Read Doomsday Exam [BUREAU 13 Book Two] Online
Authors: Nick Pollotta
Crimson pooled around the sluggishly twitching body, and the moaning of Gamma began to weaken. If there was time, Alpha would have gladly stayed to rip out the throat of his fallen enemy, but Beta was pounding on the door trying to get out, and he had to give chase.
Ignited by the sparks, flames followed the trail of spilled chemicals across the room to the workbench, igniting the massed collection of bubbling retorts. Vials cracked and beakers exploded spewing the blaze everywhere, fire racing along a trickle of clear fluid rapidly extending towards the door to the Supply Room.
Screaming in rage and fear, Beta yanked the steel handle off the exit jamming it closed permanently. Out of control, the humanoid smashed his fist into the door denting the metal. Sucking his bruised knuckles, Beta spun about and Alpha was upon him!
Locked in mortal combat, the two rolled about in the debris, biting, clawing and kicking. Foreheads butted into jaws as teeth sought throats. Fingernails gouged flesh, leaving only shallow furrows, but the damage was minimal. They were too equally matched, and each knew the fight could last forever! Suddenly remembering the dent in the door made by the closed hand of the other male, Alpha risked everything and jerked away from his opponent to slam a closed fist directly into the chest of his opponent.
Going stiff, the face of Beta contorted in a silent scream. Then opening his hand, Alpha grabbed whatever he could inside and yanked the beating organs out of the other's quivering body. Arms flapping wildly, Beta slumped to the ground, dark blood gushing from the hideous gaping wound. Casting aside the fistful of guts, Alpha proudly stood and finally allowed himself the full-throated roar of victory so long denied.
As if in reply, the room violently shook to an even louder thunder, pieces of the stone roof beginning to fall. Flame was everywhere! Billowing clouds of smoke blocked his vision. Frantic at the sight f the blaze, Alpha dashed into the private office of the chief scientist and bodily threw himself through the plate glass observation window.
Bleeding from a dozen cuts, Alpha limped down the burning hallway trying to find escape but there was only chaos and stifling heat. Little thunder! Fire! Big thunder. Pain! Then a deep blackness swallowed him whole.
Slowly, Alpha awoke in a bed in a small metal room, the likes of which he was unfamiliar with, although the majority of the equipment lining the walls and roof he could identify as medical repair tools. He was wearing loose cloth.
"Be still, buddy,” an elderly woman said, holding his wrist with her fingertips. “You got pretty battered when the lab exploded."
Buddy
? Alpha went very quiet. Human. They thought he was a fellow human being.
The female was draped in white, with colored cloth underneath. In her pockets were metal things that he did not recognize. “Now this may hurt,” the female warned, as she gently lifted the cloth to inspect the bloody bandages on his stomach.
Why was this female acting as a mother? Alpha was confused. He was in no pain.
"My God!” the female cried. “Orderly, come here!"
Stepping through a curtain appeared another male also dressed in white and wearing bits of glass on his face. “What is it, doctor?"
Suddenly, Alpha understood. Ah, she was a scientist! That explained her interest in his body. He could smell the excitement from her, but why was it tainted with fear?
"Look at these wounds!” she ordered.
Crowding close, the male knelt and touched the metal hair holding the pieces of glass. “But I don't see any damage."
"Exactly!” the doctor declared, lowering the sheet. Sitting on the other gurney, she stared hard at Alpha. “You, sir, should be in blood loss trauma. But now, Christ almighty, I don't understand..."
Just then, Alpha had an odd feeling of moving to the right and of slowing down. He did not understand how this could be, he was not moving. Wait, perhaps he was. This must be a truck. He was in some sort of a medical truck!
There came a rubbery squeal, and several metallic clacks from the front of the medical truck. Then the curtains parted, and Alpha could see yet another male seated at a control board with a big window. Although dressed similar to the other male, this man had the feel of a warrior and there was no smell of fear.
"Driver, I didn't order you to stop the ambulance,” the female snapped. “What is the meaning of this?"
"Everybody out,” he commanded.
The female was furious. “What! Why?"
