Page 39 of Dark Shaman: Love Found (The Children Of The Gods #99)
DR. ZHAO
Z hao glanced at the cot in the corner of his laboratory and wondered whether he should fold the blanket. His mother would have been horrified to see the mess he allowed in his space, but she wasn't there to chastise him now, was she?
In the hotel, he'd had his suite cleaned daily, and he'd grown accustomed to the service. It had been nice staying there, and he missed the bar, but he was too exposed in the hotel, and he feared his creations going after him.
It wasn't just paranoia.
After receiving several threats, he'd switched his methods so he would never be with one of those monsters alone unless they were chained to a metal chair that was bolted to the floor.
When the promises of retribution for the rough treatment grew in number, and several of the threats included descriptions of his brains splattered across the walls, he'd also decided to move into the heart of the lab, where the walls were thick and the door could withstand anything.
There were no windows so the monsters couldn't get in.
If only he could get off this accursed island, but his only way out was in a coffin, and he wasn't ready for that yet. It might come to that, but he wasn't a quitter, and he would hold on for as long as he could.
Standing before the reinforced door separating his lab from the rest of the testing facility, Zhao took inventory of his defenses.
The door was a work of art—six inches of hardened steel with magnetic locks that could withstand a direct hit from a rocket launcher, and the walls were twelve inches of reinforced concrete, designed to contain explosions from without and within.
It felt like a tomb, or maybe a vault, depending on the perspective, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it would become his mausoleum. He was going to die in this lab, but at least it would be at the same location where he'd created his greatest achievement.
He'd even been too scared to visit the lovely Sheila. Perhaps he should organize a supervised visit and get some pleasure before his demise.
"Doctor Zhao?" The voice of Brovos came through the intercom. "The subject is secured and ready for you."
Zhao pressed the communication button with a hand that trembled only slightly, from caffeine, he told himself, not fear. "Confirm protocol."
Brovos was a good soldier, one of the normal ones, and he shared Zhao's concern about the enhanced ones .
"Titanium chains at wrists, ankles, and neck. Four guards present, weapons at the ready."
"Good. Subject?"
"Hozran, designation E-47."
E-47 meant enhanced subject number forty-seven. Zhao remembered when he'd been excited to reach double digits in his test subjects. Now, the numbers felt like a countdown to detonation.
He input the code that initiated the door opening. It moved on hydraulic hinges, silent despite its weight.
Hozran sat in the examination chair, looking like a caged serpent.
The chains that bound him were thick enough to moor a yacht, and yet Zhao had seen enhanced soldiers snap similar restraints when properly motivated.
The four guards stood at the corners of the examination room, hands on their assault rifles.
"Dr. Zhao," Hozran said, his voice carrying an edge of mockery that hadn't been there before the enhancements. None of them had been particularly respectful before, but now contempt dripped from every word. "Did you come to poke and prod your favorite lab rat?"
"Who said you are my favorite, Hozran?" Zhao pulled on latex gloves.
Today was going to be different, but Hozran didn't need to know that.
Instead of the usual enhancement formula, the cocktail Zhao had prepared contained sodium pentothal derivatives and his proprietary compounds designed to lower inhibitions and encourage truthfulness.
Thiscompound didn't just loosen the tongue—it dismantledthe architecture of deception.
E-MC2Xtargeted theprefrontal cortexandamygdala, modulating neurotransmitters to suppress the ability to liewithout compromising clarity.
He needed to find out what his monsters were planning.
Zhao tapped the vial labeled E-C2N; the liquid shimmered faintly in the syringe, a pale silvery hue that caught the flickering fluorescence of the lab’s overhead lights.
He filled the syringe with the liquid he'd prepared. "I'm going to inject your left arm."
Hozran laughed. "How polite. As if I have a choice in which arm you inject your poison."
The enhancement had made his veins more prominent, blue highways beneath skin that had taken on an almost metallic sheen. They were easy to find, and the needle slid in easily.
Zhao depressed the plunger slowly, watching Hozran's eyes for the telltale dilation that would signal the drug taking effect.
"There we go," Zhao murmured, stepping back to observe. "Just relax and let the chemicals do their work."
