Fall Prey: The Hunt

by Dallas Massey

  “Of course, sir.”

  Anoura fell unconscious in less than a minute after the lights went out, thankful to escape Desmond’s words and idiotic mannerisms. She had underestimated just how tired she was.

  * * *

  A tall, willowy man dressed in pure white clothing walked across a metal mesh bridge. He stopped, turning to place his hands on the railing, leaning in to survey the pit below. The man was ashen, even for a vampire, his skin and hair whiter than his lab coat. His eyes were a fierce, bright blue with a soft, serene quality about them, revealing a man content, regardless of what went on around him.

  His many specimens looked up at him from the vast, red-lit pit below, secured in their cages, an audience for their overlord. They called out to him in various ways, some with screams and howls, others with shrieks and moans, their appeals for release always going unheeded. Theirs was a filthy, wretched gathering of both man and beast, all with a defeated, mournful look in their eyes. All would have their purpose, whether collected because of a genetic anomaly or lab born, each possessing a specific genetic feature.

  “Sir,” said one of his lab assistants, virtually materializing beside him. “Your guests are here, along with your requested specimens.” The man was young with a look of naïveté in his brilliant blue eyes.

  “And what guests would those be?” asked The Surgeon, irritated. “I don’t recall asking to see anyone. I just wanted the requested specimens to be retrieved. I can’t imagine why I would forget something like that.”

  “I believe the one you wanted to see was named Anoura,” said the lab assistant, looking over the clipboard he carried. “She has proven herself to be quite the asset to her sector. She has commanded nearly all of your special request missions in that area for some time now. Anoura has been so successful that you have specifically requested that she and her associates be placed directly under your direction.”

  The Surgeon stared off into space for a moment, trying to remember.

  “Oh, yes, that Anoura!” he proclaimed, recollection in his eyes. “We really should do away with this whole single name re-naming scenario. The other members of the old guard thought it was such a great idea in the beginning, but now it’s just annoying. I haven’t been able to remember anyone’s name in such a long time!”

  “If you’re having such a high degree of difficulty with it, maybe you should take it up with The Master, sir.”

  “Hang The Master!” The Surgeon snapped, nearly grasping for his assistant, feeling he needed to remember his place. “I haven’t been granted an audience in ages. I’m one of the alleged ‘favorites,’ and I haven’t seen The Master in years. Not that I have time to muddle with such mundane activities anyway. I have a research facility to run!”

  “Understood, sir. Anoura and her associates should be down here shortly. I will leave you to them, sir.” The lab assistant turned to leave, leisurely making his way over the bridge.

  The Surgeon turned back around, admiring the sheer size and layout of the holding area where he stored his vast specimen collection. He was pleased with the lighting scheme most of all, as he had helped to design it. Red light, being of the lowest wavelength, was the least damaging to vampiric eyes and was the lighting he preferred most. It allowed the staff to work as efficiently as possible and for the specimens to see everything they did to them. The whole place was perfect in both form and functionality.

  The Surgeon checked his watch, looking up when he heard the sound of multiple footsteps approaching, one set quicker than the rest. Expecting a woman, he scowled when a splotchy-skinned man greeted him.

  “Hello, sir,” said the man, extending his hand to shake. “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you. I suppose you already know you are a legend within our organization, and it is an honor to be meeting you in person at last. You have a lovely facility down here, which I’m sure you operate with a considerable amount of efficiency.”

  “Yes, I am quite proud of this facility. I helped to design much of it.” The Surgeon had no intention of shaking the man’s hand. Instead, he stared him down with a cold, venomous look until he withdrew his hand.

  The man recoiled, confused.

  “It offers me the seclusion I desire, in addition to providing a large amount of space to store my specimens and the ability to carry out my research at any time, day or night.” The Surgeon frowned, regarding the man before him with a lack of recognition. “I welcome your compliments. Who are you?”

