by Nick Thacker
Ben waited for Eliza to decide. They needed information — that was their mission. If there was something this scientist could provide, he might just lead them directly to it. And he appeared to be harmless. Certainly unarmed.
Ben weighed the options. There were possibly more guards in the building, and Canavero had said they were currently operating with fewer staff than usual, which meant someone could return at any moment and catch them off-guard.
“You have ten minutes,” Eliza said. “One second longer, you’re dead. One strange glance or you press any sort of alarm button, you’re —“
“Dead, yes, I got the message, darling.”
She sneered at him.
“Please, just allow me to explain what it is we’re working on here. It may not change your mind, but you will at least know that we are taking strides to ensure our working facilities are the most humane in the world.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that I saw you cut a chimp’s head off,” Ben said. “Then sew it onto another one.”
Canavero appeared to be confused for a moment. “Right, yes. Subject 19. Apollo. And how, may I ask, did you gain access to Apollo’s experiment?”
Neither of them responded.
"Fine. Well, in any case, we are well past that study. The trials were — shortly after Subject 19 was euthanized, we were able to perform a successful operation, and then three more. Suffice to say, we will be waiting on clinical trials and peer review for some time, but I believe strongly that we've cracked it."
He turned and began walking toward Ben and Eliza. Ben tightened his grip on the rifle. But as he drew near, Ben saw the man veer off to his left, closer to the cages.
As he did, the chimps closest to him scurried back in their enclosures and pressed themselves tightly against the back wall.
“Back here,” the doctor said. “The airlock. Behind that is the main surgical suite. You will be impressed. There are no surgical suites like it anywhere in the world.”
Ben stared at him. “I look like a surgeon to you?”
“No, of course not. Forget it. I can see you will not be warming to our acquaintanceship anytime soon.”
Ben followed the man back toward the airlock, Eliza close at his side. He noticed she was now holding her weapon close to her body as well, keeping the tip pointed down. He smiled, happy to see she’d listened to something he’d taught her.
When Canavero reached the airlock, he pressed a button near the wall, and a small rectangular door slid open to reveal a small keypad. He pulled his shoulders down and covered the keypad from view, then a few seconds later the doors hissed and began to slide open.
Ben and Eliza stood, silently waiting as Canavero entered and waved them in.
He repeated the process for the interior door, and it fell open as well, revealing a huge sparkling white, brightly lit room, about half the size of the one they'd just exited.
“This,” Dr. Canavero said, obviously proud of this place, “is my pride and joy. A state-of-the-art surgical ward, all tables open-air and space-sharing to provide the fastest, most efficient operating conditions for my team.
Ben looked around. There were four tables with lights hanging above them in the center of the room, but many more spaced out around the edges of the room, filled with equipment and surgical instruments. Three sinks and drying stations were spread out, one each against the left, right, and center walls, and cabinets with clear glass doors hung from the walls.
Canavero walked down to the second table, and Ben could see that there was a body on the table. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, as well as the bright-white sheet covering the body. Tubes and instruments were hooked to the form on the table, all making the underlying shape.
He felt Eliza’s hand digging into his arm.
Canavero stopped by the table, his hands slowly reaching down and resting on either side of the body’s head.
“And this, my friends, is going to be the pinnacle of my career. What all of this has been for. The world will pay us back with their respect and gratitude.”
“What — what the hell is it?” Ben asked, not wanting to know the truth.
Canavero looked up at him, a flash of menace in his eyes. Pure evil, boiling just beneath the surface. “Oh, this — this is just the vehicle for our success. Nothing at all out of the ordinary. I will explain everything. Trust me.”
He peeled back the white sheet as Ben and Eliza walked toward the table, unable to stop themselves. Ben saw a small shape, a human. Revealed from the breasts up. A female. Her face was pale white, blank and unmoving. Her lips seemed blood-red against the cold, pale flesh around them.
Her eyes were closed.
“This, my friends,” Canavero continued, the fingers of both his hands now stroking her cheeks. “Is Subject 117. Her name is Alina.”
53
Ben
Very few times in Ben's life had he premeditated the killing of another human. Few times had he gone through with the deadly act, choosing to forgo any possibility of justification and instead of acting on his gut instinct.
Very few times had he stared evil in the face and recognized it.
Very few times had Ben looked another man in the eye and decided, without further engagement, that they were going to die by his hand.
And yet, that was exactly what Ben had decided.
Alina, the young college-aged woman from nearby Grindelwald, was lying on the operating table in front of them, the sick doctor caressing her face and neck as he spoke. Ben was shaking, his rage only half-hidden behind his relatively calm exterior.
He couldn’t bear to look at Eliza. This was how she’d felt when seeing the chimps in the other room for the first time. This was how she’d felt before that, before she’d ever engaged the CSO’s services. She’d known all along.
This was the type of company she had left, and the type of company she’d tried to bring down. Her husband had even died for it.
