Chapter 4
“Trouble In Paradise”
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Bryanne wasn’t having a good day.
Of course, it was hard to remember a time when she didn’t feel that way, but dwelling on the past was pointless — the present day had plenty of suck to go around.
Today’s batch of crap included a flat tire, a stale croissant, and yet another increase in her workload thanks to more no-shows. The unspoken consensus around the lab was that two of the baby interns — including the cute redhead — got up-close-and-way-too-personal with a Five-Up specimen. A shame, thought Bryanne — she was really starting to like little... um... What’s-Her-Face.
But there was another missing name that made a far bigger impact on the Institute: no one had seen Eden Corley in nearly two weeks. Bryanne stopped caring about disappearing staffers a long time ago — but that one had been a surprise. There were wild rumors, of course. Maybe Invincible Eden finally took a long nap somewhere that’s green. Or maybe she just decided not to come to work anymore. There was no way to know.
It didn’t really matter why. Without Eden, Sunny Red, or the other one, the remaining workers had to pick up the slack.
And that left Bryanne spitefully wishing someone was having a much worse day than she.
***
In the hot, black depths of Summer’s mind, an infinitesimal speck of thought flickered into life. It wasn’t a complicated thought, nor was it especially original. More or less, her brain was saying: Ugh.
Summer’s eyelids clamped shut. She couldn’t tell if there was light or not, but she wasn’t taking any chances just yet — not while her head throbbed so ominously.
As more bits of Summer’s brain finished their coffee-break and trundled back to work, she realized that she was trying to move her arm. She could sense muscles tensing weakly, but some component or other was still lagging behind.
There was pressure. All around her, something thick and unyielding held Summer tight. It was comforting, like a snug sleeping-bag after a rough day on the mountain. Everything in Summer’s world was soft and cozy and warm.
Very warm. Too warm.
Hot. Jungle! Plant!
A blast of adrenaline slammed into Summer like ice-water on a hangover. Running on pure, electric nerves, she thrashed and flailed at her captor. Let her aching muscles cry under the strain — let her body protest — she had to get free....
Summer fell to the floor with a thud. An especially violent kick had finally dislodged the heavy blanket and launched her over the edge of the leather sofa. Panting and drenched in fever-sweat, Summer whirled about as her head scrambled to do some basic math. After tallying zero in quantity of toxic rainforests, possessed co-workers and man-eating flowers, the primal terror in her blood started to leach away.
Of course, it didn’t help her frazzled nerves when an unexpected voice said, “It’s ‘Whelan’, isn’t it?”
The woman behind the desk barely batted an eye when Summer tried to spring to her feet, slipped, and crashed back to the floor.
“Might want to give it a minute,” said the woman indifferently, returning to her paperwork.
When the ringing in Summer’s ears subsided, the rest of the room finally came into focus.
It was clearly an office — one more suited to an ace lawyer than a corporate bigwig. Every surface in sight was either polished wood, well-aged leather, ornate carpet, or a window. An expensive-looking mahogany desk sat imperiously in the center of the room. An entire wall was lined with matching leather-bound books. There was even an old-fashioned globe.
The woman scribbling away at the desk was blonde, middle-aged, and austerely dressed. There was a vibe about her, different than that of the other senior Institute staff Summer had met. While everyone else was cynical and jaded and clearly over-worked, this woman was all about the focus. She had the laser-like intentness of a career-administrator, and Summer couldn’t help feeling like she’d been sent to the principal’s office. It was like every clichéd nightmare in the book — from a man-eating monster to getting in trouble at school to—
Shit! thought Summer suddenly. I’m naked!
She scrambled to gather up as much blanket as possible, nearly falling over again in the process.
“When you’re finished, then, Miss Whelan,” said the woman without looking up.
Clutching the thick fabric around her, Summer timidly eased back onto the sofa.
“Where...?” she said weakly.
“In my office,” said the woman. “I don’t often entertain visitors — you might consider yourself lucky. But then again, in the circumstances, perhaps not.”
With an efficient lack of flourish, the woman clipped her paperwork together, folded her hands neatly atop the sheaf, and regarded Summer with no expression whatsoever.
“My name is Dr. Rosen,” she said. “I am Acting Director of this facility. And before we take any further action, I think it’s best we have a conversation.”
