Page 6 of Sergi (Of Blood & Dreams #7)
Chapter Five
I cowered in the corner of the lab, focused on a spot on the floor as the screaming increased. S-272 sat next to me, his head down as well, but his leg touched mine. After three weeks of working with him, I’d come to recognize it as his way of connecting, especially when it got bad.
The first two weeks became a ritual pattern. The blood-spattered lab was always empty of staff, and we worked amicably and quietly. He’d yet to say one word to me other than his commands or to answer questions about the assigned task. There was no idle chatter.
Then, last week, after we’d cleaned the lab, we were told to wait because it would need to be cleaned again before the end of the day. No one wanted to waste time taking us back and forth from our cells. I wasn’t comfortable being forced to stay and had no idea what to expect. All I’d seen was the aftermath of blood, guts, and bits of bones.
S-272 had given me a quick glance, worry in his gaze, and maybe a bit of fear. Not for himself, but for me. He knew what was coming. When I thought back to the first time I’d entered the blood-soaked lab, S-272 had been sitting on the floor in a corner, just like we were now.
He must have seen what happened. Knew what the screams were from. That morning’s porridge made a gurgling sound, and I had no doubt I’d be picking up its partially regurgitated remains before too long.
When the double doors opened, a thin female her long hair piled haphazardly on her head and wearing a white lab coat, entered. Behind the wire-rimmed glasses her eyes were sunken, the whites touched with a light shade of pink. Her cheeks were sallow. She hadn’t slept well for some time. The increased workload seemed to be taking a toll. I wasn’t naive enough to believe it had anything to do with the loss of shifters.
Where were they getting them all?
I stifled a weary laugh. Well, I certainly knew where they found me. And the thought sickened me when I thought of the others sent before me and those that came after.
Two steps behind her had been a scrawny dude, probably her assistant. He was what I’d call a geek. He wasn’t as thin as the female, and though his skin was pasty, it appeared to be his natural coloring. His walk was more of a bounce. He was energetic, his eyes sharp with excitement.
Great.
Behind him were four males walking two abreast, the sleeves and pants of their uniform reflecting thick arm and thigh muscles. Most shifters would cross the street to avoid them.
In the middle of the four men was a young shifter male, maybe in his mid-twenties, dressed like the other males I’d seen—a brown pullover V-neck shirt and simple pants made of the same rough fabric as my shift and tied with a drawstring. His eyes were huge bright-blue orbs, and he stumbled every few steps. His wrists and ankles were manacled, and I smelled his anguish.
I took another look at his restraints. They weren’t just metal, they were silver. Of course. That would dampen his ability to get out of the cuffs. And though rage simmered somewhere deep within him, fear was taking control.
Did some survive the experiment? If they did, it was most likely a small percentage, considering how often we cleaned. And the female administrator had let it slip one day that another two-shifter team cleaned other labs.
To ensure the shifter had little room to struggle or attempt a shift, a silver collar an inch wide and half an inch thick was placed around his neck. Two long metal poles were attached to his collar, and a guard at each end of the pole held him in place while the other two guards cut the shirt and pants from him, snipping along the seams so another shifter could sew them back together. Waste not, want not.
Once he was naked, they removed his restraints and pushed him onto a platform and against a stiff metal back wall. His arms were pulled away from his body and clamped into manacles. Additional manacles were placed around his ankles; his legs spread a foot apart. They removed the poles and collar before stepping back as a cage door closed the shifter inside the structure.
The geek assistant picked up a string of black-coated wires that had been gathered over a machine. That was the first time I paid attention to the line of machines on either side of the cage. Each wire ended with a suction cup, and reaching through the square openings in the cage door, the assistant placed them on various parts of the shifter’s body.
I remembered the countless times I’d cleaned similar cords, laying them in a basin of bleach water until the blood dissipated.
After the cords had been applied, the assistant walked by each machine and turned it on. Within seconds, lights flashed, and while I couldn’t read the displays from where I huddled, various bits of information popped up on the screens.
The female, who I finally pegged as one of the scientists, stood at a counter. Several items were spread out over the steel countertop—bottles with various colored liquids, small vials of what looked like blood, and other items I couldn’t see from my position on the floor. I’d been so focused on the shifter, I hadn’t paid attention to where the items had come from. I assumed some came from cabinets where glass doors reflected similar bottles and some from a commercial-sized refrigerator that was locked with a keypad.
