Lords of Trillium (25 page)

Shaking his head, Walter straightened out his lab coat and smoothed back his hair. His face was pale and devoid of emotion, his eyes wandering over the chaotic lab. “Charlotte, who do you think has been funding this project? People—important people with power—will be the first to double their lifespans, regain their youth, perhaps even live forever. Who do you think would have the most to gain from that?”

“You mean the government is—”

Walter held up his hand, silencing her. “Charlotte, none of that matters now.”

“But don't you want me to call someone? Shouldn't we call the police, or at least contact someone at Prince?”

“No,” he said flatly. “Police are not necessary . . . and I will deal with Prince myself.” He stepped over a pile of rats and picked up his broken spectacles from the floor. He studied them while he spoke. “I trust that as usual you're the last person here.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Her eyes scanned the lab longingly.

He finally looked at her. “Charlotte, I need you to document this. We need to ensure this drug never comes to fruition . . . not after what we've witnessed.”

“We could start again, though,” said Dr. Sheppard. “Maybe this time—”

“No,” said Walter, cutting her off. “This drug has been my life's work, and it's caused nothing but pain and suffering. It all started with Serena. Even back then we were trying to harness the power of that volcano . . . and look where that got us. Many people suffered, not just our test subjects.”

Dr. Sheppard swallowed hard. “You're right, Doctor.” She looked up at the open cages and then down at the floor. The camcorder was smashed to pieces, lying next to a group of crumpled bats.

Walter followed her gaze. He took a phone from his lab coat and handed it to her. “Use mine. Prince gave it to me . . . high-tech imagery.” He nodded at the camcorder. “Better than that old thing.”

Holding back her tears, she took the phone and began recording the scene.

“I think I got it all,” said Dr. Sheppard. “This should be powerful footage.”

“And that's exactly what we're looking for,” said Walter, “something that will make the executives understand they must stop this madness.”

A Crazy One screeched from the back row of cages. “What do you make of the other rats, though?” asked Dr. Sheppard. “How do you think they're still alive?”

“That's simple,” Walter replied. “They went mad. We stopped giving them the drug.”

“Oh . . . of course,” said Dr. Sheppard, shaking her head. “I'm not thinking straight.”

“Nor should you be, not after what you've seen tonight. You are a brilliant scientist and I consider you a friend, but Charlotte, I think it's time you moved on. Clearly there's nothing here for you now.” He forced a smile. “Consider yourself laid off.”

She swallowed again and gathered her things. She held out the phone to Walter. “Your phone, Doctor.”

“No, I need you to keep it. Give a copy of the footage to every news team in town. This is your chance to do the right thing, to save lives. We're both doctors, Charlotte. We both took an oath which we swore to fulfill to the best of our ability and judgment. We swore to do no harm, and that means stopping others from doing it as well. This footage will help ensure that.” He looked at her intently and then down at the dead animals.

Nodding, Dr. Sheppard put the phone in her pocket. She headed for the door, turning back just before she opened it. “Doctor, what are you going to do now? As you said, this was your life's work.”

“I told you earlier, our findings come at a price. It's high time I paid it.”

Walter milled around the lab, agitated and edgy. Stepping over dead creatures, he wrung his hands. He headed for the door, but quickly turned back. He began picking up all his fallen papers, clutching them haphazardly in his arms.

“Juniper,” whispered Billycan as they lay still, “your satchel. I need it.”

“What for?”

“Please, just give it to me.”

“Very well,” Juniper replied. He eyed Walter, who was racing hastily about the lab, snatching up papers near the bat cage. Juniper rolled over, grabbed his satchel, and slid it over to Billycan, who concealed it under his stomach. “What do you want my satchel for?”

“I don't want your blasted satchel,” said Billycan with a wily grin. “I just happen to need it. Infernal thing has only been a nuisance to me. Cost me the High Ministry, to be sure.”

“I hope you're joking,” said Juniper, raising an eyebrow.

“Must I remind you who saved your grizzled old hide from Hecate?”

Juniper chuckled softly. “
You
did, brother.”

“Now, then,” said Billycan, “you must get all these tragically departed creatures—along with their unfortunate acting skills—out of here. The minute he leaves, you lead the charge. If anyone can organize rats to get somewhere they're not supposed to be, it's you. You can save them.”

“But what about you?”

“What about me?” asked Billycan. “If you hadn't noticed, I can take care of myself.”

“I can't just leave you here. You saved all of us from Killdeer's sisters. You saved Nightshade from Hecate. Billycan, it's
my
turn now . . . to save you.”

Billycan looked at all the rats and bats strewn around him, remembering every crime he'd ever committed. The pain and guilt would always remain. He reached for Juniper's paw and grasped it in his own. “You save all of them, you save me.”

Walter seemed to be done collecting his papers. He was headed toward the door.

“Now then, get them out of here,” said Billycan. “I can't stand to look at their limp bodies any longer.” He eyed a plump bat sprawled out a few inches from him. “You know how I like bat.”

“I'm not going to see you again, am I?”

