The Potion: A genetic engineering thriller!

Chapter 10

They were out there.

Watching his every move. Even if he couldn’t prove it, Ronald knew that someone had spilled the beans about his creation. He secretly wondered if it had been one of his colleagues who ratted him out. Everyone had been acting on edge in the office, even if Ronald did only show up two days out of the week. There was just this uncomfortable aura that bloomed every time he stepped into a room.

They all knew.

He could hardly take it anymore. Anytime anyone looked at him a second too long, his mind went to the worst-case scenario. They were plotting to kill him; or worse, ruin his credibility as a scientist. He’d rather be dead than be discredited. He wasn’t sure if that made him the crazy one or not.

The only person he trusted was Dr. Marissa...Anna. She understood the gravity of the situation. It had been she who suggested getting rid of all the evidence in the office in the first place. But what if she simply said that so he wouldn’t suspect her if she went to their boss? Had it been a trick to cover her own tracks? Maybe he didn’t trust her, after all.

The team receptionist startled him when she knocked on the glass door of his office and he nearly wet himself.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice a little higher pitched than usual.

“Dr. Cameron has requested to speak to you in his office at your earliest convenience,” she replied.

“Can it wait?” he pleaded, desperately not wanting to meet with his boss.

“It did sound quite urgent, sir.”

He knew.

Grabbing his keychain, which now included the sacred thumb drive, Ronald shoved his trembling hands into his pockets and raised his chin high. He just had to make everyone believe that he was fine, that everything was alright, and he wasn’t going mad. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

When he stepped into the hallway, the cubicles fell into whispered hushes, and he started to sweat. They were all talking about him, he could feel it in his very bones that it was the truth. Fortunately, his boss’s office was only three doors down, so it was a quick walk and he was safe inside the confines of the frosted glass walls.

“Ahh...Dr. Clark,” Dr. Cameron chimed from his Executive leather chair and ponderously large desk, his lilting Oxford accent lending an assumed authority to whatever he said. “Please, do have a seat,” he motioned.

“Thank you, sir.”

Ronald sighed before sliding into one of the cushioned seats on the other side of his desk. His knees bobbed up and down 79 uncontrollably, despite all efforts to sit still. Dr. Cameron's eyes flickered to his trembling body but held his tongue.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you in the middle of the workday, especially when I know you and the team are working so hard to get this sample product ready to go for the presentation, but I do feel like this takes precedence.”

“What does Dr. Cameron?” Ronald asked, his voice laced with annoyance.

“Your mental health,” he insinuated. “It’s come to my attention that you haven’t been yourself lately, and as your supervisor, I feel as though I’m obligated to assist any way I know how.”

“I...I don’t understand,” he volleyed, suspicion beginning to take root.

“You’ve been under a lot of stress, and we all admire you for your hard work over the years, but the company doesn’t want to see you fall apart over something like this. We’re more than willing to get you the help you need to get back on track.”

“I’m not unwell, sir,” he spat in disgust. “I assure you, I am perfectly fine!”

“Perfectly fine?” Cameron tilted his head to the side and flashed Ronald a pity smile. “Do you not see yourself, Ronald? You haven’t stopped fidgeting since the moment you stepped into my office. You’re clearly not eating well as you’ve lost weight, and quite frankly, I can’t say for certain if you’ve even been getting any sleep. You look like a zombie, if I’m being honest.”

His words were like a slap to the face. After everything he’d done for this company, for humanity, with developing the 80 serum, this was the gratitude he got? Being reprimanded for not taking better care of himself?

“It’s nothing...I promise. I’ll get it together!...you’ll see!” he retorted defensively.

“Dr. Clark,” Dr. Cameron went on, his sympathy tinged with mild irritation, “I’ve decided to place you under a temporary leave of absence. A stress leave if you will. Six weeks, and I’ve signed you up for therapy. You will not be able to return until the psychologist assures me that they’re seeing positive results with your treatment.”

“Am I being punished for working too hard?” Ronald gasped. “That hardly seems fair.”

Dr. Cameron stood up from his desk and moved towards the door. “This isn’t punishment, Ronald. I’m saving your life. Trust me, you’ll thank me once this is all over. You can leave your things in your office since you’ll be back in a month and a half. But this is effective immediately.”

