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Wildside Press
www.WildsidePress.com
Copyright ©1990, 2001 by Nick Pollotta
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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Wildside Press
BUREAU 13: Doomsday Exam
A publication of
Wildside Press
P.O. Box 301
Holicong, PA 18928-0301
www.wildsidepress.com
To contact: www.NickPollotta.com
All rights reserved.
Cover illustration by Larry Dixon.
This edition has been revised and expanded from the first edition. It includes the original short story, “Upgrading.”
No portion of this book may be reproduced by any means electronic or otherwise, without first obtaining the written consent of the author. For more information, contact:
Wildside Press or email: [email protected]
Wildside Press edition: March 2001
“Bureau 13” is based upon the RPG “Stalking The Night Fantastic,” copyright © 1982 by TriTac Games. www.TriTacGames.com
Join the “Bureau 13” fan club! www.Bureau-13.com
First Wildside Press edition: April 2001.
To: Scott Gordon & Diane Beuhlmeyer, Dale Denton, Rob Shapter, Martha Gallagher, Cathy, Bird, Sue, Amy, Joe Mulligan, the LaSalle Brothers, Pat Giguerre, Laura McFeeley, Trip, Charlie & Cathy, Ira & Sue, Rick Overton & Roger Sullivan, Elizabeth Jane Heap, Fishface, Officer Zane, Kathleen Liptrot, Karen Liptrot, Kathy Greg, the lovely Dana Carpender, Reverend Fletcher, the Holy Spook, and all the rest of the gang from my old coffeehouse The Grotto in Allendale, New Jersey. Lord almighty, what good times we had.
Plus, a special thanks to Kathi Somer. She knows why.
PROLOGUE
He awoke in a cage.
Remarkable was the fact that now he could identify it as a cage, and the place about him as a laboratory. A military research lab. The words flowed into his mind like silver water. The hairless male was remembering everything he had ever heard and was assimilating the information with astonishing speed.
Next to him were four other cages, each holding a naked male. Two of them were pinkish in color, one dark and one was golden with slanting eyes. But they were all males.
Stretching an arm through the iron bars, #1 was delighted to find that he could now reach the coat sleeve of a checkered jacket hanging from the back of a wooden chair. His arms were shorter than before, but also slimmer, so his reach had increased.
Tugging on the sleeve toppled the chair and it was within his grasp. Using the chair as a prod, #1 pushed over a file cabinet. It hit the concrete floor with a resounding crash, but that did not matter. This late at night there were no living guards, machines watched and patrolled the exterior grounds. But not inside.
As the file cabinet fell, the papers on top fluttered into the air, and a wire hanger skittered across the floor. Another male grabbed a wastepaper basket and used it to bat the sliding hanger to within the reach of a third prisoner. Quickly, #3 bent the wire into a usable form and began working on the lock of his cage. The rest marveled at the amazing dexterity of his slim fingers and began to examine their own hairless hands.
In moments, the door was open. Boldly walking upright to the other side of the lab, the naked humanoid removed the ring of keys from its peg on the duty roster board and unlocked all of the cage doors. Free at last, they gathered for a quick conference.
“There appears to have been unforeseen side-effects to the biological experiment,” #4 grunted, scratching at his shoulder.
“Irrelevant,” #2 snapped swinging his arms. “Escape must be our first consideration. You know what they had planned for us. Whether the...” he fumbled for the word.
“Serum,” #1 supplied. Apparently being the first injected, he was some two minutes ahead of the rest.
In response, #2 nodded his thanks. “Whether the serum failed or succeed, it was to be the green door for us!” He pointed at the dreaded portal near the supply room.
The group shuddered. When any test subject went into the green door, they never came out again, at least not in one piece. The word ‘dissection’ came unbidden into #1's mind. It made him sad that their creators thought so little of them.
“No, not escape,” #3 snarled, beating his chest with a fist. “We should kill them!”
“Kill?” #1 echoed startled.
