Both of these troubling, dynamic periods were exactly 1000 years apart. If Prakow was correct, another Flux period had already begun. What would that mean for modern human civilization?
Just for kicks, Tomas resolved to test Prakow’s Flux theory and see if there was any evidence of this fantastical event.
Which lead him to Herr X. Information was scant, but during his research on mythical creatures Tomas came across vague references to a Nazi sect called the Berlin Club. Formed in 1939 and made up of wealthy Nazi sympathizers, the Berlin Club took a special interest in the paranormal, claiming to have located a werewolf colony deep in the heart of a Polish forest.
When the Nazi regime collapsed at the end of World War II, not much was heard of the Berlin Club for several decades. Rumor had it that the Club survived but was very careful not to make any of its activities public. In 1983 a German doctor was taken into custody for the murder of a woman he insisted was a werewolf. He claimed innocence, saying he was blackmailed by his masters at the Berlin Club. The man was found dead in his jail cell the next day.
Fascinated with this lead, Tomas traveled to Berlin and researched everything he could on the unfortunate doctor. That was when Herr X took him into custody and questioned him for twelve hours.
Tomas managed to convince Herr X that he was a man of science flirting with the paranormal, no more. The mysterious German took an interest in Tomas, claiming he always had room in his organization for brilliant minds.
Herr X was particularly interested in Tomas’s theories on the Flux. The scientist was astounded to discover that not only did Herr X believe in the Flux, but wanted to build a facility devoted exclusively to researching the phenomenon.
Tomas didn’t know what to think - his mind was a blur of conflicting ideas and emotions. He was a man of science, of empirical evidence, yet here was a man asking him to research paranormal phenomena. Yes, he’d always had an interest in this mythical stuff, but he never seriously thought he could apply proper science to it.
But how often was a scientist offered total freedom and a state of the art research facility to work in? It was all his dreams come true. Besides, if the research came to nothing, what would he have lost? A couple of years, no more. In the end, money was the deciding factor. Herr X’s offer simply couldn’t be refused. He had just met his wife Vanya and hoped to one day support a family. This project seemed like a solid way to kick-start his career.
But still, something ate away at Tomas’s mind as the research facility entered its design phase. Herr X promised not to intervene with his work, but how could he be trusted?
The man had very strong links with the enigmatic Berlin Club. Did that mean Tomas was working for a Nazi?
Herr X himself had laughed off the notion, claiming he was just a ‘good German citizen’ with an interest in Prakow’s theories. Somehow Tomas didn’t think this was entirely true. He feared that Herr X would use the Flux research for unthinkable purposes.
But if those fears grew in the back of Tomas’s mind, that’s where they stayed. Once the Silo was complete the scientist threw himself into his work, thrilled to have so many resources at his disposal. Whole teams of technicians, specialists in spectral physics, bio-engineering, bio-modification, genetic theory, political science and paranormal anthropology.
Everyone under his authority had the same objective - to find out if the Flux was real.
For a half-Ukrainian boy from Poltava, it was a dream come true. The past three years had flown by in a blizzard of discoveries. Tomas’s contract stipulated that he couldn’t go to the press with any of his findings. It was all the intellectual property of Herr X.
Tomas went to sleep most nights dreaming of being able to share his knowledge with the world, though in truth the data would send everyday citizens into a panic. Not only had he amassed ample evidence that the Flux phenomenon was real, he’d also demonstrated that its power was increasing every year.
Herr X was not a patient man. His employer grew increasingly agitated with every step Tomas took towards completing the main project.
The German’s attitude to the scientist’s work was puzzling to say the least. On the one hand there was access to a dazzling array of resources. Tomas couldn’t begin to guess how much all this had cost. On the other hand, Herr X seemed to regard everything Tomas did with extreme disdain.
The scientist couldn’t help but think that the Berlin Club would have a major role to play in this whole affair.
