by Gayle Katz
“But none of that would have happened if I hadn’t come here, looking for Jack. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t know that. Samir could have still run into trouble with them. He was always trying people’s nerves and seeing how far he could push them.”
“I guess.”
“And if you didn’t come here, we would never have met.”
“You would have been better off. All I’ve brought you is heartache and misery.”
“You opened up to me. You reminded me what it feels like to be wanted again. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
“You’ve done so much for me and I’ve been such a burden.”
“You have enough to worry about, yes? You’re not a burden, and nothing that’s happened here is your fault. And again, even without you, Samir probably would have sealed his fate. He was reckless, constantly testing himself in dangerous situations. That’s just who he was.”
“And I’m sorry about us.”
“Us?” he chuckles. “As for ‘us,’ I get it. You were alone. I was there. And I know you were just trying to help Jack. You needed to focus on that. I was just a distraction.”
“No. You weren’t a distraction. Not at all. You were… are… kind and caring. And I’m sorry. For everything.”
“I don’t blame you for anything, Jane. Life happens and we each make our own choices. I made mine.”
“Yeah, but now everything’s changed. Jack is with something or someone who he thinks is me. She looks like me, sounds like me, and acts like me, but it’s not me,” I choke back my tears. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I’m losing my faith… in everything.”
“Bingo!”
“What?”
“Sorry, I just opened the locked drawer.”
“That’s good. We should hurry. I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be safe in here,” I grab a chair to help me get back on my feet. Once up, I stumble over to Damar at the desk. He’s rummaging through files. The clone runs over, trying to help, thinking I’m going to fall, I guess.
“You sure you’re OK?” She asks.
“Uhhh… I’ll be fine for now. Thanks. I’ve been through worse.”
“There are a ton of files in here,” Damar says.
I brush back my matted hair. “Lemme see them.”
“Sure. Here. Take a look at these,” he says as he hands me a stack of files. “Why don’t you take a seat here,” Damar pats the main chair behind the desk, “scan through the papers, and I’ll keep searching through the filing cabinets to see what else I can find.”
“Sure. Good idea.” My fingers grab the first folder from the drawer. It’s old and yellowed. The tab on it says: Prof. Ben Carter – Research Grant.
As I open the folder, I see a letter on Scrycor letterhead congratulating the Professor on being approved for a research grant to study and cure bone cancer. It goes into more detail, talking about how this cure will be a step forward for the world. And it’s signed by Scott Cameron Roberts, the Founder and CEO of Scrycor. There are also medical records for Roberts. Apparently, he was dying of bone cancer. He needed the cure for himself. That’s probably why he sponsored the research grant.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw next – my old medical records from when I was accepted into Scarlet Peak University. Digging deeper, I find more current information, such as that I’m married to Jack, our home address, phone numbers. “What the? I mumble to myself.
I put the folder aside for a moment and stare ahead. I haven’t thought about the Professor in forever. Geez. The zombie epidemic has been going on for way too long. I can’t believe it’s been almost ten years since the first outbreak. I pick the folder back up and something falls out. It’s a work badge. You know, one of those hard plastic placards you scan to gain access to a door or clock in. I pick it up and see Brie’s picture on it. I also notice it’s a Scrycor badge. She works for them, too?
Damar comes back with a little handheld tape recorder. “You might want to listen to this. It’s labeled ‘Professor’s Log’ and dated about a decade ago.” He hands it to me and I immediately push PLAY.
“January 31st: We’re close to a breakthrough, but cracking Jane’s DNA is proving more difficult and the reps from Scrycor keep pestering me. Damn! I tell them that tinkering with human DNA can’t be rushed, but they don’t listen. I’m going to stand my ground and make sure I secure the time I need. We need to do this slowly, methodically, and step-by-step.”
I hit stop on the recorder. He’s talking about me. Hearing his strong and commanding voice freaks me out and brings back so many memories from school. As his student, I was infatuated with him. His voice. His looks. His brain. What he turned into was such a tragedy. I sigh and press play again, anxious to hear what he was thinking.
“February 2nd: I believe we finally have the cure, but we still need to do more tests and perform clinical trials to ensure that we have a winner. Without proper testing, we could make things far worse for people.
“February 13th: The results of the clinical trials are promising. Now that we have a potential cure, they want to know how I developed it. I know that they gave me the research grant, but releasing genetic modification information might not be the right thing to do, especially since we haven’t had any human trials. I’m not sure I can give them what they want – at least, not yet.”
Genetic modifications? Is that what they’re doing here? I’d never heard him sound like this before. He’s worried. And rightfully so.
“February 22nd: Scott came to the clinic today. We started him on the treatment. He took to the cure well, at least the first dose, but now he wants more. With his new lease on life, he wants to live forever. He thinks all we have to do is splice a gene here and there. It’s not that easy, nor do we know what modifying other genes will do to a human body. I don’t think I can comply with his wishes. The grant was for the cure, and that’s what I believe we’ve developed.
