by Mark Clodi
“Hold on there, Thomas. First you say if we disrupted their brains we might be able to disable them. How? Second, Dan is our control; if we start changing how we treat him we lose a valuable scientific source of data...”
“Dan is not a good control, he was contaminated by accident and that would hardly qualify him by any scientific method I know of.” Sentry paused and laughed, a surprising bark of humor that Heather had never heard before, “Of course this qualifies more as a disaster than an experiment at this point. Oh Heather, I am ruined by this fiasco! Any data I have will be likened to that of the Nazi doctors of world war two and discounted.”
“Not if we bring a cure to aging to the masses, they will not care how it got to them, no one will. Doctor how do you propose to stop or quell the brain activity?”
“Destruction of the tissue would be the first step. Perhaps a frontal lobotomy?”
“You cannot be serious!”
“It would be a good test and might help Vic pass the inspection tomorrow.”
“That is barbaric.”
“You proposed burning him alive.”
“I...” Heather realized she couldn't win this part of the argument, “You are right, of course. Okay but lobotomies are illegal and the equipment for the procedure is long gone. It is not like we can send off to the medical supplier for a lobotomy kit.”
“It turns out we won't need to.” Sentry pulled opened the bottom drawer of his desk. “I inherited this from my uncle; he performed the procedure three times, described it to me in detail and gave me the actual equipment he used.” Sentry pulled out a long wooden box about two inches thick and four wide, and sat it on his desk. He flipped the clasp open with one hand to reveal a long slender piece of stainless steel that ended in a hand grip.
“It is longer than I thought it would be.”
“That was my first thought when I saw it too. Nonetheless, it is the tool need to get the job done. The procedure was refined so that it could be done with minimal training by institution caregivers. Raise the eyelid of the patient, stick the tip of the needle alongside the upper edge of the cornea, position the device so that it is at a ninety degree angle to the subjects face and give it a sharp hit with a hammer to break through their skull. Insert the needled to the mark prescribed on the edge.” Heather looked closer and saw there were marks inscribed in the edge of the tool to use as a form of measuring. “Then saw the handled up and down a few times. Repeat the procedure on the other side to make certain both halves of the brain are disconnected. This should damage Vic enough to keep him complacent for tomorrow. The only side effect should be a black eye at the most.”
“Why do you want to keep him alive?”
“I don't quantify him as alive now. I want to keep him in his current condition to finish our study.”
Heather knew the studying would never end. The chances of Sentry actually finishing their research was very slim, unless she could sway him to take some risks. Brusquely she said, “Our sponsors will not fund us forever, we would have a difficult time getting the resources we need if we do not have anything to show for this soon.”
“Something I am aware of. I think I can produce a verifiable result in less than three months’ time, say by June. Do you think the money would keep pouring in if I could show them a modest increase in lifespan by then?”
“But...but how? There is no way it would be ready that soon!”
Sentry shook his head, “It will. I can modify the serum and focus more closely on the target areas, specifically I can modify how the diploid cells divide, I believe I can extend the division by twenty percent.”
“Twenty percent? That could mean another fifteen years of life for the average person.”
“Perhaps, cell life does not necessarily translate into extended human life.”
“It would be a start. Can you do it though?”
“Honestly, I will be disappointed to hit the twenty percent number, I feel confident that I could double it.”
Shortly thereafter Heather with wild fantasies of how she was going to spend all the money she made flashing through her head. She was distracted and, therefore, did not notice the thumping sound from where Dan was being kept.
Back in his office Sentry was smiling, something he normally didn't do. He took out the lobotomy tool and playfully pointed it towards his own eye, getting it as close as possible while his eye was open, then chuckled and slid it back into its box. Putting the box away he thought about his plans for the next few days and how disappointed both Heather and Vic were going to be. He turned back to his computer and pulled up a program that opened a split screen that showed both Vic and Dan's rooms at the same time. Dan was moving again, and Vic was lying in bed with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep. Anyone watching Sentry would have thought the man had been turned to stone, so riveted was he to the screen. A keen observer would have noted that his small smile gradually widened over the course of the evening.
Chapter 7
Vic was practicing again. He let his head rest on his pillow and concentrated, focusing his attention on Dan. The other man was in the room next to his, tied down much as Vic was. Dan was, however, next to the wall that divided them and could thump the wall with his hand, if he wanted to. Vic had discovered there was a connection between the two men, one that ran deeper than merely one man killing the other.
Coming back after death had changed Vic, he knew he had died, the doctors told him so. The eggs heads had noted the physical changes despite Vic's attempts to hide them, for instance he was stronger, so now he wore industrial sized restraints. He also didn't sleep anymore, at least not yet. 'Time enough for that when I am really dead.' He told himself. The physical changes were interesting; however from Vic's point of view, the mental changes were more important. Sure, seeing in the dark was good, being able to pick out the living through walls was nice, but nothing compared to Dan. 'Dan is mine.' Vic thought to himself and it was true, somehow he was connected to the other man, he caught images of the room Dan was in, for instance.
