FreeForm: New Birth
FreeForm, Volume 4
Orrin Jason Bradford
Published by Porpoise Publishing, 2019.
Table of Contents
Title Page
FreeForm: New Birth
Conception could breed destruction...
Part One | The Accident
Room 707
Denise
Morning
Saturday
Part Two
Atlanta
Harem
Liz
Bad News
Madame Sarrah
Part Three
Disappearance
Spells
Preggies
Relief
Delivery
Revenge
Part Four
Resort | Two years later
Ten Percent
Birthdays
Frosty
Wrath
Lockup
Spring
Time
Marlington
Trouble
Party Time
Tripping
Big Shot
Promises
Danville
Breakdown
Control
Intensive Care
Whirl
Sympathy
Bonus Content | FreeForm: New Power | Book 5 of the FreeForm Series | Enjoy this sample chapter | Escape
A Message from Orrin Jason Bradford | (a.k.a. W. Bradford Swift)
Acknowledgments
Porpoise Publishing
About the Publisher
FreeForm:
New Birth
Orrin Jason Bradford
Conception could breed destruction...
Flip MacDougal has always spelled trouble, but his tricks are all in good fun, and a few ruffled feathers are no cause for concern. After all, it’s not as if the pranks of a playboy could endanger the entire human race...right? When Flip drops in on long-time friend Lionel Adam at his cutting edge genetic research lab, the answer to this question reveals itself with frightening clarity.
Having acquired an otherworldly larva from past colleague Dr. Pritchard, Lionel and his team of scientists had been studying the sample for years, but all of their work was for naught. Thanks to Flip, one fateful spill results in a mess that may never be cleaned up. Making contact with the foreign material is more dangerous than anyone ever expected...and, soon, Flip’s genetics begin to morph.
Unfortunately, these changes go unnoticed as the man-about-town proceeds to visit his numerous female companions. These women, collectively known as ‘Flip’s Harem’, will come to share more than a churlish lover. Progenies are pending...and they won’t be fully human.
Herein, Part IV of The FreeForm Series, disparate worlds are interwoven. O.J. Bradford proves himself a master of his craft.
Part One
The Accident
Room 707
707. This is the room; Flip MacDougal thought as he glanced up and down the hallway. The institutional gray walls and black and white checkerboard floor made him feel like he had stepped into a black and white television show from the forties. If his information was correct, Dr. Lionel Adams, one of the most prominent genetic researchers in the world, worked on the other side of the door. It had been easy up to this point to gain entrance to the lab. Denise, his seductively attractive connection was right when she'd told him breaking into Bio-Vita would be a piece of cake.
Flip tried to imagine the look of astonishment that would be on the doctor's face, finally deciding it was easier to see it in person. He adjusted the mirrored sunglasses, then moved the attache case from his right hand to his left so he could take the black enameled card from his trench coat pocket, an essential item provided by Denise. Within the thin layers of plastic, resided the magnetic code to this as well as other doors throughout the research facility. He placed the card in front of the screen of the security lock so it could read the holographic image imprinted on the card. The latch silently tumbled open, and a thin ray of light appeared at the edge of the door. Flip pushed it open and walked into the lab.
Across the room, a lone figure sat on a wooden stool, his back hunched over a binocular microscope. The white lab jacket, draped over angular shoulders, was motionless, its wearer intensely concentrating on the scope. Flip stepped lightly across the room, his Reeboks muffling the footsteps as though someone had cut the sound on the television. He stood behind the scientist, reveling in the triumph of the moment. Flip lowered the attaché case to the floor, careful not to disturb the silence. His gloved hand released the handle and slowly joined its partner. The two hands traveled steadily towards the hunched shoulders. As though on cue, Lionel raised his head away from the microscope. Perhaps a premonitory warning had finally knifed its way into his consciousness. The hands continued towards the neck, paused, and then moved again, not to the neck but toward the eyes. The smooth leather caressed the eyes, closing off all light. "Guess who?" Flip asked, his soft voice shattering the silence like an alarm.