Herr X’s motives were unclear and quite possibly dangerous. Tomas’s contract was to end in three months and he was of a mind to give himself a much needed break.
After all, Project White Knight was near completion.
The figure lying unconscious on an operating table in the isolation cell was the key to everything. That was both his defining achievement and his worst atrocity.
Playing Dr. Frankenstein was never what he wanted. But in many ways Flux research demanded it. At the beginning of their working relationship Herr X insisted that one of the project deliverables be a fully functional lycan.
At first, Tomas thought it an impossible dream. Yes, he was beginning to suspect that such a thing as a lycan could exist, but to create one from thin air seemed fanciful at best.
Then Herr X’s thugs started bringing in cadavers. As a scientist Tomas never had a problem with human bodies. As long as they weren’t killed by Herr X’s minions, he was fine with it. His employer assured him the bodies were fresh from the morgue. Tomas didn’t like to dwell on such matters, preferring to focus on what he could control.
It only took a few months for Tomas to realize that the creation of a lycan was not only possible, but probable. The peculiar conditions of the Flux made it so.
In theory, all he needed was a sufficient quantity of Lycan blood, a dynamic DNA / RNA blueprint and the right electromagnetic trigger.
Fifty years ago a corpse wouldn’t have responded to his electromagnetic triggers at all.
And now? Now there was what Tomas liked to call willingness. A body’s willingness to become whatever its previously locked DNA and RNA allowed it to become. When Flux conditions were in operation, it was just a matter of finding out what DNA blueprint worked best for the individual.
The theory was that if you could splice the very building blocks of a person’s DNA, the Flux would take care of the rest, bringing forth the ‘monster’ that had always lurked within. Some of the biologists in Tomas’ team hypothesized that humans had been affected by the Flux since their emergence some 40,000 years ago. It made sense. If the physical forces of the Earth itself were flipped on its head every 1000 years, it was only reasonable to expect life to be altered accordingly.
As far as Tomas could tell, there were hundreds of possible ‘endpoints’ for scrambled, re-energized RNA nodes. Ghouls were common. As were zombies and wights. Succubi, Aquila and Djinni were all more benign forms of Flux transformation.
Then there was the Naturebound. Tomas thought there was nothing more noble than being able to connect with one’s spirit animal and take its physical form. Herr X seemed to think differently, referring to Naturebound as base vermin and an insult to humanity. Even so, the German was adamant that Tomas produce a Naturebound in perhaps its most graceful form - the lycan.
The scientist in Tomas was of course curious to see if such a thing could be achieved. The implications of success were unimaginable. And the best part? There was some evidence to suggest that the only Flux mutation capable of surviving non-Flux periods was the lycan. In fact, lycans were probably responsible for preserving human knowledge and culture during Flux events. They did it around the time of the old Roman Empire, and they did it again during the Dark Ages.
If Tomas could create his own lycan, it could be the start of something profound. The only question mark was Herr X and the Berlin Club. What did they have in mind for this lycan? It was hard to imagine a positive outcome where Herr X was involved.
In the end, the sheer exc
itement and importance of Tomas’s work was strong enough to overpower any ethical considerations he had. So he worked hard on his creation and blocked the rest from his mind.
Inducing a lycan was incredibly difficult.
Various mutations, both inhibiting and enhancing, were a common element of all evolutionary processes. Tomas had subjected countless ‘fresh’ corpses to his own, patented method of genetic manipulation, working furiously to mimic the precise configuration found in lycans. It was possible to work on these corpses for two weeks before their life force faded for good. Tomas kept their hearts beating in this ‘live’ period via electromagnetic therapy. For all intents and purposes the subjects were dead, but their core DNA blueprint could still be tampered with.
The corpse lying in the isolation cell was as close as Tomas had ever gotten to a lycan - it exhibited enhanced musculature and bodily fur without looking exactly right.
Hopefully, the vial of fresh lycan blood Tomas clutched tightly was the last piece of the puzzle.
