Rotville

By B. Bentley Summers

It’s the year 2030 in the post-apocalyptic city known as ROTVILLE, where people infected by a plague disease are quarantined. The director of Colosseo Super Max Prison, a penitentiary located inside the quarantined city, has carried out hundreds of inhumane experiments on inmates in an effort to make an enhanced human. He selects twenty-year-old Dylan, a psychologically disturbed inmate to be his prototype super soldier. He is confident he can transform the weak Dylan into a military killing machine through genetic engineering, and control him via a controversial memory-implant program. The director plans to showcase the obedient and super-enhanced Dylan in a gladiator tournament to his investors, who will then beg him to purchase similar soldiers.

But the plan goes awry when a group of rabid human mutants, the result of a top-secret project gone wrong, break out of Colosseo and flee into the nearby city. In the ensuing panic, the neuro-technician in charge of implanting Dylan’s memories makes a last-minute decision and changes course. She inserts her own memory program instead, one that teaches independence rather than obedience, and trains Dylan to be a modern-day samurai. And now the super-warrior Dylan must break out of Colosseo, save the neuro-technician's son inside the quarantined city, and somehow keep himself and the child from being torn to shreds by bloodthirsty mutants, while also avoiding being recaptured and returned to his prison hell to be paraded in the gladiator tournament for the director and investors' entertainment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B. Bentley Summers
• Release date: Aug 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9780999121436

Book preview

PART ONE

THE CORE PROGRAM

a.k.a. INVINCIBLE

CHAPTER ONE

The Tunnel

Howls of madness drifted through the pitch-black tunnel, echoing off the walls.

A young man trudged forward along the train track towards the tunnel end, gripping a short-barreled rifle in one hand. His thin shirt was shredded, burnt, and blood-soaked, his bicep bulging as he swiveled the gun across his body, aiming into the darkness.

Dizziness shuddered through him, and he slowed his pace even more. He focused on his surroundings; his ears were hypersensitive to the sounds around him. Droplets fell onto the tracks below. A light tap-tap noise sounded out several feet in front of him as if someone were running on and off the track.

A mixture of sweat and blood spilled into his eyes. He squeezed them shut and wiped his face off with the arm holding his rifle.

A large naked human figure darted straight at him and shrieked madly. The muzzle flashed as he pulled the trigger. Three shots closely fired together echoed off the walls. A thud sounded out as the body dropped at his feet, and he barely registered stepping over the carcass. Far down the tunnel, screams of insanity greeted the echoes from the rifle fire.

Voices were in his head, saying his name, 501.

He walked several paces and fell to his knees. Sweat dripped off his brow, and drops of blood fell steadily from the grisly nub at his shoulder. He coughed and spat out thick fluid.

A memory reeled through his head of a cruel man speaking forcibly, an inch from his face. Hud.

Hud was a thick muscled man who had a ferocious pitted face, and he’d gripped him by his neck, growling, You’re nothing, 501. And you’ll soon be nothing but the perfect, obedient soldier. You get it? You’re a product that will make others rich. Your memories, your life, will be gone, and you’ll know nothing but how to obey.

The young man, a.k.a. Subject 501, stared forward into the tunnel’s blackness. He shook his head and whispered words spoken by a dear friend: Every moment is a new beginning.

He got back to his feet and pushed on.

CHAPTER TWO

Aria’s Alive

A fan spun on the spacious room’s vaulted ceiling. The furniture was new and modern, reflecting 2030’s decorating trends. The dark leather couch had a couple of its cushions pushed onto the hardwood floor. A large virtual fish tank displaying various sea creatures was wall mounted at eye level. A bulbous fish of some sort fluttered its body, gliding over the virtual rocky floor.

A dark wall suddenly became transparent. Bright sunlight flooded the room, and a city lined with skyscrapers was made visible.

Several empty bottles of liquor sat up on the cabinets, a few knocked over on their sides with their necks precariously over the counter’s edge. The couch had clothes strewn over it. Pants were heaped on a chair, and several pairs of mismatched shoes jumbled below it.

On the far wall hung several portraits. One displayed a beautiful Persian woman dressed in a red silk blouse next to her husband, whose hand lay delicately on the curve of her hip. The woman had long, curly black hair, a smile showing perfect teeth, and dark brown skin. She exuded a glow that riveted the eye. Two children stood on either side of this couple: an eight-year-old son and a twelve-year-old daughter.

