leather seat at the head of the table.
Hunter clasped his hands together on top of the table. He reached toward a chair and, after the doctor nodded, sat in it, spine straight, shoulders back. Hunter resembled a robot, tall and stiff, his face devoid of emotion. "I found traces of his DNA within the wreckage."
"Did he die then?" A spark of hope flared within his chest. The whole incident was a disaster, one of epic proportions, but a surmountable one, especially if he had died. If not...
"Inconclusive. I found traces of hair, skin, blood, but no bones, no organs." The scientist spread his hands out.
The doctor's hands curled into tight fists. "So he could have mutated as well, is that what you're saying?"
Swallowing hard, Hunter nodded. "It's possible."
"Damn!" Dr. Richards swore.
Lewis had tried to shut down the plant on one other occasion, bringing his pet cat along for some unfathomable reason. His cat fell into a vat and turned into a monster. The security guard witnessed it on camera and notified the president. Dr. Richards offered to pay Lewis a lot of money to keep his mouth shut, but Lewis claimed the pet died. Dr. Richards didn't believe him and made it perfectly clear to Lewis if he ever told anyone of his monstrous cat, scientists all over the world would perform so many experiments on him, the cat would die. Lewis hadn't blinked an eye at the threat, which made the doctor wonder if the cat had actually perished. Shortly thereafter, once Dr. Richards was certain Lewis would not turn to the media, he fired him.
"What do you want me to do now?" Hunter asked.
"Run more tests. Bring me proof of his death, or his survival."
The thin scarecrow of a scientist nodded and left the room.
Dr. Richards sank into his plush leather seat. Despite the soft cushions, he couldn't relax. He felt cold, as if his sport coat was made of ice. The image of the small cat transforming into a massive ferocious feline haunted him day and night. If a human transformed, what kind of monster would result?
Chapter Nineteen
He waited until twilight. The less sunlight the better. Thus far, it was the only thing that pained him, burning his eyes until he thought they would melt. Reminded him too much of the chemical burns that had stripped him of his skin and muscles. A memory he tried to ignore. The future was all that mattered now, not how he had gotten to this point.
He stalked down the streets. Most houses were dark. Some still burned with one or two lights. Falledge was a lazy town filled with lazy people. The few ambitious ones worked for Big Don.
How he hated Big Don! Almost as much as his father. Damn them both to Hell.
For all he knew, his father was already there.
Big Don wasn't his target tonight. Not yet. He had a plan to implement, one that would have Big Don craving the sweet release of death. Big Don would beg on his knees.
He rubbed his hands together and grinned as much as his lipless mouth would allow.
Toward the end of town, he approached his destination, a rundown apartment complex with burgundy paint peeling away in splotches. The place had deteriorated over the years, almost as worthless as the lowlifes who lived within its crumbling walls.
He entered through the back door. The elevators were out of service, not a surprise, and he took the stairs four at a time to reach the sixth floor. He adjusted his hat so it covered most of his face and opened the door.
He was glad to lack a nose. Two overflowing garbage cans stood across from him, five dirty diapers on top, one on the floor with crap beside it, next to a half eaten apple. Flies swarmed the disaster.
He turned to the left and stalked toward room 632. Not bothering to knock, he reached for the handle. Locked.
"Who's there?" a voice called from inside.
He grinned again. Good. His prey was home.
"Don't worry about it, they'll go away," a female voice said.
He snapped off the doorknob with no effort, and the door swung open.
"What the--"
"Hiya, Davey
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