Bernard Frankenheimer Center Series Page 3
He’s the most ruggedly handsome man I’ve ever seen. With dark brown hair, wavy and mussed, and the ghost of a beard on his jaw. He’s dressed in dark jeans, a black button-up and a leather jacket. The leather doesn’t hide the bulge of his muscles beneath and the jeans perfectly accentuate his ass. He looks like the kind of man who couldn’t care less what you think of them, partially because they know exactly what you’re thinking. I swallow with some difficulty as my eyes are locked onto the man. If he’s going to be working in my lab every day, I certainly could find the time to admire him—err, his work.
My throat is still dry, and it’s difficult to swallow. Suddenly, as Dr. Slickberg adjusts his lab coat and points out some of the new equipment, inviting the new man to inspect it, I catch sight of the tell-tale silver of his shrink ray. My face pales as I realize he intends to use it on the new recruit as he fondles the handle. But why so soon? This man must have already handed over his research to Slickberg or arrived with a finished product. I can’t let this happen, I can’t let Slickberg get away with it again.
But what can I do? I glance around wildly, my mind scrambling for a solution.
He won’t hear me if I shout to warn him, there must be another way. Dr. Slickberg is leading the man in a slow circle around the room, pointing out the different equipment. They’ll end up at the microscope.
I scramble away from the leg of the table to the back wall where the cluster of wires is crowded around various electrical outlets. I jump up toward the colorful rubber-covered wires and manage to wrap my hands around one. Heaving myself up I straddle the rubber. I’ve got to get to that microscope. “You’ve done this countless time, now you just have to do it faster,” I whisper to myself as I start climbing the cord.
My muscles burn as I climb to the top of the desk faster than I’ve ever climbed before, hand over hand, leg up, leg up. It feels like I’ve been climbing for hours but I manage to crawl over the top of the desk before Dr. Slickberg and the new man have even gotten half way around the room. Without pausing to catch my breath, I sprint toward the microscope, staying behind various equipment to keep out of sight.
I need to find something to write with, I panic, casting my eyes around the room. There! I spot a small pool of spilled ink dripping from a discarded pen. I run to it, grabbing a tiny scrap of paper off the corner of a post-it-note in one hand. I thrust my hand into the puddle of ink and write a message on the paper, droplets of ink splattering everywhere. Finished, I clutch the message, wiping my hands on my lab coat, already stained and dirty from my many experiments, and head to the microscope.
There’s no time to reminisce about what I accomplished using this very microscope, no time to consider how my career was made at this desk. No, there’s only time to save that man.
Climbing the microscope is like climbing a slick metal tree but I manage to find footholds in the gears and the sharp grooves in the base. They’re only a few feet away now. I don’t bother to climb the scope completely, instead shoving the messy paper underneath the lens where I know he’ll see it. I drop to the desk, ignoring the pain in my ankles, and take off toward a pile of books nearby. If I don’t get out of sight soon, Dr. Slickberg will see me and I’ll be as good as dead.
Breathing heavily, I stay safely hidden behind the books. I hear them approaching, their heavy footsteps shaking the desk only slightly. I creep around to the other side of the books, near some equipment that’s plugged into the wall. I’m not waiting around without an easy escape in case Slickberg sees me.
I grip the wire in my hands and jump, sliding down like it’s a fireman’s pole. I resist the urge to hoot and howl, wind rushing past me, my coat flying out behind me. At the end of the wire, before I run into the outlet, I leap off, releasing it. I land in a crouch with practiced ease. The men’s shoes pass my field of vision and concern wells within me. I run across the floor, stopping just as the table overhead ends, staying in the shadows. They’ve reached the microscope as I arrive.
“Go on, humor me,” Dr. Slickberg says, holding something out to the man.
The man’s shoulders stiffen, as if he’s trying hard not to roll his eyes or say something sarcastic. He takes the item. Sighing, he bends over the microscope, his hands expertly adjusting the lens. He pulls back, a look of confusion on his face.
He’s seen my note.
