Metamorphosis

To my nephew, Jonathan, who assisted with military terminology and general protocol. To the Prose Three group for their tireless chapter by chapter critiques. To my beta reader Michelle Lambert – thanks for taking the time to read, and correct Metamorphosis, even though it was not a genre you enjoyed reading.

Last, but certainly not least in any way, a big hug and thank you to M.L. John, for answering grammar questions when I got stuck for answers. You rock!

Midnight Shift

Midnight shift. It was a drag, especially when you were alone.

The data clerk yawned, looking around the large, quiet space feeling … creepy. Time hovered around one o'clock in the morning. He had six hours left on his shift. Rolling his eyes, the youth drained the last drop from a soda bottle, slumped in his computer chair, and jotted information from the computer screen to a log book. It was not a strenuous job but, for the most part, kept him busy.

Beep, beep.

Startled, he glanced at the workstation across the room. An angry red light blinked on a centrifuge. Grumbling, he hoisted his five foot eleven, thin frame from the chair. Mid-way, he stopped. A queer feeling of being watched caused the fine hairs on his neck to spike. Taking a cautious peek behind him, he noted only the stark white room full of gray, waist-high cubicle petitions and bland office equipment.

Get a grip, he muttered.

Switching the centrifuge off, the man stored the sample and grabbed the clipboard to log the information. The lead tip touched the paper the moment a grunting sound echoed off the wall. Looking around, he found nothing out of the ordinary. His attention turned back to the page the moment a scraping sound disturbed the quiet.

Warm, exhaled air brushed against the nape of his neck. Spinning about, man's eyes widened in horror, focused on a shadowy figure before him. A deep, reverberating growl eliciting a bowel wrenching cry from the clerk seconds before a fist slammed into his jaw. The world blurred as the man collapsed to the floor.

The clerk's vision cleared enough to see his assailant drop a laser printer. It landed on the defeated man's head.

CHAPTER ONE

Riotous music annoyed her.

The desire to blot out the noise overwhelmed her the moment she entered the tavern. She resisted the urge to cover her ears, muffle the sound pulsing from the wall speakers. She never liked the deep throb of bass in trance music.

The door had barely closed when the need to back away, to escape, began to overwhelm her. That impression became stronger with each step that took her closer to the bar. A few patrons, she noted, even watched her with curious, vulturine eyes.

Her nervousness increased.

Something persuaded her to come here. Something seemed to guide her steps because it had not been a conscious choice, by Akiko, to walk in a place such as this.

He's here, she knew it. She had felt his essence … strong, absolute. She even sensed his gaze locking on her the moment she entered the roadhouse. Why, she asked herself, did he not come and introduce himself? Stepping up to the bar, she experienced lightheadedness. It, in turn, triggered flashes of shadow images meshed with distant memories, yet the last few hours of her life resembled blank pages that needed the day's activities rewritten on them.

Confused, she sat on a barstool. Hugging herself, another thought entered her mind … a name, her name. Akiko Nakamura.

Massaging a wrist sent a dull pain up that arm. Looking down, her eyes widened in disbelief; greenish, purple bruises encircled both wrists. How, she wondered, did they get there?

Can I get you anything?

Startled, Akiko looked up. A bartender stood behind the counter in front of her. For a moment, the husky man with a cropped, brown beard seemed eerily familiar. Her mind had to be playing tricks. She had never been in this place before, or even met this person and yet …

Akiko refocused, tried to grapple with what felt so recognizable about him. A shiver slipped up her spine. The barman resembled a man she believed harmed her. But that could not be right. He was dead. The man had held her at gunpoint, shoved the barrel against her temple. Told her to obey. She had been certain he was going to kill her. With her mind, she had willed him to turn that weapon on his partner and then himself. When he shot his partner in the chest before blowing his own brains out, it startled her.

She made him kill with a mere thought, forced him to obey her.

Are you okay, lady? the barman inquired.

Yes, she lied, voice holding a slight tremor.

Can I get you something to drink?

