Chapter 17
“Whatever this new Idaho group is, we need to end it quickly. They have members who worked in intelligence, the military, and law enforcement in old America. We need to show them they chose the wrong side.” - Excerpt from a message from New America President Soren Whitman to his top advisers
Six Years Ago
Marcus
The lab is quiet when I walk in, several people gathered around Ellison James’s desk.
When I glance over at the oncology nurse practitioner on our team, she’s holding something against her face.
“I’m fine,” she says, the words muffled by whatever’s in her hand.
Yeva, sitting on the edge of Ellison’s desk, drops her brows in concern and says, “Her face got hit.”
I walk over to them, anger tightening my chest. Ellison is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. “Who hit you?”
“Test Subject Two.” She’s talking like she has cotton in her mouth, and when she pulls the bag of ice away, I see why. She has a badly swollen lip, a black eye, and blood on her face.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” another team member, Mariah Kennedy, says.
Ellison shakes her head and says, “I’m fine, really.”
“Why did he hit you?” I ask.
“No idea. I was checking the test subjects and he grabbed my breast. When I told him to stop, he hit me.”
“What the hell? Were you alone in there?”
She shrugs, saying, “Why wouldn’t I be?” though it comes out, “Wha wooden I be?”
Our experiments have shown so much promise that we’re fast-tracking human trials. Our test subjects are being paid a lot of money, and they all had to sign nondisclosure agreements. None of them has any idea what they got injected with, or what we expect it to do to them.
I wasn’t given that information either, but one of the test subjects told me he’d let us shoot him up with more mysterious substances for another two hundred thousand dollars. I questioned him about it and found out none of our fifteen human test subjects know anything about aromium.
Dr. McClain took a team to a string of islands near the Bahamas to pull extracts from plants, and we got good results with a flower extract from one. The compound we created, aromium, is the same bright blue as the flower.
“Maybe Test Subject Two is just a douchebag,” Mariah says, shrugging.
“What about yesterday, though?” Dr. P asks from nearby.
Two female test subjects got into a fight over nothing yesterday. We observe the test subjects around the clock, and at one thirty a.m., one of the women jumped another woman who was returning to bed after using the bathroom.
They’re both in medical isolation now—one with a broken wrist and a concussion, the other one with internal bleeding that required surgery.
These people were vetted thoroughly. Our psychological evaluations were designed to weed out people who were unstable in any way.
“It’s not a coincidence, you guys,” Dr. P says when no one answers his question. “We observed increased agitation, aggression, and sexual urges in the rats. And now we’re seeing those same things in the humans.”
“Seeing what things?” Dr. Lucy Hollis walks into the lab carrying a tray of baked goods, which is a regular occurrence for her.
“Test Subject Two assaulted Ellison,” Dr. P says.
Lucy looks at Ellison, her jaw dropping. She sets down the tray and rushes over.
“Ellison! Are you alright?”
“I’m good,” Ellison says, moving the bag of ice away from her mouth.
“You are most certainly not good,” Lucy says. “Has anyone called the police?”
After a few seconds of silence, Dr. P says, “We can’t. No one’s allowed in here but us.”
“This is a crime,” Lucy says. “Has anyone spoken to Randall?”
“He knows,” Yeva says.
“Is he on his way?” Lucy asks.
“He’s in DC briefing the bills on our progress,” Dr. P says, referring to our name for the billionaires funding our research. “He won’t be back until tomorrow.”
Lucy lowers her brows, unsatisfied with that answer. “Has anyone made an incident report?”
“I did,” Ellison says.
“Tell me what happened,” Lucy says.
Ellison relays the same thing she told me, Lucy’s expression hardening when she hears it.
“I didn’t think one incident of heightened aggression was a coincidence, but two? We have to shut down human trials immediately.”
“I agree,” Dr. P says.
“We’re filing a police report and getting Ellison checked out at the hospital,” Lucy announces. “I’ll take her myself. Someone get Randall on the phone so we can all get on the same page.”
