“All set, boss,” Python replied.
“How’s Shark?”
“Ornery as usual but otherwise he’ll be fine.”
“Okay, wait for your signal...and good luck.”
“Right,” Python replied. “Good luck to you too.”
Todd cut the connection and crawled over to his backpack to be sure he was prepared for his part of the mission. After a final check, he sat back and waited.
A minute later he heard the haunting strains of the evening call to prayer begin. He listened for three or four minutes until the last notes faded into the early evening air. Moments later a thunderous explosion shook the ground beneath him. Playtime had begun.
As Chickowski entered the lab, he noticed Ayhem lying on the table where Ted was finishing securing him with the leather restraints. The young man turned his head in Chickowski’s direction and smiled, sending a dull ache through Chickowski’s solar plexus. He deeply regretted having learned the name of this particular ‘chick,’ but there was nothing he could do about it now. He realized he was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. Not only did Hassan expect proof of the template’s viability, but Miriam had given him an ultimatum to deliver as well. Somehow he had to think of Ayhem as just another test subject, no more important than any other kind of lab rat he’d worked with in the past; name or no name.
Still, it wouldn't hurt to treat the boy with civility. As he strolled over to the table, he returned the smile. "The restraints are just for your protection; you understand."
“Yes, that is fine, doctor. I am completely in your hands. Please proceed.”
Ayhem’s trust in him only made Chickowski feel worse. He cleared his throat.
“We’ll take it slow and easy at first,” he told Ayhem. He turned to Hassan.
“I need to titrate a dilute sample for our first test.”
Hassan nodded. He walked over to a small safe on the counter and punched in a code. The door opened, and he withdrew the vial of template and handed it to Chickowski who took it from him, trying to keep his hands from shaking.
Chickowski walked over to the counter to prepare the solution before turning back to Ayhem and the Sheik.
“I’ve prepared a dilute solution of the template, which I will now administer sublingually.”
Noticing a confused look on Ayhem’s face, he explained. “I’m going to ask you to open your mouth so I can place a few drops of the solution under your tongue. It’ll then be absorbed into your bloodstream so we can monitor the results.”
“Is that how it was delivered to the first subject; the one that produced the Kindred?” Hassan asked from behind him.
Chickowski nodded without turning in his direction. “Yes,” he lied.
He really didn’t have a clue how the template had gotten into Flip’s body, but he figured this was the safest way for this experiment, at least to start.
“How long will it take before we see results?” Hassan asked.
Chickowski still avoided looking at him as he replied, “It varies from subject to subject. We’ll just have to wait and see.” Another lie, but he noticed each untruth became easier to tell. This fake it ’til you make it strategy seemed to be working.
Returning to the lab table, he said, "Open wide." As Ayhem did as he was told, Chickowski carefully counted out the drops. "One, two, three..." He hesitated a moment, then remembering Miriam's last words to him, he continued, "four, five." Would that be enough? Too much? Or just the right amount. He had no idea. That's why they call it an experiment, he reminded himself, and once more repeated his mantra; fake it 'til you make it.
“Now what?” Hassan asked as Chickowski stepped back and returned the dropper to its container.
“We wait,” Chickowski replied.
“How long?”
“We should see something happening within an hour or so,” Chickowski replied, even though he had no idea how long it would take.
"That long?" Hassan clearly wasn't pleased with the answer. "Give it twenty minutes, then give him some more. I'm a busy man, and I haven't got all day."
“If you like, I’d be happy to call you when...”
“No, I want to be here when it happens,” Hassan cut him off. “Twenty minutes,” he repeated.
Chickowski nodded and glanced up at the wall clock noting the time.
After about five minutes, he looked down at Ayhem where he lay with his eyes closed, breathing slowly. It appeared that he might have dozed off. “How do you feel?”
“I am fine,” Ayhem replied not bothering to open his eyes. His words sounded a bit slurred. “I’m floating among the clouds.”
Was that from the effects of the template, Chickowski wondered, or was that just Ayhem being poetic? Chickowski could hear Hassan pacing nervously behind him. Patience was definitely not one of the man's strong suits.
Fifteen minutes had passed when Hassan said, “Okay, give him some more.”
“But it’s only been...”
"I said give him some more. I can tell time, doctor, but it's obviously not having any effect except to have me question your competency." He walked over to the lab counter. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a syringe and needle. "Here, use this. Give it to him intravenously. You can find a vein, right?"
"But..." Chickowski started but then seeing the look on Hassan's face stopped. Maybe IV would be a preferred route. Taking the syringe from him, Chickowski nodded. After all, it was an experiment, and lab rats were expendable.
“I’ll need something to tie off...”
Hassan handed him a piece of rubber tubing he’d already pulled out of the drawer.
“Proceed.”
Chickowski picked up the vial of the diluted template and, with shaking hands, pulled a half cc of the solution into the syringe.
“More,” Hassan instructed.
He pulled up another half cc.
"Make it two cc's," Hassan ordered, and Chickowski complied. Apparently, the experiment was no longer his if it ever had been.