While unnerved, she found the bartender's voice had a soothing effect on her frazzled nerves. Offering a vague smile, Akiko said, Water.

After supplying her with a glass of iced water, the man left to serve other patrons.

A pain shot through her head. In its wake, memories of a van, and of two bodies. One man had a large, gaping chest wound and blood splattered all over him. The other, half his face and head was missing. Her muddled thoughts then centered on her gripping bolt cutters, using them to slice metal on a padlock. A blustery backdraft of air swept around her when she leapt into oncoming traffic, landed in the middle of the road, and bound up in a single, smooth motion. She landed on her feet in a grassy field alongside the thoroughfare like a leaf dropped by a cushion of air. From there, she hiked until sunset and arrived here.

The barman returned, offered Akiko a basket of potato wedges.

I didn't order that.

My treat.

Blushing, she averted her eyes, Thanks.

The bartender winked and left.

Akiko stared at the offering, unable to remember the last time she ate. That sparked more images in her mind – faceless people in white uniforms, being in a brightly lit room, painful shots, voices talking in whispers.

Phase I …

Phantom aches from the injection she endured triggered yet another thought. Whatever the shadow people had given her thieved the desire for food. The nameless individuals told her not to worry, her appetite would return. Weeks, perhaps months, elapsed and she had yet to feel a niggling of starvation.

She took a sip of water. A drop slipped from the corner of her mouth. Instinctively, she licked after it and winced when something sliced her tongue. Running a cautious finger across an incisor, she paused. The tooth felt sharper than remembered. Akiko's stomach then rumbled, reacting to the coppery taste of blood from the cut on her tongue.

Panic momentarily flickered in her mind. Then a soothing consciousness reached out and embraced her thoughts. Coaxed by the foreign affability, Akiko glanced behind her. Across the room, leaning against the wall, stood a man. His expression seemed boastful, even suggestive. Despite the dimmed light, she could distinguish the features of his face; confident and calculating, perhaps even cocky. His eyes demanded the most attention. In spite of the distance, she could see they were soft blue, quiet with a subtle hint of self-assured sexuality. The color, however, was not what captivated her. It was the sensation suggestive of them beckoning.

Akiko made her way to him. Standing before the man, she could not take her gaze away from those boisterous eyes, nor did she miss the subtle smile etched on those full, kissable lips.

Her attention lowered to his shirt. The top buttons were undone exposing hints of chest hair. The hem of his shirt was tucked in the waist of khaki slacks – the beige color reflected off his skin giving him a bronze glow of health. The man's hair cascaded around his face, every blond strand in place. He looked … sinful.

Why don't we go somewhere private? he cooed, eliciting a heartfelt feeling that coursed through her like relaxing in the warmth of the sun. It raised a flirty, but cautious smile to Akiko's lips.

May I know you name, stranger?

Later.

We need privacy before you'll tell me who you are? she countered.

The back of his hand wistfully stroked her cheek, It would make things … personable. His smile teased unabashedly. Nothing shall interrupt our getting to know one another … better.

When Akiko looped an arm through his, a sense of possessiveness enveloped her being. The two complimented each other but, for the life of her, she could not understand why.

Their departure drew flagrant, curious stares.

The cool night air held a chill through her yet it did nothing to subdue Akiko's fascination with her escort. Their walk ended at a red, two-seater roadster in the parking lot. Her companion even impressed her by opening the door and allowing her to get in – a rarity given the men she attracted time and again. Akiko had barely settled in when her new-found friend slipped into the driver's seat.

I'd feel a lot better knowing your name. She looked at him, wondering if he would give it this time.

Mitchell, he answered without pause.

Mitchell? She repeated, No last name?

That is all you need to know … for now.

Eyes shifting to the passenger's window, Akiko's curiosity switched to wariness. Whatever attracted her to Mitchell now felt awkward. She found it troubling that he had not asked for her name. That meant, in her opinion, that she held no significance to him other than whatever he planned for the evening. Then again what she had said, and done, tonight had not been normal behavior for her. She would never go to a bar alone, or transparently flirt with a complete stranger. For all she knew, Mitchell could be a serial killer and she might become his next victim.

