Troop laid himself down inside the crate, ignoring the chickens’ clucks of indignation. Then he slid the cover of the crate back in place. The slates of the crate allowed some light to filter through; the gaps created by the wooden slates also allowed him a limited view of what was going on outside.
The automatic door whooshed open and Troop heard rustling and the thud of someone dropping something heavy. A few seconds later, the door swooshed open once more. Troop saw a pair of black dress shoes make their way out the room.
He counted at least five different people come and leave the holding room. I wonder how long it’s going to be before someone moves the crate I’m in. Perhaps I should try a different tactic.
“Let’s see, I have to move box number fifty to Lab N,” said a feminine voice.
The speaker’s high heels tip-tapped across the floor. Please let this crate of chickens be box number fifty, Troop thought. The shoes strode right past him. Okay, once this person leaves, I’m getting out of here and coming up with a different plan.
The automatic doors hummed open again and another person wheeled a cart into the holding room.
“Hi, Jack,” said the woman. “Do you know where box fifty is? I can’t locate it.”
“Check over there,” Jack suggested. “I think it’s beside that really tall box.”
There was a pause and some scuffling noises. “Oh—got it. Thanks.”
The pair of red stilettos click-clacked through the doors and out the room. Troop thought it was a minor miracle that the woman managed to keep her balance on those ridiculously high heels.
“Gosh, this thing’s heavy,” a male—Jack’s, Troop assumed—voice grunted.
Troop felt one end of the crate tip upwards. Finally.
The opposite end of the crate was lifted upwards then laid down until everything was level once more. The chickens fluttered their wings at the movement. Troop squirmed, the prickly straw padding poking into his back. He felt like he was lying in a coffin. A very itchy and poultry-smelling coffin.
The wheels whirred beneath Troop as the cart launched into motion.
“Somebody must’ve ordered extra chickens,” Jack said. “Subject number twenty-three sure is lucky.”
Troop gazed out the slates of the crate, watching a parade of legs pass by him. The chickens at last left Troop alone and stopped pecking at him. The checkered floor scrolled by, momentarily hypnotizing him.
“What do you have there?” a gruff voice demanded.
The cart stopped. Troop gauged the speaker stood a good distance from Jack.
“Chickens,” said Jack.
“ID?” A pause, then, “Alright. Fingerprint scan.”
There was a soft bleep.
“You’re cleared.”
A mechanical lock buzzed to life and Jack pushed the cart into the East Wing. Troop allowed himself a mental victory dance.
“I don’t see why we still need to upkeep subject twenty-three if it’s just going to be put down in a few hours,” Jack said to himself. “Such a waste of resources.”
Jack drove the cart straight down the hall, and then turned into a room branching off the main hallway. From his point of view, Troop couldn’t see any other people in the room aside from him and Jack.
“I have your lunch, twenty-three,” said Jack. “Hope you enjoy your final meal.”
Troop propped himself up with his elbows to get a better look at subject twenty-three, bumping his head against the top of the crate in the process of doing so. He bit back a string of curses.
“No need to get all hyped up, chickens,” said Jack. “It’s not like you’ll live to see another day.”
Troop tilted his head and stared at the large, metal cage directly in line with his field of view. Oh, shit. Why does subject twenty-three have to be a tiger?
chapter forty
“There you are. I just finished drying the window in the hallway and didn’t know where you went,” Chelsa said, walking over beside Kristi.
“Good, you’re here,” Kristi said softly to her once she was within earshot. “Take a look around this room.”
Chelsa took in her surroundings and let out a faint gasp. “We’re definitely getting closer to the answer of the Disappearance Case.”
“There were cats, rabbits and mice in the North Wing of New Genes Lab,” Kristi said. “Now there are primates in the East Wing. I think we both can predict what we’ll find in the South Wing.”
Both of them stared wide-eyed at each other, reaching the same conclusion. Neither of them had predicted that the government would be conducting experiments on the Accidents. And of course, there was also the question of why the government would want to conduct experiments on the Accidents in the first place.
“How did you get into the East Wing?” Kristi asked Chelsa.
Chelsa spread a glob of cleaning foam onto the window Kristi was wiping down.
“Some distracted bloke had too many electro-slates to carry by himself. I offered to help him carry some of the slates and the guards allowed me to pass through the door accompanying him without a question.”
“Do you want to wait for Tro—Kennedy or not?” Kristi remembered to use Troop’s Cleandows ID name at the last second.
“Sure. Want to give him five minutes then move on?”
Kristi nodded.
chapter forty-one
The tiger rumbled and bared its saber-like fangs.
“No need to get all hissy on me, twenty-three,” Jack said.
Troop gripped his black toolbox so tight his knuckles turned white. Jack’s footsteps echoed in the small, square room.
Crrkk. The cover of the crate grated open.
Troop bolted upright. Jack widened his eyes in astonishment.
“What are—” Jack began to say.
Troop slammed the heavy toolbox into Jack’s temple. Jack crumpled to the floor like a piece of paper. A thin line of blood oozed on the side of his head.
Subject twenty-three sniffed the air and let out a growl.
Troop nudged Jack with his foot. The scientist remained unconscious. Then he walked over to the single window of the room and slid up the panel. Next, he returned to the crate of chickens.
“Lucky day for you. I’m saving you guys from becoming tiger food.”
Troop caught and released each chicken out through the window. Subject twenty-three mournfully looked at its lunch escaping before its eyes.
Chicken-freeing task completed, Troop heaved Jack into the now-empty crate. The man’s lanky frame barely fit in the box; he had to bend Jack’s legs to ensure he was completely within the crate.
Jack let out a soft moan. Troop didn’t hesitate to give him another bash to the head. Then Troop opened up his toolbox and removed the bottle of window glue. He applied a thin layer of the adhesive around the rim of the crate and slid the crate’s cover back in place; someone was bound to find Jack when they came to kill the tiger. In the meantime, Jack wouldn’t be able to alert Troop’s presence to others.
Troop cracked open the door and slid into the East Wing hallway. Time to find Kristi and Chelsa.
chapter forty-two
Kristi chewed on her bottom lip. Troop still hadn’t shown up after ten minutes.
“We really ought to go,” Chelsa said.
“Two more minutes. Give him two more minutes. If he still isn’t here, then we’ll leave.”
Chelsa sighed, but complied with her wishes.
“Come on, where are you?” Kristi muttered.