Pulse

by Danielle Koste

  “So, he’s not an alien, then?” Rowan asked casually, but her joke seemed to have missed Miller entirely, either because of her exhaustion or her distraction.

  Luckily, Phelps joined them, picking up her comment. “Your friend Mr. Davis will be disappointed.” He chuckled when Rowan smiled appreciatively. She clearly couldn’t tell Cameron exactly what was going on, but it was comforting to hear Phelps include him in a joke, regardless.

  Finding what she was looking for while they chatted, Miller finally butted back into the conversation, presenting Rowan with a folder. “He’s certainly biologically human, making the explanation for his abilities all the more fascinating, in my opinion.” She paused to let Rowan survey the papers, watching to see if the young doctor could figure out what she was seeing for herself.

  Rowan recognized the new image. “That looks like, the HIV virus?”

  The comment came out timidly, because she didn’t see the connection yet, but with her words Miller’s tired eyes glimmered as she nodded.

  “You’re absolutely right. We found this virus in his blood. While it looks like HIV, it’s acting distinctly different than we would expect from a virus, though.” She flipped through pages again, past reports and observation write ups, to blown-up microscopic photos. “Instead of weakening him, this virus is making him stronger.”

  Rowan gaped, shaking her head when the information didn’t work itself out in her brain. She was still slightly inebriated from the sedatives, unable to come to an explanation.

  Miller didn’t seem to mind Rowan’s speechlessness though, continuing with a fervor she shouldn’t have after staying up all night. “The virus works just as most viruses do, entering the bloodstream and reprogramming the host cells. This is usually a destructive process, but in this case the virus is improving cellular functions.”

  She flipped pages again, showing examples briefly as she touched on them before moving onto the next.

  “It’s increased oxygen capacity in his red blood cells, leading to better circulatory efficiency, easily explaining his increased muscle strength and dexterity, heightening his physical endurance and lowering his blood pressure. It’s also increasing the white blood cells’ immunity, making him stronger against infections. The virus is also cloning other cells along with itself. At the moment, the subject has triple the blood cell count of a normal human being.”

  Rowan exhaled, completely baffled with the flood of information. She took the folder from Miller, going back to take a second glance at the photos. “All that oxygen moving around his body, where is he getting the energy from?” She mused aloud while flipping through the folder.

  Miller was about to answer, but Phelps interrupted with a scoff. “Come now, Rowan. You must know that one yourself. Multiplied cells means multiplied hemoglobin. And what do hemoglobin need to transport all the oxygen?”

  If her hands weren’t full, Rowan would have hit her own skull with her palm. “Iron. Of course.”

  Miller continued off Phelps’ thought, directing Rowan to a page of numbers for her to look at. “His hemoglobin have a huge demand for iron, so we can only assume this is why he naturally craves blood.”

  “Amazing…” Rowan sighed the word, skimming the report while taking a drink of her coffee. “What about all the other nutrients he would need as a human, though?”

  “You’re asking all the same questions we had to ask ourselves about two hours ago,” Phelps chuckled, impressed that Rowan was covering all the same bases.

  “That’s one we can only really hypothesize about at the moment.” Miller said, offering a more concrete answer than Phelps. “We don’t know for how long he’s had this virus, if he contracted it or if he was born with it. Our best guess though, is blood became his main source of nutrients so early on, so his body was forced to adjust to the virus’ needs. Similar to how certain drugs can alter body chemistry, it’s very possible the virus altered his to provide only for what the virus needs.”

  Her explanation became slightly somber as she spoke, and Phelps translated the tone of her voice with his conclusion. “It’s safe to say, if this is the case, the virus isn’t just making him super human, but it’s possibly the only thing keeping him alive.”

  For some reason, that sentiment caught Rowan off guard. The subject was so powerful, it had never crossed her mind he was capable of dying like any one of them.

  She swallowed down her discomfort to probe the other doctors further. “Dr. Miller… You said he may have contracted the virus?”