“A-action? I don’t understand....”
“I’m sure you can appreciate that we take safety procedures very seriously here. The rules are there for a reason, Miss Whelan — it’s absolutely critical that they be followed at all times. And I’m quite sure that no part of the handbook recommends for employees to... shall we say, fraternize on site.”
Summer’s brain was almost up to normal running speed, but what it was hearing still didn’t make much sense.
“But the... plant...” she protested.
“We realize that there were likely extenuating factors,” said Dr. Rosen. “So in this very specific instance, you won’t be penalized. In the future, you will follow contamination guidelines to the letter. Am I clear?”
“I... um... yes.”
“Good. And as for your colleague, Miss—” Dr. Rosen glanced at her papers. “—Griffin, she would ordinarily receive an infraction for improper use of her equipment. A moot point now, but perhaps it’ll be a useful reminder for you.”
Moot... what? Summer thought. Reminder... but... eaten!
“Where is Sara?” she asked.
“Still in Greenhouse Eight, I expect.”
“But... but she was rescued... right? She’ll be okay, right?”
“Regrettably, no. She’ll never leave the habitat again.”
A lot of things still made no sense to Summer, but there was one fact of which she was sure — one fact that she had to cleave to.
“But she’s alive!” Summer insisted. “She’s still alive — we have to save her! You have to do something!”
“And what would you suggest?” said the director.
“I — I don’t know — can’t we just... pull her back out?”
“Not an option. Policy is very clear — we can’t risk damaging the plants, under any circumstances.”
“But that’s insane!” Summer said. “Someone’s life is in danger! How is a stupid flower worth more than a human life?”
Dr. Rosen’s poker face never even twitched.
“Do you know what we do here?” the director asked calmly.
At a loss for a better response, Summer clung to her outrage. “You’re mad scientists — you make monsters. You’re playing God for no reason at all.”
“No, Miss Whelan, that’s not it. Everything here has a purpose. Seeds from the Windflower you encountered, for example, can be refined into the most reliable and side-effect-free sedative in the world. Aleya Lilies possess compounds that stop bleeding, Nyx’s Cloak produces a completely non-addictive painkiller, Noosevine sap contains a potent bactericide, and Springroot enzymes may be the cure for cancer. Every species we grow — every gene we adjust — every molecule we forge is designed with the sole intent of saving lives and improving humankind.
“And granted, there are adverse incidents now and then. This is dangerous work — which is why the rules are so very critical — but is the outcome not worth it? For every unfortunate episode at this institution, how many thousands of lives are saved? How many millions will we save in the future?
“That’s what we do here, Miss Whelan — not ‘mad science’ but saving lives.”
Summer didn’t know what to say. Sure, it all sounded noble enough, but what about the cost? How did Sara feel about the Institute’s fancy forged molecules? Without the influence of the Windflower’s mind-scrambling perfume, there was nothing to distract Summer from the image of her friend slipping deeper down the throat of the monstrous plant. She could still see every detail sharply outlined in the elastic stalk. She could still hear every muffled moan....
“No,” said Summer, fighting back tears. “No, it can’t be worth it. No one has to die for you.”
“Oh, I agree — ideally, no one would die at all. Lab protocol was written specifically to avoid fatal mishaps.”
“But Sara was alive when that thing... when she was taken! She could have been rescued! How could you just let it keep her?”
“As I said before — we will not harm the plants. With one life weighed against millions... well, it’s easy arithmetic.”
“It’s not!” Summer fumed. “What about her family? Why don’t you ask if they’re willing to serve their daughter up as plant food!”
“Her family will be notified of the truth — that she sustained fatal injuries from an on-site accident. Security protocol will prevent the Institute from releasing further details, but a substantial settlement will be provided to help ease their suffering.”
“And keep them quiet,” scoffed Summer. “And what about me? What’s to stop me from going to the police? Or the media? What’s to stop me from telling everyone I know what you’re hiding? How are you going to shut me up?”
A soft but audible sigh escaped from the stoic Dr. Rosen.
“And this is why we need to have this conversation,” she said solemnly. “I will concede that this event has been traumatic for you, and that it’ll be a challenge to process any feelings you might have. But if you’re unable to support the Corley Institute for the sake of millions of the dying and afflicted, then I advise you to remember two basic facts. One — you signed a legally-binding non-disclosure agreement before setting one foot past the lobby. And two — if you tell everyone and anyone that a giant flower ate your colleague, they simply won’t believe you. By making this public, you would face litigation, ostracism, and possibly committal. The harsh truth is that you have no recourse.”
