The Tide: Deadrise
Page 27
“Oh, my God,” Chris said. The man must have been an enhancer. There was no other explanation for his inhuman strength.
As the sick man cried out, he shredded away the cotton remnants of his sweatshirt. His bare chest revealed muscles swollen and bulging like balloons ready to pop. The skin over his pectorals and abdominals shared the same mottled appearance as his face and scalp.
“What the hell?” The woman shot a frightened look at Chris. “What’s going on?”
He felt sick. His stomach twisted in knots as he pressed his palms into his forehead. “He’s an enhancer. Something’s gone wrong.”
“An enhancer? Good lord.”
The man bellowed. More bystanders trickled out of neighboring apartments. Chris could feel eyes watching the scene from windows all down the street. He shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. The wail of an ambulance screamed, and the emergency vehicle spun around the corner. An ambulatory drone flew ahead of it, loaded with medical supplies and lights flashing to help clear the way. He flagged the emergency vehicle down.
The bulbous man coughed, his head cranked to the side, and blood streamed out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes wrenched open, and he caught Chris’s gaze. The man’s nose quivered into a snarl. “You...did...this.” He pointed at Chris. His arm trembled with the effort. “Your...work...your fault.”
The ambulatory drone landed nearby, opening its shell to reveal a host of emergency equipment. Paramedics rushed past the woman and knelt by the man as another convulsion took him. His entire body shook as if electricity coursed through his bones. Blood vessels dilated and throbbed underneath his skin and over his grotesque muscles. One of the paramedics tried to roll the man to his side and secure the enhancer’s head as he seized. With a yell, the enhancer swung his arm. It collided with the paramedic’s chest and sent her flying backward. She sprawled across the black asphalt behind the ambulance.
Chris ran to her. “Are you okay?”
When she didn’t answer, the other paramedic glanced between the enhancer and his compatriot. He grabbed a medical pack from the drone, jumped to his coworker’s side, and checked her pulse.
“You’ve got to call another ambulance,” Chris said, pointing to the neighbor who had joined the scene earlier.
Her face still pale, she nodded and pulled her comm card from her purse. “We need another ambulance,” she barked into it. “Yes, I know one was sent. You need to send another! Send the police, too!”
Chris combed his fingers through his hair. He was not interested in getting involved with the police. If this enhancer accused him of being responsible for whatever the hell was happening, Baltimore PD would certainly have a few questions.
He knelt by the bruised, convulsing man. In the back of his mind, he’d always wondered if the gene mods he sold had ever caused any negative side effects in their users. Potential evidence of his worst fears writhed in pain before him. He reached out, his arm shaking in trepidation, and he slowly approached the enhancer. He wanted to help, but he didn’t want to end up unconscious like the first paramedic.
The man’s seizure passed, and he lay panting on the concrete.
“Can I help? Can I do something for you?” Chris didn’t expect a response, but he felt useless watching the man shake uncontrollably. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, where his shirt was torn to shreds. Heat radiated up from the enhancer’s body and into Chris’s palm.
The man’s eyes bulged. His muscles undulated like ripples of water from a stone thrown into a pond. “Fix me,” he said in a raspy voice. “Fix this.”
“I want to,” Chris said. “I really do, but I’m not a doctor. Tell me your name, something so I can find you later. I promise I’ll make this right.”
The enhancer said something, but his words fell flat and weak. Chris leaned in closer. Erupting into a coughing fit, the stranger spewed blood.
The spray hit Chris on the side of his face. He leapt back. He repressed the urge to vomit and wiped the warm liquid with the back of his hand.
“God, are you okay?” the blond-haired woman asked.
“It’s not my blood,” Chris managed to say between gags. He knelt next to the enhancer again and placed a hand on the man’s swollen shoulder. “Stay with us.”
The now-familiar sound of sirens screamed down the street. Another ambulance tailed a police car. Two officers rushed from their vehicle toward Chris and the quivering enhancer. Another three paramedics bounded behind them. A steady stream of pedestrians gaped and pointed at the scene. Several took holovideos with their comm cards.
Chris shook his head and tried to avoid showing his face to the cards. He didn’t need this kind of publicity. Not now.
He pulled his own card from his pocket. Two missed calls from Veronica showed, but that would have to wait. Scrolling through his contacts, he placed a call.
“Hello? Chris?” the smooth voice answered.
“Hey, Jordan. I don’t think I’m going to be there in time for the Caninex client.”
“Why?”
The enhancer jolted to his feet and reared back. Every vessel in his body protruded against his reddening skin. He yelled out an anguished cry as his entire body quaked. Each muscle flexed, pulling against the others in contrary movements. It appeared as if the man’s muscles were tearing from his bones. Skin peeled and tore in wide trenches. With another bellow, his head lolled back, and he fell to the ground with a sickening thud. The enhancer lay motionless, dead.
Chris let his comm card slip from his fingers, and a hush descended over the onlookers for a brief moment before screams pierced the humid morning air.
No, he wasn’t going to make the meeting.
END OF MALIGNANT EXCERPT
Find the rest of book here, http://amzn.to/1xkBiyh, or check out AnthonyJMelchiorri.com.
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About the Author
Anthony J Melchiorri is a writer and biomedical scientist living in Maryland. He spends most of his time researching and developing cellular therapies and artificial organs when he isn't writing or reading.
Read more at Anthony J Melchiorri’s site.