Page 41 of Green Ravens

The last utterance he heard was the frightening threat of the man who’d just murdered someone in cold blood.

“Let what happened to Dr. Calhoun be a cruel but definite lesson.No onegets out. Youwilldo your jobs…or else.”

Chief Styles Sawyer

There it was again.

The low growl echoing from somewhere in the building. It didn’t emanate fear. It was mournful, like the calling of an animal for its lost mate.

His chest was tight and his heartbeat wildly from the recent dose of whatever the fuck they were pumping into his bloodstream. It made his skin burn like fire, and the pulsing in his veins sent adrenaline flowing hot and fast.

He felt strong but restless and dark.

He should’ve been fatigued because he hadn’t eaten in weeks—he was unsure exactly how many—but he had a feeling it’d been quite a while. He must be getting fed through one of the many tubes inserted into his side.

Sawyer had no clue what the complex machinery surrounding the uncomfortable slab of metal he was bound to was, but it was well out of reach. The machines whirred and beeped day and night, a constant reminder of his inescapable dilemma.

Sawyer wanted to get up, to move. He’d been lying for too long and feeling trapped in a body that wasn’t his. Over time, he’d deduced he was captive. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be strapped down.

He opened his eyes and counted the squares on the ceiling from one corner to the farthest one from him.

He locked in on a spider moving over its web. Somehow, each delicate strand shimmered in the dimness. He could see the details of the intricate weaving as if it were inches away and not clear across the room.

What’s happening to me?

People came in and out on heavy rotation. People in long white lab coats and goggles would tinker with the countless wires and tubes attached to just about every part of him, even his feet.

The door to his room opened, and he had to control his reaction to the insensitive fluorescent lights that flashed on and illuminated the lab-like room.

Sawyer feigned sleep, listening for information, recognized, or opportunities he could use to escape his imprisonment.

From the sound of their footfalls and their whispers, there were three of them. But they had little to no scent, as did his environment. Every now and then, he’d catch subtle hints of animals or chemical residue like bleach or antiseptics, but those were faint.

“This one is responding well to the new schedule. Brain activity is strong and multiplying exponentially.”

Another voice whispered, “We can go ahead and combine the Buteogallus serotonin uptake with a dopamine stabilizer. We don’t want any aggressive tendencies that may get out of control.”

Buteogallus?What the fuck is that?Sawyer wanted to scream.

But he had to keep a level head and continue to fake unconsciousness if he was going to formulate a plan.

He’d overheard talk of animalistic tendencies, extreme metabolic stress, genetic tampering, and words like hematopoiesis and pathophysiological responses.

Cold electrode stickers were pressed against his temples and chest before he felt a substance like liquid iron spreading through him.

The medicine or serum singed his insides, distorting his perception of reality and inhibiting his ability to remember who he was and how he’d gotten into this crazy shit.

“Sarah, these guys could end up being biological time bombs that detonate and kill every last one of us.” The same woman who’d been poking and prodding him multiple times a day for weeks sighed. “By the time the treatments are finished, they’ll be ten times stronger, faster, and more intuitive than any human being on this planet.”

“Then justice would be served,” the man droned. “This is wrong. But we can do what the Ravens ask or get shot in the back trying to walk out.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” She sounded as if she were crying. “I’ve spent my entire life studying human and animal behaviors and our connections. My studies were never meant to be manipulated and weaponized like this.”

“Stay strong, Sarah. The best we can do is work day and night to ensure we don’t miscalculate a single formula. Remember to scrutinize every theory, triple and quadruple check our calculations, and keep their vitals and levels under constant observation.”

Sawyer had concluded that these scientists didn’t want to do this and were just as much a hostage as he was. He had to think of a way to get them to risk their lives and help him escape.

But to where?

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