Summer couldn’t remember ever feeling more helpless in her life. She’d seen something so horrific — she’d seen someone die — and she couldn’t do a thing about it because of a bunch of legalese bullshit. She slumped back into the sofa, utterly defeated.
“What happens to me?” she mumbled.
The director produced two official-looking forms. “We’re prepared to offer you two options. You may choose to terminate your employment and walk out the door today with a healthy severance package — quite generous for an internship, I assure you. Or you may choose to take a few days’ leave and return to work on Monday. Frankly, we would prefer the latter. Staffing is always such an issue here.”
Summer’s jaw nearly fell off. “You — you want me to go back in there?”
“Ideally, yes. But of course the choice is yours.”
With her empty iceberg stare, Dr. Rosen slid both forms across the desk and placed a pen neatly between them.
“What will it be, Miss Whelan?”
***
Nina Tam lived her life by three unbreakable rules: work hard, be courteous, and never complain. She didn’t complain when her car window was smashed in on the first day of her freshman year, nor did she complain when her apartment manager decided he was selling the whole building to a developer — effectively evicting her with barely a week’s notice.
And so there was no question what her reaction would be when two of her co-workers just didn’t show up for their shifts. Sure, Sara was always a little iffy, but Summer had been one-hundred-percent reliable until now.
Of course, Nina wasn’t judging. Even if she wanted to, she was far too busy. Her supervisor, Simon, had posted a revised greenhouse duty roster that very day (after much grumbling) that divvied up the extra workload among the remaining interns.
As soon as her daily lab work was finished, Nina changed into her garden gear — jean shorts, sneakers, and an old t-shirt — and scurried off towards the habitats.
It took the better part of an hour to re-pot the Acheron orchids. It wasn’t particularly challenging, but Nina tried to handle them as little as possible — she didn’t much like the way they moved. From there, it was off to Greenhouse Two to spray down the Jupiter Tomato, and then to Greenhouse Five to collect and tag samples of Dog-Ear Lichen for the lab. With all the jogging, planting, misting, and clipping, she didn’t have time for a single thought until the tail-end of the afternoon.
But then, more likely by luck than by design, the duty roster had saved the best task for last. While trimming grass wasn’t in itself terribly stimulating, it still brought Nina to her favorite spot in the whole facility.
As she trundled her cart through the doors of Greenhouse Six, Nina was greeted by the crisp burble of water over stone. The air was bright with the sweet scent of lotus flowers and water lilies. Artificial sunlight danced cheerfully through the wafting branches of a single massive willow tree. Any scraps of light that made it past the sea of shimmering leaves settled gently onto the mirror surfaces of several large reed-lined ponds. This was Nina’s oasis — this water garden that smelled of spring and glittered in perpetual noonlight.
This place alone nearly made up for all the things that Nina never complained about. The soothing trickle of stone waterfalls and the light rustle of a thousand leaves provided a perfect clarity of mind. If Nina had a garden like this at home, studying would never be stressful again.
But paradise wasn’t without its dark side. On a previous visit, Nina was tasked with planting lotus seedlings. Pressing each individual sprout into the muddy pond floor was tedious and time-consuming — especially since she had to do it with a long wooden pole from the shore. If Nina had any doubts about using such an awkward and inefficient method, they evaporated the first time the tool was yanked forcibly out of her grip and into the murky depths. She refused to envisage either the entity that had disarmed her or what might have happened if she’d strayed from the handbook’s guidelines: stay out of the water, and use only biodegradable equipment.
Thankfully, there was no need to stretch her imagination today. Her chore was merely to prune back some of the overgrown clumps of rushes — a task that could easily be accomplished from the cheery tranquility of dry land.
Nina had just begun some productive musing on her current housing dilemma when an unexpected flash of color broke her concentration. She was quite certain she’d seen a shock of red deep within the mass of grass. Gingerly, she eased aside a clump of rushes with her shears...
... and froze.
