SPLICE
Part One
By Sean Lennon
Larry Birch could not believe this was happening on his shift. He couldn’t afford what he was witnessing. Standing in the main hall of Sub-Level 27 with his mouth gaping, he saw that the door to Room 2715 was wide open. The room was completely devoid of any life. Yet, there were two bodies lying on the floor. Larry knew from the open door that these two people were long dead.
But it wasn’t the dead bodies that frightened Larry, it was the fact that the occupant of Room 2715 was loose. #10945 was roaming the floors, putting everything and everyone in danger. He had to get word out that #10945 was free and that the entire floor needed to be shut down. That meant Larry would then be locked in with the thing that had killed two people.
“Dear Lord, help me,” Larry whispered to himself. He pulled out the walkie talkie from his belt and pressed the alert button on the side. “Attention, control room, this is Birch on SL 27. There is an escape attempt in progress. Escapee is #10945 and we have two down. Need complete lockdown on floor.”
“Affirmative, Birch, this is Security Control. Lockdown is progress. Stand by for instructions.”
“Copy that, Control.” Birch stood in the doorway and looked over the two bodies. They both wore lab coats, identifying that they were doctors, most likely for #10945. Larry was afraid to go any closer, unsure of the specifics of #10945’s purpose. There were so many experiments going on, it was hard to keep track of all of them. But Larry did know that #10945 had a top security lock on it, meaning that whatever it was, it was as deadly as the Black Plague.
Larry moved closer to the nearest body and rolled it over with the tip of his steel-toed boot. The body moved suddenly and the face turned upward. Larry jumped back at the movement and covered his mouth, trying to keep back the bile that rumbled in his stomach at the sight of the doctor’s face.
The skin was leathery brown and was covered in lesions. The doctor’s eyes were blood red and her mouth was open in a permanent scream. Whatever did this, he thought, had no mercy. Larry almost wet himself at the thought of his similar demise. Determined to survive, he unbuttoned the gun holster and removed the gun from his side. He was damned if he’d end up the same way. And yet, he was still scared out of his mind. What was taking Control so long to respond with instructions on dealing with #10945?
Kenneth Woodward sat at his desk, watching the videotape of his mistress and her attractive female friend. His mistress revealed a jockey whip to the camera that filmed the kinky sex acts he made them perform. Suddenly the phone on his desk buzzed to life. Woodward frowned at the lack of obedience. He had given strong orders not to be disturbed for the next hour. Obviously, he would have to make an example to the others with the person on the other line.
Hitting the speaker button, he breathed deeply and asked why he was being bothered.
“Sir, this is Security Control. I understand that you gave orders not to be disturbed but I thought you should know about this immediately.”
“Unless Jessica Alba is waiting for me naked and yearning to give me a great round of sex, you better have a damn good reason to disturb me right now.”
“Um, yes sir. I do. We just received word that #10945 has escaped from his room. And there are casualties.”
Woodward quickly looked at the phone. Surely, Control was wrong about the escape. If #10945 was loose in the facility, they were all royally screwed. Woodward felt a shiver crawl up his spine.
“Control, if you are wrong about this, I will personally hang you by your balls and castrate you with a rusty old butter knife.”
“This is no joke, sir. Cameras on the Sub-Level 27 are working, yet no sight of #10945 has been made. We have locked down the entire level and are awaiting orders on the capture.”
Woodward rubbed his temples and pushed his receding hairline back even further. He was not in the mood for this tonight. After hearing about the upcoming review for more funding, Woodward had been told by his superiors to have the facility spotless. This was just the thing to close the doors on the entire operation. The capture would need to be quick and all evidence of the escape would need to be brushed under the carpet and buried. Or else it would be his ass on the line.
“Control, gather all man power and take any necessary actions in finding him and capturing him immediately. Do you understand? Make sure that #10945 does not leave that floor.”
“Affirmative, sir. We will update you on anything as soon as we hear word.”
“For your sake, see that you do,” And Woodward punched the release button, disconnecting the call. He guessed that the latest S&M romp he had filmed would have to wait until later. Unlike the majority of other things, this was more important.
Birch had finally heard from Control and was slightly relieved to hear that a large amount of backup was on it’s way. But he was to begin the search for #10945 until reinforcements arrived. So he held his gun ready for firing and crept down the hall, looking for any trail left by the escaped.
He was in luck when noticed a drop of blood on the pure white floor. It had gone this way in it’s escape.
“Control, Birch here. I’ve found evidence that #10945 went west of Room 2715. Am pursuing further.” Larry wished that he didn’t have to, though.
“Copy, Birch. Backup to arrive in five minutes.”
Larry was slightly happy at the news. If he could survive for next five minutes, he’d be able to see his wife and little girl again one day. He continued down the winding hall and took each turn slowly and carefully, expecting #10945 to be waiting for more prey and thanking God every time that he saw it wasn’t there.
But when Larry turned down the next corner, he found something worse than #10945 lying in wait. There was a hole in the ceiling with a crumpled air filter on the floor beneath it. #10945 has escaped SL 27. And if he remembered correctly, the air vent before him, led up to the surface and out near exit 13 of the New Jersey Turnpike.
It was in pain. Not knowing why or how to stop the pain, it crawled out of the vent into a grassy field. It lifted it’s head at the familiar sound of passing vehicles and focused in on the location of the sound. It was near. Running madly through the dead brush, it headed for further freedom from the hell it had just crawled from. The pain intensified with each footstep, each swing of it’s arms. It’s head throbbed with pounding of twenty jackhammers, working to free themselves from it’s skull. It needed rest. It needed the antidote to the thing feeding off his insides. Without it, it’s escape would be in vain.
Clark McMahon cursed under his breath about his luck. He was almost home from a long and grueling business trip. It was shortly after midnight and all he could think about was sleep. But here he was on the side of the New Jersey Turnpike, fixing a flat tire.
He pumped the jack several times, raising the car off the empty tire and retrieved the tire iron from his trunk. Amazing enough, the highway was quite busy for a late Sunday night. And unfortunately, no one was stopping to help. But he wasn’t surprised, because this was just the way his life went. Whatever could go wrong, did for
Clark stood up and scanned the tall field. He saw nothing more than dead plants. It was just his paranoia getting the best of him. Shaking his head at himself, Clark gathered the items and piled them into the trunk. That was when he heard the something again. It was a forceful rustling, he thought. It was more than just the wind. There was someone or some animal lurking in the bushes. He leaned forward and squinted his eyes for a better look into the field. Yet, he could still see nothing other than the plants.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by the chupping of helicopter blades. A bright spotlight shot down from the heavens upon Clark. His attention went from the creepy field to the blinding lights above him. The helicopter hovered low to the ground and ran the spotlight past him and across the field in front of him. It remained over him for a minute before taking off down the highway, looking for something along the side.
Confused by the helicopter’s actions, Clark closed the trunk, got in his car and put the car in drive. When he pulled over to the side of the road, Clark was by himself. But as he pulled away, he was not alone in the car.
Woodward slammed his fist onto the surface of his desk. He was amazed by the lack of intelligence in his security team. They had just informed him that #10945 had escaped from the facility and was now loose in public. He had immediately sent up all their scouting choppers and told them not to return until they find it. If they came back empty handed, they would be shot upon exiting the helicopters.
