Matthew walked back out into the hallway, stepping over the broken door hinges, and broken doorframe wood laying on the floor. He groaned in pain as the appendages on his back retracted into his back. His back folded back. Bones snapped back into their normal state, and his skin folded back together like a coat zipper.
"Eric?" Vanessa said as she held the phone up to her ear. She had arrived at Eric's house, parking her car on the road in front of the house. The Bird has long since flown the coop after being disturbed by the constant, persistent curiosity of neighbors. So it was no longer there. To her, everything seemed normal. But there were signs of things not being..well…normal.
For one, the front living room curtains were closed, which was odd. Eric always had them open in the morning and throughout the day. But not today, not this time. Vanessa had no clue as to what she was about to walk into.
As she pulled up, the animal control van drove past her in the opposite direction. It was escorted out of the neighborhood by two police patrol cars and a SWAT armored vehicle. Focused on getting ahold of Eric, she missed that red flag. Don't text or drive folks!
"Eric? What's going on? You haven't texted back. I'm outside," she said into the phone as she looked around.
She walked up the steps and onto the front porch. The faint howling of the wind to her left made her look over. When she did, she saw thin, almost transparent white curtains flapping around in the wind on the windowsill.
Their car was still parked in the driveway, indicating they were still home. Walking over to the front door, she opened the screen door. Hissss. Knocking as she looked back down at her phone. Putting the phone on speaker, she went back to her messages with Eric.
Today 6:53 AM [Vanessa]
What did Dr. Anderson say about the results? Anything?
Today 6:53 AM [Eric]
Never disclosed fully. Wants us to come in for an appt. Calling later to schedule a date and time.
Today 6:53 AM [Vanessa]
Any word on finding Ariel's family?
Today 6:54 AM [Eric]
Nothing yet. Extended the ad in the paper for another week. Someone has to come forward. There's someone out there.
Today 6:54 AM [Eric]
I know it. She can't be alone.
Today 6:54 AM [Vanessa]
Just remember what I told you, dear. There's always adoption too.
Today 9:42 AM [Vanessa]
Pick up! Why aren't you answering? Is everything okay?
Hello? Answer!
Today 12:04 PM [Vanessa]
I'm on my way over. Took off work early. Worried about you. Be there soon. Hope you and the kids are safe.
That was the last message she'd texted him. That message was sent half an hour ago. Now that she was here, she could get to work on checking in on them. As she stood on the front porch, staring over at the flapping curtains, another vehicle parked on the road behind her. Bang, the car door went as it slammed shut. A man had gotten out of the red Ford Fusion and was walking across the front lawn and over to the front porch where she was.
A bald, older man got out of the car. Walking across the front lawn, his coat flapped in the gentle breeze. A black pistol was in its holster, while his badge was clipped to his belt. Wearing baggy grey pants, a white button-up shirt, and a blue tie, he called out.
"Excuse me, Miss," the man said. "But do you live here? Do you by chance know…the owner of this residence?"
Vanessa has a slim build for her age; 36. She has shoulder-length clean blonde hair. Brown eyes, wearing black Ralph Letterman designer glasses. He has glasses, and hazel green eyes, and is just slightly taller than Vanessa.
"Eric?" Vanessa said as she knocked again, "open up, please."
Putting the phone back into the purse, she zipped it shut. From there, she set the purse down. The screendoor hissed and creaked.
"Detective Alexander West, P.P.D," he introduced.
Turning around to look at him, she shook her head. Vanessa is showcasing immense concern and frustration. "No. He won't pick up. Hasn't returned any texts or calls."
Alexander walked up the stairs, his right hand sliding up the railing for support. Walking over to her, he held his coat back to reveal his badge. Vanessa didn't notice it the first time.
"What took you so long?" She asked.
"Can't just drop everything, I have other duties," Alex answered in a respective, calm tone.
"He won't pick up. He won't return any texts or calls. Something's wrong."
Detective West walked over to the screendoor, pulling it open. He knocks on the door a few times, then getting quiet to listen for anyone inside. Bang!
"Quiet!" Matthew's muffled voice said from inside.