Buried behind all the green was an altogether alien-looking plant. The main stalk was white as a bleached bone, and each pale leaf was ringed with more spines than a porcupine. Perched at the tallest point of the stalk was an irascible ball of thorns topped by a vivid blood-red firework of a flower.
Nina had seen it before — if not in other habitats, then certainly in the handbook, where it was often accompanied by cautionary boldface letters. Carduus mantichora — the Manticore Thistle. There was nothing about this plant that didn’t imply a swift and indiscriminate death. And while there were many dangerous specimens living within the Corley Institute, none were as wildly unpredictable as this ominous red flower. Indeed, the lab had tried to exterminate the entire crop, but like any resilient weed, it always managed to claw its way back.
As gently as possible, Nina lowered the rushes back into place. A T-shirt, shorts, and a light pair of gloves were poor defense for this situation. If she could just get back to her cart without provoking the thistle, she could grab the proper safety gear, extract the weed, and go back to worrying about grades and rent like a normal person.
A cluster of rush stems slipped from her shears and the Manticore Thistle twitched. There was a sudden burning in Nina’s upper arm. A slender red needle now clung to her bare skin like a bee’s sting. Nina shrieked as her pent-up anxiety erupted. In panic and in pain, she dropped her shears.
The stand of rushes snapped back against the thistle, which then quivered angrily. With an airy popping sound, the Manticore Thistle sprayed several more crimson spines at its would-be gardener. Its aim was terrible, but the shotgun volley still managed to hit the mark. Nina staggered back, clutching at darts in her neck, left arm, and left leg. The blistering fire raced underneath her skin. She screamed.
And suddenly, the pain was gone. The pain was gone, and it didn’t leave empty-handed. Nina toppled heavily to the ground as her strength failed. The poison continued to spread, leaving muscles limp and lifeless in its wake. Every inch of her body refused to take orders — it was a miracle she could even breathe.
Nina lay on her side, panting in the dirt, straining to shift so much as a finger. A detached part of her brain hovered in the background, grasping at all sorts of intellectual straws.
Essential organs still working, she noted silently. Muscle paralysis by saxitoxin. Dose not sufficient to disable respiration. Reversible. Counteract with 4-Aminopyridine... from the cart all the way over there. Still breathing — wait for rescue?
With a lifetime of practice, Nina seized her terror by the horns and wrestled it to the ground. She couldn’t actively control her breathing, but keeping a lid on her panic would at least prevent hyperventilation. And things weren’t so bad, considering — the Manticore Thistle hadn’t killed her outright, and she seemed to be in stable condition. The toxin could even be treated with emergency medication. Nina had a sliver of hope yet.
And then she realized something that chased her rosy outlook clean away: her feet were wet.
When she fell, she had somehow rolled too close to the nearest pond. Her legs now dangled over the brim, submerging her shin-deep in the dark water.
The frenzied pounding in Nina’s chest resumed. This was a bad place to be. Stay out of the water, read the handbook. Stay out of the water, warned the memory of a planter pole sliding out of sight into the blackness. Stay out of the water, agreed the invisible force that now bumped against her sneakers.
There was something purposeful lurking beneath the surface. It nudged her shoes with curious, questing intent. Again, Nina ordered her body to respond, but every fiber of her willpower was still insufficient to break the paralysis. Lying as she was — on one side and curved like a croissant — she could still watch impotently as her limbs swayed under a power not her own.
It’ll be okay, she thought desperately. I can’t move. If I don’t move, it’ll ignore me. Everything’ll be okay....
The jostling stopped. Once again, Nina’s legs hung limply in the water.
Please let it be over....
But then there was a new sensation. There was pressure — soft and yielding, but pressure nonetheless. It crept past the collar of her sneakers and over her bare ankles. As the aquatic entity slid higher up her shins, Nina was horrified to find that the Manticore Thistle’s toxin didn’t dull her sense of touch. And so she sprawled immobile on the dirt floor, staring helplessly as gently-pulsing waves inched across her skin toward the pond surface.
Finally, she saw it — a shapeless transparent mass oozing from the depths. For a wild moment, it seemed that the water itself had come alive. But as more of the thing emerged from the pond, its biological nature became more apparent.
It was a deep and mottled midnight green. Its surface was glossy and translucent like a gummy worm, with fibrous vein-like strands crisscrossing beneath. The total effect was something like a vegetable earthworm.
