These fibrous neurons housed a very primitive part of the brain; the reflex centers. They controlled a person’s swallowing, sneezing, heartbeat, blood pressure, and breathing.
Just as a regular dose of N-Som overrode a person’s thoughts, this refined dose was overriding Rothchilde’s instinctive knowledge of how to breathe.
Rothchilde began to see red. His lungs screamed at him, begging for air, but his brain was full of reflex neurons that had frozen in death.
His heart stopped next, in mid beat. The pressure in his chest was excruciating. Every nerve cell in his body fired, sending out distress signals to the brain in the form of pain. Rothchilde’s brain responded by ordering the release of adrenaline, which did nothing but heighten his awareness of his terrible situation.
Rothchilde thrashed in his chair. Every muscle in his body burned, starving for oxygen. Black spots mingled with the red in his vision. He tried to scream, but nothing came out.
The pilot, Frederick, couldn’t have done anything even if he’d left the controls. All of Rothchilde’s systems were crashing. The reflex center of Rothchilde’s brain was convinced it was dead, and it was just following orders.
Rothchilde went rigid as he was seized by a spasm of pure agony. He voided his bowels and bladder. His vital organs began to shut down. Rothchilde was helpless, and aware that he was helpless, and the frantic struggle for breath coupled with the body-wracking pain was more than his mind could handle.
The neurons in his head all fired at once, and during that microsecond they burned into him an eternity of torture without escape.
He was no longer rational at this point, or he might have seen the irony. He had, after all, wanted to experience Halloran’s death.
Frederick began emergency landing procedures, but there was no hurry.
The president of American Products was dead long before they touched the ground.
Jack Kilborn
Disturb
“The ambulance is on the way, Theena.”
Theena didn’t respond. She looked terrible. Her face was pale, waxy, and her jowls seemed deflated, hanging limply on her face. But her pulse was strong, and she was awake and aware.
Bill touched her cheek. “Are you thirsty?”
She shook her head.
Eventually, Bill would have to go upstairs. He wanted to be there to greet the authorities. But he still had reservations about leaving Theena alone. He’d started her on a streptokinase drip to prevent blood clots from clogging her heart. It was a risky move, considering her injury, but that was looking surprisingly well.
“Where are we?” Her voice was hoarse, low.
“DruTech, the lower levels. In the gym.”
Her eyes swept the room, coming to rest on Manny. The ax was still buried in his back.
“Manny’s dead.”
“I’m sorry, Theena. I didn’t have any choice.”
Theena’s shoulders began to shake. She was too dehydrated to form tears, but she cried just the same. Bill held her, sharing some of her grief.
He hadn’t wanted to kill Manny, but at the same time he knew it was the right thing to do. Not only did it save Theena, but in a strange sort of way it had saved Manny as well. Bill hoped the man was finally at peace.
“I’m going to check on the cops. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”
Theena didn’t answer. She just stared at the puddle of her own blood, congealing on the floor.
Bill kissed her forehead, then got to his feet and grabbed the N-Som file. The rubber band broke, spilling papers all over the gym floor.
He bent over, the pain flaring in his shoulder, and began to gather them up. Every single sheet was important. This was more than just proof N-Som was dangerous. This was evidence of murders. Many murders.
His hand closed around one of Manny’s CT scans, a three dimensional picture of his brain. It was labeled Day 45. There was so much scar tissue it was surprising he had lived up to that point.
Bill examined the picture closer, reading the handwriting on the margin. His stomach clenched.
This wasn’t Manny’s scan.
He searched through the papers until he found the log. Written in Dr. Nikos’s hand. A day-by-day account of the second clinical test subject. Someone else, besides Manny, who’d been taking N-Som and hadn’t slept in over one thousand hours. Someone else, whose brain was just as fried.
Bill heard movement behind him. He spun around, his head swimming, shocked beyond words. How could this be so? How could he have missed this? He remembered when he first met Theena, her telling him about another test subject.
“Theena…”
She stood over him, her face oddly calm. Her eyes were distant, unrecognizable.
“My name isn’t Theena.”
And then she hit him with the ax.