Whatever possessed her to leave the safety of the tavern to be alone with this man?

To be honest, the ranch styled restaurant/bar was tucked away, on the outskirts of a wooded area and connected to the interstate by one solitary road that to and from it. If Mitchell became violent and killed her, he could dump her remains in the forest where it could be months before anyone found her body.

The sound of something clicking distracted her like of thought. Eyes on her companion, Akiko understood what she heard meant he had applied the door locking mechanism.

Her survival instincts kicked in. Lowering a hand, Akiko gently pushed the seatbelt clasp, detaching the buckle without making the customary snap.

Mind if I open the window? Let in some fresh air? She forced a cheerful lilt to her voice.

No, Mitchell replied without inflection.

Pressing a button on the armrest, she watched the window wind down. The song Fly me to the Moon played on the radio, a tune Mitchell started to hum as well.

An anxious moment lapsed before Akiko lunged for the steering wheel, yanked and sent the car on a collision course with an oak tree. Her foot topped Mitchells on the accelerator and pushed down hard resulting in his striking the left side of her face with the very hand that had been tender minutes before.

Disoriented, Akiko refused to relinquish the death grip she had on the steering wheel. The car's engine roared, barreled toward the oncoming tree. At the last possible moment, Akiko let go of the wheel. Caught off guard, Mitchell turned right hard, overcompensated and sent the car in a sideways skid. The driver's side crashed against the thick trunk, crushed the door as if it were made of aluminum. A heartbeat before impact, Akiko reached up, gripped the top of the window frame and delivered a well-placed kick to the side of Mitchell's face. Hoisting her body out the open space, she glided with cat-like grace, tucked into a ball, twisted and landed on the ground. She rolled twice, sprang to her feet without losing momentum and dashed into the safety of the woodland.

CHAPTER TWO

Angered, Mitchell growled, twisted, and kicked the passenger door with both feet, the force enough to send the door flying as if an explosion had struck, ripping it off the vehicle hinges and all. Once out in the open, he pursued Akiko, pointing his nose at the sky while drawing in several deep breaths.

You can't hide from me! He wiped a dribble of blood from his forehead. I will find you no matter where you go!

Halted just beyond the forest line, Mitchell paused. Only the sounds inherent to the night were audible; the rustling leaves, creaking insects, and an owl hooting in the distance. Blotting those noises out, he hoped, against odds, he would pick up on a sound that would lead him to his quarry.

Mitchell salivated like a rabid dog at the thought.

Phase I … That was what made Akiko so irresistible to him. She ignited a strong sexual urge to course through Mitchel, a craving he had to satisfy. And Mitchell said, he would not stop, nor let anything detour him, until he did. He would even kill anyone who got between him and object of his desire – he was that determined to have her.

Mitchell turned full circle. Growling out of frustration, he admonished himself … he had lost the woman's scent. Even in the gloom of the moonless night, his visual acuity tagged every detail of the forest with ease. His mark could not have gotten far.

Shifting his attention to the treetops, an angered growl issued deep inside his throat. The thick cover overhead refused to reveal secrets within. Still, Mitchell waited and watched. Slowly, his confidence waned yet remained motionless for an additional minute or two before trekking deeper into the thick brush.

***

Akiko trembled as she clung to a tree trunk. She had almost cried out when Mitchell stopped at the base of the tree and glanced up. For an instant, she thought he had seen her, that those dark, angry eyes had pinpointed her location. A sense of relief washed over her when he moved on. Still, the sense of danger lingered.

The wind picked up, heightening her anxiety. Judging from what she grasped just by watching him, Mitchell had excellent tracking abilities. For now, the airstream worked in her favor. But should the wind change, it would carry her scent in the direction he had gone and, no doubt, bring him back.

