Prologue

PROLOGUE:

 

The facility was referred to as the Clinic. It was…apt.

The small room was white. An extreme, bleaching, dazzling influence. White enough to almost blind. Completely bare, too, apart from the few fixtures; a rudimentary bed, a monitor on a small table, and a viewing window. Professional. It went towards creating the atmosphere of serious technological and behavioural research. Anything less solemn was unacceptable.

No games. No personable behaviour. But all this had nothing to do with the researchers having a lack of humanity. Quite the opposite was true. The problem was that they may act too human, and in the past that had caused…incidents.

Without any kind of precursor, any kind of forewarning, green text began to appear on the monitor.

 

Date: 13 October

Experiment No: 12

Subject: Lazerus

 

The name was fictional, or at least had been made up by the researchers. It seemed inhuman to give the child a number, as though he was an object. A name had to be created, if only as evidence that they were humane researchers. It was important. It was the kind of society they existed in.

The text continued.

 

Method proposed: Subject to undergo chemically induced coma. Conduct neuroscan. Results to be recorded and reviewed.

Hypothesis: ………Unknown.

 

Eventually, a figure had appeared within the viewing screen. To any person in the facility, they would only appear as a silhouette. Their identity was completely unrecognisable to the eyes. Across from the viewing window an automated hatch slid open upwards. Something about it was magical, as though a hole suddenly appeared in the wall. There was no sign of the hatch existing before it was open.

Within a few seconds, two people entered the room. First was a young child, about eight years old. He was dressed completely in white, a tight fitting lycra-like suit, with a hood. The only exposed part was the child’s face. Following the child was a man. The stark difference between the two was their clothing. The man wore a black tight fitting suit, with bulk in patches on his chest, abdomen and thighs that suggested armour, and rugged looking black boots. His head, covered in short brown hair, was bare of clothing except for a device he wore on one side of his left temple. It was grey in colour, and seemed to be electronic in nature. Following the man, there was another electronic presence in the room. Whizzing around the man, in some kind of circular fashion, was a small robotic device, which flashed blue spotlights on almost every object in a sequential order. It moved quickly but in a very controlled manner, stopping and continuing with systematic precision. It seemed interested in every square inch of the room, but never strayed too far from the man.

 

Without warning, static-filled sound, a human voice, shattered the otherwise silence of the facility.

“Good morning, Benson.”

Due to the previously soundless atmosphere, the announcement startled the inhabitants of the room, causing both of them to jerk slightly in surprise. The figure in the viewing window waved in a friendly, relaxed manner.

“Good morning” said the man in black. He was gruff, and not especially friendly. He had the look of a man who did not appear to be pleased with his current situation.

“Hi!” said the child happily, who appeared to suffer no such concerns.

“Good morning, Lazerus”, said the figure, brightly. “Sleep well?”

“The bed was kinda hard, but it was ok,” said the child. “That thing is really cool!” The child pointed at the robotic entity, as it continued to prowl and scan the room with blue light.

“The probe? It is, isn’t it!” the figure in the window said jovially.

“What’s it doing?”

“Oh, it’s just searching the room for anything of interest, and telling Mr Benson about it,” continued the figure. “It’s harmless.”

“Can I play with it?” asked the child innocently.

“Maybe when you get older,” said the figure. “But in the meantime it is time for your medicine. Could you lay down on the bed for me?”

“Sure.” The youngster leapt onto the bed with enthusiasm, bouncing momentarily.

“How are you, Benson?” asked the figure.

Benson looked at the figure, then at the child. The expression on his face somehow indicated revulsion. He looked slightly ill, despite trying to maintain a gruff exterior.

“Nothing to worry about. Routine, right?” said the figure.

“Sure,” said Benson.

“It’s gonna be ok!” said the Child, smiling brightly. “I’m not scared of needles!”

Benson did not smile.

“Well, let’s begin,” said the figure quickly. “Lazerus, we’re just gonna give you a small injection, and you’ll go to sleep. While you’re asleep we’ll do some tests and then we’ll wake you up. Nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” said Lazerus. “But is Mister Benson alright? He looks kinda worried,”.

“I’m fine,” growled Benson. “Lie down. Now.”

The child look hurt. “I was just asking,”.

Laying down, Lazerus looked at the roof, and visibly relaxed.

“Benson, would you administer, please?”, said the figure.

The probe was continually scanning the room, but was visibly scanning Lazerus a little more than earlier.

“Wow!” said Lazerus brightly, as the probe flashed its blue lights in his eyes.

The probe got closer, and then, without warning, zoomed to Lazerus’s arm, and contacted briefly on his shoulder.

