Rhesus Factor, Part Four

“F-friend,” I muttered, my lips dry. “Friend?”

            Red Ear spread his lips, revealing a row of sharp teeth. He didn’t look friendly.

            Whatever Averill had given them to spur their mutations was probably painful. They were growing and changing too fast. Two of the macaques were fighting each other, pulling at ears and fur. One rolled on the ground, arms wrapped around its knees, moaning piteously.

            The rest looked ready to rip us apart.

            Waller sat up and leaned against the door we’d been stuffed through. “What . . .”

            I slid to put myself between her and the tribe. “Averill.” My voice sounded husky through my fear-dried throat. “Put us in here. Let the monkeys kill us.” So he didn’t have to do it himself.

            “That’s . . . stupid.” Her head dropped. “Then what . . . oh. Incinerator.”

            Yeah. I wondered what kind of stress for results he was under that he’d go this far.

            Red Ear stalked away. But another macaque took his place, bigger and more menacing. It darted forward, then jumped away, as if testing us—or its own courage.

            I ran a hand over my hair. Then I tried the door. Locked.

            Across the habitat, Averill was watching us through the reinforced window. His eyes looked glassy and dazed, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d done.

            “Averill!” I doubted he could hear me, but he’d get the message anyway. “People know I’m here! Let us out!” I pointed at the door.

            He shook his head. His expression seemed sad. But he just turned and walked away. Unable to watch? Bastard.

            Red Ear pounded forward again on all fours. He lurched up on his hind feet, arms wide, and howled in my face. I could smell and taste his breath. Foul, not his fault, but I choked back a surge of nausea.

            Should I fight? Or be submissive? I focused on trying not to add to the soiled straw on the floor.

            Then the door opened behind us.

            Averill? Change of heart? I half-turned my head, keeping one eye on Red Ear. The monkey seemed confused too.

            Not Averill. The orange-suited janitor I’d seen on the first day, his MAGA cap slipping over his scalp. He leaned down and pulled on Waller’s shoulders. “Help me!” he shouted.

            Red Ear clawed at my butt as I grabbed her feet and lifted her through the door. I kicked, and then the janitor grasped my arm. I crawled through and collapsed at the floor as he shoved the door shut.

            “Damn it.” The janitor wiped his face with a checkered handkerchief. “What were you doing in there?”

            “Averill . . .” I managed to stand up, holding onto the wall. “He put us in there. Who the hell are you? Thanks, by the way.”

            “No problem.” He pulled off his cap. “I’m Chuck Tillers.”

I could see it now. Tillers had shaved his beard and most of his scalp, and the big loose Donald Trump cap hid enough of his head and ears to make him look different from the photos I’d been given. Maybe it also had the added effect of making his co-workers ignore him.

            “Okay.” I took a tentative step toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

            “No!” Waller sat up. “He got my flash drive. I need it.”

            I patted my pockets. My phone too. I had my contacts backed up, and buying a new phone would be expensive. I could live without the pictures I’d taken. I just wanted to go home.

            Waller’s face was red and sweaty. “I don’t have the latest data backed up—and I’m not going to get in here tomorrow.”

            Tillers stared at her. “Tina—what’s going on?”

            “Ever heard of Red Watch?” I was still looking at the door.

            “Oh hell.” Tillers leaned back, his arm on the door handle. “I’ve been trying to do the same thing—without you yahoos mixing things up.”

            “Well, you haven’t been doing anything. Have you?” Waller swung on her feet, and for a moment I thought she was going to fall down. “How long have you worked here? What have you been doing?”

            “Long story.” Tillers put his hat on. “Let’s go.”

            I could have left. I wanted to. But I wanted to find out more about Tillers—since I wasn’t going to get paid anyway. Maybe I’d even get my phone back.

            We crept down the hall around the habitat. “Is everyone here in on this?”

            “Some of them think they’re trying to cure diseases, like herpes. But everyone has to sign nondisclosure agreements. They’re pretty tough.”

            “I signed one.” Waller was looking better, breathing more steadily. “It was bullshit.”

            “Averill thinks he’s creating a new species. That’s what they want.”

            “What for?” I had to ask.

            He shrugged. “A new race of super soldiers? I’m not sure. I know other facilities are doing brain operations, electronic implants, trying to control the monkeys.”

