by David Menard
Dead End: Escape
By:
David Menard
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: The Experiment
Chapter 2: Mondays
Chapter 3: The Call
Chapter 4: End of Shift
Chapter 5: The Crimson Road
Chapter 6: Quarantine
Chapter 7: Meet the Survivors
Chapter 8: Into the Gray
Chapter 9: A Death in the Family
Chapter 10: The Sins of Man
Chapter 11: A Handful of Problems
Chapter 12: Small Talk
Chapter 13: The Trap
Chapter 14: The Rescue
Chapter 15: War Stories
Chapter 16: An Unlikely Connection
Chapter 17: Distractions
Chapter 18: The Escape Plan
Chapter 19: The Mission
Chapter 20: The Abomination
Chapter 21: Departure
Chapter 22: A Predator in the Night
Chapter 23: Ambushed
Chapter 24: Fight Fire with Fire
Chapter 25: Escape
Epilogue
Alternate Ending I
Alternate Ending II
About the Author
David Menard is a living representation of the American Dream. David is a salesman by day, maintaining a steady job to support his family. During his free time, he is an author and entrepreneur, fulfilling his dream of being a writer. Currently he is working on two more novels and a television script. David graduated college in 2013, obtaining his Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology. He currently resides in Putnam CT, living happily with his wife Chelsea and his newborn son Oliver.
Chapter 1: The Experiment
It stood, intimidating in stature and with its flawless design, in the abandoned industrial district of the town. It’s glorious size was only surpassed by its beautiful ornate construction. The sun glared off hundreds of windows that encompassed most of the building’s facade. It was an octagonal building with hallways that branched off into three wings; a modern day masterpiece.The front entrance, a beautiful overhang that shadowed four inch thick sliding glass doors. The only way into this opulent superstructure was with a keycard, entrusted only to employees and emergency services. The interior of this geometric facility featured an open floor plan, with a large glass ceiling illuminating the building. This fascinating structure was none other than the famous D.N.A Restoration Lab.
The past year was a success for the D.N.A Restoration Lab. Their research into robotics and experimental medicine led to astounding breakthroughs. Not only had the facility discovered a cancer inhibitor but they also established a radical new approach to gene therapy. These scientific advances were discovered by Master Chemist, Bruce Williams. He was Chairman of the Medical Advancement Department and was the number one applicant for Chief of Staff. Once Marcus Alyson, the current Chief of Staff, retired Bruce would be his successor. In two short years, he bypassed many tenured scientists to attain his new lucrative position; a huge accomplishment for an individual in his late twenties.
Bruce Williams was ready to unveil his greatest achievement to the science community. The project was top secret but the buzz in Time Magazine made the mystery the biggest social topic since his cancer inhibitor was in development. The inhibitor, T-217, was a singular injection of modified antibodies into the cerebellum that caused the brain to replicate, and distribute the neutralizer. The inhibitor, that minimized cancer cells , would suppress their attack on the body by allowing white blood cells to combat them. The results from the initial case study showed 29/35 participants no longer showed signs of various forms of cancer.
Science was Bruce Williams’ passion, he dedicated every waking moment to his research forcing him into isolation, causing his only social interactions to involve co-workers. He was married once, although it ended in disaster. Bruce’s obsession led him to drive away his then wife, Ellen; though not intentionally. After the divorce, he let her keep the house and ended up spending most of his time in the Restoration Center. He would sleep in his office, but sleep eluded him. On this day, Bruce would uncover something incredible and life changing as his research reached its apex.
“Winston, give me that test tube,” called Bruce from across the lab. He peered through the window as he said it, contemplating the events that led to this moment . The man he saw in the reflection was a ghost, a shadow of a man whose face was afflicted with worry lines that were no doubt due to stress. He was still a very handsome man despite the accelerated aging from stress. His hair, black as a raven, was slicked back and slightly disheveled. He exhaled and blew a few strands of hair from his brow and pushed his glasses upon his nose with his forearm. Bruce looked away from his reflection and glanced towards his lab assistant.
