The Hive (Rasper Book 2)

by Kathleen Groger

  Adam rocked back to sit on the floor. “I’ll see what I can get out of Uncle Darren.”

  I nodded and straightened my spine. “You’re right. We can do this. I’ll confirm if it’s Megan and figure out how to get us out of here.” I had to save her.

  In the morning after breakfast, we reported to the director’s office.

  Carter glided in front of us. “Good morning. The director said he would be with you shortly. Make yourselves comfortable.” He turned and left.

  “Don’t do or touch anything.” Adam shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Why? Now’s our opportunity,” Taylor asked.

  “Exactly. It’s a test. He’s always testing people. Testing their limits. Even when I was a kid.”

  Taylor leaned against a wall, his arms crossed. Adam paced with his hands still in his pockets. I perched on the arm of a comfy-looking leather chair, tapping my fingers on my thighs.

  Sure enough, a few minutes later, the director breezed into the room. “Good morning, team.” He put a strong emphasis on the word team, but I wasn’t sure what his extra attention meant.

  “Director,” Taylor said.

  I nodded.

  “Morning, Uncle Darren,” Adam said with a smile.

  I got the impression he was doing his own emphasizing by using their familial relationship.

  “So, all of you want to help? Okay, then let’s get started.” He turned on his heel and left his office expecting us to follow. Which of course we did.

  Adam was right. There was no point in meeting in his office. We could have met him anywhere, so he stuck us in there alone to see if we would snoop through his stuff. We were definitely going to snoop, but not yet. We needed his trust before we snuck around.

  The director led us to a laboratory that was so massive I had to believe it was the main lab of the facility. Workers in white coats scurried around analyzing things on computers, microscopes, machines that I had no clue as to what they were. I turned to the right and spotted a shirtless Rollins sitting on an exam table in a glass-enclosed space. A white-coated worker withdrew blood from his arm. My extra vision allowed me to see the mark on his bicep. It could only be a brand of the Greek letter Omega.

  The director kept walking, even picking up his pace a little, until we entered a room with computers, enclosed almost entirely by glass. It wasn’t going to be easy searching for information surrounded by prying eyes. The director touched the mouse, woke up a computer, and pointed to the only white wall in the room.

  “Look there in just a moment.” He continued to type. Within seconds the large portion of the wall the size of five or six refrigerators lit up like an HD television screen on drugs. The clarity was almost indescribable.

  A map of North America appeared. Within seconds, red dots filled the map like the one back at Site R.

  “This is what we know of the aliens’, Raspers, coverage.” He moved to the monitor and tapped Nevada, magnifying the image. “We’re here.”

  The screen showed a green spot surrounded by red dots. I rolled my tongue against my teeth. “Do the red dots mean where one Rasper is, or more than one? How did you get the data?”

  The director touched a spot. “The dots represent areas known to have Rasper activity. We learned a lot right after the Great Discovery by using helicopters. Now we are able to send out drones to survey the landscape.”

  Adam tilted his head. “How do the drones tell a Rasper from a human?”

  “Their blood isn’t as warm as ours; therefore, their heat signature shows up more yellow than red. Here, let me show you.” The director went back to the computer and replaced the map with a video. The footage showed an overhead view of people running.

  The director continued, “See, the people don’t have the traditional red signature usually seen with FLIR thermal imaging. These people have a mustard-yellow signature.”

  One that matched the color of their skin.

  “Is that live video?” Taylor inched his way toward the computer.

  “No. It’s a recording from…” The director closed the image and leaned closer to read the file name.

  I could tell from here what it said: Dallas, Texas, 10/31.

  “Texas. Last year,” the director said.

  “Do you keep all the recordings?” Taylor took another step closer.

  “Of course.”

  “Have you been able to analyze any patterns in their movements?” I spoke the words before I thought about how the director might interpret my question.

  He frowned, giving me a glimpse of an older Adam. “Patterns like what?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, struggling with which road I should go down. Reveal my secret or keep it hidden. Damn it. I had to show I was cooperating. Besides, it might help. “Like moving together in sync, as if it was choreographed.”

  The director stroked his goatee with two fingers. “Hmm. Now that you mention it, I think I have seen them act like that before.”

  He pulled up five random videos. All five showed the Raspers moving in the same synchronized way I’d witnessed firsthand. Goosebumps exploded over my skin. I tried to rub away the creepy feeling of being tracked by the Raspers. Being hunted down. Being swallowed by the swarm.

  “Why do you think they move in such a fashion?” The director’s eyes grew darker, and he gave me a stone-cold serious stare.

  “I think they operate with a hive-like mentality. They seem to all do what they’re directed to. All of them at the same time.” My voice was a little more than a whisper.

  One of the director’s eyebrows quirked up for the briefest of seconds. “Who controls them?”

  “I think their queen, and maybe she has a group of supervisor types.”

  I didn’t mention my secret. The one I still didn’t know how to control. The one where I had been able to tell them what to do too. The one where sometimes they obeyed me.

  “So, they’re kind of like bees?”

  “It was the theory they were working with at Site R. General DeCarlo wanted us to kill the queen. However, Dr. Morgenstern had other ideas.” My voice had grown stronger.