4
Russell
I grin broadly as I take in the laboratory, imagining the work I’ll accomplish in this room when the door swings open. A tall, thin, salt-and-pepper-haired man saunters in. He smiles widely at me and reaches for my hand. “Dr. Slickberg,” I greet him. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”
“Hello, Russell, welcome to the Bernard Frankenheimer Center,” he says, squeezing my hand a little too tightly.
Alright, so he’s the type who has to prove he’s the man, I think, a little amused. It’s not particularly surprising. I’ve found the most successful men are often the most insecure, deep, deep down. And with my looks, men often feel the need to compete with me. It’s my alpha blood.
“Glad to be here,” I say, releasing his hand.
He glances at Sarah carelessly. “That’ll be all. Why don’t you head downstairs and order us some lunch, maybe make us a pot of coffee while you’re at it?”
Sarah bristles but obeys, shutting the door behind her. I stare thoughtfully after her, sensing the animosity between her and Dr. Slickberg. He’s a bit of a dick, but her distaste for him seems more intense than that.
He claps me on the back. “Have a seat, Russell.”
I plunk down on one of the stools, though he remains standing. “I have to say, I’m a real admirer of your work. It’s truly impressive to be so highly accomplished in so many fields. I was very excited after I got that call from you,” I say seriously. The truth is, I was more than excited, I was on the verge of desperation.
He laughs, waving a hand. “Well, luckily I have plenty of resources to continue my research. Everything fascinates me. I’ve been making great strides.” Before I can reply, he clasps his hands behind his back and continues, “Such as artificial intelligence. Not nearly enough is being done in this field that can truly be commercialized. The silly smart-home toys are just nonsense in comparison.” He grins and I can practically see his ego inflating his head.
“That’s a very impressive endeavor,” I say politely. Not that I was asked.
“An endeavor,” he chuckles, smirking as if he has an impressive secret. “Let’s leave it at that. I want to talk about what research you’ll be doing for the Center.” He suddenly changes the subject and his demeanor changes as well. His face loses the jovial, arrogant smirk, settling into a cruel smile.
“Yes,” I say excitedly. “I already have some ideas, I was thinking, particle physics aren’t a field that…” I’m cut short as Dr. Slickberg sighs heavily and makes a sympathetic expression.
“Russell, I’m afraid your first project won’t have that level of autonomy,” he says pityingly. “All of the scientists at our Center are currently engaged in researching various aspects of the same project.”
I don’t really have a choice here. I’m brand new, with no reputation or support to my name. I force myself to nod in acceptance. “Alright, what is this project?”
“The study of human attraction. In recent years the field has stagnated, until it’s practically a joke. Here, we take it seriously, studying its many complexities,” Dr. Slickberg says proudly.
“For what purpose?” I’m not clear on what I’m doing here. What do particle physicists have to do with human attraction?
“A variety of possibilities are being explored, even the concepts of sex robots and flirtation assistants are on our radar, the two most successful projects that I’ve spear-headed.” Slickberg runs a hand over his moustache.
Sex robots? Damn.
“Now, Russell, first things first. The way we do things at the Bernard Frankenheimer Center is a little unusual but has directly contributed to our success. As you can imagine, our security methods are extensive,” Dr. Slickberg says, leaning back against the counter.
“Of course, anyone without a badge can’t access the facility.” I shrug.
“More than that. In order to protect our research from any kind of theft, insider trading, etc., I need your DNA,” he says, a grin spreading on his face.
“DNA?” I furrow my brows, uncertain. I don’t know that I feel comfortable willingly handing over my DNA to a stranger. But he is my boss.
“Just a strand of hair will do.” Dr. Slickberg waits expectantly.
Okay, he wants it right now. I pluck a strand of hair from my scalp and offer it to him. Eagerly, he slips it into a plastic vial, screwing the lid on tight. I pray I haven’t made a huge mistake.
“Excellent,” he says. I imagine a sinister tone to his voice. “How would you like to look at it, under the microscope?”
“Uh, no, thank you,” I say awkwardly. Looking at my own hair under the microscope was the first thing I did when my adopted parents gifted me one for my ninth birthday. Been there, done that. “I’m really interested to know what my role here will be,” I say, prodding him in another direction.
