by Amy Star
He disappeared in the back, and she heard a door shut. By a small bar, she poured two glasses of what looked like Scotch, and the smell almost mad her gag. Her keen observation skills moved across the room, and she noticed a flat art-deco desk against the window with a laptop.
She hesitated again for half a second and sped over. Not even a password, she remarked in disbelief and typed in search command. Over the top of the laptop she looked up nervously. Vladimir was pissing heavily into the toilet and she could hear the splashing. He was humming to himself, something in Russian she couldn’t translate.
Several windows popped up and she pulled the USB from between her breasts, hidden on a chain around her neck, and plugged it in. From a cursory look, it seemed like there was only one distributor that matched Laura’s criteria. She would have to let Laura’s people figure it out.
“Hurry up,” she whispered, tapping her finger on the laptop.
Done. She pulled it out and looked up and gasped. Vladimir was snarling at her, a look of murderous intent on his face. She didn’t have time to duck as he slapped her across the face and she fell backward. Just pain, she snarled, kicking off the stilettos.
Vladimir took a step forward and saw the USB on the floor. One heavy foot came down, shattering it into pieces, and she swore to herself.
“Little bitch,” Vladimir said, “who are you? Who sent you?”
She stood up. He was blocking her path. She knew that she could probably make it past him, even render him unconscious, but there was something she needed from him and she wasn’t going to leave without it. She owed him one, too. He seemed taken aback as she unzipped the back of her dress and peeled the skin-tight dress off. Free of their constraints, her brown breasts pushed down, full and heavy. Vladimir’s attention seemed caught by the dark shadows where her breasts curved underneath themselves, literally spilling out from her.
“The fuck?” he said, watching as she pulled down the rest of the dress and stripped off her panties. She stood fully naked in front of him, and took a step forward, her pubic hair a triangular mound, thin and sharp as quills.
“I have one question,” she said, and took another step.
He reached out to hit her again, but she blocked him and spun around, roundhouse kicking him in the jaw. He fell and looked up, spat blood, and wiped his mouth.
“I’m going to kill you!”
She blocked another punch targeting her stomach, kicked him hard in the groin and leaned over him. “One question. Who is your biggest supplier of Laudacite?”
“Go to hell!” the Russian murmured.
“Do you know why I’m naked?” she asked with a grin, “It’s so I don’t ruin the dress for what I’m about to do.”
Ten minutes later, she walked out of the club with a laptop under one arm and a small silver briefcase in the other. Laura raised an eyebrow through the tinted window of the Cadillac and rolled it down. The woman was barefoot, and had a small bruise forming on her jawline, but she was smiling a killer smile.
“I won’t ask where your shoes are,” Laura said, “but did you kill him?”
Sarah shook her head. “Funny what a person will divulge when a giant Grizzly bear appears in the kitchen. He was more than happy to offer us all this contact lists,” she grinned, stepping into the car and handing over the computer. “I don’t know if it’s possible to help your friends… those of you that Golding has changed. But this might help.”
Laura looked at the silver briefcase. “What is it?”
“Laudacite. The next shipment that was supposed to go to Golding. I think we found the perfect cover for getting into the mad doctor’s facility. We’re on delivery duty.”
THE FINAL CHAPTER
The next stage of the plan had been intricately coordinated by Laura as well, but it was the part of the plan that Sarah liked even less. As they continued on in the Cadillac, Sarah took the dress off again and changed awkwardly into a pair of jeans and a business shirt, grimacing as Laura helped her straighten a black tie, and slip on a lab coat.
“You look almost like a scientist,” Laura said.
“I don’t fancy going in there alone.”
She accepted the security badge from Laura and put it over her neck. The strategy was something worthy of her own design, it would be a double-pronged attack. She’d act as courier of the Laudacite and attempt to make her way into the inner sanctum of the facility where she could subdue Dr. Golding. Meanwhile, Laura and her group would mount an offensive and try to bring down the Wolves so she could escape.
“This is a very bad plan,” Sarah reiterated, adjusting a pair of black glasses that Laura also filched from her pocket.
