Mr. Harper cracked the wondow as his driver switched lanes on Interstate 90. He then lit a cigar and opened the black folder on his lap and began to read.
both subjects were of course convicted fellons. it had to be that way. the target subject had not been in the room but the smaller of the two had sufficed.
naturaly it was a suprise that his technicians didnt have to lock the room and gas the subjects to sleep, thereby allowing them to enter and administer the syrum.
It was a pity that the subject had showed signs of uncontrolable violence. he had taken to the virus with a speed not matched by his peers.
he studdied the last four charts on a list of 61 subjects taking note of the heart rate and thermal mind scans, durring the adaption to the virus.
he was amazed at how many patterns had taken place in 61s mind.
His phone rang
"this is Harper" he stated gruffly into his blue tooth device, his eyes barley leaving the charts on his lap. as he puffed again on his expensive cigar.
suddenly, he sat uppright and gazed ahead in shock, as the ash of his cuban fell on the paper in his lap.
"when?" he asked as he brushed away the ashes and jotted a note on 61's chart.
"No,no, you say nothing" he said as he shifted his large frame to tap the drivers shoulder.
"Turn us around" he commanded. "we have a very large problem!"
YOU ARE READING
Test Subject 61
Mystery / ThrillerA non-sanctioned lab experment goes horribly wrong. a monster has been let loose on the streets. the scramble to fix a problem that is running loose and terrorizing civilians only grows more chaotic as time passes.
