The next morning, Jacob Hunt sighed, checking the clock. His shift had already started, though he had barely slept a few hours.
He had stayed up late talking with Georg and Anton, who had finally been able to go in to see Joseph. The latter remained unconscious, having not opened his eyes since the last time he was awake.
Hunt was in his office, a narrow room illuminated by cold white light. He sat in front of the main computer.
The screen blinked with a new notification: Priority Mail – Central Lab of Biogenetic Analysis.
The message also arrived at his Inmo, which vibrated, alerting him that the result of the requested DNA study was ready.
"Finally..." he murmured.
He opened the email.
Genetic Analysis Report – 202122 Sample Origin: Unidentified biological tissue. Results:
Human DNA: 52%
Canis lupus DNA: 48%
Anomalous molecular interaction: Evidence of active cellular symbiosis. Conclusion: Hybrid structure impossible according to known genetic bases.
Hunt remained staring at the screen without blinking.
"This... this is madness," he whispered.
The words of the late Mr. Martínez resonated in his head: "Werewolf... in the woods..."
Suddenly, he felt a pang in his stomach. The memory of the mangled body, the blood. Everything spun in his head.
It cannot happen. It is impossible, he thought, trying to cling to logic.
Suddenly, the hand holding the mouse began to tremble; he struggled to scroll down to see the full document.
At the bottom of the email, an additional message blinked in red:
Sender: Center for Applied Biology Note: "Doctor Hunt, could you confirm the origin of the sample? The composition is unusual. Does it come from an experimental subject created in a lab?"
Hunt swallowed hard. He typed a quick reply:
"The sample belongs to an experimental synthetic DNA set archived years ago. Case closed. No current activity. —Dr. Jacob Hunt."
He lied. He knew he couldn't reveal that the substance came from the body of the victim of that attack.
He leaned back against the chair, breathing deeply to relieve his dizziness. In a quick motion, he took out of his pocket the small card Agent Carter had given him. The printed number shone faintly under the light.
Just at that moment, the door opened.
"Doctor, here is your coffee." It was Manuela Díaz, the nurse, who as always was found with a kind smile.
Hunt put away the card quickly and turned toward her, forcing a smile.
"Thanks, dear. I needed it."
"Are you okay, Doctor? You look very pale."
Hunt let out a brief laugh.
"Just lack of sleep... and of good coffee. I was up all night."
"For your friend, right?"
"Yes," he replied with a slight nod.
"Don't worry, Doctor. Surely he will recover," she said, leaving the cup on the desk. "Well, I'll take my leave. If you need me, I'll be in the trauma room."
Hunt nodded.
As soon as Manuela left, Hunt used his Inmo to contact the number on the card.
"The results are in," he said in a low voice.
11:05 a.m.
The wind moved the dry leaves. Hunt was leaning against his Chevrolet Silverado 3500HD, smoking, with a brown folder in his hand. Facing a park far from the hospital, that place was completely deserted; not even a homeless person passed by there. The park was too far from the city center.
He looked at his watch with annoyance.
"It's already eleven..." he murmured. "He said he would be here at this time."
Hunt hated unpunctual people.
A black car, a Dodge Charger SRT, stopped a few meters away. Two men got out. One, in a dark suit and white shirt, stayed leaning on the car. The other, in a black shirt and the same shade of suit, walked toward Hunt with a firm step.
It was Agent Carter, who, as was his custom, displayed his credentials with highlighted letters: Agent 21.
"You took long to arrive, Agent," said Hunt, extinguishing his cigar.
"Apologies, Doctor. Traffic," replied Carter with a half-smile, leaning on Hunt's car without asking permission.
Hunt looked at him with disgust.
"I asked for permission for this meeting, so I hope it is worth it, Agent Carter."
"What did the results yield?"
Hunt handed him the folder. Carter opened it, leafed through a few pages, and his lips tensed.
"I see... so it was true," he said finally. "Damn."
"Did that attack Martínez?" asked Hunt, trying to keep his voice steady.
Carter looked at him, but didn't answer.
"Good job, Doctor Hunt. Perhaps we won't contact you again."
"Wait, what?"
"Delete all the files, do not archive copies, and do not mention anything in reports."
"Mr. Martínez, before dying, said he saw a werewolf in the forest. What did he mean by that, Agent?" demanded Hunt, raising his voice a little. "And the victim's family? Won't they even know what attacked him?"