“Ow! That hurrrr…”, Lazerus’s speech slurred. His eyes closed, and he was still.

“There. No problems, whatsoever.” said the figure. The probe hummed quietly, dormant.

Benson also seemed more relaxed. “Now what?”.

“Ok, we conduct a neuroscan. Start on the upper levels of his conciousness, and scan lower from there. We’ll see how far we get before… you know.”

Abruptly, the apprehension returned to Benson’s features. This didn’t sit well with him. “I don’t want to be here when it happens,” he said, visibly worried.

“Benson, you know I’m no safer than you are,” said the figure. “We have done neuroscans before. It’s no more dramatic a reaction than if he is touched. We just need to find out how his mind is…working…especially while it happens.”

“While it happens?” emphasised Benson. He started to shake.

“Benson, tranquillity is key. Do not get worked up.”

The formerly calm, friendly atmosphere of the room had slightly evaporated. Benson’s brow furrowed in stress. He was a professional, and under other circumstances it would be an understandable and useful response. That moment was not one of those times.  

 

Which was why, suddenly, Lazerus sat up.

It was energetic, forceful, and not a characteristic of a friendly kid awakening from a restful sleep. Benson was startled. He backed from the bed quickly. The Probe blazed with sudden light, and began zooming around the room quickly, but its focus seemed to remain on the child. Lazerus sat there, seemingly oblivious, a curve in his spine, with his face looking into his lap. He remained still.

“Stay calm,” said the figure. From what they had learned from their subject, his command was perfectly reasonable and applicable to the situation. However, the tremor in his voice indicated that he was having trouble following his own instructions.

Lazerus’s eyes remained closed. And then, there was slow, very slow movement. His head. facing down like he was some kind of puppet being lifted by its strings, was slowly turning.

It was turning towards the boys left. Towards Benson.

“I thought you said he was out,” said Benson, slowly.

There was a pause. “He is,” said the figure. There was a resigned quality to his voice. What was occurring was exactly what was to be expected, and exactly the worst possible thing that could occur.

“It…It’s happening, isn’t it?”

“Benson, listen to me, you have to remain calm. You know the drill. You know how he responds…”.

“Right….yeah, yeah,” said Benson, breathing rapidly. “But you need to let me out of here.”

There was a pause. The figure in the window was bent over, working furiously at some kind of control mechanism.

“What’s going on?” breathed Benson. He had backed away from the child, and pressed against the hatch he had entered. He could feel his pulse loud in his ears, and something else. His talent was sharpening, coming to the front in preparation. It was a reflexive, unconscious adjustment.  And again, it was exactly the wrong response.

“He’s jammed the locks,” said the figure. “They won’t open. He’s forcing them shut.”

Benson began breathing rapidly. He had spent hours psychologically preparing himself for this task, for the amount of self-control that was required, and it was all going wrong. He was trapped with the thing he feared more than anything else, though an ironic thought reminded him that being outside the room made him no less safe. His fear-drenched mind worked through possible responses, but all that came to his lips was, “How can he do that?! He shouldn’t have that kind of skill…”

The worst thing was, he could see that the figure who monitored him, a man sturdy under pressure and a trusted friend, was not even pretending to be in control of the situation, because that would be a notion of devastating inaccuracy.

“That’s just how strong he is. I can’t compete with him. The important thing is for you to not present yourself as a threat.”

Benson blanched. It didn’t want him to escape. It wouldn’t matter if even he started sucking his thumb. He was already marked as a threat.

“Please, Benson,” spoke his friend, quietly. “Don’t lose your head. There is a way out of this…we just have to find it.”

Benson wasn’t listening. He stared at the child in front of him, because as the figure attempted to console him, Lazerus’ eyes snapped open, and focused on him.

There was no more childlike glee. There was no innocence. They were not the eyes of a child anymore.

They were black, empty eyes. No pupil or iris, no white surrounds. His whole eye was black. A deep, dark black. It was like staring into a void, a great space of nothingness. The eyes of a cold, inhuman killer. They didn’t resemble any living creature. They resembled only death. But Benson had seen those eyes before, on footage. It was the sound their owner made that chilled him to his very core.

A long wheeze, a death-rattle, like the last gasp of a choking man. Like the reaper breathing the life out of someone, drawing with long, slow certainty. It didn’t stop, it wasn’t like a person breathing in, it just drew out and out, longer, as the eyes focused, hard and narrow, and the boy of eight bared his teeth, his face portraying an expression of psychotic rage. It moved slowly, predatorily, like a stalking cat. Benson was prey.

He always had been, since he had entered the room.

