The Things We Bury - Part 1: In Anticipation of the End of the World [Completed]

Chapter 5: The Monster That You Are (Part 2 of 7)

The buzzer cut in over the Zen music, shattering the carefully crafted zone of tranquility. 

The clock on the computer's menu bar read: "10:24."  R.J. had been steadily working for over six hours.  Unable to sleep, he had come in during the middle of the night.  His take-out cup of coffee stood cold and forgotten on the desk.

A spike of anger had replaced the need for caffeine.  When he first arrived, he'd taken a quick look in the OC, only to find both the girl and Tray fast asleep.  Fury sizzled through his bloodstream at the thought of the young man's careless attitude.  He had no respect for the job they were doing – no understanding of the Subject's value.  And the lazy bastard had only made it worse by sputtering out one excuse after another while begging him not to mention it to Wiley.

"You asked for this shift.  If I catch you slacking again, I'll make sure you're joined at the hip with Dr. Gracie for an entire week."  R.J. wasn't used to raising his voice, but in that instant, he was consumed by all the frustration and impotent rage that had been nibbling around his edges for days. 

He wasn't just upset with Tray Cullen.  Part of the hostility was directed at WiIey.  Maxwell had been AWOL for three days.  Three days of snafus, minor emergencies, and one major discovery.  The whole time Maxwell hadn't returned a single message.

So instead of downing the coffee to shake off the fatigue, R.J. worked to calm himself as he settled into his office.  He put on meditation music and spent an hour watching the video of LARS.  The first few, electric moments of the transformation and the frantic exploration of the enclosure erupted across all three of the monitors, which sat on his desk like a shield against life's barrage of misfortunes.

After a while, two of the monitors got replaced with work, but the surveillance footage continued to play on the third.  And the hours lapsed with no discernible passage of time.  Until the door buzzer shook him out of his deep concentration.

R.J. toggled from a spreadsheet to the camera in the hall.

A face stared into the lens looking impatient.

Wiley.  About time he showed up.

Simultaneously, R.J. hit the lock release button on the desk and minimized the LARS video.

Maxwell pushed through the door.  The words on his lips were almost a growl.  "What the hell is so important?" 

R.J.'s burgeoning mood turned into a stone and fell, dropping until it sunk back beneath the surface of a deep well.  "So you do still work here," he said matching Wiley's tone.

"Don't you start."  Maxwell stiffly walked to a chair and threw himself into it, barely concealing a wince.

"Are you hurt?"  R.J didn't want to feel sympathy for him.  He even wondered if the agent wasn't putting on an act to throw him off balance.  But he had never seen Wiley look less put together.  His skin had the unhealthy tone of cigarette ash.

"Just a sore back."

It wasn't just a sore back.  Just another lie from the man.  "Is that why you decided to abandoned us?"

"You would do well to remember that I don't report to you."  Rarely was Maxwell Wiley so direct.  R.J. began to wonder if there was something seriously wrong.  "Just tell me what the hell Haddad's report means."

So he had taken a look at the report after all.  It was mostly page upon page of graphs and data dumps – charts outlining the partially mapped DNA of the Subject in both her states, with comparisons from several control subjects.  All of it led to one Earth-shattering conclusion.