Using Rohypnol was a brilliant idea, at least in her own estimation. Aaron already had a prescription for it to help his insomnia and, if an autopsy was done, it would only show as an elevated level. Just as if Aaron had taken an extra dose to try and fall asleep. She’d found that he had the prescription by going through the medical files the Corporation kept on all its employees. The company doctor had prescribed the medication to Aaron and had noted it on his file. At that moment, her plan had crystallized and Katrina knew exactly how she was going to kill him. There was a certain poetic justice in it as well. Never let anyone on the Council know your weaknesses.
“Well, that’s not really so surprising, I guess,” Katrina replied, pulling her attention back to the discussion. Only a couple minutes had passed since Aaron had first drunk the sedative and he wasn’t showing any significant signs of being affected yet. “To develop those abilities, one would need to be changed at a fundamental level or the drug would need to stay active in the body much like an immune cell. Still, I think you might be reading far too much into this. Every indication is that the organisms are simple and have no higher order of intelligence. So far, it appears to be a strange coincidence that they cause the development of superhuman abilities.”
“There are no coincidences,” Aaron stubbornly insisted, wiping a hand over his face again. He picked up his coffee and took another drink, resting it on his knee. Katrina had put quite a lot of Rohypnol in his drink so it should be kicking in very soon. Aaron’s words were starting to slur just the smallest bit and Katrina smiled to herself. “We are walking a very dangerous line with cliffs on either side. If we fall, it’s a disaster. For us and maybe for the rest of the planet too.”
“You’re being paranoid and excessive,” Katrina said, shaking her head. They argued back and forth for several more minutes, Aaron slowly sagging sideways on the couch. She had to admit, even with the drug working on his system and putting him to sleep, Aaron was still convincing in his arguments. And if the Council had been anything other than what they were, those arguments might have worked. But things were as they were and Katrina watched closely, waiting for the moment Aaron slipped under enough to inject him with the potassium chloride.
“Hold on, I need to go get the steak out of the oven,” Aaron mumbled when the oven timer dinged. Katrina nodded and waited while Aaron walked on unsteady legs into the kitchen. There were muffled noises and Katrina could only assume he was pulling out the steak and turning the oven off. A metallic clink announced that Aaron set the baking pan on top of the stove. He came back out and settled back onto the couch, picking up his coffee again.
As she watched, Katrina felt a sense of deja vu and remembered the last time she saw her predecessor. They were in what had been his office before Katrina moved in, sitting in red cloth armchairs where Katrina’s couch was now. He’d been rather fond of scotch and would often drink himself into a stupor at the end of the day. Katrina lost count of the times she’d come back in the morning to find him snoring away in his armchair.
That night, she’d brought another syringe filled with potassium chloride, confident that her elevation to the Council was assured and she no longer needed what had been her benefactor. Sitting with him and nursing her own glass of scotch, Katrina had felt like she was sitting a vigil for the man who’d given her a chance to make her own mark. It was the least she could do, really, before she killed him. She’d toasted him, clinking their glasses together before he’d downed his.
Several glasses later, he was snoring with head lolling to the side. Katrina stood up and blocked the camera she knew was in the office with her body, quickly injecting the potassium chloride through his belly button. She disguised the move by picking up his glass and setting it with hers on the table next to the crystal decanter the scotch was kept in. This had happened often enough before that it would cause no comment. Then, she’d simply left, walked out and headed home while her predecessor had suffered a heart attack from the compound.
Finally, about fifteen minutes since he’d taken the first drink of his coffee, Aaron slumped over completely on his side and fell asleep. He’d been in the middle of a sentence, still trying to convince her of the folly of continuing the experiments with the alien cells. Katrina had listened and made noncommittal noises, urging Aaron to keep talking. Again, it was the least she could do, keep this twisted vigil for him and listen to his final words. Even if Aaron didn’t realize these would be his final words. Buried deep down, below the ambition and ruthlessness and determination, beneath the ability to kill like this was a flash of compassion. It wasn’t something Katrina recognized consciously but it did dictate that she stayed here to listen. But now, with Aaron sleeping and unlikely to feel anything she did, was the time to do what she had come for.
