The First

Chapter 4

Dr. Alexa Mason rolled over to find the other side of her bed empty...again. She sat up and dangled her feet over the side of the bed. The blue satin slippers sat in their usual spot, perfectly parallel to each other, exactly one pace from the bed. She stretched, stepped into her slippers and shuffled into the bathroom. 

She had never cared for trinkets littering the shelves and countertops. They made the place look unkempt. Since her husband's death from cancer a year earlier, there weren't any shavings scattered about the counter. No goatee hair clippings in the sink. No half-squeezed bottle of toothpaste. She loved and hated the cleanliness. Scattered pictures of the family hung in the hall and living room. Their wedding pictures above the hearth constantly reminded her of what she'd lost. Pictures of their sixteen-year-old daughter Teagan, along with various awards, decorated the cherry oak china hutch in the study. The house décor was simple and logical, just how she liked it. 

After she brushed her teeth, she disrobed and stepped into the steam-filled shower. Warm water flowed over her porcelain skin. Colleagues had labeled her 'the Vampire of Room 119', her lab at the university. With the highest I.Q. in the building, she had plenty of ups and downs. Yes, she could refute papers written by other doctors. No, it didn't make her any friends. And no, she would not go to a tanning salon, however many times they asked. Being a natural blonde with fair skin did not define her. She'd never had to bleach her hair and certainly would not bow to the whims of her co-workers. 

With her morning routine finished, she put on her gray suit and headed out the door. Teagan had stayed at her best friend, Ellie's house the night before because Alexa would not take to the streets with her daughter dressed like a cat in an effort to swindle people out of candy. Frankly, she thought Teagan too old for the pagan rituals of Allhallows Eve, but her friends had wanted to go and she would have never heard the end of it if she didn't let her. 

Alexa's charcoal Volvo sat in the near side of the four-car garage, sparkling from the detail work she'd had completed on it the day before. The cell phone in her purse chimed three times; if she didn't get on the road in the next five minutes, she'd be late for work. 

Most days she drove to work in silence, but as the traffic was a bit congested, she listened to the traffic report on the radio. A jackknifed semi had brought 405 East into Portland to a standstill. She'd have to take the back roads up to the university, something she didn't do on a regular basis as it made her nearly twenty minutes late for work and she abhorred that. 

As Head of Genetics Research at Oregon Health Sciences University, going on ten years, she had grown quite infamous in her work. She generally kept a low profile. The fact that she'd been the youngest woman ever to graduate from the university also added to her notoriety. 

Her earliest memories all had something to do with her becoming a doctor one day. When she played the game with the little boy next door he'd been sorely disappointed all she wanted to do was listen to his heart and count his breaths. 

"Officials at Salem Hospital are tight lipped regarding the details surrounding last night's grisly tragedy but Channel Five News has learned similar events have occurred in hospitals across the United States. Law enforcement is baffled. An inside source at the hospital said at least ten people are presumed dead." 

"Oh, my word." Alexa sifted through the plethora of radio station news on her in-dash satellite radio. Each had little or no concrete reporting. Some of the events had taken place in maternity wards or the emergency rooms. In each instance, multiple people were injured or killed. 

In the thirty minutes it took for her to arrive at the office, she heard droves of news reports with detailed gruesome incidents. But not only at hospitals: birthing centers, homes, backs of ambulances and one movie theater where the slaughter of sixteen people rocked the small town of Bangor, Maine. 

She pulled into her parking space and took a moment to let the information sink in. Wow! She'd never seen or read anything this horrific in her entire life. Times like these made her glad she never went into politics. 

The constant in the equation surrounding each of these particular incidents had to do with childbirth. This was one puzzle she'd love to put together. 

When she opened the door, it bumped against Dr. Silverman's silver Mercedes Benz. Its alarm wailed through the parking garage. She didn't make a clumsy mistake like that. The news had shaken her up more than she thought. 

Minutes passed and security didn't arrive, not even to turn the alarm off. 

They must be busy. 

Gunfire clacked somewhere nearby. Not close enough to have to take cover, but near enough for her to give the parking garage a good once-over before continuing into the building. 

Yep, they're busy. 

Briefcase in hand, she proceeded to her lab on the fifth floor of the science building. Various people hustled about the entrance and the commotion didn't stop when she got off of the elevator. Her colleagues and other people she didn't know...men wearing suits littered the usually empty business area. Nobody had been told not to come to work, a huge oversight by the hospital administrators. They could have at least closed the labs. 

Two men walked toward her, swift with purpose. She only recognized one of them. "Dr. Mason." Dr. Jackson greeted her with a handshake. 

"What can I help you with, Dr. Jackson?" His sweat-filled palm slimed against hers. She discreetly wiped it against her pant leg. 

Dr. Henry Jackson had the biggest head and the skinniest body of anyone she'd ever seen. It reminded her of the bobbleheads her assistant Justin kept on his desk. The senior professor's pristine mannerisms and neat attire gave one the impression he might be British. He even spoke in an old world way, though, she was pretty sure he came from Philadelphia. 

"I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting Agent Harris from the F.B.I." He emphasized the acronym. 

She took the agent's outstretched hand; a different handshake experience altogether. The man stood at least six-foot-four. Perfect black hair speckled with some gray stopped in a thick widow's peak. Thick black eyebrows shrouded his large brown eyes, which scanned her with fervor. Muscles threatening to tear his perfectly pressed suit rounded off his smoldering looks. She caught a glimpse of a gun in its shoulder holster under his suit jacket as he retracted his hand. 

"Agent Harris is with the task force assigned to fossick out this mess." 

"You mean figure out what's going on with the newborns." She smiled. 

Harris cocked an eyebrow. "They say you're the best in the business. This true?" 

She reciprocated with a glare. Who does this schmuck think he is? He should have at least done his homework to see who he's going to be working with. Two minutes in and she'd already decided she didn't like the guy. 

"Come with us, Dr. Mason. I've got something I need to show you." Dr. Jackson led them to the conference room.

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