"Fuck you, Alaric. You know I discovered the cure for cancer. I deciphered the disease and identified the solution. The pharmaceutical companies are just too greedy for power and money to pass my drug. And I know they paid off a lot of you not to talk and to paint me as a mad scientist. But you see this here..." he held up two small vials, his hands trembling slightly with rage. "I took two bottles when I was rudely and shamefully escorted from the building eight months ago. And guess what? My serum worked. It cured my daughter of cancer. It just took her a few months for her body to rid itself of the pain."
"You stole from the CDC?" Alaric yelled, his face darkening. "You could be arrested, Harvey."
"I don't care. My daughter's life is worth it." He lifted one vial and placed the other in his bag. Then, with a steady hand, he pulled out a syringe and dipped it into the vial. "Now, this is the serum that you developed, Alaric, and there are things that don't seem right in the way it works."
"How did you get your hands on that?"
"As I said, I still have loyal friends in the CDC." Harvey reached into his bag and pulled out a small white lab mouse inside a clear container. The rodent squirmed anxiously. "Let me show you what your serum does. Yes, it helps stop the cancer cells from multiplying, but after a couple of hours, or days even, the drug mutates the test subject's DNA, causing them to become violent, even lethal to those around them."
"Who cares about minor side effects? The pharmaceutical companies love it. People will have to take my medicine every week to stop the cancer cells from multiplying. The cancer patients win, and so do the drug companies. I've already collected half of my check. This is happening. You're just angry because you didn't come up with the idea yourself."
"You're pathetic, Alaric. Let me show you what your drug does to the rat."
"I know what it does to animals. We did the trials on monkeys. They get violent, but they were being monitored, and the violent behaviors ceased after a few hours," Alaric replied.
Harvey moved to inject the serum into the rat when Alaric lunged forward and grabbed his wrist.
"Let go of my hand, Alaric!" Harvey snarled.
"Give it to me!" Alaric growled back, struggling to wrestle the syringe away.
During the scuffle, the mouse slipped from Harvey's grip and darted behind a stack of nearby crates. In the chaos, the syringe jabbed into Alaric's palm.
"FUCK!" Alaric bellowed as the plunger depressed, injecting the serum into his bloodstream. "Look what you did!"
Harvey's eyes widened in horror, his chest heaving. "Here—take this!" he stammered, pulling the second vial from his bag. "It'll slow down the side effects... but it won't stop them."
He had been working tirelessly on an antidote to counteract the aggression caused by Alaric's serum. But before he could hand it over properly, Alaric smacked it from his hand and crushed the vial beneath his heel.
"The aggressiveness will wear off in a couple of hours. I don't need your damn antidote," Alaric muttered, gripping his arm as he marched toward the plane.
"Alaric, wait!" Harvey called after him. "That's what the team in Africa is doing? They're testing it on humans!"
Alaric stopped mid-step, casting a cold glance over his shoulder. But instead of answering, he boarded the plane, leaving Harvey behind, trembling with frustration and dread.
"God is watching you, Alaric..." Harvey whispered hoarsely. "God is watching all of us."
******
3 DAYS LATER
Dr. Burke was furious. The research hadn't gone according to plan. Upon his arrival in Africa, Dr. Laul informed him that the biochemist team couldn't achieve the correct measurements for the serum's mathematical modeling. Out of 113 test subjects, ages ranging from eighteen to sixty, all had shown signs of severe, uncontrollable aggression.
The U.S. Army, who had been discreetly assigned to oversee the project, handled the fallout with brutal efficiency: execution. A bullet to the head for each subject. One by one. No reports. No evidence. No mercy. They couldn't risk the U.S. facing scrutiny for inhumane experimentation under the guise of scientific research.
After a grueling twelve-hour inspection of the underground facility, Dr. Burke was ready to return to the States. Dr. Laul and a few others remained behind to see if the serum could still be perfected.
Dr. Burke chose to bring Dr. Dwight Weston along with his two young assistants back to America, stating he had further research to conduct at the CDC and would need Weston's assistance.
Moments later, the plane was in the air, slicing through thick clouds on its way home. The passengers were enjoying the quiet until one doctor broke the tension.
"Dr. Burke has been sleeping for the entire flight," Dr. Joseph Edwards remarked, glancing back at the slouched figure. "He needs the rest, though. He's been acting... different the past few days."
"Yeah, he's been so irritable and aggressive. Did you see the way he snapped at Dr. Laul yesterday?" Dr. Tom Scott asked.
"And he hasn't been looking good either. When our hands touched last night, he was burning up," Dr. Weston added with concern. He walked over to Burke and placed a hand gently on his forehead. His expression dropped. "Guys... he's not breathing!" Weston cried.
"What do you mean, he's not breathing?! Move—let me see!" Edwards leapt to his feet and hurried over. He pressed two fingers against Burke's neck. "He's cold... I can't find a pulse."
"Dr. Scott, help me get him flat on the floor. Dr. Weston, inform the pilots!" Edwards ordered.
Scott grabbed Burke's shoulders while Edwards took his legs, gently lowering him to the floor of the aircraft. "I'm best at CPR. See if you can find some adrenaline in Dr. Burke's bag," Scott instructed urgently.
"One—two—three—breathe," he counted rhythmically, performing chest compressions and rescue breaths.
"I didn't find any adrenaline," Edwards panted.
"CPR isn't working!" Scott shouted.
"I think it did! Look, his lips just moved!" Edwards cried in relief. "Thank God!"
"What?" Scott paused, leaning closer.
A low, guttural growl came from Dr. Burke's throat. His body jerked as if electricity had surged through it.
"Dr. Burke, I'm so glad you're okay..." Scott said hesitantly.
"The pilot says we land in an hour," Weston said as he returned. "Is he awake?"
"Yes. Let's get him in his seat," Scott replied, still rattled. "It's been a long day. I just want to go home and sleep for a week."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Edwards murmured.
Scott leaned in to help lift Burke's head when he suddenly froze.
"Dr. Burke?" he whispered.
Burke's eyes opened, but they were no longer brown. They looked dead and glassy. His pupils were a cloudy, marbled white. Not human. Not anymore.
"What the fuck is wrong with his eyes?" Scott gasped as his hands trembled in fear.