Chapter 34 Dimitri
DIMITRI
The syringe collapsed under Dimitri's fingers, and as he cursed and dropped it, it shattered into pieces on the lab floor.
For a long moment, he stared at his bloodied fingers, then got up, walked over to the sink, rinsed them under running water, and then washed them with soap.
Hopefully, none of the chemicals had entered his bloodstream.
He had no idea what those drugs could do to a human, and he didn't want to find out.
What he and Petrov were making bordered on alchemy.
Some of it was based on the late Dr. Zhao's work, some of it was what they had developed in Russia, and the rest was what they were developing in Navuh's lab, tweaking and improving the formula until they were ready to use it on a new batch of soldiers.
The tube must have been defective because it had never happened to him before. He hadn't been holding it with enough force to break it.
Taking a couple of Band-Aids from the medical kit, he wrapped them around the injured fingers and returned to his worktable.
He'd been preparing the eight doses of enhancement drug that Dave would need when he arrived for his afternoon injections.
It was delicate work, requiring precise measurements and careful calibration.
Despite Dave's shared consciousness, each of his eight bodies was different—different weights, different metabolisms, and different responses to the chemical compounds.
A dose that worked perfectly for one might send another spiraling toward psychosis.
Dr. Zhao had learned that lesson the hard way, watching other enhanced immortals lose their minds to the drugs. Thankfully, he had left detailed notes that Petrov and Dimitri had learned a lot from.
The key was balance. They needed to provide just enough to marginally improve performance without tipping the scales toward madness.
Dimitri labeled each syringe with the corresponding body number, double-checking the dosages against his notes.
Body One was the leader, who did most of the talking.
Body Two was slightly heavier and required a stronger concentration.
Body Three was the most sensitive to stimulants and needed the lowest dose. And so on, all the way to Body Eight.
The work should have been absorbing, should have consumed his attention. Instead, he kept getting distracted.
The hum of the refrigeration unit in the corner that was for some reason so loud all of a sudden.
The incessant drip of condensation from the air conditioning vent.
He even imagined the scratch of Petrov's chair against the floor, even though Petrov wasn't there.
He'd left an hour ago to escort Mattie to the bar.
Was he losing his mind?
No, wait. The sound was actually the fan in his computer. He'd mistaken it for Petrov's chair.
Dimitri got up, turned around toward his computer screen that was across the room, and froze.
It was at least four meters away, and the text should have been illegible at that distance, especially since Dimitri was slightly nearsighted but hated wearing glasses. But now, as he looked at the screen, he could read every word clearly as if he were standing right in front of it.
Side effects observed in Subject 7: increased aggression, paranoid ideation, auditory hallucinations. Recommend reducing stimulant component by 5%.
Dimitri blinked. Read it again. Still clear.
What the hell?
He walked to his desk, sat down, and opened the drawer where he kept his glasses. He pulled them out, put them on, and everything became blurry. He took them off, and his vision cleared.
A high-pitched whine cut through his thoughts. Tiny, almost inaudible, coming from somewhere to his left. Dimitri turned his head, tracking the sound, and found its source. A mosquito was hovering above the potted plant on Petrov's desk.
He could hear a mosquito despite all the ambient noise of the lab from three meters away.
Without thinking, he rose from his chair and crossed to Petrov's desk.
The mosquito was still there, a black speck against the green leaves of the plant, its wings beating so fast they blurred.
Dimitri raised his hand, not really expecting to catch it.
He'd never been able to swat mosquitoes.
They always sensed his approach and darted away at the last second.
His hand moved.
The world seemed to slow down, or maybe he sped up, because suddenly the mosquito was there, and his palm connected with a satisfying slap that sent a shock of pain up his arm.
He opened his hand.
The mosquito was a smear of blood and wing fragments on his palm.
Dimitri stared at it for a long moment. Then he looked at his neck in the reflection of Petrov's darkened computer monitor.
Smooth skin. No scar.
Two days ago, an immortal had ravaged his neck. Today, he could see across rooms without glasses, hear a mosquito from meters away, and move fast enough to catch it.
Something fundamental had changed. Something that had started when Tarik had pumped him with his venom.
This was beyond the fast recovery that could be attributed to the healing properties of the venom. He was starting to exhibit immortal traits, and he needed to know whether Tarik's bite could have turned him immortal.
The lab door opened, and Dimitri spun around too fast, his body responding before his mind caught up, leaving him slightly off-balance.
He gripped the edge of Petrov's desk for support as the eight who called themselves Dave filed into the room.
They moved in perfect synchronization, their footsteps falling in unison, their heads turning at the same angle, their eyes, all sixteen of them, fixing on Dimitri with identical expressions of mild curiosity.
"You seem agitated," said the man in front. Number One, as Dimitri had dubbed him. The speaker for the collective. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes." Dimitri forced himself to calm down and let go of the desk. "I just got startled. I didn't hear the door open."
All eight tilted their heads. "You were preoccupied?"
"Yes. There was this mosquito that was getting on my nerves and I was hunting it."
"Did you catch it?"
"Yeah. I got lucky."
"Congratulations," Number One said. "Are the injections ready?"
"Yes." Dimitri motioned at the eight chairs that were a permanent feature in the lab. "Please, sit down and roll up your sleeves."