The visions were faded and a bit fuzzy, like looking through a dirty garage window and it took him awhile to figure out what he was seeing. Today he realized the communications were two way, he could pass along instructions to Dan too. And the man obeyed them, Vic had been practicing all evening, trying not to get too excited when he realized what he had discovered, that he wasn't alone and that he might have a useful ally to escape with. An expendable ally, because if Dan didn't work out, well Vic could always make a new sidekick. Unfortunately Dan was just as tied down as Vic was.
The staff had taken no chances with the other man, 'Probably did it when they saw how strong I was. That was stupid, showing how strong I had gotten.' He had demonstrated it in the belief that the good doctor would release him from bed once he saw how healthy Vic was. 'Hah! As if that would happen.' Vic had not read Frankenstein, he had seen a movie version of it though and he thought he could relate to the creature now; normal people fear those who are stronger than they are. Any minute Vic was expecting a mob of angry visitors to burst into the lab and demand his death. Maybe they would even have pitchforks and torches.
Vic concentrated on the other zombie, trying to get a clearer vision of its surroundings through his connection with it. Suddenly, inexplicably, the picture was there. It only lasted a few seconds, but for those seconds Vic had a focused, clear picture of the room and the bonds holding the Dan down. He smiled broadly, forgetful of the cameras that were observing him. 'They used a leather cuff on his chest! And two sets of normal cuffs on his hands!' Excitement coursed through Vic, they had skimped on the restraints after all! Vic could snap a normal hand cuff chain like it was string, he had every confidence that the zombie next door could get through two of them with ease. Escape was now just a matter of time.
Chapter 8
“Okay Vic, now try to relax, this next procedure is to try something new, a way to get you to rest a little.” Sentry told the man. There were five people
crammed into Vic's room, two guards, both of the doctors and, of course, the patient. Vic had allowed himself to be strapped down tightly, there was a brief moment when he could have struggled and perhaps would have won free, but he didn't think Sentry was going to get rid of him this morning, before the prison inspector arrived.
“Doctor...” Heather Wilkins said as she watched Sentry pull out the long lobotomy needle.
“What?” Sentry asked in a tone she had never heard from him before.
“Maybe we should consider trying other sedatives?”
“The sedation didn't work; the other drugs were so ineffective as to be useless.”
“So we are going to do this....without any...with no medication at all?” Heather asked.
“The patient has been medicated per normal procedure; he will be fine Doctor Wilkins.”
Heather said nothing; the medical mask she wore hid her frown. Instead she placed an eye patch over one of Vic's eyes and left the other free, but surrounded it with a short tunnel of gauze, which limited his vision to a small spot on the ceiling.
“So what is with this setup doc? Some sort of eye test?”
“No Vic, it’s a bit of an experiment, if it works it should help us get through the inspection today.”
“A sedative?”
“It should calm you down.” Doctor Sentry's face, wearing a green medical mask, appeared over Vic's open eye, “Are you ready? It may sting for an instant, but I am sure you can take it for a moment.”
“Don't see as I got much choice, hit me doc, I am ready.”
Only Vic wasn't, the doctor came up with a long needled and pointed it towards his face, Vic felt Doctor Wilkins pull his eye open and his sight was filled with the long, thin shard of steel.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” Vic yelled as the point of the needle struck the top of his orbital cavity with a sharp pinch.
“That is it. Easy Vic, that should be the worst of it, just relax Vic, it will go easier if you calm down.”
Both guards were holding Vic's arms down, leaving Heather and Sentry at the man's head. Vic could feel the needle, it was not poking his eye, in fact he could still look around and had a close up view of the shaft of steel, it was long, extending a good eight inches up away from his face, it had a rugged looking, stainless steel handle, but it didn't look like a syringe to Vic. The shaft of steel went out of focus as it descended into his orbital cavity, though he could feel it, cool and hard against the top of his eye.
The next moment doctor lifted a small stainless steel hammer and before Vic could so much as try to jerk his head aside, Sentry brought it down with a sharp blow on the end of the ice pick. The sharp point drove through the thin bone of his ocular cavity and came to rest buried deep in the middle of Vic's head. It rested in between the two sides of Vic's brain, not damaging it, yet. Vic put all his efforts into pulling one of his arms free, even with a hefty guard on top of it and secured by both metal and leather restraints, his arm lifted. The tortured metal of the cuffs bent and stretched, then, abruptly, came to a stop as Doctor Sentry pushed the hand of the thin metal probe towards Vic's chin, severing the connections between the two sides of the his brain.
Vic started babbling, a loud incoherent stream of random words, they were placed in no order and made no sense, but each was pronounced perfectly. Gone was his effected nasal tone of a New York thug, in its place was the perfect diction of a Harvard graduate.
“It appears our Vic was not being truthful with us.” Sentry said as he pulled the needle out of the man's head. He wiped it once with piece of gauze, noting the thick, black, not quite normal blood that stained the cloth as he did so. Heather raised Vic's other eyelid and Sentry repeated the procedure on the other side. Vic's babbling ceased halfway through and he just lay there quietly, almost as if asleep.
