The voice cut off abruptly, interrupted by another burst of static. One of the men grabbed the walkie-talkie off his belt and jerked the door open, peering up and down the corridor outside. “This is twelve. Say again.” Nothing but static greeted him. He turned to stare at Dr. Wagner, as if searching for an answer. “Stay here. Phillips, come with me,” he added. Barely glancing at the other guard to see if he was complying with the order, he strode into the corridor. “Hold on a minute!” Wagner shouted even as the men dashed out the door. “You can’t leave us unarmed!” “What should we do?” Johnson demanded anxiously. Wagner stared at him a long moment. “Nothing,” he responded finally. “I’m sure they’ll have everything under control in a few minutes. Did you get the syringe ready?” “You want to proceed?” Johnson demanded, obviously outraged that Wagner could even consider going on as if the facility weren’t under attack. “You’d prefer to cower in one corner?”