Lionel Adams sat in front of the microscope, entranced by the sight of the mutated cells, slowly becoming aware of a sharp pain in his lower back, a product of sitting too long in the same position. It's incredible, he thought, how those tiny flagellated cells could be such an essential part of the creation of life. He continued to watch, hoping to find at least one altered in some way. Perhaps it would move a little faster or have a more direct path across the slide; anything that would suggest a change in the cell.
Only the twitch on his nose was finally able to break his concentration. Sneezing while looking through a microscope can be devastating on your sight, he thought as he looked up for a moment and sniffed in an attempt to hold back the sneeze. Still concentrating, now on the sneeze, the sudden loss of vision followed immediately by a strange voice behind him sent Lionel leaping off of the lab stool. While still in the air, he twisted in an attempt to see who was behind him.
"What the...who the..." He gasped as he fought to regain his balance. The intruder stumbled back, laughing hysterically, and tripped on something behind him.
"Oh, God...did I ever get you...Oh, what an expression..."
Lionel finally found his balance, coming to rest against the counter, his hands grasping it for support. Glaring harshly at the intruder, he tried unsuccessfully to see through the man's disguise.
"Don't you recognize me?" The stranger asked as he pulled first one glove, then the other, from his hands. Then removing a pair of sunglasses, he placed all three items in his coat pocket. "Your lifelong friend and fraternity brother?"
"Flip? Flip MacDougal?" Lionel stared unbelievingly at the man, unconvinced his old friend could be in his secure, top-secret lab. He slowly recognized the truth. "Flip, can it be...yes, it can. Flip, I swear, I'll strangle you with my bare hands this time."
Still weakened from laughing so hard, Flip circled away from his friend.
"Now Lionel, control yourself. Remember, you're a respected scientist and community leader, or something like that." The two men circled the stool, exchanging places.
"I swear, Flip, you've outdone yourself this time. If I weren't so glad to see you, your life wouldn't be worth diddly right now. As it is, you still deserve a thorough thrashing." Lionel continued to stalk his old friend but stopped suddenly as he noticed Flip's hand glide across the lab counter. As though in slow motion, he watched as it collided with the glass beaker half-filled with an aquamarine colored reagent.
"Watch out..." he began but knew it was too late. "Don't get it..." but stopped again, realizing the second warning was also too late as the beaker tipped over, spilling its contents across the counter.
"Damn. Sorry about that, Lionel. I hope it wasn't something important." Fli
p looked around frantically for something to wipe up the spilled liquid. Spying a box of Kimwipes, he yanked several tissues out of the box.
"No, don't do that," Lionel shouted as he grabbed Flip's wrist, inches from the pooled liquid. "Let me clean this up. Go down the hall and wash your hands thoroughly. Use plenty of soap. I'd let you do it here, but I don't keep soap in the lab."
"No problem." Flip said as he started to wipe his hand on the trench coat then stopped a look of concern on his face. "Is it acid or something?"
"No, it's...it's just best you get it off your hand as soon as you can, that's all. Now go. I'll clean this up." Lionel reached into his pocket and pulled out his ID badge. "Here, take this in case someone stops you. Tell them you're assigned to this lab."
"No problem, Li. You know, I can always talk my way out of anything. I need to bleed the old snake, anyway."
"I'm beginning to remember," Lionel replied. He watched until the door closed behind his friend, then quickly grasped a small glass pipette and bulb and began carefully sucking the liquid back into the beaker.
Flip pushed the door to the men's room open. With each passing minute, he was less concerned about the fluid remaining on his hand having any adverse effect. With nature calling with increasing urgency, he walked to the nearest urinal and, without bothering to untie his coat, raised its hem and unzipped his pants.
