The sick SOB is running a lab of death down here. A Frankenstein’s monster butcher shop. And I’m about to become one of his experiments. But at least I am regaining my strength and muscle movement. If I can move, I have a semblance of a chance of making it out of here alive.
I try my best to get a good look at the place.
It’s like a four-walled hospital morgue with the bright lights and tiled walls. I spot a long counter with a stainless-steel top and glass cabinets above it. Several long steel shelves are connected to the walls. The shelves are filled with all sorts of crap. But something catches my attention more than the others. Without the full use of my neck it’s difficult to make out, but from down here I can tell it’s something that’s been preserved inside a big clear jar. At f
