baby. He thought finding the donor would be hard, but Zero was Female, and by God, she’d left her real name and address on the donor information card.
Haley Night.
Occupation, CFKR Agent.
Fuckin’-A
The same Female Kin he’d been trying to get moved to the Military branch since it opened.
Now it was as if God himself had gift wrapped the wyrm and put her on his doorstep. There was no doubt in his mind creating the virus was providence.
Dobson entered the observatory, and anyone who wasn’t busy made like they were. Richards barked orders to other white coats and the air filled with a lot of yes-sirs and no-sirs. The viewing room emptied as the colonel went in. He didn’t have to tell them to leave. They all knew the rules. The external windows dimmed as if on cue. Dobson refused to hesitate, in spite of the revulsion squeezing at his throat.
He always made himself look at it.
Every day.
Looking at it reminded him what this was all for.
There was a small framed picture of “William-before” sitting on the ledge. He was in his gold and white jersey with the indigo number seven on the front. In the picture he was smiling, his blue eyes bright, his skin flushed from practice.
Dobson touched the photo and imagined his son graduating, going to college, entering the military, making him proud. But that’s what every parent did when they lose a child. They imagine what things would have been like.
It took everything Dobson had to peel his eyes off the photo and look at the thing in the room below. It was thin because they couldn’t get it to eat anymore. Its pale white scales were peeling and its once bright yellow eyes had gone cloudy.
Dobson knew it was dying but he didn’t care. Richards had suggested they dispose of it years ago because they had more than enough samples and there was no need to keep it here. Feeding it. Cleaning up after it.
Getting rid of it would have been easy.
It was keeping it that was hard.
And Dobson was a firm believer the hardest things in life were what made a man.
Colonel Dobson put a finger on the intercom button and clicked it on. The sound of its sandpaper breathing filled the viewing room.
“Good afternoon, William.” His voice was steady today. That was a good sign. The thing below craned its misshapen head and tried to look up at him. Its mouth parted and nostrils flared. He could hear it inhaling, trying to scent him out.
In one lumbering step, it shifted its weight and moved towards the observatory window. The head came up a little higher and turned so its better eye was tilted upward.
Dobson had seen a lot of horrible things in battle, men blown apart, men eaten alive, but compared to this, all that was a Hallmark card. Looking at the thing that had once been his son did something to Dobson’s insides. It showed him weakness he’d never known he had.
But he was fine.
Doing great.
Till it uttered a single word from its jagged mouth.
“Daaaaddeeeee...”
Chapter 8
Haley headed home a little after seven and hailed a cab. She considered walking until the sky rumbled and spit out fat drops of rain here and there. The cabbie got her home in less than ten minutes. She was heading up the steps into the foyer of her building when the sky split and dumped everything it had.
The Browning Building didn’t look anything like its name suggested. The wide, fat square, with its white stucco walls, looked like a cross between 1960’s architectural art and a La Quinta Inn. It was ugly, and home to mostly retired couples, but it was clean and rat free.
Which was more than she could say for Farley’s place near the Dens.
The elevator came to a stop and dinged. Haley headed up the hallway. Beautiful Deshi sat on the edge of a large clay flower pot next to Haley’s door, picking at the skeletal remains of the petunias she’d neglected to death. He was dressed in a light brown Baroni, looking every bit of the Prince he was.
But then, with his looks, he could have
Haley Night.
Occupation, CFKR Agent.
Fuckin’-A
The same Female Kin he’d been trying to get moved to the Military branch since it opened.
Now it was as if God himself had gift wrapped the wyrm and put her on his doorstep. There was no doubt in his mind creating the virus was providence.
Dobson entered the observatory, and anyone who wasn’t busy made like they were. Richards barked orders to other white coats and the air filled with a lot of yes-sirs and no-sirs. The viewing room emptied as the colonel went in. He didn’t have to tell them to leave. They all knew the rules. The external windows dimmed as if on cue. Dobson refused to hesitate, in spite of the revulsion squeezing at his throat.
He always made himself look at it.
Every day.
Looking at it reminded him what this was all for.
There was a small framed picture of “William-before” sitting on the ledge. He was in his gold and white jersey with the indigo number seven on the front. In the picture he was smiling, his blue eyes bright, his skin flushed from practice.
Dobson touched the photo and imagined his son graduating, going to college, entering the military, making him proud. But that’s what every parent did when they lose a child. They imagine what things would have been like.
It took everything Dobson had to peel his eyes off the photo and look at the thing in the room below. It was thin because they couldn’t get it to eat anymore. Its pale white scales were peeling and its once bright yellow eyes had gone cloudy.
Dobson knew it was dying but he didn’t care. Richards had suggested they dispose of it years ago because they had more than enough samples and there was no need to keep it here. Feeding it. Cleaning up after it.
Getting rid of it would have been easy.
It was keeping it that was hard.
And Dobson was a firm believer the hardest things in life were what made a man.
Colonel Dobson put a finger on the intercom button and clicked it on. The sound of its sandpaper breathing filled the viewing room.
“Good afternoon, William.” His voice was steady today. That was a good sign. The thing below craned its misshapen head and tried to look up at him. Its mouth parted and nostrils flared. He could hear it inhaling, trying to scent him out.
In one lumbering step, it shifted its weight and moved towards the observatory window. The head came up a little higher and turned so its better eye was tilted upward.
Dobson had seen a lot of horrible things in battle, men blown apart, men eaten alive, but compared to this, all that was a Hallmark card. Looking at the thing that had once been his son did something to Dobson’s insides. It showed him weakness he’d never known he had.
But he was fine.
Doing great.
Till it uttered a single word from its jagged mouth.
“Daaaaddeeeee...”
Chapter 8
Haley headed home a little after seven and hailed a cab. She considered walking until the sky rumbled and spit out fat drops of rain here and there. The cabbie got her home in less than ten minutes. She was heading up the steps into the foyer of her building when the sky split and dumped everything it had.
The Browning Building didn’t look anything like its name suggested. The wide, fat square, with its white stucco walls, looked like a cross between 1960’s architectural art and a La Quinta Inn. It was ugly, and home to mostly retired couples, but it was clean and rat free.
Which was more than she could say for Farley’s place near the Dens.
The elevator came to a stop and dinged. Haley headed up the hallway. Beautiful Deshi sat on the edge of a large clay flower pot next to Haley’s door, picking at the skeletal remains of the petunias she’d neglected to death. He was dressed in a light brown Baroni, looking every bit of the Prince he was.
But then, with his looks, he could have
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