PA51184384

Dr. Malikov

I know this letter will be confiscated and read by any number of censors and g-men (hi boys), but I don't give a damn anymore. I have one simple request: to find Nathan Hale. And I think you might know where he is.

When I first heard the name Malikov, I knew I didn't like it. Your serum may have helped advance Project Abraham, but to what end? Sure, Sgt. Hale survived in the short term, but nobody can tell me where he is - alive, dead, strong, weak - or maybe he's locked up in another examining room, strapped to machines that suck the life out of him little by little. That's no way to survive. Nathan would rather be dead.

If this whole ordeal has taught me one thing, it's this: you can't play with people's lives. You sit in your lab, surrounded by test tubes and Bunsen burners, while innocent people pay the price. They're just figures on a chart for you, but they're flesh, blood and soul to people like me and Nathan Hale.

I want to speak to him. You know how to contact me, Malikov.

Cassie Aklin July 21st, '52