New Title 1

by Jeffrey, Shaun

  “Don’t you just love reunions?” Drake grinned.

  “What the hell is going on?” Chase demanded.

  “I don’t think you’re in any position to be asking questions, Miss Black,” Moon sneered. “All you need to know is that we’re looking after your friend, as a sort of safety measure if you like.”

  “Safety measure for what?” Chase spat.

  “To ensure you don’t try anything foolish. Now that we know you’re pregnant, it’s imperative you come to term.”

  “How did you find out ...?” Adam. It had to have been Adam. That bastard had sold her out. But why? Why the hell was it so important to them?

  “We didn’t have any idea ...” Moon shook his head, wistfully. “You can’t imagine how glad I was to hear the news. It takes the experiment to the next stage ahead of time, but ...” He shrugged.

  “What damn experiment? What the hell are you up to?” Chase snarled.

  “Now we don’t want you getting all worked up. It’s not good for the baby. Now, I just want you to go home. Forget about all this and just enjoy your new house.”

  “Forget. How the hell do you expect me to forget, you fuckin’ son-of-a-bitch?”

  He pointed at Jane. “Because if you don’t, then ...”

  Drake ran a finger across Jane’s throat and laughed.

  Jane visibly shivered. “These people don’t mess around.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

  “But people will be missing us by now,” Chase said.

  “People don’t miss what isn’t lost,” Moon replied. “They mourn.”

  The implication of what Moon said made Chase shiver. “And what about Mat and Mandy. Do they have to forget too?”

  “They will forget, in time. Memory loss is an unfortunate side-effect of our experiment, but we’re working on it.”

  “The first sin,” Mat mumbled.

  “Take them outside and give them a sedative.” Moon pointed at Mat and Mandy. “And be gentle with them.” At Moon’s orders, three burly soldiers dressed in white uniforms with rifles slung over their shoulders entered the room

  “No, don’t shoot,” Mandy wailed, stumbling away. “Dad, they’re shooting at us. Dad ...”

  One of the soldiers carefully took hold of Mandy and led her out of the room. The other two soldiers took hold of Mat.

  “Chase. I remember.” Mat’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s all my fault.” Before he could say anymore, the soldiers led him away.

  “Now, Miss Black, I hope I can rely on you not to cause any trouble.”

  “What the hell’s going on? You won’t get away with this.”

  “Have, can and will. I’m sorry to shatter any illusions you may have, but where Paradise is concerned, I am God.”

  “People will find out what you’ve done. You can’t hide whatever the hell you’re doing here for ever.”

  “Your naiveté amuses me.” Moon shook his head, smiling. “What do you know about The Tuskegee Syphilis study in nineteen thirty-two?

  Chase shook her head. “What the hell are you on about?”

  “Two hundred black men diagnosed with syphilis were never told so they could be used as guinea pigs to follow the progression and symptoms of the disease.”

  “That’s sick,” Jane said from the doorway where Drake stood impassively with the gun against her head.

  “It’s the advancement of science, my dear,” Moon said. “Project Paperclip in nineteen forty-five?”

  Chase shook her head.

  “Paperclip, the recruitment of Nazi scientists by the CIA and various other offices who gave them immunity and new identities so they could work on secret government projects.

  “Nineteen fifty-three, project MKULTRA, where mind control drugs were used on unwitting human subjects. What about nineteen fifty when the U.S. Navy sprayed a cloud of bacteria from ships over San Francisco to test the extent of infection? No, well what about nineteen seventy-eight. Adverts went out specifically asking for promiscuous homosexual men for an experimental Hepatitis B vaccine trial, conducted by the CDC in New York, Los Angeles and San Francisco. Nineteen eighty-one, the first case of aids was confirmed in gay men. Where? Go on have a guess. Yes, New York, Los Angeles and San Francisco. Coincidence?

  “People get away with things all the time. You just don’t know it. Plausible deniability. At this very moment hospitals change the word experiments to investigations, or observations and no one bats an eyelid, but do you really know what they’re doing? Of course not, because powerful people don’t want you to know.”

  Chase shook her head, appalled at the extent of human corruption in the name of science. “You’re mad. You can’t keep us here.”

  Moon smiled like a proud parent. “Where Project Evolution is concerned, I can do what I like.”

  “Project Evolution?” Chase frowned.

  “Yes, the creation of a super food to combat illness and disease, leading to the prolonging of life, the alleviation of suffering and a healthy bank balance.”

  “Well it hasn’t helped anyone so far. It’s more like evilution. People won’t let you get away with it.”

  Moon stroked his chin. He had a wistful, faraway look in his eyes. “Do you know how much this is worth? We’re talking billions, perhaps trillions here. No one will stop me.”

  “So really it’s all about money.”