"Hello?" Detective West said. "We know you're in there, Mr. LeBlanc. You're wife is outside. She's worried. Please…open up."
Eric, Ariel, and Timothy had all been taking out of the house and were gone. Matthew and Stitches returned to the house to find anything useful in their war to dominance. When the detective and Vanessa arrived outside, they were roaming freely about inside. Opening drawers, tossing papers, chairs, and other things around in anger and rage.
"Keep looking," Matthew mumbled, "the file is here somewhere."
Knock, knock, knock. "Mr. LeBlanc, open the door," Detective West said again from outside, this time sounding more intentional and loud.
"The window," Vanessa said, "it's broken."
The screendoor hissed and creaked as it closed shut. Alexander and Vanessa walked away from the front door and down the front porch steps. Matthew looked back over his shoulder at Stitches. They were both in the kitchen area, combing through the cabinets, drawers, and Eric's desk to find the file. A file classified as The Centipede Trials.
The Centipede was one of Matthew's earliest documented experiments; only second to experimenting on himself with successful results. At that time, the Sahara Therapeutics Corporation was still operating the facility on the island. Largely unnoticed by the higher-ups, his experiments went by with little oversight.
Matthew tried opening a drawer, but it wouldn't budge. It was locked. The only way to open it was by key. Matthew pulled on the drawer but gave up.
"Find that fucking key," Matthew said, gritting his teeth in anger.
Thud! Matthew and Stitches both heard that; both of them freezing. The bang came from Ariel and Timmy's bedroom. To continue their stealthiness, they stand quietly in place.
"Eric, you home?" Vanessa asked in her normal toned voice.
Drip….drip. Dripping in short intervals, water from the the sink water dripped out. It dripped and it dropped. The sink in the kitchen leaked continuously. It fed into the adrenaline Matthew was feeling. His heart raced, wanting to pound through his chest. Sweat building up on his face, running down his forehead. Inhaling and exhaling more frequently; becoming more apparent as the known came their way.
Detective West and Vanessa walked out of the bedroom. After finding that Timmy or Ariel were there, they went out into the hallway. Detective West first, with Vanessa trailing close behind him. He held it gun and flashlight out in front of him as they started walking down the hallway toward the kitchen.
"Eric?" Vanessa asked again, "what's going on? Where are the ki–,"
"Quiet," Detective West said.
A shadow had been spotted, followed by another one. There were two people in the house, not just one. Detective West pushed Vanessa up against the wall next to the closet.
"Stay here," he told her, turning around to continue into the kitchen.
Vanessa was terrified beyond belief. Her heart was racing now too. She was sure that the Detective's heart was pounding, but couldn't be certain. She reached into her purse as he began walking away from her. Frantically digging around, she found what she was looking for: pepper-spray.
"P.P.D," Detective West said, "hands where I can see them. Both of you!"
As he came around the corner, the two shadows they'd spotted a moment earlier, were still moving around. He slid up to the corner of the wall, looking into the white reflective glass cupboards.
"Gotchya," he mumbled as he raised his gun. Inhaling once, and then exhaling. Just before Vanessa could offer him the pepper-spray, he flew around the corner. He began shouting as he disappeared behind the wall. Vanessa could only listen to what he was doing.
"Fucking fuck–," Detective West shouted, "they're gone, whoever they were."
Vanessa held the pepper-spray in her hand–just to be sure and certain that whoever was in the house was truly gone. Walking into the kitchen, with shattered glass shards crunching under her feet with every step.
"Where'd they go?" Vanessa said as she stepped out from around the corner. Looking straight ahead, she saw the detective breathing heavily and shaking his head. He put his gun back into the holster under his gray trench coat.
"They fled," he told her, turning around to face her. Massaging his forehead, he continued to sighed and shake his head. Vanessa sensed that he wasn't happy; but pissed off. "I had 'em. If only I'd told you to stay outside, they wouldn't have gotten away."
Vanessa frowned and gasped in shock. She was thrown off by his sudden shift in attitude. "So this is my fault?"
"I never said that," he responded.
"Didn't need to," she said, "I got what you were referring to."