The hair on the nape of her neck spiked. Looking left, she spotted a dark figure skulking in an adjacent treetop. Like a missile, it launched itself across the distance separating them, releasing a cry she had heard once on a Discovery Channel segment – that of an enraged gorilla preparing for battle.

Braced for impact, Akiko clung to the tree trunk. Mitchell's body rammed into hers, hard. Shrieking, she lost her grip sending the two plummeting down, snapping branches off as they tumbled toward a collision course with the ground. Akiko landed on top of Mitchell, who appeared dazed momentarily but otherwise unharmed. Without thought to anything other than her own safety, the she leapt to her feet and ran deeper into the forest.

It did not take long before the rustle of the underbrush and snapping of dry twigs sounded out behind her. She knew it signaled Mitchell's approach. Pushing herself harder, Akiko dodged obstacles as she ran speedily through the foliage. In spite of her progress, she believed Mitchell was gaining on her.

The undergrowth and trees abruptly ended, caused her to stop cold. A fearful whimper escaped from Akiko's throat at the sight of a lake stretched out before her. Panic wrapped around her mind – why did the thought of water, and going out in it, scare the hell out of her? She had been an excellent swimmer and yet now …

Rustling within the brushes forced Akiko to make a quick decision. Instead of going into the water, she darted down the shoreline. She glanced over a shoulder in time to see Mitchell burst from the forest out into the open. Now nothing to obstruct him, his long stride and quick pace narrowing the gap separating them faster. In no time at all, he would catch up with her.

Akiko's feet entangled, caused her to face-plant in the sand. Rolling onto her back, she spat out sand while gasping for air. Weeks of starvation, and inactivity, had robbed Akiko of her vitality. And the last few minutes had taxed her energy reserves beyond her body's limits. Though weak, fear forced her to get up. She might not be able to outrun Mitchell, but she would not surrender to his demands without a fight.

Turning, she crouched and let out a sound reminiscent of a hyena's cry, a resonance that not only surprised Mitchell, who stopped in his tracks, but also startled her as well.

Stay back! she shouted.

Mitchell, ignoring the issued warning, lunged at her. Akiko remained unmoved, watched his loping, ape-like charge while mentally calculating the precise moment she would make her move.

A tingling sensation began to surge in and around Akiko, her body drawing energy from the surroundings like a sponge. The hum of night noise was drowned out by the rush of a crackling static charge that snapped twigs around her. Mitchell dove across the distance separating the two, rammed a shoulder into Akiko's upper body. The two landed on the ground, rolling end over end before she came to rest on top of him. A cat-like hiss reverberated inside her throat before Akiko bit down hard on the arm Mitchell restrained her with, ripping the shirt material as if it were tissue paper. The sharp canine teeth she fretted about were now anchored deep in his flesh, clamped hard and eliciting a howl of pain, and rage, from Mitchell until he released her.

Akiko leapt to her feet, turned, and raced in the direction of the forest. Mitchell, ignoring the blood from the arm wound, again in pursuit. She felt his breath on her skin, screamed when he pushed her mid-back causing her to stumble forward. Akiko took several steps before losing her balance. When landing on the ground, her head struck a rock at an awkward angle. The world went dark.

***

Mitchell's rage abated. He had heard the cracking sound when his foe's head smacked the rock, knew what it meant. Standing over the motionless woman, he stared down at her, brows crunched in confusion. Nudging her body with the back of his hand, Mitchell then posed a finger over her neck, searched for a pulse. There was none. Backing a step, he grunted, struck his chest several times, cursed his misfortune.

Pity this situation had not been handled better.

But all was not lost. He knew of another. Like Akiko, he felt her presence but not as strong. She had to be far from this place but that did not matter. He would find her just as he found Akiko.

Snorting, Mitchell turned and rushed into the forest.

CHAPTER THREE

It was but a few minutes shy of midnight but Adams could not sure of that fact. Adjusting his tie, the NSA agent walked briskly past a security checkpoint pacing a man wearing a black suit and mirror-shined shoes. His destination? A chat with the CEO of Bio-Genetics Labs – his enigmatic employers. Adams theorized the subject had to be one of two things, both connecting him to this godforsaken company but the spit and polished escort had given no details. He had just requested Adams come with him. After that, the fetch man had not uttered another word.