  Moon laughed. “It’s always about money. The key to what makes people tick was discovered through the Genome project. They had all the answers, but they didn’t know how to decipher them until I came along. After finding the genetic sequence for diseases, we set about creating enzymes to correct them.” He smiled smugly.

  “So why am I here?”

  “Well your boyfriend was right. It is his fault you’re here. He was one of several contractors foolishly brought in to set up the compound. I had insisted we use only reputable firms with the security clearance for such work, but our backers like to cut corners and save money where they can.” He gave a shake of his head. “Well your friend was working on the food stores. We didn’t realise any was missing until it was too late. The fool had eaten some of our early test batches – because he was hungry. Can you believe it?” Moon said, incredulously. “We had to take time out to find the idiot by doing medical tests on all the personnel; then we had to find out whom he’d had,” he licked his lips, “intimate contact with. He compromised our field tests because he was hungry.” Moon shook his head again in disbelief. “But fortunately we found him before any real damage could be done. And then we found you. We did hold Matthew, testing revolutionary food batches on him, but he got free.” He scowled at Drake. “We knew he was around here somewhere, but we didn’t know where until you led us to him.”

  “Well if it’s such a super food, what’s the problem? Why did you have to bring Mat back here?”

  Moon shrugged. “Because as with all experiments, it has had teething problems and we have to contain the test subjects for the moment in a secure environment.”

  “Teething problems? You mean like the memory loss and the madness?”

  “Among other things. It just needs tweaking, and then when we have sorted it out ...” He smiled.

  “Tweaking! You’re mad,” Jane spat.

  “Madness is a state of mind.” Moon grinned. “We will even cure that.”

  Chase shook her head, appalled. “And what about people like Belinda and Patricia, are they just part of the teething problems?”

  Moon frowned. “Unfortunately, yes. There seems to be a rogue regressive element to the food. Cognitive function is impaired, but we will sort it out. It just takes time.”

  “And what if you can’t sort it out? What happens to the people in Paradise then? What happens to Jane, Mat and me?”

  Moon didn’t reply, but his silence spoke volumes.

  CHAPTER 21

  As Ratty and Izzy approached the building in which Nigel Moon had interrogated them, the fog seemed less dense.

  “Why are we goin
g this way?” Izzy asked. “We need to head the other way.” Her voice trembled almost as much as her body.

  “Because I need to know what’s going on.” Although he felt responsible for her, Ratty was determined to find out the truth.

  “But that’s stupid. Let’s just get out of here and tell someone that something’s going on.”

  “What, and have them bring us back here. You’re a drug addict, remember. Why should they believe anything you tell them? We need some proof because we don’t know what’s going on.”

  “I’m not a bloody drug addict!” She looked hurt by the accusation.

  “Well, when we get the proof that something’s going on, perhaps they’ll believe you.”

  Izzy kicked at the floor, venting her anger and frustration. “Well, let’s find something and then get the hell out of here.”

  Remembering there was a man on reception, Ratty headed around the side of the building. He tried to peer through the various windows, standing up just enough to look into the room without being seen if anyone should happen to be inside, but the glass was all blacked out.

  Half way along the building, he spotted a partially open window. It was only about eight inches in height compared to about thirty inches in diameter, but with a squeeze, he knew he could get through. Standing on tiptoe, he peered into the room, relieved to see no one was inside.

  “Wait here,” he said to Izzy.

  “No chance,” she spat back. “Where you go, I go.”

  Ratty considered this for a moment before nodding his head. She was right. He didn’t want to lose her again. “Okay, but you go first so I can help you up. And be quiet.” Forming a stirrup with his interlaced fingers, he helped Izzy squeeze through the window before struggling through behind her.

  The room was about fifteen feet square and stocked with tins of white labelled food. The only identification on the tins was the contents: baked beans, spaghetti, soup and so forth, stencilled in black. Some of the tins were in cardboard cartons, others were piled on shelves, but they were all kept in order. The only other marking on the cans was a batch number.

  “This must be a storeroom.” He picked up one of the cans and shook it.

  “Don’t do that,” Izzy said as though she half expected it to explode.

  Ratty grinned and put it back on the shelf.

  There was only one door to the room and Ratty crept toward it and carefully turned the handle. He opened the door a fraction and peered out into a deserted corridor. One of the neon tubes on the ceiling flickered, casting baleful light that was more orange than white.

  “Come on,” he whispered.

  “Are you mad?”

  “Well, we can’t find out what’s going on staying in here.” He felt as scared as Izzy looked, but he tried to hide it behind bravado as he crept out of the room.

  As Izzy followed him into the corridor, Ratty felt his heart pounding with an explosive mixture of fear and excitement. Adrenaline raced through his veins, a fuse ready to ignite him into action.