"My partner and I have been investigating these assholes for quite some time. But everytime we got close, they'd flee before we could capture them. They've always been one step ahead."
"Partner?"
"Detective Adams," he said, "early on in our investigation, we uncovered one commonality between every file–a remote island 80 miles offshore. Upon discovering this, we had to be sure."
"What happened to her?" Vanessa asked.
"To this day, still not sure what came of her disappearance," he explained, "Our plan was to go together. I stayed behind. But not because I wanted to. If it weren't for my accident, she'd still be here working with me. I blamed myself for her disappearance."
"She went alone, didn't she?"
"That's correct," detective West responded. "Anyways, that's is none of your business. I'm calling this in," detective West mentioned, "stay put."
He walked away, putting the phone up to his ear. While she waited, she grabbed her phone out of her purse. Opening the messaging app on her phone, she sent another text. Maybe this time he'd respond.
A notification came through on the computer. It chimed almost like a small bell chiming and ringing. Putting the phone back in her pocket, Vanessa walked over to the computer. It was the computer that chimed. Maybe it was from the phone. When she sent the text, she heard a phone vibrate nearby.
"Don't touch anything," Detective West instructed.
Vanessa sighed and stepped once to her left to stand in front of Eric's phone. Doing this, she was blocking his view. Slowly reaching down to pick it up, she grabbed it and flipped it over. The screen turned on.
"Yup, sounds good Captain. Thank you," Detective West said as he took his phone away from his ear to end the call. After that, he tucked the phone into his inner pocket.
There were the notifications from her. All her missed calls and ignored text messages. But there was one that stood out. When she tapped on it, a passcode screen blocked her from seeing the email notification.
"Shit," Vanessa mumbled.
"Did you say something?"
She shook her head and quickly put the phone into her purse, then zipping it closed. Detective West walked over to her, standing alongside her. Lucky for her, he hadn't realized the phone was gone. Did he even notice it at all?
"Didn't say anything," she told him as she slowly moved the mouse over the notification. When she clicked on it, Detective West was now standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. He grabbed her hand tight and pulled it back.
"I said don't touch anything," he reiterated to her. The notification that came through on the computer also came through on his phone. With the sounds of two chimes, she froze. Looking down at her purse, he let go of her hand.
"Is that–?"
"No, that's just–uh–a text from a friend. Supposed to meet for dinner later," she said and told him on the spot, worried that he might not believe the lie she just told. Could she really outsmart a well established detective like himself?
"Keep it down," he whispered, "whoever was here could still be here."
"Hello. This is Dr. Matthew Cross. Today's date is March 7, 2004. Time is 8:43:02 a.m. Subject has entered sleep paralysis stage, and is unresponsive. Not dead. Just asleep. The sedative I administered took only 4 minutes 45 seconds to become effective."
"Vitals are normal, Dr. Cross," a female assistant of his announced.
Detective West and Vanessa both stopped as the notification, which turned out to be a video or a log of some sort. They both fell silent as the video continued playing. The detective put blue latex gloves on before touching anything…unlike Vanessa.
"Matthew…fucking….Cross," he mumbled.
As the video went on, they both stood and watched. Dr. Cross was sitting at his desk at the start of the log entry, but turned around and got up. On a metal table, with a light beaming down on it, there was an unconscious boy. Most of his body was covered up by a white tarp. There were two other scientists preparing the child. Checking vitals, making sure enough water was still getting into his body from the hanging bag, and feeling around for a pulse.
"What is this?" Vanessa asked.
"One of his earlier experiments. Or to simplify…his first mutation," West mumbled.
"He used children as–as–."
"Lab rats? You are correct."
She covered her mouth and gasped. Breathing heavily as she backed away from the desk. Turning around, she couldn't bear to watch anymore.
Back on the video log, another assistant pushed a cart over to the table. On it, was one syringe and a small glass bottle. From the quality of the camera, West couldn't make out what the liquid inside the bottle was. Dr. Matthew Cross spoke again with his back facing the camera this time.
"Heart rate is 45 b.p.s, remains steady. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Preparing serum for injection."
