The initial swabbing of the specimen’s mouth revealed that the creatures shared common characteristics in line with many land-based mammals—most directly with humans. One of the simplest observations Sarah made was its protrusive, overexaggerated endoskeleton, as well as a sparse crop of white bristly hair growing out at the back of the creature’s bald head that ran down the ridge of its knotted spinal column. With the ribcage nearly bursting through its snug coriaceous skin, Sarah also suspected it might also house a pair of lungs. She runs her hands over the rough texture of damaged skin, searching for anomalies in the bone structure. At the ball of its shoulders and on either side of the pelvis, Sarah discovers large pockets of tissue buildup that felt like cysts; she assumed the creature was double-jointed, which, in theory, would allow them to walk upright like a man or down on all fours as an animal. She would know more about her subjects after opening one of them and examining its brain and abdominal cavity.
Utilizing a portable bone saw to cut through its thick skull, Sarah makes her entry point at the base of the creature’s forehead, rotating evenly around its large bulbous head. She twists counterclockwise and removes the skullcap; it gives off a slimy suction sound as the crown separates from the dense, jutting brow line. Handing the crown to April, the veterinarian then places the cranium in a large stainless steel bowl filled with formaldehyde and buffered water. Sarah then runs a gloved hand delicately over the surface of the brain, taking note of the grossly altered temporal region. With each step, she documents her discoveries by speaking into a handheld tape recorder she had previously placed on a gurney next to the subject.
“Compared to an average human subject, the temporal region of subject A’s brain has been significantly decreased in size. This may suggest the subject suffers from recessed memory and a more than likely primitive behavioral pattern.” Carefully examining each region of the subject’s brain has led Sarah to an unusual but remarkable find. It appeared that the subject also had a largely oversize hypothalamus region, a region of the brain that primarily regulates body temperatures and endocrine functions, such as hunger and thirst, and is widely responsible for daily sleep and wake cycles. It was becoming quite clear that the creatures were both primal and predatory.
“A sallow yellowish membrane covering the optical lenses suggests the subject suffers from extreme light sensitivity and at night may even cause the eyes to glow. In theory, they seem to be exclusively nocturnal and likely to employ some degree of night vision similar to like-minded animals.”
After parting the specimen’s shriveled lacerated lips, Sarah flashes a penlight she retrieves from her coat pocket across the jaws, documenting multiple rows of long, thin, razor-sharp teeth. She finds nothing that might suggest their ability to chew. She surmises that the creatures are exclusively carnivorous, rending the flesh from their prey to swallow it whole. To further understand the creature’s diet and habits, Sarah would need to crack open its rib cage to get a look inside; employing rib sheers to cut through the bones, she opens the chest cavity.
Except for fibrous webbing, that completely shields the heart like a cocoon and a sample of highly corrosive digestive enzymes extracted from the creature’s stomach, as suspected, much of its physiology appears human. Sarah takes note of the creature’s shriveled inoperative large and small intestine, largely suggesting the creature’s inability to perform bowel movements. The absence of any sexual organs makes reproduction an irrelevant issue. Concluding her initial autopsy, Sarah shuts off the tape recorder and replaces her soiled latex gloves with new ones.
“I’m going to check on Russell and Norm’s progress. Sanitize the instruments for reset.”
“Doctor—”
“It’s fine, April. They’re very much lifeless.”
“Yes. Of course, Doctor—immediately.”
“Splendid. I will start with the second specimen just as soon as you finish up.”
* * *
Sarah parts the partitioning curtain, stepping back through. She appears entirely distracted by thought, even amidst the ruckus that Russell and Norman are causing as they argue back and forth over test results. Russell remains adamant in his conclusion, suggesting that the creature’s genetic code was, in fact, largely human, although harboring a dormant alien gene that widely contributes to its extreme mutation. Norman, on the other hand, argues that Russell’s results are preposterous. Heatedly, Norman reminds Russell that it is impossible to splice genes at the level required for such a mutation to take place—not to mention unethical and illegal. Norman turns to Sarah in a heated flurry, demanding she swab each creature again to rerun the tests. Sheriff Byrd and Jack shift uncomfortably as their heads swing back and forth like observers at a grueling tennis match, baffled by the scientific jargon tossed around by the scientists.
“The samples have been contaminated!” Norman errantly faces off with Sarah. She seems more than comfortable in their bickering, as if it was a common place between her assistants. In addition, Sarah still seems preoccupied with her own findings and is unable to focus on Norman. “They have to be contaminated, Doctor. There is just no way of explaining this level of genetic alteration. Frankly speaking, there’s no way it can exist.”
Russell relaxes against the table across the two police officers. He then shoves his hands into his pockets with a satisfied contentious smirk. “Well, someone’s obviously figured it out, haven’t they?”
“No, you screwed up again. ADMIT IT!”
“If you would shut your piehole for a second and listen, I’m telling you my results are conclusive.”
“FINE—pull up the gene map and show us conclusive. But I’m telling you, it’s impossible.” Norman leans into table, leering over Russell’s laptop.
The crystallographic screen pops up a second later, showing the genome mapping of a DNA strand. Russell then pulls up a side-by-side map of a normal human DNA sequence to compare it to the hybrid, super-ego strand.
“Take a look at the SNPs, Doc. Compared to the human strand, they’re relatively similar on just about every level… that is until you catch that little guy… right… there—” Russell freezes the image as it revolves on the screen. Shortly afterward, he clicks a couple of keys on the keyboard, enlarging the picture.
Jack leans over Sarah’s shoulder to get a look at what they were referring to and catches a whiff of the light oriental-scented perfume rising off the back of Sarah’s neck; the melodious fragrance of spicy amber, vanilla, and wood tickles his nose. He tries ignoring the sweet scent but soon finds himself staring at her long slender neck instead of the computer screen. Dutch clears his throat after noticing Jack’s obvious distraction, and Jack grimaces at the Sheriff’s absurd accusation shrugging.
