“Restraints in place, sir. Raising table for injection.”
A scientist pressed a button on the control panel, which was under the large viewing window that overlooked a vast chamber with just one thing in the middle of it. A large, steel table with restraints made out of the toughest metal that could be found and used. On it was a woman, topless and wearing a binder. She was unconscious, for the moment anyway. After the restraints were locked in place, the table was raised into an upward position. .
Dr. Gret took note that the preparation team didn’t tie back her hair: her short, choppy, chin length hair covered most of the left side of her face. He frowned, writing a note to remind them to do so on the paper of his clipboard.
“Begin the procedure,” Dr. Gret ordered. The scientist nodded, pressing a few more buttons.
“Beginning procedure. . . serum ready. . . syringe filled. . . arm locked into place.”
Somewhere in the steel paneling of the room, in the wall below the viewing window, a panel pulled apart to reveal a steel arm extending forward. The end was fastened like a syringe, with a modified plastic tube running into it, continuing into the steel arm. It extended out of the wall before stopping, the needle inches away from the subject’s stomach.
“Ready and waiting, Doctor.”
“Just do it already.” Dr. Gret hissed, causing the younger scientist to gulp and nod fearfully.
“Infecting in Five. . . Four. . . Three. . . Two. . . One. . . ” the scientist called out, as he typed more buttons. Slowly, the arm moved forward, causing the needle to sink into her stomach. The subject twitched a little, bit otherwise didn’t respond.
After a minute, the arm slowly retracted into the wall. The subject had been injected with the intended amount of substance the scientists wanted, so now it’s job was done.
“Now…we wait…” Dr. Gret murmured dully. The past results were that the subject died after 10 seconds.
One Mississippi. . . Two Mississippi. . . Three Mississippi. . .
The scientist counted off in their heads, and they waited.
After those 10 seconds, in which nothing happened, the scientist checked the heart monitor .
Both had flatlined.
“Subject is dead, sir.”
Dr. Gret closed his eyes and focused on the fact that defeat only made him and his team stronger. He then opened his eyes, and immediately got the feeling something was wrong.
“Do we use regular cleanup procedures, sir?” The scientist asked, turning his torso to face the older man, who was staring at the corpse of the subject with confusion.
“Wait...¨ Dr. Gret said, walking up next to the younger scientist to get a better look. He realized that the subject’s hands were actually gripping the edges of the table. Gret then realized that there was strange black material coming out from her hands, and spreading rapidly across the table.
“Get the kill team down there.”
“S-Sir…?”
“Get the kill team down there now!” Dr. Gret ordered, yelling.
“Y-Yes, sir!”
Dr. Gret watched as the subject’s eyes opened suddenly, a blank, cloudy white that looked like the eyes of a dead man. He watched as they clouded over, turning from a light gray to a stormy black. Than she began to scream. At first, is sounded like a low yell, but soon it turned into a scream that could make even the most powerful beasts fearful. She lurched forward, struggling, as if she was trying to break the restraints. What were thought to be almost unbreakable, the restraints began to crack, snapping as the black mass, created by the subject, dove into them.
YOU ARE READING
The Things
Ficção GeralBrier Aft was a dangerous thing, formally a man, twisted by the virus within him, and now non-human. He rules his people, the Evolutions, with an iron grip, and is still driving humanity to the brink of extinction, even a 100 years after their fall...
