Moonlight Medicine: Inoculation (7 page)

When the mind-numbing scenery seemed to go on forever, Nicolas finally turned to the driver. “How long?”

“We’re about twenty kilometers out, Sir.”

In the back seat, Nicolas closed his eyes and thought about things that he would have to accomplish in the next few weeks, all of his tasks before the next lunar cycle. Unfortunately, he couldn’t focus solely on what the other packs were doing, so he would have to rely on others to watch them and report back. His main task was to make sure that the training centers were all at or near capacity and functioning as desired to increase the animal instincts of the strays and dampen their human tendencies. Without knowledge of what had been happening to them, and what was going to happen to them around the next full moon, control of the rage that accompanied the Wolfkin transformation was almost impossible, however, it was all but assured with the prior dehumanization. Since Taras preferred most of his pack to have little control during the change, so that none could best him in a challenge, it was a well-practiced strategy within the Vulke, and had served them well in the past.

In addition to checking the training facilities, Nicolas had to negotiate and secure a site for the battle to take place, and acquire transport to and from the site for all of the strays and other Vulke troops. The logistics of the fight would be tricky, and he would have to rely on the desire of the other packs to remain hidden from society at large and avoid killing innocents. His preference was to take the battle to Michigan, the heart of the Wahya pack, to make the Vulke triumph even more poignant, and he was certain that the other packs would agree thinking they would have the best advantage there.

The car pulled off the expressway and drove down several surface streets that went from ugly and dangerous city streets to a less populated industrial area to an abandoned manufacturing plant at the end of a crumbling concrete drive. They parked inside an old supply shed to mask their presence. Two other beat-up vans with darkly tinted windows were already in the shed, but other than the hidden vehicles there were no outward signs of occupation. Nicolas was pleased by this, and smiled as he exited the vehicle and followed the driver a short distance to the main building. The metal door boasted a new and formidable lock, and the driver reached into the pocket of his cargo pants and extracted a key that was attached to the garment by a keyring on a length of elastic. He pulled the elastic tight as he unlocked the door, and he carefully replaced the key in his pocket as he pulled the door open, its creaking metal hinges making a harsh sound that echoed loudly in the vast hollow interior of the building. The man entered first and motioned Nicolas to follow him, then shut the door quickly behind them, relocking it with the key.

While the man worked to secure the door, Nicolas took in the interior of the building. They were in an entry hallway that was only separated from the rest of the building by metal walls that fell well short of the three story tall ceiling, and was lit solely by the natural light coming through distant windows far up on the exterior walls. The floor was dirty concrete and the hallway led to another metal door with a small broken window. As they approached the second door a man’s face appeared in the window space. He was pale with dark circles under his eyes, prodigious scruff on his face, and dark, greasy hair that hadn’t seen a shower in several days. A surly demeanor went along with his unkempt appearance, but as Nicolas got closer to the door the sour look on his face was replaced by one of respect and not a little fear.

“Sir, welcome, we are ready for your inspection.”

The grubby man reached through the window and hurried to unlock the inner door with a key from the outside. When he had the door unlocked he held it wide for the other two men to enter, and Nicolas noted that the inner deadbolt latch was missing. Again he approved since it would be difficult for anyone to enter or exit the building via this door without having both the key to the inner door and the key to the outer door. He only hoped that his men were smart enough not to allow one individual to have both keys. Nicolas filed it away as a minor detail that he would ask about later, but for now he was anxious to see the rest of the facility.

The inner door opened up to a larger area of the factory floor which was littered with various bits of old, rusty machinery and metal drums. In one corner was a cot with a threadbare blanket and lumpy pillow, near that a microwave had been set up on one of the drums next to a small, humming refrigerator. The only other sign of inhabitance was a lopsided table with a single metal folding chair. There were two open doorways at the far end of the area and one about midway along the left side. After the guard closed and locked the door he turned and led Nicolas and his driver towards one of the openings at the far end. As they passed the opening on the left wall, Nicolas noted that it was a bathroom lacking a door. The doorway that the guard led them to revealed a stairwell with metal steps leading both up and down.