  “I’m Desmond, sir,” said the man with a smile. “I’m responsible for managing one of the slaughterhouses in the Midwest sector. I’m the one who has been doling out your special request assignments for Anoura and her subordinates.”

  “Good for you!” said The Surgeon with over-the-top sarcasm. “I still have no idea who you are.”

  “You surely have some idea about who I…”

  “Where is this Anoura I have heard so much about?” The Surgeon cut him off.

  “Hello, sir. I’m Anoura.” A shorthaired, leather-clad woman stepped around Desmond. She approached The Surgeon and extended her hand to him.

  “Ah, finally, the person I was expecting to meet.” The Surgeon took her hand in his and leaned down to kiss it.

  Anoura flinched when his soggy lips touched the base of her fingers, recoiling away the moment she had the chance, unaccustomed to the strange contact. If any of her subordinates, or even Desmond, dared place their lips on her in such a way, they would come away with a broken nose.

  “Now, where are my requested specimens?” asked The Surgeon, shooting Desmond a deadly glare.

  “Here are the requested specimens, sir.” Desmond cringed.

  Luther and Mara shambled around him with the pet carriers, setting them down on the bridge.

  “Let’s see what we have here.” The Surgeon walked toward the two carriers and squatted down to look inside. “Yes, two young, heterozygous Sickle-cell disease gene carriers. I will have to do a check of their medical data to make sure. Their blood will be perfect as a negative control in some of my experiments, among other things.”

  The Surgeon rose back onto his feet, turning his back to them, searching the holding area for something.

  “One of my assistants has to be around here somewhere. That’s one of the few things The Master is good for: making sure you have plenty of personnel. Unfortunately, quantity comes at the cost of quality. It never fails that every time you need them, you can never find them. It looks like it could be a while before I have someone up to retrieve my specimens.” The Surgeon turned back around to look directly at Luther and Mara. “We’ll just set them here for the time being.”

  “May I ask what your interest is in these particular specimens?” Desmond interjected. “All your research is quite fascinating, and I’m sure you have something extraordinary planned for them.”

  “Would you kindly remove your lips from my posterior?”

  “Beg pardon?” asked Desmond.

  “Oh, you heard me.” The Surgeon’s voice went flat. “No one likes a butt-kisser. All your pleasantries are just exhausting.”

  Anoura fought to hide the broad grin she now displayed by staring at the ground, but it was just too much for her. She let out an audible snort as she suppressed her laughter. She glanced up at Luther and Mara, finding similar expressions on their faces.

  “I… I…” Desmond stuttered. “My apologies, sir.”

  “Besides,” The Surgeon snarled at him. “I already said they would serve as negative controls.”

  The Surgeon gave Anoura, Luther, and Mara an awkward smile, turning off his rage.

  “However, I suppose since a few of you are about to become part of my staff shortly, there’s no harm going into more detail. I plan on carrying out a full analysis of the specimens’ DNA to confirm what I gathered from their stolen records. After all of that is completed, we’ll keep them in holding until we are ready to use their blood and clone their DNA. We won’t have much use for them after that. I gue
ss we’ll pump them full of hormones to grow them up quickly and feed them to the staff. We’re a little backed up, so it may be a while before we get to them.”

  “Hey!” The Surgeon reacted as though he experienced a mood swing. “Over here, you useless bloodsucker!”

  “What can I do for you, sir?” asked the lab assistant, standing behind the group gathered on the bridge.

  “Oh, isn’t it obvious?” The Surgeon’s voice was sarcastic as he slid a gloved hand down his face. “I need you to find someone to help you take these carriers containing human specimens to the holding cages.”

  “Have you fed them yet?” asked the assistant.

  “No, we have not,” said Desmond. “They have been sedated for several hours.”

  He turned to Anoura, who nodded for confirmation.

  “They have not been fed in that time,” she said.