Grimly, #2 nodded. “We have seen how the machines work. We can easily dup-lick-kate them, or take the devices with us. With the serum we can convert more of our people. Females!”
There were positive murmurs.
He went on. “Or we could return to the jungle and slowly build an army. We have always been many times stronger than them. Now we are smarter! They would easily fall to us, and soon the masters will be in the cages for us to experiment upon!”
Terribly shocked by this, #1 saw the rest of his brothers agreeing with the lunatic. How could this be? “They are our creators!” #1 pleaded, hands outstretched. “And more, they are distant cousins. Kin! How can we war with kin!”
“Their blood is not ours!” #4 snarled, his pink lips peeling back to reveal lines of square white teeth. “I say, we kill the scientists, steal the machines, and return to the jungle!”
The others made noises of approval and stamped their feet.
There was a faint chance that as their minds continued to evolve the others would change their opinion, but it was a chance that #1 was not willing to take. Leaping upon a desk, the manling bounded over to the far wall. Uncaring, he smashed his new hands through the glass and grabbed hold of the axe for fire. Turning about, #1 threw it with all of his strength straight for #5, the closest male.
The others hooted in anger and scattered. But #5 was so surprised by the unprompted actions, that he stood motionless for the split second necessary for the axe to arrive. The blade neatly split his neck, and the head rolled away. The hairless body limply dropped to the concrete, gushing red blood. Momentarily, #1 felt the urge to pound on his chest and bellow victory. But that was in the past, he was beyond such actions now.
Instinctively #1 bent to lick his wounds, but his hands had already stopped bleeding, the tiny cuts closing. Amazing! No wonder humans ruled the world.
In unison, the other males charged straight towards #1. Four of them were much too many for him to cope with at once, so he sprang to a workbench and leapt the scant few meters to the ceiling. Often in his earlier form, he had seen the exposed steel beams and longed to play among them. Now he must use them in war against his brothers. Yet rogues of the tribe must always be killed. He was human now. No question.
On the floor, #2 went for the bloody axe, while #3 dashed to the supply cabinet, and #4 headed for the door. Grabbing a water conduit, #1 ripped a chunk of the two-inch steel pipe free and hurled it down towards #4. The jagged end of the makeshift spear went completely through the chest of #4, pinning the humanoid to the wall. Then there was a spray of sparks, and blue lightning began to crackle over the horribly twitching body.
At the gory sight, #1 grunted in satisfaction. Not only was he two minutes ahead of them intellectually, but also physically. That was good. Because the remaining two were bull males, a lot bigger than him, and #1 would need any form of equalization if he was to save the creators from the wrongful wrath of the escaped test subjects.
A whirlwind of steel and wood, the axe came at #1. Ducking low, he caught the handle and threw it in return. Nimbly, #2 dodged out of the way, and the axe became embedded in the wooden desk. #2 grabbed the shaft with both hands and it snapped in half. Shrieking in anger, #2 threw the useless handle away and it crashed onto a complex array of glass tubes and bubbling beakers, smashing dozens of containers. Some of the fluids splashed onto the glowing pipe and burst into flames. A tiny portion of #1's brain gibbered in raw fear of their ancient enemy, but he forced it quiet. Battle!
Over by the supply cabinet, #3 had wrenched open the door and was rummaging about, obviously searching for something. But what? #1 knew the serum was not kept in there. It had to be refrigerated. What was he going after? Of course, the trank gun!
Grinning in triumph, #3 pulled into view the tranquilizer pistol. Working the breech, he thumbed in a feathered dart. Snapping the breech closed, the smug male clicked off the safety.
This was trouble. Even in this enhanced state, #1 did not know if he could out maneuver the nasty biting dart of sleep. Taking a desperate gamble, #1 dove off his perch and landed with his full weight upon a hanging light fixture. Slight as his new body was, certainly no more than 250 pounds, the added strain ripped the array of fluorescence tubes from the concrete ceiling. In a burst of sparks, he hurtled downward to crash directly upon #3, the brutal impact driving the shrieking male to the ground. A spray of glass from the shattered light tubes ricocheted off the wall and a piece stung #1 on the cheek.
