“I’m sorry I had to put you on this task,” Julie said when he finally looked up.
“No big deal,” he said.
He injected the rats, one at a time with the barbiturate. The overdose would stop their hearts in no time, leaving them lifeless on the table. Julie helped out, filling a syringe and injecting almost half of them with him. She seemed to be waiting for him to talk but he kept working in silence.
“You’re just the fastest at it,” she finally said.
“I know,” he said.
“You want to tell me what’s bothering you?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Nothing’s bothering me. Just tired today, I guess.”
“I’ve seen you tired,” she pointed out. “I’ve seen you pissed. I’ve seen you argue with doctors. You know what I’ve never seen?”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve never seen you worried about something.”
He stopped working and gave her his full attention. “Why do you think I’m worried about anything?”
“You’re fidgety today. You never fidget.”
“I’m not fidgety.”
“You haven’t spoken to me until now. You just nodded when I gave you this task earlier. Even when you are preoccupied, you always talk to me.”
“I’m not fucking fidgety,” he said again.
“And you’ve never cursed at me. You’ve sworn at the doctors and other technicians but never to me.”
She was right. He always talked to Julie, no matter what was happening. They worked well together but also communicated better than the other technicians. He had never once raised his voice to her or swore at her.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “Just tell me what the hell is going on with you today.”
He sighed. “If you were suspicious that one of the doctors did something unethical, would you say anything?”
“It depends on what it was and what the outcome would be. It would mainly depend on whether or not I proof.”
“That’s what I was thinking, too,” he said in a low voice.
He cut the head off of the first rat, little blood flowing as the result of the barbiturate that had stopped its heart.
“You want to tell me about it?” she asked.
“No proof,” he answered.
“And the consequences?”
“Probably none.”
She smiled and touched his shoulder. “Then will you stop worrying about it?”
Joel nodded. “I’ll try. What are you doing after work?”
She gave him a sideways glance. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
He laughed. “No, I want to show you something.”
“That sounds creepy.”
“Be serious,” he said.
“Okay, fine,” she said. “What do you want to show me?”
“I’ll show you after work. Keep it between us, though. At least for now.”
“You can trust me.”
“I know I can.”
“Good. Now, let me help you with the mandibular morphometrics.”
“I won’t say no to that,” he said as they prepared the heads prior to the autoclaving.
He wasn’t sure he was making the right decision by tossing his suspicions into her brain but he needed to put to rest the thoughts that were gnawing at his mind. Julie was trustworthy. Perhaps she would have a counter theory that would empty his thoughts of what truly worried him.
* * * *
Deciding to call it a day early, Doctor Blake exited the main building at NeurAx and started toward his car. It had been a surprisingly quiet day, considering all that had taken place the day before with the testing. Everyone in the lab seemed less social. Those who hadn’t witnessed the incident with the rats had already heard some of the details, darkening the mood in the building for the entire morning and part of the afternoon. Chances were good that it would continue through the rest of the shift.
Blake feared some of the staff were losing hope in the project. They had seen seven set-backs now, more than they had expected with the team in place. Doctor Johnson was supposed to be one of the best chemists in the industry, a little reckless but one of the best all the same. Doctor Benson had been involved in some breakthrough research in the past on numerous occasions and was expected to lead the most advanced team in neurological research. They were good, but they just weren’t catching that big break they needed.
Doctor Williams fell in step beside him as he made his way across the parking lot. “Leaving early?”
Blake nodded. “Yeah. Not much going on today.”
“Same here,” Williams said. “It’ too quiet, like a tomb in there. I’ve never seen anyone take the failure this hard in the previous trials.”
“They’re getting impatient. You leaving, too?”
“Yeah, I don’t get a good vibe in there today. Four o’clock is late enough for me, today.”
“I didn’t see Doctor Johnson today,” Blake said.
“He took the day off,” Williams said.
“That’s unlike him. He never takes a day off. I almost thought this was his home.”
“He said something about taking his car to get it fixed. I guess he was here pretty late last night.”
“What happened to his car?”
“Nobody said.”
“Why would he be here so late? There was no testing going on.”
Williams shrugged. “Beats me. I gotta run. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As Williams walked away, Blake stopped and watched the large group of people while they slowly left the cemetery below. There must have been a graveside service today. In a small town like this, everyone knows everyone. That would explain the large crowd.
One man remained behind, going to the back of a pickup truck to retrieve a shovel. No doubt, this would be the man to fill in the hole. Blake couldn’t imagine having a job like that, burying the dead, even though they were enclosed in a casket and not visible during the act of covering them with soil.
“Poor bastard,” Blake muttered. “You’re in for a long evening.”
CHAPTER NINE
Joel glanced around as he led Julie into the trees near the site of Doctor Johnson’s crash the night before. He didn’t want security asking what they were doing but he was more concerned with Doctor Johnson deciding to show up to work at night and find them poking around. That would only cause him to wonder what Joel was up to.