Katrina stood up, first carrying her glass of water into the kitchen. The steak was cooling in its baking pan, still smelling delicious for all of that. She dumped out the water and set the glass in the sink, making sure that nothing of herself remained behind. Drinking the water had been absolutely out of the question as Katrina didn’t want to waste the time in washing the glass to get rid of her DNA.
Back in the living room, Aaron had started to snore quietly and Katrina manhandled him into a stretched-out position on the couch. She pulled his shoes and socks off, setting them next to the couch as if Aaron had done it himself. After a few second’s debate, Katrina decided to inject the potassium chloride in the webbing between his toes. If an autopsy was done, it was unlikely they’d look there as it wouldn’t appear to be a homicide. It was the work of just a few seconds to inject Aaron, the syringe going back into her purse with the bottle that had held the Rohypnol.
To complete the scene she was trying to build, Katrina placed a pillow under Aaron’s head and pulled a throw off the back of the armchair she’d been sitting in. She draped it over Aaron, adjusting it before stepping back and admiring her handiwork. It looked exactly as if Aaron had taken his sleeping pills and settled down on the couch listening to music to fall asleep. The steak on the stove could be explained away by the fact that he could have miscalculated how long it would have taken him to fall asleep. Katrina nodded once sharply, completely satisfied with her night’s work. Everything had gone according to plan and she would have nothing to worry about from Lucian.
She let herself out quietly, locking the door behind her. Walking quickly, again with a sense of purpose, Katrina made it to her car and unlocked it. She started it with a throaty purr and drove away, careful to obey the traffic laws and not speed. It wouldn’t do for her to be pulled over now. Someone might put Aaron’s death and her together if she was pulled over by a police officer.
Joining the light traffic heading into the city, Katrina let a vicious smile tug at her lips. It felt good to do that again, control someone’s life and end it when she chose. She hadn’t killed anyone since her predecessor, not seeing a need to. There was a heady rush she’d almost forgotten, a thrill that raced through her blood and made every second so full of life and vigor. Perhaps she would need to change her policy in the future. Perhaps a death here and there wouldn’t hurt. Well, it wouldn’t hurt her at least. Chuckling quietly, Katrina drove the rest of the way to her own apartment, pleasurable memories filling the quiet in the car.
Chapter 9
The second week of the trial dawned with a leisurely morning for me. Jane didn’t wake me early as she’d done for the first week and I enjoyed the extra few hours of sleep. If the six who had been sick for the past week followed the same pattern we had, they would be feeling really great and be waking up later in the morning. After a shower and getting dressed, I wandered out to the kitchen and made a bowl of cereal. I could tell I wasn’t the first one up as there was a plethora of dishes in the sink and the lingering smell of eggs in the air. But it was fairly quiet and I wondered if everyone was still recovering from the past week.
“Morning,” Billy greeted me, walking into the kitchen and settling down at the tabl
e across from me. “So, everyone was up and about this morning, looking like they were in perfect health. No one’s exhibited anything yet but it’s only a matter of time.”
“Morning,” I replied around a mouthful of cereal. “You’re certainly wasting no time. And it might be a good thing that no one’s showing anything yet. Maybe they all ended up normal and can go home.”
“You keep saying that but I don’t think you believe it any more than I do,” Billy commented wryly, shaking his head. “What are you so worried about, George? We’re safe and fine. No one’s arrested us or trapped us in a lab to experiment on us.”
“We’re fine, yes. At least for now,” I agreed, spooning up more cereal. I chewed meditatively while I considered my next words. Every argument I made sounded almost like whining and fear-mongering and that’s not what I wanted to put across. “But look at what happened with Sandra. This drug basically created a megalomaniac bent on gaining power at whatever cost. Amy and Michael are pretty much slaves to her every whim with the way she can control emotions. And the worst part about it is that they are completely fine with it because Sandra manipulates their emotions. They’re happily complicit in their own slavery, possibly not even realizing they are slaves.”
