…29
Dr. Wu Shen Teng watched the screens with deep concern ridging his forehead. The source of his worries was different from what the other doctors shared. The others obsessed about the ethics of their actions. They debated, under the dire circumstances they were facing, whether they should take actions that led to drug experimentation on human subjects, or risk everyone’s lives by saying no. However, Dr. Teng was concerned with the ineffectiveness of the compound they were testing.
The others didn’t have their families with them; they could afford to be concerned with ethics, the Hippocratic Oath, and the core issues of preserving their humanity in the face of hardship. They could do that all they wanted, while their families were safe, somewhere in the United States, Germany, France, or wherever. His wife and child were locked in a dungeon, hopefully still breathing, and most likely scared out of their minds.
So far, they’d managed to persuade the Russians that the first test subjects were supposed to be men, for the drug tests to be relevant. Women would be useful later, Dr. Davis had said, when they were going to add a hormonal component to the drug mix. Some scientific mumbo-jumbo had made the case sound plausible, when in fact the doctors were trying to protect the women and children. That Dr. Davis could lie like a son of a bitch, not a blink in his eye.
Wu Shen Teng stared at the screens, troubled by what he was seeing. Mostly nothing was going on with the test subjects. Some of the men had gotten into an argument; some were shoving, and cursing took place, but no real violence. The two men who had taken the antidote sat quietly on the floor, leaning against the wall, a little spaced out. The rest paced the room impatiently, or mumbled oaths under their breaths.
How long would it take the Russians to figure out they were being played? How long before they started shooting people? How long before they’d kill his family, just to teach the doctors a lesson?
The doctors were pushing it too far. There should have been some significant effects. This lame result was ridiculous. This was dangerous. Stupid bleeding hearts were endangering everyone.
The lab door unlatched noisily, giving Wu Shen a start. Dr. Bogdanov walked in, followed by one of the fiercest looking Russian goons, a monster they had dubbed Death. Just like King Cobra, his nickname had originated from one of the man’s ink jobs. His entire back was tattooed with a twisted image depicting death holding a child in the same manner that Mary held baby Jesus in the well-known depictions of Madonna and child seen on church walls.
Death closed the lab door and remained watch in front of it, holding his machine gun with both his hands, ready to engage.
“This,” Dr. Bogdanov yelled without any preamble, pointing at the monitors, “this is ridiculous. This is der’mo, this is crap! This is not the drug you have promised me. This is not what I expected after a week of work!” Bogdanov spat on the floor angrily. “This is shit! Lame shit!”
The doctors stood flocked together, watching Bogdanov grow angrier with every word he spoke.
Wu Shen felt the grip of fear taking a fistful of his guts and twisting it. He could barely breathe. What was going to happen to them?
“Make no mistake,” Bogdanov continued. “If you don’t give me what I want, I will start again. With others, who can give me what I want. The way I brought you here, I will bring others, as soon as I’m done waiting for you to deliver and I kill you all. That’s an easy job.”
Bogdanov looked at them with a threatening glare, then said, “Be ready for another test batch tomorrow. And make sure it works next time.”
Then he turned and headed for the exit, as Death opened the massive door.
Wu Shen didn’t think much. He just reacted, his intestines still knotted with fear. He jumped ahead and caught up with Bogdanov, and grabbed his sleeve, just as Death shoved the barrel of a Kalashnikov in his chest.
“Can I please speak with you, sir?” Wu Shen asked humbly, keeping his head down and his spine bowed, in typical Chinese mannerism to show utmost respect and deference in front of a superior. “In private?”
…30
Wu Shen Teng followed Bogdanov quietly, not daring to look at more than the man’s feet, waiting for the opportunity to speak. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt sweat drops forming at the roots of his hair. What am I going to say?
He heard the lab door latch close behind him, and then Bogdanov stopped abruptly.
“What do you want?” he asked harshly.
“Doctor, please,” Wu Shen Teng pleaded, clasping his palms together. “I–I have my family here. Please promise me they’ll be safe… Please.”
“Humph,” Bodganov scoffed. “Take him back,” he told Death.
“No!” Wu Shen Teng said in a high-pitched, piercing tone. “No, please! Promise me they’ll be safe and I’ll — I’ll tell you things.”
“What things?”
He’d caught Bogdanov’s attention.
“Things… things you need to know.”
“Like what?” Bogdanov was starting to lose his patience, and sounded threatening.
“They’re stalling. They’re keeping drug concentrations low on purpose. That kind of thing I can tell you, if you promise me they’ll be safe. Please!”
Bogdanov reached out and grabbed Wu Shen Teng by the lapels of his lab coat, easily lifting the thin man a few inches off the ground.
“You have your family here, you say?” he growled. “How interesting! Keep me informed, or your family dies. Is that understood, you little piece of shit?”
Wu Shen Teng nodded his compliance vigorously, and Bogdanov shoved him toward the lab door. As Death opened the massive door, Bogdanov shoved Wu Shen Teng violently into the lab, and cursed behind him.
“Tvoyu mat!”
Wu Shen Teng fell hard from the shove and rolled on the concrete floor, then curled up on his side, sobbing hard.
Dr. Davis rushed to his side, and kneeled right next to him.
“What happened? What did you tell him?”
“I begged him to let me see my family,” Wu Shen Teng managed to articulate between uncontrollable sobs. “He won’t let me see them.”
“This must be hard for you,” Davis tried to comfort him. “Hang in there, I’m sure they’ll be all right.”
“You don’t understand,” Wu Shen Teng said, trying to stifle his sobs. “Until now, he didn’t know they existed. He didn’t know I had a family in there. Now he does.”
Oh, God, what have I done?
…31
“There’s nothing I hate more than sitting idle and doing nothing, just waiting,” Sam said, getting off his chair and starting to pace the living room, impatiently, his fisted hands stuck deep in his pockets. “Makes me feel old.”
“The kids are working as hard as they can,” Tom said. “We just need to give them time to do their thing.”