Next to this picture were more portraits, but only the woman and daughter were in these. The daughter had grown into a beautiful teenager.

The mother did not radiate light, though, as she had in the family photo. Instead, something dark had intruded on her edges. In one picture, the mother hugged her daughter close to her as if life itself might wrench her away.

In the bedroom, the bed was unmade and clothes spilled over the floor. A slim woman sprawled out on the carpet, wearing nothing but a wrinkled shirt and panties. She was the mother in the portrait, Bree.

The phone on top of Bree’s nightstand started to hum and vibrate against the surface, scooting towards the edge.

The TV clicked on at the far side of the bedroom. The noise brayed out the start of a breaking news story.

Bree pushed onto her side and moaned. Her hand reached out, and her fingers brushed the leg of the nightstand. The phone stopped buzzing and teetered on the table’s edge.

On the TV, a male newscaster said, "We have a live special report with Anne Hayes. She is live in the city known as Rotville. Anne—Anne. Are you there?"

A short blonde woman dressed in tan slacks and a dark blue jacket appeared. She looked not at the camera but off to the side, speaking animatedly to someone.

In the background, an expansive city had a tall, formidable wall surrounding it. The wall crawled around the entire city in a long arc and stopped at a blue lake. The expansive lake extended far behind the city, and inside this body of water sat an island with a gigantic modern complex that rose a hundred stories into the sky.

Inside the city’s large outer wall, four inner concentric concrete walls divided the city into five wards and made a half arc until they reached the lake. A high-speed rail line rose several feet above ground and moved through each wall, eventually going underground, below the lake, and heading towards the island.

Anne continued talking excitedly to someone off-camera and a man’s voice shouted, "We’re live, Anne!"

She snapped her eyes to the camera, her mouth quivered, and she straightened her posture. Thank you, Vince. I’m standing— Anne cringed and looked up into the sky as three drones flew in formation, low over the city. The drones were state-of-the-art unmanned military aircraft that had wingspans of over seventy feet, the capability to hover, and several missiles carried underneath their wings.

She quickly stared back at the camera. I’m here today in Augustus, Arizona. A city better known as Rotville. A city under siege and completely quarantined.

Anne glanced over her shoulder and did a double-take. Slender, seven-foot-tall droids came into the camera’s view far behind Anne. They had bright silver metal bodies and walked on spindly legs. Their arms, each with four metal pinchers, were held to their sides. They had soft blue orb lights on their narrow heads that appeared to rotate as if they were zooming in and telecasting images to someone.

One robot advanced quickly but stopped within a hundred feet. Anne kept her eyes fixed on the droid for a couple of moments, but finally looked back to the camera. She nervously continued the report. It’s been six years since the Rot Plague first wreaked havoc on our country. Six years since we sadly had to place our infected families, friends, and fellow Americans inside this city for their protection, as well as our own.

A series of explosions sounded out in the city near the lake. Anne flinched, asking someone fearfully what the noise was. Smoke rose from inside the inner city.

Anne appeared flustered but continued, We have not had peace since 2024. We are now regularly watching terrorist attacks inside our own country. Behind this city and lake, she pointed at the large complex, we house many of these terrorists who have attacked us, keeping them in the super-max prison called Colosseo. Now we are being told that today there has been a new outbreak in Rotville, something worse than the Rot Plague. As you can see, nothing is being permitted to leave this city. Drones are policing the skies and making sure everything stays grounded.

A large rumble drifted from the innermost buildings. The camera zoomed in and captured a pillar of smoke that rose in the air from a medical building located in the most interior part of the city.

Two small drone aircraft roared over Anne’s head, and she turned to watch them move over the city. A missile was fired from one, and she pointed up in the air, asking if the cameras were catching this footage.

The missile streaked across the sky and slammed into a helicopter taking off from the top of a building in the first ward. A deafening noise reverberated as the helicopter exploded into a ball of fire. The fiery mess of metal plummeted to the ground, disappearing out of view behind the large outer wall. Anne held a hand over her mouth and stared in disbelief at the city.

A person out of the camera’s sight cried out, "Oh my God, did you see that?"

The phone buzzed again on Bree’s nightstand. It inched forward, dropped off the table, bounced on the floor, and hit Bree’s hand. It vibrated under her fingers.

Bree opened her eyes and stared at the phone. She brought the phone up to her face to see the caller ID. She wiped the crust from her eyes, and a glint of confusion passed over her face. She quickly brought the phone up and croaked, H-hello.

