Test Site Horror

by Gustavo Bondoni

  “An admirable goal, but not one which explains the reason for this visit.” He stroked the head of the monkey-like creature. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. You have, at the very least, brought some light to an old man’s life.”

  “You aren’t much older than I am.”

  “It’s the experience that truly counts, not the years or the grey hairs.” He drank deeply and asked for a refill. “So tell me, what brings you to darkest Ghana?”

  “I have a proposition to make.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “I have a lab. We’re gearing up to produce dinosaurs like the ones you saw.”

  “I see. And I suppose they will be harmless things aimed at the zoo and conservation markets, right?” The ghost of an amused smile flitted across the pale features.

  “There’s no need to be sarcastic. As I recall, your own creations weren’t exactly used for peaceful ends by most of your clients.”

  “In that you are correct.”

  “We have a few lines of research that we think would interest you.”

  “I have everything I need right here. I’m working on theory at the moment. I won’t need a lab for a few months.”

  Excitement flowed through Park at the Frenchman’s words. That Philippe would be working on new theoretical directions was more than he’d dared imagine.

  “I can give you materials, access to research that you have never seen before. Secret things I did myself. Some based on your work, other things my own. Even though you are the master, there is work out there that can enrich what you do.”

  “Where is this lab?”

  “Right here in Africa. Straight to the north. In the desert. It’s already producing. Our first shipment was sent off last week, to Nigeria.”

  “In the desert? That is a large desert.”

  “I’m sure you’ll excuse me for not being more specific. If you decide to come aboard the project, you will be told everything.”

  “I’m more worried about that desert. There isn’t much cover in the desert. Anyone can see you from above.”

  “We know that. The facility is beautifully hidden. Here is the satellite photo of the area, taken just a few hours ago.”

  Philippe studied it in silence for some moments. “How do I know this is real?”

  Park shrugged. “All I can give you is my word.”

  The silence stretched. Park sweated in the sun as the Frenchman looked out into the distance. Finally, the North Korean couldn’t take it anymore and he spoke.

  “The French will never be able to get to you there.”

  “The French will find a way to get to me no matter where I go.” Then he shrugged and finished his drink. “So I might as well go with you. At least it might be vaguely interesting.”

  Park exulted. They were the best in the world. He wondered what heights they could scale together.

  The End

  Read on for a free sample of SCAR: A Deep Sea Thriller

  “I’ll say again. If our shareholders like what they see, you will be immediately elevated to Vice President of Skomal Corp. And, I think I can confidently say that they’ll love him. So much so, that your department will triple in size, as well as your funding. Not to mention your salary. So, I suppose I should congratulate you in advance, Dr. Zoller.”

  That conversation replayed in her mind on a loop.

  Dr. Olivia Zoller stared at the reflection in her bathroom mirror. She had spent a full day on the state-of-the-art floating laboratory, constructed by Skomal Corp. The living quarters were completely underwater, giving her a mild feeling of entrapment, as though she was in the Mariana Trench. Luckily, she was only seventy-feet deep as opposed to seven miles.

  She could hear faint echoes from above. The lab crew were assembling at the dock, ready to greet their new arrival. The boat must’ve radioed that they were within sight. It was almost time for the transfer. In twenty minutes, Scar would be placed within his pen, where he would live for the remainder of his expected thirty-year lifespan. It was just a matter of getting him in there.

  They had gotten this far with no problems. Just a little more to go, then she could shove her success in the faces of those damn professors at the Genetics Research Institute in New York. If she had a penny for every time she was told she couldn’t successfully harvest the DNA of extinct species, she wouldn’t need to become a VP to be rich.

  It was about time to head up to the surface pad.