“You Birch?” Woodward asked the man walking towards him. The man’s eyes showed pure fear as he swallowed his answer. Woodward almost smiled at the fear that the others had for him. It meant that he had power. And with power, the world is yours, he thought.
“Yes, sir.”
“You were assigned to SL 27. Can you explain to me how two of top scientists, Doctors Lapone and Troisi, were murdered and one of our most deadly projects is allowed to escape the grounds without your knowing?”
“I was looking into a glitch on one of the security cameras at the other end of the floor, sir.” Woodward saw that the guard was having a hard time standing on his rubbery legs.
“I see. Well then I would like you to take a look at something else then.”
“What is that, sir?”
“This bullet,” Woodward raised his .45 and fired. The bullet plunged into Birch’s left eye and pierced his brain. Woodward lowered the gun and looked over at the security commander. “Let this be a lesson, Commander. No more screw ups or you won’t have to worry about finding a replacement for Birch here. Now what’s the word on those helicopters?”
“All seven are up and searching the ten mile radius of Air Duct 37, sir. No reported sightings as of yet.”
“Well, for your sake,” Woodward said, patting the commander on the shoulder, “You better hope they locate it.” Then he turned and walked back to his office.
Clark left the tolls at Exit 16 of the Turnpike and headed for the road that led to Secaucus. In a few minutes, he’d be home and enjoying the comforts of his bed. He laughed to himself, thinking that there was no way in hell that he was getting up to go to work in five hours. His boss, Mr. Gleich, could kiss his rosy red ass for all he cared right now.
Clark turned onto Paterson Plank Road and stopped at the light by the police station. As he patiently waiting for it to change green, he heard movement in the back seat of the car. Clark looked in the mirror first and saw nothing. Figuring that it was his briefcase falling off the seat, he reached behind the driver seat and tried to pick it up. But his hand brushed across something that wasn’t his briefcase. Suddenly, a hand shot out from behind him and wrapped itself around his mouth. He seized up and tried to get out of the car. His seat belt, though, kept him from going anywhere.
Clark realized that he was being carjacked. He held his hands up and tried to tell the thief that he can have the car. But a gurgling sound that resembled a shush, stopped him from making any sounds.
Clark heard the car door behind him open and the hand over his mouth slipped back behind him. Then he heard the door close shut and heard footsteps trailing off into the night.
He almost gagged on reflex. The thief’s hand left a slimy residue across his lips and chin. Clark automatically wiped his face with his sleeve and stepped out of the car. He looked off and down the street but saw no one in sight. He was presently all alone for as far as he could see. Unsure of what to do, with no real crime committed or suspect caught, he couldn’t press charges. Nothing was taken and he was not harmed, other than the sliming. He could only get back in the car and continue home. So Clark climbed back in and made sure all doors were locked tight.
Minutes later, he pulled up to his apartment on Seventh Street and decided to leave all his luggage in the car until morning. All he wanted to do was go inside and fall asleep. As he stood at his door and fished his house key out of the jumble on his key ring, Clark felt a trembling in his arms, legs and neck. He paused and waited for it to stop. But it only increased. In a matter of seconds, the slight trembling became full force spasms. Clark shook uncontrollably and fell to the ground. It only took a minute from the start of the shakes for Clark McMahon’s body to succumb to the attack. He would never know that his death would be seen as one of the greatest medical mysteries of all time. Because, according to the general public, his stowaway did not exist.
TO BE CONTINUED………
Part Two
By Sean Lennon
Rob Walker sat at his desk reading the latest issue of Weird New Jersey, wasting the time away till sunrise when he could go home and continue working on his bookshelf. Rob was the late night detective, meaning that when a homicide occurred in Secaucus between the hours of 10p.m. and 6a.m. he was the man on the scene. Of course, Secaucus, being a little town, really had no need for more than one homicide detective.
“Hey Steve, get this. They finally wrote an article on that chimney that all the out-of-towners think looks like a Satan worshipper.”
“No kidding? And what number issue is that?”
“Number 16,” Rob said looking at the cover. He wasn’t much of a paranormal seeker but the articles were entertaining. He was amazed by the amount of people who believed this garbage. Turning the page, he saw in bold letters “SECRET GOVERNMENT FACILITY LOCATED UNDERGROUND NEXT TO NJ TURNPIKE.” It made him laugh.
Just then, Brian Anderson walked into the building. He weaved around the desks and zoned in on Walker.
“Hey Rob, this is your lucky night. Got word a few minutes ago that they have a body on the porch of a house on Seventh.”
“You serious?” Rob asked, sitting up in his chair. Not that he was happy that someone was dead, but the constant nights sitting waiting for work was about to drive him insane.
“Sure am. But they say that this one’s a mystery. No wounds. Guy’s dead as a doornail but the two cops on the scene say that the body’s untouched. Weird huh?”
“Well, if it’s Stan and Donny, I’m not surprised. They couldn’t find their heads in a vat of asses.” Brian laughed and Rob left his desk and headed for his car in the parking lot.
Walker arrived shortly after the medical examiner had the body moved to an ambulance. Barbara Housel, the examiner, sighed at the sight of Walker. Ever since he had tried to pick her up once at a bar, she had made an effort never to run into him again. He saw her and smiled.
“Hey Barb. What do we have?”
“It’s Ms. Housel, and we have a natural death. No signs of foul play or any wounds. Nothing for you to see. So you might as well run along and try to pick some candy striper.”
“Look, Miss Ice Queen. That was in the past. And we’re both working right now, so could we please leave the personal business out of this?”
As much as she didn’t want to admit, he was right. She sighed and pointed over to an elderly woman standing off to the side with a Pekinese dog.
“That’s Mrs. Bullock. She’s the one who found the body. She doesn’t know a thing except that the deceased wasn’t the social butterfly of the neighborhood.”
“Anyway can we get a hold of his medical records this late? Maybe see if he has any health problems that caused this?” Walker’s mind was churning now. They had a man who collapsed on his porch in the middle of the night and no sign of a homicide. Not your typical case.
“I can have someone look it up when I get back to my office,” Barbara told him, “I’ll perform an autopsy to find the cause of death anyway. You can meet me at the C.O.”
Rob shrugged and nodded. The faster they solved this death, the better. He opened the car door and drove behind Barbara to the coroner’s office.
Woodward was fuming. Here he was standing outside the rickety shack that disguised the entrance to the Facility. It had been two hours since the escape of #10945 and his security team had yet to find it. He had told them, time and again, that it would be wise for him to sit in on the recruitment of any security guard. But they refused his request and now he had to deal with the consequences of their mistake.
“Sir? The search choppers are running low on fuel. They have no choice but to return to base,” the Security Commander reported.
“Well, then, heaven forbid they run out and crash to the ground? You get them to refuel and get their asses back in the air to continue the search.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.” The Commander rushed off to inform the team of the new orders.
“Fuckin’ moron,” Woodward muttered to himself. It was up to him and him alone to find and capture #10945. He would need to expand the search radius another 10 miles. And all local towns would have to be evacuated with some stupid excuse that he would be forced to come up with. It was insane. He made a vow to fix this lack of common sense once the problem was resolved. And there was no way he would be able to make it to his mistress’ house and film his latest sexual vision. He would have to kill someone in return for this.
“Excuse me, Director Woodward?”
