Reviving Dade: Project DEEP, #3

By Becca Jameson

Blair has the perfect cushy assignment.

Protect Dade while he recovers from ten years in a cryostat.

In a remote hidden cabin.

With plenty of supplies.

And nothing but time.

But time is Dade's number one enemy.

And Blair can't seem to maintain her badass persona around him.

He's breaking down her walls.

She's working her ass off to convince him life is worth living.

A mole in the government would rather see him dead.

An experimental treatment could save him. One he isn't willing to try.

Even when they're arguing, the chemistry between them is palpable.

But now is not the time for romance.

Now is the time to fight for his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Becca Jameson Publishing
• Release date: Nov 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9781946911360

Becca Jameson

Becca Jameson is the best-selling author of the Wolf Masters series and The Fight Club series. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and two kids. With almost 50 books written, she has dabbled in a variety of genres, ranging from paranormal to BDSM. When she isn’t writing, she can be found jogging with her dog, scrapbooking, or cooking. She doesn’t sleep much, and she loves to talk to fans, so feel free to contact her through e-mail, Facebook, or her website. …where Aphas dominate.

Book preview

Chapter 1

"The Notebook? Are you serious?" Blair stared at Emily hard, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. Chick flicks were not her thing, especially not sappy ones. But Emily was the one who’d missed out on over ten years’ worth of movies, so Blair wasn’t about to say a word. If her friend wanted to spend the evening crying over Nicholas Sparks, Blair would endure it.

Emily giggled as she opened the fridge. Hey, I read the book, but I never got to see the movie.

I’m pretty sure it’s older than ten years, Blair pointed out, as she took a beer from Emily’s hand and shoved her hip off the counter.

Do you think I had a lot of free time in the few years before I was preserved? Emily asked.

She had a point. Before she’d been cryonically preserved for the past ten years, she had spent several years buried in this bunker working for the government on Project DEEP (Disease & Epidemic Eradication & Prevention). The final disease she had been studying, frantically working toward a cure, had also been the one to land her, twenty other team members, and General Winston Custodio in cryostats. Thanks to a freak lab accident, AP12, a fatal viral form of anemia, infected everyone in the medical wing.

Considering the work ethic you’ve demonstrated since I met you, I’m going to say probably not, Blair replied. Emily worked night and day.

So did her boyfriend, Ryan Anand, who was currently sitting at the kitchen table on the other side of the room with his head buried in his computer and his brow furrowed. Both of them were as dedicated to their work as any human Blair had ever met.

In fact, it must be an affliction all these medical researchers suffered from because both of Ryan’s parents had been reanimated in the last few months too, and they were equally dedicated workhorses.

Emily held a soda in her hand as she plopped down on the couch. I’m not sure you’re actually allowed to drink beer while you watch Nicholas Sparks, but I’ll let it slide, she joked.

I’m not sure you’re allowed to watch anything while sitting this close to the television, Blair returned, also teasing. Ryan and Emily lived inside the bunker in one of the new suites that were built a few years ago to house the full-time employees. The living room area was incredibly tight.

Fuck, Ryan suddenly shouted. He followed that by launching his pen at the wall and then shoving his chair back. Hand threaded in his hair, he turned toward them. His face was red.

Emily jumped up from the couch, set her soda on the coffee table, and faced Ryan. What happened?

Blair’s teeth were on edge. She’d known Ryan for a long time, and she’d never seen him lose his cool. Not once. Something he was working on had seriously pissed him off.

His chest rose and fell with every breath.

Ryan? Emily said, her voice lower. She had known Ryan for six months, ever since she had been the first person to be reanimated from the original Project DEEP team.

He released his hair to run a hand down his face. We have a problem.

What is it? Emily asked.

Blair felt out of place, as if she shouldn’t be here. But it couldn’t be helped. She would feel even more awkward about easing out of the suite.

We can’t give Dade the cure. His shoulders fell as he spoke.