Billy was silent for a long time, considering my words. I used the time to eat more of my cereal and drink my orange juice. Dr. Carnesby walked through the kitchen at one point, a slightly worried expression on his face. He didn’t acknowledge us, or even seem to notice that we were there, really. Jane had been particularly close-mouthed about what was going on with him. I’d noticed that expression on his face a few times over the past week and asked the AI. But she’d dodged each of my questions and distracted me with something else every time I pushed the issue. Billy was still thinking by the time I finished my breakfast, so I just put my dishes in the sink and settled back into my chair. We were still alone in the kitchen and it was as good a place to talk as any. We’d hear anyone coming from either hallway before we saw them.
“You know, I’ve been wondering about that,” Billy finally said, looking off into the distance as he spoke. “If I can just find them, I may be able to do something about Sandra’s manipulation. I don’t know if it would work but maybe I could cut their minds off from their emotions or something? If we cut out that hook in them, Sandra shouldn’t be able to control them anymore.”
“If it works,” I said, shaking my head. I took a deep breath and my my hands clenched into fists on the table, fighting back anger and despair. And the shifting of my hands into hammers. That was somewhat new. I’d managed to control the shapeshifting that happened due to emotions before and thought I had it completely under control. That was something I was going to have to watch, especially as long as Wendy and Tabitha were here. They were the only ones we were all nearly certain were not going to develop abilities and we needed to keep this secret from them as long as possible.
“What are you guys looking so serious for?” Nick asked, coming into the kitchen from the lounge. He grinned at both of us and flopped down onto a chair. He looked very healthy, much better than during the last week. I couldn’t help but wonder what ability he was going to develop.
“Homesickness,” Billy lied glibly, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re looking much better now. Feeling better?”
“I feel great,” Nick replied, stretching his arms above his head. I had to hide a little smile as I saw him watching Billy carefully from the corner of his eye. “I don’t know what happened with the injections but I’m not sick anymore. I woke up this morning feeling like I could take over the world.”
“Well, let’s take it slow,” I smiled, fighting back a surge of terror. It was just a saying, that’s all it was. “You’ve got three more weeks here first.”
“I know, I know,” Nick replied, shrugging and dropping his arms onto his thighs. “I was really worried that that cold would have affected my voice or something but everything seems all right. My throat and chest were really congested and painful. But I practiced a bit in my room before coming out for breakfast. My voice is just as good as ever.”
“You said you were a music major, right?” Billy asked curiously, a note of warm interest in his voice. I took that as my cue to leave and wandered out to the living room. Whatever Nick was planning, what with his flirting and interest, Billy appeared to have no problems with it.
“Yeah, I did,” Nick replied, leaning forward and propping his elbows on the table. “You didn’t say what you were studying, if anything.”
“Medicine,” Billy replied promptly, letting his thoughts skim the surface of Nick’s. Yes, there was interest there. He wasn’t imagining it all. “I want to be a doctor.”
“That’s awesome!” Nick said, grinning at Billy. “What kind of medicine? Have you decided where you’re going yet?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Billy said, shaking his head. Even before the trial, he was torn between a few options for a focus. Surgery was at the top of his list but a few other specialties drew him lately. But now, would he even complete his education? George wasn’t being completely paranoid in his worries and Billy had an idea of the conditions they’d suffer under as lab rats. “What about you? I think you said something about opera?”
“My focus is in opera,” Nick nodded. “I’m a tenor and my dream is to perform on Broadway. Don’t know what kind of piece but I don’t really care, to be honest. I love to sing and I love the stories that can be told.”
