Act of Mercy Page 4

  Gaspard pursed his lips. “Doctor Deluca, that is a customer loyalty card,” he said, his English laced with a heavy French accent. He licked his lips, as if he were doing his best not to laugh. “For a coffee house.”

  Nervous, she thumbed through her lab coat and groaned. How could she have forgotten her badge? She’d had it when she’d entered the main lobby. The more she thought about it the more she realized the other guards had simply waved her through after first entering the building. She was that well known throughout the Corporation.

  The phone at Gaspard’s desk beeped. He put a hand up indicating she needed to wait a moment. Tension filled every muscle on her body.

  This was it.

  She was busted.

  She just knew it.

  He spoke in French faster than she could follow along and then hung up the phone. He grinned at her. “Your badge is at the desk in front. Try to remember it next time, yes?”

  “Yes,” she managed, her palms sweaty.

  “At least you have on matching shoes this time,” he said, shaking his head, mumbling something about doctors being forgetful, especially the Americans. She did have a tendency to be absentminded, but that was only because her mind was always full of other thoughts. Just the other day she’d arrived at work only to discover she had on two different sneakers—they were the same brand but different colors. Things like that happened often to her. She’d grown used to it.

  Apparently, so had the guard. He waved her through.

  Once inside the small holding area, Mercy moved to the retinal scanner unit. She stood still, her eyes open as a red laser scanned them. Seconds felt like minutes as she did her best to keep from shaking or sweating. She couldn’t tip them off. She’d designed the scanners to pick up on distress. They were far more advanced than any others in use around the world. She had only herself to blame if she was caught. It would be her own tech turning against her.

  She had to do this.

  Lives depended on her.

  Be calm.

  A red light appeared, followed by a loud beep.

  She tensed. It had rejected her. Her own damn machine had rejected her.

  Gaspard leaned in. “Relax, Doctor. I know you were worried about your badge. It has been found. Be calm.”

  She did her best to do as he commanded. Though, she was hardly nervous about the badge. More like being worried she’d be discovered as a traitor and executed, but if he needed to think her anxiety originated from forgetting her badge, fine.

  This time the scan worked. The large door beeped once and a green light lit. The huge metal doors slid open. Mercy had to fight to keep from running through them. With slow, deliberate steps, she entered the laboratory. Her heeled knee-length boots clicked on the hard floor, echoing throughout the room, announcing her presence. Two scientists glanced in her direction. The first cursed in French under his breath at her. He’d never cared much for her.

  The feeling was mutual.

  He was best buddies with Dr. Bertrand, whom she hated.

  She hated all of them.

  They were demons dressed in lab coats.

  Bertrand was worse than most, though.

  Still, she was a trusted doctor and biomedical engineer and was vital to what they were doing. They knew as much. She continued on, as if she was due in to check over her current projects. She wasn’t due for two days. That was her next scheduled maintenance run on the equipment in the cellblock. By then it could be too late. Test Subject 87P could already be dead. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Not if she had it in her to save him.

  Or at least try.

  She’d failed others.

  She’d not fail this one.

  After several more security checkpoints she finally made it to the main cellblock—where the prized collection was held. These were the test subjects with high research value—yet little actual value for their lives. Even in death their bodies could be studied and dissected. Each cell was specially designed to hold different types of test subjects.

  Not test subjects, she thought. People. Human lab rats.

  Yes, they were certainly more than human as she’d learned during her time with the Corporation, but they were people nonetheless and they didn’t deserve what was being done to them. When she’d first happened upon data sequencing reports on various test subjects within the facility, she’d thought it was a joke. That a scientist there had suddenly developed a sense of humor.

  That wasn’t the case.

  Back then she’d had a hard time making sense of what she was looking at. Animal, human and unidentified DNA. As she’d read further, she’d discovered the DNA splicing that had gone on and, even more remarkable, the evidence many of the test subjects had been born with these traits. As horrifying as the idea of genetically splicing human and animal DNA was, she’d been unable to tear herself away from the source material. All the while she read it she kept thinking about the ugly history of science—of monsters like IIya Ivanov and his ape-army attempts, of Hitler’s scientists—known better as Nazi’s Eugenics and their attempts at a master race, or the fact that this master race attempt actually had ties to America and its own sordid past with eugenics. Aside from being wrong ethically, each event was a mar on science’s good name. One more reason people feared it being left unchecked.

  And rightfully so.

  She’d been an advocate for science, but after learning the truth of what the Corporation did and what it really stood for, she found herself standing against them.

  No matter how one looked at it, this was wrong. What they were doing was monstrous and they had to be stopped.

  At great risk to herself, she’d smuggled large portions of their research out on small drives that she’d specially created. Once home, she’d looked over it all in more detail. The science side of her brain said what she was looking over was extraordinary and impossible. The test subjects who were born with animal DNA in them naturally—natural borns—were the next wave of human evolution. But the brutalities they’d endured at the Corporation’s hands were simply unspeakable. And the others—the ones not born with high levels of mutated DNA—had DNA introduced to them in ways that made her skin crawl. The Corporation’s think-tank team attempted nearly every variation and splicing of the human genome they could think of, with no thought to the test subject or the ethics of it all.