  The image of the general’s head exploding from Dr. Morgenstern’s gunshot filled my vision. I shook away the grisly memory.

  Taylor gave me a questioning look, but Adam shook his head at him.

  “Yes, that was an unfortunate incident. However, things must be done to ensure the continuation of the human race.”

  “Why would General DeCarlo’s death ensure the continuation of the human race?” A hush followed my words. Whatever came out of the director’s mouth next would entirely change everything.

  “Because he wanted the queen dead.” He spoke the words slow and easy like he was speaking to a two-year-old.

  “You don’t? With her dead, we can kill the Raspers.”

  The director slowly shook his head. “No. I want her alive.”

  18

  “I want to study her. To see if I can create a cure to return the Raspers to their human state.” The director’s voice had a hint of a godlike complex.

  He wanted her alive. To study her like some lab rat. I took a deep breath to make sure my next words came out calm. “You really think you can turn everyone back?”

  The director leaned against the table that held the computer. “I want to. I want to restore their humanity.”

  “Show the ones in the tubes to me.” The words jumped out of my mouth. It was a risk asking, or more like demanding, he show me them.

  Adam and Taylor looked at the director as I held my breath. The silence hung heavy in the air.

  There was movement on my left. I dropped my foot back and opened my stance. My hand shot to the gun. Carter slid past me and moved toward the director. Shit. I almost shot the damn robot.

  “Sure, why the hell not. Carter, come with us.” The director smiled and strode from the room.

  If I didn’t have the extra speed from the sting, I would have had to jog to keep up with him. He le
d us down to the third level, where he opened the security door with a quick eyebrow-raised, quirked-mouth look at Taylor. This time we skipped the suits.

  We reached the tank room. The pink light emanated from each container.

  “Why pink light?” Adam asked.

  I ran through a series of deep breaths, bracing myself for what I thought was to come when we got to the last tank.

  “Carter?” Darren glanced at the robot.

  “The pink light works in conjunction with the water and the chemicals they are breathing. It keeps the solution free of bacteria. The water recirculates through a filter, but the light makes it one hundred percent sanitary.”

  “Where did you find them?” I asked in a husky voice, then cleared my throat.

  The director waved at the tanks to the right. “These three we found outside the facility.” He moved close to the first tank on the left. “These three are…” He paused and stared into the face of the woman.

  I nonchalantly made my way down the middle, taking in all the tanks. I stopped before the end ones to see what the director was going to say.

  He didn’t finish his sentence. Carter did. “The three on the left are experimental.”

  I whipped my head toward him. “What do you mean experimental?”

  Carter glided closer to me. “They were humans that were purposefully injected with the serum from the Bug Dr. Morgenstern brought here.”

  My knees sagged, but I forced myself to stand straight. “You injected three people on purpose. For God’s sake, why?”

  The director turned away from the woman in the tank. His face held an odd look. It made me think he knew her. “To test the antidote we have been developing.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked the last few feet to the end tank on the left.

  And stared.

  My breath caught.

  My eyes watered.

  My heart burned.

  Megan’s blonde hair undulated like wispy seaweed. Her eyes were open, and her face held a look that was half terror, half peacefulness. Like the others, she was naked, and my cheeks burned at her loss of dignity.

  Adam joined me. Ever so slightly, he grabbed my hand, gave it a quick squeeze, then let go.

  “Where did you find the people willing do this?” Taylor asked Carter. I loved how he threw the word willing in there.

  The director eyed Carter, but I couldn’t catch the meaning of his look.

  “They all volunteered. They wanted to help save your human race.”

  Bullshit. There was no way Megan would have volunteered. Rage boiled in my gut. I balled my hands into fists to keep from pulling out the Glock.

  Flashes of thoughts whipped around my mind like confetti caught in a tornado. What if I shot the tank... could I save her… what if the bullet hit her… where could I find clothes for her?

  “Have you administered the cure yet?” Taylor continued, pumping for information.

  I had to stop myself. I couldn’t go rogue and just start shooting. People could get hurt.

  “Not yet. They were only infected a few days ago. We wanted to see the effects manifest first. As you can see, the skin has turned yellow due to the parasite constricting the airways of the host.” Carter’s robotic voice did nothing to soothe my anger.

  “When is the plan to inject the antidote?” Adam turned away from Megan.

  “Day four. Tomorrow,” Carter answered.

  The director had gone back to staring at the first woman. His body language screamed he not only knew her, he had feelings for her. Why had he let her become an experiment?

  “Can we see the antidote?” Taylor asked.

  “Director?” Carter tapped him on the shoulder.

  He turned. His back-in-charge look replaced the look of sorrow I’d glimpsed. “Very well. Follow me.” He spun and left the room.

  I was the last to leave the room. When I got to the doorway, I gave Megan one last glance over my shoulder. I will save you. I promise.

  The director led us to a lab that had super-security features required to get inside. The glass room hummed with the whir of computers and likely an air filtration system. Carter remained outside of the lab. When we stepped inside, the air temperature felt at least twenty degrees colder. When I spotted Dr. Morgenstern leaning over a microscope, I was even more grateful for my gun.

