Project Human

by Sean McKenzie

nearly burnt clean of identity. As was the clothing, and the rest of the body. The blood that had leaked and pooled around the chest and throat lay sizzling, bubbling. Whitmere ran his fingers through it, watching it drip off them.

  He turned to Jean, smiling, his eyes hiding something. “You did this, Jean?”

  “I had no choice.” She shrugged; her heart racing; the game just beginning.

  “Really?” His voice laced in doubt, his eyes filled with suspicion. “You’ve never drawn a weapon on anything ever before.”

  Jean didn’t care for how long Whitmere studied the scene. She grew nervous.

  “I should go inform the Council,” Jean said. “You need to come with me.”

  Whitmere rose. He stared into her eyes. They were filled with sadness, and something else, something he could not identify. “I will tell them when I tell them of the success of the last two patients. There’s no need to rush off just yet.”

  Jean looked away from his penetrating gaze and nodded. Barton needed more time, she thought. She had gone too far now to fail him. She had to delay Whitmere.

  “We should take his body to the incinerator.”

  Whitmere’s smile was hard. “It must have been difficult for you to end his life.”

  “I don’t see them the way you do.” Jean’s eyes were distant, voice frail. “They have a life, as we do. They could be companions to us. Friends, even.”

  His smile fled. “How close were you, Jean? Were you close enough with him to be blinded by what was happening here? By what would eventually happen? By what he was and what you are? Did you forget whose side he was on?”

  Jean stared him down hard. He would not see the truth in her eyes. He would not believe anything other than what she was telling him. Besides, there was no lie in that. They were friends.

  “I was closer to him than I am to some of us. We were alike in a few ways.”

  “We created him, Jean!” Whitmere could feel the knife in his back twisting. “He was not one of us!”

  “There is an admiration for something that you create,” she began with an edge. “Your heart has gone cold. I think it is you that has forgotten a few things.”

  “They are nothing to us, Jean.” Whitmere’s glare burned with fire. “They are a dying race of greed and lust. You’ve seen it for yourself. There’s no honor or love amongst them. I’ve read their minds, I’ve seen their thoughts. They kill each other, Jean. They deserve their fates. They’re nothing like us.”

  His head cocked to the side and he smiled at her. “Maybe you have more in common with them than I realized.”

  Jean felt her throat tighten. She looked away from him. He was dangerous. “Maybe.”

  Whitmere laughed, cold and heartless. “They deserve death. Their planet will be ours soon. They can all die beneath our feet.”

  Jean wanted away from him. “You’ll have to excuse me, doctor. I have things to take care of.”

  As she turned, a voice boomed out of the speaker system, stern and desperate. “Sector seven—evacuate immediately! I repeat, sector seven please evacuate!”

  “Oh, no.” Jean gasped. “It’s collapsed. It’s failing. We have to escape.”

  “No! That idiot will kill us all!”

  Whitmere grabbed Jean’s arm, pulling her away from the door. “Why don’t you come with me, Jean?”

  “Let go of me!” She pulled free but it didn’t matter. Whitmere had his hand against her back and began leading her out of the room and down the hall. Others rushed past, worry plastered on their faces, their voices panicked as they fled.

  “I may need your help. Someone else may need to die.”

  Jean swallowed her fear and kept his quick pace. Her stomach began to swirl.

  As they approached the surgery room, Whitmere saw the doors were wide open and two guards stood just inside. He saw the panic in their eyes and knew something horrible had happened.

  In his head, Whitmere thought that somehow both Adelle and Darryl had died. But as he rushed into the room and saw one empty bed and the other missing, he knew something else had happened.

  “No!”

  Jean pulled away from him, her face flush with fear.

  “What happened?! Where are they?!” Whitmere pounded his fists against the empty bed. He was furious.

  The guards wiped their sweaty faces on their shirt sleeves. They had no answer.

  “Find them!” he screamed to the guards. They left immediately.

  Whitmere loosened his shirt, wet in a few places due to sweat. He screamed in frustration and hatred, “I want him dead! Dead!”

  Whitmere turned towards Jean. He saw it then. It was in her eyes. She couldn’t hide it. He swallowed his anger, feeling his fingers shaking with fury. He could almost feel the warmth of her neck placed between his hands as he crushed it.