At the end of a long hall, his escort held up a hand to stop Adams. He rapped twice on a mahogany door before opening it without the requisite acknowledgement and stepped aside. Offering the attendant a disconcerted look, Adams entered the room, alone.

The chamber was spacious, furniture typical for a CEO with expensive taste. What stood out most were framed certificates and gold-framed placards covering the majority of wall space. It was enough to impress the NSA agent.

Adams focused on a small gentleman seated behind an oak wood desk. The man, average looking, clean shaven, and, with the exception of his strawberry blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, would not get a second glance if you passed him in a hall. While he spoke on a white cordless phone, the man lifted a hand and gestured for Adams to approach. As he responded, Adams' attention turned to the second individual standing not far from the desk. He seemed around six-foot-one, wore a dark, tailor made suit like a GQ model. His brownish red hair had a stylish cut, brushing his shoulders. At the moment, the individual stood in front of a large, white mini-blind covered window staring out at the night.

Was he the other CEO of the Project? The partner Adams had not yet met?

Finishing his call, Lucas Albright, the main architect behind Bio-Genetics Labs gave Adams an easy smile as he rose from his chair.

Albright, the agent offered.

Adams – thanks for coming. The two shook hands.

Your tour guide didn't offer a 'no' option.

I apologize for that … his words trailed.

There's no need. The agent downplayed the situation. Can I ask, before we begin, if this will be a sit-down, happy moment, or are you going to crap shoot an otherwise enjoyable evening?

The man at the window grunted, looking at the agent without speaking.

Edward Parks, my partner. Lucas gestured to the man before lowering himself back into his chair. Scowling, Parks turned his eyes back to the window. He handles research and development.

Adams gave the man a silent look. He knew little about Parks other than the man had an excellent reputation in the scientific community. From the frosty reception he had given Adams, the agent was not sure if it was an auspicious honor to finally be introduced to the man.

Please, sit, Lucas offered. The agent sat in a dark brown leather chair that faced the desk. Edward – you want to handle this?

The self-absorbed man seemed to not pay attention to Lucas or his entreaty. Finally, Edward regarded Adams with a flat stare, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. His expression reflected an internal struggle as he appeared to be formulating his thoughts.

"The Project, Edward began in a reserved tone, hit a … snag."

Adams looked to Lucas for explanation. When none issued, he looked back at Parks, "Snag?"

The test subjects, he cleared his throat, … escaped.

I tried on numerous occasions to point out the lax in security at the facility – Lucas picked up before Adams could react.

Oh, give it a rest Lucas. You and I are not rehashing that conversation again! Edward snarled, interrupting Lucas who spun his chair around to glare at his partner.

Whoa! Time out! Adams barged in, drawing their attention. "Did you just say the subjects escaped? His vocal tone lowered in disbelief. Lucas hesitated, then nodded. Edward rubbed his forehead and looked out the window again, But I thought your facilities had the best security protocols in the world."

They do, Edward complained.

Then how could six experimental human lab rats slip out their maximum-security cells and waltz out the door? Adams asked in a restrained tone.

We aren't sure, Edward answered. Our people are reviewing surveillance now to determine why alarms weren't triggered. The chief of security reported he believed the specimens had advanced knowledge of the safety procedures when, to be honest, they shouldn't have.

Recently, Lucas picked up the conversation, the males had been exhibiting stressed-like behavior, showing marked hostility toward their handlers. It got so bad our staff members resorted to tranquilizing the male subjects in order to keep from being injured. Lucas seemed to fidget. "It's been suggested, by the handlers of the males, that they, ah, needed physical release."

Adams glanced from one man to the other, dumbfounded, "Were the males in Phase I not rendered placid in that respect?"

Two sets of eyes blinked. If Adams did not know better, he would have sworn Lucas and Edward looked as if they were caught in a men's room conducting a jerk off contest.