After the initial shock of the organism’s bizarre appearance began to fade, Nina’s blood curdled at the sight of what it was doing. It seemed to be folding in on itself — rolling inwards like a tube sock turning inside out. But for every inch of itself that was swallowed, an inch of Nina followed. It wasn’t just climbing up her legs — it was climbing around them. In a horrid flash of clarity, Nina realized that she was being eaten alive.
She renewed her efforts to flee — she’d settle for rolling away. But even as her breath grew ragged with terror, her body remained still as a rag doll. The creature swallowed on, engulfing Nina to her thighs. Though her ears heard nothing but rustling willow leaves and the sticky squishing sound of the thing itself, her mind echoed with scream after scream.
It’s eating me! Oh God — someone — please!
But still she could only watch as the thing slid over her shorts, enveloping her hips. She could even see her legs through the translucent green flesh, and the sight didn’t improve her mood.
No! I can’t — no! Please, someone — don’t let it—!
The thing’s lips rippled around her waist. Pond-water dripping from the slick hide seeped through her t-shirt, plastering the fabric to her skin. If her muscles worked, she would have shivered — the water was not warm.
As the creature devoured more of Nina’s unresisting body, she found it harder and harder to breathe. The elastic flesh wrapping around her chest only stretched far enough to draw her in — her lung capacity wasn’t even a passing consideration.
The voracious mass slid over Nina’s shoulders, forcing her arms above her head. She could smell it now — it had a sour woody odor like a raw leek.
Help... please....
With most of her body encased in its cold green throat, the thing seemed to change tactics. Instead of spreading upwards to engulf its prey, it began to draw her in. It was no longer rising up around her — she was sinking down into it.
The sound of slime filled her ears. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to do something. Now — quick — before this nightmare dragged her down into the darkness forever.
But still she could do nothing.
As her outstretched hands finally slipped past the rolling rim, Nina could swear she saw a bright speck of red watching her through the creature’s clear skin. And as the terrible thing retreated to the shadows of its underwater home, Nina had one final view of sunlight flickering through the willow leaves before the pond closed over her head.
***
“Yes, Justin?”
“Sorry to bother you, Dr. Rosen,” buzzed the intercom. “She’s here to see you.”
There were no visible changes to Meredith Rosen’s expression, and only the slightest chill in her tone hinted at any displeasure.
“Well, I suppose we ought to let her—”
Her office door slammed open.
“—in.”
For the first time in recorded history, Eden Corley wasn’t completely caked in dirt. In fact, one might even be tempted to say she was clean — though perhaps the jeans and frayed hoodie weren’t exactly professional attire.
“Miss Corley,” said Meredith courteously. “How nice to see you again.”
“Yeah, sure thing, Doc. A real pleasure.”
Eden ignored the director’s outstretched hand and flopped heavily onto the sofa.
Mustering all her diplomacy, Meredith disregarded the slight and returned to her desk.
“May I offer my condolences? We were all heartbroken to hear about—”
“Heartbroken — right. I’m sure everyone’s real sad around here.”
Meredith almost hesitated. “After all, your grandfather was a great man — a true visionary.”
“Look, let’s just get this over with.” With a sour frown, Eden climbed to her feet and poked her head through the doorway. “Hey! Let’s get the lead out!”
A man in a sleek grey suit stepped through the door, closing it neatly behind him.
“Rosie, this is Uncle Ray — Uncle Ray, Rosie. All good? And we’re done.”
Eden moved to leave, but the man placed a hand warningly on the doorknob. And to Meredith’s great surprise, Eden didn’t argue. She scowled, of course, but otherwise resumed her seat in silence.
“Delightful to meet you,” said Meredith honestly; any person with actual authority over Eden Corley was a rare curiosity indeed. “Dr. Meredith Rosen, Acting Director of the Corley Institute.”
The man responded with a smile and a proper handshake. “Rayner Corley, actual Director of the Corley Institute.”
For the first time in her career, Meredith felt her jaw drop. She glanced at Eden, who sullenly rolled her eyes and nodded.
“I... I see.”
Director Corley stepped behind the desk and lowered himself into the high-backed leather chair.
“Now that we’ve been introduced,” he said pleasantly, “I should very much like your opinion of my plans for the Institute. Do have a seat.”
To be continued....