The Fierce Reads Anthology(37)

The four test subjects entered. They wore white medical scrubs. Short-sleeved. As Massey had requested.

Their hands were handcuffed but it wasn’t necessary for the demonstration.

Why were they cuffed? Why? Not because they were dangerous criminals who might escape at any moment—it was to trick the brass into thinking that the armed guard was there in case they tried to escape.

The armed guard, of course, was there to kill them in case the experiment spiraled out of control.

But Dr. Massey didn’t want to scare the brass into thinking that MORS was unsafe to even test, because she wanted them to fund it.

James felt anger rising in his chest. This would be the last time he would play the scene in his mind, he promised himself. Tomorrow he’d call the hypnotist from the commercial. His wife could scoff all she wanted. She hadn’t been there.

Against Cha in his suit and the guard in his suit, the marines looked very unprotected. Meek, even.

Well, not Gruin, the type O. He looked like Thor. A shaved-head Thor with SEMPER FI emblazoned on one arm.

Each subject wore their blood type in black paint stenciled on the chest of their medical scrubs. This was to aid the viewers in recognizing the effects of the compound.



The AB looked scared. The A looked scared. The B looked bemused.

B had short, reddish-brown hair. That color like an Irish setter. And freckles. Freckles on a full-grown man always made James feel sad, somehow. Like didn’t that guy know his childhood was over?

Dr. Cha turned and gave a thumbs up to the safety attendant in the containment annex. The attendant sealed and locked the door.

As the test subjects were brought in, General Montez stood up. He said that he recognized one of the test subjects. It was Private Michael Ceglowski (type B blood).



“That’s Ceglowski,” said the general. “I know that soldier.”

“General Montez?” asked Dr. Savic.

“He served under me in Iraq. He was a member of an escort and we were ambushed. We saw some action together. Is that him? That can’t be him!”

“Yes, sir,” I confirmed. “The subject is Private Ceglowski.”

“This can’t be right. He’s serving a life term in the stockade? That can’t be right.”

Dr. Massey turned to James with a hard glint in her eyes and a nod, willing him to do something. James pulled up B’s file on the tablet.

“He was involved with the Marshad incident, sir. Serving a life term with no parole.”

“Ceglowski?!” Montez looked dazed. He turned to his aide. “Darington, did we know about this?”

“No, sir.”

“I would have testified, for Christ’s sake. That man is no criminal. I don’t believe he was involved with Marshad. Not for one moment.”

Ceglowski certainly didn’t look like a spy. He looked like he should be running bases on a baseball field or planting corn or waving a firecracker or eating apple pie.

James recognized the strained smile on Massey’s face. It meant she wanted to murder someone. But this was a glitch no one could have anticipated, James thought to himself. No one could have imagined that one of the generals would know one of the convicts.

“What can be done about this?” Colonel Davidson turned to Savic and Massey.

“If I may, General Montez,” Dr. Massey said smoothly, “Private Ceglowski has type B blood. As you may remember from the presentation, of all the test subjects, he will suffer the least in this experiment.”

That was true. For the moment, anyway.

“Is that right?” Montez asked, scanning the cheat sheet James had prepared. “Yes. I see. It’s…fine. It just took me by surprise, to see someone who I know…”

“Of course,” Colonel Davidson tutted.

Dr. Savic turned to Massey and nodded. “Dr. Massey, please proceed.”

Montez sat down and looked through the glass, but his eyes were glazed over. James, Massey, all of them could see he was somewhere on a dusky back street, ducking sniper fire with Ceglowski at his side.

Ceglowski was very much living in the present, though.

He was standing at attention before a mirrored wall. He was under bright lights—every pore and follicle exposed—but the air was cool and crisp.

The subjects were asked to recline on the upright testing beds. Their handcuffs were removed by the guard. Dr. Cha then strapped them down. Each subject was bound with a strap across each foot and each hand, and a strap over the torso.



Then Dr. Massey addressed the test subjects over the intercom.



“Gentlemen, I want to thank you for your participation in this experiment today. Please rest assured that you will experience the effects of the compound for a very short amount of time. On behalf of the scientific community here at USAMRIID, I offer you my deepest thanks for your brave participation.”

James had to hand it to her—Massey was brilliant. These weren’t just empty theatrics—she was positioning herself as the spokesperson for the entire lab. Savic had better watch his back.

Dr. Cha then checked the function of his protective suit. The guard did the same. They each gave the thumbs up, indicating that their suits were airtight and functioning properly.



“Cut the air,” Massey directed James.

I pressed the button on my tablet that controlled the air circulation within the sealed test chamber. (For the sake of clarity—this is a sealed air system for the test room only. The button I pressed stopped the air movement inside the test chamber—t here was never the chance that the MORS could get out through the venting system to the rest of the lab.)