“Beamis Biohazard -Infectious Waste,” it read.

The room was empty except for that one container on the wall. And it pissed Alex off. He didn’t know why. It just did.

So he stared at it for a few minutes, enjoying the gritty feel of his anger and the control it gave him.

See, I can do this. I can make this work. Then, whammo. Liz again.

He slumped back against the wall and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He couldn’t stop seeing Liz as he had last seen her- collapsed and lifeless inside that damn tube.

He jumped up and started pacing. Then he stopped himself and held out a hand.

No, I’m not pacing. Pacing is a sign of nervousness. And I’m not nervous. He began walking again.

Alex is not nervous. No, see- Alex is in control.

He paused.

There were steps outside the door, coming closer. He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. He moved around the room jerkily and stopped when his mind processed the fact that there was absolutely, positively no place to hide- which he already knew.

Alex grinned out of sheer lunacy. And he kept the delirious smile on his face as the door slid open. It wasn’t like he had a prayer, anyway.

“Ah, Mr. Whitman, you’re looking well,” said the middle-aged, squinty-eyed, balding lab coat who walked in the room with a clipboard as though this were a clinic and not a chop shop.

Alex‘s smile became strained. “And you’re looking particularly healthy yourself. But then, you weren’t shot, abducted, beaten and forced to endure a chemical drowning, now, were you?” Alex made sure his voice was light. He was in control, of at least that much.

The coat wasn’t phased in the least. He just pulled out a pen and started writing. “Oh, have our accommodations been less than satisfactory? I’ll have to let Dr. Garrett know.” He looked up with a mocking grin. “If the scrubs are chafing you, we could always dispense with clothing entirely.”

“No!“ Alex couldn’t help his severe reaction. Man, this guy was yanking his chain. He tried to play it off. “I’ve grown rather attached to them, despite their general roominess.”

The coat smirked. “Okay, we’ll let you keep them, for now. My name is Clive.”

“Ohhhh, like the herb. Didn‘t they name a dip after you?” Alex walked over to the bench and sat down, moving as though he weren‘t afraid at all.

“Not chive, you imbecile,” Clive pointed out tersely. “It’s Clive. Clive Danner.”

Oooo. Found a sore spot. Alex just nodded and filed that piece of information away as Clive continued.

“And, you little piss-off, I’m the best friend you got in this place right now.”

Alex looked at him steadily. “You know, Clive, actually, that‘s not true.”

“Ah,” Clive said loudly. “Then, I guess you must be wondering how your little alien tripe is holding up,” he said in a casual voice.

Alex tried not to react. They knew Liz had been transformed.

Clive was walking over to the wall where he slid a small key into an even smaller hole. Alex squinted. He hadn’t even noticed it. “Yeah, sure. I was wondering.”

“Then feast your eyes on this,” the man turned an enigmatic smile his way. The dark eyes were cold and Alex felt whispers of fear brush his mind. He swallowed hard.

The wall in front of him wasn’t as plain as it appeared. One section grayed, then turned clear to reveal a room down below. A white room, filled with instruments, lights and people in scrubs.

Alex forced himself to walk to the window slowly, the horror of what he was seeing immediately making him ill. Below them, Liz was strapped to an operating table, obviously still naked under the blue sheet covering her torso. She was unconscious, for which Alex was intensely thankful for, because there were multiple points of entry all over her body. Some were slices, some were patches of removed skin. Blood was gathering in pools all over her body.

“DAMMIT!” Alex slammed his hands against the glass, helpless again. The surgeon was working now on her hip, digging into her with so much force that his arm was trembling. Could she even SURVIVE that?

Alex sucked in a deep breath and tightened his lips as he fought for control. As the wall went opaque again, he hated himself for feeling relief in among the horror and hatred.

“So, any questions?”

Alex stayed facing the wall, schooling his emotions. “Yeah. What the hell are they doing? Using her to train the Future Butchers of America?“

“Every single incision you see on her body is there for a reason,” Clive sounded serious suddenly. “Do you have any idea what your friend is?”

“No,” Alex said forcefully as he turned to look him in the eye. “I do know who she is, though. And I know that she shouldn’t be here going through this hell just because you have some whacked-out idea that she‘s a...”

“A hybrid,” Clive suggested helpfully.

“Not the word I was going to use,” Alex got out somehow, even though his mind was reeling. She was a hybrid?

