EXODUS

— by Jeff Karamales

Chapter 7
True Monsters
 

It wasn’t until a number of day cycles later that all of the prisoners for Group 1 realized that something actually was happening to them. As per standard routine, the morning meal wouldn’t be delivered until after the group’s morning exercises and showers. A testament to the facility having started off as something else entirely, the bathroom and showers were part of a large dual-chambered section with no form of dividers or curtains to provide even a modicum of privacy. Perhaps it was the overall situation or possibly something else, but Gino Torrelli cleaned up without his usual snide innuendo directed at the females that shared the room. Nor did he attempt his usual attempt to feel up Julie or one of the other women.

Each of the people that milled under the hot water seemed morose, almost depressed, Wyatt included. When Tonya Dolens began screaming in terror it was enough to startle Perry so bad that he slipped on the water and soap slicked tiles, his efforts at hiding his nakedness for naught as he landed unceremoniously on the antiquated shower floor. When the others spun about to look at her they saw the woman standing under the spray holding sodden hanks of her own dusty blond hair with a horrified expression even as the cascading water pulled more of her tresses free.

As if that had been the cue, the others in the shower began to notice that their own hair was also falling out. By the time the ten individuals were hustled from the showers and into clean clothing each one was as hairless as could be, even the fine hairs that covered arms and legs falling out. It was one of the most disturbing things that Wyatt had ever seen and kept looking at the others as he absently rubbed his tingling scalp or touched other areas that had never been hairless such as his eyebrows. Even his eyelashes were gone. Scanning the chamber and regarding the others he was reminded of the different breeds of hairless pets that some people paid exorbitant amounts of money for, the creatures looking familiar and totally alien at the same time. It was a little too much for the man to cope with, though the one most distressed by suddenly smooth skin was Perry, particularly after relating his fear of chemotherapy, and swore that because his hair had fallen out that he must have developed cancer, his greatest possible fear.

After breakfast one of the myriad technicians entered the chamber and told all of them that it was an expected side effect of the transformations they were going through and that other physical alterations would begin manifesting shortly. The tech then departed, ignoring the questions the prisoners presented, not even batting an eye at the swearing that was directed at her as she calmly left the chamber, though the guards took offense to Gino’s throwing a pitcher of water after the woman.

Time again crawled by and the members of Group 1 discovered that other changes were indeed appearing an almost a daily basis. The first was a return of fine body hair, though instead of the normal areas that adults had, the fine fuzz was emerging from every square inch save the bottoms of feet and palms. It wasn’t until the light fuzz began to thicken and darken that other alterations to the different prisoners’ physiologies started to crop up. Eye colors changed, ears began to distort. At one point Wyatt asked to see either Lesko or a medic when the end of his nose turned an odd shade of dark pink and the texture changed. He was told, once again, that it was an expected change and that he should return to the chamber he’d been assigned to.

That was the standard answer that any of them received in regards to inquiries about what they were going through. Whatever medic was assigned to their Group for the day would look at the one complaining and tell them that ‘it’s an expected change,’ before dismissing them back to the confines of the chamber.

It was during this time that the number of prisoners in Group 1 began to diminish. The first death was Gino Torrelli, the man unable to cope with what was being done to him and committed suicide before it was possible for the guards to get to him by drowning himself in the toilet of his cell. As Wyatt, Julie and the rest of the Group watched, the mobster from New Jersey was pronounced dead after medics attempted to resuscitate him, though Wyatt was of the mind that they could have worked a touch harder and not given up after five minutes of CPR.

As the body was taken from the chamber, Wyatt felt that perhaps he could have stopped the suicide by asking the man about the depressed funk he’d been suffering from over the past week, though in retrospect, the man thought that maybe what had happened had been for the better. Like the rest, Gino had been on death row. His death was simply a conclusion of the inevitable as far as Wyatt was concerned. He had no delusions that all of them would die after suffering more, and Gino had simply shown the fortitude to do what the others were afraid to do.

