Standing, I straightened my suit. This one was pure black but had pants instead of a skirt. I knew I was the only researcher who wore business suits, but I needed to do something to appear older and more professional. My lack of crow’s feet definitely didn’t help.
We walked into the hall. “Hungry?” Amy asked.
“Starving.”
“Let’s grab the rail system to the cafeteria. You can tell me about Davin on the way.”
This wasn’t the first time Amy had quizzed me. She’d been doing it all week. Each time, she seemed amazed that I remembered everything she told me or that I’d read.
She only explained complex theories or research projects to me once, and watched to see if I’d remember and comprehend. I did. And she didn’t explain the MRI’s policies and procedures. Instead, she handed me the gigantic manual and told me to read it. I did, in two nights.
Again, an eidetic memory helped with that kind of stuff. I could recall a page of information if I closed my eyes and concentrated. It was the only way I had excelled in school so quickly. Luckily, it helped with orientation too.
“Right,” she said as we rounded our first corner. “Fire away.”
Amy also seemed to love my monologues, but I was used to it by now, so jumped in. “Strain 11 is completely internal, which is why Davin appears normal. It only targets skeletal muscle not cardiac or smooth muscle. In other words, his digestive tract works similarly to how it did before his Change, and his heart function hasn’t changed much other than its ability to pump blood faster than most since Davin’s muscles require higher amounts of oxygen.”
“What about the physiology? How are his muscles different?”
“Strain 11 has given him superior tendon and ligament strength. Joint problems will probably never plague him, but the most interesting aspect I’ve read is how exceptional his muscle activity is. The virus changed Davin’s neural pathways, creating more efficient synapses between his muscles and brain, which allows him to be a hundred times faster than uninfected humans. As for his strength, the majority comes from his ability to re-synthesize ATP at a superior level, allowing actin and myosin to maintain a strong binding state. This allows Davin to keep his muscles contracted for much longer than a normal human, and his body’s ability to create little to no lactic acid is why he rarely grows tired. Amazingly, his muscles aren’t damaged despite the excessive demands.”
“Excellent!” Amy grinned.
We pushed open the door to the stairwell and jogged down. Our voices echoed in the concrete structure. “How are you feeling about everything so far? Are there any strains you feel the need to study further?”
I thought for a moment before replying. “No, I don’t think so.”
Amy cocked an eyebrow. “What does strain 7 do?”
“Allows a Kazzie’s lungs to extract oxygen from water, essentially letting them breathe underwater.”
“And strain 29?”
“Elongated arms and cupped hands, similar to an orangutan. A Kazzie with that strain can climb nearly any tree and swing from object to object.”
“Strain 41?”
“They can see and produce different wavelengths. Radio waves and x-rays in addition to the color spectrum. Researchers working with them must wear lead to protect themselves in case their Kazzies choose to switch their vision.”
“And strain 15?”
“Thin skin grows between their arms and latissimus dorsi muscles. When they extend their arms, it looks like they have bat wings. That, along with their bones turning hollow, allows them to fly. They essentially look half-man and half-bat, but like all Kazzies, their intellectual capacities and personalities haven’t changed.”
Amy raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. Perhaps you are ready to move on.” She turned a corner in the stairwell. “Since you have the strain basics down, we can move into the genetics stuff next week.”
“Really?” I grinned.
“I thought you’d be excited about that.”
I almost jumped in anticipation but contained myself. “Very.”
“Good. Now, each MSRG group may study their Kazzie specifically, but every researcher in the MRI has one common goal: to figure out a way to keep the Kazzies’ DNA stable enough to study at room temp. Until we can do that, we can’t identify the genomes for each Makanza strain. Without that, a vaccine is unlikely and a cure, impossible.”
“So how do we do that?” I pushed the door open and exited the stairwell onto the rail system’s platform.
Amy frowned as a loud whir and rush of air surrounded us when the train pulled up. “We’re hoping you can help us figure that out. So far, nobody’s been able to.”