A frightened voice carried over the receiver. "Mom?"

Bree’s eyes snapped open, and she wasn’t aware she was sitting upright. She mouthed words but nothing came out.

"Mom! Mom! Are you there?"

Bree stammered, "A-Aria? How is this possib—Where—Aria, is that you?"

Mom... I’m inside Rotville. I can’t talk... we’re in the Titus Biomedical Building... it’s— A loud and eerie human scream wafted through the line.

Bree choked. "Aria, what was that? Are you there? Oh my God... they said you died. They—"

Aria interrupted, her voice raised in panic. Mom. I gotta go. They’ve kept me here in Rotville—at the medical center. They wouldn’t let me call you. Something’s happening here; some kind of outbreak. I got to go, Mom... I—I love you.

A loud clank sounded out, as if Aria had dropped the phone and left in a hurry.

Bree cried out, "Aria! She pressed the phone closer, and she heard Aria’s faint voice telling someone, Come on; this way, Kevin." Aria’s voice faded then, and she was gone.

Bree pressed the phone so hard to her ear that it hurt. She prayed for her daughter’s voice to return, but Aria was gone. She was faintly aware that she was curled up now, sobbing uncontrollably, and repeating over and over, "I thought you were gone... I thought you were gone... Oh God, I thought—" She stopped, sniffed back snot, and fixed her gaze on the TV.

The newscaster, Anne, had her eyebrows furrowed, and her face trembled. "We have confirmed reports that the new infection breaking out in Rotville originated from the prison, Colosseo, itself. A highly contagious pathogen that causes intense aggression and loss of all rational thought.

"As you can clearly see behind me, most of the commotion is in the inner city, in what they call the first ward. The first ward, if you recall, is the most populated, and has several medical facilities, not to mention housing for staff, while the second through fourth wards are designated for citizens with the rot infection.

Sources tell me they are containing this rabid pathogen inside the city and say it won’t go any farther. We believe the Titus Biomedical Center, which is inside the first ward, has fallen. The U.S. Air Force has been put on high alert, and I’m told they will raze the entire area if the infection spreads outside of the city. In the meantime, the Director of Colosseo, Titus Maxim North, has full jurisdiction over the city and is using all of his personnel and drones to keep the area quarantined.

Soldiers dressed in black armored uniforms and helmets complete with black face shields approached her. They had their assault rifles pointed to the ground as they trotted forward. Colosseo troopers.

Anne’s face drew up in apprehension, and she looked straight into the camera. Reports are that the disease was carried by inmates escaping from the prison. Experiments have reportedly been run inside Colosseo on inmates, and—

The soldiers fanned out around Anne, and the screen went to colored bars.

Bree sat on the floor and tears flowed off her cheeks. She whispered to herself, daring to believe. My baby’s alive.

CHAPTER THREE

Who’s Curt?

Bree sat on a bench in the park, staring numbly out at the pond. The sun was starting to set in the late afternoon. The memory of her daughter calling that morning was fresh in her mind. A line of ducks swam in front of her, and she unconsciously tore off a piece of bread and threw it out to them.

A shadow moved over her. She looked up to see a young man in his late twenties, with short brown hair and sunglasses. He was of average height with a smooth, boyish face, and though he wore a short-sleeved, loosely fitted collared shirt, she could tell his body was lean and fit. He nodded at her. Ms. Sanez.

Nate? she asked. She looked around them. I thought both of you were coming.

Nate smiled lightly and took off his sunglasses. Mesmerizing green eyes stared down at her. Right. Well, Kale, you could say he got held up. Apparently, you were followed, Ms. Sanez.

She startled at the information, and Nate offered her a comforting smile. You’re okay now. But you need to come with me.

She hugged her purse close to her chest and asked, How do I know I can trust you?

Nate put his sunglasses back on and stared out at the pond. Your daughter, Aria, right? She called, what, this morning? You thought she was dead, but she’s alive. She’s in Arizona while you’re in Boston. And she’s stuck in the quarantined first ward of Rotville where a new outbreak has happened. You believe she found someplace secure inside the Titus Biomedical Center, or let’s hope so. The epidemic that has broken out there—do you have any idea what it is?

She slowly shook her head. Nate sat down on the bench next to her and turned to her. Can I call you Bree? He didn’t wait for an answer. We might have an idea of what it is. If we’re right, then this is not good.