“You’re the lynchpin,” Laura agreed. “Your husband wasn’t right. You don’t have to do this. It’s possible the Doctor won’t want to come along. He might even attack you…”
“I’ve killed before,” Sarah replied grimly, “and I’m in no hurry to do it again. But I won’t unless I absolutely have to.”
Laura gave the woman a hard glance and finally looked away.
“We all do what we must to protect our loved ones.”
At Brixton, they changed cars, and Sarah hopped into a dark sedan driven by a young kid she took to be a Fox. He smiled mischievously and lowered the cap, hiding his almost yellow eyes. Even as they neared the complex again, she felt something tightening in her stomach. Think of Cora, think of Connor, think of getting out of this alive, she repeated to herself.
Even from the heavy gates, she could see where she and Connor had come through the fence. There was still a hole, and the sharp edges were dark with dried blood, but someone had welded a new piece over the top. She shivered, and clasped the security badge tighter.
A stern security guard at the entrance looked at her once and seemed to take his time scanning it through a bar-code reader. It was like waiting for a terminal diagnosis, and she knew that even in the cool shade of the sedan she was visibly sweating. Finally, he handed it back to her and ushered her into the courtyard of the facility where another doctor, the bald one she had seen the night before, was waiting for her.
“Where’s Doctor Sarlowski?” the bald man said. Sarah saw his nametag: KROETSCH.
“Family emergency,” she replied with a blasé tone, and adjusted her glasses, “I’m Doctor Lenore. Vladimir sent me in his stead.”
Kroetsch looked Sarah up and down, scrutinizing her like she was an organism under a microscope and she tried to ignore the comparison. She held up the silver suitcase, and raised her eyebrow, trying to fake a look of irritability. Kroetsch finally relented and shrugged, and she followed him through double doors. The facility was clean, sterile as a hospital, and she didn’t like that comparison either.
He led her into an aluminum-sided elevator and hit a giant button inside with a red R on it. The elevator shook and she tried to find her balance again. Kroetsch gave her an amused look, like he’d been expecting it, and pulled his hands in front of him.
“We’re heading to the basement level,” he announced, “Dr. Golding prefers to accept the shipments personally. You understand.”
Sarah merely nodded, and the elevators swished open. She physically jumped back. The basement level was entirely different from the rest of the facility she’d seen. Above ground, it was what you’d expect of a research base. Practical, scarce, but efficient. This was entirely different.
The elevator itself opened on a hallway that was blue carpeting, dark and sincerely Parisian, as if flaunting itself. There were a number of pedestals lining the hallway, and as she followed the pudgy doctor in front of her, she could see that most of them contained clear plastic vats with some sort of chemical-oxidator plugged into each.
She wrinkled her nose when she glanced at their contents. Like all sociopaths who had been spurned from society and forced to live as outcasts, he had developed his own intricate obsessions. In each jar bobbed an organism, or parts of organisms. She could make out something that was halfway between a pi
g fetus and something else. All of them were grotesque, monstrous. And clearly, none of them had survived.
Early patients and experiments, she realized, and tried to keep her cool. It helped to clench her fists and feel her nails sink into the skin of her palm. Ahead of her she saw the despicable Kroetsch cast another glance behind him, as if checking to make sure she hadn’t thrown up her lunch yet. Slimy bastard, she thought. But there was clearly a tactic at work here.
Whoever Dr. Golding was, he wanted to make sure that anyone who made it this far knew what was in store for them if they were an enemy. If I’m not careful, I’ll be embalmed alongside these guys, she thought, and tried to deflect attention away from her nervousness by adjusting her glasses again.
As they exited the hallway, it only got worse.
It was a wide round atrium, surrounded with several alcoves in the wall that housed giant touch-screen interfaces. A few other scientists were hard at work, and the humming of coolant engines and mainframes were like a gnat buzzing around her ears.
