squeezing down on the pain, an instinctual response.
“What did you do?” Disbelief pouring out of him like all the blood.
He backed up, blood splattering the tile while he reached for the door. He hit the door-open button as the creature eyed him from acrouch, gray eyes slitted. Its muzzle slid away from its teeth as its face contorted in rage.
Silas took a step back through the opening door, and the creature bolted, crossing the room in springing strides. Silas jerked himself backward, slipping on his own blood, falling through the open doorway. He hit the ground on his shoulder and kicked at the door, trying to shut it. The creature launched itself forward and slammed into the bloody glass a moment after the door clicked shut.
There was a meaty thump, and the gladiator dropped to the ground.
Silas rolled away from the door. Away from the staring, slitted eyes on the other side of the glass.
He pulled himself to his feet, grabbing at the edge of the lab bench to steady himself. Only then did Silas look at the wound.
Only then did he see the missing finger.
On his right hand, his pinkie finger terminated just above the second knuckle.
H OSPITALS . S ILAS had always hated them.
The surgery took a little more than an hour.
“We need to shorten the bone,” the doctor had said.
To Silas, this seemed counterintuitive, but a series of nurses assured him it was necessary so that skin could be pulled over the wound.
“It’s too bad you couldn’t find the finger,” one of them said.
“Oh, I know where it is.”
A finger. Not a pound of flesh, exactly. But it was something. It felt like payment.
They pumped him full of IV antibiotics. Then tetanus shots. Rabies shots were suggested when it was learned an animal bite was involved.
Silas explained to the new doctor at shift change that the animal in question wasn’t going to be available for brain tissue dissection. “Honestly, it’s worth more than I am. They might want to dissect my brain to make sure I didn’t give it something.”
The next morning, the calls started at nine A.M . The visits soon afterthat. Tay, the trainer, showed up, accompanied by several members of the team. After the condolences, “It’s time to shift gears on this,” he said.
Silas agreed.
“Past time,” Tay said. “We’ve officially transited the natal phase of the program. The training phase begins tomorrow.”
“I’m really sorry about this,” Tay said. “If I had any idea that it might be so aggressive so young …”
Silas shrugged as best he could while sitting in the hospital bed. “You did say it was a good thing that the gladiator associated humans with the arrival of food.”
Tay cringed.
Silas smiled. “Things happen.”
“You say that now. We’ll see if you’re casual when the drugs wear off.”
When Tay left, Silas made several calls to Benjamin, who was already on his way and had to reroute back to the lab. He showed up at the hospital a few hours later, arms laden.
Benjamin laid the requested papers on Silas’s hospital bed and collapsed into a nearby chair.
“That bad?” Silas asked, reading Ben’s expression.
“A bust,” Benjamin said.
“Complete?”
“Not a single match.”
“Damn.” Silas leafed quickly through the pile of papers that represented nearly two weeks’ work for his head cytologist. The DNA fingerprinting hadn’t turned up a single template match to any of the known existing orders of animals.
“Are you okay?” Ben asked. “You in a lot of pain?”
“Let’s not worry about me at the moment. Let’s worry about the project.”
“Well, I’m out of ideas,” Benjamin said.
Silas leaned back in his bed. He was out of ideas, too. He laced hisremaining fingers behind his head and casually considered his friend. His hand throbbed.
Ben was one of those rare individuals, usually of Scandinavian extraction, afflicted with skin so profoundly devoid of melanin that the underlying blood vessels provided a kind
“What did you do?” Disbelief pouring out of him like all the blood.
He backed up, blood splattering the tile while he reached for the door. He hit the door-open button as the creature eyed him from acrouch, gray eyes slitted. Its muzzle slid away from its teeth as its face contorted in rage.
Silas took a step back through the opening door, and the creature bolted, crossing the room in springing strides. Silas jerked himself backward, slipping on his own blood, falling through the open doorway. He hit the ground on his shoulder and kicked at the door, trying to shut it. The creature launched itself forward and slammed into the bloody glass a moment after the door clicked shut.
There was a meaty thump, and the gladiator dropped to the ground.
Silas rolled away from the door. Away from the staring, slitted eyes on the other side of the glass.
He pulled himself to his feet, grabbing at the edge of the lab bench to steady himself. Only then did Silas look at the wound.
Only then did he see the missing finger.
On his right hand, his pinkie finger terminated just above the second knuckle.
H OSPITALS . S ILAS had always hated them.
The surgery took a little more than an hour.
“We need to shorten the bone,” the doctor had said.
To Silas, this seemed counterintuitive, but a series of nurses assured him it was necessary so that skin could be pulled over the wound.
“It’s too bad you couldn’t find the finger,” one of them said.
“Oh, I know where it is.”
A finger. Not a pound of flesh, exactly. But it was something. It felt like payment.
They pumped him full of IV antibiotics. Then tetanus shots. Rabies shots were suggested when it was learned an animal bite was involved.
Silas explained to the new doctor at shift change that the animal in question wasn’t going to be available for brain tissue dissection. “Honestly, it’s worth more than I am. They might want to dissect my brain to make sure I didn’t give it something.”
The next morning, the calls started at nine A.M . The visits soon afterthat. Tay, the trainer, showed up, accompanied by several members of the team. After the condolences, “It’s time to shift gears on this,” he said.
Silas agreed.
“Past time,” Tay said. “We’ve officially transited the natal phase of the program. The training phase begins tomorrow.”
“I’m really sorry about this,” Tay said. “If I had any idea that it might be so aggressive so young …”
Silas shrugged as best he could while sitting in the hospital bed. “You did say it was a good thing that the gladiator associated humans with the arrival of food.”
Tay cringed.
Silas smiled. “Things happen.”
“You say that now. We’ll see if you’re casual when the drugs wear off.”
When Tay left, Silas made several calls to Benjamin, who was already on his way and had to reroute back to the lab. He showed up at the hospital a few hours later, arms laden.
Benjamin laid the requested papers on Silas’s hospital bed and collapsed into a nearby chair.
“That bad?” Silas asked, reading Ben’s expression.
“A bust,” Benjamin said.
“Complete?”
“Not a single match.”
“Damn.” Silas leafed quickly through the pile of papers that represented nearly two weeks’ work for his head cytologist. The DNA fingerprinting hadn’t turned up a single template match to any of the known existing orders of animals.
“Are you okay?” Ben asked. “You in a lot of pain?”
“Let’s not worry about me at the moment. Let’s worry about the project.”
“Well, I’m out of ideas,” Benjamin said.
Silas leaned back in his bed. He was out of ideas, too. He laced hisremaining fingers behind his head and casually considered his friend. His hand throbbed.
Ben was one of those rare individuals, usually of Scandinavian extraction, afflicted with skin so profoundly devoid of melanin that the underlying blood vessels provided a kind
Similar Books
