On a day in late January, I was grading labs in my office when there was a knock on the door.

“Come.”

Two people, a man and a woman: I instantly knew who, and what, they were. My face probably betrayed my guilt in a heartbeat.

“Got a minute, Professor Fanning?” the woman said. “I’m Detective Reynaldo, this is Detective Phelps. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” I feigned surprise. “Sit down, Detectives.”

“We’ll stand, if that’s all right.”

The conversation lasted barely fifteen minutes, but it was enough to let me know that the noose was tightening. A woman had come forward—the babysitter. She was an illegal, which explained the long delay. Though she had glimpsed me quickly, the description she provided matched the bartender’s. He did not recall my name but had overheard the part of our conversation in which she confessed her crush on me, using the phrase “a lot of the girls did.” This led them to Nicole’s college transcript and eventually to me, who bore a remarkable resemblance to the sitter’s description of the suspect. A very remarkable resemblance.

I made the customary denials. No, I had never been to the bar in question. No, I did not recall the girl from my classes; I had seen the story in the papers but had made no connection. No, I could not recall my whereabouts that night. When, exactly? Probably I was in bed.

“Interesting. In bed, you say?”

“Perhaps I was reading. I’m a bit of an insomniac. I really don’t recall.”

“That’s strange. Because according to the TSA, you were scheduled to be on a flight to Athens. Any thoughts on that you’d care to share at this point, Dr. Fanning?”

The cold sweat of the criminal dampened my palms. Of course they would know this. How could I have been so dumb?

“Very well,” I said, doing my best to seem annoyed. “I wish this hadn’t had to come out, but since you insist on prying into my personal life, I was going away with a friend. A married friend.”

A single eyebrow lasciviously lifted. “Care to tell us her name?”

My mind was racing. Could they connect us? I’d paid for the tickets in cash and bought them separately to cover our tracks. Our seats weren’t even next to each other’s; I’d planned to sort it out before we boarded.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. It’s not my place.”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Detective Reynaldo smiled imperiously, enjoying herself. “A gentleman who runs off with another man’s wife. Doubt you’ll win any prizes for that.”

“I don’t claim to, Detective.”

“So why didn’t you go?”

I gave my most innocent shrug. “She changed her mind. Her husband is a colleague of mine. It was a stupid idea to begin with. That’s really all there is to it.”

For ten full seconds neither of us spoke—a gap I was obviously meant to fill, incriminating myself.

“Well, that’s all for now, Dr. Fanning. Thank you for taking time out of your busy day.” She gave me her card. “You think of anything else, you call me, all right?”

“I’ll do that, Detective.”

“And I do mean anything.”

I waited thirty minutes to make sure they were well clear of the building, then took the subway home. How long did I have? Days? Hours? How much paperwork did they need to get me into a lineup?

I could think of only one option. I called Jonas’s office, then his cell, but got no answer. I would have to risk an email.

Jonas—I’ve given some thought to your proposal. Sorry it took me so long. Not sure how much I can offer at this late date, but I’d like to sign on. When do you leave?—TF

I waited at my computer, hitting the Refresh button over and over. Thirty minutes later his reply came.

Delighted. We leave in three days. Have already cleared your visa with State. Don’t ever say I’m not a man with connections. How many more do you need for your team? Knowing you, you’ll bring a flotilla of attractive female grad assistants, which we could sure use to brighten up the place.

Move your ass, buddy. We’re going to change the world.—JL

* * *

23

There is not much more to say. I went. I was infected. Of those infected, I alone survived. And thus was built a race to establish dominion over the earth.

There was a night when Jonas came to see me in my chamber. This was long after my transformation, by which time I had adjusted to my circumstances. I could not know what the hour was, such things having lost all meaning in my captive state. My plans were well under way. I and my co-conspirators had identified the avenue of our escape. The weak-minded men who watched over us: day by day we had infiltrated their thoughts, filling their minds with our black dreams, bringing them into the fold. Their flabby souls were collapsing; soon they would be ours.

His voice came over the speaker: “Tim, it’s Jonas.”

This was not his first visit. Many was the time I had seen his face behind the glass. Yet he had not addressed me directly since the day of my awakening. The last years had wrought startling changes to his appearance. Long-haired, wild-bearded, crazed-eyed, he had become the very image of the mad scientist I had always thought him to be.

“I know you can’t talk. Hell, I’m not even sure you can understand me.”