  To the monsters who ran the Corporation, the end justified the means.

  She hated them all.

  There had been one set of results she’d found herself unable to walk away from. The only notes had told of the subject being male and a natural born. The man’s sequence spoke to her, as only DNA could to a scientist. Mercy had been so fascinated with it that she’d actually printed it and put it on her wall in her bedroom so she could gaze upon it as she drifted off to sleep each night.

  Worry laced through her that her obsession with that particular sequence meant she was predisposed to be like Bertrand and the others.

  Monster scientists.

  That was part of why she worked so hard to bring the Corporation down.

  The obsession with the one sequence of DNA had never waned. Even in the face of all she’d learned. That particular sequence was special to her though she couldn’t explain why. She did know that its owner possessed a great deal of wolf DNA. So much so he could no doubt change forms.

  Her fascination hadn’t stopped there. She’d felt compelled to test herself as well, though she’d kept the results hidden from everyone else at the lab and had even gone so far as to have them processed under a fake Test Subject number.

  The results baffled her. They were inconclusive.

  How could that be?

  You know how, she reminded herself.

  She’d seen so much working for the Corporation that nothing should surprise her. But still, she wasn’t able to shift forms or do what many of these test subjects could do. She was just boring old Dr. Mercy Deluca. There was nothing extraordinary about her, despite wha
t her DNA tried to say.

  She’d come across video recordings of varying test subjects that had been held at one time or another within the facility. Mercy had seen with her own eyes what marvels they could perform. Things she tried to deny but had proof. Some could shift into animals, other could perform what could only be labeled as magik, some could do a mix of both, some craved and lived off blood… The list went on and on.

  The Corporation exploited it all and it sickened her. The way they were going about trying to duplicate and even increase the results they already had was sick. In addition, others seemed to be able to do certain things, things she had a hard time explaining away scientifically.

  Because it’s magik.

  As a scientist she’d been trained not to believe in magik. That everything could be explained.

  This couldn’t.

  She’d tried.

  She’d accidentally walked in on the torture of one. Test Subject 87P. From the very moment she’d locked gazes with him, she’d felt a connection to him. A friendship born out of necessity but one she didn’t want to lose. Already the guards and scientists pushed the man’s limits too far. They’d kill him soon if she didn’t get him and any others they were holding out of there.

  Mercy couldn’t think on the horrors now. If she lost her focus, she could lose her nerve. And if she lost her nerve, people would die.

  Including her.

  She was only valuable if she wasn’t trying to sabotage their entire operation.

  Which was exactly what she was trying to do.

  Once discovered, they’d make her death painful. She was sure of it.

  The last guard waved her through, speaking in French to her. Her French was limited but she knew enough to know he didn’t want to be bothered with conversing with her. That was fine. She didn’t want to make small talk with him either. It would be nearly impossible for her to pretend she cared what he had to say. She viewed him only as a monster.

  They all were.

  What would she say?

  Come up with any new and interesting ways to torture people? Find a way to wipe out any races yet?

  Sickos.

  The main door closed behind her and she put her hand out. Without looking, Mercy was able to shut off the audio to the area by simply using her hand and remembering each key’s position on the pad.

  She was that good.

  She’d already placed a virus within the software running the cameras. The cameras would cut in and out all around the facility, keeping the guards busy for a bit as they scrambled to fix the issue.

  She hurried down the stark white hall to the last cell. There was only one test subject remaining in the high value area. The others had been taken to another location. One she’d yet to figure out, but with more time and more digging she knew she’d discover it.

  Technology within the Corporation was leaps and bounds above anything currently on the market. To outsiders the place would seem like something out of a science fiction movie. To her, it had represented progress and hope—that was before she knew the truth. She keyed in the entrance code to the cell and held her breath, unsure what she’d find when she entered.

  She only hoped its current occupant was still alive.

  The door’s tint faded away quickly, leaving it see-through. Her chest tightened at the sight of the man slumped on the floor. His body was bloody and broken. His ear-length dark hair was matted to his head, caked with dried blood. The guards had been in again. They derived great pleasure at Test Subject 87P’s expense. How the man was even alive was a mystery to her. He’d taken more abuse than anyone ever should or really could.

  She nearly lost her breakfast as she waited for the damn door to slide open all the way, allowing her to enter.

  I have to free him.

  “Ohmygod,” she whispered, going to his side. There really wasn’t a good spot to touch him so she simply leaned in, lowering her voice, hoping to be a soothing addition. “I’m here. I did what you asked. I sent all the information I gathered to the contact you gave me.”