And with the impending arrival of Herr X, this blood may have arrived just in time.
“Petyr,” he called, walking over to the diagnostic machine linked to the cell. “It’s time to settle this once and for all.”
Petyr gave a small nod, a mad gleam in his eyes. Tomas had developed a healthy dislike for the man, finding his willingness to play God a little disquieting. But his assistant was both knowledgeable and efficient. As Tomas prepared to launch an animation sequence, Petyr was already checking the integrity of the hundreds of electromagnetic conduits that were about to flood the specialized cell with energy.
Tomas attached the blood vial to a long line IV drip. The ‘live’ corpse inside was about to receive prime blood of the werewolf.
The scientists waited for the blood to spread through the subject’s body. Tomas monitored its life signs carefully. The heart was beating strongly, propelled by a constant barrage of electromagnetic pulses. Given enough energy it would be possible to reanimate this corpse for a good half minute.
Tomas had steadfastly refused the use of live subjects and with good reason. He had inflicted all kinds of atrocities on his dead subjects in the name of discovery.
“What are the components , Petyr?” Tomas called.
“This one is mostly werewolf,” the assistant said. “A fair portion of goat, a little bit of snake.”
Tomas grimaced. He’d mapped most of the lycan genome and was still filling the gaps with the DNA strands of other animals. Mixing and matching was far from perfect, but usually enough to tell them what they wanted to know. Their primary focus was getting the lycan elements right as they progressed. A fully functional lycan wasn’t far away. In theory.
“Blood’s dispersed,” Petyr reported.
“On my mark,” Tomas said grimly. Petyr went and stood by the ignition switch.
“Three. Two. One. Go.”
Petyr hit the ignition with a flourish. Tomas settled back to watch diagnostics. Petyr positioned himself by a monitor. There were several cameras inside the cell.
Tomas noticed the thugs looking at each other, grinning. Fools. Reanimation always took time. Out of long habit Tomas drummed his fingers against the edge of his panel. Petyr cracked his knuckles nervously.
Silence descended within the Silo.
Crack. The abrupt sound of metal snapping.
“Jesus!” yelped Petyr, gripping the sides of his monitor.
Drawing on all the discipline he could muster, Tomas kept his eyes fixed on the all important diagnostic machine. Heart rate was through the roof. A cocktail of neurotransmitters were pinging all over it’s brain. It was thinking!
A shocking, ear-splitting scream erupted from inside the cell.
“It’s going berserk!” shouted Petyr.
“No, it just doesn’t understand,” Tomas said quietly, eyes glued to readouts that tracked the subject’s muscle mass and blood composition. Both were changing rapidly.
There was a bang as the subject launched itself against the cell door. Petyr flinched from his monitor. Another thud. A third left blood smeared on the frosted plexi-glass.
“Clear the glass,” ordered Tomas, striding up to the cell. Petyr toggled a slider that controlled the opacity of the glass. Tomas could now see in. The subject could see out.
Tomas’s breath caught in his throat. The thing was hideous. Every theory, every test carried out in this lab was based on the theory that under Flux conditions a body could rapidly transform using special RNA cache blueprints that were previously unavailable to the human body. It was simply a matter of unlocking them and convincing the body and mind that it needed to change.
The thing inside the cell had transformed alright - into a grotesque combination of the various DNA blueprints Tomas had created for it.
Some snake. Some goat. A lot of werewolf.
There was a name for this kind of creature. It was documented in Vladimir Prakow’s master work.
As Tomas watched the creature turned his head toward him, nostrils flaring wildly. It was a goat’s head, bloodied and bruised. The body rippled with muscle but was only partially covered with fur. The exposed, pulsating yellow flesh was sickening. The thing heaved with rage. Tomas could only imagine what kind of carnage it would unleash if it was free.
