Part 2Biohazard: The Christmas Betrayal

The crowd murmured. Doubt was spreading like the virus Mark claimed was loose.

"He's right... there are a dozen people on the night shift we can't reach."

"If she sealed the doors, they're trapped."

"My God, a Level 4 breach kills in hours."

Before I could speak, the sound of rushing footsteps echoed from the entrance.

The families.

Many lived in the nearby company housing. They had heard the rumors.

"What is going on?!" a woman screamed. "Why isn't my husband picking up his phone?"

"Is there a leak? Is my son inside?"

An elderly woman grabbed the arm of a junior researcher. "Please, tell me the truth. Is it safe?"

"We... we don't know," the researcher stammered, looking at the ominous warning tape. "It might be critical..."

A wail of pure anguish pierced the air.

People tried to rush the tape. Security guards held them back, struggling against the tide of desperate relatives.

"Let me in! My wife is in there!"

It was chaos.

Mark watched the scene, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. He turned on me, raising his voice to be heard over the sobbing.

"Sarah! Look at this! Are you still going to deny it? If you hadn't messed with the pressure valves, none of this would be happening!"

The families froze. Slowly, they turned their heads toward me.

The elderly woman who had been asking questions let go of the researcher and grabbed me. Her hands were shaking.

"Director Sarah... is it true? Did you kill my son?"

I supported her trembling frame. "Ma'am, it wasn't me. I swear, I didn't do this."

That’s when Chloe stepped out from the crowd. She put on her best 'concerned citizen' face.

"Sarah... please stop lying," she sobbed softly. "I saw you running out of the lab at 8:00 AM when I was bringing Mark his breakfast. You looked so guilty. I know work is stressful, but... these are human lives!"

Mark nodded vigorously. "Exactly! The digital logs confirm it. Only Sarah's ID badge was used at 8:00 AM. There is no other suspect!"

It was a perfect pincer movement.

Just like last time. They riled up the crowd until logic didn't matter anymore. Last time, the grief-stricken families beat me to death before I could utter a complete sentence.

I saw the hatred kindling in their eyes. They began to close in, forming a tight, suffocating circle.

Mark seized the moment. Smack!

He slapped me across the face.

"You incompetent bitch! It wasn't enough to screw up the experiment? You had to cover it up? These people are patriots! They are fathers, mothers, sons!"

"How do you sleep at night? Do you hear their screams?"

"Look at these families, Sarah! Look at them!"

He was conducting them like an orchestra of rage.

"You murderer!" a mother screamed, shoving me hard.

"My son praised you! He trusted you! You monster!"

"My dad promised he'd be home for Christmas dinner!"

"Die! You should just die!"

They were on me. Hands clawing, fists flying. I fell to the linoleum floor. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and fury.

Mark stood back, looking righteous.

"Confess, Sarah! Even I won't protect you. You need to pay for this with your life!"

I curled into a ball, protecting my head.

Just as a boot was about to connect with my ribs, a booming voice echoed through the lobby.

"POLICE! EVERYBODY BACK UP!"