Clay’s sister had married a Jewish doctor, and even though his mother had cried her eyes out every night for a month Clay thought he was a pretty decent guy. Of course when he talked about him to others he always added “for a Jew.” That was two years ago, and he was looking forward to the holidays with his nephew and his newborn niece. She was just three months old, and he still hadn’t seen her yet. As he walked with Aribert, Clay’s mind kept wandering back and forth between his sister and her husband, and the man standing next to him that once on a whim took a prisoner, castrated him, removed one kidney, and took apart the other while it was still inside the young man’s body. He’d done all this without anesthesia. Finally, he decapitated the young man, boiled his skull until the flesh was gone, and kept it as a paperweight. Clay couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be welcome in his brother-in-law’s house if he knew that Clay associated with a man like Aribert. Clay kept walking, and tried desperately to remind himself that he was a professional, and that as a professional he kept his personal feelings to himself.
“So Aribert…where’s your accent?” Clay said, trying to make small talk in order to stop thinking about Aribert’s file.
“The beauty of my native tongue is unfortunately a terrible liability for me now.” The doctor said. After a few more steps he continued, “The public just never understood my work, and I fear that I’ll be hunted for my entire life.”
“Well then it’s a good thing that you’re here right Doc?”
Aribert sighed, “When I agreed to this…I was not informed I would be trading a prison cell for what amounts to another prison cell. Although I admit my current cell is larger, and has some comforts…it is still a prison nonetheless.”
“The alternative though is having them hunt you down and put you on trial…and you know that after all this time you’ve worked for Uncle Sam there is no way we’re going to let you testify about anything…correct?”
“Is that a death threat Mr. Bertrand?” Aribert said haughtily. His eyebrow arched and he stared at the man as if daring him to take action.
“Nope, it’s just a little free advice. My time is valuable, and I don’t want to waste it hunting you down.” Clay said calmly, but firmly.
Aribert stopped and turned around. The Doctor’s blue gray eyes were so dark that they were practically black. The v-shaped scar on his right cheek twitched as he seemed to be considering his options. Finally, he grinned, “I appreciate the warning. I’ll take it under advisement should I ever attempt to flee.”The doctor didn’t wait for a response. He simply turned and led Clay to the labs. It was a long walk. Aribert opened the door and motioned Clay to step into the lab. Once inside, Clay could barely breathe over the stench. There was a drain at the center, and the room had a gentle slope designed to move everything to the previous mentioned drain. The room was built with a sprinkler system mounted onto the ceiling. The sprinklers could be turned on as needed to wash all the filth down the drain. It was a sharp contrast from everything else he’d seen up until this point.
Aribert took a deep breath and grinned as though he’d smelled a bouquet of roses, or a beautiful woman’s perfume, “The smell might be a bit much for your nose, but you’ll get used to it…eventually. Now follow me because you’ll want to familiarize yourself with the project so that you can brief your superiors.”
Cages lined the outside of the room. Some were smaller than others, and a few were reinforced. They all had walls covering three sides so that whatever was inside would only be able to see something standing directly in front of the cage. That seemed strange because there really wasn’t much to see in the room to begin with. The walls were gray and moldy, the ceiling had steel beams along the roof that were just beginning to rust. The floor was a smooth concrete stained with rust, blood, and feces. When Aribert arrived at the first cage he began giving the tour in earnest. Pride filled his voice,“This is a project based on some of my other work that you’ll see later. We are studying this subject’s ability to compensate the loss of their senses.”
“Loss of senses?” Clay questioned.
“We’re attempting to explain why a separate project is still capable of locating its food source even though it is almost certainly blind, deaf, mute, and also incapable of scenting prey. This subject is fairly early in the study, but it’s showing promise. We’ve started to build theories. Take a closer look.”
Clay leaned in, and saw the woman huddled in the corner. Her hair was a mass of knots. She had herself pressed into the corner like a scared animal.
“Miss?” Clay asked.
“She can’t hear you Mister Bertrand, but if you’ll tap the cage I’m almost certain that she’ll join us.” Aribert grinned.
Clay hesitated. “She’s deaf?”
“She’s useful. That’s all that matters.”
Clay tapped the steel bars. The woman’s head jerked. Suddenly she was aware of his presence. He tapped the cage a little more, and she edged herself around the inside. Slowly he watched as she made her way toward the front of her cage. Her fingernails were cracked, and two of them had fallen off showing infected nail beds.
“You may want to give her some medical attention. Those fingers are pretty bad.” Clay said calmly, but his sudden paleness gave away that he wasn’t altogether comfortable seeing anyone like this. He was a man that preferred his deaths clean and quick. A bullet to the back of the head seemed a much better way to die than succumbing to a slow infection.
“The subject’s general health is of no significance. I’m gathering valuable information from studying the project. Besides, if she does die then we have other uses for her. Nothing goes to waste here Mr. Bertrand.” Aribert said dismissively.
Clay ran his hand over his bald head. It was a nervous gesture he hadn’t done in twenty years. Back then he’d actually had thick brown hair. His hand slid across the smooth skin, and he tried very hard to keep his opinion about her condition to himself. His employers didn’t care what the doctor did with his test subjects, and so they’d expect the same from him.
