The Henhouse

Details

Justin had watched many men die- shot, beaten, tortured, hung. But no video game could have prepared him for the smaller things: the tangy smell of iron hanging on the air, or the plopping noise of stray blood spilling onto the floor. The bullet had struck Lowery in the chest nearby his armpit, and judging from the wall behind him, there was also an exit wound. Justin wouldn't draw himself any closer, but from the empty look in his eyes he'd say he was already dead.

"Oh my- oh my God...."

Ivy gasped as the rest stared at Dr. Lowery in amazement, shock, fear, anger, pity, among a dozen other things. Some knelt down; Justin caught Peter making a sign of the cross and mumbling a quick prayer.

No one said anything for a time. Justin couldn't distinguish between the drips of blood and the drips of the leaky faucet; pessimist by nature, he cringed at every drop.

"W-" someone murmured, the first attempt in minutes. Peter rose off the floor and stared at the husk of Dr. Lowery.

"Wh-why him?" he asked. "He's the lead scientist, he- he heads this whole thing, why would...?"

Justin scrunched his face in thought. None of this made sense....

"Just an accident?" Ivy suggested.

"No." Justin shook his head. "He- he helped me. Whoever that guy was..." – he looked back to the agent – "they weren't on the same side."

"Same side..." Ivy repeated to herself. Her eyes went blank.

Justin scanned the countertops, the scattered papers and test tubes.

"What're you doing?" Jonah asked.

"Looking." He tried to remember where Lowery was sitting – working - when they'd met. In this area he noticed a test tube rack holding three vials full of blood, labeled with colored tape:

Baumann

Lheng

Ledford

The last he picked up and held close. His thumb stroked the upper rim vaguely, as though he'd re-inject the blood into his body, reclaim what was rightfully his.

"What were they doing with these?" Ivy breathed. Her gaze fell on the tube in the middle. "This- those are Biohazard. It-"

She was caught by something in the far corner of the room; as Justin turned he saw a hood labeled Biological Safety Cabinet. She skipped towards it, careful to give the puddle of blood forming under Lowery a wide berth – though she couldn't avoid staring at it, gulping to hold nausea at bay.

"I can't believe that happened."

No one answered.

She peered inside the hood through its cover before shaking her head at Justin, disappointed.

The ruffling of paper.

"Casper James Callaghan," Ella's voice resounded about the room. She was reading from a Manila folder on the table.

"Age: 14, Location: Bybridge, Indiana, Parents: Annette (deceased)" – she grimaced –"and Byron Callaghan. Siblings: older brother Charles Callaghan... SCOPE examination scores-"

"What is that?" Justin demanded. "What're you reading?"

Ella looked up but made no answer. Her eyes shifted around the room before resettling on the folder, looking further down.

"What do his scores say?" Ivy asked.

Ella slowly flipped the folder back open.

"Ah... Verbal: 150, Physical: 160, Social: 190, Visual: 260, Patterning: 270, Environmental: 310, Reflexive: 400."