  Olivia brushed her short, dark hair back, then straightened the left shoulder edges of her blouse. This was the moment she wanted her shark tattoo visible. The black, twisting image ‘swam’ alongside a pinkish-white marking—the scar that started her fascination with sharks. The attack which claimed her brother’s life, and nearly hers as well, had only fueled a desire to learn more about these fascinating creatures. It was a long twenty-five year road from that moment until now. No longer was she the helpless twelve-year old. She was the head of the genetics department in Skomal Corp, and she had done the impossible. She had extracted the DNA of the extinct Megalodon shark and combined it with that of the present day great white. So what if it severed her relationship with her parents? So what if two marriages faltered because of her obsession? Like the professors in New York, she’d be laughing in their faces within a few days.

  First, it was time to get Scar into his pen.

  Olivia gave one last glance at the future Vice President, then exited her private restroom. She gathered her radio and cell phone, and most importantly, her ID badge, then hurried out into the passageway. Halfway between her quarters and the nearest stairwell, a voice blasted through her receiver.

  “Dr. Zoller?” It was the head of Operations.

  “Go ahead.”

  “We’ve got eyes on the Jerimiah. She’s about a mile off Pen Four.” His voice echoed deep into the series of steel passageways.

  “Copy that. Direct him north to Pen Six. We don’t want to load the specimen into Four.”

  “Got it. Pen Six.”

  Not that she personally cared, but the laboratory was originally built for training dolphins for military applications. Within the next month, the pens would be housing killer whales, dolphins, as well as a few different species of shark. And somewhere through the grapevine, she had heard that her genetic research might come into play. Of course, the shareholders would have to get a look at Scar first, and the research that went into creating him.

  Olivia proceeded up the stairwell. Her ears popped as she ascended thirty feet. Of course, she could’ve taken the elevator, but something about being trapped in that box underwater didn’t sit well with her.

  The stairway led Olivia up to Delta Platform on the floating laboratory. She swung the door open and took in the salty smell of the ocean. She was on the north side of the laboratory. In front of her was a large pool, extending nearly a hundred-and-fifty feet long and a hundred feet wide, otherwise known as Pen Six. It was one of eight pens circling the massive structure.

  When she first arrived by helicopter, she would’ve described the facility as a flower on the verge of blooming. The ‘blossom’ of this flower was the center structure, where the engineering and power stations were located, as well as watch towers, helicopter stations, and emergency escape crafts were stored. Directly below were the labs, crew quarters, kitchen, and storage areas. Extending on all sides from the center were eight platforms, acting as the ‘sepals’ for the flower. Each platform contained a holding pen, designed for different species of marine animal. Already, Dr. Muniz had his bottlenose dolphins delivered to Pen Three, soon to be experimented for Navy research. In one of these pens, he had planned for a killer whale to be housed. The rest of the specimens were just rumors, but she was aware that they were all natural species. The only genetic hybrid was her creation.

  And there it was, a half mile in the distance. She could see the Jerimiah circling in from the left, directed to line up with Pen Six for transfer as directed by Operations. She saw the fl
ash of lights to her left as the control tower operator began opening the exterior gates.

  The section of perimeter fence was as wide as the pool, leaving only three feet of steel between the pen and the ocean. The plan would be for the ship to dock in the open section. Once in place, a crane equipped with a heavy duty harness would transfer the specimen from the holding tank into the pen.

  Metal gears whirred loudly as a section of fence separated from its neighbors. Gears on railings beneath the waterline brought the fence back twelve inches, then shifted it to the right, behind the next section. If Dr. Muniz took anything seriously around here, it was security. Nothing was getting in or out as long as those fences were secure.

  The Jerimiah slowed its approach, with men on the bow deck watching to make sure they were lined up perfectly. She could hear the water swishing in the pool at the center of the ship’s deck. Cables were tossed down to help secure the ship to the facility during transfer. Meanwhile, the Captain stepped to the bow rail.

  “Good evening, Dr. Zoller,” he said. His accent was Belgian, his skin a dark brown and lined with wrinkles.

  “What’s the status on the specimen?” she replied, not bothering with greetings.