AS MY SECOND week at the Compound began, I continued to slowly learn what my new job entailed. Most of our group’s time was spent thinking, brainstorming, and formulating new ways to study Makanza. It was very different from everything I’d learned in grad school.
Normally, when studying DNA, we’d shred it up before putting it in a sequencer, and then we’d analyze it, looking for variations and mutations. With Makanza, that didn’t work since it was so unstable outside of the body. We couldn’t even do step one. It disintegrated before it was shred. That made it impossible to study with traditional DNA techniques. Essentially, we needed to create a completely new way to study DNA. It explained why researchers had been working on this project for years.
I bent over an old, decontaminated sample from Davin and peered into my microscope. His muscle fibers were truly fascinating.
Apple scented shampoo flooded my senses. I knew who it was before looking up.
“Did you see the memo Dr. Roberts just sent out?” Amy sidled up beside me at the lab bench.
“No, what’d it say?”
“Our lab’s opening tomorrow, which means we’ll be working with Davin again.”
It felt like the wind got knocked out of me. “Our lab’s opening… tomorrow?”
“Yep, no more hiking all the way down here.”
Since it was Wednesday, it had been nine days since I’d seen Davin. Nine days. And tomorrow I’d potentially see him again, if Dr. Roberts decided we needed new samples.
It was only on my drive home, that it really sank in. I could see Davin tomorrow, except this time, I’d be working with him. Correction, I’d be working on him. And now, I’d truly be one of them. The MRI researchers that treated him like a lab rat. My shoulders tensed while the sun blazed through the windshield. It looked like a ball of fire.
7 – BACK TO THE SANCTUM
I went through my morning routine the next day exactly as I always did. I got up at six. I showered. Made coffee. Watched a bit of the morning show on America News Network. Tried to make breakfast, burned it, and ended up plugging my nose and forcing it down.
The drive to the Compound and the security process didn’t take long. I was used to it now. After parking, I stepped out of my car and straightened my suit, pressing out the wrinkles. I hadn’t worn it since my first day.
My footsteps paused mid-stride as I groaned. I’d worn the same thing when I saw Davin the first time. What if he remembers? As soon as I thought that, I rolled my eyes. Like Davin would remember what you wore. Seriously, Meg, the guy has bigger things to worry about.
Cool morning air flowed around me when I resumed walking across the parking lot. It smelled like rain. Private Williams, the admittance guard, waved good day to me after opening the exterior door. I awkwardly nodded in return.
Carol, our wing’s receptionist, greeted me warmly at which sweat popped up on my brow. I knew sooner or later I’d get comfortable with them and my anxiety would diminish, but they were still too new for that to happen anytime soon.
The first thing I did was stop at my office and drop off my bag. The lab below my window was dark, which meant neither Amy, Charlie, or Mitch were in yet. Pulling out my laptop, I sat at my desk and turned it on.
The screen lit up. I stared briefly at the wallpaper photo before pulling up
my email. The photo was of Jer and me when we were kids. It was at a local, public swimming pool, about a year before Makanza hit. We were both draped over the side of the pool’s concrete edge, our elbows nestled on the rim while our lower bodies floated in the water. Wet hair was plastered to our heads. Grins covered our faces. I’d been twelve, and Jer had been nine. Even at those awkward ages, we’d been inseparable.
My email popped up. Two new messages. One was the daily Compound email that circulated each morning. It told of any events or breakthroughs reported at the Compounds nationwide.
Compound 70 in Vermont had lost a Kazzie. It didn’t go into details. Instead, it stated she passed away from natural causes. I didn’t want to doubt that, but I did. Perhaps she’d been too unruly, like Davin, and during their attempts to subdue her, she’d died.
I stomped down that crazy thought. Surely nothing like that happened. I deleted the email before moving to the next. The second was from Dr. Roberts.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected]
Cc:
Subject: meeting
We’ll meet in the lab at 9:00 am before going to the Sanctum. Don’t be late.