The type of company that would kidnap an innocent woman off the streets of a sleepy tourist town, then perform twisted experiments on her.
For nothing more than the pursuit of this man’s desire for fame.
Ben was going to kill him. One way or another — he would hold himself together for as long as it took to extract the information they needed from him, but then…
“She’s healthy,” Dr. Canavero said. “Quite healthy. We made sure of it. She may not look like it, but that is only because of the solution we have running through her.”
“Saline,” Eliza whispered.
“Indeed,” Canavero said. “At low temperatures, the solution we are using renders the spinal column fully inert, and combining it with polyethylene glycol allows us to bring the subject back to life, if you will.”
“After cutting their head off?” Ben asked.
Canavero seemed shocked. “Oh, my friend, of course not. Cutting the head off? How barbaric. The experiments with the early subjects were of a reattachment sort, sure. But this — this is the ultimate result. The final test of all my work here.”
Ben wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or not.
“The first transference — TR-1, as we called it — was a sort of phase one. A true hominid hybrid, mammal to mammal. TR-2, same thing, albeit the other direction, if you will. You already know about that trial, of course.”
Ben wasn’t sure what he was talking about exactly, but it was good information. Perhaps he and Eliza could parse through it together after all of this.
After they released Alina and got the hell out of here.
"Finally," Dr. Canavero continued, "we were ready for TR-3. The ultimate goal. The purpose of Mr. Tennyson's entire division."
“Tennyson’s behind this?” Eliza asked. “I thought he was in his eighties? Ready for retirement?”
“Indeed,” Canavero said. “I’m referring to his grandson. Lars Tennyson.”
Eliza nodded. If she knew something, she wasn’t letting on. He noticed that she’
d dropped the rifle to her side, holding it with one hand again. His own was still ready, his grip tight, but he kept it pointed below the bed and to the side.
Canavero stepped back from Alina’s head and started back toward the airlock door.
Ben was about to call out to him when Eliza grabbed his arm. “Ben,” she whispered. “We have to get her out of here.”
He nodded. “I agree. But we can’t, right? The saline?”
She didn’t answer at first. “I don’t know. Maybe. I need to think about it.”
Canavero was almost at the door. “Where are you going?” Ben asked, calling after him. He brought his rifle up and aimed it at the man’s back.
Canavero didn't respond. Instead, he hit a large red button near the airlock, and the door began to whoosh closed.
Ben fired. The three rounds danced outward, wild, one smacking against the wall and another sparking as it collided with a metal table leg. The third hit the glass just next to where Dr. Canavero had entered. It made a small pockmark in the glass, but otherwise didn’t do any damage.
The door was still closing, and Ben fired again as he ran toward the airlock. All three rounds hit the glass, but none punched through.
Shit.
Canavero smiled at Ben from inside the airlock. He reached over to the wall and pressed a tiny button on an intercom device. Ben heard his words through an overhead speaker system in the room.
“We did not have much time to get to know one another, my friend. But as I am sure you know by now, Ms. Earnhardt is not the kind of person you will want to be around if you hope to stay out of trouble.”
His smile grew, and his eyes narrowed.
“Just ask her husband.”
Ben launched forward, smashing into the glass with his right fist. The entire airlock shuddered, but the only damage done was to his hand. He felt as though he’d punched a concrete wall, but he didn’t think there were any broken bones.
Ben roared, half from pain and the rest pure rage. He stepped to the side and smashed the red button, but nothing happened.
Canavero stared back at him from inside the airlock. He’d somehow locked them inside this room.
“I’m going to kill you, asshole. Open the door.”
“Our skillsets are not identical, friend,” the doctor said. “That is the main thing that has kept me so successful over the years. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, would it? Why would I stoop to the level of physical harm if I knew you would win? I would rather win my way.”
Ben sniffed, rubbing his hand while keeping his eyes directly on Canavero. “And what way is that?”
Canavero didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to the wall inside the airlock and twisted a knob. He typed a command into a terminal below it, then pressed a key.
Ben heard the sound of massive air ducts opening somewhere above, felt the cool sensation of air conditioning over the back of his neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Alina has had saline running through her body for a few days, in preparation for the surgery. I had hoped to include both of you in the experiment for TR-3, as it would be a perfect human-to-human transplant. But I’m afraid we’ve run out of time. I must report back to Tennyson — he should be returning to the office any moment now.”
Ben watched in horror as Canavero then opened the rear airlock door that led out of the surgical suite and stepped through the door. He repeated the process of typing a code into the keypad and then stepped back in front of the glass.
Ben saw his darkened shape on the other side of the airlock, standing in the larger room.
Canavero waved, then turned around and walked away.
54
Ben
Ben stood next to the door. Silent. Waiting. Knowing Canavero would not return.
This had been the doctor’s plan all along.
He realized Eliza was there now. Standing next to him, also silent.
