Patient Zero: A Sex Magic Short

Patient Zero
G. F. Savidge

After we’d passed through the third set of locked and bolted, six-inch steel blast doors, I reckoned the General and I were a good quarter mile inside the mountain.

“Isn’t this overkill?” I asked. “What the hell kind of thing are you keeping in here?”

The General’s expression became even more humorless. “It’s a woman and it’s not overkill. If it were up to me, we’d have disposed of her months ago.” He spat on the white-painted concrete floor of the tunnel. “They want to see if she can be weaponized.”

The final set of doors opened into a large room: a combination laboratory and prison. A jumbled collection of every type of scanner I was familiar with, and more than a few I wasn’t, was arrayed around a Plexiglas cell shot through with metal wires. Soldiers stood on guard, technicians and scientists manned their stations or scurried too and fro. Without exception, they were all women. The General and I were the only men in the room.

The prisoner was an attractive young woman in her early to mid-twenties. Without makeup, dressed in a shapeless jumpsuit, it took a few moments to recognize her.

“Mandi McClure? Your dangerous prisoner is a swimsuit model?”