Don Pendleton - Nightmare Army

“Yes, sir. Yours is the third complaint I’ve received, and maintenance is already looking into it. I’ll pass on the status update as soon they get back to me. Also, I just received word from the lab that they’re ready to begin the next round of tests.”

“Good, I’ll be there shortly.” Richter closed his computer and tucked it under his arm. With a grimace, he glanced at the roof above him one last time, as if willing it to stay up long enough for him to get out of the room. Rising from his desk, he left his cramped office and walked into the even more cramped hallway.

His backers had built the complex to be sturdy—at least, that’s what they had told him—but the German was forced to stoop as he walked, so that his balding head wouldn’t hit the ceiling. He was slightly concerned that he would develop a permanent hunch from the past five months of work.

After this, I’m due a long vacation, he thought, maybe somewhere sunny and bright instead of humid and hot all the time.

The idea cheered him a bit and he nodded to the other white-lab-coated men and women he passed as he headed for the main laboratory.

He stopped only once before passing two security men half carrying one of the test subjects—a quivering young African male—between them, with another technician trailing them.

“Hold it.” Richter thumbed back the sagging youth’s eyelid, revealing an eye that had rolled back into his head. “Where’d he come from?”

“He’s the security breach we recaptured at 2100 last night,” the tech said. “Filmed him killing a full-grown leopard out in the jungle. Emailed you the video this morning.”

“Right.” Richter pressed fingers to the young man’s neck. “Erratic heartbeat. I don’t like that. Place him in the guarded ICU and monitor his condition for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Yes, sir.” The three men left with their prisoner, and Richter continued on his way.

Arriving at his destination, Richter entered the airlock, waiting for the doors to close. He walked to the center of the small corridor, where a powerful stream of antiseptic air washed over him, removing any small biological organisms that might contaminate the lab. When the tone sounded, indicating his cleansing cycle was completed, he stepped into the next room.

The laboratory was state-of-the-art, with a half dozen of the current shift’s white-coated scientists working at computer stations and lab tables. One of them, a tall, Nordic-looking blond woman, noticed his entrance and walked over.

“Good afternoon, Doctor. Here to witness the next test?”

“Correct.”

“Good, we’re about to start. Follow me, please.” She led him to the other side of the laboratory, where a large, thick pane of laminated glass separated them from the occupants in the other room.

Richter watched as the first creature in the room roamed around. It was a chimpanzee, about three years old, circling the perimeter of the bare, five-meter by five-meter room with apprehension in its eyes.

“This is a young male, captured two weeks ago, weighing ninety-three pounds and measuring forty-five inches tall. We’ve limited its calorie intake and have taken steps to ensure a suitable aggressive reaction to the second test subject.”

A door slid open on the right side and a slender black man wearing a pair of white shorts and a T-shirt was prodded through the door, which slid closed behind him. The chimp’s head swiveled to stare at the newcomer, whose eyes also locked on the animal. The chimpanzee rose, standing on its back legs and supporting its front body on its knuckles. It bared its teeth at the man, who looked confused for a moment.

The blond woman spoke, not taking her eyes off the window. “The primate senses that something isn’t right with the human subject.”

“When does the reaction start, Dr. Estvaan?”

“Any moment n—”

She hadn’t even completed her sentence when the two creatures in the room exploded into action. The man’s face turned into a rictus of rage that suffused his features, his lips peeling back from his teeth in a savage snarl, his fingers outstretched into curled talons as he rushed at the chimpanzee. The animal stood on its hind legs and charged, screaming in rage, its fangs also bared.

“Normally the chimpanzee has the advantage, since it is five times as strong as the average human, despite being outweighed by fifty pounds.” Dr. Estvaan sounded as though she might be discussing two Olympic wrestlers. “But watch.”

The two combatants clashed in the middle of the room. The chimp established early dominance with its opposable hands on the lower legs clamping onto the man’s torso while its upper set of hands grabbed the head of its soon-to-be victim as it zoomed in to bite at the vulnerable face.

Usually that would have been the end of it. However before the chimp could attack, the man’s hand swiped down with inhuman speed, raking the animal across the eyes and causing it to screech in pain. The man continued his attack, curling his hand into a fist and battering it against the monkey’s skull again and again, his hand blurring with the effort. The chimpanzee rocked back with each punch.

“Subjects have been observed to break their fingers and dislocate their wrists and elbows from repeated forceful blows against their targets,” Dr. Estvaan stated, jotting notes on her tablet.

The chimpanzee’s hands tore at the man, scoring a hit on his genitals and twisting hard, but the man didn’t stop his frenzied assault. He lunged forward, sinking his teeth into the side of the chimpanzee’s neck and savaging it with all his might.

The chimpanzee screamed in agony and redoubled its efforts, grabbing one of the man’s ears and tearing it off his head. But its struggles grew weaker as bright red blood spurted from the terrible wound in its neck. It brought around its right fist, the fingers covered in blood, trying to smash the man’s temple. Without stopping his attack on the chimp’s throat, the man’s left hand rose to block the attack, his open palm meeting the monkey’s arm whistling through the air and stopping it cold.

The chimpanzee struggled to extricate its hand, the muscles shaking with strain as it tried to free itself, while the man’s hand closed around the chimp’s fist, squeezing it tighter and tighter. The chimp now shook all over, its ropy muscles spasming as it went into shock. It moaned once, then its head flopped back.

The man shoved the chimpanzee’s body off him and stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving as he sucked air in through his gore-caked mouth, his own blood mingling with his victim’s to spatter on the floor.

“First assault to critical wound in eight point nine seconds.” Dr. Estvaan noted that data on her tablet. “Impressive.”

“Yes, yes, the lethality results of the compound have been noted a dozen times. It is the next phase that is critical. Are your men ready?”

Estvaan tapped her earpiece. “Send them in.”

The door the man had come through slid open again and a man dressed in heavy padding and ballistic protection, with a riot helmet and visor on his head, appeared in the doorway. The test subject whirled, his dilated eyes locking on the new person. His nostrils flared as he scented the air, a low growl building in his throat, then he crouched and leaped to attack. The new man fired a pair of darts into his assailant’s chest, then ducked back behind the door, which began to close. The subject hit the barrier and forced his arm through the shrinking hole to block it. Bracing himself against the wall, he began levering the door open.

“Do we have a problem?” Richter asked, setting down his laptop.

Estvaan pointed. “No, look—the energy is draining out of him even now. However, he does not pass out as the early subjects did. The drug is containing him, for lack of a better term.”