“Go down two flights then turn right and go down the hallway until you get to the elevator. Take that down another three floors. Sasha will be waiting there to give you the tour.”

Nicolas and his companion followed the guard’s instructions and were greeted by a man in black fatigues as they exited the elevator. Nicolas guessed this was Sasha, and even before the man spoke, Nicolas hated his wide, smug smile. His unctuous and disrespectful behavior reminded Nicolas of his old business partner whose betrayal had landed Nicolas in a Siberian Gulag camp.

“Nicolas! Such an honor to have you here to take a tour of our little operation. My name is Sasha and I am in charge here. I am sure that you will find everything to your liking. We have a nearly full capacity of thirty-two male whelps. We did have a few women initially, but sadly they didn’t last very long.”

Sasha shook his head in mock sorrow and Nicolas internally cursed the man for his idiocy. Sure the women strays were not as strong as the men, but were capable of eliciting a measure of sympathy in the battlefield and were going to be necessary in the long term to grow pack numbers in a purer fashion.

“That’s unfortunate.”

Sasha either didn’t pick up on Nicolas’s displeasure or was ignoring it. “Truly. Well, let us not delay the tour any longer, although you will have to wait until nightfall to observe an actual training session. We do them only at night, so the whelps don’t even see a sliver of daylight.”

Sasha bragged as if this had been his own personal brainchild, when Nicolas was the one who suggested it when the training centers were first being talked about and designed. Nicolas vowed that he would do all in his power to see that Sasha and his strays were right at the front of the line when the fighting started, and could only hope that the man’s overconfidence and bravado would get him killed.

12

Clem’s voice, though weak and rough through the receiver, was still unmistakably his.

“It’s so wonderful to hear your voice!”

“Well, they tell me that I’m im-prov-ing daily. And don’t you worry yourself none, I’ll be fit to fight when the time comes.”

“Well, I’ll have something to say about that. You’ll do absolutely nothing but rest without a full examination and my express permission.”

“Now Evie, I’m a grown werewolf,” Clem paused, racked by a harsh coughing spell then continued, “and I’ll do as I dang well please…but if you’re lookin’ for an excuse to visit, I’m not gonna stop ya.”

Evelyn chuckled.

“Or I could come visit you jest as soon as my other jail- ah, ah, I mean caretaker, caretaker—jeez Karen, I’m still re-co-ver-ing here!—lets me. But if you do decide to have a visit, we’re back in Kare’s house and don’t you worry too much about any un-in-vi-ted guest, if you guess my meanin’.” Another coughing fit resulted in a softer, thinner tone from Clem. “Good ole’ Gabe installed a fancy alarm system, and a big part of it’s a new German shepherd “puppy,” as Robbie likes to call him, that jest happens to be a beast weighing a good one-hundred and fifty pounds.”

“Well, I hope you don’t expect free veterinary care.”

“Nah…”

More coughing echoed in Evelyn’s ears.

“Sorry, Evie, but I’ma being ordered to rest up now.”

“Well, I’ll let you go then, but I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Right. You take care ‘o’ yourself and your Alphaman ‘till then, okey dokey?”

“I will. And you just get better.”

“That’s…plan A.”

“Bye, Clem.”

“So long, Evie.”

A warm feeling of relief spread through Evelyn after her conversation with Clem. To have him healing from his horrific ordeal so soon was nothing short of a miracle, though she knew he was probably pushing himself too hard to recover. Yet she had little time to enjoy the bit of good news in the face of other more urgent concerns like getting back into a lab and researching again.

