Page 40 of Green Ravens

“I don’t care if they’re the ideal candidates. They’reabductedcandidates,” the same man stressed.

What the fuck…abducted? From where?

“You promised their survival of their recovery mission would be reported to their commands… That was three weeks ago!” Dr. Calhoun hollered, his voice like a nail being driven into Oakley’s forehead.

What mission?

His mind was dark, so full of holes and emptiness he didn’t even feel like a human being. He was a piece of a person. He wanted to know what the hell was happening to him.

Another low growl emanated from his chest so ferociously it scared him.

“Dr. Calhoun, these men obviously value glory over all. They’ll continue to save lives…on a global scale. We’re not backing out of this project because it’s gotten too real for you. I’ll go to Director Ross if anything goes awry, butIam the overseer of this project, and it’smycall.” The guy sounded like the villain in a slasher film as he lowered his voice to a low snarl. “And my call is to proceed.”

“‘Ideal candidates’?” a female whispered as if this was a conversation none of them should be having. “These men are very resilient, yes, but it doesn’t mean they won’t succumb under the strain of what you’re doing to them. As the ethologist, I have a duty to inform you that inserting the puma DNA and the black hawk’s plasma proteins is radical engineering. You’ve demanded we begin that phase, but the sequences are far from stable.”

Oakley took in the woman’s worried expression as his heart rate tripled. He’d been taken from wherever and was being experimented on, but the rest of the conversation was going over his head.

He didn’t know who he was, but he was positive he wouldn’t have agreed to anything like this. Not even for a million dollars.

An Asian man put his hands up between the four of them and spoke in a calm but insistent tone. “Director Madison, even if Dr. Calhoun’s serums are given in lower dosages, there’s a limit to the amount of another species’ genetics you can force into the human system before a psychosocial collapse becomes unavoidable.”

“Precisely,” the lady added.

The man continued his explanation. “The last human hybrid I worked on showed considerable identity dissolution after several months of consistent treatment. I know these soldiers are remarkably strong, but their cognitionwillcontinue to shiftand their neural pathwayswillrewire in ways we may not be able to control after long.”

Oakley was trying to decipher the scientific jargon, but whatever medicine he was on made it too difficult.

“Dr. Pheung, I hear your concerns, but youwillfollow my directions. Double the dosages and frequency. Our country is in peril, and we need heroes now…not in five years. All I demand is that you do the jobs you were recruited for—and paid generously for, by the way—and submit your results to my office every hour.”

Oakley’s eyelids were getting heavy, but he heard footsteps and the rustling of fabric.

The man who asked to be called Hank grinned. “Unless you want to give back the two-point-two-million-dollar advance you were paid so your wife could receive the groundbreaking medical treatments for her stage four cancer.”

“Doubling! You’ve gone mad. Shame on you, Director Madison!” Dr. Calhoun’s outrage was becoming too much.

Please, stop! Stop yelling!Oakley thought he was going to throw up from the sensory overload.

“I amdonetrying to explain morality and obligation to you. When I leave, my first stop will be to the Department of Human Services, and next to the military base, where I will stay until I’ve spoken directly with their commander, who I’m sure will immediately storm in and shut down this entire operation.”

Oakley squeezed his eyes shut a second after the assistant director pulled a black handgun from his waistband and fired three shots into the raging doctor’s back before he could clear the threshold of the room.

Screams and shouts reverberated and ricocheted off the walls until they slammed into his brain.

The unforgiving sounds of the gunshots and the cries of fear overwhelmed him. His pulse stuttered in a desperate rhythm as the shockwaves from the shots shook his bones.

He tensed all over, his fight-or-flight kicking into full gear, but he couldn’t run. So he did the only thing he could and released a vicious growl into the room that made the remaining abductors spin around.

“Fuck, he’s awake!” someone hollered. “How is he awake? That shouldn’t be possible.”

Oakley wanted to slam his hands over his ears, but something tight and thick was secured around his wrists.

“It doesn’t matter how, just put him back under, hurry!” the assistant director barked.

No, no, no. I want out!

A sharp prick pierced the sensitive skin in the crook of Oakley’s right arm.

Slowly, his body began to feel as if it were sinking into the surface he was lying on, and once again, the world faded into a dull blur, and the few memories he’d attempted to conjure dissolved like smoke.

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