  “Alert,” he answered. She saw the look in his eyes before he turned away. Just another self-important bitch on her high horse. So what if she was? She didn’t get to her position by kissing ass and settling for second like others she knew.

  “I need more than that,” she said. “What are its vitals? Heart rate, blood pressure, movement.”

  “I know what vitals are,” the Captain replied, visibly irritated with her. “You wanna know? It killed two of my crew! It came right out of the water and pulled them back in. We had to shock it into submission.”

  “Then just sedate the thing and hook a pump to it,” she stated. The Captain scoffed. He just told this woman that two of his crew were recently slaughtered, and to her, it was no more than…mere inconvenience? They were just a few sentences into this conversation, and already he had checked out. He just wanted to collect his money, then start writing letters to the spouse of the married crewmember. The other was single with no family, which made it the slightest bit easier.

  First, he had to deal with this legend-in-her-own-mind, deliver the shark, and collect his funds.

  “We tried sedating it,” he said. “It’s difficult to penetrate its skin. And no way in hell am I ordering a crewman into the pool to attach a pump to its mouth.”

  Olivia watched as crewmembers moved along the deck, some of which carried cannisters in their hands.

  “We’re going to need to sedate it in order to transfer it,” she said.

  “I’m well aware. We’ve tried sticking it in the mouth, but it just comes after us. My men have to keep rushing back while others hit it with electrifying rods to keep it from clearing the edge of the pool. So, I’m asking you for your advice.”

  “Have you tried injecting bait with sedative?”

  “No. I didn’t know that would work.”

  “It’ll take longer, but it will work. Get one of the tunas you use to feed it, and load it with twenty-two milliliters of xylazine. Hurry up.”

  The Captain didn’t waste time arguing. He directed his crew to collect the supplies. They already had the xylazine on deck, so all they needed was the fish. A couple of minutes later, three crew members dragged a hundred-pound tuna onto the deck. They strapped it to a crane, then loaded it with the sedative.

  The creature splashed in its pool. Its eyes were red, like it was born out of some satanic ritual. The Captain had heard that somehow the genetic crossover had screwed with the fish’s color and skin texture, but going by how evil it was, he was sure Satan had his hand in it somewhere.

  The crane hovered the dead tuna over the pool. The men stayed several yards beyond its edge. Many of them had seen how the fish had breached the water and landed its upper body on the deck. That was when the first victim found himself in its jaws. His screams still echoed in their memories. Hours later, during a feeding, it happened again. The second victim wasn’t even standing at the edge. He was at least six feet back, but the shark still got him, then thrashed its body back into the pool. Now, nobody was willing to go withing fifteen feet of the pool.

  The crane operator lowered the tuna into the water. Its head generated ripples.

  The fish swam in a tight circle, then turned its head toward the meat. It eyed the gift with its red eyes, then turned away. The crane operator swung the fish back and forth, trying to trick the fish into thinking it was alive. But there was no way for him to mimic a heartbeat, and that was what the tuna was lacking.

  The fish wanted LIVE prey.

  “What’s going on, Captain?” Olivia grunted. She stood on the surface pad, arms crossed, eyes narrowed forming an impatient glare. The Captain never wanted to punch a woman in his life, but this Dr. Olivia Zoller was walking that fine line.

  “It’s not taking the bait,” he said.

  “Have you tried moving the fish? Is there blood?”

  “Believe me, there’s been plenty of blood in the ten hours it’s been on this ship,” he replied. He sucked in a breath, keeping himself from letting loose a hail of profanities. After a sharp exhale, he looked to Olivia again. “It looked right at it. I don’t think it’s interested.”

  “Alright,” Olivia said. “There’s something else we can try. I have a particular sedative that we can put into the pool. The shark will take it in through his gills as he swims about. It shouldn’t take too long to take effect.” She pulled her radio from her pocket and switched the frequency to support staff below. “Need two containers of 2-phenoxyethanel, stat.”

  “On our way,” the lab assistant said.

