Chapter 30
Ipaced back and forth inside the infirmary, watching as Dr. Yan took note of Tiffany’s vitals and compared the readings on her tablet with the charts.
Tiffany wasn’t sleeping. She was being kept unconscious by a cocktail of drugs to ensure she could rest and felt no pain while her system underwent the effects of the changes.
I knew that a bad reaction was one potential outcome, but I was so fixated on the idea of changing my calf into the most beautiful of cows that I pushed those thoughts away. Now I was ravaged by guilt.
“How is she?” I whispered when she finished with Tiffany.
“She’s stable, Mr. Hill.”
“Thank you,” I said, finally, stepping away and allowing her to leave.
She walked away, but stopped at the door to give me what was meant to be a comforting look.
Then it was just me and Tiff. She laid on the infirmary bed, covered in a hospital gown, breathing slowly as machines beeped with her heartbeat, monitored oxygen levels in her blood, along with her other vitals.
I told myself there was nothing to worry about.
This was the best medical care she could get; some of it wasn’t even commercially available.
There was no facility in the world better equipped to take care of Tiffany.
I sat down, holding her hand and looking at her face. Was she too warm? Was that sweat on her forehead? I took a deep breath as my eyes fell into the pattern on her skin. My memories drifted far, far back.
I was sitting on the back of my father’s massive SUV with him as the driver took us up to his farm in upstate Vermont.
My father clutched his ebony cane with an ivory-carved longhorn skull at the top.
He didn’t care that he looked like the villain from every western movie, or that Ivory hadn’t been an acceptable symbol of extravagance in decades.
We left the car at the gate and walked to the farmhouse. I thought it was weird; my father wasn’t crazy about exercise. As we made it out of earshot of the driver, he said, “What you are about to see will show you why I had to get you here. Why I had to lie…”
“I don’t care, nothing you can show me will make me care,” I replied.
My father laughed and continued to walk uphill, towards the farmhouse.
When we reached the top, I was shocked. Armed guards watched over a construction crew.
Three trucks were mixing concrete and another was pumping it into a hole in the ground while a bulldozer pushed mountains of dirt out of the way.
The small farmhouse was nothing compared to the immense construction going on.
A small tent city surrounded by wire fences sat in the corner, complete with a watch tower outside the fence.
Obviously, the purpose was to keep people in rather than out.
“What … What is this?” I asked with mild horror.
“This is how empires are built, son,” he said proudly.
“Mr. Hill,” one of the guards approached. “Great to see you, sir.”
The man was white with blond hair and blue eyes, but had a strong South-African accent. Something about that combination made me uneasy.
“Thanks, Major. Call me Ron. Anything to report?”
“Three assets tried to escape last night. Two were apprehended and one had their contract terminated.”
“Well done. Call the coyote and get some men to replace them.”
“Yes, sir.”
I was stunned. As the mercenary walked away, it dawned on me. Those prisoners were building a secret facility at gunpoint.
I needed answers. “What’s happening here? What are you building?”
“A bunker, son. A big one.”
“A bunker? I-I thought you wanted help with your farming business? Why does a farm need a bunker?”
“I never said I was in farming. I said I was in Milk,” my father’s eyes lit with malice.
“Is there any difference?”
He just laughed, then gave me the tour that would haunt me for the rest of my life.
He told me about the facility in occupied China, where Japanese scientists in World War 2 experimented on humans.
I knew all that, of course, but as my father walked me towards the half-finished underground complex, he explained more.
“It wasn’t just about torture methods and experimental gas weapons.
Japan was undergoing a terrible shortage of milk and cattle.
Cattle weren’t very calorie-efficient to grow in times of war.
That’s when a brilliant man saw the captive population in China as an opportunity.
He’d put their newly conquered territory to good use. ”
“W-what?”
“I know. It sounds absurd. Especially considering Asian women have such small tits, but they were onto something. That ‘something’ was very profitable.”
I should have known what he meant, but I didn’t; not fully. Then he opened the door and showed me the captive women. At least, they’d once been women. They had uneven limbs, horns, and tufts of hair. They whined and cried in pain. Those who could speak, begged to be released or killed.
“Not all of them produce milk. The Formula works, but it’s not stable.
Yet. We’re getting closer with each iteration.
Batch 16 seemed very promising, but the group had compromised immune systems and were prone to infections.
We went back a few steps with batch 17 as you can see. Not our finest work.”
“Batch17? How many women have you-”
“Killed? Most of them. Those that can’t produce milk have no use. Killing them is kindness, so they don’t leave in pain.” He sighed, like it was a shame to lose something useful. Emphasis on thing. In his eyes, they weren’t people, they were projects.
I didn’t want to believe it, but I could not deny what I was seeing.
My father was crueler than I ever believed.
Just seeing all those women in cages, thinking about how many more he had killed, and how little that affected him, convinced me that he was a monster. A monster that needed to be stopped.
That night, he took me to meet the science team working on perfecting the formula.
Those nervous scientists were obviously there against their will.
They were terrified, emaciated, and drained of any will-power.
All but one. A woman. As I winced in response to the ‘failed’ outcomes of the experiments, our eyes met.
I knew - we knew - that something had to be done about my father.
We just needed a plan. I read her name tag, knowing she was likely the only ally I would find, Susan.
The door to the infirmary opened, and Susan and Wren walked in as if summoned from the depths of my Memory. Dr. Yan walked right behind them.
“What’s happening? Why the reunion?”
“Nice to see you too, Carter,” Susan teased.
“That’s not what I mean.” I sighed.
“I just wanted to give the news to all concerned parties at once rather than giving individual updates on this,” Dr. Yan said, always fucking practical.
“There’s nothing wrong with Tiffany. The passing out was just an abnormally strong allergic reaction to some of the formula’s inactive ingredients.
It’s extremely rare, since we use hypoallergenic ingredients.
However, due to her Amish background, I’d wager she hasn’t been exposed to some common chemicals. ”
“What are you saying?” Wren asked.
“Currently, her transformation is on course and she’s not in any danger. We’ll keep her sedated now, to avoid destabilizing the process, but she should wake up soon and transform fully in the next couple of days.”
I thanked Dr. Yan with a nod and she left. Susan sighed, approached Tiffany, then looked at me with concern and a knowing edge.
“Have you told her?” She asked
“Told her what?” I replied.
She didn’t answer. There was no need.
I sighed. “No, I haven’t.”
“You need to.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re falling for her. I can tell.” She paused and looked at Tiff. “The formula seems to be working, but if it doesn’t, we might need to … be merciful and-”
“No,” I said immediately, “No, we won’t do that under any circumstance.”
Susan rolled her eyes and then looked at Wren.
“Be that as it may. You need to tell her,” Susan said matter-of-factly.
I took a deep breath. She was right. I wouldn’t be able to outrun the truth for long. Tiffany had taken a leap of faith for me.
“I know,” I said finally. “I will.”
Telling the truth was the right thing to do. Still, I remembered raising my gun and pressing the trigger, ruining the brain of one of those mutated girls my father created. The right thing to do could be very ugly sometimes.