Dr. Slickberg nods understandably. “Some of our most important research is into what exactly makes people so attractive; it certainly isn’t simply appearance. It’s the pheromones. You’ve already made quite the contribution to my research,” he says, toying with the vial.
“Doctor, I’m not sure I understand. I’m a particle physicist, not a biochemist,” I say, pushing away from the table to stand at my full height.
Dr. Slickberg carefully withdraws the strand from the vial and offers it to me. “Go on, put it under the microscope. Please, just humor me.”
I sigh and take the hair, laying it carelessly beneath the microscope. I adjust the lens, clearing the image.
What the hell?
I press my eyes tighter against the lens, maybe there’s a dust mote in the way. But, no. What I’m seeing is real. There’s a note, written in impossibly small handwriting, beside my lock of hair. Don’t trust him, it reads. Clearing my throat, I pull away. If this is some prank on the newbie, it’s not remotely funny, it’s childish. I thought this place would be full of like-minded scientists bent on discovery, not silly elementary school pranks. Ready to confront Dr. Slickberg, I turn back to him, my eyes narrowed.
But he’s got a gun in his hand. A strange, silver weapon. And it’s pointed right at me. Before I can speak, he sighs heavily, as if I’ve bored him. “Russell, did you notice anything interesting about the follicle?”
I stare stonily at him.
“You see, your DNA is different, special, if you will. I didn’t need the strand of hair for security purposes, I needed your DNA for my research.” My heart drops in my chest. He can’t mean what I think he means. “I know you have a secret, Russell, I’ve seen it before, but I lost that sample. To continue, I needed this.” He plucks the strand of hair from the microscope and expertly slips it back into the vial, still training the gun on me.
I don’t speak, hoping he’ll continue his monologue until I can make my move.
“Shifter,” Dr. Slickberg continues, the word pulling me out of my thoughts.
What the hell? So, he knows.
Dr. Slickberg adjusts his grip on the gun, just slightly. He’s going to shoot. Before I can dodge, a loud electrical hum fills the air and my body is tingling. Suddenly, he’s high above me, a giant and I’m the size of a ball of lint. His foot hovers over my head. What the fuck is going on? I think, as his foot bears down on me.
It’s no use hiding my ability, the man already knows, and I’ve got to get away fast. I shift into a wolf, snarling angrily. My four loping legs carry me out from underneath his foot and toward the safety of the nearby counter. But he recovers quickly, changing the angle of his attack. I push myself harder, but I don’t know if I can outrun death.
5
Charlie
I was too late. I watch, my heart in my throat as Dr. Slickberg levels the gun at the young scientist, a malicious grin on his face.
“No!” I shout, anger flooding through me as the man’s body flashes in increments, shrinking down to my size.
Dr. Slickberg laughs, lifting a shoe, and the man recognizes his intentions. Instead of gaping at his strange situation, the man reacts quickly, taking off toward the door. Suddenly, mid-leap, the man’s skin ripples, his limbs elongate, and a layer of gray fur sprouts all over his body. Instead of a man, there’s a wolf loping across the tile floor.
What the hell?
I freeze, my jaw slack, as I watch what used to be a man escape from the furious Dr. Slickberg. A…werewolf? But that’s impossible. There must be another explanation, a scientifically sound explanation. But until I can figure it out, that man is going to need help.
“Damn it!” Dr. Slickberg screams, slamming his fist on the table. The ground shudders with the impact and I stumble a little, catching myself before I fall.
A ghost of a smile splits my lips. You’d think he’d have figured out that shrinking his victims isn’t the best murder method. I shake my head but now is not the time to be smug.
The wolf is still running through the lab, dodging Slickberg’s attacks. “Rita!” I shout, glancing around wildly. A snow-white mouse pokes her head through the crack in the wall. She scuttles toward me, her little round ears wiggling playfully. “No time, we’ll play later,” I say, giving her head a quick pat.
She waits patiently while I scramble onto her back. Seated, I grip her soft fur in my hands and urge her out from under the table. “Come on, Rita! Let’s go!” I shout, holding tight. She breaks into a run, galloping toward the wolf. Her little paws skitter across the floor. We blend into the tile and Slickberg doesn’t notice our presence.
