Seen And Not Seen (The Veil Book 1) by William Bowden

out of the bottle.”
    Out of nowhere Robert’s left hand bears down on Monica’s neck. In its grasp is the virus dispensing gun from the Trinity labs—it fires with a phut .
    Monica grabs the gun from him with lightning speed. Pushing him back to arm’s length she inspects the dispenser. It’s coated with a black residue.
    “Destroyed by the Trinity bomb radiation. Should have guessed you’d have a way to dodge the Thin Man,” she says.
    Robert is still choked by her grip, “Not destroyed. Rendered inert.”
    A tinge of concern on Monica’s face. She tosses the syringe and slaps her hand to her neck, withdrawing it to inspect her palm—more of black residue. A snort of contempt.
    “What is this?”
    “The active virus in your body will see the inert form as an invader,” Robert says.
    The contempt turns to deepening alarm, “What have you done?”
    She lunges forward at him with her free arm, but Robert is quicker, grabbing both her arms, prizing them apart with all the might he can muster.
    “Messiah will attack anything that matches the protein signature of the invader, including itself.”
    He gets the upper hand, shoving her away.
    “I’m putting the genie back in the bottle, Monica.”
    She comes at him with a snarl to be met with a blow across her face with the full force of his fist. She takes it like it was nothing, the virus coursing across her facial skin, causing it to shimmer as the bruising is repaired. Her contempt returns with a sneer.
    “Pathetic.”
    He strikes again and again, Monica just standing there, taking the beating.
    In a snap move she grabs an incoming blow, both hands on his arm.
    “My turn.”
    Bracing herself she swings him about, leveraging her whole body, the force sufficient to throw him over a chair, his body crashing down onto a table.
    Monica bounds over the furniture, both feet thumping down next to Robert’s dazed head. She looks him over, choosing a couple of handholds. A good grip and she hoists him up. A shift of position and she has her thrust under him, raising his body above her like it was a set of weights. She marvels at her strength.
    Robert shakes the daze from his head. He struggles violently, catching Monica off balance. They both go down, Robert wriggling free from her grasp. He’s not fast enough and in a flash she grabs him from behind in an armlock around the neck, her head next to his as she squeezes the life out of him.
    “What goes around comes around, hey, Bob? Haven’t had a tussle like this since we were…” jerking his head back, “…kids. Remember the corn fields?”
    “Wheat. They…were…wheat.”
    She releases him, letting him crumple to the floor. Another handhold and she coils herself like a discus thrower.
    “You see, your trouble has always been that you are the perfect gentleman.”
    With a grunt and all her strength, she unwinds, flinging Robert at the floor to ceiling windows, back first. He slams against a pane of toughened glass, bouncing off to fall flat on his face. Monica is back on him in an instant, propping him up against the glass.
    “But you know, it’s just not the done thing to…,” a brutal right hook across his face, “hit a woman.”
    She beats him again, this time with a true rage on her face.
    Robert is out cold, his face bloodied. Monica is ready for another blow, but she can’t quite manage it, a turmoil of anger and remorse threatening to consume her. She drops to her knees beside him, the anger evaporating to leave behind a deep sadness.
    “And I loved you, too.”
    She leans in to give him a delicate kiss on the lips.
    Robert comes around, his eyes creeping open. Monica gently caresses him.
    “But that was then and this is now.”
    Two pairs of sad eyes gaze into each other with the memories of happier times lost.
    Robert’s eyes widen. Horror flashes onto his face.
    “Monica…”
    Observing his distress, Monica tentatively puts her hand to her face. Her fingers sink into a mush that was her