Page 46 of Milk
I was stunned. As the mercenary walked away, it dawned on me. Those prisoners were building a secret facility at gunpoint.
I needed answers. “What’s happening here? What are you building?”
“A bunker, son. A big one.”
“A bunker? I-I thought you wanted help with your farming business? Why does a farm need a bunker?”
“I never said I was in farming. I said I was in Milk,” my father’s eyes lit with malice.
“Is there any difference?”
He just laughed, then gave me the tour that would haunt me for the rest of my life. He told me about the facility in occupied China, where Japanese scientists in World War 2 experimented on humans. I knew all that, of course, but as my fatherwalked me towards the half-finished underground complex, he explained more.
“It wasn’t just about torture methods and experimental gas weapons. Japan was undergoing a terrible shortage of milk and cattle. Cattle weren’t very calorie-efficient to grow in times of war. That’s when a brilliant man saw the captive population in China as an opportunity. He’d put their newly conquered territory to good use.”
“W-what?”
“I know. It sounds absurd. Especially considering Asian women have such small tits, but they were onto something. That ‘something’ was very profitable.”
I should have known what he meant, but I didn’t; not fully. Then he opened the door and showed me the captive women. At least, they’d once been women. They had uneven limbs, horns, and tufts of hair. They whined and cried in pain. Those who could speak, begged to be released or killed.
“Not all of them produce milk. The Formula works, but it’s not stable. Yet. We’re getting closer with each iteration. Batch 16 seemed very promising, but the group had compromised immune systems and were prone to infections. We went back a few steps with batch 17 as you can see. Not our finest work.”
“Batch17? How many women have you-”
“Killed? Most of them. Those that can’t produce milk have no use. Killing them is kindness, so they don’t leave in pain.” He sighed, like it was a shame to lose somethinguseful. Emphasis onthing. In his eyes, they weren’t people, they were projects.
I didn’t want to believe it, but I could not deny what I was seeing. My father was crueler than I ever believed. Just seeing all those women in cages, thinking about how many more he had killed, and how little that affected him, convinced me that he was a monster. A monster that needed to be stopped.
That night, he took me to meet the science team working on perfecting the formula. Those nervous scientists were obviously there against their will. They were terrified, emaciated, and drained of any will-power. All but one. A woman. As I winced in response to the ‘failed’ outcomes of the experiments, our eyes met. I knew - we knew - that something had to be done about my father. We just needed a plan. I read her name tag, knowing she was likely the only ally I would find, Susan.
The door to the infirmary opened, and Susan and Wren walked in as if summoned from the depths of my Memory. Dr. Yan walked right behind them.
“What’s happening? Why the reunion?”
“Nice to see you too, Carter,” Susan teased.
“That’s not what I mean.” I sighed.
“I just wanted to give the news to all concerned parties at once rather than giving individual updates on this,” Dr. Yan said, always fucking practical. “There’s nothing wrong with Tiffany. The passing out was just an abnormally strong allergic reaction to some of the formula’s inactive ingredients. It’s extremely rare, since we use hypoallergenic ingredients. However, due to her Amish background, I’d wager she hasn’t been exposed to some common chemicals.”
“What are you saying?” Wren asked.
“Currently, her transformation is on course and she’s not in any danger. We’ll keep her sedated now, to avoid destabilizing the process, but she should wake up soon and transform fully in the next couple of days.”
I thanked Dr. Yan with a nod and she left. Susan sighed, approached Tiffany, then looked at me with concern and a knowing edge.
“Have you told her?” She asked
“Told her what?” I replied.
She didn’t answer. There was no need.
I sighed. “No, I haven’t.”
“You need to.”
“Why?”