“I’m coming sir, just a second,” Winston said as he scurried past tables of sensitive experiments and equipment. Alfred Winston was a brilliant scientist but was too clumsy to perform the simplest of tasks. After working a full year with Winston, Bruce believed most of his clumsiness came from nerves. That was understandable considering that he was employed at the most prestigious lab in the world. Winston was working with the greatest mind of the age and he had the honor to assist in his life changing research.
Winston was a heavy set man featuring long gray curly hair and a large bushy beard to match. His outward appearance was deceiving, as he was a brilliant scientist. He graduated top in his class at Stanford University and currently held one of the precious few internships at the Restoration Lab. Winston was forty three years old, a late bloomer he would say; when forced to close his restaurant from lack of business he turned to college in hopes of a fresh start. Winston was fascinated by chemistry in high school and quickly excelled in this field of study during his time at college.
The test tube Winston was retrieving contained Cytoposine, a serum that consisted of preservatives, hormones, and stem cells. The vile held a purple hued liquid and smelled like a cross between bleach and pesticides. This was Bruce William’s most important composition. He spent the better half of a year reconfiguring it to fit his purposes. Its first applications were to simply heal small cuts and skin abrasions; however Bruce’s ambition compelled him to enhance the serum. Winston carefully retrieved the test tube from the holder and passed it to Bruce like a baton.
“Winston, do you know what this will do to the subject?” Bruce asked, testing his assistant’s knowledge. He saw the amazement in Winston’s eyes and supposed he shared the same look of wonder; this was the fruit of their labor after all. He held the tube up to the fluorescent lights and admired it. The light piercing through the rich purple color gave him goosebumps. This is what he was born to do; today was the next chapter of Bruce Williams’ legacy.
“Well, if I am correct, then it should revive the subject,” Winston replied still not able to comprehend the breakthrough that Bruce was making in the science community. The subject they were referring to was a deceased feline. It was a common brown tiger mix that was found outside of the DNA Restoration Lab near the dumpsters. The cause of death appeared to be starvation seeing that the body had no physical damage, perfect for the purpose of this experiment. The goal of was to bring the cat back from death. He chose a feline not just because of the availability of the body, but because cats had similar genes to humans. In numerous studies, forelimb comparisons have been found to show that cats and humans are linked to a common ancestor. This first application of the drug into a host would likely lead to human testing.
The Cytoposine serum had to be administered through means of injection; the preservative properties in the chemical would jump start the brain of the subject, making it capable of activity, while artificial hormones would reactivate sens
es and the stem cells would reanimate the muscles in the body. In a sequence of chain reactions the host would be able to awake and maintain motor and cognitive functions the host possessed before death.
“That is correct, this feline may be the first creature to experience death and live to tell about it,” he replied, then paused for a moment. “Well not talk exactly,” he added humorously. The room was quiet and tense, in a few moments Bruce Williams was about to reverse the work of God. Chilling and invigorating. If the serum worked, those previously deceased would be reunited with loved ones and the mystery of death would be discovered. Is there life after death? Is there a God? Bruce was shaking with anticipation, but managed to get his nerves under control. He carefully inserted a needle into the test tube and withdrew the Cytoposine. Bruce squirted a small amount out to ensure it was functioning and carefully injected the cat. Both eager scientists stood, motionless like statues. Silently, they stared at the feline for a few moments and felt dismayed. The cat remained motionless.
“Move! Do something!” He shouted at the cat, as he slammed the table with his fists. “What went wrong!? Back to the fucking drawing board!” Bruce bellowed. He turned and walked abruptly towards his equipment table. He picked up a beaker and threw it into his whiteboard; it shattered on impact. Bruce picked up his microscope next when Winston called out.