  Olivia crossed her arms again and waited. Finally, two men in lab coats arrived, carrying heavy white buckets. Olivia pointed to the vessel, directing them to pass the sedatives to the crew. The assistants passed the bucket up to the crew members who had climbed down to the dock. They tied a line around the bucket, then signaled for other crew on top to hoist it up onto the main deck.

  The Captain gazed at the clear, oily liquid in the two buckets, then glanced back at Olivia.

  “So…just toss it in?”

  “Yes,” Olivia said, her arms coming partly uncrossed. Not hard to figure out, you brainless tool. He read that thought. The woman had a stick up her ass.

  He glanced over at two nervous crewmen, who waited with the buckets.

  “Go ahead. Be quick, and be careful.”

  They looked at each other, saw the same nervous expression, then slowly moved for the pool. At six feet, they saw the dorsal fin. It was blue in color. They would’ve thought of it as beautiful had they not known better—or had seen its hideous face. A large red scar crossed its right eye, a gift from its genetic brethren whom it had slaughtered during infanthood.

  They held back while it circled toward them. For a moment, they were ready to drop the buckets and take off running, especially when its nose tilted up at them. The shark turned at the nearest corner, then proceeded to travel along the next wall.

  With a sigh of relief, they hurried to the edge and launched the colorless contents into the pool. The circulatory system mixed the sedative in with the rest of the water, ensuring that the shark did not avoid its dose.

  “Alright. It’s in,” the Captain said.

  “Keep observing,” Olivia said. “It’ll slow to a stop. When that happens, you must act quickly.”

  The crew already had the second crane arm in position. Attached to it were several thick straps designed for carrying over ten thousand pounds. Two divers were in position to get the straps around the fish once it succumbed to the sedation. Neither of them looked eager to approach the edge, let alone dip into that water.

  It took just over a minute for the fish to slow to a stop. The divers braved the edge of the pool. It turned over to its left and sank, its pectoral fin pointing skyward.

  “Alright, go now!�
� the Captain ordered. He sympathized with their concerns, but had to keep his tone strict. The longer they waited, the worse it would be. They hit the water simultaneously, followed immediately by the crane cable. They grabbed hold of the straps and guided it down to the fish.

  For a moment, they hesitated. Even unconscious, it looked like it would snatch them up at any moment. Its teeth were over two-inches long and serrated. Its belly was grey, contrasting with its blue dorsal side. That scar was blood red, as were those eyes.

  Just looking at the beast, it was obvious that nature didn’t intend it for this world.

  The less they had to see it, the better. They hurried to get the straps around it. They secured the metal clips and tightened the slack. One strap went around its neck and gills, another over its belly, and a third around its tail.

  A sudden twitch caused them to back away. The shark’s entire body had jolted, as though hit with a spark of electricity. They froze instinctively, not realizing their rapidly beating hearts would’ve been more than enough to attract it. The shark settled again, completely still.

  “Come on! Let’s go!” the Captain said. Both divers heard his voice through their earpieces, then quickly went for the surface. The crew cheered for them as they came out of the pool unscathed. The Captain thanked the men for their bravery, then waved to the crane operator. “Alright. Let’s get it over there before it suffocates.” Not that it would bother me, personally.

  The crane hoisted the fish from the pool. All hands gazed at its limp, thirty-two foot body. Its jaw hung slack, giving some a view to the back of its throat. One crewmember turned to vomit—he saw an article of clothing in its teeth, worn by one of its victims.

  The crane lifted it ten feet over the deck, then extended to the front of the boat. Its hydraulic arm protruded, doubling its length to reach the pool.

  Finally, the creature cleared the bow.

  “Thank God,” the Captain muttered. It was no longer on his ship.

  “Did I just see it move?” one crewmember asked.

  “I don’t think—holy shit, I think it did move,” another replied. The Captain watched closely. The tail was quivering, and not from the motion of the crane. The jaw was no longer slack. Was the damn thing already coming out of its coma?