"Ah, the pause that refreshes," he muttered as he stepped a little closer to the urinal. As he finished, he noticed a small pubic hair sticking tenaciously to the tip of his penis. Without thinking, he picked at the hair to remove it. As he did so, he felt a stinging at the tip of his penis and realized he'd used the contaminated hand.
"Shit," he muttered as he quickly shook his penis and returned it to his pants. "I better wash this stuff off before it starts to eat my hand off."
But the damage had already been done. Microscopically, the complex compound from his hand mixed with the fluids of Flip's organ. Molecule after complex molecule traveled up the urethra. The journey was a slow one, but there was plenty of time. The journey would be complete, and the near-magical molecules would be well seated in the testicular tissue of Flip's sexual organ long before there would be a call for him to flush the biological tube again. By then, it would be too late. By then, the seeds of a new birth would have formed in Flip's loins.
"Important?" Lionel muttered as he worked to save as much of the precious fluid as possible. "Nine months of distillation to get this much template and it took Flip less than that many seconds to jeopardize my entire project." He shook his head, but a smile crept across his face. He had to admit it was good to see the old bastard again.
Lionel had finished rinsing and collecting the fluid for re-distillation when Flip returned to the lab. Before Flip had a chance to speak, Lionel said, "Don't bother asking me about it, Flip. You know I can't tell you what I'm doing here, but you damn sure better tell me what you're doing here; more importantly, how did you get in?"
After inspecting the nearby counter to be sure it was clear of any glassware, Flip pushed himself onto it. "It was quite simple, Lionel, but before I tell you, do you promise not to report it to anyone?"
"You know I wouldn't do anything to get you into trouble."
"It's not me I'm concerned with. Promise?"
"Sure."
"Well, you know the lady who sits at the front door?"
"Yeah," Lionel replied slowly, a look of recognition appearing on his face. "You mean Denise?"
"Yes, Ms. Denise Cabbot; very gracious lady. Quite captivating."
"You bribed her, didn't you?"
"Well, in a manner of speaking, but I want you to know, she is very good at what she does. When I first approached her, she wouldn't have anything to do with my plan, not until she thoroughly checked my story and verified I was only a slightly sick college buddy with a fondness for playing practical jokes."
"How did you get to her?"
"Well, you know, the MacDougal charm has always been quite an effective negotiating tool."
"When do you pay?"
"Tonight at 8:30. It was a fantastic bit of negotiating. It was a win-win situation. I win by getting in and scaring bejesus hell out of my old buddy, and I win again by having the opportunity to go out with one of God's luscious creatures. Win-win."
"Flip, when will you ever settle down and get serious about your life?"
"Lord willing, never, if getting serious means giving up the pursuit of the fairer sex. It's a MacDougal tradition, one I am only too happy to perpetuate. Besides, my philandering gives you an escape, a release valve. If you didn't have my escapades to tsk-tsk about, you'd have to spend some of your precious research time living your escapades. So you see, in reality, I'm doing my patriotic duty, keeping you here in this lab coming up with the next...what did you say your project was?"
"Good try, Flip. I didn't, nor will I. How long has it been Flip, two years since the last time you darkened my doorstep?"
'Two years, three months and fourteen days. I counted it up back at the hotel while I was planning this latest mission."
"By the way, where are you staying?"
"At the Triangle Park Radisson in this most sterile of research parks. I must say you have found your element here. I would never have dreamed there could be such a concentration of eggheads in such a folksy state like North Carolina, but The Research Triangle has more eggheads than Perdue has chickens."
"Well, you know you're welcome to stay at my place, although I know you won't."
"That's right. It cramps my style," Flip replied as he pushed off from the counter. "Besides, the Radisson has more than a passable bar and an indoor pool. My suite has a whirlpool and..." glancing at his watch, "... if I don't get myself on the road, I'll be late for Ms. Cabbot. I know you wouldn't want to be responsible for that."
"You tell Denise she has a lot of explaining to do to one special researcher. It'll be a cold day in hell before I forget the fright you gave me."