“February 29th: Scott really wants my work. They’ve offered to triple my fee if I release my notes and research to them. I want the money, but I can’t accept it if it means my work may fall into the wrong hands. I’m going to decline their offer. I hope they don’t get too pissed off at me.
“March 1st: The meeting today didn’t go well at all. They definitely weren’t happy with my answer, but I already knew that was going to happen. What’s surprising is that they still want to fund the research. They want me to stay on the team and help them push forward. I’m a little suspicious about their motives, but as long as I still have control over what happens, it’s probably OK.
“March 3rd: Scott came to see me today. He brought one of the cancer survivors who we cured. He showed me what Mason looked like before the cancer. He was strong and strapping. The cancer turned him into a little runt of a man. Now he’s getting back to his physical peak, but the progress is too slow. Scott says he wants to see how else we can improve the human body. Mason says he’s willing to do whatever it takes to be bigger, stronger, and faster again, but he wasn’t very passionate about his request. I wonder if Scott was coaching him on what to do? I told them I’d have to think about it. Scott seems frustrated with me.
“March 4th: Scott is pleading with me. I refused his request at first, but then his persistence won me over. The first few genetic tweaks I made cured his cancer, but going further, to make him stronger, is proving difficult. I told them that mucking around with a person’s genes isn’t the ethical thing to do and we should proceed with caution. He wants me to continue.
“March 5th: Following instructions to push the boundaries of our knowledge, I tried a few experimental procedures. Mason was fine at first, becoming stronger, but now he’s also becoming violent. His body temperature has dropped to dangerous levels and his skin is turning gray and ashy. His eyes are hazy. I’m trying to reverse what I did, turn off the genes I turned on, but I don’t think I can. I’ll keep trying, but I just don’t know.”
Th
e Professor is starting to sound desperate. The cool and collected man I knew seems to be disintegrating. His speech and language are becoming frantic.
“March 8th: Despite my setbacks with this young man, they want me to continue my experiments in genetics. I may, but for now they’re on hold. I have to find a cure for whatever is happening to Mason. That has to be my priority. He’s turning into some sort of wild creature as I speak. I have to try to help him before it’s too late.
“March 11th: Crap! I’ve fallen behind in my reports. Scrycor is pulling my funding and I have to shut down the lab. No money means no research, but I have to keep going. This guy’s life is depending on it. I can’t let him down. Jane! Why are you hiding your DNA secrets from me?”
This isn’t good. He sounds like the assertive professor I know, but he’s obsessed. He seems like he’s getting more confident again, despite everything falling apart.
“March 12th: Dammit! The lab’s been ransacked. Luckily I hid all my notes and research. If they fall into the wrong hands… I don’t even want to think about that. I’ll continue the duplicates in audio here. I know that those jerks at Scrycor did this, or at least hired goons to ravage my lab. I don’t understand why they can’t let me try to cure my patient.
“March 13th: I was able to concoct a potential cure. I’m going to inject it into our patient and see if it helps. Please, God. Make this work.
“Another entry from March 13th: Things aren’t going well. As I was injecting the serum, the patient bit me. I didn’t think it was a big deal at first, but then I started to feel cold and sick to my stomach. What’s happening to this guy might be happening to me now, too, so I injected myself with the serum. I don’t know what’s going to happen to either of us.”
I can hear the crazy desperation in his voice. He’s breathing heavily into the recorder.
“March 14th: I’ll inject both of us again. Maybe a daily dose of the serum will help us remain stable and coherent?
“A second log from March 14th: The color started to return to the patient’s skin, which is a step in the right direction, but it doesn’t seem to be long-lasting. I don’t know why the serum only staves off the infection temporarily. So many thoughts are swirling through my brain. I-I can’t focus. I’m not able to think clearly right now. Maybe some sleep will help. I can do this! I just have to focus on one task at a time.”
I let the recorder run, but there aren’t any more logs from the Professor. I push STOP on the tape recorder.
Chapter 12
________________________________________
“Damar?”
“Yeah.”
“My professor mentions Scrycor. They were the ones behind his research and possibly the initial outbreak. The Scrycor name and logo were also in a zombie vaccine commercial I saw on TV and on the zombie tissue sample I stole. Remember? It was printed on the outside of the canister in the picture that the Rat gave me.”
“Wait. Are you telling me that’s what was in the cylinder? Zombie material?”
“Yeah. I didn’t find out until it was too late.”
“Crap. That’s soooo not good.”
“I know, I know. Don’t remind me.”
“How do they have all of this information here? I wonder if Scrycor runs this lab. Like I said, our intel told us that this was a Brotherhood site.”
“Maybe it’s both.”
“Both? Well, we have to find out,” he says as he pulls out even more folders with the Professor’s name on them. “There’s a whole file here just with his notes. Maybe this is the research they stole from him. Might prove to be some interesting reading.”
“Yeah, it might be. Listen, I’m getting tired,” I say as I lose my balance.
“OK. You’ve had enough excitement for one day,” he says as he and my clone both catch me before I hit the floor. “We’ll take these with us. We’re leaving now. We have to get you out of here.”
Damar grabs all of the folders and wraps them together with a rubber band. He takes my hand and we exit the office, but something is wrong. The hallways are now dark, with red lights flashing.