Wordlessly, the driver took a small black animal skin flap from his pants and showed them a pointy metal thing that resembled a star in the sky. The old female and young male bowed with respect to this totem and dutifully left the ambulance, slamming the door closed behind them.
Pulling on a tiny stick at the bottom of his chair, the male swiveled about to face Alpha directly. “Recognition code: Hercules,” he said with great meaning.
"Sir?” Alpha asked, his stomach a knot of ice.
"Don't play innocent with me, soldier,” the driver said, displaying the totem again. “I'm Scott Willis, FBI. I know about the Pentagon research being done at this secret lab.” Willis lowered his voice. “The supersoldier serum. That's why I'm here, to keep a quiet eye on things for the president."
Greatly frightened, Alpha remained quiet. This was obviously a male of much importance. Maybe he should bare his hindquarters to him as a show of respect.
"When they first hauled your body in here, I had thought you were a member of the staff, or maybe a guard,” Willis said, returning the totem to a fold in his cloth. “But plainly I was wrong. Your healing rate is fantastically increased, and I can see the imprints of your hands in the metal railing of the gurney from when you were unconscious. That's magnified strength."
Licking his lips, Alpha said nothing.
The FBI agent leaned closer. “You're one of the Marines who volunteered as a human test subject for the serum, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir,” Alpha answered truthfully. “I have been injected with the serum."
Frowning deeply, Scott clasped hands on top of his knees. “Okay, son. What the hell happened tonight?"
"There was a fight,” Alpha said hesitantly, “And I had to destroy the lab to protect it from falling into the wrong hands.” So easily did the near lie come to him. This was another aspect of evolution?
"What do you mean by wrong hands?” Willis demanded. “Enemy agents? Terrorists?"
"One of the other subjects decided that he was greater than human, and we should conquer the world."
"Megalomania,” Agent Willis sighed, sitting upright. “We were afraid that something like that would happen. Homo Sapiens versus Homo Superior. Strategy and Tactical says it would be a short, bloody war, with them winning."
Not fully understanding, Alpha nodded his head in the affirmative.
Willis let his pink fingers do a spider dance on the cloth-covered leg. “The notes? Papers? Samples?” he asked.
"Destroyed, sir."
"Then you're probably the only one. Maybe the only supersoldier there will ever be."
"Seems likely, sir,” Alpha replied.
Special Agent Willis gave a wry grin. “What's your name, soldier?"
Experimental Test Subject Alpha
, was what he almost said. “I don't know, sir."
"Eh? Explain that."
"Everything before the injection is a blur.” At least, that was the truth.
Outside, another car rolled past the parked ambulance as Willis scowled at the big patient for a moment. “With the files destroyed we may never learn your name, or even which military outfit we should notify,” he said, reclining in the chair. “So what we have here is a soldier with superhuman abilities, no memory, a top secret clearance and who is believed dead. Plus, somebody whose return to society could cause serious trouble for the Pentagon. Son, you're a prime candidate for the Bureau."
"Sir?” Alpha asked confused.
Lighting a cigarette, Scott exhaled a long stream of smoke and explained. Long ago it became apparent that supernatural, paranormal, transdimensional and even unearthly dangers actually threatened the real-life security of the American people. So the government had established a covert agency to protect the population from these bizarre and often deadly events.
The organization was called Bureau 13. As public knowledge of magic and monsters would cause nation wide panic, the organization kept itself and all operations totally secret. Not even the President knew exactly who they were, what they did, or where the agency was located. Bureau agents were specially trained, had incredible equipment and were sometimes themselves unique.
Much of what the driver said meant nothing. But several words came through clear. This male was a guard of the big human tribe called America. Thoughtfully, Alpha fingered the badly healing scar on his cheek from the floor-s-scent light.
Grinding out the butt in the ashtray, Willis said, “Now if the Pentagon was aware that the serum worked, even partially, they would continue the experiments, and next time there may not be anyway to stop the mutants."
Mutants
. Alpha filed the word away. That's what he was.
"Do you understand what it is I am saying?” Willis asked pointedly.
Slow comprehension came, and Alpha nodded, “You are going to kill me,” he stated bluntly. “I ... I will not resist, sir."