Matthew turned to his left, pulling his white glove over his right hand. Once he did that, he grabbed the syringe. Taking the cover off, he then grabbed the bottle. Carefully and steadily, he poked the syringe through a tiny hole in the cap.
"Extracting serum. One dosage should suffice," he explained clearly.
"Heart rate rising, Doctor; 52 b.p.s," the female assistant said as she eyed the heartbeat monitor screen. "Sedative must be wearing off. We need to inject the serum now, Doctor."
"Thank you Miss Stevens. I'm aware," he said back as he pulled the the needle out of the bottle. Turning, with his back now facing the camera once more, three flicking sounds were heard.
"Injecting serum now," he said as he put the needle into a main artery in the child's lower arm. "Standy by."
"On stand by, Doctor," Dr. Stevens, his assistant, repeated.
"Serum injected," Matthew told.
After setting the needle back down on the metal tray next to him, he took a couple steps back. His two assistants did the same.
Vanessa, even though she wasn't watching, she listened in on what was being said.
"23 seconds since injection," Matthew said as he pushed his coat sleeve back to check the time. "Vitals remain steady. No noticeable fluctuations. Subject remains in sleep paralysis state."
A moment of silence went by before anything serious began. But when it did, it started everyone.
"Oh my god," the female assistant shouted as she ran back over to the metal table. The subject began violently shaking, with white foam oozing out of his mouth. Matthew didn't react like his two colleagues. He simply stood and watched.
"Heart rate spiking; 110 b.p.s–no 119 b.p.s," the assistant shouted.
"Blood pressure rising, Doctor," the other assistant said.
Ignoring them, he turned around. He walked back over to the camera, leaning over to talk.
"It appears I may have miscalculated the correct dosage. Subject 4-4-6, test 0-0-4 is a failure."
"Subject has no pulse. Get the defibrillator–NOW!"
"Blood pressure dropping," the other one said as he ran to grab the cart with the defibrillator cart. Wheeling and running back over to the table, he turned a dial. The device rung at a high frequency as the assistant rubbed the two pads together.
"We're losing him Doctor!"
In the background, the metal table rattled and banged. The cart with the metal tray on it fell over, creating a deafening bang. What the camera couldn't see was that the child was shaking uncontrollably; foam still oozing out of his mouth.
Then, shockingly, the heart beat monitor began reading a returning pulse.
"We have a pulse! Reading: 06 b.p.s and rising, Doctor."
"Well…would you look at that? It appears my calculations were correct after all. I hereby recant my previous statements and–."
Behind, the female assistant was grunted and began gasping. The other assistant, a man, dropped the defibrillator pads and backed away. He had his mouth covered and was in shock. The white tarp that covered the body was tossed onto the floor.
When Matthew did turn around, he saw the commotion. Doing this, it was revealed what was going on. His female assistant, Dr. Stevens body collapsed, her lab coat and sweater covered in blood and a slimey, transparent substance.
Yes, Matthew's calculations were correct. But a side-effect even he couldn't have predicted…happened. The serum, instead of reacting the way he'd anticipated, it did something entirely different. What was created to one day be a cure for cancer, resulted in a unforeseen bloody and brutal mutation.
"Fascinating," he mumbled, "It appears as though the serum didn't work as it was supposed to, no. Instead it reacted differently. It mutated the boy's body, transforming it into something mutant-like."
Before he could finish his statement, the video ended. Detective West covered his mouth too, slowly backing away from the computer desk. Vanessa turned around just as he did. When they met eyes, detective West was breathing heavily in shock and disgust.
"What did he mean by "transforming it into something mutant-like"?" She asked.
"You–you need to leave," he instructed, "they'll be here any minute now…now get out. Go as far away as possible, understand? It's not safe for you to be here anymore."
"What'd he mean?"
"That's none of your concern."
Vanessa scoffed and rolled her eyes. She put her purse strap over her left shoulder; proceeding to storm out of the house. Once she was gone, slamming the front door behind her, he turned back around to look back over at the paused video recording.
"The Centipede," he mumbled, "it is real."