Rolling off the wreckage, #1 scampered under a workbench. But #3 stayed under the twisted metal, screaming—screaming, as the countless slashes over his body poured forth blood. #1 could not understand. Why did this male not heal like himself? Was there something in floor-s-scent lights that caused his wounds to remain open? He touched his cheek and the fingers came away bloody. What a stroke of luck!
Crimson pooled around the sluggishly twitching body, and the moaning of #3 began to weaken. If there was time, #1 would have gladly stayed to rip out the throat of his fallen enemy, but #2 was pounding on the door trying to get out, and he had to give chase.
Ignited by the sparks, flames followed the trail of spilled chemicals across the room to the workbench, igniting the amassed collection of bubbling retorts. Vials cracked and beakers exploded spewing the blaze everywhere, fire racing along a trickle of clear fluid rapidly extending towards the door to the Supply Room.
Screaming in rage and fear, #2 yanked the steel handle off the exit jamming it closed permanently. Out of control, the humanoid smashed his fist into the door denting the metal. Sucking his bruised knuckles, #2 spun about and #1 was upon him!
Locked in mortal combat, the two rolled about in the debris, biting, clawing and kicking. Foreheads butted into jaws as teeth sought throats. Fingernails gouged flesh, leaving only shallow furrows, but the damage was minimal. They were too equally matched, and each knew the fight could last forever! Suddenly remembering the dent in the door made by the closed hand of the other male, #1 risked everything and jerked away from his opponent to slam a closed fist directly into the chest of his opponent.
Going stiff, the face of #2 contorted in a silent scream. Then opening his hand, #1 grabbed whatever he could inside and yanked the beating organs out of the other's quivering body. Arms flapping wildly, #2 slumped to the ground, dark blood gushing from the hideous gaping wound. Casting aside the fistful of guts, #1 proudly stood and finally allowed himself the full-throated roar of victory so long denied.
As if in reply, the room violently shook to an even louder thunder, pieces of the stone roof beginning to fall. Flame was everywhere! Billowing clouds of smoke blocked his vision. Frantic at the sight of the blaze, #1 dashed into the private office of the chief scientist and bodily threw himself through the plate glass observation window. Bleeding from a dozen cuts, #1 limped down the burning hallway trying to find escape but there was only chaos and stifling heat.
Little thunder! Fire! Big thunder. Pain! Then a deep blackness swallowed him whole.
Slowly, #1 awoke in a bed in a small metal room, the likes of which he was unfamiliar with, although the majority of the equipment lining the walls and roof he could identify as medical repair tools. He was wearing loose cloth.
“Be still, buddy,” an elderly woman said, holding his wrist with her fingertips. “You got pretty battered when the lab exploded.”
Buddy? #1 went very quiet. Human. They thought he was a fellow human being.
The female was draped in white, with colored cloth underneath. In her pockets were metal things that he did not recognize. “Now this may hurt,” the female warned, as she gently lifted the cloth to inspect the bloody bandages on his stomach.
Why was this female acting as a mother? He was in no pain.
“My God!” the female cried. “Orderly, come here!”
Stepping through a curtain appeared another male also dressed in white and wearing bits of glass on his face. “What is it, doctor?”
Ah, she was a scientist. That explained her interest in his body. He could smell the excitement from her, but why was it tainted with fear?
“Look at these wounds!” she ordered.
Crowding close, the male knelt and touched the metal hair holding the pieces of glass. “But I don't see any damage.”
“Exactly!” the doctor declared, lowering the sheet. Sitting on the other gurney, she stared at #1. “You, sir, should be in blood loss trauma. But now, Christ almighty, I don't understand...”