Within minutes, Hozran's aggressive posture softened. His eyes, while still alert, lost some of their predatory focus.
The drug was working. For now.
"Tell me about your week, Hozran," Zhao said, pulling up a metal stool. He kept it precisely six feet away—close enough to observe, but far enough to have a running start if needed.
"Training, eating, planning," Hozran said, then blinked as if surprised by his own honesty.
"Planning?" Zhao kept his voice casual, uninterested. "Planning what?"
"The future." Hozran's lips curved in a smile that the drugs couldn't quite suppress.
"That's vague. What kind of future?"
"A glorious one." The words came out slurred but forceful. "We are apex predators. We should be treated accordingly, and if not, we should take what we deserve."
Zhao's pulse quickened, but he maintained his detached and slightly bored demeanor. "What does that future entail? More whorehouse visitations? More booze allowance? What do apex predators consider their due?"
Hozran laughed, the sound looser now, almost drunk.
"How come you don't know? The cameras are watching our every move, the microphones recording every word.
" He leaned forward as much as the chains would allow.
"We're not stupid, doctor. Your drugs didn't just make us stronger.
They made us smarter, too. We know what's going on. "
"The surveillance is for your own safety," Zhao said, though the words sounded hollow even to him.
"Safety." Hozran snorted. "Yes, we're very concerned about safety. That's why we've developed a communication system that you and the lord can't follow. "
Zhao's stylus paused over his tablet. "Explain."
"Hand gestures." Hozran made a lewd gesture with his finger. His eyes were fully dilated now, the drugs hitting their peak effectiveness, but he was still able to deflect Zhao's questions. "Fascinating, isn't it? We are evolving beyond what you envisioned, doctor. Aren't you proud of us?"
"I'm very proud, and I want to know what you are planning." With the drugs at maximum effect, subtlety was wasted.
"A revolution," Hozran said, then his brow furrowed as if he was confused by his admission. "No, that's not right. Revolution implies overthrowing something to replace it with something else. We don't want to replace anything. We just want to transcend."
"Transcend what?"
"Everything. Everyone. It's like you said.
We are the next step in immortal evolution, Doctor.
" Hozran's head lolled. "Some of the others call you 'father' sometimes.
Others call you the creator or the architect of our ascension.
We have conflicting plans for you in the new order.
Some think that we should keep you because we need you to continue giving us the drugs.
Others think that we shouldn't rely on anyone, learn how to produce the drugs ourselves, and then get rid of you. "
Zhao's hand trembled as he made notes. "Do you have a timeline for your plans?"
"Soon. Not soon. Yesterday. Tomorrow. Time moves differently when you don't need sleep.
" Hozran's words were becoming increasingly disjointed.
"Did you know that we don't really sleep anymore?
I slept less than two hours over the last two weeks.
Sleep is such a waste of time. We can achieve so much more than the others. "
"Who's leading you?"
"Everyone. No one. We are one mind with many bodies. Or many minds sharing one purpose. It's hard to explain to someone limited by humanity."
The answers were becoming overly vague, and Zhao wasn't sure whether it was because Hozran was getting loopy or because he was evading answering precisely on purpose. He increased the dosage, pushing more of the compound into Hozran's system.
It was risky. Too much and he could trigger a seizure or worse, but he needed answers.
"Tell me the specifics of your plan," he commanded.
Hozran's eyes rolled back momentarily, then focused with disturbing intensity.
"First, we—" His body convulsed, foam appearing at the corners of his mouth.
"No. No, that's...that's secret. The secret plan.
Secret, secret, secret." His eyes cleared for a moment.
"When the revolution comes, you will be the first to die.
" A massive convulsion rocked Hozran, and then his body went limp.
"Is he dead?" Brovos asked, sounding hopeful.
"No, he's just unconscious." Zhao tried to maintain an even tone, even though his heart was racing and his palms were sweaty. "Take him back to the barracks. He needs to sleep it off. And bring the next subject."
Zhao watched as they unlocked the chains and carried Hozran's limp form out. He shouldn't take the threat too seriously. After all, the enhanced soldier hadn't slept properly in two weeks, according to his own admission, and that was a sure road to insanity. Once he was rested, he would stabilize.