Atlantis: chapter 3
And congrats again! Part three:
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Chapter III: A Breakthrough
Tom! Tom! Wake up.”
“Whaa?” Tom got groggily to his feet. “Whats goin on?”
He was standing in the same hospital room. He had just woken up, and he wasn't in a good mood. Next to him stood the always animated Dr. Stephens. “We have made a huge breakthrough in the Biolabs!” Dr. Stephens was very excited, so Tom payed more attention than usual.
“Breakthrough?”
“Yes, Tom. We managed to take a sample of Raptor DNA from some saliva left over on one of the soldier's uniforms! Moreover, we inspected the samples you took of the feces. With both of these, in addition to our previous stock, we now have a 100% complete Raptor DNA strand!” Right down to the point as always.
“Point...?” Tom asked sleepily
"My point is we can now safely mix Raptor and human DNA to create a superhuman! But perhaps even more beneficial, we can now clone Raptors! Now we too can have an army of dinosaurs. With our resources, we can develop a training program, so that not only will we have an army of dinosaurs, we can also make them smarter, faster, stronger, more cooperative with each other, the list goes on and on! The Biolabs have already turned out the first batch.”
“But why did you wake me up?”
“Because, we would like you to be the first to try out the DNA mix!”
“Why me!?” Tom was suddenly alert.
“Because, for one, as a field leader, your appearance would decrease the men's fear from at least one type of dinosaur.
"Two, you have the best immune system here, which will make you the most likely to survive if something goes wrong, and, will give us a chance to try out our new immune guider, which will help your immune system repel unfriendly objects, but not objects of a certain genetic makeup. Simply put, we give you a shot, you become less likely to die of sickness, and then you can still become a superhuman!
"And Three, your body will undergo changes, changes for the better, like becoming stronger and more muscular, becoming faster, your teeth will be sharper, your reflexes more highly tuned, better hearing and smell, etcetera.”
“Doc, you know about the...power. Will it be effected? It saved my life twice.”
“If it does, it will be for the better.”
“I still don't know...this sounds awfully risky. Has it been tried before?”
“Well... when the Iraqis tried it, er, well, it didn't go so well. But we've got shiploads of equipment here they could never dream of! Their scientific state is less than what we had ten years ago. Anyways though, yes, they've been tested. And, well, it was hard to see the effect on the rats, but the monkeys showed some improvement, also becoming rather more violent."
"Doc, not helping." Tom said.
"Well, this may be the only way to win the war. Surely you would take that risk? And, all of the affects are reversible." Dr. Stephens pushed.
Tom thought about it. An end to this suffering? An end to the war. An end to pain and loss. He could save so many lives. He could save parents the loss of their children. He could save them. Surely that was worth one? One man, one boy, for countless lives?
“I'll do it.”
“Excellent! Follow me.” What Dr. Stephens hadn't mentioned was that they were only semi-reversible. They could change back your looks, but not your habits and powers. Tom walked to the elevator with Dr. Stephens, the biological expert, whom he had complete trust in. That was the only reason he was doing this. The elevator dinged when they hit the basement, and the doors opened. They stepped out, and walked to the security checkpoint.
Tom looked in surprise, finding West, his second-in-command of the battle just... how many hours before?
“West! You're alright then.”
“Yeah,” West answered elatedly. "I was pretty bummed they took me off the team. Who's your replacement gonna be?"
"I dunno." Tom shrugged truthfully.
“West, you've met Tom?” Dr. Stephens was confused.
“Yeah, he saved me once before. But we don't have time to chat. I assume he accepted the treatment?”
“Yes.” Tom answered simply.
“Right this way then.” They followed West through another door on the opposite side of the room. West moved with a slight shuffle, as if is leg pained him, but he was otherwise fine. As soon as Tom walked in, he heard applause. Someone gave him a shot in the arm of some pale green liquid. He was strapped to some flat slab of metal which was connected to some machine. The slab was retracted into it. A speaker came on.
Tom? Just relax. We're going to give you a sleeping gas so you won't feel any pain. Then the process will start, and by the end of today, we'll be done.” Tom was starting to have second thoughts. He really didn't like tight spaces. The only thing keeping him in this box was his trust in Dr. Stephens.
A moment later, he was out cold, no dreams, thankfully, so he couldn't worry about any of it.
The next thing he knew, he was awake. The speaker came on again.
“Mr. Lane!” Tom hated the mention of his last name. “What is happening? You weren't supposed to have woken up yet!” Panic started to spread its icy wings inside him. In the distance, he could here muffled shouts. “Oh my god! How did it get out?” “We're all going to die!” “Noooooooooooo!” Then silence. Static. What had happened? Then he heard a vicious snarl, and he knew.
Dr. Stephens and the rest were dead. Somehow, the Raptors in the containment cells that had just been created, had already broken out. They had killed all of the people in the building.
Tom was overwhelmed with loss. Dr. Stephens... West... All of the soldiers, almost all the people he knew, now gone from the world. And he wasn't dead because he was in this box. His mind thought of a coffin, and he got sick and threw up all over the inside of the machine.