The skin around the boy’s eyes and mouth were rapidly turning grey, like the skin of a corpse. But there was nothing dead about It, as it began to rise off the bed, floating, it’s limbs remaining in an idle, slack posture. It was like an invisible force was pulling it up by the scruff of the neck. The head began to angle up slightly, so the eyes could focus on Benson, but the head remained tilted to the side in an undead kind of appearance. The teeth, exposed like a wild thing, were turning black rapidly.

“It’s…threatening me,” said Benson softly. His friend said nothing, and Benson knew why. He himself wondered what it would be like to watch his companion in the last moments of his life, anticipating the second that a part of you would be ripped apart, along with him. 

The probe was shaking in mid-flight. It no longer soared around the roo. It was like an invisible force grasped it, and squeezed. Without warning it shattered, the pieces littering around the room in a shower of sparks.

A minor annoyance extinguished. That was Lazerus’s style.

The Creature remained focused on Benson. It stared at him with it’s cold eyes, but it did not advance.

“Benson?”

“….Yeah, I’m here,”. Benson kept his eyes on the entity in front of him. Adrenalin kept his mind focused, and he was trying hard to keep his thoughts empty of any negativity. Thoughts were not secrets. Not to this thing.

Maybe it decided to toy, like it would have with the probe. Benson didn’t have time to consider what it was thinking, because suddenly, Benson felt the beast enter his mind.

He wasn’t prepared for the pain. All the training, all the preparation, the last chance for the experimental operation to succeed. It meant nothing. His thoughts vanished, and all that remained was complete and utter torture.

 He screamed in agony as it held him in its grasp, like a hand reaching into his skull and compressing his brain. His eyes told him that, visibly, the monster did not move or react in any way, it just stared intensely at its toy. He was nothing. All his life and effort would be swept away like dust. Benson was merely ashes in the wind.

But he fought to keep his thoughts under his control, his training in defence buried deeply in his subconscious. It wasn’t in his nature to quit. Something embedded deeply inside him forced him on, but it would mean nothing. It had him. It was going to kill him.

Benson was a dead man.

 

It was two minutes later. A security team had been dispatched, some with weapons, some with probes flashing around the room. The five of them entered and covered the sleeping boy, menacing looking firearms trained on his head. Benson was lying on the floor, face down, with blood seeping from his head.

A masked figure knelt down beside him. His probe followed, and trained on his fallen friend, scanning all of the figure.

“Well?”, asked one of the men with guns.

“He’s alive. Hurt badly, though. We need to get him to the infirmary.”

None of the other men spoke. They had seen this before. The problem wasn’t that their colleague was dead. The problem was that he probably wouldn’t ever wake up. Brain damaged. Vegetable. Permanently comatose.

He would probably be better off dead.

The team leader was silent, but stiffly nodded his head. They had to do all they could.

 “What happened? He shouldn’t be alive. The thing had him in its grasp. It…it was really tearing him up,” one of the others asked.

“Yeah, but I guess it didn’t feel like fighting him,” another hypothesized

“What about us? It should be all over us! You guys didn’t have to do anything at all to subdue it.”

The experimenter was solemn. “Benson is one of the best we have,” he said slowly. “If it wasn’t threatened by him enough to end his life, it isn’t threatened by any of us.”

He looked around the room at the security team. “That’s the only reason any of us are alive,” he said.

He looked at one of the team members, a young man fresh out of training. Eighteen years old. The youthful, defiant soldier stared at the sleeping boy, his rifle held steadily, and the experimenter knew what he was thinking.

“Go ahead, Rodus,” he said. “Shoot him, see what happens. We’re all going to die, anyway. Sooner or later.”

The young man turned to look at the experimenter, but no words were uttered. The man saw the youth’s serious eyes, but he knew he was unnerved.

No one spoke. No one had heard such morbid words spoken by their leader, a man known for his optimism. The operation was taking too great a toll on him.

“That’s our final allowable casualty,” said the experimenter. He neglected to mention that the casualty was his best friend. Everyone knew that.

“Options?” asked the security team leader.

The figure rubbed his eyes. “Only one,” he said, resignedly. It was the thing he feared most. “God help us…”

They looked at the boy on the bed. He slept on, a small smile on his face.

Reviews

[Tionge Rosalie Johnson]

This is some good detail here as well! The concept got me thinking and I love stories that get you to think. You also set the scene very effectively by putting in a lot of detail into the setting.

[Seth Exile]

Thanks heaps, Rosalie! It's nice to have some feedback. You strike me as experienced, as well, so that means a lot. Keep in touch. :)

[Tionge Rosalie Johnson]

will do :)