  Test Subject 87P didn’t trust easily. She couldn’t blame him. The Corporation had played games with him mentally and physically. Yet he’d not broken in all that time. He’d never given her his name. Mercy had been open and honest about hers from the moment she’d walked into his cell to calibrate a piece of equipment one of the scientists had been using.

  It was then she’d realized the full horror of what the Corporation did. She’d never seen anything like it. Had never been witness to torture. The hard resolve of Test Subject 87P, his refusal to let them see the obvious pain he’d been in, had moved her. There was a man who needed help badly, but would not lower himself to ask for it. She knew the scientists would kill him at some point.

  After that, she’d started digging into the Corporation, learning what they really did and how much they’d done it.

  She was stunned.

  She’d unwittingly assisted them by helping to create technologies they used against the test subjects. The truth of her role in it all devastated her. She made the choice in that fraction of a second to make a difference. To stop the Corporation no matter the personal cost.

  Test Subject 87 opened his eyes and stared out, the green in his eyes more intensified because they were rimmed with red. “Dr. M-Mercy?”

  Relief rushed through her. He was alive.

  “Yes. I’m here.” She nodded. “What can I do?”

  He didn’t speak for a few moments and she knew why—his jaw looked as if it was healing a break. She’d read his charts. He had a healing rate that exceeded many of the others who had been held at various times in the facility. “I can try to find something for the pain.”

  “No,” he whispered. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.” And he didn’t. He looked about as far from fine as a person could get and still be breathing.

  Actually, a normal person wouldn’t still be breathing.

  “I’ve looked worse.” His attempt at humor fell flat on her.

  She doubted that he’d ever looked worse. “I did what you told me to. No one responded through the channels. I don’t know if they got it all.”

  He coughed and blood flew out. His internal injuries were grave. “They got it.”

  “How can we be sure?” She wanted to comment on his condition but she’d spent enough time talking with him over the past few months to know he had some sort of medical training. In fact, she’d hazard a guess that he had quite a bit. He knew what bad shape he was in. He didn’t need her constantly pointing it out.

  He let out a weak laugh. “Because once information like that begins to float in the public at all, they have a way of picking up on it, and if you sent it to who I said to, it went straight to the source.”

  “What does this mean?” she asked, her voice strained with worry as she balled her hands into fists in a futile attempt to keep from crying. The situation was grave enough as it was without her melting into an emotional heap. That would accomplish nothing.

  He lifted his head slightly and the action looked as though it took great effort. “Means the cavalry is coming and is gonna hand out a can of whoopass on this place.”

  A small smile pressed to her mouth, but she didn’t feel happy so it never reached her eyes. She hated what had been done to him and others like him. Hated that she’d been unable to release him. She’d thought of all the varying ways she could try to sneak him out but none were plausible. And if he didn’t get out soon, he’d end up dead.

  Others had.

  One life lost would have been one too many. There were far more than one.

  She’d found records on the test subjects who hadn’t survived, who hadn’t had anyone there to help them. There had been too many to count. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know they did this…”

  “I know,” he said. He took a few deep breaths that looked painful.

  She wanted to help him, to take away his pain, but that wasn’t possible.
At best she could ease it, if he let her.

  “You did everything I told you to, right?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she responded, her voice shaky. She couldn’t cry. If she cried she’d never get herself pulled back together. Now wasn’t the time to go to pieces. She’d not let herself break down over this all yet. She would, if she survived it all. Then and only then would she have a good cry. One that probably lasted days. “I gathered all the research I found they’d done here, encrypted it and sent it along with the message PSI-Op JH2.”

  He licked his lower lip and she knew he was thirsty. She rushed out of the cell and to a small kitchen area not far from the cells. Paper cups were stacked neatly near a water jug. How cruel to put a jug of water so close and within sight of the prisoners but never offer them any.

  I hate these people.

  She filled a cup with water and was back in his cell within seconds. “Here,” she said, lifting his head and putting the paper cup to his lips. He only managed to take a small sip.

  He nodded slightly. “You added your name, right?”

  “I did.”

  He blinked up at her. “And you added the other code word, right?”

  “What other code word?”

  “Tell me you added the GreenLightJH2 behind your name,” he said, trying but failing to sit up. Everything on him appeared to strain, but he made no headway in moving. She’d seen him months ago when he’d been newer. He’d been ripped then, full of muscle and an imposing sight. He was pretty much skin and bones now, and the definition he’d once had was barely there.

  Mercy bit her lower lip. She’d forgotten that part. All of her energy had gone into gathering and encrypting the data. She wasn’t a super spy. These types of things didn’t come naturally to her. “No. Sorry. There was so much to remember and I was nervous and…”

  “Get out,” he said, but without any malice. His command sounded more like a plea from a desperate man. One who didn’t want her harmed. Even with all he’d been through he still held compassion for others.

  His internal strength amazed her.

  “Go!” he shouted. “When they come, they’ll treat you like they will the rest of them here. Go! Run and hide!”