Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 80431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Oakley took in the woman’s worried expression as his heart rate tripled. He’d been taken from wherever and was being experimented on, but the rest of the conversation was going over his head.
He didn’t know who he was, but he was positive he wouldn’t have agreed to anything like this. Not even for a million dollars.
An Asian man put his hands up between the four of them and spoke in a calm but insistent tone. “Director Madison, even if Dr. Calhoun’s serums are given in lower dosages, there’s a limit to the amount of another species’ genetics you can force into the human system before a psychosocial collapse becomes unavoidable.”
“Precisely,” the lady added.
The man continued his explanation. “The last human hybrid I worked on showed considerable identity dissolution after several months of consistent treatment. I know these soldiers are remarkably strong, but their cognition will continue to shift and their neural pathways will rewire in ways we may not be able to control after long.”
Oakley was trying to decipher the scientific jargon, but whatever medicine he was on made it too difficult.
“Dr. Pheung, I hear your concerns, but you will follow my directions. Double the dosages and frequency. Our country is in peril, and we need heroes now…not in five years. All I demand is that you do the jobs you were recruited for—and paid generously for, by the way—and submit your results to my office every hour.”
Oakley’s eyelids were getting heavy, but he heard footsteps and the rustling of fabric.
The man who asked to be called Hank grinned. “Unless you want to give back the two-point-two-million-dollar advance you were paid so your wife could receive the groundbreaking medical treatments for her stage four cancer.”
“Doubling! You’ve gone mad. Shame on you, Director Madison!” Dr. Calhoun’s outrage was becoming too much.
Please, stop! Stop yelling! Oakley thought he was going to throw up from the sensory overload.
“I am done trying to explain morality and obligation to you. When I leave, my first stop will be to the Department of Human Services, and next to the military base, where I will stay until I’ve spoken directly with their commander, who I’m sure will immediately storm in and shut down this entire operation.”
Oakley squeezed his eyes shut a second after the assistant director pulled a black handgun from his waistband and fired three shots into the raging doctor’s back before he could clear the threshold of the room.
Screams and shouts reverberated and ricocheted off the walls until they slammed into his brain.
The unforgiving sounds of the gunshots and the cries of fear overwhelmed him. His pulse stuttered in a desperate rhythm as the shockwaves from the shots shook his bones.
He tensed all over, his fight-or-flight kicking into full gear, but he couldn’t run. So he did the only thing he could and released a vicious growl into the room that made the remaining abductors spin around.
“Fuck, he’s awake!” someone hollered. “How is he awake? That shouldn’t be possible.”
Oakley wanted to slam his hands over his ears, but something tight and thick was secured around his wrists.
“It doesn’t matter how, just put him back under, hurry!” the assistant director barked.
No, no, no. I want out!
A sharp prick pierced the sensitive skin in the crook of Oakley’s right arm.
Slowly, his body began to feel as if it were sinking into the surface he was lying on, and once again, the world faded into a dull blur, and the few memories he’d attempted to conjure dissolved like smoke.
The last utterance he heard was the frightening threat of the man who’d just murdered someone in cold blood.
“Let what happened to Dr. Calhoun be a cruel but definite lesson. No one gets out. You will do your jobs…or else.”
Chief Styles Sawyer
There it was again.
The low growl echoing from somewhere in the building. It didn’t emanate fear. It was mournful, like the calling of an animal for its lost mate.
His chest was tight and his heartbeat wildly from the recent dose of whatever the fuck they were pumping into his bloodstream. It made his skin burn like fire, and the pulsing in his veins sent adrenaline flowing hot and fast.
He felt strong but restless and dark.
He should’ve been fatigued because he hadn’t eaten in weeks—he was unsure exactly how many—but he had a feeling it’d been quite a while. He must be getting fed through one of the many tubes inserted into his side.
Sawyer had no clue what the complex machinery surrounding the uncomfortable slab of metal he was bound to was, but it was well out of reach. The machines whirred and beeped day and night, a constant reminder of his inescapable dilemma.
Sawyer wanted to get up, to move. He’d been lying for too long and feeling trapped in a body that wasn’t his. Over time, he’d deduced he was captive. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be strapped down.