Dade Menke was scheduled to come out of his coma the next day. After four weeks in the reanimation chamber, each patient then spent four weeks in an induced coma to allow their organs to fully rejuvenate before they were awakened.

Blair knew a great deal of the details. Assigned to security detail at this bunker for the last seven years, she was as informed as possible about what the team of medical researchers did at the facility.

Emily eased across the room and set a hand on Ryan’s arm. Why not?

He’s got the genetic marker for aplastic anemia 2. I can’t believe I didn’t see this in his charts before now.

Oh, no. Ryan, I’m so sorry.

Blair couldn’t keep herself from asking questions. She had no idea what they were talking about, but it had to be bad. What does that mean?

Emily turned around. Aplastic anemia is when the bone marrow stops producing enough blood cells. Unfortunately there have been several instances in the last year when patients were given the treatment for AP12 only to have it jumpstart latent aplastic anemia they didn’t even know they carried. AA2 is a mutation of the common form.

So you can’t give him the cure for AP12 because it will kill him?

Basically, Ryan stated. Dammit. The guy is thirty-five years old. He’s just spent ten years suspended in time. I can’t believe when he wakes up tomorrow, I have to tell him he’s still going to die.

Emily wiped her eyes as she headed across the room to grab a tissue. She would be the one in the room to take this the hardest. Dade had been her coworker. Blair hadn’t been there ten years ago. And Ryan, who had dedicated his entire life to finding a cure and putting together a new team to reanimate the first team, was only twenty when everyone was preserved.

Project DEEP has been working on a cure for AA2 for months now. Maybe… Emily’s voice wavered.

Blair could only surmise that most likely Emily was grasping at straws. Blair knew next to nothing about medical research, but she was smart enough to realize it took years to find a cure for any disease. Dade wouldn’t have that kind of time.

Even though she had never met the guy and she hadn’t even seen pictures of him, her heart seized to hear his age. She too was thirty-five. She couldn’t imagine someone coming to her tomorrow to tell her they had the cure for her first fatal disease but injecting it would give her another equally fatal disease.

Emily’s voice was soft when she asked her next question. How much time do you think he might have if you don’t give him the AP12 cure and instead work against the symptoms?

I don’t know. We’ve proven that the total blood replacement he received a month ago will buy him time. It worked for you. But in your case, we only waited three weeks. There’s no way to know when you would have developed AP12 symptoms. And when we reanimated my parents, we gave them the treatment immediately. He pulled his chair back to the table and pushed it in.

Blair hated seeing him this defeated. Emily too. What a blow to their research.

Ryan closed his computer and picked it up. I’m going to go work in the lab. You two enjoy your movie. He kissed Emily on the cheek and left the suite.

There was no way in the world they could sit and watch a sad movie after that revelation, but Blair took her seat anyway. Emily would need a friend.

The two of them had met only five months ago when Blair was assigned to Emily’s protection for one day, but they had bonded and formed a friendship that would last a lifetime.

After a few minutes of silence, Emily sat up straighter. The media will have a field day with this. Shit. Plus, the rest of the reanimations could be compromised if he dies. The government might force us to slow down to be certain every member will survive. She slapped her forehead with her palm.

Blair cringed. Can we keep the media from finding out, at least?

Emily chuckled wryly. Sure. Like we kept them from finding out about me and then Tushar and Trish. How long did that last? All of twenty-four hours? The vultures are just waiting for a mistake.

Chapter 2

Two weeks later…

---

Dade’s head was pounding as he held the data in front of him with shaky hands.

I’ve gone over it a dozen times. I’ve also redone your bloodwork several times. I might not have even noticed the mutated genes if I hadn’t seen the same thing in every patient who didn’t survive the treatment for AP12. Ryan’s voice trailed off.

Dade lifted his gaze to meet Emily’s where she stood on his other side, one hand on his shoulder. He’d never seen a single living being look quite that sorrowful. Of course, he also hadn’t looked in a mirror yet.

