Winter's Wrath: Sacrifice (Winter's Saga #3) (24 page)

Now it was Sloan’s turn to frown.  She hesitated only a moment before answering, “It’s May 30
th
.”  She watched Creed’s face as he reacted to the news. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, dazed.

“Of course.”

“What happened to me?” he stared into the girl’s crisp, gray eyes and saw kindness there.

“You suffered a severe head trauma.  There’s been memory loss,” Sloan offered carefully.  “That’s why you get the headaches.”

“How did the head trauma happen?  Was it from the Retribution Match?” he asked, desperately trying to put the pieces together.

Sloan glanced around to be sure no one was anywhere watching then motioned for him to follow her into the lab. 

“This room is sound proof,” she said once they’d entered
the lab
.  He followed her to a desk in the back corner where neat stacks of computer printouts lay atop manila folders.  She motioned to a chair for him to take.  She took the one behind the desk, but leaned over it, hands clasped together.  “I also know it’s not monitored, as Dr. Williams doesn’t want anyone to know a lot of what’s going on in our studies.”  Sloan sighed deeply, a shadow of regret slipping across her face.  “It still wouldn’t do for anyone to see us talking.  You understand, don’t you?” she looked into the face of the soldier who had been her subject for the past three weeks.

“Yes, I do.  Thank you for taking the risk to talk with me.  And by the way, thanks for the pills yesterday.  I barely made it back to my quarters.”

Sloan nodded, acknowledging the thanks.  “About that,” she leaned back and pulled a drawer open.  “Here, hide them.  If you must use them, find a way to let me know so I can be sure we don’t take a blood or urine sample from you for the forty-eight hours it’ll remain detectable in your system.”

Creed pocketed the tiny bottle containing no more than six pills by the sound of it, “Thank you, Sloan.  Seriously.”

“You’re welcome.”  She offered just a hint of a smile.  Her little girl’s face was just starting to show the beginnings of the beautiful woman she would one day be. 

“What happened to me, Sloan?” Creed’s blue eyes glistened with turmoil.

“Short version: Oldham was going to have you killed for your disobedience during the Match.  Williams offered you another choice.  You went on assignment to kill a woman who stole three metahumans a dozen years ago and return the metas to Williams.   That’s where things get sketchy.  Rumor has it you befriended your targets and turned against Williams.  When he sent in a squad of soldiers to extract them, you fought.  During the battle, there was an explosion and you were exposed to an undetermined amount of the original Infinite serum—gifting you with even more metahuman abilities.”  Sloan stopped talking and watched Creed’s face carefully.

His eyes were glassed over, as he stared straight ahead.

“Is any of this triggering memories?”  Sloan asked.

Creed stayed unblinking before slowly shaking his head, no.

Sloan peered nervously around, half expecting Williams himself to come slinking into the room. 

“Why did Williams keep me alive?”  Creed’s voice sounded hollow—detached.

“I don’t know.  When you first arrived, we weren’t sure you would survive.  Your injuries were so extensive.  Dr. Chaunders worked around the clock to monitor your progress.  I don’t think it was for altruistic reasons; I believe Williams threatened him. 

“Anyway, within nine days you woke.  Your healing was remarkable from a scientific standpoint.  Healing from the wounds you suffered should have taken twice as long
, easily
.  You were put in a chemically induced coma for several days while Dr. Bjorn and Dr. Chaunders carried out some procedures,” Sloan shrugged. 

“I wasn’t invited to participate in that part of your recovery, so I don’t know what was done, but once we were given clearance to allow you to awaken, you’ve been performing exponentially in all physical tests.”  A smile lit her face.

“You’re a medical phenomenon; really quite extraordinary,” she offered innocently.

Creed felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest with a metal spork.  Sloan’s perceptive doctor’s eyes caught the clouds building behind the blue in his eyes one moment then clear to a dead calm the next. 

It was eerie.

“You are not supposed to know any of this.”  The young doctor was starting to worry she’d said far too much.

“I understand,” Creed stood to leave, but stopped and looked back at the girl seated behind the desk of a grown-up.  “Thank you, Sloan.  For everything.”  He nodded once, dipped his eyes in a gentle bow and walked with the grace of a panther across the laboratory and through the sliding doors.

He had a meeting to attend.

Chapter 2
6
New Assignment, Old Friends

Promptly at oh-eight-hundred hours, Creed knocked on the door of the second-floor conference room.

“Enter,” called a raspy voice from inside.

Creed opened the door, stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him before standing at attention.  “Creed Young, reporting as requested,” he spoke deliberately in his clipped, formal military tone.

“Greetings, Mr. Young,” the raspy voice chirped.  “Please, come in and take a seat.  We have business to attend
,
and there’s no time like the present.”

For the first time, Creed relaxed his stance and glanced at the others in the room, taking note of those in attendance.  The table was a large rectangle able to comfortably seat twelve, but fewer than half the seats were occupied.  The smallish frame of Dr. Williams was seated at the head of the table.  Creed’s eyes lingered only momentarily on the mangled face of the Director only partially hidden behind a black fedora.  To his left sat
d
octors Chaunders and Bjorn. To his right sat his brother. 

Inwardly, Creed groaned.  This couldn’t be good.

Gavil smiled widely, crystal blue eyes crackling with malevolent humor at the surprise he was sure Creed felt at him being invited to the meeting.

“Can I offer you something to drink, Mr. Young?  We’re all having coffee,” the Director asked graciously. 

“Yes, sir.  Coffee would be fine,” he nodded, trying to tread carefully through what felt like a surreal landmine of hidden social protocols. 

