Way Out of Control Read Free Page B

opaque reflections on the windows that lined one side of the hallway confirmed how frighteningly close he was to catching her.
    Celise eyed the elevator she’d just rode up in. Mental calculations of his pace told her there was no way she was going to make it inside the elevator and close the doors before he caught her, so she kept going past it and flung open the door to the stairwell. Had four minutes gone by already? The building used to be a mental institution and if it was already on lockdown, all the exits and windows on the first floor would be barred and bolted. But she had to try.
    She bounded down the steps, practically flying out of her shoes so that she could increase her speed and friction down the three flights of stairs. But it was all in vain—the beast-man simply flung himself over the railing and came down on the floor of the landing right next to her, the thunder and wind of his leap and weight knocking her into the wall. Before she could contemplate what to do, he rushed her and trapped her between his massive body and the wall.
    Again, Celise screamed only in her head. Her throat clenched and unclenched and she scraped her back against the wall in a panic, as if with enough friction she could meld her molecules with the wall and pass through it and escape. But moments went by and all the big thing did was hyperventilate and stare at her, pressed uncomfortably close to her but not touching her. And did it look—familiar? Confusion began to saturate her terror.
    “What do you want? Please don’t hurt me.”
    Not until he spoke did she recognize him. “Trust me, doc, I’m trying my best not to.”
    Shock shook her as she glanced at the long, thick, curly brown hair that now brushed against his bare shoulders. How had she not noticed those curls before? “Officer Wentworth? Is that you?”
    “Please, Celise. Help me.”
    “My god.”
    “God didn’t do this,” he said. His eyelids fluttered and his black, oval pupils rolled up until there was nothing to see but the yellow of his corneas.
    Celise moved out of the way as the transformed and expanded Jaxon slumped to the floor face down, revealing the sedative needles stuck in the center of his back.

Chapter Two
     
     
    The three doctors stood outside of the padded room in the psych ward that securely held Jaxon inside. It had taken all three doctors to move the three-hundred pounds of unconscious muscle into it. They hadn’t even gotten a chance to strap him down and examine him because as soon as they’d got him into the cell he woke up—angry, wild and violent, forcing the three of them to retreat before they could even check his blood pressure. Celise stood with her arms folded, both hands tucked under as she half-listened to Dr. Victor Morhamer and Dr. Sri Ashni argue.
    Victor shook his head. “It just isn’t possible. None of the control groups had a reaction like this.”
    “They did not; however, this subject did. Did you find any sign of potential contaminants that could have caused the deviation?”
    “You mean something that accidentally mutated our intentional mutagen? Nothing that would cause such a rapid reaction and the abnormal hostility he’s displaying. Plus, did you see his eyes?”
    Sri gave a quick nod of his head. “There was a slight probability the eyes would alter as well, yes, but the rate and extent of the transformation was not expected. Perhaps it is possible that the conversion rate you used was incorrect?”
    “Not likely,” Victor scoffed. “I did the calculations. My math is never off. Maybe you measured wrong.”
    “No no, that is highly unlikely. There has to be something we missed.”
    “Most likely something you missed.”
    With a dismissive wave of his hand, Sri clicked his tongue. “Son, I’m almost twice your age and experience. I have been at this before your parents even conceived you. I have neither the need nor desire to argue. I’m an old man, Morhamer. You may have time to recover if