After dropping the papers on his lap, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He’d been up walking enough times to get his ass out of this hospital bed and get stronger, but suddenly he didn’t have the will anymore.

Something had felt off from the moment Dade awoke two weeks ago. Ryan Anand had been his primary daily visitor, and although he spoke often of the project and updated Dade on its progress, he had also held something back.

Dade had felt the omission in the air every day. People failed to make eye contact with him. They glanced away. Their lips were pursed. Sometimes they looked too sad or didn’t say enough.

He’d been too chicken to ask for specifics yet. All his concentration had been focused on getting his ass out of the hospital bed as his strength increased in small increments. Apparently, he was right on target with the first three people to be reanimated. It took time. At least that’s what he’d been told.

Now he knew why the air got sucked out of the room every time someone visited.

Dade still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that the person in charge of this new team was Tushar and Trish’s son. The kid he’d met only a few times a decade ago was now a medical professional only five years younger than himself.

Emily looked the same. He couldn’t wait to get reacquainted with Tushar and Trish if they ever returned from some ranch in Montana where they were hiding from the piranhas.

With each breath, his chest rose and fell, lifting the papers on his torso. Not giving a single fuck what anyone thought, he flicked the data onto the floor.

Emily and Ryan at least had the grace not to flinch or comment.

I’m so sorry, Ryan finally said. I’m working around the clock to come up with a way…

Emily sounded like she was going to cry every time she spoke, and he didn’t remember her being emotional a decade ago. Ten years—that seemed like last week. Let’s not lose hope, okay? We don’t know how long the blood replacement will buy you. Maybe it will be much longer than we imagine.

Lose hope? Dade asked sarcastically. Sure. Okay. I just spent ten years in hibernation like a bear only to wake up and learn that it was all for nothing.

A tear ran down Emily’s face, and he felt bad for being an ass, but he needed to remind himself this wasn’t about her.

He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes again. He was full of shit. He’d done very little but sleep so far since awakening two weeks ago. The first week, he’d needed it badly. The second week, he was using the excuse to hide. Hide from himself and everyone else.

This damn bunker used to be his home. It was his life blood. Now, it felt like a death chamber. He knew from multiple conversations with General Temple Levenson—the same woman who had been in charge of the project ten years ago—that the situation out in the real world was not pleasant.

Apparently religious zealots and the media were camped out at the gate in large numbers, hoping to catch a glimpse of the freaks who were being reanimated inside. Even though Dade had yet to see the show, their presence made him nervous.

Ryan sighed. I don’t mean to sound overly optimistic, but we have some options.

Dade blew out a breath, not bothering to open his eyes. Watcha got up your sleeve, Dr. Anand? He knew he sounded snarky, but he didn’t give a fuck.

I’m working on an experimental drug. Given enough time, it might work.

Tested? Dade asked. He already knew the answer.

Not on humans, no. Ryan’s voice was low. "But I think we can buy you some time while I keep working. I don’t want you to give up. Several drugs were developed to slow down the progress of AP12 while we were working on the cure. They have been extremely effective.

Plus, you have the added bonus of not having any symptoms right now because your blood was replaced. It will take a while for your bone marrow to start attacking the new blood. Blood transfusions combined with some of these medications will help.

Dade finally lifted his face and met Ryan’s gaze. He knew his next words were going to drip with sarcasm. So you’re talking months instead of weeks? Swell. Let me get on my bucket list right now. It’s short, really. I’ve always pictured myself growing old in a nice mountain cabin with nothing but the sounds of nature to keep me company. How long do I have before the quality of my life is not worth it?

Ryan swallowed. He didn’t know. Nobody knew.

Dade scooted farther down the bed and closed his eyes again. I think I’ll take a nap. Thanks for the pep talk.

