Beatrice and I cleared the office and got everyone to the emergency room ASAP. There, I greased a couple palms and called in a few favors to get their blood work expedited. We'd find out if she and her colleagues had radiation poisoning within the hour.

  Outside the emergency room, Beatrice looked anxious, but it wasn't about her blood work.

  "Shit," she said, looking at her phone.

  "What's up?" I asked, just having stepped outside to check on her. She was the only Quantum Futures employee not in the waiting room.

  "Remember how I said that I've been having a lot of my employees call out sick the past week?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I've been trying to call them since we cleared the building, and none of them have answered or called me back."

  "Someone should probably check on them," I said. "If you give me their deets I can snoop around and make sure they're okay."

  She looked at me, and considered my offer for a moment.

  "I'd like to come along if you don't mind. I want to make sure they're okay myself."

  "I wouldn't mind having someone with an inside scoop on the case tagging along, but are you sure? It could be dangerous."

  "I'm sure. Besides, something tells me the safest place to be right now is right next to you."

  I chuckled.

  "I'm glad you feel that way. Well. If you're happy to tag along, I'm happy to have you."

  Just then a woman in scrubs came out of the ER's waiting room.

  "Results are back Mr. Alvarez, white cell counts look fine. Radiation sickness seems unlikely."

  "Thanks, appreciate the assistance doc," I said, bowing my head at the woman. The woman returned my bow and left. I turned my attention back to Beatrice. "Looks like you and your co-workers are in the clear."

  "At least the ones that felt fine enough to show up for work."

  "Unless any of your colleagues have been spending extra time around Peabody, then I'm sure radiation sickness isn't what's wrong with them."

  She raised an eyebrow at that.

  "You think Peabody was carrying radioactive material on him while he was working with us?"

  "More like he was the radioactive material."

  "Excuse me?" Her eyes were wide.

  "Come on, I'll tell you on the way."

  Beatrice followed me to my car, and once we were on the road, I gave her what I had on John Peabody.

  "Far as my people can tell," I started, "Peabody has been a radioactive disaster since even before he was born."

  "How... how is that even possible?"

  I shrugged.

  "We don't know, but here's what we do. He was born to Kent and Anya Peabody in ninety-two, both of which died of cancer when he was only seven years old. Testicular and Ovarian respectively."

  "Huh..." she exhaled.

  "After that it's a long trail of bodies, usually in batches. Several foster parents, a few foster siblings, and more than a few classmates. After he got out of the foster system the bodies stopped piling up. At least for a while."

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Your people were able to piece all that together in a week?"

  "That's the funny thing. We've been researching these odd cancer deaths for a while. We were just about to call you guys about him when you called us instead."

  "That's... convenient."

  "For Peabody, yeah. A little too convenient."

  Beatrice didn't say anything for a while, so I tried asking her again about her missing colleagues.

  "Beatrice--."

  "Bea," she said. "If we're going to be spending any time together, you can call me Bea."

  "Bea then," I said. "What I wanted to ask earlier. Of the colleagues that haven't shown up to work, would you say that they tended to be the ones that spent the most time with Peabody?"

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shake her head.

  "No, actually I was second in charge, so if anything, I was the one he spent the most time with."

  "That's what I was worried about..."

  "Why?" she asked, but just as the words left her lips, I heard her take a sharp breath. "I'm the one that spent the most time with him... If I'm not sick..."

  "Then the others shouldn't be either, not from radiation sickness anyways. It could still be a really bad flu. I'm hoping it is, but I just have this feeling..."

  "Yeah," she said, then snapped: "Over here, turn left."

  I did as she instructed, turning into a residential neighborhood. Following that, she had me make a few more turns until we were in front of a large house. There was a small electric car in the drive way, which meant that whoever lived there should have been home.

  "This is the place," she said. "Mara Smith's home. She was the first of my co-workers to message me that she wasn't going to be able to come in this week."

  "She texted you?"

  Beatrice, seeming to come to the same realization as me, shot me a quick glance.

  "Shit."

  "Yeah..." feeling it appropriate, I excused myself, and reached over Beatrice to get to the glove compartment.

  "Whoa," she let out, seeing what I had pulled out.

  It was a pistol that appeared to be wrapped in an alien sky. It was obsidian black, and appeared to twinkle with strange purple stars. Starry Night, the Excalibur to my Arthur.

  "Special issue," I said, grinning as I got out of the car.

  Approaching the house, Beatrice called her Colleague.

  We stood at the door, waiting for someone to either answer the door, or answer the call.

  "Nothing," she said.

  "Car's in the driveway. This is officially a wellness check."

  Beatrice nodded.

  I tried the door knob. It was locked, but I made swift work of it with my picks, which earned me a look from Beatrice. I just smiled and opened the door.

  "Anyone home?" I called.

  "Mara? It's Beatrice, from work, we're just here to make sure you're safe."

  We each took a few tentative steps further inside.

  "Mara?" Beatrice called again.

  Beatrice pulled out her phone and called her Colleague again. A buzz started coming from the living room. Somewhere on the floor it seemed.

  Shit.

  I approached the living room, and as I did, my Geiger counter began to tick.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I readied my weapon, not sure what to expect.

  Can bullets even hurt this guy? I started to wonder. Would I even have time to shoot if he got the jump on me?

  My heart thumped loudly in my ears as I turned the corner where the buzzing was coming from.

  The only thing waiting for me around the corner was the phone, buzzing on the floor.

  My Geiger counter, which had grown louder, and ticked more frequently once I entered the living room, petered out as I approached the phone.

  I heard Beatrice behind me, and the buzzing stopped.

  "That's her phone," said Beatrice.

  I nodded.

  "Yep, and..." I said, playing a game of hot and cold with Geiger counter. "It looks like Peabody was here. Can't say how recently, but it seems he was waiting in her living room."

  The Geiger counter ticked loudest around the seat of one of the couches. A seat which would have allowed Peabody to see the driveway through the gaps in the blinds.

  "We should take a look around, make sure your co-worker really isn't here."

  Beatrice nodded.

  We found no trace of the woman, but the odd photo here and there confirmed that-- like all of Beatrice's other co-workers --she bore a strong resemblance to Beatrice herself.

  "She's really not here," said Beatrice beginning to hyperventilate. "Her phone is, but she isn't. Fuck."

  "Bea?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Are you okay?"

  "No."

  A more than fair reaction.

  "We should check on your other colleagues. Make sure they're all safe and sound."

  Once her shock settled down, and her breathing had returned to normal, Beatrice, possibly despite herself, agreed to continue tagging along my investigation.