  “Yes, I expect you wouldn’t have fed them as of yet.” The Surgeon looked thoughtfully at his cornered assistant. “Very well. Have these specimens redressed, disinfected, and then fed. I expect they should come out of sedation very soon, and once conscious, they will likely begin to whine for food. The whining is always so irritating.”

  “As you wish, sir,” said the assistant. “I will be back with assistance shortly, and we will fulfill your request.” He turned to leave, hastily making his way back across the bridge in the direction he had approached.

  “Sir,” said Anoura, doing her best to sound humble. “It looks like you have plenty of assistants here to help. Why have us brought all the way out here when our skills would be better utilized in the food procurement sector? We are better out in the field. Why go through with our transfer?” Anoura intended to sound as though she didn’t want the protection he could offer. She didn’t want to appear weak.

  “I’ve had you transferred over to this sector because I need someone with your skills and abilities. As you have already observed, though I have a considerably large amount of help, most of them are rather incompetent. Honestly, if they weren’t vampires, I would use them as food. That’s all some of them are good for. I have put in for new procurement specialists several times, but all The Master ever sends me is more lab assistants, nearly all of them worthless. Seems to believe quantity is more important than quality. Since good help is so hard to come by up here, I had you transferred over to serve as my personal assistants.”

  “I doubt we will be much help in the lab, sir.”

  “Ha!” The Surgeon scoffed, causing Anoura and all her accomplices to jump back a little, fearful of what he might do next. “I highly doubt you would be any less adequate than any of my current personnel. They never fully learn their way around. Besides, you won’t be working in the lab at all. I still need some better lab assistants, but given my tumultuous relationship with The Master, I anticipate that won’t happen for some time.”

  ”Anyway,” The Surgeon paused before continuing, “due to the poor help I keep receiving, I have given up on requesting good assistants and decided to focus on procurement instead. You will keep essentially the same position. The only difference is you will no longer be involved in general food procurement operations. You will be fulfilling my requests only.” He looked directly at Desmond as he finished, singling him out with a sinister glare.

  “Yes, that does make sense, sir,” said Anoura.

  “I’m glad you understand,” said The Surgeon, looking genuinely pleased and then suddenly disappointed. “You’re not going to turn into an insufferable suck-up like him, are you?” He pointed at Desmond.

  “I would never dream of it, sir, nor would my other associates,” said Anoura, her rare grin returning.

  A strange noise suddenly sounded from within the far wall, starting as a low moan and quickly increasing in volume. It was unlike any other recognizable sound, the mechanical groans of a machine mixed with a bestial howl reverberating throughout the stronghold. The noise came from a living creature, one that steadily became more and more enraged.

  Though she couldn’t fully discern it, Anoura was sure she heard the words “I will find you” slowly repeated several times. She looked toward Desmond and then at Luther and Mara, seeing concern and fear written on their faces.

  “What is that?” Anoura yelled over the noise.

  “It is absolutely nothing to worry about,” said The Surgeon, unaffected by the noise and irritated by Anoura’s words.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Anoura retorted, unwilling to accept The Surgeon’s aversion to the question. ”Nothing that sounds like that can just be overlooked. So what is it really?”

  The noise subsided, steadily returning to a low, mechanical moan before finally going silent.

  “It is nothing to concern yourself with!” The Surgeon’s voice echoed throughout the cavern, no longer masked by the noise. “There is one thing I need to make completely clear,” he snarled. “One condition of your service to me is that you will not be permitted to ask any questions regarding that noise. You may ask me about anything else, but never that noise. In addition to this, you are not to interfere with any of the experiments performed within this facility. So long as you abide by those two rules and do everything else that I ask of you, we should get along just fine. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly,” said Anoura, her usual severity returned.

  “How about you?” The Surgeon turned to Luther and Mara.

  “Understood, sir,” they replied nearly in unison. Luther saluted.

