Wolf Strain 7;9;42;50
Wolf Strain 7:9:42:50
The piercing luminosity of the sun radiated down onto the beach below, conquering the shoreline with its dominating presence. This was not an island, it wan an oven. His hands were tender from crawling across the sweltering sand; he was too weak to stand, and too demoralized to try. There was nothing to shade him from the sun; the island was a barren terrain, essentially an isolated dessert. His vision faded to black.
He was too numb to be alive; only death could have vanquished the pain he felt, and bring his senses back to this state of equilibrium. His vision was still absent; blackened. The subtle movements he attempted to make induced a warped sense of confusion into the situation; he thought he was shifting his arm, but something he could not feel was restraining any further motion.
The voices in the background were interpreted, by his brain, as a piercing, oscillation of rings and other high pitched tones. "The sedative should wear off over the next half-hour," spoke a seemingly American male voice, "then we can prep him for the tests."
"Let me know what you have planned and I'll go make the proper lab arrangements." The voice that replied was that of a stern woman, blatantly professional and focused. But of course, he had no ability to comprehend any of their words, as his hearing remained in turmoil.
Within minutes he was stuck with an epiphany; his death was, in fact, a concept of the future: He was still alive. His excitement was amplified, and confirmed by the slurred and distorted dialect that pervaded the atmosphere. The restrained gasps he produced alerted the staff of his consciousness, and they rushed to his bedside.
"Can you talk?" spoke the man, slowly, with clarity, "Do you understand me?"
His first intent was to nod, but his muscle control has yet to regain sufficient usage; he simply met the doctor with a stare.
"Perhaps he requires extended recovery time."
"Indeed," the doctor turned to him, "We will be back within the hour, stay put until we return."
It was hours since the medical staff had left, and he was growing restless. The itching on his legs and arms forced him to stand up; he had to move about the room. The steel floor was chilling to his feet; possessing the exact temperature to irritate him without being significantly distracting. He slowly, carefully stood up, like a man aboard a boat in disturbed waters. His gaze panned across the room, admiring the compulsively polished equipment and machinery; some of which he had never seen before. An interesting smell interrupted his surveying, one in which he did not recognize. It seemed natural, eerily common; but unique and somewhat alerting, as if connected instinctually to a feral necessity. A sudden "blip" tweaked his ear, and his focus turned towards to sink. He rapidly scratched his upper right arm as he sauntered in the direction of the auditory stimulation. Miniscule water droplets fell from faucet, with a screech he turned the valve, and the blips discontinued. He also noticed that the peculiar smell was absent from detection.
As he turned towards his bed, a reflection of him self became momentarily visible, on the reflective surface of a nearby table. What he saw forced him to look back. His arms were a blue-ish tint: Not the skin, but hair. It wasn't of a normal length; however, the hair was short, bristly, like a 5 O'clock shadow. Panic stupefied him as stumbled forward, eager to identify any other abnormalities. And that he did: his eyes were tinted yellow, like a dusty piece of gold, maintaining a distinctive colour, but no reflective component. It was enough to send him in the complete opposite direction, franticly searching for help, and answers. The hallway was metallic like his room, but fairly dim in comparison: He was moving too quickly to comprehend the details, flailing around corners like a dog on hardwood floor. Each stride he took was met with a swift clicking sound. He skidded to a stop and examined his... paws? His feet had become furry; in the same blue shade that inhabited his arms. The clicking noise had come from his claws, extending from his paws enough to make contact with the ground. Time froze: He raised his arms slowly into his vision; rotating them methodically in order to see them from all angles. Panic was overwhelmed by astonishment as he ran his paw-like hands through the thick fur on his arm. He could see the black tip of his nose, and twitched it slightly as if expecting it not to move.
A blaring siren accompanied by flashes of red pervaded the facility. A voice from the intercom, urgent, yet clear, accompanied the chaos, "Attention, test subject for vile 'Wolf Strain 7;9;42;50' has left the treatment room. Repeat: test subject for vile 'Wolf Strain 7;9;42;50' has left the treatment room."
His new body was much faster than before, he didn't even take time to absorb the concept of being a science experiment; he simply wanted to leave. It took one last turn and he his vision was in direct line with a large staircase, "Must be underground," he figured. Plowing through the door at the top of the stairs he began to sprint through the sand; colder now, as it was night. He took a direct line towards a flickering fire he saw in the distance. The fire was surrounded by multiple people who were dressed as if they were doctors, or scientist.
"What the hell is going on!?" he growled as his knees met the sand before him.
"Well, well, well," replied a voice he vaguely recalled from earlier, this time in a more sinister tone, "it appears our puppy has gotten out of his cage."
"This doesn't even make sense! Why is this happening to me!?" The unwavering expressions of content among the faces before him were enough for him to realize he had no friendless in this situation.
"Carl."
"Yes sir," replied a man from amongst the group.
"Be sure to note an increase in aggression, and the ability to speak."
"Right away sir," responded the scientist and he made some quick scribbles in his notebook.
The instantaneous piercing sensation in the back of neck was the last feeling he grasped before once again fading to black.
To be continued.