Home -- Wolv book 3

Thirteen - Doctor Abrams Part II

Ugh, my head is killing me. Mmf.

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Am I upside down?

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Nope. Not upside down. Frick, that's cold.

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We should have waited for Hutch, I think.

My eyes flickered open slowly, and I turned over, groaning. Harsh, white light assaulted my eyes mercilessly, illuminating the back of my eyelids even when I pinched them shut again.

I stretched out my hind legs, than rolled groggily back onto my stomach. Whatever I was lying on was cold and hard, and my claws clicked against the surface noisily. I pushed myself up to my feet, only to be yanked back down by my neck .

"Woof!" Who did that?

My eyes blinked open as my throat constricted for a moment, and I coughed roughly.

"Just stay down, please."

I flinched, and finally my surroundings began to register. I was splayed out atop a cold, stainless steel surgical table, with my belly pressed against the cold metal. Oh, no.

Oh, no no no no no!

I could remember the last time I'd been on such a table--it had been in a tiny town in Southern Manitoba, within Scott Abrams' makeshift lab.

I'd been cured on that table.

"No!" I cried, leaping to my feet. Once again, something dug down into my neck and yanked me back down. I twisted and snarled, only to whine in dismay as I saw the thick, nylon collar fastened around my throat. A long strap lead away from my restraint, and was fastened down to an opening in the metal table.

"I told you to stay down."

My ears flipped back as the leash was given one more rough yank, just for good measure. I wiggled my nose, and the blood drained from my face as an all-too-familiar scent registered.

That scent is also much too close for my liking.

As much as I didn't want to look up, I couldn't resist raising my sight up from the clean metal table. Standing in front of me, still clad in his white lab coat, was the Killer himself.

He took note of my eyes as they widened, and harrumphed in annoyance. "Of all the people I thought I'd find up in this wretched place, you are the very last I expected to see." He pulled on a pair of thick leather gloves, than reached down and took hold of my right foreleg in his hands. I snarled and writhed, but I was tied in place, and my claws did little against his gloves.

He twisted my paw around, and brushed some of my thin, blonde fur away just below my wrist. He scowled darkly.

"I wish it wasn't you. But it is." Abrams let my paw fall back down to the table. "Hello, Humfrey Michaels."

Warm liquid spread out from beneath me as I lost control of my bladder. This isn't happening. This is all just a bad dream. Please, please let this just be in my mind!  I could feel my own paws shaking beneath me as my heart began to pound itself into overdrive.

The doctor cursed at me as my urine dripped down from the edge of the table. "You stupid dog, this is a sterile environment!" Another curse. "At least, it was! Stop shaking like a child, Humfrey. Did you really think I wouldn't recognize you? Those scars on your arm are a dead giveaway!"