Page 4 of Tracking the Alpha (Project Therianthrope #1)

The man with the tablet and glasses that kept falling down his nose didn’t look up as he replied.

“As you well know, the last group had the higher dosage, so, yes, they reacted sooner, but that also led to them failing. The more gradual addition and incorporation of the extra chromosomes should prevent casualties.”

The fucking what? Barrett didn’t know much about biology and shit, but that didn’t sound good.

“Should? We lost Patient 77, and I hear 81 is in a coma,” snarled Davidson.

“You were warned ahead of time that, of the group, those two would likely not survive. Their faulty genetics made them unsuitable candidates,” rebuked the doctor.

“Weren’t you the one who said the protocol would heal the faults within them?”

“I said they might heal. Perhaps once we’ve perfected the dosage in the future it will.” The flat reply.

“How many more treatments before something happens?” The general waved his hand in Barrett’s direction. He might have offered a snappy comeback, only they had a breathing tube shoved down his throat measuring his oxygen levels.

“None. According to all our tests, Patient 73’s DNA is exactly where we want it.”

“Obviously not, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Davidson snapped.

“This isn’t an exact science. And as I’ve told you before, everyone will react slightly differently to the protocol, hence why we’ve been fine-tuning dosages based on individuals.”

“Which doesn’t seem to be working and that’s a problem. Those investing in this billion-dollar experiment want results.”

The doctor put his tablet down and stared at the general, his lack of fear impressive. “Show them the latest lab numbers and the mapping that displays the new helix. The chromosomes are there.”

“And doing nothing.”

“For now. Keep in mind the subject hasn’t had a lifetime to prepare for what is to come. His body needs to learn how to utilize the change.”

“Surely there’s something we can do to trigger it, and don’t tell me the full fucking moon, again. We both know Patient Zero isn’t affected by it.”

“Because Patient Zero has had decades to learn control,” the doctor said on a sigh as if it weren’t the first time he’d had this argument.

Patient Zero? The first mention of there being someone other than Barrett and his section in the facility.

“I think it’s time we tried the more drastic method we know works.”

“That method only works when the patient is capable of activating the Therianthrope switch,” the doctor corrected. “Without that, you’ll kill him.”

“Then you’d better hope for the best,” retorted Davidson. “Because it’s happening, today. Have 73 brought to the secure chamber.”

“If you’re going to do it, at least wait until the full moon in two nights,” the doctor argued. “What you plan, combined with moonlight, will give the best shot.”

“Fine,” growled Davidson. “Two nights. If it fails to trigger, then you’ll start administering more doses.” The pissed-off general stomped out, and the doctor muttered to himself, low, but Barrett could still hear, despite the humming of machines.

“Fucking military twats who think science can be rushed. Although, he has a point. We should have seen something by now. Maybe a catalyst isn’t a bad idea.”

Barrett didn’t understand what they meant until two nights later when he woke tethered outside under a full moon. Alone. Did it mean everyone else died? Perhaps they were the lucky ones.

They’d parked the pivoting hospital bed in a different area than usual, the courtyard bound by concrete walls rather than chain-link topped with barbed wire.

As usual, he’d been bound like a letter T—arms straight out and attached at the wrists.

Legs together with another strap across his ankles.

A final tether cinched his midsection in place.

The bed had been cranked into an upright position and if he craned his head to his left, he could see the major standing guard with a rifle cradled across his chest.

The arrival of someone with ranking led to the major clacking his heels together. Barrett didn’t have to crane to see who since Davidson chose to face him, with a gun in hand.

For once, Barrett didn’t have the gag in his mouth and so could tell the fucker exactly what he thought.

“Should have known you’d be the kind of coward that shoots an unarmed man.”

Davidson arched a brow. “How little you know. I didn’t get these stars by doing nothing during my deployments.”

“Surprised your jaw recovered from all the dicksucking.” Not Barrett’s usual insult—he stole it from Phoenix—but he wanted something to make the man angry. Maybe angry enough he’d at least agree to letting Barrett fight like a man instead of shooting him.

Davidson’s lips curved. “At least you haven’t lost your spirit. Morale can be hard to maintain in these conditions.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” his sarcastic rejoinder.

“You think my methods harsh, and yet once you realize what we’re accomplishing, you’ll understand.”

“Ever think of explaining and… I don’t know… seeking actual volunteers who want to be a part of your sick experiment?”

“We tried that initially, but it turns out those who would sacrifice themselves don’t actually have the qualities we’re seeking.

The power we’re talking about isn’t for the weak-minded, and most definitely not appropriate for the attention-seeking and power-hungry.

Did you not wonder why your section got chosen out of all the others? ”

“Because your doctors liked our test results.”

“Actually, your section didn’t have the best ones, but what you did have was unity, courage, honor. Reading over your actions during missions is what decided me on using you and those you commanded.”

“If that was supposed to be a compliment, it failed,” Barrett couldn’t help the dry retort.

