Bad Blood (Mayhem Manuscripts Season One: 1nf3ction)

Prologue

Dr. Frederick Owens

“Grab his fucking legs!”

“I’m trying, he’s too—”

“Stop moving!” I shouted, forcefully shoving his legs down onto the table as he growled and snarled and bucked in Strauss’s hold. “Jones! Get the goddamn straps!”

Jones, a pathetic excuse for a scientist, grabbed the leather straps on either side of the table and buckled them over the subject’s legs.

“Tighter,” I ordered.

He glanced at the subject, as if looking to see if he was hurting him, and the rage in my chest burned hotter. I shoved Jones out of the way and yanked hard on the strap until the subject made a wounded sound and wasn’t able to move his legs anymore.

“Like that,” I spat at Jones. “That fucking tight. Get the fuck out of here, go clean the urinals. I don’t wanna even look at your fucking face.”

“Y-yes, sir,” he stuttered, turning and racing from the room. That probably felt more like a reward than a punishment to him.

“He got me fucking good this time.”

I glanced over at Strauss, who was washing his forearm in the sink.

The water turned a dark pink as he washed the blood away.

When I looked back at the subject, his eyes were locked on me and blazing with a fury that promised to sear itself into my skin if I got too close.

His chest heaved as he lay there strapped to the operating table, those freaky eyes unblinking as he glared at me.

He didn’t say a word, though. I didn’t know if he could even talk. All he did was growl and snarl and scream like a goddamn animal.

We’d gotten him from another lab when he was seven, and he was a lot more docile back then.

Seemed four years in an underground lab had taken its toll.

He didn’t care that he was helping find a cure.

He didn’t care that his sacrifice was for the greater good.

Even if I explained it to him, I doubted he’d understand.

He was just a dumb animal, only good for his blood.

“He’s getting too fucking wild. And look at him, he’s tiny!

How the fuck is he so strong? I can’t keep doing this.

It’s not worth it. It’s time to get rid of him.

” Strauss hissed as he dumped alcohol on the bite.

“He took a chunk clear out of me. Why the fuck did you take the muzzle off? Put it on and leave it on.”

I leaned against the counter behind me and crossed my ankles. “He had to eat. That shit won’t fit through the muzzle.”

Strauss sighed as he yanked open the cabinet above him, rifling through medical supplies until he pulled out a bandage. “Those guys from the prison are here again,” he said. “We could give him to them, along with some rations. They only take carriers anyway. I bet Dr. Drake won’t even notice.”

Oh, he would fucking notice, but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted this little fucker gone as much as Strauss did. “Alright. What do they got?”

“Some fruit. Some ammunition. Tons of moonshine.”

I rubbed my chin, considering the trade. “Not bad. Okay, let’s get him ready.”

“You muzzle him, I’m not going near that filthy mouth again.

I might be immune, but not to those nasty fucking germs he’s probably carrying in there.

I mean, shit, he probably has rabies.” Strauss stomped over to the far wall and opened a cabinet, reaching in and pulling out a small bottle of liquor.

He pulled the stopper out with his teeth, then chugged a quarter of the bottle.

Goddammit. This motherfucker had hidden a bottle of shine in here? That sneaky piece of shit.

“Ah, fuck. The shit they make is so good. I’d trade fifty of these fuckers for even one bottle.”

Yeah, so would I.

I pushed off the counter and bent down to grab the muzzle where I’d dropped it earlier, then strode over to the vicious little animal that was still glaring at me.

I wanted to get him out of here before those two brothers left. They were notoriously unpredictable, but they always had good shit, which was why they were allowed inside the lab. Nine times out of ten, they didn’t cause any trouble and the trades went smoothly.

“Be good or I’ll knock you out.” Subject 3X4V2 kept his eyes on mine, and the only indication he was getting upset was his small chest moving faster.

Good. He could asphyxiate for all I cared.

I shoved the muzzle onto his face before he could react, holding his head still with that hand while grabbing the straps and bringing them around the back. When I had both cinched tight enough to keep him still, I buckled it as tight as it would go.