The woman used the bars to guide herself to the front of the cage. The woman turned her head to look up, and her hair fell away from her face. That’s when Clay got his first good look at her. Both of her eyes were removed. Fleshy, pus-filled holes turned and moved like eyes searching the area.
“Oh my God!” Clay leapt back, tripped over his own feet and fell onto his back.
Aribert looked at him the way someone might look at a dog that just peed on a pair of their favorite shoes. “Mr. Bertrand! Please control yourself. This is a scientific research facility, and we can’t have you jumping around like a scared rabbit.” Aribert then walked to the nearest wall and pulled down a wooden poker.
Clay moved slowly off the floor, “I-I apologize. I didn’t expect to find…someone in such a…condition.”
Aribert rolled his eyes in disgust and then started explaining himself, “The subject here is being studied because we were having difficulty learning why other test subjects were still finding food long after their senses had failed them. If you’ll notice we removed the subject’s eyes. The tricky part was making sure that afterwards she didn’t bleed to death, but the surgeon McMichaels is deceptively talented. I would have loved to have seen his work when he was much younger. I like to think many of my patients in the camps would have survived, or at least lived much longer so that we could have better studied them. Aribert then moved the hair showing that both of her ears had been cut off leaving wounds that were so obviously infected that it seemed impossible the woman hadn’t already died. Some of the flesh only slightly hinted at the inflammation, but other parts were already oozing and dead. Clay fought to keep his stomach as he watched what could only be called an open wound that used to be an ear move as though something was alive under the remaining flesh. He was certain that it was just muscle spasms firing from the pain.
Clay was numb as the doctor pointed out the nose that was cut off brutally, a small piece of the car
tilage hung down limply. It was clear that while most of the nose had been cut away, the last little bit along the bridge had been ripped out. As disgusting as it was, Clay had problems looking at the nose while the eye sockets continued to jerk and pulse as though the girl was still searching for him. Aribert noticed the man’s fixation, and without even a hint of concern, he plunged the pointer into the diseased eye socket. He must have hit a nerve because the woman jerked back and fell to the ground mewling like a dying cat.
“Get up.” Aribert commanded, and then promptly banged on the cage door.
The girl stood up quickly and moved back to the front of the cage. Her left eye socket was still clogged with puss, but now her right eye socket was oozing down the side of her cheek like clumpy macaroni and cheese. It was then that Clay realized the movement he’d perceived was the maggots feasting just under the surface layer. He wanted to vomit, but somehow he managed to keep his stomach contents even after the reek of freshly exposed rot struck his nose. He had to fight even harder not to spew his insides once he realized that the eyes weren’t the only maggot infested part of the girl. Doctor Heim put the pointer against the side of the woman’s face, and as she turned her head Clay cringed. The movements and twitches under the skin where her ears had been cut off wasn’t because of nerves, or pain. It was the maggots enjoying their feast.
“After Dr. McMichaels cut out her tongue, we quickly realized we had to keep the nose and mouth clear so that she doesn’t expire before we’ve had ample opportunity to learn from her. She kept gagging on the infection, and of course all the hungry little wonders you see right here. It’s early, but we’ve determined that she is still able to navigate somewhat by sensation. She feels the cage rattle and knows where to go. We believe that this is how some of our other projects are able to locate food as their senses begin to fail them.” Doctor Heim spoke proudly. When Clay stared at him in guarded disgust Doctor Heim grumbled, “No one truly appreciates that sacrifices must be made in the name of science.”
The Doctor moved to the next cage, “Mr. Bertrand, I’m about to show you Project Tithonus. Stay away from the bars for your own safety. We wouldn’t want you to end up being another project specimen now would we? It would be…inconvenient for us to have to explain to your superiors. They were quite fussy about safety protocols when the last person they sent had to be…contained.”
Clay followed the doctor to the next cell. The moment he stepped into view, the man inside threw his body against the front of the cage screaming. His nose mashed against one of the bars until there was an audible pop, and it folded over. Dark green blood that almost looked black started oozing down the front of his face. Immediately the man started licking the blood off his upper lip.
“And if memory serves me…this was the young lady’s husband, or is he in the next cage? It’s so hard to remember such trivial details.” The doctor leaned a little closer, and then used his pointer to continue the lesson. “You see, because the subject is so new. He has full possession of his vision, hearing, and other senses. It’s just a shame you weren’t here a week ago. He still had some fairly good verbal skills, but unfortunately those skills are some of the first abilities to degrade. It requires muscle control to form words, and as fine motor skills worsen, so does their ability to communicate. He really can’t do more than grunt and howl at this point. Maybe if he really concentrated he could say a word, but I doubt it. Although I must admit that some of the other scientists and doctors seem to have found his begging…disquieting. So perhaps it’s for the best that he’s been reduced to one word responses, and of course the groaning and moaning you’re currently hearing.”