Mariah uses her phone to FaceTime McClain, who answers the call looking like we woke him up in his hotel room bed. When she relays what’s going on, McClain puts his glasses on and sits up on the edge of the bed.
“Okay, sorry. We were wining and dining senators until the early hours. I’m awake now. Ellison already texted me about this.”
“Have you seen her face?” Lucy asks.
Mariah moves the camera to Ellison, who smiles weakly.
“Oh, Ellison.” McClain sighs. “Are you okay?”
“I’m taking her to the hospital,” Lucy says before Ellison can answer. “She could have a facial fracture.”
“No, you can’t do that,” McClain says. “I’ll arrange for her to see someone, but not at a hospital.”
Lucy is clearly unhappy with that idea. “She needs a CT scan. That requires a hospital. I know pausing the human trials isn’t what any of us planned, but—”
“No,” McClain interjects. “We aren’t pausing anything. We just cleared a major hurdle to secure government backing.”
“In two days, we’ve seen increased agitation, aggression, and sexual urges,” Dr. P says. “In three different human subjects. This is what happened with the rats.”
“Three of fifteen,” McClain says. “That’s only twenty percent.”
“Only twenty percent?” Lucy balks. “That’s one in five. We can’t move forward with this compound. We have to create one without the negative side effects.”
McClain furrows his brow. “That could take years. We don’t have years.”
“This isn’t right, and every one of us knows it,” Lucy says. “I won’t be part of this. It’s not just data manipulation, which is unethical. These people could suffer worse side effects. They could die. There’s no amount of money that makes up for that.”
I’m out of my element here. I don’t dare speak because it’s not my place.
“Calm down, Lucy,” McClain says. “We can discuss this when I get back.”
“Don’t treat me like some overexcited woman you can placate.” Her hazel eyes blaze with anger. “This is bad science. I was against fast-tracking human trials, and now I know I was right.”
McClain sighs heavily. “Everyone, just take a breath. Until I get back, no one goes into the room with the test subjects. Pass their food through the windows.”
Yeva looks like I feel—stunned. We were all so hyped about what we’ve accomplished so far, and now it’s all blowing up.
“Ellison, come on,” Lucy says, putting her arm out. “Let’s go to the hospital.”
“You can’t do this,” McClain says. “There are agreements in place.”
“I’m not violating my NDA by getting her medical care,” Lucy says.
“You also mentioned the police.”
“She was assaulted! He grabbed her breast and punched her. She’s not a lab rat, Randall, she’s a human being, and this isn’t right.”
McClain rubs his temple. “Everyone, just stay there. I’ll catch the soonest flight out I can get.”
He ends the call and we all look around at each other.
“I’m not waiting,” Lucy says. “Ellison?”
Ellison looks at the floor and then at Lucy. “I’ll wait for Dr. McClain.”
Lucy’s lips part with surprise. She looks at Yeva, who shrugs.
“I stay or go back to Russia,” she says.
“Mariah? Pyo?”
Mariah and Dr. P both shake their heads.
“I’m not saying I’ll stay, but I’ll hear what McClain has to say,” Dr. P says.
Lucy turns to me. “Marcus, don’t let yourself be led down this path. You have your whole career in front of you.”
I know her ethical concerns are valid, but Dr. McClain believed in me enough to bring me onto this team; I’m not turning my back on him.
“I’m staying,” I say.
Her expression turns sad. “I’m sorry, but I have to remove myself from this. I truly wish you all the best with it.”
She picks up her tray of baked goods and her bag, heading for the door. Before she gets there, two guards walk into the lab.
“Dr. Lucy Hollis?” one of them asks.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“You need to come with us.”
“Why?”
He takes her by the arm. “Just come with us, ma’am.”
They walk out of the lab, a chill passing through me.
“What the hell was that?” Dr. P asks.
No one responds.