Hybrid Experiment - Chapter 1

       I sat in my dog crate, staring up at the “scientists” in white lab coats in front of me, and praying they wouldn’t come near. Not again. I was just tested yesterday. They couldn’t really expect me to be ready so quick, could they? No, no, that was impossible...wasn’t it? I glanced over to my right, nervous, and away from them.
       Beside me, in another dog crate, sat another resident mutant experiment, an overgrown lizard. Or was he just a human that looked like a lizard? I couldn’t really remember which he was, anymore. The thought depressed me, really.
       That after so many painful tests for years and years, pushing me to my very limit and beyond the point of exhaustion time and time again, the people, the intelligent creatures beside me weren’t people anymore. They weren’t even animals. They were some sick combination of the two. They were mutants. Experiments. Numbers. Tested in the cruelest of ways to see if they’d be deemed a “success” or a “failure.”
       No one wanted to be in that category, a “failure.” Because it meant you either couldn’t take the painful testing, and died, or that you would be very soon. In some ways the ones that were lost during testing were lucky. They didn’t have to worry about the pain anymore. But the ones that didn’t, and the ones that were “broken” or “dysfunctional” however...They had a far worse fate.
       They’d either continue the testing, on and on, for...who knows how long, like me, or break down - literally or figuratively - only to be fed to the wolves. Or rather, the wolf-hybrids, that were half-man and half-wolf. I think the scientists in white lab coats
- who I simply called lab coats - called them Erasers. They looked human sometimes - but when it was time to get rid of the “failures” they came and transformed into wolf men, literally ripping them apart. Sometimes they even made a “sport” out of it, where they’d pretend to release the experiment outside, only to let loose a few seconds later and rip the poor creature to shreds. The first one who caught up and bit or ripped into it was the winner, followed by a lesser win of being the one who killed it. Bonus points if the first one to reach it killed it as well.
       I only knew this because sometimes they made it a point to come in and brag about their most recent kill to the hybrids stuck inside cages. They were only allowed to roam “free” in the building because the lab coats decided to make them their enforcers and executioners, when and where they couldn’t handle it. If not for the obvious reasons of strength, speed, and not to mention razor sharp claws and teeth, then it was because they seemed to be the only creations they could successfully make more than once. Like I said, most of their “experiments” ended up dying from physical and/or mental stress.
       Somehow, I had managed to survive the ten years I’ve been in here. I was kidnapped and taken here when I was five, so I remembered and knew what the outside world was like. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, even after all this time.
       My mind came back into focus on the present as realized I was staring at the lizard experiment beside me. Perhaps I should have felt embarrassed, but after living for so long in here, everyone gets used to the blank stares of others, whether it’s because they’ve drifted off in thought again, like me, or because the simply didn’t or couldn’t think anymore. Some of them couldn’t even speak, let alone form words. It was sad when I thought about it, but it only upset me more when I realized that a majority of the time I wasn’t even thinking about the welfare or state of the others. All I could do was focus on myself, and wonder and fear when the next test or sudden bout of pain as “punishment” would be. Moments like this, when I realized and remembered that there were others just like me, going through the same pain and struggle I went through, were rare.
       I suppose maybe I would have remembered to care more if I had someone else to talk to, but there were none, as far as I knew. Most could only make out a select few, fragmented words and gestures at best, but none really understood language. What would we even talk about, anyway? If the treadmill shocks each time you slowed down an inch hurt more today, or yesterday? Yeah, that was sure a conversation starter.
       My eyes focused on the lizard mutant beside me again. I kept looking at him because he was different - and not for the obvious reasons. He was different because he’d been here about as long as I had. He looked about my age, too, I guessed. Most didn’t even make it to ten years old, let alone make it to the teenage years. A part of me suspected that perhaps the only reason I’d been able to live so long was because I knew and understood language - the English language, anyway - and could understand some, if not most, of what the scientists were saying underneath all that scientific jargon. I could improve and listen whereas others couldn’t beyond basic commands, gestures, and picking up on tone of voice. I understood more. I was smarter than they in some ways, able to pick out some of their nitpicks in my testing performance and do my best to avoid them the next round. Perhaps if they taught their experiments, they would live. And not so many regular, human people would have to be turned into what they were now. And they could have normal lives then.
