Enter the Hound: The Origin of Inu

Chapter 8: Genome

 

            Austin stood in line with the other participants, half-listening as the doctor -- what was his name?  Marrow?  Morrow?  Monroe?  Something like that anyway -- rambled on excitedly about scientific breakthrough and the several rounds of injections they would receive over the next few hours.  He was worried about Ashley.  She hadn’t been escorted to the lower levels with rest of the group, and he was beginning to wonder if the perfume had affected her more severely than he had imagined.  For the moment, though, there was nothing he could do for her.  He would have to content himself with asking a nurse to check up on her after the doctor finished his lecture.

            Nadine and Cori-O were also worried, but they were in no better position to help Ashley than Austin was.  Also, there was the matter of payment to worry about.  Nadine wanted to hurry up and finish this little experiment so she could get paid.  Then she could afford to take Ashley and Austin to lunch and they could laugh about Cori-O and the blonde, and how her dime-store perfume knocked Ashley for a loop.  She just wanted to go and have a good time to forget the creepiness of the facility and the surrounding neighborhood.

            As the doctor finished his speech, the participants were ushered into a room with a number of hospital beds and monitors.  It was clean, but not sterile; it did not have that faint bleach smell that Austin always detected in hospitals.  The air was warm and stagnant, the IV stands the slightest bit rusty; even the privacy curtains, which should’ve been stark and crisp, were worn and faintly yellow.

            Each participant was taken to a bed and strapped down.  The doctor went to each and every bed, silently appraising each person and whispering to his assisting nurses.  Gone was the excitement that so animated him during the lecture.  His demeanor was cold now, and somewhat aloof.

            “Where is Dr. Pembroke?” he asked one of the nurses.  His voice dripped with scholarly boredom.

            “I believe he went to lunch, sir,” said the nurse.  “He should be back momentarily.”

            The doctor nodded and continued his appraisal.  He made notes on his clip board as he walked back and forth through the room, occasionally glancing at the clock above the door.

 

**************************

 

            It took longer than he had expected, but at last Dr. Pembroke made it back to the deserted neighborhood that was home to Genome.  He used the rear entrance to the building to avoid the research participants, knowing that Dr. Moreau would be with them.  He wanted some time to think before returning to work.

            Dr. Pembroke’s office was small and cramped.  There were no windows to let in light or fresh air, and the single naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling did a poor job of illuminating the tiny space.  Judging from the drain in the middle of the floor, he suspected his office had originally been a utility closet.

            The folding table that functioned as his desk was cluttered with yellowing napkins and empty paper coffee cups.  Post-its dated three years back clung feebly to the dusky computer monitor on the side closest to the wall.  Sitting on top of the monitor were two small framed photographs.  One was of himself with his beloved wife before the change; the other was taken after the change had completed its course.

            Poor Kaede.  Harvey had been lucky; the change hadn’t affected him as badly as it had her.  Like her husband, Dr. Kaede Akita had grown dog ears and shed her human ones.  But it didn’t stop there for her.  Her nose and mouth became elongated and dog-like.  She grew a tail almost overnight.  Her nails turned hard and black like claws.

            It was this second photograph that Dr. Pembroke took as he sat down at his desk.  He gazed at his beloved Kaede, still beautiful even after all the mutations, and brushed his fingers against the glass over her face.

            “I met our daughter today,” he whispered to the image.  “She has your eyes.”

            A soft tapping on the door startled him.  Placing the photograph back on the monitor, he opened the door.  It was one of the nurses who had been assisting with the participants.  She hurriedly whispered a few things to him, nodded as he gave her his response, and scurried back to her post.  Moments later, Dr. Pembroke left his office and headed for the testing room where the participants were being held.

            Dr. Moreau was waiting for him when he entered the room.

            “So nice of you to finally show up, Harvey,” Dr. Moreau spat.

            “Sorry, James,” said Dr. Pembroke.  “I had chili at lunch, and it just about tore--“

            ”You will address me as Dr. Moreau in front of the test subjects.  Is that perfectly clear?”

            Dr. Pembroke hung his head and nodded.

            Dr. Moreau gave Dr. Pembroke his charts and told him to stay and monitor the test subjects.  They were to have three more rounds of injections before midnight, and the IV bags were changed.

            “They’re currently receiving this,” Dr. Moreau said as he pulled a bag out of the cooler and showed it to Dr. Pembroke.  The IV unit was filled with a murky blue liquid.  “CX-1247B.”

            Dr. Pembroke frowned and choked back a snarl.  Dr. Moreau grinned.

            “Yes, I dare say you should be familiar with it,” he continued.  There was a manic gleam in his eye as he stroked the IV unit.  “You and Dr. Akita tested CX-1247Prime over twenty years ago.  Pity about your wife, Harvey.”

            “I thought you shelved that project,” Dr. Pembroke said.

            “I had to,” Dr. Moreau answered.  “CX-1247A was great improvement, but the side effects were abominable.  All the test subjects sponatenously combusted and blew up the facility.  You know that.  Why else would we be in this rat hole?

            “But CX-1247B will be better.  I can feel it, Harvey.  This is it.  This is the key to my destiny!”

            ‘This is the key to my Hell,’ thought Dr. Pembroke.

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1