“SNPs,” Jack clears his throat, diverting his attention away from Sarah’s wonderful-smelling neck and the sheriff’s watchful eye and crooked eyebrow.
“Single nucleotide polymorphism,” Russell says and then explains more elaborately. “Basically, SNPs are the single most important piece of inherited characteristics. It’s easier to think of them as a map your parents made to create you, although this one has been clearly altered from its original blueprint.”
“And you’ve rerun the test, compared results?” Sarah snaps out of her train of thought, zeroing in on the computer screen.
“I’ve personally run each sample twice,” Russell concedes, giving Norman the stink eye. He then diverts his attention back to Sarah. “These creatures could provide us with the research needed to take a dramatic leap forward in the area of advanced genetics. Think of the applications. Synthetic DNA—we could cure the most life-threatening diseases as if they were nothing. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
“Bloody brilliant… yes,” Sarah admits, lifting her eyeglasses to her forehead as she carefully examines the chromosome. “Altogether terrifying? Absolutely.”
Eventually, after Jack deciphers the nerd code, he has a moment of clarity and catches on to what the scientists were implying. “Wait a minute… Are you two suggesting that these things were once human?”
“It would appear so.” Sarah peels away from the screen. Now looking back at Jack, she immediately notices the proximity in which he is standing next to her. “Although… I can’t begin to imagine how it is possible. Genetic splicing to this degree doesn’t exist yet. We are only starting to work with the theory of synthesized genetics.”
“Well, that doesn’t necessarily rule out my alien theory now, does it?” Sheriff Byrd adds with an unsettling grin. “Now you mind telling me just how those things got loose in my county?”
“I have no idea, Sheriff. If I were you, I would just be glad they’re dead.” Sarah erects her posture, bringing her attention around to Dutch. She then shifts her eyes between the sheriff and Jack. “During the autopsy, I discovered significant evidence suggesting our creatures are absolutely carnivorous by nature, and they employ hundreds of thin sharp teeth to rip through flesh. However, they do not support the required teeth for chewing. I’ve theorized that they are capable of swallowing large chunks of meat as a whole. To prove my theory, I opened its stomach. Inside, I found a highly caustic digestive fluid, much more corrosive than the normal hydrochloric acids found in human counterparts. These particular acidic enzymes are capable of dissolving mass quantities of meat almost instantaneously, and again, and it’s just a theory, but by the horrible stink they emit, I believe the waste is then broken down into gases and purged from the system, more than likely through the pores of its skin.”
“You’re implying they don’t defecate, Doctor?” Norman interjects.
“Precisely—every organ, short of its stomach, was shriveled—inoperative.”
“I take it they don’t breathe then either?” Russell looks vexed. “And how is that possible?”
“It isn’t,” Norman answers. “It’s inconceivable.”
“How… h-how can they function without breathing?” Russell says with agitation.
“I’m not sure. I don’t think they were alive to begin with, at least not in any natural context.” Sarah’s outlook implies the creatures might have been supernatural in nature, contrary to the very foundation of her scientific values. “That’s not the entirety of my findings either. The specimen’s brain appeared mutated, emphasizing overdevelopment and extreme activity in very specific regions. The area of the brain supporting memory and behavior were significantly reduced in size, as if no longer required to function, yet the area that controls hunger and sleep cycles, namely the hypothalamus region was enlarged significantly.”
“So what are we talking about here?” Jack asks Sarah to clarify that what he was imagining came right out of a B-rate horror movie. “Are you suggesting we have super-mutant-flesh-eating zombies running around the countryside?”
“Barbarically put but yes. However, try to think of them as having the same basic instincts as a shark, although certainly more intelligent. They hunt, they eat, and they sleep. Anything that is not directly involved with these three functions has been completely disregarded.” Sarah pauses. “They are perfect killing machines, pure and simplistic.”
“So maybe this is just a little out of our area of expertise, Doc?” Russell adds with stringent expression and a hard lump in his throat.
* * *
After finishing the sterilization of the surgical instruments, April replaces each tool specifically two inches apart on a white terrycloth towel next to the second subject. Her hands shake nervously; she doesn’t like being alone or so close to the creatures. April finds herself taking short quick glances at them, familiarizing herself with their ghoulish features, which only serves to unravel her further.
The damage to the second subject’s face along the right jaw is existential, brutally exposing most of its sharp teeth through a profound deadlocked snarl. Past that, she sees what appears to be a bluish organ that might have been its tongue but strongly resembled the tentacle of an octopus because of all the tiny suction cups. She will inform Dr. Cavanaugh about the organ when she returns.
Its eyes are far back—deep inside blackened sockets, pale yellow and eternally locked on her behind a menacing thought and protruding brow, which constantly pierced April’s soul. Although it was long dead, as most of its flesh burned away during the massive explosion, it still possessed such evil countenance, making it impossible for April to find her tenacity.
Hastily finishing her set up for Dr. Cavanaugh’s next autopsy, she neglects to address her work a second or third time as she had always done so methodically in the past. April disposes of her latex gloves, moving hurriedly toward the partition with a clear conscience.
Just as she is about to pull back the partition and safely join her colleagues in the front half of the tent, a slight movement on the examination table, just off to her left, caught solely in her peripheral, has suddenly halted her. Struck with a paralyzing fear that easily glues her feet in place, April closes her eyes tight as the consuming stress of her rapidly pounding heart overwhelms any good sense she might have had. She repeatedly whispers to herself through trembling lips, trying to disbelieve the image in her mind. She is so scared she thought she might pee herself. Instead, April turns her head slowly toward the disruptive movement and opens her eyes.