  His eyes and ears were alert for the smallest sound, the slightest movement. He sensed Izzy behind him, felt her warm breath on his neck as she tried to control her breathing.

  Some of the doors lining the corridor were labelled: STOREROOM, MEDICAL STORE, LABORATORY, EXAMINATION ROOM, and MORGUE. Most of the rooms were only accessible with a swipe card, such as the laboratory and the medical store. One of the only ones that wasn’t was the morgue.

  Ratty pressed his ear against the door to check whether there was anyone inside – at least anyone that was alive – before turning the handle and pushing the door open a fraction.

  “We can’t go in there,” Izzy wailed.

  “Why?”

  “Because ... because it’s a morgue.”

  “And?”

  “Well, you know ...”

  “Well if there’s anyone in there, they’re not likely to complain are they?”

  “That’s sick.” Izzy pulled a lemon-sucking grimace.

  “Sorry. But there might be something in here that can tell us what’s going on.”

  “Hopefully not.”

  Ratty shrugged his shoulders. “Well, we won’t know if we don’t look.”

  Izzy conceded with a shake of her head and Ratty slipped inside. Izzy followed, letting the door swing shut behind her, the resultant bang echoing around the room.

  Ratty winced. He waited, tensed in case anyone heard the noise and came to investigate.

  “Sorry,” Izzy silently mouthed.

  Shaking his head and satisfied no one was coming, Ratty looked around. The room was longer rather than wider, with one wall covered with small square doors. Walking the length of the room, Ratty approached one of the doors. There was a handle on each door and he grabbed the nearest one and pulled.

  “Now what are you doing?” Izzy grabbed his hand, but it was too late.

  The door opened to reveal a square hole with a metal tray. A zipped body bag was just visible on the tray. Shaking Izzy off, Ratty pulled it out on squeaking runners.

  “Ratty, what the hell are you doing?”

  Ignoring her, he unzipped the bag and parted the plastic covering. “Jesus, come and look at this.”

  Izzy shook her head.

  “Look, come on.”

  Izzy still shook her head.

  “He won’t bite, come and look.”

  Exhaling in frustration, Izzy took a tentative step forward and quickly glanced at the contents of the bag before turning away, ashen faced.

  “It’s a vicar, see his dog collar.”

  “Congratulations.” Izzy held her hand over her mouth as though she was going to be sick.

  “Someone’s cut his throat.”

  Izzy coughed, clutching her stomach, and Ratty zipped the bag back up and slid the tray back into the hole before closing the door.

  He approached another door and opened it before Izzy could protest. Pulling out the tray, he opened the body bag to reveal an old man. His features were waxy and bloodless. Opening the bag further, he saw the man’s body had been extensively operated on. Where the man’s organs should be, there was now just a hollow cavity. Ratty quickly shoved the tray back into the wall without zipping the bag shut. The sight had made him feel slightly queasy and the tips of his fingers tingled.

  He didn’t want to open any more doors. He had got the general idea. Even if he didn’t know what it proved, it was proof that something was going on, but he wasn’t about to sling a dead body over his shoulder, even if he could lift it. He wanted something smaller.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said.

  Izzy let out a sigh. “At last.”

  Checking the coast was clear, they stepped out of the room and continued along the corridor. The floor had a type of rubber coating and Ratty winced whenever his footsteps produced a mouse-like squeak.

  At the end of the corridor they came to a T-junction. “Which way?” Izzy nervously looked along both corridors.

  Ratty didn’t know. He could see Izzy looking at him, needing guidance. “Left.” He tried to sound surer than he felt.

  They passed more doors which needed a swipe card to enter until they came to a door with a simple handle. A sign on the door said, VIDEO RECORDS. Pressing his ear against the door, Ratty satisfied himself there was no one inside and he turned the handle, pushing the door open to peer in at shelves of DVDs.

  As though offering a warning, he heard footsteps squeaking along the floor and he dragged Izzy into the room, shutting the door just as a figure turned the corner. Both of them leaned against the door, holding their breath. The footsteps passed without stopping, the squeak receding into the distance.

  Both of them let out a loud sigh of relief.

  “We should get out of here,” Izzy said when she had calmed down enough to speak.

  “Not yet. Let’s see what we can find in here.”

  They were in a large room, the shelves of which contained scores of recordable DVDs. There
was also a television and DVD player in the far corner. Ratty pulled out one of the discs. It was dated and titled: The Slaughtered Dog. Another series was titled: Church, and dated accordingly. Others seemed to just have numbers on them.

  Pulling out one of The Slaughtered Dog discs, he took it to the DVD player and inserted it. Turning on the television, he saw a high angled shot taken from inside the pub. It seemed as though the cameras were motion activated as every shot contained movement.