Lab Rat part 50

Posted: March 6, 2011 in Fiction, Test Subject

The lab is dark until I step in. Lights flicker on above me, and ceiling panels light in concentric circles radiating away from me. The fluorescence bathes the lab in white. There’s the hole in the Blast Room. It’s probably still full of fire foam. The lab is thick with the chemical tang. I go over to the empty workstation that usually holds my junk. I slide open the drawer and pull out a phone. I dig my phone out of my pocket and bring up Taryn’s cell number. I stab buttons on the lab’s phone. The ringing goes on for what seems like an eternity. The phone picks up, but I don’t hear anything.

“Doctor Allison,” I say.

“Asher.” My heart restarts. You’d think I was worried or something. “Why are you at the lab this early?”

“I was running tests pretty early this morning. Things have gotten kind of messy.” She’s quiet for a long time.

“How messy?”

“Uh, Agent Johnson and Keegan Parish messy.”

“You had better be kidding me.” I can’t tell if she’s mad. I know she doesn’t think I’m funny, but I’d really like to think she knows I have more sense than to make light of something like this.

“I have some pretty good practical data.” Hopefully that softens the blow a little. “Are you coming in today?”

“Yes.” She sighs heavily. “Stay there. Record your data. Set the computers to create a backup. I’m there in thirty.” She hangs up on me. Yeah. She’s mad. I go to the refrigerator that doesn’t have a lock and take a look. Nothing but health food. I grab an apple and a protein shake and tear into them as I plop down at a computer terminal. I log in and type furiously, recording everything I can think of about the corrosive blood, the telepathy, the use of the regeneration on the EMT, and the lightning knives. As soon as I get the report typed, I set the computer to create a backup. I fish out a blank hard-drive and link it to the servers. It won’t do the calculations, but it can store everything that’s already done.

Taryn’s still not here. I head over to equipment storage. I open the double doors and go in. There are racks of assorted electronics, scrubs, cleaning supplies… All manner of things. I wander a little deeper and I’m rewarded for my curiosity. Bulletproof vests. I grab one and head back to the lab proper. As I go, I shrug off my tattered shirt. I head past the workstations and the wreckage of the Blast room and into the exam room. I still have a bullet in my shoulder. I really just want to get out another regeneration cartridge, but I don’t want to burn through the supply. I have no idea how hard it is to make the stuff. What’s more, Taryn said that the energy has to come from somewhere. I’ll do conventional first aid for now. Besides, next time I have no choice but to use the injector, it’ll fix whatever I haven’t healed naturally anyway. I drop the vest on the gurney. I pick out a suture kit, a bottle of peroxide, some antibacterial goo, an analgesic, a scalpel and a pair of pliers. I’m sure there’s a medical word for them, but it escapes me.

I’m slowly pulling further ahead in the document. The posts are staying at the typical length even though I generally write much more. I’m bound and determined that for the week that I’m AFK that something worth reading still goes up.


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