Everything appeared pretty much the same as it did the night before. Pieces of glass still littered the ground beneath the tree. The bark was still scuffed. The tire marks still tore small trenches through the dirt. Even the rain was starting again.
“What are we doing out here?” Julie asked.
“I told you, I want to show you something.”
“A bashed-up tree?”
He shook his head. “No, not the tree. I shouldn’t have thrown it.”
“Thrown what?” she asked.
He waded into the ferns and brushed them aside. “You’ll see. Ah, here it is.”
He picked up the piece of flask and handed it to her. She took it and turned it over in her hand, looking oblivious to what he was trying to get her to see.
“I don’t understand,” she admitted.
“Read it,” he said impatiently.
“It’s a P,” she said.
“Yes.”
“A P in marker.”
He nodded, trying to get her to see what he suspected. He looked around at the pieces of glass until he found another piece he was seeking out.
“Here’s another,” he said.
She looked at it. “An E.”
“A P and an E,” he pointed out.
Her eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”
“You understand?”
‘You don’t think he had PEF in his trunk,” she gawked.
“Worse,” he said. “My fear is that it may have been the 07 generation.”
She shook her head. “No wa
y. We destroyed it all.”
“Did we?”
“You’re only saying that because you don’t like Doctor Johnson.”
“Have I ever done anything like that before?” he asked. “There have been a few doctors and technicians I couldn’t stand but I’ve never pointed a finger at them.”
“No,” she agreed. “No, you haven’t.”
“Piece it together. He has an accident. His trunk slams this tree and now there are pieces of flask scattered around with marker that probably spells out PEF with a generation number after it.”
“I really hope you’re wrong,” Julie said.
“So do I.”
“We have to tell someone.”
He shook his head. “If we do, it will start a shitstorm at NeurAx. At the end of it, the only ones to lose their jobs will be you and me.”
“So what do we do?”
We watch,” he said. “We wait and see what happens and pray that we see nothing.”
She nodded in agreement but he could see the hesitation in her eyes. He could only hope he was giving the right advice.
* * * *
Bill Thurmon and his crew had lowered Abigail Jones’s coffin into the hole, beginning to cover it with dirt before the rain started again, bringing them to a halt. They waited a while but decided there was no way they were going to finish tonight. They would have to return tomorrow and finish, providing the rain eased up enough.
Bill sent the others home, choosing to finish packing up equipment alone. He enjoyed these warm nights and was in no hurry to get home, even if he got wet. It wasn’t the first time he’d sent the others home early, giving him a chance to pay his final respects in peace. Most nights were pleasant, the quiet filling the cemetery and allowing him to reflect on the years he had known each person. Tonight was not one of those nights.
Bill had known Abigail for years. She was a sweet old woman and had always taken the time to speak to Bill and his wife, Verna, every Sunday after the service. He stood looking at her stone, realizing how much he was going to miss those conversations.
He took out his cigarettes, put one to his lips and lit it. Taking a deep drag, he stuffed the rest of the pack into his pocket, along with his lighter. He exhaled the smoke as he glanced around the cemetery, leaning against one of the taller headstones. The rain soaked his graying hair. He closed his eyes, taking another drag. If only he had remembered his hat. The raincoat was always in his truck because of the rain most nights but he had forgotten that and now cursed himself for the mistake. The rain picked up, pelting his head even more.
Bill could see the lights of NeurAx through the trees. It was a slight distance up the hill but the lights at the facility were bright at night. He always wondered what they did up there, but at this time of night, there was never any activity outside the building. He figured it was none of his business and pushed the curiosity from his mind. Some things were better left unknown.
He took another drag and started loading stuff into the back of his truck. He was starting to get hungry and decided not to hang around out here for long. It was too late to cook, but maybe he would microwave a frozen dinner and watch some television while he ate. His wife, Verna was probably already in bed anyway, and he didn’t want to wake her up by banging pots and pans around. She knew how he liked to stay in the cemetery for a while after he finished and never bothered to make dinner. It would only get cold, anyway.
Thunder began to rumble above him, followed each time by a flash of lightning. The storm was getting worse and he was more determined to get the truck loaded and started. He was thankful the rain had held off until after the graveside service but it would have been better to wait another few hours before moving in and soaking the area.
Suddenly he stopped to listen. He was sure he had heard a noise. Whatever it was, it was drowned out by the thumping of his pulse in his ears. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. He never got spooked when filling in the graves but he’s never had strange noises around him, either.
“Who’s out there?” he called into the darkness, receiving no response. “Damn kids, always playing in the cemetery at night. No respect for the dead.”
