Robbie Dorman - Regrowth

“I don’t know,” said Jon. “He tried to destroy the place. People could have been hurt.”

“Yeah,” said Tabby. “That’s true. I still feel bad for him, regardless of what he did.”

“At least everyone’s okay,” said Jon. “And none of the work got damaged.”

“True,” said Tabby. He could see she still had other thoughts, something she wasn’t sharing, but he didn’t push. If she wanted to tell him, she would, without prodding.

“Will I see you tonight?” asked Jon.

Tabby sighed. “No,” she said. “We’re really close to results, so we’re trying to push to get it done tonight. Or at least see if we failed tonight. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Jon. “I understand. I’d be doing the same.”

“You’ll get there,” said Tabby. “I need to go.” She kissed him, and then she was gone.

Jon returned to work and tried to focus as they repeated their experiments. They waited to see if this time, the rats would regrow their limbs, without mutation, without the horror.

But his thoughts returned to Dr. Armitage. Of his family being abandoned on the surface. And of Shaw’s worse punishment.

Jon felt the tension in his chest. The heat sunk down from his face into his heart. The rage simmered there, and he put down the scalpel, grabbing a clipboard with a clutched hand. He squeezed it with all his might, but the metal didn’t bend or break, and so he threw it. The clipboard smashed against the far wall with a CLUNG, and then smacked to the ground. Neither were damaged.

Mel winced, squeezing herself together, waiting to see if Jon would throw anything else. Jon didn’t, only sitting down on a small lab stool, his head in his hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked, finally.

“I’m sorry,” said Jon. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m just so frustrated.”

It had been weeks since the meeting, weeks full of testing more and more serums, with more and more rats, all of them failures. All he saw behind his eyelids were mutated limbs and sedated animals, dissected to reveal nothing of value. Over and over again.

“I am too,” said Mel.

“I don’t know what to do,” said Jon.

“We can try changing the delivery system again,” said Mel. “Maybe if we switch back to the virus—”

“I really don’t think it’s that,” said Jon. “We’ve tried switching so many variables, and nothing is changing, not drastically. I think it’s a more foundational problem.”

“Meaning?” asked Mel.

“I don’t know,” said Jon. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but there is just no consistency. It’s maddening.”

Jon sighed. He thought back to Shaw’s words, of wanting results within a year’s time, and Jon would be lucky if he had gotten anything positive within that time span. It had been almost two months, and there was zero progress. He felt the pressure building up behind him. He hadn’t seen Tabby in weeks, aside from a quick lunch together here and there. He hadn’t heard from Maya either. He had continued to send her letters, and he hoped she was getting them. Tommy had settled into a routine and luckily had made a friend to play games with. It was the only silver lining.

“I’m going to get some water,” said Jon. He grabbed his bottle, to refill at the cooler, and headed toward it, out through his lab doors. The glass defrosted, and he walked. He turned the corner and saw the cooler.

Fuck.

Stone stood next to it, refilling his bottle as well, drinking from it before putting it back under the spigot. Jon thought to back off, to retreat, and wait for Stone to go back to his lab, but then he dismissed the notion. He wouldn’t run away. He wasn’t a child. He would get his water, and he would return to work.

Jon attempted a smile as Stone looked at him approaching, before putting his bottle under the other spigot, filling it. Stone towered over him.

“What was that noise I heard coming from your lab?” asked Stone, his deep voice humming. “I hope everything’s okay.”

“Everything is fine,” said Jon. “Just dropped something, and it knocked some stuff over.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard, though,” said Stone. “That everything is fine. I’ve heard you’ve gotten absolutely zero results in what, almost two months?”

Jon said nothing, only stared at the water level of his bottle.

Fill, goddamnit, fill.

“The Chosen One isn’t getting it done,” said Stone. “It really is a pity. Thought for sure you’d be in the special project lab by now. Shaw would have made sure of it, right? You are his pet, after all.”

That same heat returned in Jon’s chest. He squeezed his metal water bottle. He tried to breathe, to take control of his breath and his temper, but it resisted.

“But I guess he can’t do that unless you give him something , right? He can’t play favorites if you’re obviously incompetent,” said Stone.

Jon gritted his teeth, his bottle almost full. “I notice that you’re still in this lab as well,” said Jon. “I don’t really know how your research is doing, though. I don’t spend my time watching other people’s work. I mostly focus on my own.” Jon stood up, staring Stone in the eyes. Stone stared back.

“Some of us have to earn our way,” said Stone. “It takes more time. It’s harder. You wouldn’t know about that, being the pet and all. I mean, if I had gotten nothing in two months, I’d probably be out of here altogether. But here you are. Still chasing your pipe dreams.”

Jon fumed, but said nothing. He forced himself to turn around and return to his lab. He was giving Stone exactly what he wanted. The only thing that would shut him up would be results. He felt Stone’s eyes on him from behind, but he didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back, closing the doors behind him, the glass frosting.

“That son of a bitch,” said Jon, under his breath.

“That damn water cooler,” said Mel, sitting at her workstation. “That bastard.”

Jon sighed and finally cracked a slight smile. “It’s Stone. He was waiting there, like a bird of prey, ready to swoop down and pepper me with insults.”

“Yes,” said Mel. “All those hawks and falcons. They sure are cutting with their words.”

“Okay, well maybe my metaphor wasn’t perfect,” said Jon. “But he’s so infuriating. I want to hit him.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Mel. “Unless you have some secret fighting skill that I’m not aware of.”

“No,” said Jon. “I’ve never been in a fight.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Mel, dryly.

“Very funny,” said Jon. “What were we doing?”

“I think we were crying into our hands, lamenting our existence,” said Mel.

“No—” but then Jon’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see Sabrina’s name on the screen. He answered.

“Hello, Jon Matthews,” he said.

“Hello, Doctor,” said Sabrina, her voice clear. “Mr. Shaw requests your presence.”

“When?” asked Jon.

“As soon as possible,” said Sabrina.

“I’ll be right there,” said Jon, and the call ended.

“Who was that?” asked Mel.

“Shaw wants to see me,” said Jon. Jon’s mind went to Dr. Armitage, exiled on the surface. Of Stone’s recent words. But more than that, his thoughts went to the failures of his research in the lab.

Mel tried to force a smile, but largely failed. “Good luck.”

Shaw stood as Jon entered, extending his metallic hand, just like the first time. Jon shook it, shockingly cold to the touch.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice, Jon,” said Shaw. He smiled and sat back down behind his desk. He gestured to a chair in front of it, and Jon sat.