CHAPTER 3

The Barnard Helix Institute was a monument to modern science as it stood tall and powerful in the early morning light.

Violet's hands tightened on the steering wheel as she pulled into the underground parking garage, her heart pounding against her ribs.

The lab was nearly empty when she arrived, her footsteps echoing through the sterile hallways. She swiped her badge at the entrance to Lab Seven and stepped inside, breathing in the familiar scent of disinfectant and recycled air.

This was where it would happen. Three weeks from now, in Sub-Level Three, the containment would fail.

Violet shrugged on her white lab coat and pulled on gloves. Her hands were steadier than they had any right to be.

She moved through the lab like a ghost, pulling up files on her workstation, accessing the LZ-7 research data that Harrison had locked behind seven layers of security clearance.

She knew the passwords because she had helped create half of them.

The virus structure bloomed across her screen in rotating 3D models. It was such a beautiful and terrible thing that rewrote living cells at the genetic level.

It had been designed to repair degenerative tissue and to cure diseases that had plagued humanity for centuries.

Instead, it turned people into monsters.

Violet's fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up suppression sequences, stabilizers and anything else that might counteract the mutation process.

If she could find a way to neutralize it, to render it inert before the breach…

The lab door hissed open behind her.

"Morning, Dr. Ackland." Dr. Maxwell Carlin's cheerful voice cut through her concentration. He was a round-faced man in his forties with kind eyes and a perpetual coffee stain on his collar.

In three weeks, he would be the first to die. His throat would be torn out by the very virus he had spent years researching.

"Morning." Violet managed, her voice tight.

More scientists trickled in over the next hour. Dr. Stella Eden, young and brilliant with her dark skin and bright smile. Maxwell's assistant, Dennis Peterson, who always brought donuts on Fridays.

Dr. Roderick Stewart, who told terrible jokes and kept a photo of his grandchildren on his desk. All of them would die screaming.

Violet watched them settle into their routines, laughing and chatting over coffee, and something in her chest broke. She couldn't just sit here and watch them walk toward their deaths. She just couldn't.

"Everyone," Violet said suddenly, standing up. Her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "Everyone, I need you to listen to me."

The conversations died and seven pairs of eyes turned toward her with varying degrees of curiosity and confusion.

"What's up, Violet?" Stella asked, setting down her coffee mug.

Violet took a deep breath. This was insane. They would never believe her, but she had to try.

"Three weeks from now," She said clearly, "On March twenty-fourth at 2:47 PM, the LZ-7 Strain is going to break containment. It's going to escape from Sub-Level Three and spread through the entire building, then the city and then the world."

Everyone stared at her in confusion while Dr. Stewart let out a nervous laugh. "That's quite specific."

"The virus will mutate anyone infected and kill those that are not strong enough," Violet continued, her voice gaining strength.

"It will turn the infected into something mindless and violent. They'll attack anything living. Bites and scratches spread the infection further. Within days, civilization will collapse and within weeks, most of humanity will be dead or transformed."

Maxwell frowned, concern creasing his features. "Violet, are you feeling alright? Did you find a flaw in the containment protocols?"

"How do you know this?" Stella asked, standing up slowly. "What aren't you telling us?"

Violet met her eyes. Kind eyes that would go glassy and dead in three weeks.

"I know because I've lived through it. I died in the outbreak, and somehow I woke up three weeks in the past. I've been reborn. I have been given a second chance to stop this."

For a heartbeat, no one moved or spoke, then Dennis started laughing. "Reborn? Seriously?"

"Come on, Violet," Dr. Stewart said, his smile uncertain. "That's not funny."

"I'm not joking," Violet's hands clenched at her sides. "I know how it sounds. I know it's impossible, but I'm telling you the truth. The LZ-7 Strain is unstable. The containment will fail, and when it does, everyone in this building will die within hours."

"This is ridiculous." Dennis muttered, shaking his head.

"Violet, maybe you should take the day off," Maxwell said gently, like he was talking to someone fragile, who might lose it at any moment. "You've been working a lot of late nights. The stress might be getting to you."

"It's not stress!" Violet's voice cracked. "I watched all of you die. I watched the world end. Maxwell, you were the first. You stumbled out of Sub-Level Three with blood pouring from your neck, and you were dead within minutes."