  Rowan’s ill feeling must have shown on her face, causing Miller to misread its intention, smiling and offering a dismissive chuckle. “Oh, don’t worry, doctor. It’s not airborne. Much like the HIV virus, body fluids would have to be exchanged to risk any sort of infection. So, as long as you can keep from falling victim to his irresistible charm, you'll be totally safe.”

  The lewd undertone of her comment had clearly been meant to be sarcastic, and Rowan tried to fake a laugh while forcing her fingers not to shake. She convinced herself so thoroughly that he was just messing with her, so the reality was hitting her in the gut like a bag of bricks.

  “What about something like… Ingesting infected blood? Would it likely result in infection?”

  Miller stopped to consider for a moment before tilting her head into a nod. “Most likely, yes.”

  “Not getting cravings now, are we, Rowan?” Phelps chuckled with his joke to lighten the mood again. Rowan gave a weak smile but it was obviously colored by her discomfort.

  Attempting again to distract herself, Rowan pressed for more. “So, what’s on the agenda now that we have all this information?”

  Miller opened her mouth to reply, but Phelps cut her off, excited to give some of his own ideas. “I’d love to keep a team on the samples to further research what we have.”

  “You read my mind, Robert,” Miller replied, grinning. “We are also interested in finding out the origins of the virus, if you were up for another meeting with the subject, Dr. Platts?”

  Rowan’s throat tightened up again. “O-of course. I’m sure he would be interested in some of the information we’ve learned, as well.”

  “Fabulous!” Miller exclaimed, practically hopping in place. “It will be so fascinating to see what further things we can find. Maybe we can mutate the virus in some ways, make it provide the necessary iron for the hemoglobins, eradicating the need for the excess iron consumption? Don’t you think, Miss Platts?”

  Phelps scoffed, but what was supposed to be a laugh didn’t quite reach the proper tenor. “Careful, Margot. You’re entering the realm of talking about creating superhumans.” There was too much warning in his voice.

  Miller turned on her heels, her eyes going dark a moment before she smiled playful. “Don’t be foolish, Robert.” Something thick lingered in the air though, causing an awkward lull to happen.

  Rowan filled it with a final question. “If this is a virus, will you two be working on a cure for it?”

  Phelps gave Miller another knowing look that Rowan had a feeling she wasn’t supposed to see. This time Miller’s smile was taut as she responded, “Of course. It’s our responsibility as doctors to do what we can to eliminate the virus and help our subject recuperate into a healthy, functioning human being again. Working next to another viral expert like Phelps, it shouldn’t take us long to manufacture a treatment for his condition.”

  As she had done before, Rowan entered the security door and listened to the automatic latch grind into place behind her, trapping her with a monster. There was something different this time, though. Discomfort still lingered in her stomach, and her shoulders were stiff from nerves, but the fear that usually shook her bones was strangely absent.

  Perhaps she was simply accustomed to being in fear now, or perhaps she was just realizing that the monster locked up in this room was no more terrifying than other prospects that had recently been presented.

  Rowan reassured herself that she was letting her though
ts get carried away, tangled up with the subjects patronizing words from the night before. She trusted her fellow doctors. She trusted Miller. Any doubts she had were ones he put in her head, ones he wanted there to play with her, and she refused to let them stick under her skin.

  The door in front of her unlocked, and Rowan focused herself on the task ahead. She had been told to tell him about the virus and find out about his past, so she hoped The Wolf was feeling chatty. She adjusted her grip on the pair of folding chairs she held, then pulled open the door.

  He was standing just on the other side, waiting. With his shoulder leaned against the wall, he looked so casual he could have been mistaken for innocent. As he saw her, he tilted his head a fraction and smirked. Despite his unintimidating facade, Rowan had to stop herself from taking a startled step away from him.