We weave between table legs and Dr. Slickberg’s angered, stomping feet until the escaping wolf comes into sight. I steer her toward him, I have to get his attention. Rita finally catches a glimpse of our quarry and, with a terrified squeal, she skids to a halt. “No, no! Rita, it’s okay!” I comfort her, stroking her head.
She shakes her head. I can feel her entire body trembling beneath me. She cowers in the middle of the room, her head swinging from side to side as she looks for an escape. Quickly, I massage her ears. “He won’t hurt us, Rita. Come on, girl, let’s go,” I reassure her, urging her forward.
Hesitantly, she starts forward, though moving a little slower.
“Hey! Hey!” I shout as loudly as I can in the direction of the wolf.
The wolf’s head swings toward me, but he turns away quickly and continues his escape.
“Hey! No, come this way!” I yell, pointing toward the crack in the wall that leads to my sanctuary.
The wolf glances between me and the wall, his head dips in what I can only guess is understanding. He changes direction and lopes toward the crack in the wall. Relieved, Rita and I follow suit, scampering back to the counter. Dr. Slickberg begins dropping his feet at random, hoping to catch us beneath his shoes. “Serpentine, Rita!” I shout as we come dangerously close to being crushed.
She does as I say, running in a zig zag pattern across the floor at random. The sharp turns in every direction jerk me from side to side, but it’s a small price to pay for my life. Slickberg shouts angrily, waving his fists as we clear his stomping.
Our escape to the safety of the crack in the wall takes less than a minute but feels like hours. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my body at unbelievable levels. I feel elated, unstoppable, and incredibly jittery. Breathing hard, Rita and I join the wolf in front of the crack in the wall. I leap off Rita, freeing her to squeeze through the crack. She squeaks urgently as she wiggles through the tight space, disappearing into the wall. She’s still terrified of the wolf, but I’ll give her extra treats tonight for being so brave.
At close range, the wolf is a beautiful silver color, its fur mottled with specks of white. It gazes at me with honey-colored eyes. He’s beautiful. My heart thumps powerfully in my chest as our gazes meet. I have to take a deep breath to focus on anything other than those eyes. “Follow me. We’re safe in here,” I tell him before slipping into the crack.
Without looking back, I know he’s behind me. I can feel his eyes on me as I lead him to my makeshift home and lab.
What in the hell is going on?
6
Russell
The man in the dirty lab coat leads me into a large space behind the wall, where pieces of scraps decorate the room as furniture. His home is the empty space between two sheets of dry wall. A few rubber wires hang across the ceiling, probably electrical wiring for the Center. I spot a few handkerchiefs shoved against the wall and a pile of wrappers, strips of fabric, and other unidentifiable items in the corner. My rescuer looks around sheepishly, as if he’s embarrassed of the space. I cock my head at him, watching him carefully. He could be dangerous too. Outside, I can hear Dr. Slickberg cursing violently before the lab goes silent. He must have left.
I shift back into my human form, shaking out my limbs and rolling my neck. The man’s eyes are wide as he takes me in. Great. With concentration, I’m able to prevent my clothes from being torn to pieces by the shift. It’s an interesting part of my magic and very convenient. As I adjust my leather jacket, the man eyes me appreciatively. An electric thrill courses through me under the man’s gaze. I inhale, to get a scent from him. Immediately I’m overwhelmed with freshly cut wood and lavender. My inner wolf rumbles its approval at the man’s scent. I chew my lip. Interesting.
“This is turning out to be a hell of a day,” I groan, thinking back to this morning. Everything began so normally. The Center seemed like a dream come true. After all, not being able to find a position and then suddenly being offered one at a highly sought-after research facility, that was literally my dream come true. I drag a hand over my face. “So much for earning my PhD. I’ve been shrunk by a lunatic.” I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, even though my laugh is lacking humor. “I’m not even two inches tall!” I exclaim, a lopsided grin on my face. “It’s not funny.” I sober up as the weight of my situation hits me.