  “You’ve crossed the line this time, Jean.” Whitmere snarled like an animal. “You’ve always thought that you were smarter than me. Better than me. You want the job I have. You’re jealous and pathetic. And worst of all—a traitor.”

  Jean unconvincingly shook her head. She couldn’t bring forth any words to help her.

  He walked slowly over to her. His eyes twinkled like burning embers. “When you said you killed him, I couldn’t believe you. But when I saw the blood, I didn’t have to. Theirs doesn’t singe and smoke like ours, Jean. But how would you know that? You’ve never killed one of them. Seems that you only kill your own kind.”

  “You’ve lost your mind!” Jean stepped away, rushing for the door.

  Whitmere was quicker. He blocked her exit, her escape, pinning her to the wall, pressing his body hard against hers. She struggled in vain for a few moments.

  “What did you do, Jean?” Whitmere growled softly in her ear. “You killed your own kind for the sake of them. Them, Jean. Them!”

  Whitmere spoke the words as though he hated and loathed them so much that the mere pronunciation of the word was too much to bear. As he continued, his voice grew stern, with more of a violent tone.

  “We’re scientists! We were supposed to find a way to help our people, OUR PEOPLE, survive on their planet! What went wrong, doctor? What happened to you? Where’s your loyalty? Tell me where he is and I’ll make sure you get a quick execution.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe if you were smarter—”

  Whitmere gave her a blow to the stomach. He lifted her chin up as she doubled over in pain, gasping for air.

  “Oh Jean. You are such a disappointment.” Whitmere placed one hand around her neck and slowly squeezed.

  Jean’s eyes watered. She found enough strength to smile. “He’s going home.”

  “No, Jean. He’s already home. This is where he was made; this is where he will die. I will make certain of it.”

  Whitmere grabbed Jean by the wrist and pulled her out of the room with him.

  “Where are you taking me?” Jean screamed and cried.

  “We’re going where you told him to go,” Whitmere cursed back.

  Two double doors stood before Darryl. They wouldn’t open. “Something’s wrong! They’re not moving!”

  Barton crawled out of his hiding place to see what the problem was. “Push!”

  The siren ringing at the end of the corridor was loud and uncomfortable. Barton and Darryl fought through it, working together, doing everything they could think of to get the doors to open, but nothing worked. Panic set in for them.

  “Can we turn around and go someplace else?” Darryl asked. His fingers were twitching nervously. He stared at Adelle in bed, still motionless.

  “This is the only way out of this place! We need to open them!” Barton screamed, thrusting his shoulder into the doors, only to bounce off of them. He looked at the map Jean had given him and shook his head in despair. “I don’t understand it.”

  “Why would they be locked?” asked Darryl. His eyes were wide, his face sweaty.

  “I don’t know! I trust Jean. She wouldn’t set us
up. Look for a release. There must be a way!” Barton threw his fists against the doors. He realized then what was happening. His face fell in worry. “The shield! It’s been breached! They are shutting down sectors to prevent a total collapse! We’re trapped!”

  “What? No!” Darryl cried. He didn’t know which way to turn. There were no other doors, no other way to exit. He looked into Barton’s eyes, finding the same fear.

  “Back! There has to be a way out of here! Move!”

  Barton barked orders, not bothering to hide any more, taking the lead as Darryl pushed the bed beside him. The game was up and they needed to escape at any cost. They raced through the hall back to the corner. As they turned, the hallway before them stood empty. Save for one figure.

  “Jean?” Barton whispered.

  Jean stood alone. “Doctor Barton.”

  Barton slowed Darryl, approaching her with caution, whispering to her with uncertainty.

  “Jean? The doors are locked.” Barton was confused. “Is there another way? Can you lead us out?”

  “Escape cannot be found here,” she said. She held his gaze, hoping he would see.

  As Barton and Darryl came within a few feet of her, Barton sensed something was wrong. He saw Jean’s tears running down her cheeks.

  “Run.” She whispered so softly that Barton missed it.

  “What?” Darryl asked. He saw the fear in her eyes. “Something’s not right.”

  “What is it, Jean? Tell me. Is it Whitmere? Does he know?” Barton pressed gently.

  Barton stood within a few inches from her when he saw it in Jean’s eyes. They were teary, but said more than her words.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped painfully. Her head motioned to her