"There is no need. For them and for the media... it was a bear," said Carter with bad humor, lowering his gaze and tensing his jaw.
Hunt clenched his fists.
"Was it perhaps an experiment of yours? The government's?"
Carter turned his head slowly; his look became sharp.
"You are asking unnecessary questions, Doctor."
Carter took a step toward Hunt, while pushing aside his jacket a little, revealing his holster. Hunt backed away by reflex; his heart accelerated.
"I don't want this to end badly, Doctor..."
"Wait, let's not be hasty," interrupted Hunt with a trembling voice. "Besides, is an F.Y.D. agent going to kill a doctor in broad daylight?"
"Just don't make unnecessary questions, Doctor. It is better that you forget what happened and continue with your normal life. Forget... or we will make you forget."
"I'm sorry, I can't forget that something like that is loose and can hurt more people," replied Hunt, looking around. The scene was perfect: there were no witnesses, not a single soul. He knew that if he answered wrong, he would die without a coherent reason.
"Really? What a pity. Come with us, please, we will take a walk, Doctor," said Carter while quickly grabbing Hunt's arm with force.
"You are afraid of it getting out, aren't you?" said Hunt with a trembling voice. "And what if I told you, Agent, that if I don't return home today, someone will upload the detailed DNA document? Including the link to Mr. Martínez's accident... and mentioning the F.Y.D. as the main culprit."
Carter observed him with a mixture of annoyance and surprise.
"You knew this would happen, right, Doctor?" he told him, while squeezing the doctor's arm tightly, so much so that he let out a sound of discomfort.
"I don't trust agents dressed in black..." whispered Hunt, his voice broken.
Carter released his arm and sighed.
"Do you believe you have nothing to lose, Doctor?"
"I don't."
"Jacob Hunt, orphan of father and mother, raised in the San Bosque orphanage, without relatives... but, do these names ring a bell? Anton Marsol, young engineer; Georg Konrad; and Joseph Marsol, who is in the General Hospital due to an accident. I hope they are well, right, Doctor?"
For Hunt, the world froze for an instant: the cloudy sky, the wind, the crunch of the moving leaves. He could feel it all with a terrible clarity; he hadn't been conscious that his friends could get hurt because of him.
"They have nothing to do with this," said Hunt while clenching his teeth.
"Relax, Doctor, we won't harm them, unless you push us to that... I don't have time for games."
"Please, don't do anything to me or to them," begged Hunt.
"I won't, I don't want anyone to reach such an extreme, Doctor," replied Carter. "Tell me, what do you want? Money?"
"None of that. I just want to know why you can't reveal the truth. If you do, we could avoid future deaths."
Carter looked at him fixedly.
"Do you want riots to form, Doctor? That is what will happen if that comes to light. It will bring nothing but problems and blood, and those are among the things I detest most. I don't want people to get hurt by this whole situation, it isn't fair. I understand you, Doctor, but with this, you would condemn Sarac little by little."
Hunt remained mute.
"Revealing the truth condemns no one. On the contrary, we could save them," argued Hunt.
"Do you really believe that?" retorted Carter. "If it were known that such a creature exists, the panic would destroy trust in the F.Y.D. and the government. There would be riots, even a coup d'état. And if that information reached the ears of our enemies? What would they think?"
Hunt understood.
"They would believe Sarac is developing a biological weapon..."
"Exactly. And then they would attack us out of fear or for power. The peace of Sarac would fall."
"But... the truth and the people deserve to know it."
"Maybe. But peace holds itself up on half-truths. Perhaps, someday, it will be revealed. But now is not the time."
Carter took a step back, observing Hunt's downcast eyes.
"So, Doctor... are you willing to risk everyone to save a few, or to save everyone by condemning a few?"
Hunt swallowed hard.
"The information... will not be revealed. This never happened. Neither did the files," he said, lowering his gaze while his fists tensed.
Carter smiled sideways.
"Good, Doctor. Thank you for your discretion. Perhaps I will contact you again."
Hunt limited himself to nodding.
Carter walked away toward the black car with the folder under his arm.
Hunt remained motionless, leaning against his vehicle, looking at the cigar on the ground; he didn't even remember having dropped it... and observed as the cold wind carried it away.