“Stranger things have happened, haven't they?” Billycan touched the raised black scar that traveled across his snout. “You and I are not carving each other's eyes out or ripping apart each other's snouts, for one thing.”

“I couldn't hurt you now any more than I could hurt Julius or Nomi. We're family. You are my brother.”

“That I am.”

Juniper and Billycan lay still as Walter made his way to the door. As soon as Walter's white lab coat disappeared into the dark, Billycan bolted to his feet. “Another time, then, brother.” With a devilish smirk he winked at Juniper, climbed swiftly up a row of cages, whipped around a corner, and was gone.

W
ALTER DIDN'T RUN
, but walked at a determined pace. Whatever doubt or confusion he had felt in the lab seemed to have melted away. He'd taken all his scientific papers, all the documents that could help Prince start up its research again, down to the incinerator and burned them to ashes.

As the elevator climbed, he looked down at the metal cart he was returning with. He wondered how many victims of his research had lain on it, all cold and stiff. This would be the last time he'd ever have to use it, and for that he was relieved.

Animals didn't have souls. As a doctor, a man of science, that was something he was taught to believe, something he would swear to around others, but in truth he never believed it. How could he? The rats he worked with over the years were too smart, too clever, to not have some sort of spirit within them. Every time more of his research subjects died, so did a piece of him . . . the piece of him that wanted to believe, the
piece of him that knew what he was doing was very, very wrong.

He was glad it was finally over.

He pushed the cart out of the elevator and back to the darkened lab. He unlocked the door and hit the switches. The light panels flickered on, causing a few of the Crazy Ones to stir in their cages.

Walter's mouth fell open. He dropped the key card from his trembling hand and froze in his tracks.

All the creatures that had lain dead on the floor mere moments ago had vanished.

Amid the broken equipment and smashed vials and beakers, Walter wiped off his seat with a cloth, sending shards of glass to the floor. He sat down and took in the scene. Where did all the dead creatures go? Who took them? They didn't just get up and walk away.

He exhaled heavily, glancing at the row of empty cages next to his desk. He looked at the one that had held the two gray rats he'd taken a shine to. They'd sat right next to him every day as he toiled through his research.

The hairs on Walter's neck suddenly stood on end. There was a rat in the cage. It was in shadow, but Walter could see it moving in the back.

He tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of it. “Hey there, fella. It's okay, you can come out.”

Juniper's satchel strapped over his chest, Billycan walked slowly to the front of the cage, on two feet, something he'd never done in front of a human. He pushed open the metal door and stepped out. He stood before Walter.

Instinctively Walter pulled back from the rat. He was
expecting one of the two grays. This was an albino, a rather large one, standing on two feet, no less. Was this creature senseless like the rats on the other side of the wall, just waiting to attack him? The rat didn't move. Unlike the sickly rats, its eyes did not wander aimlessly. Its body did not twitch or spasm. It looked quite thoughtful actually, staring at him.

He leaned in cautiously, trying to get a better look. “You've been through a lot, haven't you?” he said in a soothing tone, noticing the thick black scar running down the rat's snout. “I bet you've got some stories to tell.” Just then Walter noticed the rat had something strapped to it, something brown and leathery. “What have you got there, fella?”

Billycan opened Juniper's satchel and reached inside. He felt around for a moment until he found what he was looking for. Carefully he took a step forward and placed the silver disk in front of Walter.

Confounded by the vision of the gift-bearing rat before him, Walter covered his mouth and stared at Billycan, thunderstruck. Billycan took another step closer and pushed the silver disk toward Walter with his foot.

Walter looked at Billycan and then down at the object. Gingerly he picked up the silver disk and held it in his palm. He looked down at it and read the number, and then his eyes darted back to Billycan. “It's . . . it's not possible,” he whispered. His voice was taut and dry. “But I thought you'd died in the fire . . . or were exterminated afterward . . . Billy?”

Billycan smiled. He didn't know how a rat smile looked to a human, but he didn't care. Walter knew who he was. He remembered him.

“Bless the Saints,” said Walter. Tears welled in his eyes. “I knew—or at least I thought I knew—that there was much more
to you rats than met the eye, but how could I be sure?” He smiled feebly. “Billy-
can
 . . . remember that? Because I thought you could do anything. You were special. I wonder, are the other rats as clever as you?” Billycan nodded. Walter laughed out loud. “You just nodded at me.” He took in a jagged breath, and then let it out. “You understand me! This is remarkable. I never—” His words suddenly halted. He looked at the destruction around him and then back at Billycan. “You . . . you tricked us, didn't you—all of you?” He ran a hand over his face and laughed again. “None of you were dead. You escaped! Humans bamboozled by animals!” He got down very close to Billycan and looked into his eyes. “You are as smart as us, aren't you, Billycan?”

Walter's eyes swelled with sudden fear. He put a nervous hand over his heart. “Prince—they can never find out about you! No one can ever find out, do you understand? They'll do whatever they can to find out your secrets, and boy, do you have secrets!” He laughed again. “More secrets than anyone could ever imagine!”

Billycan glanced around the table looking for something. He shook his head, unable to find it. He looked at Walter's pocket and pointed.