Dr. Marcus sat facing his slides, looking over the data and frowning at his results. Seven months. Seven long and miserable months had he sat in this dark, cold and closed off room, testing, waiting, testing again. The time had not flown. Each day he wondered if what he was looking for even existed, if by chance he had fabricated the results from his first trial. Made up a discovery in order the trap himself here, in this dank and shadowed room. What could he have possibly hoped to find in these samples anyway? Blood from each patient that he’d shipped off to the lake. Hair and stool samples. All to find a certain protien that would help him discern whether it’s provider had the right structures to connect to his source.
The source. That’s where he had first discovered the protiens he was looking for. How could he have forgotten. It was the clock structure, the way time was governed within the cells themselfs. The rythms that allowed patient zero to move thru time and space like moving thru a doorway, just stepping into another reality. If only he had been giving more time with this patient, who was never really here, and never really not here, then he was sure that they could figure it out. Together. Now though, the messages have been coming in flashes, as if his source was somehow suffering a sudden loss of energy, or under a great amount of stress.
Dr. Marcus spun around in his chair, grabbing the phase detector from the table behind him. As he turned back to his work, he noticed a slight change in the light behind him. He droped the detector on the desk in front of him and reached for the gun instead.
Categories: Matthew Newton