            “We’ve heard about that too.” Waller was using the wall to stay upright. “We haven’t been able to get inside those.”

            “Whatever.” Tillers grimaced. “Anyway, It wasn’t going fast enough here—partly because some of us were trying to keep it slow. But I found his new drug regime on the system. When Arlo died, I tried to dissect him. His heart had expanded to four times normal size.

Averill was accelerating the program, and that’s when I decided to disappear.”

            We were in front of Averill’s door. “But I needed to stay here. So I stole a nametag and a security card from one of the janitors who quit. I had a friend reactivate it. It wouldn’t have worked forever, but I was hoping . . .”

            Tillers put a hand on Averill’s doorknob. It turned—not locked.

            He whispered: “Me first.”

            Totally. I nodded.

            Tillers pushed the door open.

            Averill was behind his desk, talking on the phone, a bottle of vodka in front of him. He looked up, startled, and dropped the phone as Tillers rushed forward.

            I was behind him, Waller at my side. Averill bent down, trying to grab for his cattle prod, but Tillers was too fast. He shoved Averill out of his chair onto the floor and punched him in the face.

“That’s for Arlo.” His voice was a growl. Like a monkey.

“You can’t—what the—Chuck?” Averill gazed up.

Tillers picked up the phone, its cord twisting. “Hello? Yeah, Mr. Averill can’t talk right now. Get ready for the news tomorrow.” He slammed it down.

I snatched the cattle prod and threw it across the office. It hit a framed photo of a monkey on the wall and dropped away.

Waller pushed me, slapping at Averill’s pockets. Then she kicked him in the leg as she twisted around to pull on the drawers in his desk.

I spotted my phone and grabbed it. Waller laughed, snatching up her flash drive. “Got it, you son of a bitch.”

Averill rolled over, moaning. “You don’t know—you can’t stop this. Chuck? Tell them.”

“Can we go now?” I suddenly wondered if anyone else was here.

“I’ll stay.” Tillers rubbed his almost bald scalp. “I have to watch the monkeys.”

Waller patted her pocket where she had the flash drive. “I’ll make sure this gets out.”

I looked at the bottle of vodka. But I couldn’t take a drink right now. “I guess I’ll go home and write this case off.” I held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Thanks.” His grip was firm.

Then I remembered. “Uh, I don’t know how to tell you this, but—Martin Kell?”

“Marty?” Tillers laughed. “Oh, yeah. Him and my wife. I know.”

“Sorry.”

“I saw him leaving a note on your car. At least I think it was your car. The red Honda?”

“That’s me. Trying to scare me off, I guess. Anyway . . .” I looked at the door. “What now?”

Waller was already gone. We walked out of the office, leaving Averill on the floor.

In the hall we looked through the windows at the habitat. The macaques were jumping around, screeching and howling. I saw a dead one next to the pool of water. Red Ear swung from the net, as if he was lord above all.

Tillers sighed. “I’m afraid.”

“Of them?”

“What’s going to happen to them.” He leaned forward, his forehead touching the reinforced glass. “Once Tina shares her information and this hits—they can’t be cured. They’ll probably have to be destroyed. I was trying to stop it. Damn it.”

A monkey rose up on the other side of the window. Its eyes blinked, and then it pressed a paw against the glass. It tilted its head. Then it sank down again.

“Sorry.” I turned to go.

“Send me a bill.” Tillers looked up. “You found me. Somebody should pay you. And thanks.”

I wasn’t sure about the bill. But I appreciated the offer. “Glad to help.”

“Are you okay?” Rachel poured me a cup of coffee.

            I was looking at pictures of monkeys on my laptop. Macaques, chimps, orangutans, spider monkeys . . . Waller’s story hadn’t hit the internet yet. Maybe it never would.

            “I’m fine.” I checked my email. “Good thing you weren’t there last night.”

            She punched my arm. “You don’t need to protect me.”

            “I know.” She’d proved that over and over again. “But those monkeys were—scarier than vampires.”

            I had an email from Waller. No attachments or links. Just: “It’s coming soon.”

            Then another one from Tillers. “Hope you’re okay. Just so you know . . .”

            He attached a video of body bags carried out of the facility. Big enough to hold humans—or the monkeys inside the habitat. Then a chain around the back door.

“Maybe it’s done.” I thought about Red Ear. “I hope so.”

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