Their Fragile Strength

Specimen

It has been hours since we started pouring over these debunked scientific articles and we have come nowhere near the end of the pile. Julian sits spinning in his chair groaning about wasting the day on fictional stories written by bored scientists. I ignored all his complaints and rants. Hours ago I had grabbed a magnifying glass and pen and started highlighting and adding notes in the margins. Even knowing the absurdity of these stories I find them oddly satisfying.

I flip through page after page and at some point I am so zoned into reading I couldn’t hear Julian rambling or spinning in his chair. As I finish each journal I automatically file it into the five piles I had created based on actual scientific research, quality of journalism, and medical accuracy. For some reason I cant yet tell all the pictures showing bite marks or footprints and any photographic evidence really catches my eyes. I start seeing similarities and data in them I’m not even sure is there.

As I go to flip the page in a story called “The odd disappearances of people who claimed contact with the supernatural” the page tears and I have to spend a couple minutes lining the images and words and then taping it together. As I am putting the last piece of tape on the corner the lab doors to my right bursts open. Startled I catapult to my feet and stumble backwards a few steps. Julian startles out of his chair and picks it up ready to fight.

Three men walk in with another man dangling in between them. Following closely behind two more make up the rear.They not very gently toss the half conscious man on the floor in front of us. The intimidating man to the left steps forward and his striking gray eyes take us both in. In a demanding voice that booms over us he demands “Fix him up. Do whatever it takes and destroy the evidence.” His voice in it’s power matches the figure that calculatingly sizes us up with carrot orange hair and an earpiece only discernible because his hair is cropped close to his scalp. He wears a tailored suit that embraces his tall sculpted shoulders and tapers off down his long torso with the only adornment being a clip at the edge of his lapel that has a thin wire that disappears.

He doesn’t wait for my response. He looks to the other four men near him and points. The men walk in different directions, two go towards the doors, one on either side. One walks further into the room and starts looking around the lab occasionally bending down to look under tables laden with telescopes and behind imaging machines. The last one just takes a few steps closer to Julian and stares him down.

Julian continues to hold the chair up and holds his stand with his legs spaced apart and one leg behind the other. He looks very irritated and by the raised right brow daring the broad shouldered, muscular stiff lipped agent in front of him to do something, I knew it wouldn’t take much for him to do something stupid against these men that I presume are well armed. Thinking fast of a way to diffuse the situation, I step into doctor mode or at least what I assume a medical doctor would do.

“Bring him to the specimen table and move everything from the table neatly to the writing table.” I point to the tables I was talking about and purposely walk in between Julian and the stern man with the dark almost black hair with grays edging in on the sides to physically touch the writing table I was talking about. I start to pile the articles Julian and I were reading earlier together in alternating landscape and portrait sides. Once they were piled I moved them to the floor on the side of the table before turning to tap Julian on the arm and ask “Can you help me direct them, please?”

Julian slowly backs away and puts his chair down. When he finally faces me I see a twitch developing under his left eye. I want to talk it through with him and make him feel better but I don’t know how. I myself don’t even understand what is going on or who these men are. I want to ask them who are you? Or why are you here? But I look at carrot tops face and I decide against it.

I walk over to a a PA system on the wall; pressing the speak button I speak into it “Dr. Byant, please come to the 3rd floor."

Walking down the aisle back to the specimen table felt like a funeral march. I don't know who these men are or what's going on but I sense danger when it’s present, and these men were screaming danger. At the specimen table, carrot tops and the other agent Mr. Clean wannabe were roughly removing my precious and expensive equipment and tossing it around on the floor on nearby tables like that one table alone doesn’t have a half a million dollars worth of equipment. I can feel myself heating up, skin flushed, hot faced and give-a-damn busted. With both fists balled up I come to a halt only a foot away from carrots tops and demand “What exactly do you think you’re doing?” His arrogant look says it all but he says very calmly “I'm freeing up your table. What materials do you need to stitch’em up?”

Pissed off and disgusted by his off-putting manner I barely manage to control my voice when I grit out “Pick it all up and bring it gently to the writing table. If you cannot manage that simple f*****g task, then get the hell out of my lab.”

Carrot top acts like I just slapped him and Mr Clean looks like a deflated balloon. If I wasn’t so mad, their reactions might have been rather comical. But I am mad and there’s nothing funny about men I don’t know barging into my lab and sanctum and treating my colleague and I like we’re ants under their magnifying glass. I swipe my thick kinky hair out of my face and am about to close that distance between ginger and I when I feel a hand on my shoulder staying me. Looking over, Julian's right arm is on my shoulder and he’s gently shaking his head. He inclines his head to his right where a stiff lipped muscle man is casually standing with a small semi relaxed in his arms. His comfortable, relaxed pose is nothing but a facade, his eyes are alert and his expression steely. I glance back at Julian and for the first time I realize someone is behind him.

I fully turn in the direction of the newcomer. “Dr. Bryant, thank you for coming!” I go towards the doctor who has on more than one occasion come to my aid. He smiles shyly and says with sincerity “you know i’m always willing to help out a friend. What do we have here?” he looks around at all the men and the semi in muscle man's arms and furrows his brows. “Is there a new specimen you need help identifying?” He sounds more nervous with each word and once he's taken in all five agents he shifts nervously.

“Don’t worry about those assholes,” I say firmly.

I register the shock on his face and realize this is the most unfriendly of an encounter he has ever had with me. I feel bad for displacing his perfect and friendly image of me. But i have no time for pleasantries and I want these brutes out of my lab right away.

“You have experience in a medical facility right?”

He looks perplexed but replies by nodding. “Can you stitch a man up quick doc?” Both Bryant and I looked over at Julian, surprised. He’s not said much since all this mess started.

“It’s been quite a few years but i remember the basics. Who needs fixing up?”

He’d barely gotten all the words out when carrot top and the man who had been doing the rounds earlier both bend under the beaker table and grab a now fully unconscious man and hoist him unto the now empty specimen table. With my attention back on them I point to all my stuff they had manhandled and point back towards the writing table. All three of us, Julian, the doc and I head to the sinks to wash our hands. We grab gloves which are to the sides of the sinks and grab lab coats and aprons to put over the coats.

We all approach the man on the table. When we are at the table everyone takes a collective gasp. Doc though looks the least stunned. He grabs the leg we were all looking at and turns it this way and that. He looks curiously at the gouge on this man’s leg. Then he lifts the leg, repeats the process to the other leg and when satisfied, turns to us. “

“How did this injury come about?” He looks curious and gleeful and even when he saw our perplexed expressions he made no attempt to tamp down his excitement. Julian and I glance at each other and then we both turned to the men behind us stationed every few feet up until the large purple double doors i’d had painted to interrupt the monotony of an all white lab. This time Mr. Clean shifts, steps forward and clears his throat before saying “We are not at disclosure to discuss that information but what i can tell you is that it’s a bite and ever since getting it he’s not been doing too good.” He stops talking for a moment but then seems to think of something else before adding “He was one of us miss. He was a good man, if it’s not asking too much, could you make sure he’s not in too much pain?”

He looks like he’s going through an internal struggle and all his pain is expressed on his face but he quickly steals himself and schools his face. Coming face to face once again with the detached government agent I remember their calloused way of barging in and mistreating my tools and my colleague and I don't feel bad for him. A part of me whispers You’re being harsh, no? But i don't care. I nod and turn back to the doc. He looks straight up gleeful.