Maxwell went pale instantly.

"That's enough." A voice cut through the lab harshly.

Violet turned to see Alicia Matthews standing in the doorway, her glossy auburn hair perfectly styled and her blue eyes sharp with malice. How long had she been there? How much had she heard?

"Alicia." Violet said flatly.

"Dr. Ackland," Alicia said with exaggerated formality, stepping into the lab. Her heels clicked against the floor with each step. "I couldn't help but overhear your little presentation. Tell me, when exactly did you lose your mind?"

"I haven't lost anything." Violet said through gritted teeth.

"No?" Alicia's smile was poison-sweet. "You're spouting absolute nonsense about time travel and apocalypses. You sound like someone who belongs in a padded room, not a research facility."

"I'm trying to save lives." Violet managed as her hand clenched into fists by her sides.

"You're trying to sabotage this company," Alicia's voice hardened, her mask of sweetness dropping away.

"Project Lazarus is our most important research. It's worth billions, and here you are, spreading panic and lies, trying to shut it down because of some delusional fantasy."

"It's not a fantasy!"

"You claimed you were reborn," Alicia said, her voice dripping with mockery. She turned to the other scientists, playing to her audience.

"She actually stood here and told you she died and came back from the future. Does that sound like someone mentally stable enough to work in a high-security research lab?"

Violet saw the shift happen in real-time. The other scientists' expressions changed from concern to suspicion. They slowly stepped back, putting distance between themselves and her.

"I think HR needs to know about this," Dennis said quietly.

"I think a psychiatric evaluation might be necessary." Stella added, not meeting Violet's eyes.

"I'm telling you the truth," Violet said desperately. "Please. You have to believe me. In three weeks…"

"In three weeks, Project Lazarus will make history," Alicia interrupted smoothly, stepping closer to Violet and whispering in her ear.

"And you won't be here to see it if you keep this up. We should get you locked up in a facility. Maybe Harrison was right to keep you hidden all these years. God knows what clients would think if they knew his wife was unstable."

Violet's breath caught in her throat as her body trembled slightly.

Alicia's smile widened. She had drawn blood, and she knew it.

"Everyone here works too hard to entertain your delusions. If you can't handle the pressure, maybe it's time to find a new career. I'm sure there are plenty of asylums hiring."

She turned on her heel and walked out, leaving a wake of silence behind her.

No one spoke or looked at Violet. One by one, they returned to their workstations, their movements stiff and uncomfortable. The easy camaraderie from earlier had evaporated, replaced by tense whispers and sidelong glances.

Violet stood frozen in the middle of the lab, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She had completely and catastrophically failed.

By noon, everyone in the institute knew that Dr. Violet Ackland had lost her mind.

The whispers followed her everywhere, through the hallways, in the cafeteria and past the break rooms where conversations died the moment she approached.

Did you hear what she said?

She thinks she's from the future.

Reborn. Can you believe it?

She should be locked up in a mental facility. She is crazy.

Violet buried herself in her workstation, pulling up the LZ-7 data again, trying to focus on finding a reversal sequence, but her hands shook too badly.

Her vision kept blurring and every suppression sequence she tested failed. Every stabilizer she designed fell apart under simulation.

The virus was too complex and too aggressive. It rewrote cells faster than she could counteract them.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't stop it alone.

By four PM, she wanted to cry and by five, she felt like her skull was going to crack open from the pressure building inside it.

She needed air and space. She needed to get out of this lab before she actually did lose her mind.

Violet stumbled out into the hallway, ignoring the way people stepped aside as she passed. She made her way to the emergency stairwell, the one that led up to the roof access.

Almost no one used it. She could breathe and think there.

She pushed through the heavy door and started climbing, her footsteps echoing in the concrete shaft. Up and up until her legs burned and her lungs ached.

Finally, she reached the roof level landing. The door was propped open slightly, letting in a sliver of grey afternoon light and cool air.

Violet pushed through it and stopped. Someone was already there. A tall figure standing near the edge of the landing, silhouetted against the industrial lighting.

He had dark messy hair, and broad shoulders. She could see a thin scar cutting through his left eyebrow from his side profile.

Jude Barnard.