January 25, 2019
“Watch what you’re doing, that vial is priceless,” Dr. James Smith cursed at the intern.
James watched as the young man cradled the item in his hand and crossed the room to place it on the counter next to Dr. Marsha Watkins. For years, they’d been muddling their way through funding nightmares to develop a cure for Alzheimers. Then out of the blue, a man in a nice suit, but lacking in personality, made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.
Now they were in a top-notch facility with technology they didn’t even know existed at their fingertips. So desperate to make a name for themselves, all in the name of helping their fellow man, they’d both checked their morals at the door when it came to human experimentation. As long as some progress was being made, the test subjects didn’t seem to mind the side effects. At first, they were minor.
When the head of the company brought them the unknown element and asked them to see if it might aid in their research, they played along. Expecting it not to work, or be of any benefit, they were shocked when after only two small doses people improved significantly.
Now James and Marsha were taking their work in a whole new direction. The brain activity was like nothing they’d ever seen before – at first.
Then something happened. He chalked it up to whiny patients and the typical “adverse reactions” people complain about when on a new medication. As the list grew, rashes, memory loss, decreased appetite, muscle aches, vision problems, and mood swings, James stopped the treatments.
The subjects got better after a couple of days, but there was something useful in the mysterious element he’d been given. He created a large dose, thinking a series of small doses were the problem, and he pocketed the syringe. He punched in the code for Level 15 and entered one of the special rooms, where what he was about to do, wouldn’t be seen or heard by others.
On the table, a man in his seventies rambled about spiders in the corner, their worst patient symptom-wise. James checked his straps to make sure he was secure, pulled out a cotton swab and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He cleaned a small area on the man’s forearm, and then injected the amped up serum.
A moment later, James jumped back as the old man’s body arced off the table. He babbled rapidly as his eyes rolled around, then lay flat – dead. With a sigh, James hit the button and watched as a small door opened on the side and the table slipped inside. It shut with a clang, and as he walked out, James felt the warmth of the incinerator as it destroyed the evidence of his experiment.
He refused to give up. Marsha tried to warn him away from it, but she didn’t see the potential the way he did. In secret, he wrote out formulas and other possible uses, as well as other methods of delivery. He wondered if there was a way to make it into a gas. It would be less taxing on the system, and therefore, more likely not to throw people into shock. He’d watched eleven people die so far, but new subjects were more than willing to sign up for treatment. Then you had people who couldn’t wait to unload family members who were more trouble than they were worth.
On the counter next to his co-worker, sat the only inhalable version of the serum. They were scheduled to test it in less than a week and his anticipation grew every day they prepared. He knew it would work. This time, he would find the cure.
Lyle Willis set the bricks of Semtex in strategic locations, forty in total. Some of them were on the current level, others in the ventilation system and elevator shafts. His boss was particular about how he wanted things done, and since Lyle was making a lot of money to do an easy job, he didn’t ask questions.
When he’d first been contacted about the job, he thought it was a joke. How do you demolish a retro fitted silo? Add in the security measures that Sunset Inc. put into place and he shook his head. A suicide mission.
The person was persistent. Contacting him via e-mail with vital information and a sum of money no one would say no to. After much thought, and a pass guaranteed to get him inside, as well as half the cash sitting in his account, Lyle relented.
As he drove up the road to the address given, he noted the discreetly hidden security cameras. When he reached the edge of the driveway, two security guards greeted him.
“Who are you?”
“Keller, Jack Keller,” Lyle said as he handed over the ID card.
The taller of the two guards looked him over. “Open the trunk.”
Lyle pulled the release and watched with a critical eye as the shorter guard flipped through the tools and wires.
“Says here you’re an electrician, you should be in the database, so stay here.”
Lyle focused on his breathing as the guard typed something into the tablet at his post. He glanced at the ID, and then back to the screen. He stared at Lyle for a full minute before he stood and returned.
“Alright, you’re clear. Drive down for about a mile and enter through the garage.”
Lyle accepted the card and smiled as he drove off. Whoever hired him had some serious connections inside this place. When the house came into view, he slowed the car and parked next to the entrance. He popped the trunk, moved several items to the side, and pulled out two toolboxes and a utility belt.
He made sure to park out of the range of any cameras or prying eyes, so he could slash open the spare tire, pull out the explosives, and put them in the hidden compartments, he’d prepared on the boxes. Within seconds, he was ready to move on to phase two.
From then on, everything went according to plan, just like the person who hired him said it would. As he took the elevator up, he got into his car as soon as possible. When he was two miles away, his cell phone rang.
He reached over and saw a new text message “BOOM.” He wrinkled his face as he tried to see who sent it. Naively, he thought it was his employer letting him know he’d triggered the explosion. A second later, realization dawned on him when the car stalled.