"Well, I would imagine despite her taste of the MacDougal charm she might consider making it up to you in some gracious fashion."
"No, no. I know better than that. Once they taste a night of MacDougal, they're never the same, isn't that what you always say."
"Yes, that's true, but I wanted to make you feel better."
Lionel picked up the beaker containing the precious liquid and carefully placed it well out of Flip's reach. "I'll just hang out here in my little dungeon for a few more hours, but will you be around for the weekend?"
"Oh sure, I have a couple of obligations in the evenings, but I've reserved the entire daytime for my old fraternity buddy. And, by the way, it would appear from your 'dungeon' that my old buddy is doing quite well for himself here at Bio-Tita-Vet."
"Bio-Vita-Tech," Lionel corrected. "And yes, they've been very generous with the grant money. Private industry has certain advantages over the academic scene. Give me a call later. I'd enjoy a weekend of reminiscing. Should I call security to escort you down?"
"No, that won't be necessary. I promise I'll leave straight away." Flip stooped to pick up the briefcase.
"By the way, what's in the briefcase?"
"What's in the beaker?"
"You know I can't tell you that."
"Well then, I'll take the secret of the briefcase to my grave." He grasped the case under his arm securely. "Sure you won't reconsider?"
"I'll pass, thank you. Remember, straight out. If Security catches you sneaking around, they aren't likely to settle for a date with you."
After Flip had left, Lionel returned to his work area. He glanced around the spacious lab at the glistening beakers and the bright lights of the latest, state-of-the-art equipment. Yes, Bio-Vita-Tech had been good to him, and he had returned the favor in kind many times over. He found himself staring at the diplomas over his desk.
Upon each one, in various forms of Old English type was his name, Lionel J. Adams. Fine peasant stock that had made good, he thought, remembering
the words his father had used to describe his only son. And now Jacob Adam's son was on the brink of his most brilliant discovery to date.
Lionel lifted the small beaker up to the light and slowly swirled the blue liquid. Perhaps, just perhaps, within the small beaker was the breakthrough Lionel had worked so arduously to produce since his graduation from Duke over seven years ago. Could it be within the molecules of this liquid was the key to unlocking man's true capacity, the ninety to ninety-seven percent of the mind which man had, up to this point in his evolution, been unable to tap? It was too early to be sure, but already there had been some remarkable breakthroughs.
Oh sure, Lionel had had more than his share of setbacks as well. Like the rodents that had been born with enough legs, they resembled centipedes and the guinea pigs that could shatter glass with their shrill whistles. Those had been in the early days before he had understood the technology of recombinant DNA. He didn't completely understand it now, but he was closer than he once was.
He now knew for sure that within the special blue-green algae was the raw material of the unique template he had been looking for—the model which allowed him to re-structure the DNA molecule, the code of life, to whatever shape and configuration he desired.
Take, for instance, the golden retriever pups he had been working with most recently. Their learning quotient was extraordinary. There was a strong indication they could manage rudimentary language differentiation. They were communicating with their trainer. No talking Pluto yet, but not far off.
Lionel placed a stopper firmly into the beaker and walked over to the refrigerator. As he spun the combination on the special lock, he recalled the most recent report that had sent him back to the lab. The Retrievers had suddenly developed an aggressive streak that had been unexpected and far from desirable. It appeared, despite their sudden evolutionary leap, there had been an equal reversal to their ancestral tendency to form aggressive packs.
No, the template was not perfected, not quite. He placed the beaker in the special container in the refrigerator and pushed it to the back. Tomorrow he would filter the fluid again to clear it of any possible impurities and run spectrophotometry on it to be sure it had not been contaminated, but for today he was finished. It was getting late, not that Lionel often worried about leaving the lab at any set time. But of late he had started frequenting a small church close to his home, particularly on Wednesday nights during Bible study. If he left now, he'd still have time for a quick dinner before the services began.
New Birth Page 1