“Dr. Williams, look!” Winston exclaimed. Bruce turned around and his eyes widened. The cat was standing up looking at them. It’s tail moved side to side like a serpent and it tilted it’s head, gazing at the men. Bruce’s heart pounded in his chest, he had done the impossible and the impossible was staring at him. He took a few strides towards the bench. His mind was racing, he was already thinking about human trials. This would surely win a Nobel Prize, but that was secondary to what this meant. Soon the dead would awaken and share insight on the question marks surrounding death.
Bruce fast approached the subject, a smile forming on his rosy face. He looked to Winston and they nodded in unison. They both reached out for a congratulatory handshake when the cat attacked Winston. The lab assistant fell back, flailing as test tubes and beakers crashed onto the floor in his attempt to fight of the hostile feline. The cat clamped it’s jaw down on his hand and penetrated Winston’s forearm with claws. The vicious feline drew blood well before Winston could detach it from his left hand. He forcibly removed the cat with his free hand, breaking some of it’s ribs in the process. Once detached from his body, Winston threw the cat away from him. The cat hit the floor and bounded out of the door to the outside lobby.
“Winston, are you okay?” asked Bruce in a state of shock. He had expected confusion from the creature but certainly not aggression. This was surely something to catalog in his experiment log; the log contained one hundred and thirty two pages of notes and diagrams of Cytoposine. He carefully treaded the glass covered floor and approached his distraught assistant, crushing glass as he did so.
“Fine… I am fine. Just startled, that damn cat drew blood,” Winston replied breathing heavily. Blood was dripping onto the floor like a loosely turned water faucet. After a few seconds the droplets of blood formed a small pool on the labs pristine, white tiled, floors.
“Get that cleaned up and meet me back here,” Bruce instructed his bewildered colleague. Winston left for the lab restroom and Bruce entered the lobby to find his specimen. Despite the clear set back he knew he was going to become one of the most important men in the world. The very thought made him form a dreamlike smile as he entered the main foyer of the lobby. By the main desk he saw a woman writing notes in a small black book. He recognized her immediately; it was Jennifer Alyson, the head of the genome project and the daughter of the Chief. He walked swiftly over to her, his white coat tails flying behind him.
“Hey Jen, did you see a brown feline run through here?” Bruce asked her with a wide smile on his face. Bruce was infatuated with Jennifer Alyson from the first time he saw her. Bruce had nothing in his life except for his research; after the divorce he did not know if that was enough, but when he met Jennifer he felt some happiness return in his life. She was a short woman about 5’2” but she had such striking features he could not help but look at her. Her fierce green eyes pierced him with every glance; her short red hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights. He met her a year ago, a few months after his wife left him, when they both attended ‘The Future of Medicine’ seminar. Together they lead a presentation on his cancer research. His success was hinged on her knowledge of the human genome. Her feedback on the genome helped Bruce configure the T-217 to properly assimilate with the human anatomy.
“Actually I did, that little bastard bit me when I tried to pet him, drew blood too.” she replied holding up a blood stained cloth. Her face was flushed, but that made her all the sexier to Bruce. She brushed aside her hair and glanced at her wound with frustration.
“Do you know where it went?” he asked, shifting his weight as he leaned onto the desk while looking into her eyes. She looked back defiantly, leering at him with smile on her face. She was definitely an intimidating woman, with such beauty and a brain that seemed to rival Einstein.
“After the little fucker bit me I threw it outside the door and closed it” she said while pressing the cloth down on her wound. “I hope you didn’t need the thing because I would feel so bad if you did” she added sadly with a tinge of flirtatiousness. Bruce knew that this day warranted celebration, perhaps a similar one to last year. After they successfully presented their cure, Bruce and Jennifer had a passionate night in the hotel suite. She was a ferocious animal in the bedroom; even after he was satisfied she begged him for more. The morning after also featured some festivities as she hit the stop button in the elevator and they ended up missing their flight. They never officially dated, only casual encounters in the middle of the night, most times in her office. Bruce wanted more, but never made it apparent. Bruce knew he was not ready for a relationship after losing Ellen.