Woodward turned to find himself face to face with a young skinny nerd in a lab coat. The little prick was just the one to feel the wrath of Kenneth Woodward. Ken tightened his mouth into a thin slit. His eyebrows lowered over his eyes in a menacing fashion. The nerdy intern took a step back, surprised by the look.
“What?” he growled.
“Um, sorry to disturb you, sir. But I have some information concerning #10945.”
“And it took you this long to figure out that I’d want to hear it? What the hell is wrong with you?” Woodward stepped forward and loomed over the kid. He loved scaring the piss out of the younger ones.
“Well, I, uh, just heard about the escape.”
“You heard nothing, understand?” Woodward stuck his index finger between the intern’s eyes.
“Y-yes, sir. But anyway, with #10945, there was a locator chip installed in his left wrist, in case of any problems like this.”
Woodward’s eyes brightened. There was a glimmer of hope in the capture of his walking migraine. And thanks to this little shit of an intern, he was behind schedule. Woodward reached out and put his arm around the intern’s shoulders. He smiled for the first time in years at the kid. The intern, unsure of how to act, went along with Woodward.
“My boy, my boy. You are a ray of sunshine in my day. With your help, I could put this puppy to bed and still have time to take a nap before the morning news!” The intern paused, realizing that Woodward was happy by his report. The intern smiled in return. “Now tell me how we can use this locator chip to find our project?”
“Well, sir, we built this hand held digital pad that is able to hone in on the signal the chip sends once it’s outside the Facility.”
“Genius, lad, pure genius! Let me have that so we can start immediately.” The intern held out the digital pad and Woodward snatched it out of his hand. Then he reached inside his coat and removed a small flask. Ken unscrewed the top and then grabbed the back of the intern’s head. The intern tried to fight back but Woodward overpowered him. He pinched the intern’s nostrils and stuffed the opening of the flask into the kid’s mouth.
“Drink it, you little shit,” he ordered the intern. The kid had no choice but to obey. He swallowed the liquid and felt a burning as it went down into his stomach. Woodward released his grip on the intern and watched as the kid hunched over in pain. Woodward stood back, afraid to get any vomit or blood on his shoes. He knew that the flask of acid would come to use one day.
It’s head floated above the surface of the small river running through the Meadowlands. The pain was finally returning after escaping from that man’s car. Somehow, the contact subsided the pain for a short while. It didn’t know how or why, just that it had found the solution to ridding itself of the pain. But it didn’t know if there were consequences to the contact with another person. But it didn’t matter. It could not take the pain that tore it’s body apart.
It wished that it knew what those bastards in the white coats did to it in the germ-free underground lair. Every hour, they would enter it’s room and stick it with another needle, keeping a close eye on any developments, it had. But they never spoke to it, always treated it like an animal. That’s why it escaped. It was not going to stand for more experiments. No more needles. No more lab coat-wearing bastards. No more.
God, it yearned for an end to the pain searing it’s brain. Then it heard footsteps on the planks of the pier above it. It had no choice. It was only a matter of survival now.
Rob returned to the coroner’s office from a quick trip to the Plaza Diner in the Town Square. It was late and he desperately needed a strong cup of coffee. That and he couldn’t stand to sit around and attempt idle chatter with a woman who hated him more than anyone else did. It wasn’t as if he had broken her heart, he never had the chance. All he did was flirt a little with her. She suddenly blew up in his face and has had it out for him ever since. Rob was still curious as to the reason behind her actions but knew better not to ask her or look into it by asking others. So he took the curiosity with a grain of salt and went on his way.
Walker entered her office carefully and found her still in the autopsy room. He knocked on the door and waited for her to answer.
“Yes?” he heard her say from the other side of the door.
“It’s Walker. Find anything yet?”
“I think you better come in here,” she responded. Rob opened the door and was hit with the rank smell of death. He covered his mouth with his sleeve and continued inside. Barbara was in the center of the room, standing over the open body of Clark McMahon. She looked up and removed the cotton mask covering her nose and mouth.
“What did you find?”
“That’s the million dollar question. I’m not totally sure.”
“Huh?” Rob was confused by her answer to his question.
“Well, after a thorough examination, it’s clear that Mr. McMahon clearly died of Parkinson’s disease.”
“Ok, and?” He still did not know what to make of her explanation. She was talking in riddles and not helping.
“Ok, let me put this way. Clark McMahon died of a disease that can be treated. The disease has completely ravaged his body and the real puzzle is the recent physical exam he had about two weeks ago. The doctor he saw gave him a clean bill of health.”
“But Parkinson’s doesn’t just happen overnight.”
“Correct. So how is it that a man who has a spotless exam dies horribly two weeks later of an illness that takes years to kill?”
“Is there a chance that his doctor missed it or may have diagnosed him wrong?” Rob asked, looking for a simple solution to the bizarre scenario.
“Not likely. The trembles alone would have been hard to miss. But looking at his nervous system he would have had to been suffering for at least a year and a half.”
Rob was stunned. All he wanted was a nice and quiet night. But now, he had himself a dead body with a rapid spreading mutated version of Parkinson’s. This was not going to be solved too soon.
“Why do I have the strange urge to call you Scully?” Rob said, trying to lighten the dark mood created by what seemed as the mother of all problems.
“I’m really glad you find this amusing, Detective. Perhaps your superiors will find it equally as funny when I report you?”
“Ok, that’s it. I don’t know what it is that crawled up your ass but I’m hoping that you can remove it before I do it for you. And another thing,” Rob was cut off by the sound of his cell phone. He glanced down at his belt and flipped it open.
“Walker. What? Dammit, alright. I’ll be right down.” Rob closed the phone back up and looked over at Barbara. “The dock master at the piers by the Red Roof Inn just found another body. Apparently, this is an old guy with a nice large bump on his forehead. Care to join me for a look?”
Woodward and the Security Commander stood beside the car that was once registered to Clark McMahon. With the help of the digital pad, they had traced the signal of the locator chip to the car next to them in Secaucus. Unfortunately, #10945 was not where the chip was. One of the officers climbed out of the backseat of the car and held up a pair of forceps. Held in the grip of the forceps, was a slimy electronic chip. #10945 was still at large and only God knew how far it had run since the removal of the chip.
“Sir,” the officer spoke, “I’ve found the chip.”
“Thank you, officer.” Woodward pulled out his .45 once again, this time with the silencer attached to prevent any civilians from hearing the shot. He then fired upon the officer that had found the chip and killed him on the empty, quiet street.
“Commander, this is not acceptable. I want the entire team spread throughout the town and I want the owner of this car and whomever he has come in contact with found. Then I want you to figure out where the hell our little project has run off to. Because if you don’t, you will be next. I promise you.” The Commander nodded in agreement and hurried off, quietly saying a prayer that the nightmare he was trapped in would soon be over.
TO BE CONTINUED……
Part Three
By Sean Lennon
Rob and Barbara pulled up to the side of the road that ran along the edge of the Meadowlands River. Even in the dead of night, a small crowd had formed at the chance of seeing a dead body. Barbara sighed at the group and climbed out of the passenger seat. Rob followed suit and made his way through the curious to where a rookie cop and the dock master stood. A quilt blanket partially covered the remains of another victim. From what he had heard, the victim had a large bump on his forehead. Rob had not heard anything about blood but had a feeling this one would be easy to explain, unlike the body they had just left behind.