In the center of the room, suspended on several extending metal pallets, was a spherical container, much like the ones she’d seen in the hall, but larger. Pipes and hoses were fixed into it, and it was filled with a greenish liquid. Bubbles burbled up the side. Inside she saw what looked like a Wolf, floating dead or either comatose. She gasped.
In the right light, the huge containment pod looked like a giant fountain. The dream came back in all its lucid recollection – how blood had pooled from it, sprouting from the top. She felt sick, clenched the suitcase tighter, and checked her watch. Still twenty minutes before Laura attacked the perimeter. I have to stall.
“And who is this?” a soft, almost feminine, voice asked.
Sarah, in her lab coat, turned toward the sound and followed Kroetschs’ gaze to a slim man in his 40s. His eyes were sunken in, like he’d never gotten enough sleep, and his lower jaw hung open slightly and to one side, as if he were in a perpetual state of bewilderment. He was only starting to bald at the top, but orange hair was combed neatly to one side. Like everyone, he wore a lab coat that was open down the center. Simple plaid shirt, corduroy pants.
“Mr. Golding,” Kroetsch said, “this is… uh. Sorry I’ve forgotten your name again?”
“Dr. Lenore,” she said. He’s testing me.
Golding eyed her with concern, and she felt as if she’d wandered into a boy’s only club and was about to be ejected.
Kroetsch grumbled. “Guess Ray had a family emergency. Her badge verifies; it’s all in order. Checked it myself. Vladimir sent her.”
“Did he,” Golding murmured. “Ernesto Golding.” He extended his hand and she took it. The infamous doctor didn’t look so terrifying up close, but there was urgency in his eyes. Fumbling, Sarah held up the metal briefcase and his head moved to one side.
“You’ve brought the extra shipment,” he exclaimed, “may I?”
She let go reluctantly and followed both men toward one of the alcoves.
“Interesting research,” she blurted, and wished she hadn’t.
“Oh? Are you a fan of genetics?” he said.
She looked again at the thing in the containment pod.
“I dabble,” she said, “what exactly is it, though? I don’t think I’m familiar with this… particular type of research.”
Kroetsch gave Golding a screw face, but the older doctor held up his hand. “Trans-species genome coding. At least, superficially,” he let a smile spread over his lips, “I can’t go into too much more detail. That badge only gets you so far, apologies. You know how these things are. But I can tell you that my research is going splendidly. What you’re looking at here is neither human nor animal.”
“A hybrid?” she asked.
He shrugged. “If you like. A hybrid suggests the culmination of two different species. In reality, this is just one species, but there is something fascinating about its genetic make-up. You see, its DNA is in a constant state of ribosomal flux.”
She nodded, pretending to understand, and he held up his hands again.
“In other words, this… this creature, is both human and wolf. It’s not a blending of both so much as a species unique to itself. However, because of that ribosomal flux, it is capable of changing shape. It has two… human and wolf. In this chemically induced comatose state however, it lingers between the two.”
“Looks fearsome,” she observed.
“In the eye of the beholder,” he shrugged again. It was like a tic for him. “Our goal has been to reproduce this ribosomal flux. It’s not such an uncommon idea. Animals of all types have cycles, whether it’s menstruation, hibernation, mating. Their genetic makeup changes according to subtle changes in their biological chemistry and the environment.”
“I can’t think of a practical use,” Sarah said, grating. She didn’t want to raise any suspicion, but the idea of one of her own struggling through a nightmare in a plastic tank gave her chills. She tried to force the image of Connor or, god forbid, Cora behind that plastic. “I grant you, it’s fascinating, but I don’t quite see the use of it.”
Golding made a face of disgust.
“You can laugh, if you like. Everyone else has. But the future of humanity is locked in the DNA of these creatures. Imagine if you could implant those traits that flux into a normal human. They could double in strength, change at will. Become anything!”
Kroetsch leaned forward and whispered something in the inflamed Golding’s ear, and the flummoxed doctor straightened his collar and gave a polite cursory smile.
“My apologies,” he continued. “I’m sorry, what exactly was your field of specialty?”
“Quantum dynamics,” she said. If she had to, she could bullshit about it, and she suspected that Golding wouldn’t be able to tell.
