Page 7 of Creature
He settled back on the stone floor and triedto imagine he was grass growing in the warm sunshine. He would havethousands of bright blades, each reaching joyously upward. Ifsomeone stomped on him, no matter. He would bend for a time, butsoon he’d stand upright again. He would find strength in hispliancy. He would—
Metal screamed.
John curled immediately into a tight ball,tucking his face into his chest and covering his head with hisarms, so he wouldn’t see the light when it flooded his cell. Butunlike the few other times this had happened, he didn’t crawl intoa corner. He had the sun now, and he refused to give up thatprecious warmth for even a minute.
“Here we go!” The familiarvoice of the chief. Even though the chief had never touched him—hadnever even come particularly close—John was terrified of him. Johnwas certain the chief had the power to destroy him. Orworse.
“Fuck!”
John didn’t recognize the second voice, buthe’d heard others like it. Younger men would stand beside thechief, exclaim in horror, and then refuse whatever task the chiefhad asked of them. John didn’t know whether he ought to feel reliefat the refusals, but he hated their disgust and shock. He was justJohn. They ought to be repulsed by his situation, not by him.
“W-whatisit?” the younger mandemanded shakily.
Him, not it,but John didn’t say it out loud. They neverlistened to him anyway.
“Did you ever readShelley’s book?” asked the chief.
“What?”
“No, I don’t suppose youdid. You’re not the literary type. And the films obscured theoriginal message, I’m afraid. In the book, the monster was rejectedby his maker—and by society as a whole—because he was hideous. Thedead aren’t pretty, Lowe, not even when they regain the semblanceof life.”
“This is….” The youngerman—Lowe—paused and cleared his throat audibly. “Did Swan dothis?”
“No, no. Swan’s not thefirst to have these aspirations. Several decades ago, a fellow inOakland made similar attempts, and he was successful, as you cansee. Fortunately we caught up to him before he could do muchdamage.”
“What happened tohim?”
The chief chuckled. “He’s dead, and quitepermanently so. We burned his body to ashes. But we seized a lot ofinteresting evidence as well, including this. We studied thiscreature for some time, gathering what information we could, andsince then we’ve kept it in storage. I thought it might eventuallyprove useful. And it has.”
In the silence thatfollowed, John tried to understand what the chief had said. Theonly part that made sense, however, wasstudied. That raised memories ofchains and straps, of hard hands and ruthless eyes, of scalpels andprods and fire. “No,” he moaned into his own chest, even knowing itwould do no good. “Please.”
Neither Lowe nor the chief responded, butone of them took a couple of hesitant steps closer. John slowlyuncurled himself enough to look. The chief remained just inside theopen door, but Lowe was nearer, his body tense and handsome facedrawn into a frown. Unlike the others who’d come with the chief,Lowe didn’t wear a suit. Instead he had on denim trousers, a plainwhite shirt with no tie, and a pale blue jacket. His coal-dark hairwas longer than the crewcuts the other men had sported, and despitehis clear distress, his brown eyes held surprising warmth.
“Is it… dangerous?” Loweasked.
“No, not at all. It’sextremely weak, in fact. But that won’t matter for ourpurposes.”
Lowe cast a quick glanceover his shoulder. “Whatareour purposes? I don’t understand.”
“I told you—bait. If Swandoesn’t find you enticing enough, you can lure him closer byshowing him this creature. However far he’s come in hisexperiments, he’ll certainly be intrigued by evidence of priorsuccess.”
“Oh.” Lowe had relaxedslightly, and now he gnawed on a thumbnail. “But… I’m supposed toconvince Snow that I know how to… do this?” He waved at John.“’Cause I don’t—”
“No. The only way youcould do that is if you were aware of the processes, and thatinformation will not be given to you.”
Lowe scowled. “Right. ’Cause I’m not even anagent.”
“But perhaps you can be.If this assignment goes well. In any case, we have a credible talefor you to give Swan. I’ll give you the details later.”
That must have satisfied Lowe, who turnedhis full attention back to John. He came two steps closer andstopped again. This was more than any of the previous men had done,and although Lowe was frowning, at least his lips weren’t curled inrepulsion.
Although John had no faithhe’d be successful, he had totry. Otherwise, when he was alone inthe darkness of his cell, he’d despise himself too. “I’m John. Helpme, please.”
Lowe’s eyes widened and he backed off apace. “It… he… he can—”
“The creature can speak,”said the chief. “It’s sentient to some extent, although I don’texpect it’ll be teaching at Harvard. But as I said, you needn’tworry about it being dangerous.”
“That’s not—”