The ducts were still dumping chilled air into the room, the faraway fans humming loudly. The temperature had already fallen by a few degrees, and Ben knew it wasn’t stopping soon.
“It’s going to get colder in here, isn’t it?” Ben asked.
Eliza nodded.
“Like, really cold.”
She nodded again. “Most likely just above freezing. That temperature will be perfect for whatever sick experiment Dr. Canavero’s got planned with that girl, but it’ll also be cold enough to kill us. It’ll take some time, but…”
“But time’s all he’s got now,” Ben said, finishing her thought. “He’s successfully solved the problem of having us snoop around here, and hasn’t had to even lift a finger to do it.”
Ben recalled some of Canavero’s last words to him. Why would I stoop to the level of physical harm if I knew you would win? I would rather win my way.
And it appeared as though Canavero had won his way.
No.
“There has to be a way out,” Ben thought. “There’s always a way.”
Eliza was nearly in tears, but she was holding herself together. “No, Ben. This is an airlock. Emphasis on lock. This facility isn’t a hospital. It’s not just meant to be a medical and surgical suite. It’s also meant to keep patients inside.”
“It’s a jail.”
“Look at the cages out there. Of course it is. The entire place can probably be locked down with the flip of a switch. A press of a button and there might even be electrical currents that run through everything and freeze anyone inside in place.”
“That’s possible?” Ben asked.
“Who knows? How else would they keep live chimpanzees here, unrestrained? Sure, the enclosures keep them in, and they probably have handlers and plenty of sedatives and drugs, but there’s always a backup plan with EKG. They have all the money in the world, so they’ll have a way to shut it all down on a whim.”
Ben chewed on this information for a moment. While he didn’t truly believe that there was absolutely no way out of this situation
55
Eliza
Eliza called Ben’s attention to an unassuming, small door against one wall. “Ben, look,” she said. “See if that door is unlocked.”
Ben strode over to the door, moving quickly. She felt the air continuing to drop into the room, the temperature now bordering on actually cold. She had been chilly for the last ten minutes as they looked around, and she had the horrible feeling that it was only going to get worse.
Ben approached the door and placed his hand on the handle. He pressed down, and the door snapped open a crack. He looked back at her, then pushed it open farther. He was still holding his assault rifle in his right hand, and now he brought it up and poked it through the crack in the door, waiting for any attackers that might have been hiding within.
Eliza knew it was highly unlikely someone had been waiting inside this room the entire time and that Canavero had locked them inside this surgical suite along with the two intruders. Still, in the past few days, she had seen plenty of things she had thought were impossible become possible.
“Weird,” Ben said. “Looks like someone’s bedroom in here.”
Eliza walked over and peered inside. Sure enough, she saw pictures on the wall, one with cartoon hyenas laughing hysterically and another that looked like a painting of clouds. There was even carpet on the floor and a rug that had been laid out in front of a small bed.
She looked around the walls, confirming Ben’s words, when her eyes landed on the bed in the center of the room.
“Oh my God,” Eliza said. She pulled her hand to her mouth. “Someone’s in the bed, Ben.”
Ben walked over to the bed and looked down. It was a woman — a girl, perhaps — no older than twenty and possibly still in her teens. She was small and seemed frail, as if she hadn’t had a hearty meal her entire life, and barely rations besides that. Her skin was pale. Getting closer, Eliza could see bluish veins just beneath the surface of her skin.
“What the hell is this all about?” Ben asked. “W
hy is she here? And why is this room —“
“It’s Lars Tennyson,” Eliza said. “This has something to do with him — I’m positive. Some personal connection, like a family member or…“ her voice trailed off.
“What is it?” Ben asked.
Eliza began to feel something off-putting inside her. A feeling she couldn’t shake, a sense of dread that went beyond anything they had learned in the past fifteen minutes.
Something beyond the physical sense of deep cold settling in around her.
She shivered. “It’s his sister.”
“Lars’ sister? She is?” Ben asked. He looked down at the bed.
“Yes. I remember reading about an accident relating to the granddaughter of Baden Tennyson, the founder and owner of EKG. I don’t remember the details, except that the young woman was stuck in a coma or something.”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, I can see how this could be that same girl, but… how long ago was that?”
“I don’t know,” Liza said. She shivered again, this time not because of the cold. “Years, probably.”
“And Alina, out in the main room…” Ben didn’t finish the sentence.
Eliza picked up where he’d left off. “That’s what this is all about, Ben. This 'transference' that Dr. Canavero was telling us about. 'Mammal to mammal,' he said, right? After 'the other direction' was successful? This one — TR-3 — was what he was talking about. The third style of transference.”
Ben looked at her, a solemn look on his face. “Back when we first met, you told me you were afraid EKG was getting involved with something way beyond head transplants on monkeys. You said…”
“Yes, Ben. That’s what I think is happening here. What I think Lars Tennyson and everyone else in this division has been working on. It’s not just head transplants. It’s full, procedural brain transplants. Between two mammals —“