It still wasn’t enough.

“Where’s the lock?” I asked, turning toward Strauss.

His eyes were already red-rimmed, and he had a goofy smile on his face. “The what now?”

“The lock! You had it last, dipshit!”

He laughed and reached into his pocket, pulling out the small metal padlock and dangling it from his fingers. “This lock?”

“You’re so fucking annoying, you know that? I’m not in the mood for your drunk ass.” I stormed over to him, snatched the lock from his fingers, and headed back to the operating table.

Subject 3X4V2 still had his head turned to the side, and he was making small whimpering sounds. I snapped the padlock into place and shoved his head. “Try and bite me now, you little shit.”

When he turned his head and looked at me, there was so much loathing in his eyes that it made me pause. The violence in them, the way he obviously wanted to rip my throat out, the intensity of his hatred…

And then I noticed the tears welling in his eyes and spilling from the corners down into his hair. He was still making those soft whimpering sounds, like he couldn’t even help it. And he looked—

I shook my head. Who gave a shit?

His cheeks were already red around the edges of the muzzle. I trailed my eyes down his body, studying the thin shirt and thin pants.

It was winter right now. Maybe I should get him some—

“Let’s fucking go, I wanna do this and get some dinner.” Strauss bumped my shoulder, and I wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or he was just drunk.

I grabbed the edge of the gurney with Strauss and we rolled it toward the swinging doors. The lights flickered on above us as we slammed through the door and made our way down the hall.

Even six decades after the end of the world, this place was still in working order.

There were a lot of underground facilities like these sprinkled around the country.

Like the powers that be had anticipated something like this happening, like they knew just what to prepare for.

Like maybe the story that the lab leak was an accident was a lie.

Maybe it wasn’t an accident at all. Someone back then had wanted a highly contagious virus to get into the atmosphere and taint the world’s water. Someone had wanted civilization to collapse, wanted billions to die, and millions more turned into flesh-starved monsters.

Someone had wanted this Hell on Earth where the rain was red as blood and a death sentence for anyone that wasn’t immune or a carrier.

Or it really was just an accident. I’d never know.

We rolled the subject down the hall while he snarled and growled behind the muzzle, fruitlessly writhing against the straps.

He was back to his old self, it seemed.

That was fine, he could try to fight it all he wanted, he’d just tire himself out and then maybe be a bit less hostile when we presented him to the brothers.

They’d probably still take him even if they knew how unmanageable he was. They might be immune, but they were fucking crazy.

You couldn’t be here if you didn’t have immunity. And if you were a carrier of the virus we were trying to cure, you stopped being a person and became a subject.

Most of the subjects here didn’t give us trouble, but 3X4V2 was a goddamn headache that just kept getting worse, and I was so happy to be rid of him.

When we got to the bay elevators, Strauss smashed his fist into the keypad.

“What—don’t fucking break it, dumbass!”

I shoved him out of the way and typed in my identifying numbers. A ding sounded, and the elevator started whirring as it made its way down to us.

Strauss groaned. “Fuck, man, I think I drank too much too fast. You got any water?”

I raked a hand through my hair, my irritation with Strauss coming through in my biting tone. “No, I don’t have any water. It’s where it usually is, and if you didn’t bring your own canteen, that’s your fault. You can’t have any of mine. Just wait ten minutes, you’ll be fine.”

“I gotta piss now, too.” He grabbed his crotch and glanced down the hall toward the bathroom.

“No. It’s almost here, just wait until we get up there.”

It was like dealing with a fucking child. Strauss was fine when he wasn’t drunk, but a single drop of that moonshine shit and he was a completely different person. It was exhausting.

The elevator dinged.

I stared right at Strauss as the doors slid open, ready to run and grab him if he decided to fuck around.

“Yeah, but I—”

When his head exploded, I fell back onto my ass with a scream.

Hunter and Hayes stepped off the elevator, sweeping the hall with their rifles. When they both turned their guns on me, I put my hands up. “No, wait! I can—”

Pop.