“Hey, Richie,” Rob said, nodding to the rookie. The cop nodded back and stepped to the side, allowing Rob access to the body. He bent down and pulled the quilt aside. The face of the old man was stretched in fear. The bump on the forehead was unusually misshapened. It didn’t look like a normal bump on the head.
“Barbara, can you check this out and tell me what you think?”
Barbara walked over and peered over Rob’s shoulder. She winced at the sight of the old man’s silent scream. And then she examined the bump. Removing a ballpoint pen from her shirt pocket, she poked the bump with the tip. The bump did not give in to the pressure and she hummed in thought.
“What is it?” Rob asked, hoping that he was wrong in his conclusion. If he was right and the bump was what he thought it was, he would have a hard time reaching a scientific answer to the demise of these two men.
“Looks like our Mr. McMahon has a friend in death.” Barbara wiped the tip of her pen on the end of the quilt and returned it to her pocket. Rob waited for more to her response but knew he wasn’t going to get any when she turned and walked off, dialing on her cell phone for an ambulance to pick up the body and deliver it to the coroner’s office. Rob turned to the dock master.
“Did you know him?”
“Yes, I did. Henry was a man who lived to fish. Used to sit out his boat all day long and wait for a bite. His wife, the patient angel she is, never complained about it. This is going to break her heart.”
“Do you have an address where I could find his wife?”
“Sure do. It’s inside, let me get it for you.” The dock master walked inside the small building at the foot of the piers. Walker figured that he could question the wife while Barbara walked through the autopsy on this one. He could do without the nauseous smell that permeated the autopsy room. But he knew that things were getting worse. And the worst of all was the fact that he had no idea what he was going up against in these two deaths.
“Sir, I have news on the owner of the car,” the Commander reported to Woodward. Woodward had slowly become impatient. He had been in Secaucus for a matter of twenty minutes and he was already sick of the little town. It was now almost three hours since the escape of #10945 and he could not afford another hour of searching. It was only a matter of time before his superiors heard about it and tore his ass up for letting it happen.
“All I want to hear is that you have found it. Anything else will result in your death,” Woodward replied.
“Well sir, I can honestly tell you that we found the trail of #10945.”
Woodward looked up at the Commander and stared into his eyes. The Commander, made uneasy by the staring, leaned back and flashed a nervous smile.
“Where. Is. It?”
“One of my officers has been listening on the police channel and there is word that the owner has been found dead. The body’s been brought to the coroner’s office. And they have just found another body west of here that they just picked up.”
“Then we go west. Round everyone up. I want this car taken back to the Facility and I want the coroner’s office closed off to anyone other than those already there. We’re going to contain this and make sure it’s kept quiet. And if word gets out, I will find great pleasure in watching wild boars eating you alive. I do hope you understand me.” Woodward walked away and headed for his car. He was not going to miss capturing #10945 for some moronic lackey. But as he reached out for the door handle, he stopped. Something prevented him from stepping into the car. Woodward turned his head and he looked down the street. He saw nothing but felt something. Shaking it off as nerves, Woodward got into the car and had his man drive towards the river.
It staggered down the road, headed back to where it had come from in the first place. It needed more contact, more people to end the pain running through it’s blood. And the docks was no place to find them in the middle of the night. So it thought hard and knew that it had to return to the neighborhood. Regardless of the sadness it had when it made contact, it was the only way to end the pain. And yet, it still did not know why it was in pain or why the contact put a stop to it.
It reached another street corner on it’s way to the center of the town. When it looked down the street for any possible contact, it saw it’s greatest fear. The crowd of men in the middle of the street. And the majority of the men wore the outfits of the security guards residing in hell. They were out looking for it. It knew that removing the chip in it’s wrist would help prevent it’s capture. But it needed to get far away from here before they found it.
And then it saw him. The man in the long black coat walked to a parked car and stepped inside. If he was here, they were very determined to find it. It couldn’t let the man ever approach it again. To do so, meant only death. He reeked of death and it was damned if it were to die after the trouble it took escaping it’s personal hell.
Rushing forward, towards the center of town, it hungered for contact. And it vowed to find it.
Walker rang the doorbell and sighed. If there was one thing about the job that he hated, it was this. The telling to the family that their loved one is no longer among the living unnerved him every time. He stared down at the floor of the porch, hoping that no one was home. But the light flicked on and Rob could hear someone moving around inside. An elderly lady opened the door and knew at the sight of Walker that something was wrong. Her eyes saddened, waiting for the news.
“Miss O’Brien? My name is Rob Walker, I’m a detective here and have some news about your husband Henry.”
“Just tell me if he went quickly and didn’t feel any pain,” she told him, her eyes filling with tears.
“It was painless,” he lied. There was no need to cause her any more pain. She invited him in and being the gentle soul, started brewing coffee for him. She sat at the counter overlooking their kitchen next to him and talked about her husband, giving Rob any information he needed to learn about Henry O’Brien.
“Mrs. O’Brien, was Henry ill lately?”
“No, Henry had a small cold about a month ago but nothing more. He always made sure that he was in good health.”
Rob wondered if it was the doctor was a connection between the two victims. He remembered the name of the doctor that McMahon had gone to. It was a long shot but still a possibility.
“What was the name of his regular physician?”
“He went to Doctor Fuller for the last twelve years. Henry was a stickler for routine. Doctor Fuller was always considerate to him so he stayed with a good thing,” Mrs. O’Brien said. Rob watched the possible connection sink down the drain. McMahon had visited a doctor by the name of Michael Alban. So the theory that the doctor was poisoning his patients was a bust. He wondered how Barbara was making out with the autopsy.
“Now when you last saw your husband, did he have any bruises or bumps on his head?” Rob hated that he had to ask this question but he needed to know if O’Brien’s death was as strange and sudden as McMahon’s.
“Bumps? Why no, he was fine. We had dinner and then watched that wrestling show he always loved. We went to sleep shortly after that and he woke up early to go fishing like he always did.” Walker began chewing on his lip when she had told him that O’Brien, too, did not have the cause of death shortly before he died. Rob began to worry if there was some kind of disease spreading through the town. And the only way to figure that out was to find the one connection between the two men. As much as it was tough finding an answer to the quick deaths, Rob believed that there was some logical explanation to it all. He was not one to believe the supernatural conspiracy laced mumbo jumbo that he saw on television and in newspapers. This wasn’t fiction, this was reality.
His cell phone rang, startling Mrs. O’Brien. He apologized and answered it. It was Barbara at the coroner’s office.
“Rob, I think I’ve found something that you need to see. Can you be here in five minutes?”
“Yeah, why? What is it?”
“I’d rather show you. You wouldn’t believe me if I just told you.” Rob wondered why she was acting as strange as this case was becoming. But he would soon find out.
Woodward stepped out of the car and watched the search team attack the scene of the second related death. #10945 was acting out the exact way he had been built. His whole existence now was the wave of death that he was able to send. Woodward smiled that the project was a success. But it was too early to have #10945 out in public and Secaucus was not the town to start him in.
“Spray the docks down and find anyone who was here. If you do find anyone, inject them with the antidote. Then mind wipe them so they remember nothing,” Woodward spoke to the team before him. “We can’t have this project get out to the public. The government pays you to make sure this is kept quiet. Now do your job or end up like these test subjects.” Woodward waved his hand in front of him, brushing off the team. The team then spread out across the pier and examined the area for any remnants of #10945.
