Waters looked over the group and then threw his eyes to a fourth person who stood off to the side.
"And this gentleman?"
The gentleman did not wait to be spoken for. Despite suffering from what appeared to be extreme exhaustion, he stepped forward and spoke with an air of authority, something he had lost during the night but found again with the rise of dawn and the arrival of what appeared to be reinforcements.
"I am Agent Frank Costa of the American Secret Service. Who are you people, and have you gained control of this island?"
Waters smiled and — using his cane for support — stepped closer to the agent while the woman under his employ provided more information.
"Agent Costa here emerged from the forest in response to our calls. He says he was part of the security detail for United States Senator Kendal."
Costa repeated, "I need answers. What is the situation and who are you?"
"Agent Costa, my name is Dr. Waters. The island remains dangerous but we have the situation under control. Tioga was subject to a biological attack, the nature of which I am not at liberty to discuss. However, we have protocols in place to deal with the situation."
The tall man in the cargo shorts with the young companion added his voice to the discussion, a voice that also carried an air of authority.
"The man asked who you are. Well? Who are you people?"
Waters looked to the new voice and his watery eyes expanded as a smile grew on his lips.
"William Fencer? That is you, isn't it? The software developer."
The man nodded.
"You are one of the owners of Tioga Island."
"Yes, I am. So why are you on my island, who are you, and what do you know about what happened here? I believe several people have died."
Costa held his hand up and argued, "Sir, let me handle this. I am a representative of the United States government."
"This isn't the United States," the software guru shot back. "This is my property."
Waters absolutely loved the confrontation; it was like watching two bulls in a ring. Or, more precisely, two sheep in a pen with dreams of being rams. Nonetheless, like everything else on Tioga Island, the exchange provided a fascinating spectacle.
Costa's voice grew louder and he tried to ignore Fencer as he asked, "Dr. Waters, exactly which organization are you with?"
"Agent Costa, my people are here to help. I can promise you that I will answer all your questions, but I would rather do so without, well, an audience," he said, and nodded his head toward the trio gathered outside the maintenance hut. This was Waters's way of adding to the fun. Costa took the hint for what it was meant to convey: this is too important for anyone other than you to hear.
"Understood," Costa replied. "I need to contact my government."
"That can be arranged. But first, I need to know if you have been bitten or scratched by any of the infected individuals."
The woman in the bio suit answered for Costa, "We looked him over, Doctor. He has suffered scrapes and bruises but no sign of a bite."
"I'm fine," Costa added. "I must insist."
"Yes, yes of course," Waters said, and ordered one of his men, "Escort Agent Costa to the airfield and place him on flight number two."
Two of the armed men did as instructed, leading Costa to the Jeep belonging to team six and driving off. After the vehicle disappeared from sight, Waters turned to the remaining survivors.
Clearly Fencer did not enjoy playing second fiddle, particularly not on his personal multimillion-dollar island, where he was accustomed to being king, even if he had locked himself in a shed while his subjects had been attacked and transformed.
"Dr. Waters, I demand an explanation."
"Of course. First, have you been bitten?"
Fencer looked to his companion, who shook her head no. Indeed, neither of the two appeared in bad shape, other than wrinkled clothes, tired eyes, and the stench of having not showered in quite a long time.
Fencer answered, "no," with a little hesitation in his voice, no doubt recalling an act or two of self-preservation over the last day and a half, the type of things that might paint him as something other than the tough-as-nails businessman with the heart of gold portrayed in his press clippings.
"Good."
The young lady nodded toward the woman in the jogging outfit and said, "But Miss Clemons was bitten last night."
"Was she now?"
Waters walked over to the older woman, who trembled and shivered but did not respond, at least not verbally. Her eyes remained brown, and they watched Waters approach.
"Is she going to be okay?" the young woman asked.
Waters assured, "We'll take care of her. Don't you worry," and he motioned to his female assistant, who, with the help of another armed man, placed the injured Miss Clemons in the back of Waters's vehicle.
"What about us?" Fencer asked. "Have we been exposed to anything dangerous?"
"Yes, yes, in fact you have."
"Oh my god," the girl said. "Oh my god!"
The assistant returned from the car carrying a small case.
"It's okay," Waters said. "We have the situation under control. I'm going to have to give you each a small injection."
"What kind of injection?" Fencer wanted to know.
Waters accepted a needle from his assistant before changing the conversation: "Tell me something, how did the infection spread on the island? When did you first notice a problem?"
"I am, well, I can't remember. Let me think," Fencer said, and considered. "Yesterday morning we were at breakfast at the Beach Club. One of the guests, um, let me think—"
"Oh!" His young companion burst out. "It was Mr. Burgess, that accountant guy."
Fencer corrected, "Chief financial officer for one of the major banks, actually. In any case, he was clearly in bad shape. He sort of stumbled toward the veranda and then took a bite out of a waiter. The staff tried to intercede but that's when we saw several more people who were, well, apparently infected, as you say."
"It was disgusting."
"Yes my dear," Waters comforted. "I'm sure it was. Tell me something. Did anyone try to fight them off?"
"Of course," Fencer answered in a strong tone that quickly modulated. "Well, admittedly most people ran. The things weren't very fast but they were damned persistent, and there were so many of them."
"That's why you hid, I suppose?"
"Yes, of course. Of course we hid. What are you implying?"
"Nothing, Mr. Fencer. Tell me, were there weapons on the island? Was there any effective defense against the units?"
"Units?"
"Pardon me. That's a medicinal term. I mean the infected persons, of course."
The young lady told Waters, "We heard some gunshots early on."
"Probably Constable Alapai. He kept a pistol in his office. We did not want weapons on this island. It's meant to be a retreat from the world of violence. A refuge."
"I understand," Waters said and approached with the needle. "Now, young lady, let me see your arm."
She hesitated and then presented her right arm for his inspection. Waters tapped in search of a vein and then stuck the needle in. As he depressed the plunger a clear liquid emptied from the syringe into her arm.
"What, again, are you injecting us with?"
For the second time Waters turned the question in another direction.
"So you develop software, Mr. Fencer. You know, you and I have a lot in common. Let me see your arm, please."
Fencer looked to his girlfriend, who still rubbed the spot where she had been stuck. Clearly the needle had upset her. More tears started to form in the corners of her eyes, where all manner of tears had poured forth during the night.
Perhaps because of her pain, Fencer bared his arm bravely. Waters accepted a second syringe from his assistant.
"When you're developing your programs, you go through several, oh, versions. This program two point one or two point two and so on."