“Ivy?” The director called.

“Sir?” A female meta entered the room from
what
must have been an adjoining office behind Drs. Chaunders and Bjorn.

“Coffee for Mr. Young,” he spoke pleasantly enough, but didn’t bother to grace her with his full attention.  Instead, he was scanning the documents in front of him.

“Right away, sir,” Ivy nodded.

Creed wondered why Farrow wasn’t there.  She was, after all, the Director’s personal assistant. 

The room remained silent as the Director continued to read.  Moments later, Ivy arrived with a steaming cup of coffee and carefully placed it in front of Creed before offering him a dish of creamers and sweeteners.  Creed politely declined. 

He waited silently, black coffee untouched.

The Director finished the last page and looked up expectantly at Creed.  The smile he offered was grotesquely bloody.  Creed watched him, unflinching.

“It’s been a while, Mr. Young,” he began. “You must forgive my appearance.” He motioned to his own face and watched the metasoldier through weeping eyes. 

“While your recovery has been remarkable, I haven’t been as fortunate.”  He removed a red handkerchief from the pocket of his three-pieced suit and dabbed at the bloody fluid seeping from his eyes. 

“But, enough about me.  We’re here to discuss you.  Your doctor’s report indicates a phenomenal level of performance.  Your skills are far beyond the exceptional abilities you previously demonstrated
.  T
hey assure me you are completely fit, and ready for duty.  Do you agree?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you any questions for me before we begin?”

“None, sir.”

“Do you know today’s date?”

The abrupt change in questioning was meant to throw off the soldier, but he wasn’t biting.

“Do I need to?”

“Are you curious?”

“I am only curious about things I am asked to be curious about.”

Dr. Williams stared, unblinking at the soldier.

“Today is May 30
th
.”

“Yes, sir.” Creed responded with no affect to his voice.

“The Match against your brother here took place in October.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have any memory of the events that took place during the past six months?”

“No, sir.”

“That doesn’t cause you concern?”

“I am a soldier, sir.  I follow orders.  If you tell me to be concerned, I will be.”

Dr. Williams nodded slowly and fingered the papers in front of him, thoughtfully.

“You were given an assignment six months ago.  You failed the objective of that assignment.”

Creed stared, stone-faced.

The Director continued, “You suffered extensive injuries during that assignment and were brought back here for recovery.”

Again, the words elicited no response from the silent soldier.

“I have to tell you, I was very disappointed in you and seriously considered your termination.”

“Yes, sir.”

“However, you were exposed to a compound during your injuries that
piqued
my scientific curiosity.  So, rather than destroy it along with you, I decided you would better serve our purposes here.  The scientists assigned to your care and subsequent observation were able to extract an exciting amount of information locked in your newly altered DNA, Mr. Young.”  He paused for effect before reaching under the table and making a show of pushing a button there.

In walked four metasoldiers, heavily armed.  They each positioned themselves in the four corners of the room and stood at attention
, e
yes star
ing
straight ahead.  Dr. Williams smiled at them before continuing.

“Did you know that a human female is born with all the eggs she will ever have already stored in her ovaries?”  Dr. Williams’ face took on an even more grotesque smile bordering on elation.

“No, sir.”  Creed frowned deeply now, unable to maintain his stoic façade at the sick change of topic.

“It’s true.  Anywhere from one to
two million of them,” Williams continued. 
“Did you further know that these eggs can be harvested and frozen indefinitely for scientific study and use?”

“Harvested from a baby?” Creed’s eyes widened at the thought.

“Of course.”

“But why?”

“I already told you, for scientific study.”

Creed’s face went pale.  The Director nodded happily at the effect.

“You see, Mr. Young, I’ve been studying physiology for decades.  It’s how I was able to create the first Infinite serum.  I enhanced nature; made it better, stronger, smarter, faster, more resilient and quicker to heal. 
You
are a product of my science.”

Creed looked away from the Director and met the sickly gloating expression on Dr. Bjorn’s face.  He nodded with fake empathy.  Dr. Chaunders, on the other hand, was studying a paper clip at the edge of his folder—obviously less comfortable with this discussion.

“Some fourteen years ago, Mr. Young, I was working in the States at my first research facility affectingly dubbed ‘The Institute’ where I began working with human subjects.  The first few dozen didn’t survive the test serums, but through their deaths, I perfected my work.  The first surviving subject was a female, M57. 

“Once I determined she had survived the dosing, I proceeded to further my testing on her by harvesting a couple hundred eggs from her ovaries.  I was already in the process of building this site here in Germany, so I sent her samples to be cryopreserved onsite.   The decision was a fortunate one on my part because it wasn’t long afterward that the subject, along with two other infant metahumans, were stolen by a rogue scientist who had been in my employ.”  The Director paused to take a sip of his coffee.  Creed watched in disgust as he left bloody smudges around the rim of the white mug.

He looked up at Creed and motioned to his untouched drink.  “Would you prefer tea or a glass of water, perhaps?”

Creed stared for a moment, overwhelmed by the macabre tale the Director spun before shaking his head, no.

“You must be wondering what this all has to do with you, Mr. Young,” he chuckled to himself as he used his red handkerchief to absently rub the bloody marks off his mug.

“You see, I lost everything pertaining to those successful test subjects when the thief stole them.  She destroyed or took every document I had on them including everything stored in our computer files,” he shook his head sadly.  “But, she didn’t destroy the harvested eggs safely tucked away in the cryogenic state here in
Germany
,” he smiled widely causing fissures to crack open in what should have been his cheeks.