As the meeting with Dr. Jonson drew near, Evelyn’s stomach began to flutter. There really wasn’t any reason to be nervous, since he had offered to help them, but she still didn’t cherish the thought of invading his lab. The good news was that his research focus was brucellosis, a venereal disease in cattle that also happened to be zoonotic, so his lab would have a similar level of biosecurity as a rabies lab and the general protocols that she had used in her own lab, although she’d had to ramp it up due to the DNA sequencing to avoid contamination of the DNA sequences. Evelyn guessed that with recent advances in brucellosis research, the lab would also do a fair amount of DNA sequencing. However, the big difference was it would probably be animal DNA which had no chance of being contaminated by the DNA of the humans handling it. Her brain jogged through possible solutions, but the best would be having separate rooms for DNA extraction, quantification and PCR preparation, and the quantification and sequencing of the DNA. Her own lab had actually been suboptimal in that she had only been able to separate the procedures into different corners of the room, and that might have to suffice again.

Adding to Evelyn’s stress was the new and daunting task of getting ready for the lab meeting in conjunction with Kim with some semblance of a normal routine. Fortunately, they were able to stagger their breakfasts and showers such that they didn’t get in each other’s way too badly. David, however, was left on the outside of the bathroom grumbling until the girls had both finished with it. At first miffed at not being included in the lab group anymore, he didn’t complain much after Evelyn and he sat down and they agreed on how important it was that he gather more information about the strays so that they could figure out a way to stop the spread of the mutant.

As she and Kim were pulling out onto the street to go to the meeting, Evelyn’s thoughts raced between her conversation with Clem the previous night and concerns about the new lab. She felt like she needed to take time to see Clem, but knew that it was impossible until the new lab was at least up and running smoothly. In just under ten minutes, the pair pulled into the parking lot of the Children’s Garden across the street from the veterinary school and Evelyn bought special tokens for the meter which allowed them to park there for a mere three dollars an hour. Evelyn had decided that the best way to enter the clinic clandestinely was through one of the large back doors that were typically open mid-morning for cleaning out the large animal stalls, so they jaywalked across the street and crossed the large animal clinic parking lot to reach the open doors and slipped inside. Within were the wide, high-ceilinged, barn-like halls of the large animal clinic with stalls on both sides. Since she didn’t practice on large animals, Evelyn had not been in this part of the building since graduating from vet school but it was important to look like you knew where you were going, so she marched on until reaching a vaguely familiar area that led her to the proper stairwell to take them down into the basement. There were a few prestigious laboratories that garnered more public interest and funding on the top floors of the building, but Evelyn knew that most of the labs, especially ones that might be targeted by groups like PETA were tucked down in the basement of the school.

They turned a corner and came to a sealed door with a punch code pad under the knob. Evelyn pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket, dialed in the needed code, and the door popped open with a beep and a click. She held the door for Kim and the other woman strode through it into the hallway beyond. Dr. Jonson’s lab proved to be the second to last one down a dim and neglected-feeling corridor that Evelyn knew few people had ever set foot in. The door to the lab was closed, but knocking produced Dr. Jonson himself with a half-eaten ham sandwich in his hand.

“Ah, Dr. Eisenhart I presume, I’m Dr. Jonson.” He shifted his sandwich to his left hand and held the lab door open with his foot to shake Evelyn’s hand. “And this is…?”

“My lab assistant Kim, er…” Evelyn began.

“Kim Panders,” Kim finished extending her hand.

Dr. Jonson shook it and then opened the door wider so that the two ladies could enter the lab. “Please, follow me on this side of the yellow line. I have a small office just there.”

Evelyn did not approve of the professor eating in his work space, but did appreciate that he at least tried to keep the contamination contained from the rest of the lab. The lab wasn’t small, but it was going to be a little bit of a tight fit for both sets of research to go on simultaneously. Sadly, the equipment was mostly dated, but there were a few newer pieces scattered throughout, and once she gave Roberto a list of what she needed, there would be more. Surprisingly there weren’t any students around, but the more Evelyn thought about it, it wasn’t that strange. First and second year vet students would generally have classes well into the late afternoon and third and fourth year students would be at their clinical rotations until 5:00p.m. at the very earliest.
Maybe we can work in the mornings?

Kim and Evelyn followed Dr. Jonson into his tiny, cluttered office and sat down in chairs that appeared, judging by the dust impressions on the green, vinyl seats, to have been recently cleared and their contents piled next to them. The professor took another bite of his sandwich and then settled himself into his desk chair.