ou’ve been sick?” Karsten blanched. “Describe your symptoms.”

He moved one yellow-sneakered foot in my direction. A growl from Coop drove him back into his chair.

“What are you experiencing?” He studied me like a bug on a pin. “Tell me! Leave nothing out.”

No one spoke.

“I’m the only one who can help you,” Karsten pleaded. “You must believe me. I never meant to harm anyone. You know how hard I tried to maintain security.”

Right,” Hi snorted. “Try changing the default code next time.”

“Default? What? That code was supposed to be randomly generated!”

Ignoring him, I looked a question at the others.

“How can we trust him?” Shelton was skittish.

Karsten answered. “You’re infected with a dangerous variant of parvovirus.” He held up his hands. “What I did was stupid. I admit it. We’re past that now. We need to make sure your lives aren’t at risk.”

Shelton still looked dubious. I couldn’t read Hi or Ben.

Fingers steepled, Karsten spoke in a lecturing tone.

“Tory guessed correctly. I inserted DNA from canine parvovirus into the genetic code for B19. I was searching for a mechanism to weaken the canine form.”

Karsten looked from face to face.

“I’ll never know if the approach would have been successful. I destroyed the new strain immediately after the dog was stolen. The paperwork, too.”

“Why destroy it?” I asked.

“Testing indicated the virus might have the potential to infect humans. I hadn’t followed proper protocols. When I lost containment, I panicked. My credentials were at stake.”

“Your credentials!?!” Hi exploded.

“Let me make this right!” Karsten practically begged.

“Let’s tell him,” Ben said.

A beat, then Hi and Shelton nodded.

I told Karsten about the blackouts. The nausea. The fatigue. The chills and sweats. All of it. His shoulders drooped more with each new detail.

“The blackouts have passed?” Karsten asked when I finished.

“Yes,” we said.

“The flu-like symptoms? Gone as well?”

Nods all around.

Karsten let out a breath. Relieved.

I changed that.

“There are side effects.”

“Side effects?”

“We call it flaring.”

I explained the powers. How our senses would expand, our perceptions sharpen. The flashes of strength and speed. The glowing golden eyes.

Karsten almost slipped from his chair. We managed to catch him.

“Amazing.” Karsten’s head wagged from side to side. “Amazing,” he repeated.

“Okay, doc,” Hi said. “We’re amazing. But what do we do?”

“Can you call on these abilities at will?”

“No,” I said. “The flares come and go randomly.”

“Probably not,” Karsten said. “From your descriptions, the episodes seem to be triggered by strong sensory input. And by stress.”

“What does that mean?” Shelton asked.

“I believe your powers are activated by stimulation of the limbic portion of your brains.”

“Meaning?” Ben asked.

“Neuro-anatomy is very complicated.” Dismissive.

“So am I.”

Recognizing the menace in Ben’s voice, Karsten paused to organize his thoughts.

“The limbic system contains a structure called the hypothalamus, which regulates the autonomic nervous system via hormone production and release. The ANS affects heart rate, digestion, respiration, salivation, perspiration, pupil diameter, among other things.”

“So?” Ben asked.

“I suspect the virus altered your DNA. I think that alteration caused a change in how your brains work.”

My heart leapt to my throat.

Karsten continued, oblivious to the anxiety his words were creating.

“Instances of great stress set off hormonal reactions within the human body,” he explained. “That’s normal. But for you there seems to be a whole new level. When threatened or frightened, you experience sensory and physical capabilities consistent with the natural abilities of wolves.” Karsten swallowed. “Somehow, my hybrid strain of parvovirus inserted canine DNA into your genetic blueprint.”

Silence filled the room. An unearthly stillness that floated up from the bunker’s subterranean passages, and rolled in from the sky, the sea, and the dunes. Our hearts hammered in unison.

When able, I spoke with what voice I could muster.

“Can you cure us?”

“I don’t know,” Karsten said quietly. “But you have my word. I will never stop trying.”

Suddenly, Coop growled, low and menacing.

I moved between the dog and Karsten. Coop ignored me. His eyes were again locked on the bunker’s entrance.

“What’s up, boy?”

Coop’s head whipped to me, back to the opening. His ears were flat, his muscles tense as steel. He barked three times, loud, aggressive.

Everyone froze.

Voices drifted in from outside.

Lots of them.