My breath stopped. So I would see Davin today.
I checked the clock. I still had an hour before I needed to be in the lab, but I stood anyway. If I didn’t want to pace around my office, nervously wringing my hands while waiting for nine o’clock to roll around, I needed to work.
I WAS STANDING at my bench when a hand clamped onto my shoulder. I jumped and shrieked.
A chuckle escaped the culprit. “Forester, how’s it going?” Mitch grinned.
The force of his greeting had made my knees buckle. I tried to straighten. He cringed and removed his hand. “Sorry, forgot you were so little.”
I shook myself, but my heart still pounded from the surprise. “Um, I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’m good, you know, can’t complain. Just livin’ the dream.” He moved his hand to his hip, causing his lab coat to drape open. His shirt today read, There Are Three Kinds of People in this World, Those Who are Good at Math and Those Who Aren’t.
I smiled. It was hard to keep a straight face when I read Mitch’s shirts. Last week he wore one that read, A Walrus is Like a Vampire, but Awesome. I had no idea where Mitch bought his attire, but wherever it was, it wasn’t Empire Mall.
He peered over my shoulder. “What are you working on?”
I scooped my notes up. I’d been jotting down ideas about the Kazzie’s DNA but wasn’t ready to share them yet. “Not much.”
He smirked. “I doubt that.”
“Morning, Meghan and Mitch!”
Amy sauntered down the stairs into the lab. She waved at us as Charlie and Dr. Roberts followed behind her.
“Excuse me.” I inched around Mitch.
Even though our group was small, my nerves still thrummed when we were all together. At times, it felt like the walls were closing in.
I breathed a little easier when a few feet separated me from Mitch’s imposing hulk. Smiling tentatively, I approached Amy.
Her red curls were their usual unruly mess, but her green eyes were especially bright. “You ready for today?” Her eyes twinkled.
“I think so.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll see what it’s normally like. What you saw that first day is not how we usually do things.”
Dr. Roberts, Charlie, and Mitch joined us. I took another step back, feeling my pulse leap.
“Let’s go.” Our boss turned briskly. In his usual fashion, there was no greeting.
The four of us followed him out of the lab. I barely noticed the blinding walls in the hallway and multiple security checks. I kept my folder stuffed under my arm, away from Mitch’s prying eyes and thought about Davin to keep my mind off of how many bodies brushed next to me. I hadn’t seen Davin in ten days. Hopefully, he hadn’t been drugged and kept in the Experimental Room that entire time.
Just the thought of that made me shudder.
When we reached the Inner Sanctum, we filed into the first windowed hallway one by one. I peered tentatively into Garrett’s cell, not sure what I’d see.
Garrett sat quietly. He wasn’t drawing or painting. Instead, he sat as still as a statue on a small, wooden chair. His back was to us as he looked at something on the wall. I followed his gaze. There was nothing there except gray concrete.
“What’s he looking at?” I whispered to Amy.
She shrugged. “No idea.”
Garrett’s head shifted, seeming to sense that we were there. He didn’t acknowledge us. Just like my first day, he pretended we weren’t there.
I inched closer to Amy and kept my voice quiet. “Does he always ignore us?”
“Usually.”
“Why?”
Amy cocked her head. “Hmm, how do I put this… Most of the Kazzies, to be completely honest, don’t seem to like us. Davin even hates us, but I think he’s the only one who feels that strongly, so it’s not unusual for them to ignore us when we walk by.”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t they like us?”
“Because of what we do to them. We experiment on them, Meghan.”
“Oh.” I felt stupid. Of course, they didn’t like us. I would probably feel the same if I were in their shoes.
We continued past Garrett’s cell, all of us quiet, the only sounds were Dr. Roberts’ loud stomps and the quiet tap-tap of the rest of our shoes.