He strolled back over to the table where Ayhem appeared to be sleeping and untied the strap holding the right arm. He ran the rubber tubing around the arm just above the elbow and waited a moment for the blood to collect. At least the boy had a healthy set of veins. It would be easy to administer the solution.
Chickowski bent over with the syringe. At the last moment he remembered it was usual protocol to clean the area with a swab of alcohol, but then realized it probably wouldn’t matter. He felt confident that what he was about to do would probably kill the boy long before any infection was likely to set in.
Just as the needle pricked the skin, Ayhem's eyes shot open, but they were not the dark brown, almost black eyes they had been only a little while ago. Now they resembled the eyes of a wolf, yellow and predatory... and angry. They froze Chickowski to the spot, the needle just barely piercing the skin. In the next instance, the syringe went flying out of his hand. Ayhem ripped free of his restraints and grabbed Chickowski's throat. He paused for a second, then ripped out the doctor's trachea, severing the neck veins and carotid arteries that supplied blood to the brain, making it impossible for the doctor to scream. Instead, it came out as more of a guttural moist wheeze. And that is the way Chickowski’s world ended—not with a bang but a whimper.
In the distance, the evening call to prayer began.
As the explosion reverberated throughout Falconcity of Wonders, Shark and Python smiled at each other from their hiding place near the city’s power plant. The lights of the nearby pyramids glowed brightly as the late afternoon shadows grew.
“There she blows,” Shark said as he glanced down at his watch starting the timer. “One damn fuel tank up in smoke.”
“Hope Jasper and Firefly are okay,” Python replied.
“They’re fine. When it comes to blowing up shit, Firefly knows his stuff. They’re already on to their next objective by now.”
He continued to stare at his watch for a minute. “Okay, our turn.”
; Python nodded. “Right. Let’s do it.”
He reached over to the small black box between the two of them and flipped the switch. Thirty yards away they heard a second, much smaller explosion, followed almost immediately with the lights of the nearby Pyramids shutting off, followed an instant later by the rest of the city going dark. Falconcity was without power.
“Lights out and game on,” Python quipped. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time to get to our second objective.”
Shark nodded. He wasn't looking forward to this next part. In the last few hours, his injured ankle had continued to swell despite the ice packs and having wrapped it. He stood up, trying to not wince in pain. "Okay, lead the way."
Python frowned, then walked over to give his comrade a hand. “Come on, Gimp. We don’t have far to go.”
Tao and Widget sat across from each other with a small table between them playing a game of cards. The door to the separate room was propped open, so they could keep an eye on their prisoner, who remained unconscious.
“Where the hell is the other half of our team?” Widget asked, picking up a card from the table and dropping down another one from his hand. “I could use a break from this monotony.”
"Willow told me that they would be helping Hassan with an experiment or test. Something to do with a template or something or other that the doctor and his lady friend brought. We're on our own here, at least for a while longer."
As Tao picked up the card Widget had discarded, he cocked his head to one side as a distant explosion shook the room. A short time later a second explosion occurred from even farther away. The lights blinked off, throwing them into darkness. A few seconds later, the emergency lighting in the corner of the ceiling flashed on.
“What was that?” Widget asked.
“I don’t know,” Tao replied, dropping his cards on the table, “but it didn’t sound good. That second one knocked out the power. Stay here while I go check it out.” He rose from the chair, glancing at Mel for a second before leaving.
Widget waited until Tao was gone for a minute before glancing at his friend's cards, exchanging a couple of them with cards of lesser value from the deck. As the minutes dragged by, he could feel his nerves begin to fray. What was taking Tao so long? Had his friend abandoned him? Should he check on him?
He walked into the other room to check on Mel. Still out. Should he give the kid some more meds? Nah, better wait. As he returned to the other room, he missed the slight flutter of the boy's eyelashes.
Hassan stood frozen by the bloody scene unfolding before him. He could feel the edge of the counter pressed along his back. He yelled frantically at Ted.
"Stop him! Don't let him get those restraints." But even as he spoke, Ayhem bent over to untie his legs.
“Open the damn door!” Hassan screamed to Ned on the other side of the observation window. “Get me out of here. You...” he pointed to Ted. “Stop him, I said.”
Ted hesitated a moment, glancing in the direction of his twin brother before stepping between his boss and Ayhem. He reached inside his coat for his gun, but before he could pull it out and take aim, Ayhem had already torn away from the last restraint and jumped on him, knocking the gun out of his hand and across the room.
But Ted, a large man well-trained in hand-to-hand combat, wasn't going to give up without a fight. He brought both fists down hard on the young man's shoulders near his neck while at the same time kicking out with his right leg, aimed at Ayhem's groin. Both blows would have customarily finished off the attack, but there was no longer anything normal about Ayhem, who appeared unaffected by Ted's assault. In a lightning-like motion, Ayhem grasped Ted's wrists in a vice-like grip and slowly pulled them together in front of him, staring hard into Ted's eyes, a twisted smile growing on his face. Ted stared back, his neck and shoulder muscles straining to maintain control.
Hassan used this time to rush to the door, continuing to wave at Ned, then pounding on the door with his fists leaving bloody marks from his efforts. He heard the sound of the lock disengaging, and immediately pushed the door open, knocking Ned back and off balance. Before Ned could right himself, Hassan had turned and locked the door again.