There were repercussions from the man’s successful suicide attempt, however, that made life a little more unpleasant for the rest of the Group. To prevent anymore of her test subjects from removing themselves from the project, Lesko had the water to the chamber shut off save for specific times during the day cycle. That measure had the effect of dampening spirits even further while making the already trying conditions of the prisoners’ captivity that much more uncomfortable. Fortunately the pervading chill of the chamber kept conditions from deteriorating as for as they might have had the air been warmer or a little more humid.

After what Wyatt and Julie figured, by their reckoning, was a month since their injections, they lost another of the number. The changes being wrought to their bodies was undeniable and features that had once been human were slowly turning more cat-like. Each sported burgeoning fur coats while their facial structures looked more feline with each passing day cycle. It was during this period that each began to experience the aches and swollen joints that they’d been informed was the precursor to the shifting of their skeletal structures. The Group was also warned that they were entering a period when their internal organs would be starting their change.

This information was further verified when Carla Weems sat up in her bunk during the night cycle, grunting in pain as she clutched at her chest, a look of discomfort on her face that rapidly gave way to a rictus of agony. The scream that ripped from her throat was a chilling blend of her human voice with a definite feline yowl that caused the fur that had grown along Wyatt’s spine to stand on end. He was on his feet and at the clear partition that separated his cell from the main part of the chamber before he knew it, his partially transformed fingers gripping the edge of one of the perforations so tightly that had the skin of his knuckles been visible they would have been a mottled white.

Carla dragged nails that had started to thicken into curved claws on the inner surface of the glassteel plate that secured her own cell, a terrified look in her now yellow eyes that mixed human and feline traits, her expression one of terror and pleading as she looked at Wyatt, her other hand pressed hard against her chest. He watched as the woman gasped for breath, her wide open mouth gulping air as a streamer of saliva dripped from slackened lips. She tried to scream again, though the only sound that came from the woman was a strangled whine that turned into a choked gurgle. Before Wyatt could call out to her, his own eyes wide with fright as his vocal chords seized up so that he was hard pressed to draw a breath, a veritable fountain of crimson erupted from Carla’s open mouth, the blood that sprayed out looking black in the subdued lighting of the chamber.

The entire episode took less than half a minute, but to Wyatt it seemed as if hours crawled by as he watched the woman’s gruesome death. He heard Julie’s screamed questions about what was happening but couldn’t answer her or the others that couldn’t see into Carla’s cell. Likewise, the inquiries were ignored by the medics and guards that eventually came into the chamber led by Emily Lesko.

The older woman knelt down beside the body once the partition had been opened and began a clinical appraisal of what had transpired, eventually slipping her fingers into Carla’s open mouth and rooting around and fishing out a plastic ring about an inch across, completely unmindful of the dead woman’s bodily fluids on her skin. As she held it up to look at the item, the lights of the chamber having been turned on, Lesko tilted her head in curiosity.

“I wondered what would happen with this during the internal reconfiguration,” Lesko said loud enough for the rest of the prisoners to hear. “Make a note,” she said to the medic standing next to her. “The process is incompatible with subjects that have even the most basic of medical implants. We won’t know more until we open her up, but it looks like this simply shredded everything on its way out.”

The medic dutifully noted the observation on her computer tablet, more interested than repulsed before leaning over to have a closer look. “Isn’t that a lap band for stomach shrinking? I didn’t think that something that small could pose a hazard to the internal restructuring.”

“It was a possibility,” Lesko said as she stood and waited for orderlies to load the body onto a gurney then deposited the plastic ring on the dead woman’s chest before wiping her fingers off on Carla’s jumper. “With the drastic reconfigurations a simple artificial apparatus can be extremely detrimental as it’s rejected by the subject’s body as superfluous.” She looked at the remaining prisoners and nodded. “It’s fortunate that none of the others have anything like implants. Go ahead and transfer candidates from Group 2 to this one to make up for the losses. I want the control group to be at full capacity as they enter the second phase.”

