Stanton held out the car window. The gates opened and a robotlike voice told them to drive ahead. Jim watched the two security guards march back and forth on the catwalk above their heads. The compound was entirely surrounded by an eight-foot fence that was topped with barbed wire, similar to fences on military bases. Dr. Stanton stopped the station wagon in front of a long white building with a sign across the front that said FOLSOM NATIONAL LABORATORIES—JEFFERSON KINCAID, PRESIDENT. Jim’s parents were jabbering away about what a wonderful facility it was and how lucky Dr. Stanton was to be working here, but Jim wasn’t paying any attention. Now more than ever he was convinced that something odd was going on in Folsum and that it was about to involve his family in some way. He tried to take mental notes on everything as they walked down the hall, attempting to find anything that seemed out of place. His father explained that the area they were in was the lab’s own private medical complex.