“No, I have the information I need, I just wanted to keep it for future testing purposes” he replied regrettably “I will just get a new specimen, I should find one on the highway” he added jocularly. They both laughed for a few moments before Bruce proceeded back towards his lab. He was mixed with feelings of success, failure, happiness and sadness; his experiment worked to an extent but he faced a serious setback.
“Hey Bruce,” Jennifer said looking around to make sure no one saw her. He turned and saw her miming a motion with her hand and pushing her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “See you tonight to go over the- um, trial run,” she added as she walked away. That woman was going to be the death of him.
Bruce made his way back to the lab and found Winston hunched over the desk. He was coughing and shaking, making his knees almost buckle under his girth. He then made a noise, it sounded like a cross between a growl and a dog’s bark. Bruce knew Winston had to be beating himself up over the loss of the specimen; it angered Bruce as well, but he understood that Winston had been attacked and reacted. The aggression is what really puzzled Bruce, and so far he had no hypothesis to explain it.
“Winston are you okay?” Bruce asked calmly. “Don’t worry. This trial was a success, now we can conduct more research. We just need to figure out the origin of the aggression,” Bruce was not mad after thinking it over, he may have lost one specimen but he still knew the formula. He approached Winston, the pristine floor echoed under his polished dress shoes as he walked and placed a hand on Winston’s shoulder. With intense speed, the lab assistant turned and attacked him.
Winston slammed Bruce with his arm on a backswing as he turned, bringing him to the floor. He hovered over Bruce, snarling, his eyes milky white. There was no sign of the man that Bruce knew. Winston gazed at him with a cocked head and descended onto Bruce, placing his hands around his neck. Bruce felt immediate panic as he felt the life being choked out of him. What frightened him more was that Winston was attempting to bite him. The sound of teeth clicking together echoed
in Bruce’s head as he continued to struggle. Some of Winston’s teeth were now cracked, many chipped from the intensity of him chomping down so ferociously. Bruce had his hands under Winston’s chin, preventing him from chomping, spit and drool raining down on his face.
In the midst of their struggle a pan fell onto the floor, smashing all of the beakers on the floor except one, a reinforced beaker that sustained only a small crack from impact. Bruce grabbed it with his free hand and slammed it against the side of Winston’s head. Immediately the enraged assistant fell to the side and became still. Surely a beaker would not kill anyone; however the beaker Bruce used smashed upon impact and one sharp piece glided into Winston’s skull, penetrating the brain.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Bruce exclaimed to himself as he sat on the blood stained floor, horrified. He cradled his knees to his chest and tried to piece together what happened. He hyperventilated, rocking slightly. He took a deep breath. “First we gave the subject the injection, then it bit Winston and then he became hostile too,” he said to himself in a whisper. His eyes flashed to the graveyard of broken test tubes he was sitting near. It was then he realized that the Cytoposine was contagious and would spread from person to person from biting. He heard screams from outside the door, and remembered Jennifer’s hand. Bruce leaped to his feet and ran to the lab door.
The lobby was chaos; people were running into each other in attempts to escape the attackers. Bruce looked frantically for Jennifer, knowing she too was likely an attacker. He did not want someone bashing her brains in like he did to Winston. Theoretically he could reverse the Cytoposine and return the attackers to their original selves. Jennifer being his main priority at this point.
Bruce surveyed the hectic panorama and heard from the distance, “Jen stop!” He quickly ran around the chaos in the main foyer, sticking to the walls to avoid the hostiles. Blood painted the floor as a number of people were most certainly dead. He was currently positioned near waiting benches as he tried to keep cover. Horrified screams and guttural noises filled the room. Leslie Hartly, the front desk clerk was tackled to the ground adjacent from Bruce. Her attacker took hold of her face and clamped down with his teeth, tearing her cheek off. Bruce knew she would not survive, even if she did, she would become enraged as well. He stood up and started sidling the wall, eyes peered. He shifted his focus to the right most corner of the lobby, Jennifer’s office.