The man threw himself against the cage door again, and his lip split against the bar. Even more blood oozed from this new wound, and he greedily licked at it like a child trying to eat a rapidly melting ice cream. His body was only slightly decayed. His arms were stretched out towards Clay. What veins that could be seen looked black under the skin. His skin even had taken on a slight purplish tint. His mouth kept opening and slamming shut.
“What’s wrong with him?” Clay asked.
“Nothing…he’s practically perfect. We keep them all in a dry cool environment so that they will last as long as possible. He’s just hungry. He hasn’t been fed in almost a week, and they all tend to get aggressive when they miss a few meals. All my hard work has finally come to this glorious conclusion.” The Doctor’s chest swelled with pride.
“Doc, I don’t mean to be rude, but I think we might have different definitions of perfection.”
“Mr. Bertrand, what you see in front of you is the next great weapon.”
Clay shook his head, “How is this…thing…”Clay’s train of thought was suddenly derailed as the unfortunate man in the cell began gnawing at the flesh of his upper lip. At first it was just a few nips, but then he began taking one bite after another. He didn’t even scream in pain. He just took a bite, chewed, and then swallowed. Then he’d take another bite, chew, and swallow. When his top lip was just a few shreds of loose flesh, he started on his lower lip. All the time his hands reached out to grab…something. “Wh-wh-what is he? You say he’s a weapon? He looks like a lunatic.”
The doctor shook his head, “He’s perfection. We infected him, and within a half an hour saw psychological changes. In that time he became prone to aggression. At the same time his logic and reasoning skills changed. Soon after his heart stopped pumping a normal rhythm, and he began hunting.”
“Hunting? What was he hunting?”
“Their diet consists of blood, flesh, and brains. They seem to enjoy the taste of the first two, but it’s the brains that they pursue the most. It’s like candy to them. We released four of them in another lab with a subject that was not infected. They would surround the target specimen, work together, and then overwhelm him. We thought it was pack behavior, but then once the specimen was down they would fight one another to get to the brain. On several of the experiments we saw them kill another infected that was trying to get into the skull. Originally we thought they were working as a pack to bring the uninfected down. Then sharing in the spoils, but after several observations we realized this just a case of predators working in concert until they could capture their prey, but once the prey is down it goes back to an every predator for themselves mentality. They are hungry little brutes, and once the infection takes over they become almost single-minded in their pursuit of human flesh.”
“They? What do you mean they? There are more of these…things?”
The doctor nodded, “Of course, all of the other cages in this room, except the female, are part of Project Tithonus.”
Clay Bertrand’s jaw dropped as he turned slowly around the room. “Each one of these holds one of…those?”
“Yes Mr. Bertrand. Although they are at various stages of decomposition so it may be best if you just take my word on it. Considering your reaction to the condition of the female, I think it would be best.”
“Decomposition? What the hell is going on Doctor?”
“You are seeing decades of my work finally coming to fruition. In these cages is a new biological weapon. In the event of another war, all we have to do is release a few dozen of these creatures. They spread their infection through their saliva, and any other bodily fluid. Since they are single minded in their pursuit of food, the transmission rate would be extraordinary. If we release them in on a beach or in farmland inside a communist country such as Cuba they would attack the locals growing in numbers, and then instinct would drive them towards the larger populations. Their true destructive potential would be realized only after they reach the cities. Think of it, one creature makes another, and then they make two more, and so on. The people quickly become their own greatest threat. Paranoia would reign. How can a society function when its people can’t trust that their neighbor won’t try to eat them.”
“My God!”
“Bah! God…God is just the whimsical thought of children. Like Santa Claus, or the
Easter Bunny.” Dr. Heim snarled.
“But all those innocent civilians? This is wholesale slaughter.”
“Pfft, and Hiroshima was a strategic strike? Mr. Bertrand, innocent civilians are the fuel that powers the engines of war. They have children that become soldiers. They work in the factories that build the weapons and machinery. Civilians are the farmers that provide the food for the enemy soldier. Take a lesson from Germany. Armies are destroyed, but you can rebuild them in a generation as long as you have the manpower. The only way to keep a country from rebuilding is to destroy its people. These creatures are inexpensive. You can make more simply by injecting some subjects, or just pack a room full of people and unleash one of these creatures on them. Now that you’ve seen this, I hope you’ll indulge me as I show you my greatest achievement.”
Dr. Heim walked out of the room with the other man following closely. They moved to another lab, and inside was a large cage that filled most of the room. The bars were wrapped individually with razor wire. The ceiling of the cage was also covered in razor wire. Vents lined the room. Inside the large cage was a much smaller cage. Its bars were thicker than a man’s forearm. Inside Clay could just make out the silhouette of a man.
Dr. Heim chose his words carefully, “Walk on the floor panels that I walk on. The other panels are attached to explosives. I don’t believe I have to explain what will happen if you trigger the explosives.”
“What are the vents for?”
“Originally they would spray knockout gas to subdue the subject if he breached his cage. Now that we’ve incorporated him into Project Tithonus, we’ve had to upgrade and use a combination of cyanide, nerve gas, mustard gas, tear gas, and a few other chemicals to force his bodily functions to cease.” Aribert said calmly.
Uncle Gary's Campfire Stories: Bayou Zombie Werewolves Page 3