As they moved to comply, sitting down in perfect harmony, Dimitri grabbed a stool and his notepad instead of reaching for the syringes.
"Before we begin, I need to ask you some questions."
Sixteen eyes fixed on him with identical expressions of mild surprise.
"Questions?" Number One asked. "About what?"
"About the process of transitioning into immortality.
" Dimitri positioned his stool in front of them and sat down, notepad balanced on his knee, pen ready.
"I've been reviewing Dr. Zhao's notes, and I realized that there is almost nothing about that important stage in an immortal's life and the changes in his physiology.
To continue improving the enhancement formula, I need a more complete picture of how immortal bodies work. "
"What would you like to know?" Number Three asked.
"Let's start with the basics." Dimitri kept his voice casual, scientific, the tone of a researcher filling in gaps rather than a man desperately seeking answers about his own rapidly changing body. "How does someone become immortal in the first place? Are immortals born or made?"
"Immortals are born human, but they carry godly genes," Number One said.
"Those genes can only be activated at puberty, when boys can wrestle older, transitioned immortals and trigger their aggression enough for their glands to make venom.
A venom bite from an immortal activates their dormant genes and facilitates their transition. "
Dimitri wrote that down, his pen moving steadily across the page despite the slight tremor in his hands that he was desperately trying to control.
"Interesting. So, the venom acts as a catalyst?"
"Precisely." Number One nodded. "Without the venom trigger, the dormant genes remain inactive. The child would grow up human, age, and eventually die."
"What about humans who unknowingly carry these dormant genes?" Dimitri's heart was beating fast despite his efforts to stay calm. "Do they exist?"
"They do exist. Descendants of ancient matings between immortals and humans. We call them Dormants." Number Two leaned forward. "The bloodlines spread in ancient times, and many humans carry the genes without knowing it. Most will never discover that they have what it takes to become immortal."
Dimitri's mouth got dry, and he was desperate for a sip of water, but he didn't want Dave to notice the storm raging in his mind.
"Are there any signs that someone carries the genes?"
All of Dave's bodies shrugged as one. "Not that we know of," said Number Four. "They are lost to us forever."
"Can an ordinary human turn immortal after a venom bite?" Dimitri asked.
"No," said Number One. "The venom can kill humans, but it can also kill immortals. It all depends on how much is injected. To induce a Dormant, the immortal needs to be careful and inject enough to trigger the transition, but not enough to kill."
Tarik had intended to kill him, but because his friends had stopped him, the venom had just activated Dimitri's dormant genes.
How the hell had he gotten them?
Was one of his parents a descendant of immortals?
Dimitri forced himself to keep writing, to ask the next logical question as if he were simply gathering data.
"What happens once a male Dormant is activated?"
"He might lose consciousness for a short time," Number One said.
"Then he might be sick for a little while.
Fever and body aches are common because the body is working on re-forming itself.
After a day or two, the fever breaks and the good things begin.
Better vision, sharper hearing, heightened sense of smell.
Reflexes become faster. Healing accelerates.
But the process takes time. Up to six months until the transformation is complete. "
Every word landed like another cog aligning in the machine. Enhanced vision. Sharper hearing. Faster reflexes. Accelerated healing.
All things Dimitri had experienced in the past forty-eight hours.
"So, everything keeps improving over the following six months or so?" He kept his voice steady.
"Vision, hearing, and smell improve right away and don't change much over time.
Strength and endurance keep improving. The body becomes more resilient, harder to injure, and quicker to recover.
" Number Six shifted in his chair. "The fangs and venom glands take the longest to grow, and their growth is painful. "
"How long does that take on average?"
"Approximately six months from activation," Number One said. "It's the most dramatic physical change. New glands form in the throat to produce venom."
The length of time and the pain were to be expected. The bone structure of the jaw had to reshape to accommodate the elongating canines, and new neural pathways had to develop to control the extension and retraction of the fangs.
The good news was that he had six months until visible manifestations of his immortality emerged.
"Are the boys given medication for the pain?"
All eight chuckled in unison. "The transition turns a boy into a warrior. What kind of warrior would he be if he needed medication for pain?"
"Is there any way to speed up the process? Or slow it down?" Dimitri asked.
"Once the activation begins, it proceeds at its own pace. It cannot be rushed, slowed, or stopped."
Dimitri looked down at his notes, pretending to review what he'd written while his mind raced through the implications.
It was irreversible.
He was turning immortal, and there was nothing he could do about that.
"Thank you." Dimitri closed his notepad and set it aside. "That was very helpful information."
He rose from the stool and walked over to the counter where the syringes he had laid out waited in a labeled row. His hands were surprisingly steady as he picked up the first one and turned back to face Dave.
"Number One, as always, you are first."
Dimitri administered the injections, moving from one body to the next, working through the sequence while his mind continued to process everything he'd learned.
He was a Dormant. Had been one his entire life without knowing it. Tarik's bite had activated his immortal genes, and now he was becoming one of them.
The thought should have been terrifying, and in some ways it was, but there was also something else beneath the fear and the excitement. It was a flicker of hope he hadn't expected.
He would become stronger, faster, and much harder to kill. He would be better able to protect Mattie and stand up against threats like Tarik.
But first, he had to survive the next six months and make sure that no one discovered what was happening to him, or they would recruit him into their army and make him fight for them.