“Gas the room,” Hassan ordered between gasps for air.
"Are you crazy?" Ned replied trying to push the Sheik out of the way so he could help Ted. "My brother is in there."
The two of them struggled for several seconds until they were both suddenly stopped by an inhuman shriek of rage. They turned towards the observation window in time to watch Ted's twisted body collide with it and hang in space against the glass for a second before collapsing in a broken mass, leaving a bloody stain on the glass.
“Your brother is dead,” Hassan replied in a much calmer voice than he felt. “And we will be too if you don’t gas the son-of-a-bitch.”
Ned stared at him; the color drained from his face by what he'd just witnessed. When he didn't move, Hassan yanked his hands out of the more significant man's grasp and turned to the console a few feet away. "Do I have to do everything around here?" He asked as he slapped the red button at the far end of the console.
The lab room started to fill immediately with a thick cloud of gas. Within seconds, the room was flooded making it impossible to see any further details. The two men stood on the other side of the glass and waited. A minute or two went by without any sound other than the soft hiss of the released gas.
"Well, that was a..." Hassan started, but his comment was cut off as a second object hit the glass. Two wild eyes stared at him filled with hate, a gaping mouth below it gasped for air then slowly fell away, back into the cloud of gas, followed by a scraping noise for close to a minute.
“Wait ten minutes for the fans to clear the gas, then go in and...”
A loud explosion in the distance cut him off again. “What the hell was that?” He reached for his cell phone, then realized he’d left it on his desk. “Get this mess cleaned up. I’ll be in my office.”
Where the hell was Willow when you needed her? Then he remembered he’d sent her on an errand earlier in the day to take care of another mess. Well, it was time for her to get her sweet ass back here where she belonged. She wouldn’t be thrilled to hear about one of the twins being killed. Maybe it would be best to let someone else break the news to her.
He had traveled just a short distance down the hallway when he heard a second explosion in the distance. The lights winked out, throwing him into pitch blackness for several seconds. The emergency lighting came on after a few minutes. The world is going to hell, he thought. No question about it.
As the minutes dragged on, Widget began pacing, waiting for his comrade to return. He glanced at his watch. Had it really been only five minutes that Tao had been gone? It felt more like an hour. In that time, he'd heard gunshots and two more explosions much closer to home. He'd about decided to go exploring on his own when Tao returned, sweating and shaken.
“What’s going on?” Widget asked.
"All hell's breaking loose," Tao replied. "I ran into Ned. The experiment went bad, really bad. Ted is dead; so is the doctor. The test subject killed them and almost killed Hassan. I don't know about you, but I think it's time to get the hell out of here."
“How...where?” Widget asked. “This seems a safer place than out there.”
“I know a back way,” Tao replied. “I stumbled upon it a few months ago. Follow me. I’ll get us out of here. He glanced into the open door at Mel. “I see he’s still out of it.”
“Yeah, not a peep from him, but what do we do with him?” Widget asked pointing towards their prisoner.
“Leave him. He won’t be doing any harm anytime soon,” Tao said. “Besides, he’s no longer our problem.”
The two men ran out of the room with Tao leading the way. They’d gone only a few yards down the hallway when Widget stopped.
“Hold just a sec,” Widget shouted. “I forgot something. I’ll be right back.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned
around and ran back to where Mel sat unconscious. Widget stared at him for a moment, then reached down and removed his knife from its ankle sheath. He walked behind Mel humming a tuneless song.
Bashir
OFFICER BASHIR WAS having a good day, another leisurely one of keeping the peace, he thought. He and his security team had plush jobs that mostly involved driving around Falconcity of Wonders. Driving and eating, driving and eating.
He rubbed his rotund belly that threatened to burst through the buttons of his khaki shirt. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to see his belt without the aid of a mirror. His wife had finally given up pleading with him to go on a diet. He assumed that meant she'd merely taken out a larger life insurance policy on him. So be it. Food was one of the simple pleasures of life. No, more than just a pleasure, it was a real blessing from Allah. It would be a sin not to enjoy it.
He sat back in the office chair and propped his feet on the desk in front of him, resisting the temptation to reach into the desk drawer where he kept his stash of snacks. Time enough for those later. He was working the evening shift tonight, which typically meant less driving around and more time to eat to help relieve the boredom.
He glanced over to the wall of surveillance cameras that gave him eyes on the city just in time to see the natural gas tank explode, followed a half second later by the sound and vibration that threatened to knock him out of his chair.
What the hell?
He dropped his feet back down and pushed himself out of the chair. Was the city under attack? On his shift? He was still running around the office trying to get his bearings when he heard a second explosion followed immediately by the lights from the monitors blinking out.
He ran into the outer office to witness chaos as his team of guards scurried about like a family of confused roaches.
“Get in the truck!” He ordered. He glanced at the nail on the wall where the keys were supposed to be. It was bare.
"Where are the keys?" He started.
"I have them here," Abdul, his right-hand man replied, holding up two sets. He tossed one of them to his boss.
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