We, also, were of that opinion. Obviously, that assumption was incorrect, Edward said, a somewhat bitter tone in his voice.

What, exactly, does that mean? Adams asked.

The medication used in the trials seems to have been ineffective. The last blood test results show the males' testosterone levels were off the chart, Lucas sighed with frustration before adding, And they desired something they should not have wanted.

Once again, only this time, use English, the agent huffed, sarcastically.

The men, Edward said in a sharp tone, had a desire to procreate.

You're shitting me. Adams shot back. "They broke out of a maximum-security facility because you wouldn't allow them to get a piece of ass?"

Not just a piece of ass, Lucas mocked the agent. "They wanted the females participating in the Phase I trial."

Adams snapped out his chair as if struck by lightning. Dragging a hand through his short brown hair, the agent's expression darkened as he paced to the door and back. The man's reaction alerted Parks and Albright as to Adams understanding the implications of that statement and current situation they were all in. And Adams did not like it any more than them.

How? Adams's brows crunched together. "And how could they know females were even in the program? Wasn't that classified?"

It was. And we're not sure who, if anyone, leaked that fact, Edward answered. "As a rule, the male specimens were kept separate and housed on four different floors. The personnel assigned remained with one individual without rotation. The females were kept on the underground levels from the moment Phase I began. And when the unrest with the males became dire, we decided to transfer Akiko and Jillian to our Florida facility. He rubbed his eyes. I find this hard to believe, but it's as if the men knew about our plans, like they'd developed an awareness of each other. The concept, if true, is one which we're only beginning to explore."

Any ideas about how they got out of their secured rooms?

None of the locks on the doors showed evidence of damage. We, therefore, have to assume they somehow managed to defeat the security codes.

We'd prefer to believe that, Lucas augmented Edward's statement, over the idea this might have something to do with paranormal events.

There is one more thing, Edward said, sighing. Joseph, our late shift data clerk, was killed by specimen Mitchell Wyles. He paused, seemed to collect his thoughts before continuing, Judging from the video we watched the night after Wyles killed the man, he had been at the clerk's computer accessing files.

Adams' eyes jetted between the two, You find out what he was searching for?

Edward glanced at Lucas, who toyed with a metallic blue colored ink pen.

"He, Lucas emphasized the word, found the transponder codes to the tracking devices registered to the test females."

Adams's mouth settled into a tight line, Assure me there is no way Mitchell can get to those ladies, that you got them far away from this place.

The seated man tossed his pen on the desk, folded his arms tight against his chest.

During transport to the airport, Edward answered when Albright said nothing, the women escaped. But you need only concentrate on finding one.

Meaning the other has been recaptured?

Test subject five, Akiko Nakamura, is dead. Lucas rubbed the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. After we learned of the females' escape, we activated the tracking devices. The retrieval team found Akiko two hours ago, approximately sixty miles north of here in a forest near a lake. Her remains are in our facility's morgue and the pathologist should be performing the autopsy as we speak. He seemed lost in thought a moment. Preliminary assessment suggests a broken neck, Adams swore, eyes screaming with anger. After allowing the moment to settle, Lucas added, We've no idea where the other female is because she's gone beyond our ability to track her.

Adams's expression sagged as he plopped into leather chair he had sat in previously.

How deep a shit pile is this?

Real deep, Lucas answered. But as I told Edward, we shouldn't jump on the doom and gloom train yet. We've got months of research data to process. And if we're lucky, something might pop up which could help us re-capture the others before the situation gets worse than it already is.

You're talking about genetically-altered people capable of doing who knows what. Can you tell me what your experimentation has changed in them? Or give me a hypothetical guess as to what they may now be capable of?

"At this stage of the experiment, it's not what they're capable of but what aren't they capable of. Lucas pushed a sealed, legal-sized envelope across the desk toward Adams. The agent looked at it with condescension. That contains information you will need to formulate profiles on the escapees. I have also provided you with photographs of the participants." Lucas leaned against his