He was in a better mood now due to the fact that they were closing in on their freed project. All he needed his team of imbeciles to do was gather all evidence and wipe the slate clean. And Woodward was damn sure that he would review the scene after they cleaned up to make sure that it was immaculate.
“Commander, what’s the word on the team I sent to the coroner’s office?”
“They just arrived there, sir. As soon as they report in, I will inform you.”
“Have them shut the building down and quarantine all people in that building. They need to be taken care of and all proof of the bodies need to be removed.”
“Yes sir. There will be nothing left after my men get through with it.”
“Good.” Woodward walked off and dialed a number on his cell phone. He waited in private until the call was answered.
“Hello, my master,” the woman on the other line answered.
“Hello my pet. I will be late tonight but we are still on for your punishment.” He smiled at the thought.
“Thank you, master. I look forward to my punishment for the bad, bad things I’ve done today.”
Woodward loved to be in control. He fed off it actually. That was why he had a sort of connection with #10945. Without the hourly injections, #10945’s body was going to turn on him. The project would activate and begin to overload his system. Unless, it excreted the excess through his skin he would die. But luckily, upon his death, the body would dissolve and leave no evidence of the project itself. All would end perfectly and Woodward would come out on top as usual. Then he could make his way upward to being part of the Council that ran the Facility. And God help them all when that happened.
It sat and waited in the parking lot of the town seafood bar, just outside the town square. The shadows of the adjoining building covered half the parking lot and it was glad of that. There was plenty of room to hide and wait for more contact. And it would wait until it found prey.
Anger and madness roared through it’s body. It wanted the man in the long black coat to find it so that it can make him suffer as he had made it for the last several months. It remembered what it was like to be a man like the one in the long black coat, but it was no longer a man thanks to the devils inside that underground hellhole.
The thoughts faded at the sound of the entrance door opening outward into the parking lot and a swaying man, wearing a T-shirt that read: Hello Time Bomb, stumbled out of the restaurant\bar. It crouched in a preparation stance and waited for the man to draw closer. It watched the man take steps towards the vehicle near it. Slowly but surely, the man made his way forward. And when the moment was right, it leapt forward and landed atop of the drunken man. The man looked up and was about to scream but it plunged it’s clawed hand into the man’s mouth. Feeling the pain slowly ebb out of it’s body, it purred.
In ten minutes, the man’s lungs, already beginning to show signs of decay from years of smoking would become completely black and rot into nothingness. And thus the man would die from the lack of oxygen that he would be able to breathe in. And another victim would be found with no realistic or logical explanation.
Barbara was in awe of the large tumor that she had retrieved from the skull of Henry O’Brien. It was what had caused the huge bump on his forehead. The mass was almost the size of a football, which was nearly impossible, considering that the man was acting healthy just yesterday. There was no way that the tumor could grow this rapidly so soon. She was amazed at the unexplainable deaths of the two men that she had examined.
She grabbed a scalpel off the instrument table and gently carved a piece of the tumor off the large mass. Then Barbara placed the thin piece onto a slide and placed it under the microscope. She stared into the eyeholes and slowly moved the slide around, searching for some kind of an answer to the bizarre accelerations. Barbara was just about to give up when she saw it. It was an unknown object in the blood, almost V-shaped and thin enough to pass it by. She focused in on the object and suddenly lost it. It was no longer there. Moving the slide around further, she looked for it or more like it. And sure enough there was one, then two more. And when she stopped to look at it closer, it vanished. It was almost like the V-shaped objects were disintegrating or disappearing from view. She wasn’t sure whether or not it was happening purposely or that the movement was hiding the unknown objects. But she knew that whatever they were, they didn’t belong there.
She ran back to the removed mass and cut another slice off to examine. And again, she found more V-shaped objects that quickly disappeared from sight. If she could only find one and keep it from vanishing off the view, she’d be able to extract it and figure out what it was.
Barbara stood up and grabbed the phone on the desk. She dialed Rob’s cell number and waited to tell him the news.
“Walker, here.”
“Rob, I think I found something you need to see. Can you be here in five minutes?” Rob gave her a bit of a hard time but agreed to drive over to see her findings. As she hung up the phone, she heard something in the next room. Barbara paused and listened for more noises, hoping that it was just her imagination. But she heard it again, this time closer and louder. It scared her because there was no one else in the building other than her. No one else who would be here this late had a key to the doors.
A figure in a contamination suit entered the room, holding a gun aimed straight at Barbara’s face. She stepped back, scared by the intruder.
“The bodies are in here,” the figure called out to whoever was behind him, “And we’ve got a live one too.”
TO BE CONTINUED……….
Part Four
By Sean Lennon
Woodward walked back to his car, looking forward to meeting Barbara Housel and finding out exactly what she knew about the project. The Commander had informed him that they had intercepted a call placed to Detective Walker’s cell phone. The Medical Examiner had called and told him that she had found something.
“Sir, we were able to connect to the cell phone of the detective on the case of the two bodies. His name’s Robert Walker and he had just received a call from the coroner’s office.”
“Is that so? Well, it’s about time you did your part of the work. What was the call about?” Woodward asked, interested in what was already known by the detective. He needed to make sure that no information of the bodies and the usual cause of deaths.
“The local M.E., a woman named,” The Commander looked at his little pad, “Barbara Housel. She was running the autopsies on the two bodies and has found something that she wanted Detective Walker to see.”
“Get a hold of the retrieval team and find out if they’re there yet. I want her silenced.” Woodward paused. “Better yet, keep her there. But have them remove all evidence of #10945. I want to interrogate her myself.”
“Yes, sir, right away.”
“I want you to then oversee the cleanup here and meet me at the coroner’s office when you’re done. If they know something, they might be able to help us find our little escaped pet.” Woodward then walked off and prepared to meet Barbara Housel in order to end what seemed like a raw enema.
Barbara saw herself staring down the barrel of the gun held by the man in the containment suit. She could do nothing but stand still in fear of the stranger and his mission of being there. It got worse when she saw that there were three more of the men behind the armed one. What the hell was going on here, she thought. There was much more to the odd deaths of these two men than met the eye. Now she knew that Walker was right in wanting to call her Scully because now this was certainly something out of the X-files.
“Don’t shoot,” she told the armed stranger. She held up her hands and took a step back, bumping into the desk behind her. The stranger moved forward, allowing access to the others dressed like him. The three unarmed men spread out and cleaned up everything in the room.
Barbara watched as one man dropped a long black plastic bag over the body of Henry O’Brien and proceeded to roll him into the bag. The second man pushed her aside and collected the microscope slides as well as the removed tumor mass lying on the scale. And the third carried a canister on his back and was spraying a thin mist on everything in the room. Barbara wondered if the deaths were the cause of a biological weapon that the government had created. Her mind rushed through the possibilities behind the group that was ransacking the office as she watched. A possible outbreak would not only scare the entire town but cause complete chaos with the media. She wished she had never been at the first scene earlier that night.
“What’s going on? Who are you people?” Barbara asked. She knew that it was too late for her. She had seen and revealed too much to be let go freely. Better to go out knowing all the answers than being killed with the numerous questions, she thought.
“Ma’am, please sit and remain quiet until told otherwise,” the armed stranger spoke. She frowned and refused to listen.