A long object hung poised in the air behind the creature. A tail, but also a snake. Tomas held a hand to his mouth, momentarily losing his nerve.
The hellish beast, an abomination created by his own hand, launched itself into the glass right in front of the scientist. It slammed into the inch-thick wall with incredible power, caving its own skull in. It crumpled to the floor, dead once more. The snake thrashed for several seconds before falling limp.
No one said a word. Hyperventilating, Petyr knelt against his monitor. The Berlin Club thugs had taken several steps back, ashen-faced.
One of the Tomas’s assistants rushed into the laboratory.
“This had better be good!” Tomas spat with uncharacteristic fury.
“Herr X has arrived, Dr. Verdano,” said the assistant in hushed tones.
Tomas straightened and took a deep breath.
“Good,” he said in a firm, clear voice. “Tell him we have a chimera.”
4 - Yasmin
New York, USA
YASMIN WOKE TO the alarm she’d set on her cell phone. Nine hours of dreamless sleep despite the fact she was on the couch. Her first night away from Hugo in three years had been surprisingly easy.
Her ex-boyfriend had gallantly offered the queen-size bed but Yasmin was determined to be independent.
If they were going to break up, she didn’t want to be in debt to Hugo in any way. She would pay him board until she found a place to live and take only what she had paid for herself.
Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Yasmin filled the coffee pot and peered through the drapes - yet another bleak, wintry day in New York. She had lots of work to do.
First she had to find the courier that faithfully delivered the blood that saved her life. There was a remote chance he knew more about his client than he was letting on. Second, she needed to continue her research on the Flux. The book she had found at the Public Library raised more questions than it did answers, but it also filled her with a sense of wonder and excitement.
What if it was true? What if an age of Flux had already begun and her life had been saved because of it? On its own the prospect seemed ludicrous. But when Yasmin considered the bizarre nature of her recovery she had to keep an open mind. Her doctors had confirmed where the mysterious blood had come from - a dire wolf.
The implications of this both confused and fascinated her.
Yasmin downed her coffee quickly and stepped into the shower. She found herself glancing at the door, half expecting Hugo to appear and beg her to stay. She hoped he was sulking in his room - she simply didn’t have time to be his emotional crutch right now.
Sure, she felt sad to be drifting apart from her boyfriend of six years, but over
the past few months her core values had changed forever. She had no place for Hugo in her new life, however harsh that seemed. Instead of overwhelming grief she felt relieved to be free. Free to live her new life however she saw fit.
Her mind ticking over with plans and ideas, Yasmin dressed and hurried from the apartment. Out on the cold, windswept street she ducked into the subway and was whistling toward central Manhattan within a minute.
On the train she accessed her Columbia University profile and withdrew from her photography course. The guilt she felt was connected more to what her parents would think of this. No doubt they would accuse her of throwing away her future.
Yasmin didn’t see it that way. She loved photography but she wasn’t quite passionate about it enough to devote her working life to it. Somewhere along the line, when she was lying in hospital during her recovery, her priorities changed.
Life was all about movement now. She would dive into the world and make it her own. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to survive, but she needed to test herself, confront her fears and beat them. Just like she had beaten death.
Somewhat relieved that she didn’t have to front up at university the following Monday, Yasmin stepped off the train and made her way to street level. A cold wind buffeted her as she weaved her way through a sea of black-coated pedestrians and stood in the relative sanctuary of a hot dog stand.
The U.S. Post Office was just across the road. Yasmin studied the elegant building as she munched on a hot dog with extra mustard, trying to muster all her powers of logic. What were the chances of seeing the blond courier?
It all depended on how many clients used private post boxes at the GPO. Yasmin hoped the courier made at least one daily run to the Post Office. If he did, it would most likely be in the morning. There was a comforting logic to her theory, but the reality was far different. Hundreds of people were passing by every minute. The courier could pass and she wouldn’t even notice.
The Lycan Society (The Flux Age Book 1) Page 4