Brushing back his hair, Willis ruefully smiled. “Thanks, but I would rather recruit you. The Bureau can always use a man of your talents and abilities."
Recruit. That word Alpha knew. “You wish for me to join this Bureau and assist in guarding America?"
"Yep."
In a well of feelings, Alpha was overcome with emotion and nearly fainted from the very concept. A warrior for the entire human race. The responsibility was enormous! Staggering! His heart beat so loud in his tiny chest, he thought the ribs would break. Kin fought for kin, and he was human now. Blood of their blood, flesh of their flesh.
In a rush of strength, Alpha sat up on the gurney, his head almost hitting the high ceiling. “I am ready, sir,” he said proudly, giving a shaky salute.
Gently laughing, the driver took the hand and shook it. Respeftfully, Alpha was very careful not to squeeze in return and hurt the master.
"Welcome to the Bureau, friend,” Agent Willis said with a grin. “I can only thank god that you stayed loyal."
"Yes,” Alpha agreed, looking into the eyes of the human male. “Thank you, god."
TOPSECRETTOPSECRETTOPSECRET
Good morning, Cadet Ken Sanders!
No, we did not break into your apartment to print this message on the back of your sugar-toasties box. The Bureau has ways much more subtle than such physical crudities. Please, continue you breakfast—such as it is.
Like every student at this training school, you have passed the first, and primary, requirement for entrance into Bureau 13: experiencing a supernatural phenomenon, and surviving. Believe me, everything from here on is downhill compared to that.
FYI: Although Bureau 13 is a duly authorized sub-division of the Justice Department, we are basically autonomous and answer to nobody but the current division chief. Occasionally, the President also, but even he has only limited power over us.
There is no known headquarters for the Bureau. Our teams of agents roam the country on regular routes, keeping tabs on known troublemakers and investigating any unusual events that occur in their assigned territory. These independent agents alone decide upon neutralization, assimilation, capture, or termination. Part of the training here will be to read past cases of the Bureau to familiarize yourself with set operational procedures.
But please remember, there are no precedents for any given situation. Each case is unique and must be handled individually upon its own merits. A werewolf may be some poor innocent soul driven mad by the inhuman desires torturing their mind, and will happily accept our assistance. We have anti-lycanthropy drugs. On the other hand, a beautiful, but demonic, toothfairy yanking molars from the mouths of tiny children should be gunned down without a qualm. End of discussion.
On a personal note: I have discovered your true identity Alpha, and after due deliberation, have subsequently destroyed all references to your past, origin and initiation. Lt. Colonel Kensington Sanders is part of the Bureau now, and we take care of our own. Besides, we mutants got to stick together.
That's about everything. The rest will be learned in class over the next six weeks and later on in the field with the team you are assigned to. Note: despite every horror story that you may hear about the final exam, only ten students have ever died in the 145 years the Academy has been operating and in memoriam each was given a passing grade.
POP QUIZ ALERT! In 500 words or less, please submit a paper to your morning karate instructor as to why the latter may be a joke used to elevate your fears, and then submit another as to why it is definitely not a joke to your afternoon CPR/First Aid teacher.
Good luck. Keep your head low. Glad to have you with us!
Cordially,
Horace Gordon
Division Chief, Bureau 13.
PS: No, you do not have to destroy the box. This message will revert to normal in four seconds.
PPS: Your toast is burning.
TOPSECRETTOPSECRETTOPSECRET
Krunchy! Tasty! With a free whistle
!
Waiting for a friend to arrive, I was standing on a street corner in downtown Chicago when a ton of glass showered down upon me. Staggering under the brutal impacts, I was driven gasping to my knees. My hat and sports jacket were slashed to ribbons and only the presence of my Bureau 13 issue body armor saved my life.
I barely had time to register these facts before something smashed onto the nearby pavement with a terrible wet crunch, blood spraying everywhere.
Forcing myself to look, I noted the tattered uniform on the pulped lump, dark blue with black stripes. Oh, hell, it was a fellow cop. That was when I heard the screams and gunfire from above.