  She stood, smoothing down her starched white coat. “Hello, Director.” Her gaze zoomed in on me, her eyes narrowing to the point she reminded me of a cat. “What’s going on?”

  “The kids have decided the best approach is cooperation.” The director’s voice was firm, matter-of-fact, and carried a do-not-question-me tone.

  Dr. Morgenstern raised her eyebrows. “What can I help you with?”

  “Show them the antidote.” The director leaned against a stool instead of sitting.

  She cleared her throat. “Are you sure, sir?”

  “I said show them.” His tone was firm like a father being stern with his daughter.

  “Of course. The three of you come over here.”

  We crowded around her. I fought the urge to throw up all over the doctor’s shiny black pumps.

  “All right. Here you go, take a look.” She waved at the microscope.

  Adam was the closest, so he leaned over the eyepiece. “What am I looking at?”

  “That is a slide of the cells I used to create the antidote.” She smiled a grin of superiority.

  “Where did they come from?” I asked with a forced light tone before anyone else could.

  “I spliced them from the cells of the original donor, then mixed them with cells from… a more recent donor.” Her superior smile grew even wider.

  A sniffle from behind us made us all turn. Dr. Collins wiped his nose and stuffed the tissue in his lab jacket pocket.

  “Yes, Albert. You did the actual splicing, but under my direction.”

  Dr. Collins’s shoulders sagged under Dr. Morgenstern’s withering stare. “The antidote wouldn’t have been possible without your expertise.”

  The director slammed his palm on the table next to him. “Enough ass-kissing. Show it to them in action.”

  In action? Was he going to revive one of the people in the tubes?

  Dr. Morgenstern turned to a locked cabinet and proceeded to run through a series of bio-scans. The sound of a small motor releasing the locks announced her success. As the doors opened, a whiff of steamy arctic air blasted out. She put on a thick black glove and spun the metal container that held test tubes full of some dark green liquid. “We keep the samples in an almost cryo-frozen state. I’ll have to warm a sample up before we can see results.”

  She removed a sample from the tube with an eyedropper and squirted it on a slide. She then handed the slide to Dr. Collins, who placed it in a sort of frying pan, but way more sophisticated. After about two minutes, Dr. Collins removed the slide with long tongs. He placed it on the table on top of a silver thing that reminded me of one of my mom’s potholders she put hot dishes on.

  “Let me hook up the monitor so you can see.” Dr. Collins typed on a keyboard to our left, then the big-screen-sized monitor came to life, showing the slide on the silver pad.

  Dr. Morgenstern opened a second secure cabinet and removed another sample from a different tube. She held the dropper over the slide and, with a squeeze, released the liquid.

  At first, the two samples stayed apart like oil and water. Dr. Morgenstern inserted a silver stick, twisting it so the two substances meshed together. She removed the stick and held it up as if it was a magical wand. “Now, watch.”

  The two substances became one. More round cells formed inside the shape. They kept increasing like the cell mitosis video I had seen in biology, only on extreme fast forward.

  “It will smother the parasitic cells the aliens inject in the body.” Dr. Morgenstern held her hands to her hips in a self-satisfied way.

  “Well, that’s the hope anyway.” The director pushed off the stool. “We’ll kn
ow for sure tomorrow.”

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Megan. “What will happen if it doesn’t work?”

  “Then we will use the subjects for further tests,” Dr. Collins said.

  The director tried to hide the pained look that flashed across his face.

  “They volunteered for this. They knew the risks. God bless them.” Dr. Morgenstern removed the slide and locked it in the first cabinet. Then she turned to me. “Without our friends’ willingness to make their loved ones safe, we would never have gotten this far.”

  She had to be lying. There was no way Megan would volunteer. No way. Unless… unless she reasoned if she was given an antidote, she could be immune.

  19

  The rest of the day passed in a haze. I only managed to eat half of a biscuit for dinner. I couldn’t stop worrying about Megan. About her motivation. About if the antidote would work. About what would have to happen if it didn’t.

  When I crawled into bed, I had Asher play an instrumental melody, but even the music couldn’t quiet my brain. I wanted to sneak into Adam’s room and ask him if he was as worried as I was. I fought the desire and settled for punching my pillow over and over.

  I finally dozed off, and after what seemed like minutes later, Asher said, “It’s time to awaken.”

  I dressed in cargos and a hoodie and met the guys at our table in the cafeteria.

  Taylor clanged his tray against the table. “You okay?”

  I picked at a bagel without eating any of it. “No.”

  “Megan’ll be fine,” Adam said as he slid into his usual chair.

  I managed a swig of orange juice. “We don’t know that. What if it doesn’t work? She’ll be a…” I couldn’t make my mouth form the word.

  Taylor squeezed my hand. I almost pulled away but inhaled and gave him a half smile. I needed Megan to be all right. And she needed me to be strong.

  “The director”—I jumped at the voice on my side—“is ready for you,” Carter said.

  The fact he was able to sneak up on me totally unnerved me. I had to figure out a way to know he was there. Maybe tie a damn cowbell on him.