       My residing neighbor appeared to be just as old as I was, if not older, and had survived for at least ten years. I wondered if he had the same supposed advantage I did. I wanted to ask, I wanted to find out. To see if he was a creature beyond thought and instinct and prove my theory, or that if he wasn’t, then that at least any of the others had just that more of a chance to survive. But survive for what? I wondered. More pain? More tests? For weeks, months, if not years more before they couldn’t take it? What was the point of living?
       As I thought this - not for the first time - my attention turned back onto the lab coats that were still in the room. They kept looking over in the direction of my cage, and I felt my breath hitch, and my heart start pounding. I looked away, away from them, silently hoping that they would take another. Just not me. Please not me. Not again. Not today.
       To my slight dismay I realized I was looking at the lizard again, feeling a sense of shame even though he couldn’t hear my thoughts or how I’d been pondering about him for maybe the past ten minutes. I was about to turn my eyes away, when I noticed he was looking at me, too. I didn’t know for how long though.
       I would have suspected that maybe he somehow did read thoughts - but the lab coats were in here and kept looking directly at me now. It was certain. And I would have maybe thought that he really could speak and that he was listening to the scientists, but then again, everyone always listened to the scientists. And some of the few choice words that all of the experiments including myself picked up on were their own subject numbers. If they hadn’t tried to memorize the surrounding mutants’ numbers, then they would at least have known enough to learn their own by now. Because it meant the world when your number wasn’t called, and somebody else’s was. I personally couldn’t blame them for it.
       So as sweat started running down my face and I inwardly panicked, I soon found myself gazing into my neighbor, the lizard’s eyes. They were a piercing yellow, and for some reason I couldn’t really recall having seen them before. I would have sworn that I’d recognize such a look and color before...
       Before I knew it, I was lost in that look, in that gaze. Time didn’t seem to pass, or much at all matter anymore, as I was soon filled by a wave of calmness, and my fear and worry faded away into nothingness. It was the best I’d felt in a long time, and a feeling that I hadn’t felt in years, if at all. All I knew was that it was wonderful.
       Suddenly a bang on my cage interrupted it, snapping me out of it. My head jerked up, only to find that yes; the lab coats were coming for me this time, and not someone else. Bile rose in my throat that I had to force back down, all of my worrisome thoughts and aching fear coming back in an instant. My cage was opened, obviously intending for me to get out and proceed to whatever today’s torture would be. But I couldn’t move, not this time. I only sat there, shaking, as I looked up at the lab coat, pleading with him silently to let me alone, to not have to do this today after all I’d done yesterday. My body still ached all over and I had a few more bruises than usual.
       After a few silent seconds, he banged on the cage, making me flinch. “Come on out, Subject 15,” he growled down at me.
       Finally, slowly and awkwardly, I made my way out of my cage, shakily standing up, and partially surprised. He hadn’t yanked me out or had me beaten afterwards this time, which was far kinder than usual. He hadn’t even threatened me with that beating today! I realized in shock, eyes widening. It made me wonder what was wrong with him. Was he new? No, I’d seen him before...But what was wrong with him? That wasn’t how things were done!
       And testing was always one of, if not the worst part, I reminded myself, swallowing nervously as my shaking returned, only to cause my bruised body to hurt even more. I followed him down the hall, to whatever new - or perhaps familiar - torture lie in wait for me this time, going as slow as I possibly could and playing up my limp slightly, but not too much, though. If they ever thought I was one of the “failures,” I was done for.
       I sped up slightly, and walked as straight and without as much of a limp as I could now. And by now, I had forgotten all about that blissful - if not strange - feeling of complete calm I’d felt not a few minutes prior.