  “Good morning, doctor.” He obviously enjoyed Rowan’s apprehension, trained eyes following her as she fidgeted with the cuff on her wrist. With a voice a fraction lower in tone, he taunted, “Are you going to come out of your hole, little mouse?”

  Rowan glared, frustrated that he was keeping up with his antics and that they were continuing to affect her. She huffed and picked up the folding chairs, moving towards him to enter the room with determination.

  When she neared him, he stood straight, blocking her path so she was forced pass uncomfortably close to him. While slipping by, she sensed him lean closer to her, hearing him inhale. Her skin crawled, and she felt a moment of panic, hurrying passed and forcing her back to a wall again.

  There was something already unsettling about being smelled by someone, but when that someone was smelling her because she’d make a good lunch, it was a whole different type of unpleasant.

  He chuckled under his breath, the laugh turning into a toothy grin, pleased by the reaction he’d gotten with his behavior. “You smell particularly tempting today.”

  Rowan tried not to react, although she was sure her discomfort was already visible. She cleared her throat, setting her shoulders straight to try and find some confidence. Her concern made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up though, and she had to ask, “Are you hungry?”

  “Are you offering?” With his question the subject's gaze flashed with sick humor, and Rowan threw her empty hand up around her neck, hiding the pulsing veins safe from his devouring eyes. He gave her another smile that was all teeth and danger. “If I behave myself, do I get to taste you again?”

  His words made her skin crawl a second time, a hot flush pricking up her neck and onto her cheeks. Rowan flinched when he reached out towards her, but he simply took hold of one of the folding chairs and pulled it from her grip.

  She tried to force herself to relax. With her back glued to the wall, she watched as he dragged the chair with him to the center of the room, unfolding it and sitting down lazily. It took Rowan a moment longer to compose herself and follow his lead.

  “Always,” he said, while she settled across from him.

  Rowan stumbled on her tongue briefly. “Pardon?”

  “The answer to your question. Am I hungry. I’m always hungry.” He had a smirk on his lips, but the look didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But at least you doctors are feeding me enough that killing someone seems… Counter-productive.”

  Rowan didn’t like the way he’d chosen to phrase that, but she at least appreciated the honesty. It seemed that maybe she’d get a conversation out of him, after all.

  She cleared her throat, twisting her hands in her lap. “Well, why I’m here might make you slightly more inclined to curb the appetite a little longer.”

  He seemed to appreciate her attempts at informality, but obviously for the wrong reasons. It was a challenge to him: what did he have to say to scare her? Tilting his head to the side, his teeth peeked out from behind his lips.

  “It couldn’t hurt. I won’t lie, since having your blood yesterday, I’ve been debating whether dying in here would be worth finishing you off.” His words were delivered purposefully, making sure she wouldn’t be able to keep up the almost-civil banter.

  They were effective, draining the color from Rowan’s face. “You said having my blood would help.”

  More wolf teeth. “I guess I was wrong.”

  Rowan fidgeted in her chair, feeling hyper aware of the bare skin at her collarbone and wrists. She pushed her shoulders up, discreetly adjusting her sleeves, trying to hide her veins like an addict hiding track marks. He was not giving her any physical signals to be scared, but there was always a part of him that looked at her like something to devour, and it was that look that made her so nervous.

  His effect on her showed in the weakness of her voice as she tried to change the subject. “Thanks to the samples I took yesterday, we’ve managed to learn quite a bit about your condition.”

  “My condition? Am I sick, doctor?” This was the biggest he’d grinned since the day she first saw him, obviously self-satisfied with his joke.

  “In more ways than one.” Rowan fired back the retort without thinking, her nerves getting the better of her. She shot her eyes to his in mild horror, but luckily she was greeted with the gleam of a laugh. She resisted a relieved sigh, and continued. “You have a virus. We expect you’ve had it for a very long time, and it’s the root cause of basically everything different about you.”

  He tilted of his head as he repeated her words. “A virus?”

