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general health of the injured man as the soldiers sprinted to the waiting van. As they slid the barely conscious target in the back of the van, Wilson began to run an IV and administer an oxygen mask to stabilize him. The others filed into the getaway van as it rolled away and they exited the structure from the backside entrance, looking inconspicuous to any onlookers. The van looked to be a courier vehicle from the outside; inside it more resembled an ambulance. The mark lay on a padded stretcher surrounded by one side of the interior having shelves with emergency medical supplies. The rest of the interior looked like an armory with guns, ammo, and grenades hanging. As they sped away, they were shrouded in silence as all inside—save Hastings, who was driving—focused their interest on the man lying before them. All were concerned with his health—after all, they wouldn’t get paid if he was dead!
    Everett kept a line on the police channel, giving quick status reports every few minutes to break the maddening silence. Firefighters and police had arrived at the scene and were sifting through the rubble, trying to figure out what had happened and who may be hurt. The charges were small enough to destroy the vehicles, but not so much to make the carcass unidentifiable. The ruse would work; the police would believe that the man was dead and end the investigation soon after from lack of evidence. The target now belonged to Taylor and his group of Frankensteins, and nothing could save him from that.
    They rode quietly towards the local Air Force base, the sound of the rain drummed constantly on the roof of the van. Wilson checked and double checked the man’s life signs to reassure himself that he was stable. Other than some scrapes, a concussion, and a broken forearm which was now in a splint, the target was alive and well. Taylor would be happy; his main subject was about to be delivered and he could continue with whatever it was he had going on in that mausoleum he called a lab.
    For his part in this, Wilson wondered if this job would be the one that damned his eternal soul when his time came! Since the very offer had come across the channels, he had known feelings like this would rise. Using every bit of his training, he pushed down those feelings into that empty place we all have inside for times such as this. But as he looked down at the man on the stretcher he came to the realization that no matter how hard he tried, this moment would leave a mark on him forever.

TWO
    Rocky Mountains, Utah –
Military Installation Code Named White Rock
    Consciousness was a tricky thing for Aaron; it came and went in the blink of an eye. His concept of time was all but lost, as his body was riddled with pain that kept him at arm’s length of understanding the world around him. Even in his sleep, he couldn’t get away from the constant waves of pain! In and out of a mild coma he slipped, and when he was awake he struggled to comprehend what was happening around him and where he was.
    Grasping at his fragmented memories, Aaron could remember a day with rain. He remembered leaving work and going to his vehicle across the street. Then the feeling of something out of place washed over him followed by the memory of burning heat before things went black. Then he awoke, looking up at a white ceiling and fluorescent lights, unable to move, with his head aching and his mind full of questions.
    His body was strapped to the bed, his neck immobilized and his head strapped down as well. The sensation of cold steel in his arms led him to the fact that he had more than a few intravenous feeds in him. The sound of a heart monitor and other machines were a constant in his room. Frustration raged throughout his entire being; he couldn’t even scream for help because of the tubes down his throat. A hospital! he thought, I was hurt in the blast and I’m in a hospital!
    Just as he was starting to try and piece some things together, he was dragged back