He was under a blanket in the back seat. He expected they would arrive at the pill plant within fifteen minutes. “We’re getting low on gas,” Toby said from behind the wheel. “Is it safe for me to come out?” Dawson asked. “Hold on, Lieutenant,” Toby said. The car swerved, sped up, and then swerved again. A crescendo of shouts from outside the car rose and faded. “All good.” Dawson sat up and peered through the front and side windows, recognizing a former fitness center. At one point, kids had probably used it as a shelter, but the windows were now broken, and it was empty. “We’re almost there. Another two miles. Keep your eye out for the water tower. It should be that way.” After pointing, he concealed himself under the blanket again. “Why did the scientist use a brewery?” Toby asked. “Apparently, brewing beer and making antibiotics both require a fermentation process,”