Nick’s and Billy’s voices faded to almost illegibility as I walked into the lounge. Rose and Brandy were squished into one of the armchairs, Rose’s head resting on Brandy’s shoulder. They both looked somewhat tired, as if kept up a little too late the night before and waking up a little too early in the morning, but both looked healthy. Elyse and Darryl were playing checkers while Eric watched and offered suggestions to either one. I didn’t see anyone else in the lounge so the others must still be in their rooms. I picked out a movie to watch and popped it into the Playstation, settling into another armchair to watch it.
“Oh, I love this movie,” Brandy said as the opening scenes to Stardust played. “I watch it all the time.”
“I know,” Rose cut in dryly, nudging Brandy’s shoulder with her head. “I’m the one who has to listen to it nearly every time you watch it. I like the movie too but it gets a little boring after the fiftieth rewatch.”
“You know, I could say the same about The Princess Bride,” Brandy shot back, grinning and pressing a kiss to Rose’s temple. “How many times have you watched that movie in the last month?”
“I like to have something in the background when I’m doing something else,” Rose replied, cool dignity coating her voice. The dignity disappeared as she laughed quietly. “Besides, I like watching you say the lines along with the characters.”
Brandy laughed with her and both women fell silent to watch the movie with me. This was one that Amy had introduced me to after finding out that I’d read the book. I’d enjoyed it a lot and gave the movie a chance. It was one on the list of movies we’d watch for movie date nights and I’d come to love it. Though, watching it now brought up memories of Amy, memories of her laughing and smiling or saying the lines along with the movie. Her favorite part had been the flying boat. Maybe one day, when all this was finally over, we could sit down and watch Stardust again. Just the two of us together on the couch like we used to do. But I was only able to get about halfway through the movie before I was interrupted.
“George, Adam would like to speak with you in his office,” Jane said, her voice cutting in over the movie. I raised an eyebrow at Rose and Brandy, brandishing the controller to ask if they wanted me to turn the movie off. A headshake from Rose made me hand them the controller as I got up before heading down the hallway. It was a bit of a pain to walk nearly the length of the warehouse to get to Dr. Carnesby’s office but that was the layout of the building. I had to wonder if the people who’d designed it had expected problems and made it one giant ha
llway. There was really only one way to move in the whole place and, other than the bedrooms between the lounge and the kitchen and Dr. Carnesby’s office, it was one continuous piece. Notwithstanding the protections Jane offered, like the gas that could knock out everyone in the building. With any luck, though, that wouldn’t be needed this time around.
Billy and Nick weren’t in the kitchen anymore, their spots at the table taken by Wendy and Tabitha. They were discussing something about clothes and drinking hot tea, their faces animated. At least that was one good thing that might come of all the trials, new friendships. I doubted they would have met without the trial. After all, Wendy had just finished her first year and Tabitha had just finished her third. It was unlikely they would meet in any classes, especially since Tabitha’s classes would be very specialized her senior year. I vaguely wondered where Billy and Nick had gone and if I was right about what was brewing between them while I walked through the kitchen into the lab area. Dr. Carnesby’s office door was open and I heard voices inside. I let myself in, crowding into the small room next to Billy and Nick. So that was where they’d ended up. I smiled at them before the very serious expressions on their faces made the smile fade. I closed the door, my stomach twisting into knots at the possibilities.
“What’s wrong?” I asked suspiciously, glancing at Dr. Carnesby. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing.
“I was talking to Billy earlier and we were talking about embarrassing moments we’d both suffered,” Nick said, shifting uncomfortably. He crossed his arms straight down in front of him, one hand wrapping around the other wrist. “I was telling him that one time in elementary school, I’d come back from the bathroom with my zipper undone. The whole class laughed at me and I felt horrible about it. I said that I just wanted to disappear. Then I did.”
He let go of his wrist then, holding up one hand to show me. It was transparent and fading even as I watched. My mouth dropped open in shock and I could only stare at his arm, the fading now crawling up at a steady pace. He let it go until it reached his shoulder, his entire arm completely gone, before reversing it. Once his arm was completely visible again, Nick adopted the same position as before, wrapping his fingers around his wrist.
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