She filled a syringe with a viscous dark-red substance then handed it to the assistant before picking up her tablet and moving behind a glass divider. She wouldn’t want to get her nice, white lab coat spattered.
The assistant walked around the cage, and with every few steps, the geek actually licked his lips, practically wetting himself with anticipation. There wasn’t anything I could do to stop him, but I promised to rip him limb from limb in my nightmares.
“Come along, Leonard. We have more after this one.”
I would remember his name, if nothing else.
He finally selected a spot near the shifter’s lower abdomen, somewhere near the kidneys. I didn’t know if that was the only possible injection sight, or whether Leonard’s preamble pacing had been an act to instill fear into the shifter. It wasn’t necessary. The shifter struggled against his restraints. The whites of his eyes were enormous, and his pupils appeared dilated. A faint red glow shimmered behind the irises. His wolf had to be terrified.
The injection was administered slowly, and the shifter screamed in agony, the sound echoing around the lab. Neither the female nor the guards seemed to hear the wailing as they stared at the shifter. The cries of rage and fear didn’t register with Leonard as he removed the needle, staring up at the shifter, his tongue taking another lick of his lips.
He and the guards then moved behind the glass shield.
“Make note.” The female spoke out loud as she typed into the tablet. “Twenty cc of TA54 was injected into specimen 303 at nine thirty am.” She glanced up to study her test subject.
Nothing happened. For five full minutes, nothing happened.
It started with sweat. A light sheen covered his face, then his entire body flushed. He struggled against the restraints, his head turning to the right and left in a rapid succession as he screamed. His hands fisted and released over and over until they remained in a tight ball. He began panting. His eyes glowed a bright red. If he shifted in his restraints, it would kill him.
Then, suddenly, the screams stopped, leaving the lab in an eerie silence except for the beep of the machines. The shifter relaxed, his head hanging low.
The female’s interest piqued, and she glanced at the clock before typing furiously into her tablet.
Then a long, piercing scream came from the shifter. His head fell back against the cage, and his whole body shook as the flush that had dissipated returned. Blood leaked from his nose. His spasms increased. It seemed as if the shrieking went on forever. I leaned over to check the clock. It was nine forty-five. Fifteen minutes since his injection. The shifter’s entire body was red, as if his blood was trying to escape through his skin.
Liquid ran down his leg, and it took me a moment to realize he’d urinated, unable to control his body. For a moment, I thought I saw a change in the structure of his forehead. Had his nails grown longer? One moment he was beginning to shift, then his facial features returned to normal. Did they want him to shift or prevent him from shifting? What the hell was this experiment supposed to test?
I wanted to cover my ears to block out his tormented cries. The air was thick with his fear, resignation, and the worst—his desire to die.
I dropped my head and stared at the floor. I didn’t want to see what happened next. Not when I’d already seen the end result.
While I couldn’t look, I had to listen. I had to stand witness to this horror show. My wolf howled with its own pain. She wanted out, and it required every bit of control to keep her in. Sweat broke out on my forehead as I struggled to stay human.
A hand gripped my arm. I didn’t have to look, couldn’t look, had to remain focused, but I knew it was S-272 attempting to calm me. To keep my wolf locked down.
When the shifter howled, S-272 squeezed my arm so hard I thought he’d break bone. My focus turned to him. He was strong regardless of his apparent weakened and beaten state. My wolf howled inside, and I cried with her.
When I didn’t think I could take it anymore, there was a loud, spongy pop. The sound was followed by the soft, wet thuds of whatever was left of the shifter, and the return of silence.
Horror filled every cell in my body. What had been in that syringe?
Now, I sat in the same corner with S-272 by my side as we listened to another horrific death. This one was shifter 346. This was the fifth shifter who I’d heard, if not watched, implode from another failed test. I remembered each shifter’s number. After the second shifter had died that first day I’d witnessed the experiments, I stole a scalpel from one of the drawers, wrapped it to protect the sharp blade, and hid it in my room. I found a spot behind my bed where I carved numbers into the drywall. Each shifter who’d died on my watch.
After we cleaned up the remains of 346 and then 294, I was returned to my room for another congealed bowl of stew. I forced down the stale roll. When the lights went out, my wolf came out. She remained on the bed, head on her paws as she watched the door.
When I woke the next morning in my human form, I made one decision. One thing I could control.
I would no longer turn away from the experiments. I would learn everything I could about what was happening here. It was most likely a useless effort, but I would no longer just participate.
I am wolf.
I would watch my prey and learn their weaknesses before they came for me.
I am wolf.