“Right, and how do you know Vladimir? I know you told me, it just escapes me at the moment.”
He’s onto me now, she thought and tried not to blink. “I’m afraid that’s also restricted information,” she said, “so let’s just say high-tech weaponry and move on?”
Golding nodded. “Of course. If you’ll come with me, I’ll check the Laudacite and we can arrange payment. Vladimir is not a patient boss, is he?”
She shook her head and followed the doctor through doors in the back. Light green hallways where full of chlorinated light and she found her eyes trying to adjust as he led her into a big office. It was more like a nest. Books and papers were scattered all over the floor, against a couch in the back, on the table. Even on the windowsill and vents. Against the walls were tacked diagrams she couldn’t make heads or tails of. Unless those are heads and tails, she grimaced.
He put the briefcase down on his table and opened it. A dozen vials of a wet substance caught the light of the single bulb hanging from the ceiling and he let out a little laugh.
“Something funny?” she asked.
“No, not funny,” he turned and leaned against the desk, “but I am impressed… is that the right word? That you would come all this way and deliver it right to me. You surely know what this? Or what I’m using it for?”
She took a step back. The air had become solid, dangerous as a spider web. She felt like if she moved wrong he’d be on her before she could blink. “I know it’s a sedative. I don’t know what you’re using it for, and my client, quite frankly, doesn’t want to know.”
“You aren’t one of Vladimir’s,” he shook his head.
*
She swore and felt a dizzying wave of endorphins flood her system. Her legs became rigid, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. “He sent me to-“
“Stop,” Golding held up his hand, “let’s not play games, I hate wasting time. We scanned you the minute you entered the facility. Full-body. You’re not one of Vladimir’s… you’re one of them. But you’re something I haven’t seen before. What are you… another canine, wolf or fox? Or maybe something else entirely? Feline?”
She took another step back and heard footsteps closing
in. But not footsteps. They were sharp, like nails on a chalkboard. Claws. She whirled back at Golding and he shrugged. “I hit the alarm a minute ago. You can’t escape this place; I wouldn’t try. They obey me completely,” he said, “I’m willing to bet… you’re a Bear, aren’t you? You’re the one that came here last night… put a hole in my fence.”
She growled and took off the glasses, letting them break as they hit the floor of his office. “No,” she said, “that was my mate.”
“Oh! So two of you? Perfect,” he glowered, “I’ve never had a Bear before. These dogs are okay… they train well, but they lack that… what is the word I’m looking for? Dignity, I guess. Grace? You have dignity, my dear. Spirit, if you will. That’s what makes it worth it… the ability to crush it and bend it to your will.”
“You’re sadistic,” she said, raising her intonation as if she had only just discovered it.
“No, I’m a pioneer. I was laughed out of my position, scorned. That isn’t science! Science is a constant question, a begging of the question… that is what I’m doing, Doctor Len-“ he stopped and grinned, “should I keep calling you that?”
Sarah let the lab coat slide off her shoulders, and pulled up the sleeves on her shirt. She could hear a clicking sound as Golding’s “pets” made their way down the hallway. She absently looked at her watch. Still five minutes.
“If you’re thinking about changing, I would advise against that,” Golding said, pushing off his desk and swaying on his soles. “If they sense any animal scent, they’ll attack. Tear you to pieces, all over these walls, and I won’t be able to stop them. As long as you stay, just as you are… they’ll listen to me.”
She froze and heard a gruff sound of breathing behind her, and a silhouette she had seen in the flesh appeared in the frosted glass of the office door. Two of them waltzed in, obedient as robots, although she could see their giant crusty noses sniffing the air, and the way they licked their lips when they passed. They both came and sat down beside Golding, who smiled and snapped his fingers.
In the full light, she could see that they were misshapen – probably a result of the drugs he’d given them to turn them into beasts, erasing their rational human minds. Their fur was thinner than actual wolves, grey and slicked back, and she could see their muscles were indeed bulging. Double layered. There was no way she could take on two of them, even in Bear form.