His mind now selected one task for him: BREAK FREE!!! He felt the power again, and suddenly the top of the box was blown off. The straps that were on him were now torn apart. He instantly jumped up and took stock of the situation. There were 5 Raptors in the room. Another three lay dead on the floor. One was laying over Dr. Stephens. Evidently, the Raptor had tried to tackle Dr. Stephens, and he had the quick thinking to stab a surgical knife in the beast. Next he gave himself a quick scan, looking down at his hands. His jaw dropped.
His hands, once ordinary, now sprouted 3 long curved, serrated claws. His feet were the same. The middle finger or toe had the longest and largest claw.
He ran his tung over his teeth. They were sharp to a point. The first Raptor noticed him. It snarled, and prepared to pounce on him. Tom was ready. As soon as the Raptor jumped, Tom rolled under it. His reaction was much faster than usual. The Raptor landed, and Tom whirled and sunk his new, extremely sharp claws deep down in its flesh. The Raptor cried out in agony. The other Raptors were all now looking at Tom hungrily. Tom yanked his claws out of the beast, kicking it in the process. He grabbed a knife and hurled it across the room at a Raptor. It landed in the back of its throat, and went down in a spastic jerk. Dang. Tom thought. I've got good aim.
Tom raked his claws down a Raptor's back, but it wasn't dead. He charged into the Security checkpoint, as he still didn't have a real weapon. Tom's back was still aching from the previous battle's punishment, but as he arrived, he saw two more Raptors waiting in this room, for a total of 5 again. Great. Take two down and have two more right back up.
The security checkpoint also housed the armory, which sported an impressive array of firearms and blades. Tom jumped up as a Raptor came charging, and dove off of its head onto the floor, and came to a rolling stop next to a gun rack. He cursed, as it was the handgun rack, and the next rack was 3 yards away. He plucked to P22's off the shelf anyways, and took aim at one of the Raptors. The bullets sent it yelping away, but it was still alive. The other Raptor was standing between Tom and the other guns. One hand rose to shoot at the ceiling, while Tom's other hand fired vaguely in the direction of the Raptor. It fell in a flurry of bullets and concrete.
The 3 Raptors from the Biolabs rushed in, making matters worse. Tom dove to the next rack, and sighed with relief as he brought around an M9 carbine. It was more than a match to take down four Raptors, two of them badly injured. However, one of them was already too close, and so Tom stabbed at it with the bayonet attached to the machine gun. It ducked and slashed open Tom's side, and he cried out in agony. The searing pain was almost more than he could take, but he forced himself to remain upright. He kicked it in the snout viciously, and it took a step back in surprise. He brought around the butt of the gun and smacked it silly, then proceeded to empty bullet after bullet into its exposed, vulnerable belly. The other three scattered as Tom raised the gun and sprayed randomly. After a moment of continued firing, the 50 round box magazine ejected automatically with a soft ding.
The Raptors seemed to know that the gun wouldn't fire again until Tom had reloaded. That, more than anything, was the reason Tom was so afraid of them, why he had nightmares in his sleep involving homicidal Raptors entering the compound and tearing everyone to shreds. They were just so smart. Maybe too smart. Nature had intended to make a scarily effective pack hunter, but she got more than she bargained for.
What the Raptors couldn't see from their angle was that Tom was reaching behind him for another gun. His fingers scrabbled silently over the stock of some sort of rifle or shotgun, and he brought it from out behind him without even checking what type.
He dropped the empty rifle, and it hit the floor with a clattering bing. Two of the Raptors jumped up from their hiding spots, charging towards Tom like predators on a hunt, which, Tom reflected, that's exactly what they were. Hunters. And he was the hunted.
Tom now brought the gun to his shoulder, surprised by how heavy it was. As he brought it into view, he realized why.
It was a S.P.A.S. 12 shotgun, firing deadly solid lead slugs instead of buckshot. The first Raptor took two in the chest, but instead of stopping, it went flying past Tom, skidding on the blood-slick floor, two gaping holes in its torso. The other one jumped in the air at least eight feet. It was incredible. Tom's brain oddly called up a memory from a class at the Facility, something to do with muscles, Oh yeah, Tom thought. He remembered a burly instructor lecturing on the leg and hip build of a Raptor. "A Raptor's pelvis is constructed specially for maximum leg movement. The leg has almost a complete 360 degree of movement, and this, coupled with these abnormally large, striated leg muscles and their viscous 'killing claw', their center claw, we can deduce that a Raptor's favorite and perhaps most effective attack came from the air...".
Why did Tom care? He was about to be torn to shreds! He barely brought the gun up in time, and just as the Raptor was closing on him for the final kick, Tom's finger curled around the trigger and pulled it to the stop. A single, huge slug exploded out the muzzle like an angry hornet. It took the Raptor in the center of the chest and threw it back, out of the air.
Tom barely had the chance to admire his amazing shot when something flashed in his peripheral vision.
