“Lynette Tan, Geneticist” she read, and put the metal name plate back onto her desk. She leaned back in her chair with a deep sigh, pulled her hair free from its pony tail and ran fingers of both hands back through it. She shook her head feeling it brush to and fro across the knots in her upper back. She gathered it together again, pulling random strands from her face and around the sides of her head. Once tidy she bunched it back up into a pony tail again. She sat up and the computer screen was still there, accusing her, with its steady flash-flash-flash of the cursor.
She laid fingers on the slim white and aluminium Apple keyboard. Poised, ready to go. With a frustrated grimace she pushed the keyboard across the desk. It wasnt flowing. She could almost hear her Father’s words mocking her, “The report’s not going to write itself…”
The cursor mocked her. Flash. “You’re not fit for the job.” Flash. “Call yourself a leader?” Flash. “Why do you think the company never promoted you before now?” Flash. “This project is their way of burying you.” Flash.
She turned away from the computer to stare out of her window. She had a decent view of the rest of the complex. Keflavik airbase was one location that lived up to its heritage: abandoned in the late 80’s by the US Airforce. The old airstrip was cracked and showed signs of grass growing in places. The buildings were squat, square and non-descript. It was attached to Keflavik airport. Even when she wasnt looking, the airport dominated her awareness with planes coming and going at regular intervals. Weak sunlight signalled the arrival of Icelandic summer, one of the few places on Earth you could legitimately get both sun-burn and frost-bite all on the same day.
She turned back to the computer and hit alt-tab until she found iTunes. Paging through the music she looked for just the right music for report writing. “Out ta get me.” - Axl Rose’s 80-a-day voice belting out the words started to work magic on her:
Been hidin' out
And layin' low
It's nothing new ta me
Well you can always find a place to go
If you can keep your sanity
They break down the doors
And they rape my rights but
They won't touch me
They scream and yell
And fight all night
YOU CAN TELL ME
I lose my head
I close my eyes
They won't touch me
'Cause I got somethin'
I been buildin' up inside
For so f'king long
They're out ta get me
They won't catch me
I'm f'kin innocent
They won't break me
Sometimes it's easy to forget where you're goin'
Sometimes it's harder to leave
And evrytime you think you know just what you are doin'
That's when your troubles exceed
They push me in a corner
Just to get me to fight but
They won't touch me
They preach and yell
And fight all night
You can't tell me
I lose my head
I close my eyes
They won't touch me
'Cause I got somethin'
I been buildin' up inside
I'm already gone
They're out ta get me
They won't catch me
BECAUSE I'm f'kin innocent
They won't break me
Lynette closed her eyes as Slash’s guitar magic slid to her core and connected with something deep inside.
Some people got a chip on their shoulder
An some would say it was me
But I didn't buy that fifth of whiskey
That you gave me
So I'd be quick to disagree
They're out ta get me
They won't catch me
BECAUSE I'm f'kin innocent
They won't break me
They out ta get me
They won't catch me
I'm innocent
So you can
Suck me
Take that one to heart
The iTunes playlist skipped to a random track in the same playlist and she found herself listening to the ethereal vocals of Amy Lee
Long lost words whisper slowly to me
Still can't find what keeps me here
When all this time I've been so hollow inside
I know you're still there
Watching me wanting me
I can feel you pull me down
Fearing you loving you
I won't let you pull me down
Hunting you I can smell you - alive
Your heart pounding in my head
Watching me wanting me
I can feel you pull me down
Saving me raping me
Watching me
Lynette pulled herself forward, grabbed the keyboard and began typing her emailed report.
“The F1 hybrid is continuing to display behaviour incongruent with her maternal line, despite inheriting their colouring. We can only speculate as to the paternal line on anything other than size and general morphology. Both mother and 6th generation back-crossed offspring are avoiding all automated monitoring, displaying a level of intelligence on-par with McCallister’s findings from the previous failed experiment.”
Her finger hovered over the “delete” key and she sighed. It would have to do.
There was a knock on her office door.
“Come in.” she called.
Rick Williams entered her office. Great.
“Take a seat Mr. Williams.” she gestured toward the seat across the desk from her. She returned to the emailed report.
“In short we are reaching the limits of the previous work without imposing the limitations McCallister’s location and experimental direction did. That said, we are short a shark wrangler and a means to monitor the subjects.”
She signed the email “- LT” and clicked “Send” then turned back to Rick Williams who sat smiling.
“Mister Williams. Your displays of drunken debauchery are attracting undue attention. Was there something in your contract or the term ‘skunk works’ that you didnt understand?”
He shrugged and maintained the smile.
“I had hoped for a little remorse. You have nothing to say in your own favour?” She clicked a couple of times on the mouse.
She waited. Rick took a deep breath, then spoke, “I am damned to this hell-hole, harvesting stem-cells from prehistoric teeth, and you pay a pittance and demand I not blow off steam. I’m done with it. I dont give a crap that I’m only halfway through the current batch. Im through. Done. Out of here. I quit.”
“Quit?” Lynette asked.
“Yeah, finito. Adios amigo.” Rick stood to leave.
Lynette seemed to look past him as she spoke, “This man is trespassing on company property, please deal with him accordingly.”
Rick turned and found himself face-to-face with a tall man dressed like he’d stepped of a trawler. The last thing Rick saw was one of the man’s meaty fists swinging for his jaw.
Rick woke up naked and sitting in a metal chair beneath a ceiling with a bare electric light bulb. He made to stand up and the chair moved with him. His arms were bound behind his back. He was bleeding from a cut across his chest. The room was small and had metal walls. The paint was peeling and exposed metal looked aged. A rhythmic chugging sound gave the impression of a large engine … the tall man … dressed to have come from a ship. The realization came as the door opened and three men entered. He was dragged upright and the chair kicked into the corner. He found himself propelled along a short corridor, and out onto deck. Sea spray stun his eyes and the cut on his chest burned from the salt. He blinked from the bright sunlight.
“Hey!” he called as they slammed him against the rail.
Behind and above him a voice called something in Icelandic. He caught the words “GPS” and “the right location” and was just processing the thought as he found himself thrown overboard.
The water knocked the breath from him. Icy. He kicked and struggled to free his hands from their bonds. His foot brushed something below water. Panic clouded his vision. Yes! One hand came free and he began swimming in the oppoite direction to the trawler hoping that it lead him back toward land. His foot brushed something under the water again and he turned around, treading water, looking for what it might be. The sea was calm and showed him no clues.
The last thing Rick Williams saw was a shark fin as it broke the surface. The scale dwarfed him. It had to be a clear six feet in height! His brain hadnt fully registered the shock of the fin when ten-tons of bite pressure closed around his body in a snap of massive jaws.