He leaned back and looked across the pond. "Rotville is militarized right now. It was hard to get into before, but now even flocks of geese need passports to move over it. No one goes in or out. But we can get you in, Bree. We can. It’s good you called us a week ago to investigate your daughter’s death. We’ve been preparing. Of course, now the mission has changed. We’ve moved from intel gathering to a rescue mission. And we can get your daughter. That, I promise."

Nate stood up, started away, and said over his shoulder, Come with me if you want to save Aria.

She followed.

***

Bree followed Nate through the park, across the street, and into a nearby building. He stepped briskly to a parking garage and moved to a door with faded, peeling paint. He glanced behind them and pulled the door open.

Darkness was on the other side of the door, and Bree saw concrete stairs leading down into blackness. Nate urgently whispered, Come on, Bree. She passed him and put her hands out, touching the wall for balance as she started down the stairs.

Nate closed the door behind them, and it was utter blackness. Bree froze on the step. A bright light clicked on over her shoulder, and she glanced back to see Nate holding his phone up and using it as a flashlight. She stepped down the stairs and found herself in a dank basement with dark puddles spread over the concrete ground. The room was partially lit by poor fluorescent lights.

On one side of the room, a broad-shouldered man sat in a chair with his hands handcuffed to the chair legs. A bald-headed man stood next to him.

She glanced up at the bald man and back down to the handcuffed prisoner.

Nate said quietly from behind her, This is the guy who was following you.

She stepped up closer. The handcuffed man was in his late forties, his rough face set with deep frown lines and his thinning dark hair messy, with strands standing up in the air. His head hung, and drool was suspended from his bottom lip. Round glossy probes were connected to his forehead.

The bald man wore a light beige jacket and jeans. In his mid-thirties, he was ruggedly handsome, and his shaved head and dagger like eyes gave him an intimidating persona. Bree shivered, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

Kale, Nate said from behind her, this is Bree. Bree, meet my associate, Kale.

Kale turned to Nate and said, He’s a definite spy. He looked at Bree and nodded. Good to meet you. Wish it were better circumstances.

She hugged her chest hard, and a chill wound its way up her spine. Nate remained a pace behind her. Kale held up a small PDA device in front of Bree’s face. I got some interesting information, ma’am.

Bree regarded the captive in the chair and stammered, W-who is he? What’d you do to him?

Kale didn’t answer her question immediately.

Damn if I didn’t have the right neural tech equipment. Left the best stuff back home. But always keep something with me. This is interrogation equipment, ma’am. Advanced neural technology that scans his thoughts. The more he resists, the more it costs him. He shrugged. I just interrogated him and got some information, though he didn’t have much. Kale set his equipment down on the floor.

I don’t understand. Does he know about Aria? Bree glanced over her shoulder at Nate and back to Kale.

Her eyes widened as Kale took out a pistol from his shoulder holster. He twisted a large round piece on the end of the barrel and ignored her question. You know this guy? Recognize him? Says his name is Rog. He’s been following you for a while now.

She emphatically shook her head. N-no. Or I might have seen him a couple of times on the street. I don’t know.

What about a Dr. Curt Lewis? You recognize that name? Kale asked.

She stared dumbly at Rog, shook her head, and asked, Who’s Curt?

Kale replied, That’s this guy’s employer. He’s the chief scientist at Colosseo. He works directly under Colosseo’s Director, Titus Maxim North. Apparently, Curt wanted you out of the picture.

She took a breath in. "Out of the picture? He wanted to hurt me?"

Dead, Bree. I think Kale is trying to say this Rog is not just a spy but an assassin.

Kale quickly asked his next question. What about Dr. Jun Sun? She works inside Colosseo and is renowned for her work in neural insemination.

Neural insemination? Bree repeated and slowly shook her head.

Neural insemination, Nate said, is the process of implanting new memories into one’s mind, making them believe they had a different past—

Bree held her hand up, interrupting Nate, and emphatically shook her head. I’ve heard of it. She wiped tears from her eyes, pointed at Rog, and repeated her question with a hysterical tone. "Just tell me. Does he know if Aria is okay?"

Kale’s voice was calm. No. But he knew Aria was inside the biomedical center in Rotville. And he knows her precious blood was used for a genetic engineering serum called Regen. You ever heard of it?

No, Bree answered. What are you going to do with him?