He stood and listened a little longer, but there was no answer and the air was once again quiet, apart from the rain pounding the soil and the occasional thunder. He turned back to his truck, arranging the gear he had just put in the bed. Then the noise came again. It was a rustling sound behind him this time. He turned, prepared to yell at any kids he saw playing up here at this time of night. That was when he noticed that the ground over some of the graves had been torn up. It looked as if someone had been digging holes over some of the deceased, working their way down through the soil to the bodies beneath. It appeared to be only newer plots which were torn up, making it even more odd. He walked toward them to get a closer look, cursing the troublemakers who would do something like this.
“Bastards!” He yelled into the air. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”
He looked down into the hole over the first grave. Jeremy Collins had been buried here only about a week and a half ago. He had died after being shot by his wife Marie. She’d caught him cheating and waited up for him, at which time she blew a hole in his chest with his own rifle. It was a sad story, even if it seemed somewhat deserving of the final outcome.
The hole in the ground was deep and he couldn’t see to the bottom in the dark of night, so he decided he would head home for now and come back tomorrow with the sheriff to investigate. He was getting far too wet to spend any more time out here, looking into the graves.
Another noise stopped him. It came from directly behind him. He had to be mistaken because it sounded as though it was coming from the fresh hole where Abigail now rested. The hole would be filled with enough brown water by this time to nearly cover the casket, filling it with rain mixed with the soil.
“Fuck this,” he said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”
As he approached his truck he saw a dark figure move out from behind the vehicle, slowly shuffling toward him. Judging by the way he was moving, Bill was certain the man was drunk.
“Who’s there?” He asked, squinting into the dark.
There was no answer. They just kept shuffling slowly toward him. Suddenly he got a look at the face. Though it was still smeared with dirt, he could see it was Jeremy Collins. That seemed absolutely impossible since he remembered burying this man himself. Still, there he was, shuffling along as though he’d never been shot dead. The suit he had been buried in was as dirt-smeared as his face. His hands were torn as though he has just dug his way out of the ground.
At that moment Bill realized that the holes were not dug down through the earth to get to the bodies. The holes were dug up from the bottom to get to the surface! He knew it sounded unlikely, impossible even. Yet he couldn’t deny it. He knew he had to get to the sheriff fast before Jeremy got to town and scared the hell out of everyone who saw him.
He turned to run down the hill to the gate when he stopped, looking right into the face of Abigail Jones, also covered with mud and dirt. Frozen with shock, he couldn’t move, even when Jeremy grabbed him from behind. Abigail leaned forward, biting him on the shoulder. He heard his flesh tearing as both of the people he’d recently placed into the ground, one buried and one partly buried continued to bite him, ripping off chunks of his flesh with their teeth. He screamed and tried to get free, but they were strong, even though they shouldn’t even be able to move at all. Blood ran down the front of him, staining his shirt crimson.
Abigail’s teeth moved to the front of his neck, clamping down hard on his throat. He tried to gasp but no air could get through with her teeth cutting off his airway. He felt her teeth sink deeper by the second until he finally tore free, blood spurting out onto his chin and down the front of him. His vision faded, his whole world becoming dark. He tried to breathe but not air would enter his lungs.
Within seconds, B
ill Thurmon was dead. Three minutes later, his lifeless body began twitching, splattering the last of his blood onto the wet grass. He slowly got his knees, tattered flesh hanging off of his arms, shoulders and neck. Finally, he stood up and walked slowly past his truck, headed directly toward town.
* * * *
Joel turned toward the cemetery, the hair on his arms standing upright. His breath caught in his chest. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears.
“What was that?” Julie gasped.
“Someone screaming,” he answered.
“Where did it come from?”
“I think it came from the cemetery. We should go check to make sure no one’s hurt.”
Julie shook her head, her eyes wide. “Oh, hell no.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?”
She looked around nervously before answering. “Honestly, I want to get the fuck out of here.”
“Someone could need our help.”
She grabbed his shoulders and looked at him, her eyes wide with fear. “Look, your little theory has already fucked me up for the rest of the night. If you think I’m going to check on someone screaming in terror, you are seriously out of your mind.”
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll check it out and come right back.”
“You’re not leaving me alone out here. If you want to check it out, walk me back up the hill to the parking lot first.”
Joel sighed and nodded his head. “Let’s go. It’ll be too late once I get back if someone is in trouble. I’ll get you to your car and we’ll both get the hell out of here.”
“That’s a better idea,” she said, her voice still shaking. “If there’s something happening, we will find out tomorrow and neither of us will be getting ourselves into trouble.”
“You’re right,” he agreed.
“Of course, I’m right.”
Joel followed her up the hill but couldn’t get the scream out of his mind. The complete silence following it was just as disturbing to him, perhaps even more unnerving. He took one last look around below them before trying to force it from his mind as he and Julie trudged toward the parking lot.
Threshold Series (Book 1): Threshold Page 5