“No, I demand to know what’s going on. What was it that killed those two men? Answer me.”
“Ma’am, please sit down and remain quiet.”
“Or else what? I know what you have planned for me. You’re with the government, right? This is a whole mutated Ebola leak? Or is this some other biological weapon that you’ve created for war? I think I deserve to know why I’m going to be wiped out.”
“Ma’am, I will only tell you once more. Then I will have no choice but to use force.”
“Then go ahead, because I’m not going to lie down for you assholes. Go ahead and shoot me.” The armed stranger aimed the gun, annoyed by Barbara’s prattling. Then, the canister-carrying stranger stopped spraying and paused. Then he rushed forward and stood between the armed stranger and the woman.
“The director just sent word that the woman is not to be touched until he arrives,” he told the one with the gun. The armed one looked at him and sighed, putting down the gun. Barbara smiled and knew that she had won this round. But she wasn’t sure about her health once this Director showed up.
#10945 made it’s way through the town square, feeling the hunger begin once again. The pain was returning faster now. But it was still unsure of the reason why the contact killed the pain and what was causing the pain in the first place. It needed to know in hopes of stopping the hurt for good. And it needed to know soon because it had had enough of the pain. It only wanted to be human once again. It would have given up some time ago but the anger towards the man in the long black coat kept it going. The feedings and revenge against the man was all that mattered. But it did not know how to get it’s hands on the man. It needed a plan and a trap.
And then it saw the Plaza Diner, located on the other side of the square. A light appeared over it’s head. It was the perfect place. There had to be a few customers and it could lie in wait until the man showed. And then it would have it’s revenge after finding out what they did to it. Then it would go about ending the pain for good.
It stepped out onto the street and headed for the diner.
Rob drove into the town square, wondering what it was that she had found. He had hoped it was an explanation that he could believe. She had given him that look that told him that she was thinking something that would only be true in the movies. He was not one that could see the government creating a virus and then allowing it to accidentally be leaked into the air. It could have been some radiation poisoning or something similar. He didn’t believe in aliens and conspiracies.
Walker sat and waited for the light to turn green. When it did, he turned right and passed through the square. As he did, he noticed from the corner of his eye, a figure standing by the side of the road. He turned his head and saw that the figure looked unusual. A feeling in his gut told him to stop and check the person out. He pulled the car over to the side and parked it. Then he stepped out of the car and looked over to where the figure was just standing. To his surprise, it was no longer there. He looked around and could not locate the person. Rob felt a shiver crawl up his spine at the strange occurrence.
“What the hell is going on?” he said scratching his head.
Woodward walked into the coroner’s office and was caught unaware that a medical examiner could be so attractive and yet have the ability to deal with the dead all day long. He stopped short and stared at Barbara Housel. She knew what he was doing and looked away in disgust. But Ken could definitely see his mistress cuffing her to the bed and stuffing a ball gag in her mouth. He smiled and felt himself become aroused at the fantasy.
“Well, well, Miss Housel. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” She immediately started off with the questions. Just like a woman he believed. Always questioning the world until they get it the way they like it.
“My name is unimportant but as to why we’re here, I’m sure you’ve figured that out. After all, you’ve had the chance to cut up the evidence, am I correct?”
“What was it that killed those two men? A new strain of Ebola? Or something else that you government spooks cooked up?” Woodward laughed at her imagination. He would enjoy having his way with her and cutting her up afterward.
“My, you’re a creative one!” he said, “Let me be the first to inform you though that Ebola is so old news. We’ve gone on to work towards other such lovely creations. Why everyday, new discoveries are being found. We just like to take those discoveries and play around with their makeups.”
“Great. So let’s stop beating around the bush and you can tell me what the hell is going on around here so I can die happy.” Woodward was beginning to think that the ball gag was a VERY good idea.
“Are you always so forceful with men? Or is that a lesbian thing?”
“Well, if all men are like you, being a lesbian would be a great idea,” Barbara retorted. Woodward heard two of the soldiers snicker at the remark. That put him over the edge. He slowly walked towards her and then, with the quickness of a cat, struck her across the face with the back of his hand. Barbara fell to the floor and stayed there, afraid to get back up.
“The games are over Miss Housel. I want to know everything that you’ve found on the bodies. And the longer you take, the more people will die. You are going to help us stop this and if you don’t, what I just did will feel like a soft kiss in comparison. Am I making myself clear?”
Barbara nodded. She was not playing with morons here. These men meant business and would go to great lengths to keep what was happening a secret from the public. Yet, Barbara knew that no matter what she said or did, they were going to kill her regardless.
“I just want to know if I was right about the deaths.”
“You will know only what I want to tell you. Now what did you find in those victims.” Barbara looked up from the floor and began to tell him.
Rob walked around, intent on finding the mysterious figure that appeared briefly in his line of sight. There was just something about the person that made him believe that he had a part in what was going on. He stopped wandering and just stood in one spot, slowly turning around scanning the area. That was when he saw the figure walking up the front steps of the Plaza Diner. Rob could see from where he was at that the diner held at least a dozen people inside. If the figure was the one who caused the deaths of McMahon and O’Brien, then he must be planning to take out all the customers in the diner.
“You leave them alone,” Rob mumbled as he ran straight for the diner, pushing himself as fast as he could. He watched as he hurried that the figure had opened the door and entered the diner. But Rob could not run fast enough. He felt helpless that someone may die because he took too long in locating the suspected killer.
Walker finally reached the stairs and took them three at a time. He threw the door open and pulled his gun out as he searched the now frantic diner for the killer. The customers were screaming and running back and forth, blocking him from looking around. He took a few steps forward and pushed several people out of the way. Then Rob saw the killer hunched over one of the customers. He waited until he had a clean shot and then took it. The bullet punched into the back of the killer and he heard him howl in pain.
And then Rob froze at the sight of the killer’s face. He, or now it, turned to face the man who fired the bullet and growled. Rob saw that the killer’s skin was covered in a slimy sweat. It barely had any hair left on it’s head and pus covered sores spotted it’s face and hands.
“Holy shit! What the hell are you?” Rob asked in surprise. The killer spoke no words, only growled it’s answer to him. Then it stood up and took a step towards Rob. Rob kept the distance from the killer by taking a step back. A panicked customer plowed into him, knocking him to the ground. He looked up and saw that the killer was taking advantage of the fall and lunged forward with it’s hands stretched out in front of it.
Woodward listened to Barbara reveal what she knew of the project. He couldn’t believe that it was that much, though. This was going to turn into a mess, he worried. There were too many loose ends to clean up, too many people to make vanish to keep things quiet. The Council was not going to be pleased. So he now knew that he needed a story to cover things up and still keep the Facility and the project from being revealed.
As Barbara was about to finish her telling, Woodward’s cell phone rang. Before he even picked it up and answered, he knew who it was.
“You better not be calling me with bad news, Commander.”
“No sir, actually I was calling to tell you that we’ve located #10945.”
“I’m pleased to hear, Commander. Now tell me that you’ve captured it and I will make sure that you are rewarded for your assistance.”
“Not yet, sir. We’ve got it in a diner in the center of town. The entire diner is surrounded and there is no chance of it escaping. But there is some bad news. There are about a dozen customers and Detective Walker trapped inside with it.”
