Marcus

The link to my blog with the daily efforts for 24/7. The goal is to write a short piece every day for the first 24 days of August and then spend the last seven days revising a few pieces. I sent the 98 word horror story out into the world, and if it sells, I’ll let you know. There was something else I was going to say, but it’s gone right out of my head. Oh well. On with the story, then.

***

Marcus Billings read the latest reports and sat back, his hands over his eyes. He rubbed them wearily, then massaged his temples and forehead. His imagination drew a picture of the future and it was bleaker than any post Apocalyptic movie he’d ever seen.

It had gone too far. The creatures they had released had simply bred too fast, lived too long and proved more adaptable than they had envisioned. He couldn’t warn the people of Toronto or Australia or anywhere else in the world; not without being charged with treason during war and being executed.

Funny how a seemingly simple idea could so so horribly awry. Why had he not spoken up more strenuously about the tests? He was sure at the time that the creatures might get out of hand. But what if–? he had asked, and his protestations had been shot down. Crap. And then the accidental release in New Orleans. That was becoming a nightmare.

A tap at the door pulled him away from that train of thought.

"Yeah!" he called out.

The door opened a crack and Jeremy Reitsden put his head in. "Got a minute?" he asked.

Fuck no. "Sure. What’s up?" Marcus closed the window on his computer.

"There’s a problem with the latest batch of devils," Jeremy said.

Marcus kept himself from throwing either his computer or Jeremy through the wall by clasping his hands together tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. "Oh, really?" His voice sounded calm to his ears. Good. "What kind of problems?"

Jeremy shifted his weight from foot to foot. He cleared his throat. His eyes darted around the room. Marcus inhaled slowly and deeply and blew out a slow breath. Jeremy looked at the wall above Marcus’ head. "Well, six of them got out."

"Got out," said Marcus. "Of their cages? The lab?"

Jeremy’s mouth twisted. "The building."

Marcus blinked several times as the meaning sank into his brain. "The building," he repeated.

"Possibly the compound." Jeremy looked into Marcus’ eyes.

"Shit. Fuck. And goddamn," Marcus said in a calm tone. "How did it happen? Does it even matter now? It’s done. They’re loose in an area where there are enough hiding places for hundreds of them. They breed faster than rabbits, they’re fiercer than the devils we bred them from–fuck."

"But there’s only six," Jeremy said. "That many can’t overrun too quickly. Can they?"

"How many were female?" asked Marcus. "Were any of them pregnant? Remember, we’ve got them down to three weeks’ gestation and they mature in six. That’s not good to have loose where we don’t want them."

"I don’t know," Jeremy said. "Karen said that six got out–I–I didn’t ask."

"Well go find out and let me know," said Marcus. Not that it’s going to do us any good. We’re fucked.

Jeremy left. Marcus heard Jeremy’s rapid footsteps fading as he hurried down the corridor. He went back to his secure email and read the reports.

From Canada: three separate packs have been reported as highly active. In Nova Scotia, Toronto and in western Alberta. Local authorities have not been in contact with each other Inquiries made by a small scale research group out of McGill University. Researchers consist of one man, one woman, in departmental division for examing anomalous lifeforms such as Bigfoot. Generally not taken seriously. Low risk.

From Australia: Reports confined to one cattle rancher. Not spreading to other areas as yet. In contact with Canadian researchers, but also low credibility score.

From Indonesia: No credible witnesses. Body mutilations assumed to be work of rats and other scavengers. Low risk.

From England: Attacks have been small scale to date. Local authorities seem unaware of anything out of the ordinary. Possible that no one has witnessed the attacks. Victims mostly alone, mostly homeless or others on the fringes of society. Low risk.

He was about to read the next report, the one from New Orleans, when his concentration was interrupted by a commotion down the hall. He stood up and went to the door.

***

More later.