The Project's End - Part 1 Snippet

Chapter 5: Project Origin

September 17th, 1943

A.D.C.F Facility, Channel Islands, Russia

          "Hah, stop Mordecai! The baby can feel that.." she shouts, laughing. "Good, I want him to remember this," I reply with a grin. "You don't have to teach him to be rough.." "Lylian, I kno–." Suddenly, I hear a car door close. I get up and walk to the door. "Mordecai, hello?" I awakened to see my friend's hand waving in my face.

          "Thanks, Milo," I say, shaking off the remnants of the dream. Two thunderclouds roll in fast into the empty sky as we drive to the 'Associated Disease Incineration Containment', or "A.D.I.C." for short. It's been a heavy toll these last six months as we've long sailed from New Guinea to the Channel Islands here in Russia.

          "Mordecai, look!" Milo shouts, pointing to the entrance barely visible through the shade of some trees. "We're almost there," Sarge announces, as we all look at the facility lighting up the sky. "Sarge, are they aware of our arrival?" Milo questions as we start to get up from the back seats of the humvee. Through the passenger side, I glance around and catch a glimpse of the book "Mein Kampf" by Adolf Hitler. "Corporal, eyes forward! Doctor Conrad," Sarge says, greeting a Russian doctor.

          I see Milo walk up next to me. "Sorry, sir, I had to tie my boots," Milo explains. "Don't apologize!" Sarge commands.

          "I have a bad feeling about this," Milo whispers to me, then straightens up. Milo has been a bit of an enigma. After we escaped that prison camp, he carried with him the youthful energy and optimism that reminded me of myself when I first joined. Yet, beneath that, there was a layer of uncertainty and a hint of fear.
He was eager to prove himself but also clearly anxious about the unknowns we were walking into. Despite his nervousness, Milo had a sharp mind and a good heart, traits that had earned him a spot on this mission.

          "Yes, sir, I—" Milo starts but can't finish. "Corporal, get up here," Sarge interrupts. I hustle up to shake the doctor's hand. "Hm, you must be the Americans who've come to see 'the aid of the world.' Like Hitler, we have 'super soldiers' ourselves. The USSR and the USA are the only countries who know about the experiments," Doctor Conrad says. He points at Milo and asks, "Is 'HE' with you?"

          "Yes, I took him under my watch after the Battle of Bismarck," I admit. Sarge signals Milo over. The doctor watches him and asks, "What's your name?" Caught off guard, Milo still manages to answer. "It's Milo, sir. Milo Stein."

         Milo had been a part of my life for only a few months, but he had quickly proven his worth. Despite his initial awkwardness and the occasional bout of clumsiness, there was something inherently trustworthy about him. He had this earnestness that was rare in soldiers his age—a willingness to admit his mistakes and a fierce determination to learn from them.

          It made him a quick study and an asset on a mission like this, where adaptability was key. "Very well, follow me," Doctor Conrad says, leading the way. The Sarge follows him up, talking, as we walk into the facility. I notice a helmet in the bushes and pick it up. 'BhCC,' What were they doing here? I thought, walking behind Milo.

          Milo starts to say something but then begins itching his chest. "You alright, Milo?" I ask. The doctor and Sarge look back and walk towards us. "He's alright," Doctor Conrad says. "There must be a leak in the air filter; sensitive flesh that isn't used to the air gets irritated. It will be fine," Sarge adds.

         Milo tries to suppress his discomfort, but it's clear that something is wrong. His normally steady hands tremble slightly as he scratches at his chest. He looks at me, his eyes wide with a mix of confusion and fear. "I'm fine, really," he insists, but the wavering tone of his voice betrays his uncertainty.