“It looks like we finally found something that affects him.” Sentry noted to Heather.
“But for how long? He healed the other injuries overnight, if not sooner. This damage could be gone in hours.”
“The inspector will be through with us by then. Jeff,” Doctor Sentry said to one of the guards, “Could you get new restraints to replace the ones he damaged? Stronger ones if you can, if not bring three of those for each arm.”
The guard nodded, then hesitated and said, “Doctor?”
“Yes?”
“The restraints are only as strong as the bed.” he said pointing to where the metal of the bed had been bent upwards by Vic.
“Oh, I see. What about binding them together under the bed? Then if he pulled on one side it would just pull his other arm?”
Jeff nodded and said, “I'll see what I can do.”
“Good. Heather, we need to talk. Can you meet me in my office in ten minutes?”
“Of course.”
Bother doctors left the guards to clean up the remains of the simple procedure and secure Vic. Minutes later Heather brought in two cups of coffee to Sentry's office. She set one down in front of him and he nodded his appreciation.
“I have been thinking about what you said, the need for a better control group and I spoke to the prison this morning to solicit more volunteers. I would like you to travel down there and do the initial history and physicals.”
Heather arched one eyebrow at him, “Really? You want to make more of them?”
“You are the one who argued for a better control. That requires more volunteers.”
“Even though, technically, we are killing them?”
“Heather...” Sentry paused, “We both know this experiment can go one of two ways. One path leads to riches and fame for us with a treatment for the one disease that kills one hundred percent of those it infects; aging. The other path leads to us locked up in the very place our volunteers come from, most probably on death row.”
“I am...surprised, surprised to see this side of you. However I do believe in what we are doing and I think it is the right path. I will go check the prisoners for you. When can we get them?”
“The warden says we can draw from the pool of volunteers we already have, the ones we gave the initial interviews to, but no health screening. We can have them tomorrow, so long as the inspection today is passed.”
“Ah, I see this morning’s procedure in a new light now. Very pragmatic.”
“Vic needs to be controlled.” Sentry stated.
“It was a risk, we could have killed him.”
“Most of the lobotomized died of infection, a few died from internal hemorrhaging, but I didn't feel we would have to worry about either with Vic. Though I think if we destroyed his brain function, it would kill him. Again.”
“Why do you think that?”
“First it is the last functioning organ in his body, the only one we can get reliable data from, so, for some reason, it's still important. Second, the procedure we just completed affected him. I wasn't sure it would, but it is obvious that the two sides of his brain still talk to each other. I just disrupted the communications. We need to see how long the disruption lasts.”
“Will we...test that theory on one of the new volunteers?”
“I think it would be prudent. I asked for phase two testing, ten inmates.”
“Ten? Where are we going to put them? We can't crowd them into the cells we have.”
Sentry shook his head, dismissing her statement, “We absolutely can and will, there are four bunks in each, we will use them, plus we have the two solitary cells and the medical rooms. We will work it out, besides they will all be like Dan soon, and he has not complained once. Speaking of Dan could you have Gabe move him to the solitary cell, out of the way? I wouldn't want any awkward questions by Doctor Smith today.” Doctor Burt Smith was the state of Florida's medical inspector. He was an older man, retired from active practice and looked as large as a linebacker. All he did was inspect prisons and their medical facilities for the state it kept him on the road almost all the time. He had come by many times while the facility was being set up, but his vi
sits now tended to be few and far between. Sentry admired the man's physic, but was wary of his intellect, which was still keen even after sixty years.
“Sure, I will arrange everything with Gabe, then run down to the prison for the inspections. How strict should I be?” Heather asked. Many of the prisoners who had volunteered were former drug users and more than a few had seen some injuries before and during their prison stay.
“Take anyone with old injuries first, leave the drug users for last, especially the meth amphetamine users.” said Sentry. Heather knew he had a bias against meth users, but so far she had not been able to find out why.
“Will Pitache and Williams work for this round?” Heather asked. The two were earlier volunteers that had already passed through the initial screening.
“Certainly, use your judgment.”
Heather left and the doctor sat for a moment contemplating his coffee. After a moment he took it to the small sink in his office and poured it out. Returning to his desk he pulled up the cameras for Vic’s room and awaited Doctor Smith's arrival.
Chapter 9
Vic could not string a sentence together, he knew he was Vic, he knew he was in the hospital, but the rest of life was a mixed montage of words, pictures and sounds he could not understand. At one point he felt Dan being taken away and grew sad at the thought, but he didn't know why should be sad or how he knew the man.
Inside his head the connections physically separated by the barbaric procedure slowly started to heal. The problem was that his brain was not functioning as well as it should and some of the healing went awry, some pathways were restored to normal, some were mis-connected to parts of the brain and others were simply orphaned, cutting off memory entirely. Like little termites inside his head the tissue wriggled and sought to make things normal. The zombies healing efforts were astoundingly fast, but his body would never return his brain to what it once was.
