The Following Day...
Pen felt terrible.
She'd barely gotten a wink of sleep over the assault of vicious headaches that felt as though someone was drilling into her skull. She had tossed and turned, but nothing had brought her any relief. After hours of suffering in silence, she had given up on the idea of sleep and resigned herself to the internet, under the bed sheets, whilst her parents snored on oblivious in the other room. Dawn had came after an eternity of glancing up at the crack in her curtains.
The worse thing was that, the following morning, she hadn't been able to provide her mother with any physical proof that she was ill. Though her internal temperature fluctuated between artic and volcanic, her mother said the cheap home thermometer had read off normal and that she looked okay, apart from the bags under her eyes. Her vision clouded around the edges at times and a constant ringing pestered her hearing, but at least she was on her feet. Barely.
Maybe it was food poisoning. The food that they had offered at the rock lab was bland and tasteless - the generic chicken nuggets, chips and beans, that made her feel like she was five years old again - so maybe that was the source. Grabbing her school bag, she rubbed her forehead as she stumbled out the house, on the walk to school, wishing the sun would turn down its brightness setting by a few notches. She remembered, half way there, that she had some algebra homework in for first period that she hadn't done. Oh well. She felt too rotten to care.
When she arrived at her math class, she stumbled in and across to her desk, dropping her bag on her chair. Running a hand through her ruffled, blonde ponytail, she headed off in search of a water fountain as, in her disorientation, she had left her water bottle at home. She ignored the few students that shot her wary looks - she wasn't known for her sweet temperament - and eventually, found an old water fountain at the end of a long row of lockers. She had a long drink and, though settled her temperature a little, the light-headedness refused to go.
Dr Goode was not happy.
Not happy was an understatement. He was absolutely furious. Someone had broken into laboratory 22 and absorbed the new strain of the canine virus that he had spent months - no years - designing and cultivating, ready for his new Pilot. And now, it, and it's mystery carrier, had vanished.
And that wasn't the worst part.
"THE BLOODY CCTV WAS DOWN?!" Dr Goode bellowed at a shaking Wesley, who was attempting to hide behind his clipboard as he relayed the news the ex-receptionist (she had packed her bags early this morning) had stammered to him earlier. Him and the other scientists had drawn straws to see who would tell Goode. Wesley, as usual, had lost.
"W-w-well apparently t-the c-c-cables were b-being c-changed..." Wesley managed to stutter out in something resembling a coherent sentence. Dr Goode - beyond angry - had tossed half his pen supply across the room, his desk now severely lacking in stationary. His cheeks had reddened and his hands had clenched into two large, white fists. He looked ready to strangle anything that came within a meter of him so Wesley maintained a healthy distance between himself and his boss.
"I bet - no, I know - it was them, from Enterprise Labs. They bloody knew the CCTV were down and sent a bloody spy...I'm calling Jenson right now and we're going to sort this out. Otherwise, I'm going down there myself and I swear that I will murder that buffoon..."
"W-w-well, S-sir, the s-s-school t-trip was in y-y-yesterday-"
"What? And you think them snotty, little toddlers had something to do with this? They can barely PICK THEIR NOSES, LET ALONE A LOCK!"
Wesley backed against the door, his spindly hands fumbling for the door handle, so he could make a swift exit should the need arise. His heart was thumping fit to burst. Dr Goode was pacing behind his desk, rubbing his chin so viciously that Wesley was worried he may start a fire on Dr Goode's own face. On second thoughts, that wouldn't be a bad thing, considering the foul mood Mr Goode was in...
"Actually - Enterprise may have got one of those kids to get it for them. May have infected one of the bloody kids as their own weapon. The virus can only be contracted in the lab 22 - we made sure, keeping the conditions to the exact degree - and it loses its contagiousness outside it but, yes, perhaps they intended to use a kid...their own weapon seedling. Wesley? I'll deal with Enterprise but get Pilot to that school, just in case."
Dr Goode seemed to have calmed a fraction.
"Y-y-yes Sir", Wesley muttered.