Chapter 393

When Bruce arrived, he saw only a dozen or so injured people lying on the ground. However, Natalie was nowhere to be found.

Among the dozen or so people, most were police officers; the rest were late-night food stall owners who had rushed over to help when they sensed something was wrong.

Bruce’s expression turned grim. “Take them away. Quarantine them.” Then, without hesitation, he jumped back into the car and sped toward the town exit.

But Bruce wasn’t the only one after Natalie. The investor behind the Immortality Project—who had finally achieved a hard-won breakthrough—wasn’t about to let his prized test subject escape now that success was within reach.

Meanwhile, the investor’s men were chasing a police car. Inside that car, Natalie slammed her foot down on the gas. It had been 40 straight minutes of weaving through dark country roads, but she finally broke back into the city.

At 11 PM, the streets of Horington weren’t exactly packed, but there was still a steady stream of cars coming and going.

Natalie glanced in the rearview mirror. There had only been one car chasing her. Now, two more had joined the pursuit.

‘There’s no way I’m going back,’ Natalie swore in her heart. ‘If I end up back on that cold operating table, I might not make it out alive. Guess I’m the lucky one.’

Bruce slammed the gas in his black sports car. He swerved left, overtaking the vehicle ahead in a blur. The white car beside him, seeing this, recklessly swerved to block him, turning the chase into a deadly showdown.

There were no cops on the street at this hour. After a tense standoff at an intersection, the black sports car collided with the white police car. Then, a small truck came barreling in, triggering a multi-vehicle pileup.

The police car vanished without a trace.

Bruce shoved open his door and climbed out, with blood dripping down his arm from a gash where glass had cut through. A fresh bump was swelling on his forehead from the impact of colliding with the steering wheel.

But he didn’t flinch. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it with steady hands, and leaned against the wreck. Smoke curled in the cold air as he stared into the distance sharply.

About 15 minutes later, the ambulance arrived, and the paramedics led Bruce into the ambulance.

The next morning rolled in, and a brand new day began. The temperature had dropped overnight, and a cold front had settled across the city.

Shermaine sat outside a small street vendor, working through a bowl of steaming ravioli soup. A sleek black Bluetooth earbud hung on her ear, and Joshua’s voice crackled through the line. “It’s getting cold. Layer up, will you?”

“Mm, don’t just worry about me. Make sure you keep warm too,” she said.

“Any progress on the virus?” Joshua asked.

Shermaine said calmly, “Most likely, the virus is man-made. I’ve compiled a list of suspicious labs and will check them out after breakfast.”

Shermaine suspected it was a man-made virus because firstly, the homeless man mentioned by the patient had visited the infection site, but when they checked, all the surveillance cameras were faulty and the footage from that day went missing too.

There were too many coincidences. And that homeless man vanished without a trace. Unless someone was deliberately hiding him, Shermaine could not think of another reason why they were unable to track him down.

While Shermaine ate, the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall in front of her played the morning news. The top story was a multi-car pileup from the night before.

“Be careful,” Joshua said with concern. “I’ve arranged an assistant for you. He’s a top med school graduate, physically capable and professionally trained. He should arrive in Horington in about two hours.” Even with these precautions, Joshua still couldn’t fully relax, knowing how risky Shermaine’s job was.

“Got it,” Shermaine said casually. “Tell him to contact me directly when he arrives.”

The flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall across from Shermaine. As she reached for a tissue and looked up, she caught sight of a familiar figure at the scene of last night’s car accident. Narrowing her gaze, she realized it was Bruce.

‘What’s Bruce doing in Horington?’ Shermaine wondered.

At first, the news wasn’t getting much traction, but once the footage of Bruce, injured and smoking beside his wrecked black sports car hit the internet, he instantly went viral and topped Twitter’s trending list.

His striking looks alone made him the center of attention. But not even half an hour later, the post had been mysteriously wiped from the charts.

Shermaine knew it wouldn’t be hard to dig up why Bruce was in town, but poking into someone’s whereabouts without a solid reason didn’t sit right with her, especially when they weren’t even close. So, she decided to let it go.

“I’m done eating,” she said, wiping her mouth and speaking into the earpiece. “I’m hanging up.”

“Mm, I’ll miss you,” Joshua said.

Shermaine’s lips curved into a smile. “Let’s go on a date when I’m done here.”

They didn’t get to do that much–barely ever, actually. But lately, Shermaine had been thinking maybe it was time they tried being like a normal couple for once. Dates were supposed to be exciting, heart-skipping, even.

Joshua gulped. “I’ll plan something.”

Shermaine moved quickly. Of the five labs she’d flagged for possible illegal activity, she only had to visit one before she got a lead. It pointed her straight to Consla Laboratory—the one most likely running illegal experiments.

In this line of work, word had gotten around, especially when it came to Consla Laboratory. Their operations had always been brazen, but with deep-pocketed investors backing them, most people in the field just turned a blind eye and kept their mouths shut.

When she arrived at Consla Laboratory, she saw the aftermath of a fire. The flames were out, but thick plumes of acrid smoke still hung heavily in the air, their pungent odor clawing at her throat the longer she breathed them in.

Shermaine took a surgical mask and a sample case from the car, put on the mask, and headed straight inside.

Most of the place had been destroyed by the fire, but Shermaine still managed to collect some remaining samples to bring back for analysis to determine if the virus originated from here.

After about half an hour, Shermaine had gathered enough samples and was about to leave with the small case when a shadow suddenly loomed behind her. Instinctively, she spun around and delivered a sharp roundhouse kick.

A shrill, miserable scream rang out. The other party collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain.

Shermaine walked over. The man was dressed in white, with a shaved head and numerous needle marks on his arms. His face was deathly pale, and he was barely conscious as he mumbled weakly, “H–help me.”

Shermaine pressed her hand to his forehead. He was burning hot. He was running a fever.

“Are you a test subject from Consla Laboratory?” Shermaine asked.

He nodded weakly. He hadn’t escaped far last night and just found a place to hide nearby. When dawn came, he woke up feeling wretched and had been enduring it ever since.

Shermaine asked, “How many test subjects like you were there in the lab?”

“A–A lot…” he whispered in a trembling voice.

Shermaine pressed. “Where are they now?”

The man shook his head weakly. “N–no… I don’t know,” he mumbled. “But last night, a lot of the other test subjects escaped.”

Upon hearing this, Shermaine’s gaze dimmed. Their escape meant the risk of ordinary people getting infected had skyrocketed. Because once the test subjects fell ill, they would lose all rationality and become violent.

Seeing he was about to pass out, Shermaine said, “I’ll bring the car over. Wait here.” Carrying the case, she headed outside.

As she reached her car, a van suddenly pulled up. Several thugs jumped out, and one of them shouted, “Drop what you’re holding and get out of here, or you’ll regret it.”