Kale pointed his gun at point-blank range at the man’s chest in answer. Three "phooot" sounds blurted out, and she gave a short cry. The assassin jerked in his chair, and his body leaned over. Drool spilled from his lips to his jeans.

Kale took off the silencer and placed his pistol back inside his holster.

Nate’s tone was sharp. That was rather brash, wasn’t it, Kale?

Kale looked up, eyed them both, and started to untwist the round piece from his barrel. Kid here doesn’t like senseless violence. Kale’s eyes rested on the dead man. But I’m pretty sure Nate would agree that we weren’t going to drag his ass with us.

Nate came up beside Bree and scratched his cheek as he regarded the corpse. I’m always down for killing an assassin. Just think you could’ve had the lady look away, is all. Nate faced Bree and said softly, We have some help inside, but we don’t have a whole lot of time. You said you could transfer cash? We have the hardware at our fingertips; we just need the money. And we can leave quick, too.

She nodded, and stared at Nate and Kale. I’m going with you.

Nate glanced at Kale in surprise and looked back to her. Bree, look, what we’re doing is going to be—

Bree interrupted, I know it’s dangerous. She looked down at the dead assassin and back up at Nate. But you’re getting my daughter, who I thought was dead. She’s not, though. Bree touched her mouth as a sob spilled out. S-she’s all I’ve got now. If this is going to happen, then I go.

Kale quickly nodded. Okay, you’re in. You need to lose your cell phone, and any electronics. They can track them. And, Bree, we need those funds. We need to get some heavy hardware if we’re going straight into Rotville. And we need to move fast.

CHAPTER FOUR

Regen Formula

Over Six Weeks Earlier

The elevator’s computerized voice announced, Floor 80. Neural Fusion. Restricted area.

Dr. Curt Lewis stepped out of the elevator into a corridor. He was a skinny man edging towards gaunt, his cheeks sunken, and he had gray eyebrows and no hair. He walked through the corridor and passed four Colosseo guards dressed in black uniforms. Rifles rested on their shoulders.

The fluorescent lights gleamed off Curt’s bald head. He buttoned a clasp on his white coat and barely glanced up at the guards as he passed them. He reflected on the work he needed to do and rarely took time to register the police force spread around Colosseo.

He stepped towards a mid-sized lobby with two tall droids standing in front of double metal doors. Enforcers.

The Enforcers, of course, were a different story from the guards. They were more imposing, standing over seven feet tall. Their silver metallic bodies had long spindly legs, black metal arms, and rotund forearms that ended with four appendages.

One droid stepped into the middle of the room towards him, and its metallic feet clicked on the tile.

The Colosseo police might give the inmates the laws to follow, but it was the Enforcers who instilled the fear that ensured the laws were obeyed.

Curt stared up at the droid’s head to see several bluish glowing orbs. The orbs hummed, and he knew it was encoding his face for recognition and analyzing his facial expressions for any duress.

The droid’s arm came out, and the four metal appendages on the end of its arm rotated, whirred, and disappeared. A smooth metal fingerprint scanner had emerged from the tip of the arm. Curt placed his hand on the surface and a bright green light illuminated from the scanner. The droid straightened and took steps backwards. The metal feet resonated as they hit the floor’s surface and the end of its arm transformed back to four metal pinchers.

Good morning, Dr. Curt Lewis, it declared in a mechanical voice. "An analysis of Invincible on the Core floor is being compiled and will be ready for your review.

The Neural Fusion program has had no unusual activities overnight. Rabids are stable. Also, Dr. Lewis, regen demonstrated a probable perfect formula on Subjects Four through Ten.

Curt’s eyes brightened and he muttered, "Good... good."

The doors behind the droid made several clicks and swung open. Curt walked through the doorway into the operations room. The doors closed behind him.

He came to a computer, placed an ID card inside, and put his thumb on an identifier. The computer hummed and data scrolled across the screen.

The origin of Invincible did not have a clear date. Titus, the Director of Colosseo, was the molecular biologist turned multi-millionaire who’d first started the program long before Curt had met him.

Initially, Titus had contracted with the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) to help them create a superior human fighting force. Invincible had been born. In Titus’s endeavors, he had created Regen, which was short for Regenesis.

Regen was meant to revolutionize genetic engineering and could be used to genetically modify a body, creating an enhanced super human. The work had become costly, though, and required risky experimentation, and the U.S. department had thus become disinterested. Titus then took his work into the private sector.