The medic nodded and lifted her computer tablet again as she followed the gurney out of the chamber, Lesko pausing only long enough to light a cigarette before looking at the men and women that regarded her with fear and hatred.

“Tomorrow’s going to see an increase in clinical testing, so you all might want to try and get some sleep,” Lesko recommended coldly as she stepped towards the exit to the chamber. “You’re all going to need your rest.”

Despite the advice, no one was able to get back to sleep, each of them stunned by the demise of Carla, though more so by the cold manner in that her death was treated by the old woman. 

*** 

“Do you know what a neurological survey is, Wyatt?” Lesko inquired after the man was firmly secured on the medical table that he was becoming far too familiar with.

Wyatt also knew that whenever the scientist started off their sessions with a question that something particularly unpleasant was about to transpire and he often wondered if whatever was to follow would be the thing that finally killed him. “No,” he answered softly, his eyes following the machine that was wheeled next to the table by Emily’s preferred assistant, Halley Kane.

“It’s a way of testing the responsive capabilities of your nervous system through direct electrical current stimulation of ganglia or nerve bundles,” Lesko said as she looked over her glasses at the screen of a hand tablet that she passed off to Halley. “With the modifications that are being made to your body, I’m curious as to whether your reaction time is the same, improved or diminished from standard human parameters,” she continued, turning to face the man after retrieving a device that caused Wyatt’s heart to double its already increased rhythm. It looked nothing less than a large electrode with an extremely long needle attached to one end, the wires trailing back to a receptacle in the machine that had been wheeled closer to the bed. “Hold still,” Lesko ordered perfunctorily as she pushed the needle into the man’s fur covered wrist, ignoring the sweat that erupted from still functioning pores with the resultant pain that matted down the still growing coat of fur.

Wyatt clenched his teeth as the needle found the nerves that ran to his hand and felt the pain run all the way up his arm. His teeth ground as he tightly closed his eyes to restrain the tears that threatened to spill. “Why?” he grunted. “Why are you doing these things to us?”

“To put it simply, because I need to know…to prove that I’m right, Wyatt. We’ve discussed this before,” Lesko said with the same tone of voice that one would use to explain a punishment to a wayward child.

Wyatt was fairly certain that there was a less intrusive way that the test could be carried out with the advances in medical technology that existed, but the woman tended towards those methods and items that caused the most pain. Before he could say anything else, Lesko tapped a flashing icon on the machine’s touch screen and his entire arm and hand clenched as every muscle contracted with a violent surge that ripped a scream from his throat as it felt like his limb was filled with molten metal.

On and on it went until Wyatt lost complete control of his arm even though it felt as if every nerve was still twitching with shocks of electricity. From there his other arm followed the same series of tests until the mad doctor did the same to both legs. Before the procedure was completed to Lesko’s satisfaction, Wyatt passed out, unable to withstand anymore torture.

As Emily Lesko looked down on the man’s unconscious form Halley disconnected the electrode, the technician more than a little disturbed by the level of cruelty in the tests, though the young woman’s orders from Andre Bolivar quite clear in that she was to assist in the project without fail. While more than willing to pursue this new application of genetic science, Halley was more than a little uncomfortable in the manner in which that research was being carried out, though Andre himself had pointed out that that was one of the reasons the use of criminals slated for execution had been selected as the test subjects. It was that particular facet that had enabled Halley to continue on with her contributions to the overall project.

“I’m impressed he was able to withstand that much,” Doctor Lesko stated drily as she dabbed the thick perspiration from the man’s forehead. “He’s a good base with which to measure the others.” The woman deposited the disposable towel into a wastebasket with a red bag denoting it was to be incinerated at a later date. “Go ahead and have the guards bring in the large one…Perry. Care to wager how long he’ll last before he passes out?” she asked in a moment of morbid humor.

“No, thank you, Doctor,” Halley muttered, hoping she appeared more clinically detached than she felt. In a moment of honesty with herself, Halley admitted that while there were a few of the individuals that she really didn’t mind seeing under Lesko’s microscope, some of them, such as Wyatt Renner, didn’t seem to belong here at all. They had been monsters to the young woman when she’d first been told of her part in the project, but now she found herself questioning who the monsters really were.

