Derelict

The Innocent Escape Trouble - Part A

"Whatever you say," responded Doc. It was clear this conversation or a variation on a similar theme had occurred previously. "Just realize the Mandu wouldn't take too kindly to anything happening to me. Who else are they going to get to run all these bio-modification tests? Are you qualified? Do you want to tell them you don't like the way I run my lab?"

Bryan struggled to speak. He again willed his arm to move and was rewarded when his fingers twitched. Sensation began to trickle into his hands and feet. His throat burned from the vomit and the taste in his mouth threatened to induce a whole new round of sickness. "Mandu? Who are the Mandu?"

Mr. Sanchez looked startled. "Hey! It speaks. How about that Doc? This is the first one to survive this far."

Doc bent close, shining a painfully bright light into his eyes. With his face only inches away, Bryan could smell his breath. Bologna. It smelled of bologna.

"Alright. This is good," muttered Doc. "Go fetch Number Twenty-nine, if you would please."

Mr. Sanchez paused. "You know the rules Doc. I'm not supposed to leave you alone with a test subject. What if it your miracle injection wears off and he hops off that bed?"

"Please. He's got enough of that drug running through his veins to paralyze a bull elephant. He's not going anywhere. He can't even feel his arms and legs. Just get going, Sanchez. They're going to want to see this."

"Your funeral Doc if this falls to pieces. And it ain't gonna be on me, let me tell you." Mr. Sanchez spat a stream of tobacco juice into a plastic cup and grabbed his rifle leaning against the wall, shutting the door behind him.

Doc watched him go then turned back to Bryan and patted him on the shoulder. "Disgusting pig, isn't he?"

"What are you doing to me? What's happening?" Bryan's head reeled as he tried to get the words out.

Doc gave another pat on the shoulder. "Well, it seems the Mandu have a desire to see how humans react when a bit of alien genetic material is introduced into their systems. I guess they're thinking they can create compliant slaves, ones that retain all their intelligence but none of their belligerence. You know, blend a little of them into a human and who knows? It might even work."

Disgust and rage filled Bryan. "You're helping them? They're the enemy you traitor! How can you do this? How can you even consider working for them? As bad as Sanchez is, you're the disgusting pig."

Doc gave a little smile and turned away, writing notes in the file. Bryan clenched his fist and realized he was able to raise his arm. He glanced at Doc and continued working and straining to restore circulation and life to his limbs.

Doc turned back to Bryan, who let his hand fall lifeless to his side. "The Mandu are smart and they're tougher than nails to kill, but I expect you already know that," said Doc as if lecturing a class of students. "What you may not know is that they wouldn't lift a finger to work if they can get someone or something to do it for them. And that's where you come in."

"What?" Bryan began to get worried. "You shot me up with their blood or something?"

"Oh now. Don't you worry. It'll all be over soon." Doc tried his best to sound comforting but it instead came out as condescending. "Either it will work and the Mandu genetic material will have coalesced into your body or it won't. But it won't: no one has survived. Every single test subject has died and I'm afraid you're not going to last too much longer."

He turned back to his notes and Bryan renewed his efforts to move. You better move! It's now or never. Both arms lifted and he felt strength returning.

"Sanchez, you idiot!" Doc slammed the file down on the work counter and continued his rant. He glanced over his shoulder at Bryan and continued. "That moron gave you the incorrect dosage. When he gets back here with Number Twenty-Nine, you can bet he'll hear me call him an idiot once again. And this time the Mandu will be right here to witness his screw-up."

Bryan watched with growing apprehension as Doc grabbed a syringe and filled it from an amber colored vial. Doc held it up to the light to examine it, then placed it on Bryan's chest and turned back to the counter to grab a pair of latex gloves.

Bryan realized Doc assumed he was still completely paralyzed and took the opportunity to grab the full syringe. As Doc turned back to the gurney, snapping his gloves into place, Bryan drove the needle deep into his thigh and emptied the contents into the traitor.

"What have you done?" cried Doc. "You've killed me!"

"Yeah. I hope so. You should have thought of the consequences before you sold out to the other side."

Doc collapsed in a heap to the floor, still awake and aware but lacking strength and control of his extremities. "What do you think? You plan to escape? There's nowhere to run, you fool." His words began to slur and his eyes slid shut. A thin line of drool slid from the corner of his mouth. "Why else do you think I work for them?" Then he was quiet. He did not move again.