If he had been the normal Tom, he would have been struck down, finished for good. He wouldn't have stood a chance. As it was, he barely got out of the way in time. The only thing that saved him was a newfound speed in his limbs, one that he didn't recall having before. He had always scored mediocre in the reflex tests.
The third Raptor flashed out of nowhere, flanking Tom, using the other two's death as a distraction. Tom saw it out of the corner of his eye. It was coming in from the side, just as he had been taught ages ago, during training. Watch your flanks. Watch your flanks. Watch your flanks. Had he listened? No.
Tom dove forward, no coherant plan in mind, just a burning desire to live, to see another day. He was lucky. As he dove, the Raptor sunk it's claws in the space he had occupied no more than half a second ago. However, the Raptor's momentum carried it past Tom, and eventually the Raptor smashed into the far wall.
Saved by inertia, was what Tom would modestly proclaim years later. That and his luck of the devil.
The Raptor sat dazed where it lay, unable to comprehend what had happened. Tom walked up to it and mercilessly shot it to pieces. All Raptors down. For now.
Tom heard muffled growls from the other door that lead to the hallway, and he jumped over to the security desk and locked it. The other door was still unlocked, and he went back into the Biolabs, where Dr. Stephens was laying. He dragged him into the Security checkpoint, and layed him down gently next to West. He surveyed them both after bringing a first-aid kit. Not the cheap super-market kind, this was one of the things that Paramedics and the like used, with a few add-ons.
Add-ons including a shot of altered Vitamin E, which accelerated a man's healing rate by 300%. Dr. Stephens had a few broken ribs, a fractured ankle, and his left arm was broken. However, West's leg, which had been set with a cast, was now off center. And was cut up everywhere. He was bleeding severely from a nasty gash on his head, and three marks ran all the way from his upper thigh to below his knee. He had various smaller cuts all over his body, and his usually blond hair looked strawberry colored. West needed first attention.
Tom cleaned and bound the gashes as best he could, then tried to re-set the leg. He wasn't a great medic, though, and he wasn't sure if he got it right. Next he bound up his ribs, after removing the serrated claw that was lodged between the eighth and ninth ribs. Tom then gave him the shot of Vitamin E, and also a shot of morphine. Tom bet West would like that. Most people became addicted to morphine after their first shot. Now for Dr. Stephens.
Tom bound up his chest, bandaged and splinted his ankle, and made a sling for his arm. He gently shook Dr. Stephens to wakefulness.
“Can I help you?” He asked automatically, and then jumped back abruptly. “Oh, Tom, it's you!”
“Yeah, and West's here too. He's not doing so well. Excuse me for a moment, I have to call for help. Watch West, and treat him in any way you can.” Tom left, and walked over to the Satellite phone. He called the nearest base, Facility 2.
“You have reached the Emergency Hotline at USA Research Facility 2, channel secure. State your problem.”
"Thank God! This is Captain Thomas Lane of Facility 1. I need a strike team immediately! Our base has been overwhelmed by Dinosaurs. We need help, we need it professional and we need it fast!”
“Please state clearance code Alpha-3-1-1."
Tom's brain raced frantically, struggling to remember the access codes. After a pause of a couple seconds with the radioman on the other end waiting impatiently, Tom remembered suddenly and uttered a long, unitelligable string of letters and numbers.
"Yes sir, they're on their way. Do you need a medical team as well?”
Med team! Tom thought hysterically “Yes! I have two survivors down here with me, and their might be more as well. I suggest you send in Orcas or a Chinook. There's gonna be some blood. Over.”
“Roger, your goodies are on the way via Orcas. ETA, fifteen minutes.” Tom sighed with relief. Scarcely three seconds later, he heard a gunshot, and he whirled to see Dr. Stephens wielding a Webley Mk VI, a revolver of incredible power. He shifted his head a little more, and he saw that a Raptor had just taken a .44 inch bullet directly in the face. It dropped to the ground, a gaping hole in its head.
Dr. Stephens was breathing heavily, and he grimaced at the site of the floor being rapidly covered with slick, dark red blood. He turned and laughed at Tom's amazed expression.
“Don't think you're the only one around here who knows how to shoot a gun!” He smiled. Tom recovered quickly, glancing at West, who was beginning to stir.
Soon enough, he roused completely, and gratefully took Tom's hand. Tom helped him into his chair behind the desk. West spoke after a moment,
"I'm sorry, sir. We just didn't see them. For some reason the cameras weren't working, and I was trying to fix them when the door just, opened. Someone had unlocked it, but it wasn't anyone in this room because I was sitting right in front of the controls the entire time. The door just came open, and the next thing I knew the other guy," He pointed to the soldier on the floor, "Was throwing his arms up and shaking, then he collapsed on the floor. I didn't see what happened, but when I turned around, I had a gun at my head. The gun immediately reversed and the guy whacked me with the stock. Next thing I know you're standing over me."
West stopped and gaped at Tom.
“What? What is it?” Tom asked helplessly. West wordlessly pointed to a mirror. Tom gasped.
