Mel typed furiously, her hands skating around the keyboard. Windows popped up and closed.
“I’m opening up the CRISPR software,” said Mel. “I’ll tell it to make the scrambler.”
“Tell it to make two,” said Jon. “Just in case.”
Mel typed some more.
“Goddamnit,” she muttered.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jon.
“It’s not processed,” said Mel. “It’s been too long. The system emptied it out. Stone’s been messing around in here since he’s been in charge.”
“Well, how long would it take?” asked Jon.
“A couple hours,” said Mel.
“We don’t have the time,” said Tabby.
“What can we make?” asked Jon. “What formulas are already processed?”
“There’s three. The zero formula. The one used on Tommy, and presumably also on Shaw,” said Mel. “And the one we used on the chimp that went berserk.”
Jon sighed. “Make that one, then. Two copies.”
“The berserk formula? It wasn’t prepped for humans, and that thing—”
“It’s all we have,” said Jon. “It’ll disrupt his systems, regardless. We’ll just have to be ready to run.”
“If you say so,” said Mel, and started the system, the computer doing all the hard stuff, pairing the complex mix of material necessary for the CRISPR to work.
Within minutes, the first and then second copies of the serum were ready, only needed to be injected to perform their magic.
“Now the difficult part,” said Jon.
“You’re clear for everywhere but the operating theater and the armory,” said Nadia. “And anyone with camera feeds won’t see you. I’ve looped old footage of nothing. They think everyone is locked up, so they’re not being particularly vigilant. I’ll warn you if you’re in danger of being seen. There are surgical scrubs in your first lab in the dark lab. You ready?”
“Yes,” said Jon, after glances around, and the elevator plunged down. Moments later, the dark lab lay in front of them. Jon led them in, glancing around, but seeing and hearing nothing. They followed him to their first lab down there, now emptied of most stuff. Jon went to the supply closet and opened boxes, pulling out surgical scrubs, enough for all of them to wear. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
“Nadia,” he answered.
“They will start the pre-op routine in ten minutes,” she said. “Two assistants, roughly matching the sizes and shapes of you and Dr. Underwood are locked in their rooms. You should be able to step in as them without raising eyebrows, as long as you don’t talk too much and don’t let people see you.”
“Understood,” said Jon. “Their names.”
“Steven Bollard. Barbara Tyler. Also goes by Babs.”
“Got it,” said Jon, and Nadia hung up.
“We all dress up,” said Jon, throwing the scrubs to all of them. “But only Mel and I go in with Shaw and rest of them. I’m Steven Bollard. Mel, you’re Barbara Tyler, also called Babs. Tabby, Tommy, you will hang back, and be backup in case we need it. Tabby, try and access the energy weapon.”
“It’s under lock and key,” said Tabby. “Nadia said the armory is guarded.”
“Whenever we stick Shaw,” said Jon. “Things are going to get messy, quickly. So be ready. I’ll message you, but I don’t think I’ll need to.”
Everyone was dressed, mostly covered in scrubs. Jon had worked to cover up most of his face. They all did. Tommy, with his legs, looked like a short adult. The bluff would work for a moment, at least.
“Everyone ready?” asked Jon. They all nodded. Jon hugged Tommy and Tabby. “Good luck.”
They went their separate ways, and Jon didn’t look back, saying goodbye to his son again, heading directly into the lion’s den. He could have stayed in his room, and avoided all of this, but that would be letting this monster do what he pleased. That thought clicked in him. He remembered Shaw’s words. “I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.” Jon had helped build this, and now he would destroy it.
Jon and Mel walked toward the operating theater in the corner of the dark lab. He expected guards soon, but they didn’t blink when he saw the two approach.
“Jesus, they’ve been waiting on you two,” said a guard, one of four standing around outside the door. The two of them walked in. Jon had a knot of anxiety in his stomach, and tried to push it away, to act natural. He was Steven Bollard. He was running late, he was nervous, but he wasn’t planning anything untoward. He felt the serum in his pocket.
Everyone stared at them as they entered, and Jon’s heart froze. They were all the in the pre-op room, getting ready. Most just glanced, but they all looked, and one of them would realize who they were. But no one did.
“Where the hell have you two been?” asked the loud voice of Stone, who was washing up under a sink.
“Our alarm didn’t go off,” said Mel, her voice higher than normal. Jon hoped she had met Babs.
Stone glanced at them a moment longer, across the room. “Really? You two? Well, okay. Get ready for the operation. Bollard, you’re on the pump. Tyler, you’re assisting the anesthesiologist. No different from Jon’s kid. Same procedure. You’re lucky Shaw’s not here yet. He’d rip your ass apart.”
Jon and Mel glanced at each other and then played their parts, getting ready for the procedure, just like they would on a normal day, trying to keep their heads down and faces hidden. Only answering questions when necessary.
But no one spoke. They were operating on Shaw today, and Jon doubted Shaw hadn’t read them the riot act. And only a few minutes passed before Shaw came in, covered in a surgical gown, not wearing his prosthetic. Jon knew not to look, but he had never seen Shaw without it, and he looked odd, naked. Shaw protected his image like he everything else he owned, and Jon understood why Shaw had waited until he would have his arm again before he went back to the surface.
It was a symbol, the ultimate representation of power. Shaw could do anything, including miracles. He had the power of God, and he would exercise it.
Jon turned his head back, busying himself with the nutrient pump. It was ready to go, but he examined it, back and forth, endlessly. Two guards flanked Shaw, each armed with an assault rifle.
“Please, Mr. Shaw,” said Stone. “This is a clean room, we can’t have—”
“I decide what kind of room this is, Doctor,” said Shaw. “And if you expect me to not have my guards, you’re sorely mistaken. Also, I’ve decided that I will not be put under anesthesia for the procedure.”
“What?” asked Stone. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir. We do not know what kind of pain the regeneration process causes. Even reopening the wound site will be quite painful, and your response—”
“I was awake when it was removed the first time, Dr. Stone,” said Shaw. “I’ll be awake the second. I can’t go under. Too many variables.”
Jon cursed under his breath. Another set of eyes studying them, looking for sabotage. Jon felt the serum in his pocket again, making sure it was there.
“Okay,” said Stone. “But it will hurt, a lot.”
“I will manage,” said Shaw.
“Lay down on the stretcher,” said Stone. “We’re going to clean the wound site, and then get you into the theater.”
Shaw complied, and one of the assistants scrubbed his stump, cleaning it for surgery.
“Alright, let’s move him,” said Stone, to the assembled team. Jon grabbed the vacuum pump. A massive tub of nutrient bath was already in the theater, too heavy to be moved by hand. They carried Shaw in and set him down, with the same procedure as Tommy. But no sedative this time. Shaw would be awake when they cut into him.