  Rowan bit her lip, unsure what to make of his neutral reaction. She continued cautiously. “Yes. In your blood. It’s complicated, we still don’t know everything about it, but to put it simply, it seems to be enhancing your body’s natural biology. It’s improving your blood cells, and as a result, the rest of your body is also improving.”

  He stood during her explanation, starting a slow pace towards the back wall of the room. His expression turned a fraction more curious, holding his arm out in front of him and pumping his fingers so the veins of his wrist bulged up, dark blue against his pale skin. “In my blood?”

  She wasn’t really sure why, but when he wandered away from her, Rowan got up to follow. She took a step towards him, nodding in response. “That’s where the virus started, at least. It’s been in you for so long now that it has influenced the chemistry of your entire body.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, the animal momentarily gone from his features. Rowan stared back, surprised by the innocent wonder in his ice blue eyes. “So that explains my senses? And my strength?”

  She was so wrapped up in his infectious excitement that she didn’t even flinch when he moved quickly towards her, holding out his wrists like they were trophies. She tried to keep the grin from spreading too far across her face as she elaborated.

  “We’re not completely sure about everything, but we are fairly confident that this virus is the root cause of every single one of your biological differences.”

  “And, my... Diet?”

  “We have a theory. The virus demands an influx of iron, and human blood would be a direct source to a high concentration of iron. It’s possible that if you’ve had this virus for most of your life, then it’s changed your body chemistry to only need the nutrients you get from blood. How long have you been like this?”

  Her question triggered something. Almost instantaneously, his elation disappeared, and the spark in his eyes went cold again. With the changed mood, Rowan became extremely aware of how close he was and took an involuntary step back.

  “I’ve been this way for a long time.” His answer was monotone as he put his hands back down by his sides and turned away from her to stride across the room again.

  His reaction caught Rowan’s curiosity, and despite the cold chill creeping up her back, she followed his pacing. “It doesn’t have to be like this any longer, though. We’ve made a lot of breakthroughs with viruses in the last decade. We could find a cure. We could completely eliminate the virus from your blood. You would be a normal human being again.”

  She wasn’t sure exactly what she had done. Maybe it was
their proximity, or the way she leaned closer to catch his downcast gaze, attempting to make some sort of connection with the human she knew existed somewhere inside him that she had just seen written all over his face. Whatever she had done wrong, it was obvious immediately. Rowan watched the blank expression on his face going dark, like storm clouds rolling in.

  “A cure? To fix me?”

  She regretted the eye contact immediately. His gaze cut through her like her scalpel had his skin, leaving her shocked and tongue twisted. She tried for words, but they rolled around in her mouth, and nothing close to comprehensible escaped.

  “Because there’s something wrong with me? Because I’m not normal, like you?” With his question he took a purposeful step towards her, forcing Rowan to retreat, her body stiffening defensively with the sudden spike of nerves. She had started to become accustomed to his scare tactics, to his sly grins and perfectly placed suggestions that made her heart race and kept her uncomfortable. She had even gotten used to seeing the animal in his wide, black pupils, and the way he looked at her like something he would kill one day.

  Something was different this time, though. Normally his behavior was so calculated, controlled, but not this time. The way his voice shook at the end and how his gaze burned her skin like a lit cigarette: It told her this reaction was not rehearsed. This was a genuine emotion, anger, and brought back the familiar terror of the first time Rowan walked into the room with him.

  “You’re ill. You, you have a virus.” She tried to stay calm, but her lips trembled as she spoke.

  He didn’t seem to care any longer that he was scaring her, though. He wasn’t enjoying it like all the times before, when it had been just a game to see how far he could push her psyche. He didn’t even seem to notice her wide, unblinking eyes as he tilted his head to the side and gave a small, low chuckle that sounded somewhere close to insane.

  “I’m not ill. Last time I checked, sick people can’t crush metal, or your throat, with their bare hands.” With his threat, he clenched his fingers into a tight fist, adding to their intent.