Clenching his fists as tight as he could, Ronald simply nodded and bid Dr. Cameron farewell. With his keys already in his pocket, he walked right past his office and toward the elevator, not turning back even as Dr. Marissa called out to him. He had work to do, and it was no longer in this building, but back home, in his basement.

***

Ronald barely remembered the ride home.

He couldn’t say whether or not he blew through stop signs or red lights. He did make it home in one piece, and there were no dents or parts missing off of his vehicle, so that was a good 81 sign. He parked in his driveway just as he always did and went inside through the garage.

There was no need to turn on any lights, as he knew the layout of his brownstone by heart. Instead of going to the kitchen and grabbing a bite to eat, he headed straight for his lab downstairs. Now that he was no longer in Dr. Cameron’s office, his words were starting to sink in. Perhaps his boss was right. He’d have to give the therapist a call to set up his first appointment. As long as he maintained a regular lifestyle, he should be safe.

Flicking on the lights in the lab, he was just about to grab his phone from his pocket when an arm wrapped around his throat.

Ronald had no idea what to do. He let out a tiny yelp, but a gloved hand came down over his mouth and silenced it. He struggled with the intruder, the two of them knocking over things on the tables and crashing into the chairs. Even though Ronald was getting into his older years, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. That was until he quickly realized, it had been a cloth placed over his mouth, not a gloved hand.

Blinking out of a daze, Ronald’s head lulled forward, and his limbs felt tingly. He squinted at the bright light of his lab, taking a look around at the chaos and mayhem.

It made him cringe. He was a man of organization and cleanliness. Seeing his hard work in this state made his skin crawl. His head fell back for a moment, but he steadied himself, and realized he was tied to a chair.

A large man loomed over top of him, his face concealed with a scarf and a hat. He was Caucasian, that much he could tell, and had dark, emotionless eyes.

“What do you want from me?” Ronald slurred, an odd taste in his mouth. Chloroform? They still use that stuff?

“For starters, the password to your research database,” the man said, his voice unnervingly emotionless. “It’ll make all of this much easier.”

“How did you find me?”

“No one can hide from us. No matter how many precautions you take,” the man mocked with a sinister chuckle.

“Did James tell you?”

“No.” The quick, matter-of-fact response made Ronald feel better, knowing he hadn’t been betrayed by James.

The man squatted down so they were at eye level. He looked over Ronald as if he would get the answers if he stared him down long enough. Ronald wasn’t about to c***k that easily. Not after dedicating his whole life to The Potion.

“How did you find me?” Ronald snarled definitely, the chloroform beginning to wear off.

It was probably a stupid question to ask, and it wasn’t going to get him out of this situation, but after everything that had happened over the past few months, he needed to know.

“The second you downloaded your encrypted files to your cloud, we were able to track you. The people I work for,” he paused for a deep, self-satisfied breath, “they want what you have. They need the formula.”

“If the files were encrypted, how do they know what it is?” 83 The man laughed. “They have code breakers, ya know. Apparently, your research will help them solve humanity's problems...and open a gateway to obscene profits for quite some time. Good work, Doc!” he goaded.

“You’re going to have to kill me because I’ll never tell you,” Ronald declared. “So you might as well get it over with.”

“Kill you?” The man stood up and moved towards Ronald’s hands, using a pocket knife to cut his hands free. “You’re a brilliant man, Dr. Ronald. They don’t just murder people who think like you; you’re an asset. With time, you’ll be useful, too. Now be a good little scientist and don’t make me hurt you.”

The second Ronald’s hands were free he headbutted his kidnapper with the back of his skull, causing him to fall back into the metal table behind them. The knife went sliding across the floor, and Ronald dove for it. But the intruder was quick, too quick, and reached it just as Ronald jumped onto it. The blade pierced his abdomen, in a place that he’d never recover from. Not unless he was within a mile of the nearest hospital.

The man yanked the knife free, and blood pooled all around them, despite Ronald immediately putting pressure on the wound.

“Damn it!” the man cursed, getting to his feet. “I told you…” he growled from gritted teeth. “It wasn’t supposed to come to this,” he muttered before fleeing up the basement steps.

Ronald propped himself up on the side of his desk and attempted to take his phone out to dial 911, but he was only able to dial 9. He died before he was able to press 1. Hope for humanity had been unable to call for help.