“You obviously have no idea of the significance of the discovery of Liz Parker. She’s the proof we’ve been looking for ever since that spaceship landed in ‘47. Proof of the reason they came.”

“You lost me, Clyde.”

“Clive.”

“Right. Look, she had absolutely nothing to do with something that may or may not have happened over fifty years ago.”

Clive was shaking his head. “Don’t even try it. We have more evidence than anyone would ever need to prove what she is. She’s a hybrid- half-alien, half-human. And she’s proof that they’re not the peaceful race that our commander-in-chief insists that they are.”

Alex’s eyebrows shot up and Clive continued. “What, you don’t think the President knows about the aliens living in his country, and more to the point, about this operation? It’s called ‘plausible deniability,’ my little friend. He knows just little enough to deny everything.”

“To deny what, Claude?”

“Dammit, that’s Clive!”

“Alright,” Alex said easily. “Cliiiive. Deny what?”

“That the fifties comic books were right on target,” he spat out with fire in his squinty eyes. “That ‘War of the Worlds‘ was almost a documentary. That they‘re here to take over our planet.”

Alex nodded. “And exactly how does slicing and dicing an eighteen-year-old girl prove that?”

“An eighteen-year-old hybrid,” Clive insisted. “She proves it by simply existing. Their DNA can take over our bodies, turn us into to one of them. How long do you think it will take to conquer a planet that is already riddled with hybrids, mixed breeds who have their powers and loyalty to their cause.”

Oh god. Alex could suddenly see why the Feds had panicked. “You couldn’t be more wrong-”

“Well, regardless of what you think,” Clive interrupted and held his hand up to quiet Alex. “You’re going to help us prove our theory.”

Alex had a sinking feeling. “How?”

“Ever wanted to have super powers, Alex? Ever wanted to find out what it would be like to be an alien? Surely you’ve wondered, spending so much time with Max and Isabel Evans.” Clive was watching his reaction, waiting for a reply.

Alex clenched his jaw and forced back the desperation that sprang up within him. They knew about Isabel.

They knew everything.

“You see, we need to find out how they did it. How they took a normal human and turned her into a pod person, for lack of a better term.”

“Uh... how about extra-terrestrial? How about Visitor? How about friend?”

Clive dismissed his words with a gesture. “We’ve got our own theory of how it was done and we’re just dying to try it ourselves. Or, rather,” Clive looked over at Alex with a grin. “You’ll be dying to try it out for us. Or... maybe you’ll survive.”

Alex swallowed hard. But this wasn’t the first time he’d faced down the big “d.” Just because all odds were against him didn’t mean sh*t. Not with friends like his. “Oh, I’ll survive. It’s you I’m concerned about."

Clive just smiled indulgently as he stuck his pen back in his pocket. “Just get comfortable, I’ll be back with Dr. Agbayani and we’ll get this show on the road.”

“Uh, Chive?” Alex grinned as the lab coat stiffened and slowly turned to face him. “Oh, sorry. Clive, I have just one more question for you.”

Clive was quiet a moment, assessing him. “Shoot. It may be your last chance.”

Alex looked away. “You ever seen death before?” He swung his gaze back.

Clive raised his eyebrows patronizingly. “No, I don’t think I‘ve had the pleasure.”

Alex nodded and walked back over to the wall that held the blanked out observation window. The room was silent around him. He played the moment like a six-figure lawyer standing before a stacked jury on the biggest case of his life. “Keep an eye out for him. You’ll be seeing him soon.“

“Oh really?“ Clive sounded bored.

“Yeah,“ Alex turned on a dime. “He’s about six feet tall, black hair... brown eyes. Goes by the name of Max Evans.”

The other man’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t consider Max to be a threat. We know exactly how to deal with his kind. You forget, we have been for years.”

Alex had to smile shakily, unable to push down the anger and pain that accompanied his words. “You obviously have no idea what he can do to you. I mean, I don’t even know all the things he can do to you.”

Clive blinked.

Alex held his gaze evenly. “But I do know this, if he gets one whiff of what you‘re putting the love of his life through,” pointing to the wall where he’d just seen Liz. “you might as well call the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Because you will be dying soon- you and everyone else in this hellhole.”

Clive turned and hit the buzzer beside the door. After a tense silence, the door sprang open with a loud click.