installed next year. Funding cuts, you understand, made it impossible to purchase this system until then,” General Bider said, giving no indication he was sorry about the funding issues.
    “If one ever escapes it might mean the end of the world,” Pankow finished, allowing his last words to reverberate in their minds.
    “I think Dr. Pankow is reading too many science fiction magazines.” General Bider laughed. “These flies will save our soldiers’ lives. We have them under control gentlemen. Are there any questions I can answer?”
    Several hands shot up.
    * * *
    Several months later word came down from the army; they would not end the project nor kill the flies. Testing would resume. Pankow was stunned.
    The flies were a weapon the army planned to utilize. They hadn’t even considered the ramifications of their actions, Pankow surmised; otherwise they never would have allowed the project to continue. He made the only moral decision he could; he would dispose of the killer flies, with or without approval. They were an abomination—a lethal one at that.
    “Carrie,” he said. He had ceased calling her Ms. Jacobs shortly after hiring her two years before.
    “Yes, Dr. Pankow.” Carrie had always been so formal.
    “Would you help me eliminate the ‘mothers’?”
    Carrie, standing 5′6″ with short auburn hair, looked over the paper she was working on. Her beautiful manicured nails tapped on her teeth as she looked him up and down.
    Pankow watched, admiring her slender fingers as they danced across her snowy white teeth. Having trained her straight out of college he knew her habits well. She was considering his question.
    “I thought we weren’t supposed to exterminate them.” Her face wore a mask of confusion. “Wasn’t that the official word?”
    “We aren’t. But I’m doing it anyhow. We’ve talked about this before. They want us to keep the flies alive even though they are incapable of being controlled. What happens if these flies mix with the general fly population? They might mutate into a new strain we have no weapons against. God forbid, one female escapes. We can’t be sure of anything, but I’d rather be overly cautious. It’s my duty as their creator to destroy them. If you don’t want to help I understand.” And he would. It meant both of them getting fired if they got caught. Even if they didn’t, John cared so deeply for Carrie he had questioned even suggesting her involvement.
    Carrie stood up from her desk stretching her arms into the air. “I’ll suit up?”
    “No way, Carrie. I’m doing it. I just need your help.” John struggled into his protective suit. “I’ll be glad to get rid of those creatures,” he pointed at the acrylic fly cage. “They give me nightmares.”
    Carried helped place the space-age glass helmet on John. His eyes flashed his resolve. He felt responsible, she knew, he’d told her that before. “Let’s get on with it John. I’d like a new job by lunchtime,” she said, knowing as well as he did that this would cost them their jobs.
    John stared at her silently. Carrie had always called him Dr. Pankow. “Why so informal all of a sudden? You’ve always been so professionally distant.”
    “If I’m going to commit job-icide for the man I love, who needs professionalism?”
    Love . She loved him too. He motioned for her to move closer with