The Sisters were both awake, sitting on one bed, much like they had been the first time. One of them stood when we came into view. Her blue skin stole my attention as a smile grew on her face. I knew it was Sara without looking at her wrist.
Sara approached the window, her eyes glued to mine the entire way. I swallowed as she got closer. She reached the window and held up one fine, blue hand. Just like she had the first day. Her fingers skimmed along the glass surface as we walked side by side. I didn’t know why she was looking at me, but I smiled tentatively.
Her face bloomed in response.
“Forester!” Dr. Roberts barked.
I snapped my gaze away from her.
Dr. Roberts stood at the end of the hall, watching me. I felt guilty, like I’d been caught doing something wrong. I glanced back at Sara. Her eyes pleaded with me.
I knew Dr. Roberts was observing everything that went on between me and the twin.
“Forester, what the hell’s going on?” Mitch stopped at my side, his head dipping lower.
“What do you mean?”
He nodded toward Sara. “That. The Sisters always ignore everybody.”
“That’s what Amy said.”
“Exactly, so what’s with you two acting like besties?”
“I dunno,” I mumbled, and I didn’t.
I felt Sara’s eyes follow me as we sailed through the access point to the next cell. I rubbed my neck. A dull ache had started at the base of my skull. Great, just what I need.
Dorothy was still on her bed, not moving, when we walked by her cell. Ten days had passed since I’d seen her, yet she lay exactly as she had last week.
I moved closer to Amy. “Are they still starving her?”
“Yeah.”
We continued to move deeper into the Sanctum. Sage was in his cell this time. His cell was similar to the others. Simple, sparsely furnished, only the barest necessities, so different for the entertainment facilities they were able to use before Davin’s troubles.
Sage sat on his bed. His back was propped against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him while his hands were entwined behind his head. The TV was on. He was watching an old rerun of The Price is Right.
The Canadian was a big man, probably the same size as Mitch. He stared at the screen, although I could swear he wasn’t watching it. He didn’t move, and he didn’t look at us, but I got the feeling he was aware of us. I’d be willing to bet he could recite in what order we p
assed, or recall what each of us had been wearing. It was odd. There was no way I could prove that, but I got the feeling he didn’t miss much.
The longer we walked by him, the more I wanted to stop and stare. I knew he had strain 27, which meant he could generate electricity. His skin was made of metal and myelin. The mixture was highly conductive. I tried to sneak subtle peeks, but his skin wasn’t overtly different from this distance. From the pictures I’d seen in my readings, photos taken at close range showed Sage’s skin looked almost reptilian. Maybe someday I’d get a better look.
“Have you seen Sage yet?” Mitch’s deep voice rumbled close to my ear.
“No, not yet.”
“He’s my favorite. I wish we worked with him. The guy can power a light bulb with a finger.”
“Which group has him?”
“The lab two doors west from us.”
I peered closer as we walked, and Sage’s face tightened. I took the hint that he didn’t like being studied and hurried to follow the others.
Dr. Roberts, Amy, and Charlie were waiting for us in the next hall. They had stopped outside Victor’s cell. My eyes widened once again. Victor sat at his desk, reading a book, his shoulders hunched over it. He wore jeans and a simple blue t-shirt. I couldn’t see his face, but his hair was brown. Quite similar to my own hair color.
Since he’d also been in the Experimental Room my first day, this was the first time I’d seen him in person. Photos had prepared me for what he looked like, but his skin was so bright, the pictures hadn’t done it justice. He was beautiful in a way, like a bright poinsettia, demanding attention. However, like the other Kazzies, he ignored us as we lined up in the hallway.
“Do you know what he’s reading?” I asked Mitch.
“Gone with the Wind. He checked it out last week.”
“Gone with the Wind?”
“He loves the classics. Prior to that, it was Paradise Lost. He’s always checking something out from the library.”
“I thought they were still in isolation?”
Compound 26: Book #1 in The Makanza Series Page 6
