The Typhon Project

Chapter One: Genetic Kool-Aid

This was my last treatment before The Change.

Two needles down. Two more to go.

Medical tape fastened an I.V. tube to the back of my right hand and another on the wrist of my left, just below the thumb. Thick armrests on a vinyl upholstered chair supported both of my arms.

The nurse pumped a cotton ball on the alcohol dispenser. "The good news is, this is your last treatment." At the sharp scent, I wrinkled my nose. I glanced around the sterile room, fluorescent lights glinted off a light grey countertop and matching tile floor.

She hunched over my shoulder and scrubbed the alcohol soaked cotton ball over my skin. Her wispy blonde hair fell forward. She pushed it back behind her ear, no doubt out of habit. The ear that should have been there to catch it was missing; nothing but a stub of cauliflower and a hole remained as a mangled reminder of what used to be there. They would have hacked it off to give her a few more weeks of life- a few more weeks of useful service.

She grabbed my bicep, pinching it between her fingers. My stomach tightened. I turned my head away to stare at a poster of a kitten toying with a ball of yarn, drew in a deep breath, and held it.

"Just a little pinch, Leah," she said.

Why did they always say that? A needle piercing my skin and stabbing into my muscle was not a little pinch. I focused on the kitten's pale blue eyes.

Pain struck my bicep, then the faint sensation of the needle sliding in. Stars speckled my vision as the needle sunk deeper into my flesh. I pulled in a breath through my nose and then blew it out my mouth.

The nurse pulled out the needle and fixed a bandage over the puncture wound. "Are you okay?"

I blinked hard. "Yeah, I'm fine." The kitten image blurred and doubled. Four icy eyes instead of two.

She patted my arm. "One more and then you never have to do this again."

She scrubbed the cotton ball over my other bicep and stabbed me again. Within a couple seconds it was over, but the way she pulled it out- I could feel it slip out. My vision narrowed, turning grey around the edges. My hands and feet went cold and sweat dewed on my forehead.

"How are you doing?"

I couldn't answer; I was too busy trying to stay conscious. I breathed deeper and faster, but seemed to be sliding sideways.

She touched my shoulder. "Leah, are you okay?"

I was in a tunnel, and it was getting narrower by the minute. "I'm not feeling very well." Exhaustion poured over me. I wanted to close my eyes. It would have been so easy to just slip out of consciousness, but I fought back.

The nurse pushed my head down. "Put your head between your knees."

Water gushed on the other side of the room, and then a cool clothe eased over the back of my neck. The dizziness began to pass, my vision clearing. I stared down at the industrial tiles. I filled my lungs and blew the air out. Slowly, my vision sharpened.

I pulled the cloth off my neck and sat up.

The nurse stood at the counter, tapping something into a laptop. She peered back at me. "How are you feeling now?"

I held the now warm cloth out to her. "Much better."

She took the cloth and tossed it in a hamper. "Just sit back and relax. You've got a little while to go on those I.V.'s. Do you want a magazine?"

"Sure."

She strode out of the room, and I looked over at my watch, at its double faces, one large circle and one smaller circle both fixed onto a wide leather band. The larger of the two read 12:15. The held a needle that drifted around the circle, meandering like a lost puppy. A long time ago, it pointed north. Back when it was worn on a much larger wrist than mine.

The nurse marched back into the room, handed me a small stack of wrinkled magazines, then left me alone again.

I paged through the same ancient issue of People Magazine that I had last time I'd been here. Magazines hadn't been produced in years, so I was stuck with old news. I scrutinized the cover. How would those beautiful faces look ashen skinned and dotted with lesions?

I opened the magazine to the middle and then flipped pages. Dead. Dead. Dead. All those happy smiling faces-dead.

I glanced up at the plastic I.V. bags hanging above me. The one on the left dripped clear liquid, while the one on the right dripped a vivid orange liquid that reminded me of orange Kool-Aid. If only I could squeeze the bags to make them go faster.

Footsteps tapped toward me. "Did you read the information we gave you last time about your final treatment?" the nurse asked.

I looked her in the eye and lied. "Yeah."

She inspected the orange Kool-aid bag. "Do you have any questions?"

I brushed my thumb over my watch's crystal. "Will it hurt?"

She lifted her chin. "People experience varying levels of discomfort but most say it doesn't hurt. You should expect some itching. Go ahead and scratch; it will make it all go faster. Some have experienced some mild nausea. If there is any bleeding, make sure to call in immediately."

"How long until . . . ?" I swallowed hard. Until I wouldn't be me anymore.

"It varies. You could start to see changes within the next couple hours, or it may take up to two weeks."

When the final drops of liquid slid down the tube and into my veins, the nurse extracted the needles. The treatments were done. Finally!

She bandaged the insertion points and then keyed something into her computer. "Looks like you're good to go. That is, if you're feeling up to it."

I blew out a long breath, then eased myself out of the chair and carefully stood up, afraid of the lingering effects of my dizzy spell. "I think I'm good."

She smiled. "Well then, you're free to go."

I stepped toward the door.

"Oh, Leah?"

I stopped short and tensed.

"Don't forget that you need to meet with your counsellor before you go."

I clamped my teeth together. "I really need to get home. My mom and sister . . . ."

"You know the drill. It's required. And it won't take long."

Shoulders slumped, I stalked out of the examination room and down the hall. They were forcing to see her again. I'd rather have another series of needles.

I flung open a door, TYPHON PROJECT etched into the glass. The project was named after this creature from Greek mythology-a half-reptile, half-human creature powerful enough to defeat Zeus.

The name didn't make me feel any better about my future.

I took the elevator to the seventh floor and found my counselor's office. I plopped down in one of the waiting room chairs, covered with a tan, scratchy material. The plaque on her door read Dr. Neila Rail, B.A., M.A., Ph.D. Maybe she should get more letters behind her name.

Mellow music-a pan pipe and a guitar-quietly played. I found a bursting seem on the chair's arm and picked at it. This was stupid. I needed to get home. I didn't have time for touchy feely with a shrink

Dr. Rail's door opened. The most hideous creature I'd ever seen stood in the doorway. "Leah, come on in."