Woodward’s mind churned as he formulated a plan to resolve the entire problem. And he knew just what to do also. He looked down at Barbara, who still remained sitting on the floor, and smiled. He could kill two birds with one stone.
“Commander, do not enter the premises. Wait for my arrival and prepare the blowtorches. I’ve got another innocent victim of a horrible grease fire to give you.”
“Yes sir,” the Commander replied.
“Well, Miss Housel. I thank you for your help but it’s time for us to end all this. Please join me as we take a trip to see your friend, Detective Walker.”
“What did you do to him?” she asked, now concerned.
“Nothing yet.”
TO BE CONCLUDED……..
Part Five
By Sean Lennon
Rob saw the killer soaring through the air, coming straight down onto him. Yet something told him that he shouldn’t stay still. So Rob rolled to the side and under one of the tables. He kept the gun trained on the killer and managed to get another two shots off before he put the customers back in jeopardy. The killer landed with a thud and remained motionless. Could it be over so easy? Rob didn’t want to chance going near to make sure, considering the skin on the killer’s face and hands. His main concern though was getting the customers out of the diner.
“Everyone listen!” he yelled, “I’m a cop and I want everyone to calmly walk out the front entrance. And no pushing!”
He saw everyone hear him and watched as they made their way to the front door. One of the customers paused at the door and then tried to open it. It wouldn’t budge. Rob moved towards the crowd and saw the reason why. Two men stood just outside the diner, wearing yellow containment suits, and had locked the doors from the outside. Whoever they were, they must have had some connection to the killer. Walker plowed through the crowd and slammed his badge on the glass door.
“Police! Open the damn door!” he commanded. The one man, holding a submachine gun with a silencer attached, shook his head no.
“Sorry, Detective Walker, but no can do. We can’t allow any of you to release the contagion. I’m sure you understand,” the man said, then leaned in and looked inside for the #10945.
“Then help us, dammit!” Rob got only a shrug and the man returned to his armed stance. Beyond the two men, he could see more of them running back and forth. Some held what looked like flame-throwers. Then he knew that they had no plans for letting anyone in the diner out alive. Now he had two things to worry about. He suddenly remembered that the killer was still inside with them. Rob turned around and heard a scream rise from the back of the crowd. The killer had risen and taken another victim. The victim pushed away and scurried off to one of the corners of the diner. She would die in fifteen minutes of Tuberculosis.
Rob grabbed a large plate off a nearby table and headed for the killer once again. The other customers, seeing what it did to the one victim, scattered, leaving Rob in the open. All the better, he thought. He swung the plate and connected with the killer’s chin. The plate shattered and the killer flew backwards from the force. He landed again with a hard thud.
“Everyone get into the back, now!” he yelled. Luckily, they listened and hurried into the cooking area. Rob prayed that they didn’t try to escape out the back door. Most likely, there were more yellow suited men waiting back there with guns. Yet the more important problem lay before him on the tiled floor.
Rob needed to figure a way to kill the thing that was murdering people by accelerating their diseases. But right now, he was too riled up from the attack and being locked in the diner with the killer. He couldn’t believe his luck.
The car that held Woodward, Barbara and the Team Commander pulled up to the diner. Woodward smiled at the sight of the men surrounding the restaurant. It was a glorious occasion for him. The shining moment that was sure to get him a place on the Council. And boy, the celebration he would have with the mistress and her female lover. He was quite pleased with the turnout.
“Well, here we are, Miss Housel. Time to die,” he told her. She shot him a nervous look, hoping that she could figure out a way to slip out of Woodward’s grasp and escape with her life. Barbara would have to wait for the right time to make her move, whatever that may be.
Woodward grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the black car. He stopped and paused in a dramatic effect to gaze at the diner. There were twenty of his men standing around the perimeter and all the customers, including Detective Walker and #10945, were still inside. All except his pet were most likely dead by now, exposed to the little passengers inside of the Facility’s most valuable project. He had to say that the few scientists working on the project did a wonderful job utilizing the information they had received from the Human Genome Project. That was the basis of the project all along.
“Commander, I am taking Miss Housel inside to end this. When I exit, have your men torch the diner. I want nothing left standing, understand?”
“Yes sir. Crystal clear.”
“Excellent,” he gleefully said, “Come along Miss Housel. It’s actually a shame that I will never know what it’s like to have had my way with you. You do have quite a remarkable ass. I really would have like to have fucked it before I kill you.”
“Go to hell,” she replied.
“Oh, I’m sure one day I will. But not tonight, my dear.”
Rob was getting tired of dodging the killer. It was as if he was more than human. Walker had shot him three times and the killer was still running around like he was preparing for a marathon. It was insane. And yet, Rob was still in the dark as to what was wrong with the killer and how he was able to speed up the dormant diseases in those two men. If he had to continue being chased by the killer around the diner, he wouldn’t last to find the answers. He had luckily found a pair of dishwashing gloves and had nabbed a baseball cap that one of the customers dropped. And he had taken one of the cloth napkins from one of the tables and tied it around his head, covering his nose and mouth like a crook from one of those old westerns. He looked ridiculous but he’d be damned if he was going to catch the spreadable disease that the killer had.
Rob was standing on one end of the booths in the center of the floor while the killer was on the other. Just then, he heard the door open and in walked Barbara being held by some old man wearing a long black coat. Apparently the killer recognized the man because he roared at the sight of him. The killer jumped over the booths and straight at the coated man. The man thrust Barbara in the way of the killer, while holding a thin syringe. The killer stopped rushing towards the man once he caught sight of the needle.
“Ah, that’s what I thought. You recognized this, don’t you?” Woodward told the killer, “You know that this will end the pain, right? And you’ve been wanting this ever since you escaped. I know. We had the scientists program them that way. It would keep you and the others like you in line. Of course you found the only other way to stop the pain. But like the injections, that only lasts for long. We couldn’t have our creations, our children turn on us. We needed to keep the upper hand.”
“What the hell is this guy talking about?” Rob asked Barbara. She shushed him and continued to watch the scene develop.
“I’m sorry, Detective, how rude of me. My name is Kenneth Woodward. I run the security at what the government calls The Facility. Young Michael here is one of our special experiments. But Michael escaped from the grounds and I have been sent to bring him back. Because you see, the public is not ready to be exposed to the plans we have to remain the most powerful nation on this planet. Michael is the prototype to one of the numerous plans. But the rest doesn’t matter because you’ll never live to tell this to anyone else. Come now Michael. Time to go home.” Woodward held his hand out to #10945. But the killer did not move. It only stared at Woodward, wanting him dead.
“You’re insane, you know that?” Rob chimed in, “All this secret biological experiments on innocents and then letting it get out to kill more innocents? You’re as bad as our enemies overseas.”
“Touché, Detective. But the difference is that I am doing it to build a better tomorrow for our future generations.”
“What? How the hell is that? Kill a couple hundred to save millions? It’s people like you who make us look bad.”
“Your wounds do not hurt me, Detective. Your opinion is as worthless to me as whether or not a homeless person can eat a decent meal tonight. You’re nothing. I am the voice of this nation. I am one of the people who makes things happen. I allow it to be possible for you to sleep easy at night. Me, Robert. So please shut the fuck up.”
#10945\Michael was unhappy with Woodward. He took a step at him, bringing a hand up to touch him. Woodward saw this and shook his finger at the killer. Woodward smiled and continued prattling on.