  “What are you still doing here?” The Surgeon turned to Desmond, staring him down. “I only requested that Anoura and her immediate subordinates be transferred to my facility. I have no need for you.”

  “I… I was just leaving, sir,” said Desmond. He immediately turned away from the group and made his way back down the bridge toward the exit.

  The metallic howls of the creature behind the wall sounded through the stronghold once again, causing Desmond to sprint for the door.

  Chapter IX

  Cure at Cost

  Cyrus, awoken by the sheering pain in his head, found himself hanging upright, still shackled to the examination table. He opened his eyes slowly, anticipating another assault on his retinas by the room’s blinding lights, certain it would worsen his headache.

  A dull, red glow flooded his vision instead, barely illuminating the darkness. The low light gave the room an unnatural, eerie quality.

  Sweat poured down Cyrus’s face as his headache intensified. A vein in his forehead pulsated from his pain. He instinctively surveyed the room. His blurry eyesight made it difficult for him to make out the machines and furniture placed around the examination table. Cyrus gazed into the elongated mirror in front of him. He squinted as he discerned the dark figure glaring back at him.

  “Dr. Shen!” His rage exploded forth when he realized the dark shape was his reflection. “What have you done to me?”

  The procedure had stripped away all of what had made him human. Black scales replaced his hair and skin. His ears had grown pointy, like that of a cat, and his jaws were much more robust, suggesting an ability to crush bone. A powerful, hulking build replaced his frail body, and his formidable musculature rippled underneath his scales. The nails on both his hands and feet were weapons, blackened, sharp like knives. Even his eyes had changed drastically. An electric yellow had replaced the original deep blue of his irises, and his pupils were now slits, like that of a venomous snake.

  Cyrus snarled at the mirror, revealing a complete set of fangs, all of them needle-sharp. “What have you done to me!” He howled once more, now realizing his voice was deep and gravelly, as though he suffered a severe case of demonic laryngitis. The pain in his head reached its apex, bringing with it overwhelming madness and rage.

  “You’ll all pay for this!”

  He flailed and thrashed around in his bonds in a frenzy, the metal restraints bending and growing loose under the incredible force he exerted. Out of his insanity came a surge of primal hunger, the savory scent of near
by human flesh and blood drifting into his nostrils, fueling his blood lust.

  “I will find you and make you pay!”

  Cyrus flexed his right arm, tearing the loosened restraint from the bed, the metal clattering upon the hard tile floor.

  “I’ll rip you to pieces!” He continued the tirade, now assured he was more than capable of freeing himself.

  Cyrus ripped the left arm restraint from the bed with his free hand, brutally throwing it at the mirror in front of him, shattering it. He then turned his attention to his ankle restraints, kicking out with both feet, slamming the shackles against the wall.

  “Better run! Better run, or you’ll regret it!”

  Cyrus grasped the final bond around his middle with both clawed hands, pushing down upon it with his immense bulk, contracting his abdominal muscles. He pulled the restraint from its bolts with one last heave, dropping from the bed onto the floor. His claws made clicking noises upon the cold tile.

  Cyrus roared as he tore the tubes from his chest. Black blood spewed from the wounds, splattering all over the broken mirror in front of him.

  The alarms outside his room blared, alerting CyberGen personnel to his impending escape.

  Cyrus grabbed the monitor nearest him and slammed it against the wall. Machine parts and broken plastic exploded everywhere. He flew through the room like a storm, shattering tables and chairs, smashing through monitor screens.

  The floor quickly filled with wreckage and debris.

  Cyrus bellowed, lifting the upright examination table into the air, pile driving it back down into the ground. “This is it, Shen!” he thundered. He turned his focus to the heavy door at his right as he prepared to charge into it. “You’re all dead!” He launched himself at the door, slamming into it with his shoulder, ripping it from its hinges, and sending it crashing through the drywall of the adjacent hallway.

  The alarm blared above Cyrus’s head, and the red lights swirled over the darkened walls and ceiling.