Titus had eventually recruited Curt to push the research forward. Curt, however, had struggled to find the right Regen formula to make bone and skin tissue regenerate like they wanted. They’d needed more subjects. The goal was to come up with a compound that enabled the human body to overcome any wounds and heal itself. Even regrow severed limbs. Curt and his team had been stumped. They’d been close but had yet to find the right answer.

The Rot Plague in 2024 had changed everything. Millions died from the plague, but a small portion lived. Their ailment was rotting skin. Regen was applied to these victims, and the research surged forward. Curt found that younger victims inflicted with the rot disease responded better to Regen and regrew tissue at a faster rate, and showed the most improvement. He improved the formula.

If Curt could locate just one victim who beat the Rot Plague on his own, however, that would change everything. A person who showed natural immunity to the Rot Plague would give his research the perfect push. It would accelerate Regen beyond imagination, and he would have his formula.

He’d found the perfect specimen several months ago: a girl named Aria who showed all the common symptoms of the rot disease. Her affluent mother had had the money to prevent her from being flown to Rotville, where they quarantined most rot victims. Rather, Aria’s mother sent her daughter to a private center on the East Coast. But within days of being transferred to the center, the disease in Aria turned course fast and she appeared not just to be healing but to becoming enhanced. Curt, holding top security in the nation, and having access to the data at all the Rot Centers across the country, learned about Aria. Without wasting a minute, he had the girl sent directly to him. She now lived at the Titus Biomedical Center.

Curt had used her blood to create a serum and had been using it on test subjects from Colosseo in an attempt to create a superhuman who could regrow limbs.

Slow progress came at first with subjects. Younger participants showed more potential than older ones. The formula was tweaked and subjects grew stronger, wounds healed faster, but many of these got sick or died. But they pushed on.

If what he had heard from the droid about finding the correct formula was true, then they could move forward in creating a true super soldier.

Curt bent down and hurriedly typed. He whispered to himself, Please be it.

He observed the calculated analysis and stood up. A smile curved on his lips. He whispered, Thank you, Aria. The Regen formula had indeed been perfected.

Curt printed out the results. Regen had just taken a quantum leap forward. He brought the phone to his ear, got Titus’s voicemail, and clicked off. He dialed an extension and casually walked through his laboratory as the line on the other end rang.

A man answered, and Curt couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. Tom. Phase Two is completed. We have the perfect Regen formula. Tom Walkins was the Deputy Director of Colosseo who kept his ear to the ground, making it a point to know all the goings on inside Colosseo.

Tom’s voice frothed with excitement. Then the most important piece of Invincible is now done. We can bring the obedience program fully online?

Yes. We can move to the next phase, Curt tittered.

Should we try Regen on Subject 480? Tom asked.

Curt shook his head. The one who had his arm broken? No. We need someone who is emotionally weaker. Broken.

Ok, this is good, Curt. Titus will be very pleased.

Yes, he will. The line went dead. Curt brought the phone down to its cradle and reflected.

The Regen program was Titus’s project, not his. The entirety of Invincible, in fact, belonged to Titus. He would receive all the credit for creating a super human.

Curt stepped up to a glass-enclosed platform. He splayed his hands on the military-plated glass. He stared inside at his project. He had dubbed his own program The Rabids. No one touched this project but him.

Nine humans were inside the enclosed room, their backs facing Curt. Each being was spaced four feet apart, and the figures were dressed in a black nylon fabric that assisted in hygiene. On the front of each of their foreheads was a thin metallic headband with blinking lights that looked like a fancy New Age silver crown.

Slowly, their bodies had indeed been... mutating. They had always been husky men, but the muscle density was increasing, causing them to appear grotesque.

The subjects, who’d once been inmates at Colosseo, did not appear to be human anymore. Their skin had turned paler—even the black and Hispanic men’s—and their bodies had become more stooped, as if they’d been made to sprint on all fours rather than just two legs.

Curt regarded the nearest subject, a bald-headed pasty white man with a swastika on his neck. Curt considered him the leader, calling him Alpha. A black man stood close to this person, his hands lax, and they both stared blankly forward.

Curt watched in amazement as they stood so perfectly still. He brought his knuckles back and lightly tapped on the window. A dull thud sounded out.

All nine subjects turned at the same time to face him. Curt grinned.