“No, no, Michael. Do not even think about threatening to infect me. Did you really think I’d come looking for you unprepared? I’ve coated my skin with a lubricant that will kill off all the little passengers. Moron.”
#10945\Michael looked as if that didn’t matter. It sneered at Woodward and then grabbed his coat’s lapels, picked him up and hurtled him across the diner. Woodward came crashing down on a small wooden table. Rob cheered on 10945 silently. It then traveled across the diner to where Woodward landed and stood over him menacingly.
“TeLl Meeeee,” it said to the evil government man. Woodward was shocked by Michael’s ability to speak. He looked up unsure of what his pet wanted to know. 10945\Michael grabbed Woodward and lifted him to his feet. “TeLl Meeeee,” it said again.
“Tell you what?” Woodward asked, scared enough to wet himself.
“TeLl Meeeeeee WhAt YoU dIIIIIIId To Meeeeee.” 10945\Michael leaned in to Kenneth’s face. Woodward moved his head back in response.
“I’d tell him what he wanted to know, if I were you,” Rob said from the sidelines. Barbara elbowed him in the ribs, afraid of 10945\Michael turning on them instead. But Rob knew better. The killer was not evil. He was confused, hurt and looking for his humanity back. And it was the only way that he would find out exactly what was going on in this rollercoaster ride. Woodward looked at Michael and knew that the pet was not bluffing.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Noooo BlUfF. YoU tElL mEEEEEEEE oR dIeeeee.” Woodward looked deep into the eyes of his experiment. There was nothing but death looking back at him. He knew that the only way he was getting out of here alive and onto the Council was to reveal the specifics of the experiment.
“Alright. I’ll tell you,” Woodward said. 10945\Michael put him down and stood guard, waiting for the answers, as were Rob and Barbara. “Well, you all know about the Human Genome Project, correct? The government-funded project that’s main goal was to identify and catalog all the strands of human DNA. Once the strands were all cataloged, the government then took it another step further. They figured to then use the information to create a better biological weapon. One that wasn’t actually the true killer but activated the dormant killer in each person it entered. You see, we all have certain diseases within our genetic makeup. They are all either passed on from our parents or appear in it dormant until the person does something to harm the body and activate the disease gene. For example, certain cancers can be passed on genetically. What we did to Michael was create a microscopic soldier to enter the body and help to activate and increase the speed in the progress of the specified disease.”
“That must have been what those V-shaped objects were in O’Brien’s tumor,” Barbara added.
“That’s right,” Woodward continued, “We created nanomachines programmed to activate the diseases and automatically reproduced itself to help the disease cells reproduce two hundred times it’s normal speed. This would then cause the carrier to die of a disease in a matter of an hour instead of a few years. And the nanomachines were then programmed to disintegrate once the host body was deceased. Thus, it would not leave behind any evidence of foul play and material for other countries to produce against us.”
“That’s insane,” Rob spoke, “And what if they came across one of your so-called soldiers and tried to extract it?”
“Well, like young Michael has been experiencing, the soldier would only last three hours before the nanomachines killed him. You see, we also thought up a way to protect ourselves from our own Frankenstein monster. Our soldiers require to be injected every hour with a chemical that keeps the nanomachines dormant within the soldier. If the soldier isn’t given the chemical, the nanomachines come to life and begin reproducing within the body. Once the body begins to become crowded with the nanomachines, the soldier starts to feel pain throughout his nervous system. If the machines multiply too much, the nervous system goes into overload and shuts down, killing the soldier.”
“BaaaaaaStArD,” Michael said. He hunched over and cried softly at the horror that ran through his blood. Woodward stood beside him, emotionless.
“Is there any way to save the soldier from dying?” Barbara asked, hoping to save Michael from his horrible fate.
“No. The only way out for the soldier is death. That is the way they wanted it. So that is the way the scientists created him.”
“You heartless fuck,” Rob muttered. The answers did not make him feel better. They only gave him a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach. 10945\Michael looked up at Woodward and bared his decaying teeth.
“YoUUUUUU mUsT pAyyyyyyy.” Michael moved quickly and grabbed ahold of Woodward. Then Michael proceeded to plunge his teeth into the flesh on Woodward’s neck. Woodward screamed in pain and tried desperately to push Michael away but he held strong. When Michael was satisfied with the contamination, he let go and Woodward fell backward.
“No! No, no, no, no!” Woodward screamed at the top of his lungs, realizing that he had just been sentenced to death. Rob and Barbara moved away from the two. Michael stood his ground, a thin trickle of Woodward’s blood leading down his chin. Woodward soon stopped and accepted his death. He sat on the floor and tried hard to breathe in without drowning in his own blood. But it didn’t matter because the nanomachines were now running through his system, plotting his demise. Michael then turned to Rob and Barbara and gave them a saddened look.
Michael then leapt up towards the ceiling and gripped the light above him. He tugged several times and managed to pull out the wiring of the light. He pulled it down to the floor and then jumped over the counter and pulled the dish washer hose. Michael began hosing down the floor between the counter and the booths. Rob was confused by the soldier’s actions and then put two and two together.
“Christ, Barbara, get up on the seats,” he told her.
“What?” she asked, confused, herself, “Why?”
“Just do it!” Rob jumped up onto the booth seat next to him and reached out to Barbara to pull her up. She took his hand and they watched Michael jumped back off the counter into the large puddle. He then took the wiring in his hands and looked at the two one last time.
“ThAnK yOuuuuuuu,” he said and then dropped the wires into the large puddle. The electricity in the wires shot out and into the water, frying the skin on Michael’s body to a crisp. Rob protected Barbara from the sight and waited until the wires ran out of power. Seconds later, it was all over.
Rob and Barbara sat at the other end of the town square two hours later, watching the cleanup team burn all evidence in the diner to nothingness. Rob sipped the cup of coffee in his hands, glad he was able to convince the search team to free the uncontaminated customers with the dying body of Kenneth Woodward. With a vow of silence, they too, were able to walk away from the horror that took place.
“Can I ask you a question?” Rob said to her. She looked over at him with a look.
“Ok,” she said weary.
“What do you have against me? Did I said something wrong to you that night?”
Barbara laughed, “Is that it?”
“Well yeah. I’m curious why you’ve had it out for me ever since.”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“Ok, it was because I was insulted. I watched you try to pick up five other girls before you decided to try me.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Yes! I actually had been watching you all night. You were the cutest guy in the place and to see you go after several other girls before me was insulting.” Rob laughed at her answer.
“Well to tell you the truth, I had wanted to ask you first but needed to get my confidence up first.”
“That is by far the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard,” she giggled. He looked over at her and smiled.
“Think you could ever learn to forgive and forget?”
“Forgive, maybe. But forgetting would not be any fun. I need to have something to hold over your head.”
“Ok, ok, I guess I deserve that. So, does that mean that if I asked you to dinner there’s a strong possibility to getting a yes?”
“I’d said there’s a strong possibility. But we won’t know until you ask.”
“Well, then I’ll have to ask you sometime,” He laughed and coughed up his coffee after she elbowed him in the ribs again. Rob then took a hold of her hand and they sat on the bench, watching the team of yellow suited men contain the blaze and gathering their equipment for a quick getaway.
THE END