The next time Dade opened his eyes, he startled for a moment. He did that often. Ever since coming out of the coma, he found himself jolting awake as if there had been a loud noise or he’d had a nightmare. Except there never seemed to be evidence of any noises, and he couldn’t remember his dreams.

He was thirsty, but he didn’t have the energy or the will to bother reaching for the pitcher of water at his side, so he simply stared at the ceiling—his new habit.

He’d already been through a death. It had been devastating. It had taken its toll on him mentally. Not a near-death experience. He had died. For all intents and purposes, he had died. He’d known for months that he had been infected with a fatal virus that would kill him.

It didn’t matter that he had been aware there was a remote possibility in the future he could be revived. Remote was the key word. His team of twenty-one had worked on the cure for AP12 for over five years, ever since General Winston Custodio had come to the bunker infected with the virus. He hadn’t survived. He was the first person they had cryonically preserved.

After years of research, a broken beaker had caused the virus to become airborne and infect the entire team. Over the next few months, one by one, each of them had fallen ill. All of them had agreed to be preserved one floor below in this very bunker.

All of them had also agreed to be preserved before they died naturally.

They were scientists. They understood the likelihood of ever being revived would be slim if they waited for their bodies to completely fail. So, technically, yes, they had been legally dead at the time of preservation, but human intervention had been the cause.

The possibility that Dade might one day be revived had been too unlikely for him to put any real stock in it. He’d never truly trusted it.

Dade Menke had died.

So, fuck the weird deity with a strange sense of humor who thought it might be fun to toy with him by reviving him only to kill him again.

How was this happening? He had hoped if he went to sleep and woke up again he would find out it had all been a dream, but no such luck. He was still lying in this bed. He was still infected with two forms of anemia. He was still going to die.

As that realization settled over him for the second time that day, he squeezed his eyes shut. He’d already been through the process of accepting death once before. Only a cruel God would make him do this again. After two weeks of thinking he was going to get a new chance at life, he couldn’t believe how the path had taken this twist.

What had he done in life to deserve this fate? He was a good person. He’d dedicated his life to saving others. Surely the universe could see fit to give him another chance. Please, God.

Deep breaths. Pleading with God wasn’t going to help. He needed to swallow this pill and accept that he was going to die. Again. In this fucking bunker. He didn’t have much time. It would be spent in this damn room on this damn bed with Ryan and his team running around trying to slow time.

Why bother to join the let’s-have-hope bandwagon? How useless. He was weak and tired. It would be easier to accept his fate and let go of any plans he might have had to get out of this bunker and live a valuable life.

He let out a long slow breath.

It’s not a bad idea, you know.

Dade nearly jumped out of bed at the sound of the female voice coming from behind him. He lifted his head, heart pumping, and twisted to find a woman he’d never met sitting in an armchair in the corner.

No. She wasn’t just sitting. She was lounging. Casually. She was literally comfortably propped in the stupid vinyl olive-green armchair. Sideways. Her head leaning back against one palm, her feet dangling over the other arm. Totally incongruent was the fact that she wore a uniform. Navy pants. Medium blue shirt. She had to be one of the security detail.

He continued to stare at her, unable to form words. Her blond hair was pulled into a bun, so he had no idea how long it might be. She also wore minimal makeup. She didn’t need it.

What stood out was her eyes—piercing blue. They seemed to glow from across the room.

What are you talking about? Who are you? he finally managed to sputter, his mouth so dry the words came out scratchy.

She swung her legs around, set her hands on her knees, and pushed to standing. Silently, she came across the room and picked up the pitcher of water on the small table at his side. She poured him a glass and then had the audacity to grab the remote at his side and adjust the mattress so that he was forced to sit up straighter.

He watched her, mesmerized. Part of him assumed he was still asleep, imagining her, finally having a dream. He wanted to swat the cup of water out of her hand and tell her to leave him the fuck alone, but he couldn’t find the will.

When she apparently had him in the position she preferred, she picked up his hand and wrapped his fingers around the cup as if he were a damn invalid