Found You - James B. Barnes

8. Dearest Charlotte

Shield Science Research Facility, New York City - February, 1956

Well, I lied slightly. John Milson didn't die the moment I injected him. That was only to infect him with the bacteria Dr. Zola and his team have been working on. After 3 days, he reported to me that his urine was foamy, a clear indicator of protein in the urine. His kidneys were already deteriorating. A few hours later he grew excessively drowsy and his legs and feet swelled.

The next afternoon he was vomiting and having difficulty breathing. He slowly grew delirious, that's when I stopped hiding the notes I was taking on his death.

He swore at me until his voice became hoarse. Shouting at anyone nearby of how quickly Hydra will turn it's back on you. I silently agreed.

Two hours later, John Milson's life was drawing to a close. I offered my hand, but he refused, calling out to Beatrice. I don't know who Beatrice is, a lover? Or perhaps his sister? Someone important enough that John wished for his last moments to be of her.

He stilled, his eyes unfocused, staring at the ceiling. I reached for his hand and he did not resist. I pressed my fingers against the inside of his wrist, but he remained silent.

I checked my watch, 7:38 pm.

A tear began to well in my eyes, but I could not allow myself to show weakness here. Dr. Zola would find out before I could leave the building. I am Nancy Sadler. I dap my eye with the back of my sleeve.

I wrote down the time of death in my notes and reported the conclusion of the experiment to Dr. Zola.

In the following four months, I studied day and night. Dr. Zola quizzed me mercilessly, but I learnt. I am now officially Dr. Sadler.

I stand a little taller, a very light spring in my step. A higher rank allows me to enter Dr. Zola's circle and I can work with him directly.

The bacteria is successful in causing complete kidney failure, resulting in death. It works by being drunk in water, or injected directly into the bloodstream, then it makes its way to the kidneys to be filtered out. However, it remains there and prevents the kidneys from filtering effectively. Eventually stopping the filtering process at all. All it needs is refining.

I have been working with Dr. Keller, testing how fast the bacteria grows and reproduces. Unfortunately, Dr. Keller doesn't particularly like the fact that I have only been here for six months. He has clearly expressed that I should be at a low level lab.

"Not like that! Miss Sadler, allow me to handle the specimen." He exclaims, hands darting out to grab the Petri dish from my hands. I allow him to take it, if I resisted, the glass may drop, shattering and allowing the inevitable cuts to infect someone.

"Dr. Keller," I begin, Nancy's smile stretching across my face tightly. "I am fully capable of examining the specimen without causing injury." I allow my tone to be condescending.

"Also, my name is Doctor Sadler." I remind him, my smile spreading in a false sense of care.

"I have decades of experience, so I will handle the specimen." He replies, returning my condescending manner. "You can assist me if you wish." Annoyance slipping in.

I decide to grin and bear it. I can't risk causing waves, drawing attention to myself to gain Dr. Zola's trust is one thing, but trying to change things gets you killed. So I gracefully fell to the role of Dr. Keller's lab assistant for an afternoon.

I check my watch, 6:07 pm. Our work for today is complete, disappointing to some degree. Our hopes were much higher than reality, so we will need to find a way to adjust the bacteria.

Once I return to my home, the one I have lived in for the last six months, I pass the doorman who hands me my post.

"It's to your door, but it's for an Edward, no last name." He tells me, gesturing to the letter on the top of the pile. I recognise the hand writing.

"That's my brother's name, my mother always mixes up our addresses." I reply, a light chuckle feigning from my lips.

I try to keep my steps at a calm pace, but I can't bear to wait any longer. I have to read this letter. I swing open the door to my flat and rush over to my record player. I set a vinyl down, the sounds of Glenn Miller filling the room.

Now with the cover of music, I slice open the letter in one movement. Scrambling against the paper to read it.

Dear Edward,

I write to ask of your wellbeing. I have not heard from you in many months and I have begun to grow worried. How goes life in the new city? Have you met anyone new? All is to be expected here, although Kibble has found himself promoted. All went well with putting your old things into storage, they will be here when you return. I hope you return soon in good health.

Yours truly

Charlotte

I let out a small chuckle, then I allow it to grow into a whole hearted laugh. How much I have missed hearing from Charlie, my dearest friend. We haven't been in contact for 6 months, I hadn't even found a way to let him know I'm alive. I pay special attention to the mention of my things in storage, I know this must mean the files in Daniel's basement. He was packing them into his car the last time we spoke.

I find some paper and a pen and begin to write my reply.

Dearest Charlotte,

I am quite well, everything is so difficult here, but I am managing to adjust. I have somehow impressed my new boss, I am already claiming the ladder. Yes, I am making some new friends, not as many as I would like though. Our office keeps to itself most of the time. I fear that I will not return soon, there is so much for me to learn here. I will always keep you updated. I found some wonderful music scores the other day and I thought of you, I have enclosed them in this letter.

Yours truly

Edward

The music scores are actually the files I have been making on the members of Hydra I have met. The music notes can be decoded to reveal the information. I remember how Charlie showed me how to use it, his mother forced him to play piano when he was young. He found a way to make it seem like he was practicing piano, but he was actually practicing coding.

I seal the letter and take it down to the doorman, asking him to post it in the morning.

As I settle down with a cup of tea, listening to my music, I allow myself to be Edith again. Just for a few hours, I can pretend that everything is absolutely, perfectly alright. The moon shines in the sky and I tuck myself into bed.

I switch off the light and close my eyes, as I drift off the sleep, all I see is John Milson's glassy, dead eyes.