Just then, #1 had an odd feeling of moving to the right and of slowing down. He did not understand how this could be, he was not moving. Wait, perhaps he was. This must be a truck. He was in some sort of a medical truck!
There came a rubbery squeal, and several metallic clacks from the front of the medical truck. Then the curtains parted, and #1 could see yet another male seated at a control board with a big window. Although dressed similar to the other male, this man had the feel of a warrior and there was no smell of fear.
“Driver, I didn't order you to stop the ambulance,” the female snapped. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Everybody out,” he commanded.
The female was furious. “What! Why?”
Wordlessly, the driver took a small black animal skin flap from his pants and showed them a pointy metal thing that resembled a star in the sky. The old female and young male bowed with respect to this totem and dutifully left the ambulance, slamming the door closed behind them.
Pulling on a tiny stick at the bottom of his chair, the male swivelled about to face #1 directly. “Recognition code: Hercules,” he said with great meaning.
“Sir?” #1 asked, his stomach a knot of ice.
“Don't play innocent with me, soldier,” the driver said, displaying the totem again. “I'm Scott Willis, FBI. I know about the Pentagon research being done at this secret lab.” Willis lowered his voice. “The supersoldier serum. That's why I'm here, to keep a quiet eye on things for the president.”
Greatly frightened, #1 remained quiet. This was obviously a male of much importance. Maybe he should bare his hindquarters to him as a show of respect.
“When they first hauled your body in here, I had thought you were a member of the staff, or maybe a guard,” Willis said, returning the totem to a fold in his cloth. “But plainly I was wrong. Your healing rate is fantastically increased, and I can see the imprints of your hands in the metal railing of the gurney from when you were unconscious. That's magnified strength.”
Licking his lips, #1 said nothing.
The FBI agent leaned closer. “You're one of the Marines who volunteered as a human test subject for the serum, aren't you?”
“Yes, sir,” #1 answered truthfully. “I have been injected with the serum.”
Frowning deeply, Scott clasped hands on top of his knees. “Okay, son. What the hell happened tonight?”
“There was a fight,” #1 said hesitantly. “And I had to destroy the lab to protect i
t from falling into the wrong hands.” So easily did the near lie come to him. This was another aspect of evolution?
“What do you mean by wrong hands?” Willis demanded. “Enemy agents? Terrorists?”
“One of the other subjects decided that he was greater than human, and we should conquer the world.”
“Megalomania,” Agent Willis sighed, sitting upright. “We were afraid that something like that would happen. Homo Sapiens versus Homo Superior. Strategy and Tactical says it would be a short, bloody war, with them winning.”
Not understanding, #1 nodded his head in the affirmative.
Willis let his pink fingers do a spider dance on the cloth-covered leg. “The notes? Papers? Samples?” he asked.
“Destroyed, sir.”
“Then you're probably the only one. Maybe the only supersoldier there will ever be.”
“Seems likely, sir,” #1 said aloud.
Special Agent Willis gave a wry grin. “What's your name, soldier?”
Experimental Test Subject #1, was what he almost said. “I don't know, sir.”
“Eh? Explain that.”
“Everything before the injection is a blur.” At least, that was the truth.
Outside, another car rolled past the parked ambulance as Willis scowled at the big patient for a moment. “With the files destroyed we may never learn your name, or even which military outfit we should notify,” he said, reclining in the chair. “So what we have here is a soldier with superhuman abilities, no memory, a top secret clearance and who is believed dead. Plus, somebody whose return to society could cause serious trouble for the Pentagon. Son, you're a prime candidate for the Bureau.”
“Sir?” #1 asked confused.
Lighting a cigarette, Scott exhaled a long stream of smoke and explained. Long ago it became apparent that supernatural, paranormal, transdimensional and even unearthly dangers actually threatened the real-life security of the American people. So the government had established a covert agency to protect the population from these bizarre and often deadly events.
Doomsday Exam [Bureau 13 #2] Page 1
