Page 23 of Drenched

At first, they seemed fine, wandering their cages, sniffing the food dishes. But after an hour, it started. Willy curled up in a corner, his breathing shallow. The other two followed, their tiny bodies trembling, their fur losing its shine.

Kim’s eyes darted between the cages and her notes. “It’s working.”

She was right. The mice were getting sicker. Their movements slowed. The curiosity faded from their eyes. It was horrible, but necessary.

When they were weak enough, we moved on to the algae.

The process of making the serum dragged. The algae stuck to everything. We had to filter it, dilute it, then run it through the centrifuge to isolate the active compounds. Kim worked insilence, her shoulders tight. I watched her measure the doses, the pale green liquid shimmering faintly in the syringe.

“Five percent,” she muttered. “Anything more could kill them.”

We started with Willy again. He barely moved, his small chest rising in uneven, labored spurts. I lifted him gently, keeping him steady as Kim injected the serum. He flinched but didn’t make a sound.

The other mice squirmed weakly, but they were too sick to fight. When we finished, all three curled up, looking more like clumps of fur than living creatures.

We waited again.

The storm hammered the windows, and the fluorescent lights buzzed above. I sat on a stool, eyes locked on Willy’s cage, silently willing him to move. The others were quiet too, breath shallow, bodies tense.

Then it happened.

Willy’s leg twitched. Just a small jerk, but enough to make me sit up.

“Did you see that?” My voice came out hoarse.

Kim leaned closer. “Look at his fur.”

It thickened, healthier than before. His breathing steadied. He stretched, tiny paws pressing against the cage floor.

The second mouse lifted its head, sniffing the air. Its eyes cleared, movements quickening. The third mouse stirred, its fur gleaming under the harsh lights.

“It’s a miracle,” Kim whispered, eyes wide with disbelief.

Jonathan, of course, couldn’t hold it in.

“This is it.” He stepped closer, eyes bright with excitement. “Do you know what this means? We could, “

“Jonathan.” My voice cut through, sharp. “This means nothing if we can’t get out of here.”

He blinked, as if the idea hadn’t crossed his mind. “We’ll escape. We have to. This is too important.”

I didn’t argue, but something felt wrong. Willy’s movements were too quick, too sharp. My thoughts drifted to Amanda, her pale skin, her whispered warnings about the light.

“Test them in sunlight,” I said.

Kim hesitated, then nodded. We moved the cages to the window and pulled back the blinds.

The first mouse screamed. A high-pitched, piercing sound. Its fur crumbled. Skin split. The body twisted, withered. Dead in seconds.

The second mouse shriveled to a husk.

I yanked Willy’s cage into the shade. He writhed, paws clawing at the air as his fur fell away. I reached in, trying to help, but it was useless. His death was slower. More painful.

Tears blurred my eyes as I set the cage down.

“They’re dead,” Kim whispered, her voice shaking.

I wiped my face with my sleeve. “Every single one.”

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