“And yet you should consider it an honor. If the protocol succeeds, you will be the first. Envied by others. Your greatness coveted.”

“If this experiment is so great, then how come you aren’t volunteering?”

The general thumped his chest. “Heart wouldn’t be able to withstand it. But once the doctors better understand and tweak it for those of us with defects, I will gladly roll up a sleeve.”

“You didn’t care Gage couldn’t handle it,” he spat. “What of Freya and Slater?” They’d not looked so good last time he’d seen them.

“Given their youth, we had hoped the more drawn-out version of the procedure would reverse their condition. Alas, that didn’t work out as hoped for the male who died, but the others seem to be holding on.”

“And what of those who came before us?”

The general pursed his lips. “As with any new medical procedure, there are casualties. Not all because of the treatment. A few couldn’t handle it and committed suicide.

Others reacted poorly to the injections.

Convulsions that led to brain breeds. Hearts exploding.

One test subject died of asphyxiation because his lungs stopped working.

That one caused quite the stir, as he was extremely healthy in all respects. ”

The admission stole Barrett’s voice for a moment. What an awful way to die. “Sounds as if this experiment of yours is a failure.”

“It’s not.”

“The doctor said it himself. All the other patients didn’t survive.”

“No, what he said was they were unsuccessful. Some lived. They’re just not what we aimed for. But it will be different with you.” The drooping barrel of the gun lifted and took aim at Barrett’s upper body.

“You’re so confident you’re going to shoot me?” Barrett should have felt fear in that moment, but instead, a calm fell over him.

“Don’t worry, you’ll survive, and if I’m right, this will be the trigger to unlocking your potential.” Said so matter-of-factly. The casualness with which he discussed shooting at Barrett roused a spark of anger.

“You’re a sick fuck.”

“I am a man who knows how to get shit done.” Davidson never took his eyes from Barrett as he barked out orders. “Be ready, Major. Remember, no head or heart shots. We need him alive.”

Ironic coming from the man who fired a bullet into Barrett’s shoulder.

The searing pain stole his breath, and the hot trickle of blood provided further proof of his injury. Barrett gritted his teeth and tilted his head back to look at the sky. The full moon shone, bathing his skin.

“Come on. Change,” muttered Davidson.

What the fuck was the man waiting for?

Bang .

The second bullet took him in the leg, and if not for the restraints, Barrett would have fallen.

The wounds throbbed, and he panted.

Like a dog.

Air whistling in and out of his mouth.

He kept staring at the moon, using it to ground his pain. A pain that began to sizzle as if his injuries were being seared with fire.

A fire that spread throughout his body.

Barrett grunted as he began to convulse, his body violently thrashing in the restraints.

“It’s happening!” crowed Davidson. Quickly followed by, “Get the straps off him so he can properly morph.”

Morph? The word made no sense, but he welcomed the relief of being unbound so he could hit the ground and writhe unfettered. His body bowed and cracked. His back arched, and his mouth opened wide on a silent scream.

A roaring white noise filled his head, muffling all sound but the rapid thump of his heart.

When the agony passed and he had the capacity to draw a lungful of air, it emerged in a strange howling sound.

“It fucking worked,” yelled a voice that drew back Barrett’s lip.

What made that low snarling sound? And why could he not stand upright? His body felt strange. Discombobulated. His mind fuzzy and yet his senses sharp.

Davidson dropped to a crouch in front of him and smirked. “Guess the doctor doesn’t know as much as he thinks. I knew you needed a catalyst. Now to see if the others are ready too.”

The smug tone and threat had him bristling and growling, the sound low and animal-like. What had Davidson done to him?

“Subdue him, Major,” the general ordered.

Like fuck.

Barrett lunged and slammed into Davidson’s chest. He went to punch, only his limbs didn’t move as expected, and instead of a closed fist, he saw a paw tipped in claws swipe across the general’s face, tearing open the flesh.

The pouring blood wasn’t what had him standing still, though.

I’ve got fucking paws!

The shock froze him long enough that the general heaved him off his body and rolled to his feet, snapping, “Would you fucking dart him already?”

The major aimed the tranquilizing pistol at Barrett, close enough he couldn’t miss.

If Barrett were still standing in that spot.

He wasn’t, though. Without thinking, without a plan, guided only by an instinct for survival, Barrett raced for the courtyard wall and ignored the darts that missed and smashed into the concrete.

He howled as he leaped, partially because he saw those big furry paws of his again.

No fingers in sight but the claws did manage to grip, and he scrabbled at the lip of the wall.

For a second, he thought he might fall. Instead, he made it over the barrier and another jump took him to the ground.

A hard landing on four feet.

While he wanted to wail and rail against what had been done to him, he instead ran. Raced away from the clearing around the compound he’d been held prisoner in. Fled into the forest full of smells that teased.

Escaped those who’d taken away his humanity, but he didn’t forget what they’d done.

And when hunters came seeking, he sent back a deadly message.

I won’t be your prisoner or pawn again.