“They must know we’re missing.”
“Or, my guys are creating a stir. Either way, we need to get out of here, and fast.”
He pulls us close and we barrel down the shadowy hallway. We see some guys dressed up like military or paramilitary who look armed to the teeth following one of Brie’s lab coat lackeys. To avoid them, we take shelter and hide in the darkness of a doorframe.
After they pass, we continue our journey until we come to a bend in the corridor. We peek around the corner and see nothing, except an exit sign.
“There we go. Hello, exit sign,” Damar whispers. Bolting down the hallway, we’re halfway down when we see Brie appear almost out of nowhere. There she is, blocking the exit with guns and thugs behind her.
“Jane!” Brie shouts. “And now twice the nuisance since you’ve found one of my experiments, but who’s your friend?”
“None of your business,” I shout back as best as I can. “Get out of here,” I whisper to Damar.
“No way. I’m not leaving without you.”
“I hate you, Damar. Just go! I won’t be able to live with myself if I get you killed, too.”
“Damar?” Brie chimes in. “The same one who leads these damned rebels? The ones who have been a stiff pain in my neck?”
“Just go!” I say. “They just want me. I can hold them off, distract them so you can get out of here!”
“Come with me,” Damar says, ignoring Brie and her group of thugs.
“Jane… Jane… Jane…” Brie says in a condescending singsongy manner. “You can’t leave. We won’t let you. We’re not done with our research. Your job isn’t finished.”
I look down at my feet and then up at Damar.
“Tell you what - we’re not unreasonable. If you come with us without a fight, we’ll let your boyfriend go, even though we should kill him. Your decision.”
“I-I-” I mumble.
Suddenly, Damar grabs me and the clone, turns us around, and we head back down the way we came. We hear shots fired, but ignore them and scoot out of there as quickly as our feet can carry us.
“There has to be another way out of this place. Move it!” Damar yells.
As we hightail it out of there, I feel a throbbing pain in my arm and torso. The pain is too much to bear and I fall to the ground.
“Jane? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I say as I touch the pain point on my body and see red on my fingertips. “Is that my blood?”
“You’re shot. Hang on. I’ve got you.”
“No, Damar. Go. I’m only going to slow you down. Get out of here.” I push him away.
“Uh-uh. I’m not going to leave you.”
“You have to, or else they’ll kill you. I don’t want you to die. Listen, I’m already compromised. I need to stay and find out what’s going on. I need to get to the bottom of this mess.”
“It’s not worth your life!”
“What life? I-I can’t live like this.”
“Don’t say that. If I leave, you have to promise that you’ll do everything you can to stay alive.”
“They won’t let their prized test subject die. That would slow down their research.”
“I’ll figure out how to get you out of here,” he says as he kisses my cheek, grabs as much of the paperwork as he can, and speeds down the rest of the corridor with my clone.
I watch them run for their lives. A smile creeps onto my face for the first time in a long while. I’m happy knowing that he’s going to get away. Then the pain surges again and I can’t move. On my back, still naked with only Damar’s coat covering me, I’m bleeding. I see Brie standing above me. Her blonde hair is now dark. Is she wearing a wig? Did she dye her hair? She’s starting to look a little… like me… and it’s freaking me out.
“What are you doing, Jane? Did you think you could outsmart me? In your condition, you’
re lucky if you even survive.”
“Then let me die or kill me if you want. It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t care what happens to me. You’ve taken away everything I care about, anyway.”
“Not true. We let your boyfriend go with one of my creations no less. And don’t be so melodramatic. Kill you? No. I wouldn’t think of it.”
“Then why did you shoot me?”
“We needed to slow you down. Like I said, we couldn’t let you leave, but we also didn’t shoot to kill.”
“But my whole body hurt before you shot me.”
“That’s understandable. You’re just in the process of changing.”
“What are you talking about? I’m changing? Into what?”
“Into a stronger, better human, but I’m not exactly sure, to be honest. We haven’t had any subjects survive this long.”
“How many other people have you done this to? More than the people I saw loaded into the vehicle?”
“Good question. I’ll have to get back to you. Let me just repeat what I said before. Experimentation is the best way to move science forward. Testing to see what works and what doesn’t, that’s the scientific method at its best. And there’s no better way than live subjects to see if your hypothesis is valid. What’s the cliché again? Sometimes you have to break a few eggs…” she muses, ignoring my question.
“We’re not rats.”
“Of course not. Humans are better test subjects than rats.”
“W-Who are you anyway? Why do you have my professor’s paperwork and a Scrycor badge with your picture on it?” I ask as I try to stand up and face her on her level. I’m holding my side because the gunshot wound is so painful.
“So you got into my office? My, my. You’re quite the resourceful one.”
“Just answer my question.”
“Nah, I don’t feel like it. Unfortunately for you, I’m not taking any more questions. And it really doesn’t matter, anyway.”
“Did you work for them? Are you working for them now? Or, did they fire you and now you’re all pissed off, disgruntled, and trying to get your revenge?”