“Hmm, perhaps you’re right. It isn’t very professional to bet on the subjects.” Lesko stepped to the small desk and picked up a cup of tea and sipped at it in thought. “Well, never mind. Bring in Perry and we’ll begin the next round of testing.” 

*** 

 By the time Wyatt awoke the others were back in the chamber, most of the other males unconscious on their bunks with the glassteel partitions to their cells closed. The females of the Group were still missing from where Wyatt had seen them taken into a different area that he’d never been. Another fact that caught his pain-fogged awareness was the cell that Carla Weems had been kept in was now occupied by a stranger. He vaguely recalled Lesko ordering replacements for the Group 1 numbers. The man stood at the glassteel partition with his fingers gripping the clear material through the small perforations and staring at him with a completely emotionless gaze. Had Wyatt not been in the addled and exhausted state he was in, he might have found the unflinching, lifeless stare disconcerting. As it was he was simply happy at being back in the relative comfort and seclusion of his cell.

It was quite sometime later when the remaining females of Group 1 returned to the chamber. Julie, Tonya and Maddie went to their cells without pausing, though Wyatt could only see Julie. She lay on her side facing away from the door, her hands balled together and pressed low into her stomach. It was the same with the other two women. When the cart was brought in with the rations for their evening meal, only the men emerged to eat, the newcomer waiting until the others were seated at the benches and large table before getting his own packet and retreating back to his cell. Wyatt took it upon himself to take a packet for each of the women and got the other two situated before taking the last packet to Julie.

“Hey. Got dinner,” the young man said as he stood at the opening, the glassteel partition open for the evening meal.

“Don’t know if I feel like eating,” the woman mumbled, rolling over with a wince, her eyes closing in discomfort as she resettled, her eyes now a slightly orange tinged dirty yellow. “Don’t feel like doing a lot except laying here.”

Wyatt nodded in sympathy as the woman rolled to a sitting position with a grunt and held out her hand for the ration packet despite what she’d said. “I’m guessing you had a different type of test than the rest of the guys and I did.”

Julie gave him a sardonic look. “Can’t harvest eggs from a guy,” Julie growled. “Something about wanting to see how the transformation was affecting our ova and production. I get the feeling that us gals will be going through it a few more times.”

Wyatt swore and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “I…I don’t know what to say but sorry…”

She waved her hand dismissively and tried to open the packet before giving up for the moment. “So what did Frankenstein do to you guys? You all look like hell.”

“Neurological survey is what she called it,” Wyatt answered, sitting down when Julie motioned to the end of her bed for him to sit down. “Big needle and lots of electricity.” He almost offered to open the packet for the woman before realizing that he really didn’t have the strength for it then smiled as Julie put her thickened, changed nails to work to rip the plastic open.

“Jeez. I take back what I was thinking. What we went through was uncomfortable and embarrassing, but no worse than seeing a lady’s doctor.” She looked at the still unopened packet in Wyatt’s hand and traded him by handing him the opened container and taking his. “Cool. Didn’t feel like turkey, anyway.” She stirred the contents with the included spoon. “You know who our new roomies are?” Julie asked, looking far enough in Wyatt’s direction to see him shrug. “Don’t know the other guy, but the one in the cell next to mine? That’s James Pinkerton. Talk about bad news…”

Wyatt jerked his head up and looked at Julie with shock. “Pinkerton?” he asked before swearing again. “That’s just great.”

“Yeah,” the woman agreed before taking a spoonful of goop that was supposedly beef stew. “I guess now it’s going to become a question of who kills us first; Lesko or him, huh?” Julie lowered her ration pack and glanced out the door, her voice barely a whisper when next she spoke. “I think we’re going to have to work together to keep him from killing us all…”

— NEXT CHAPTER —

Unless otherwise noted, all material © Ted R. Blasingame. All rights reserved.