CHAPTER FIVE

Dr. Jun Sun, Neural Inseminator

Dr. Jun Sun stared blankly ahead as she waited for the train to take her into Colosseo.

She was forty-five, although her Japanese heritage made her seem like she was in her early thirties. But while her mother was Japanese, her father had been Irish, and she had gotten large round eyes, light brown skin, and thick black hair from the mix. She had picked up the habit, since starting at Colosseo, of nervously twirling her shoulder-length hair with one finger.

She didn’t register the people speaking on either side of her, nor did she register the train speeding past her.

The train stopped fully, and she barely looked up as the doors silently opened. The bustle of people around her straightened into a line and started pushing forward. She habitually stepped along with them.

She came to the train door, scanned her badge over a glass scanner, and looked up at a green light shining in her eyes that verified her identity. A computerized voice quickly repeated her name. Dr. Jun Sun, Chief Neural Inseminator.

She walked inside the train, sat down, folded her hands on her lap, and stared out her window. The train lurched and pushed forward, rapidly speeding up. A Colosseo security guard wearing his armored black uniform and with his face shield down stepped through the aisle. He carried an assault rifle across his chest and scanned the passengers as he walked down the train.

This was a modern uni-rail train that sped over an elevated track, moving ten miles from outside of the city limits of Rotville to inside the super-max prison. She herself resided in a small neighborhood right outside of Rotville that had been developed for high-status employees at Colosseo. Her entire department was highly prized, and several of her staff were also allowed to live in the same neighborhood as Jun. Most of the prison staff, medical administration, and their families resided inside of the first ward, which was nearest the lake.

The train on these mornings, after picking up people on the outside of Rotville, made only one stop, for security reasons: Colosseo.

Tall buildings flew past her. They sped through a long tunnel, going through Rotville’s outer wall, and her car was suddenly filled with bright light as it broke into the daylight.

Individual homes in their collective neighborhoods rushed past her. She stared longingly at a park filled with lush green trees.

She craned her head around, staring over in the direction of a large gymnasium set. There were, of course, no children. This city had been converted to take in the rotties, as they were known, long ago.

Several trees came into view. They flew past her window, and her car was enveloped in darkness again. The train barreled through another tunnel. Then it popped out and moved through another large residential neighborhood.

The city was divided into five sections called wards. Each ward was separated by tall half-concentric walls that stopped at the lake’s edge. Where she lived, in her upscale secure neighborhood outside of the city, the outer wall of Rotville looked modernized and elegant. The outside wall was what the public saw—and Titus, the Director of Colosseo, and of the city for that matter, wanted to maintain a good public view. The walls became plainer in appearance, with no artwork or carved décor, as they moved farther through the city.

The citizens infected with the rot disease were placed in the second to fourth wards. The fourth ward contained rotties in advanced stages, approaching death. The fifth ward, which was nearest the outer wall, was the smallest sector of Rotville and served as the firewall to make certain no one escaped the city. A moderately sized Colosseo security force constantly policed this area, and escapees were duly punished. Death was the typical sentence.

Darkness again. Another tunnel.

The train came out into the open and sped past a splendor of medical facility buildings. She gazed over at the expansive Titus Biomedical Building that stood a half-mile away, inside the first ward. A wall suddenly blocked her view. The train had started its descent underground and entered the tunnel that burrowed under the lake. The lights inside the train automatically became brighter, and she gazed at the other passengers on the train. Two men dressed in their lab coats quietly talked together.

A brunette woman, about the same age as Jun, sat two seats up from her and blankly stared forward. Leah Kauf.

Leah tightly gripped her handbag under her arm and wrung her hands. Jun looked out the window into the darkness and remembered Evan.

***

Jun had started at the Colosseo labs over a year before. Colosseo was foremost a prison, but inside, its vast network of top-secret research laboratories on several floors rivaled the Titus Biomedical Center, where Evan lived.

She’d met Evan six months after beginning her work at Colosseo. He was a thirty-five-year-old man with a lean, athletic body and an unassuming attitude that she found attractive. Evan had been distant at first, only giving her necessary information. Her contract was clear in that discussion of work was restricted, and fraternizing outside of work was frowned upon, but it happened.

She had fallen for Evan. First, she knew few people. It didn’t help that she and Evan lived in the same complex, and it also didn’t help that she was only allowed to see her son at the Titus Biomedical Center a few times a week. Her son was emotionally disturbed and detached, and he denied her existence as his lonely and heartbroken mother.

The