The Ganga Shift

By Mary Bernsen

Life hasn’t been easy for Isabella. She spent most of her childhood in the foster care system, and now at twenty-two she has landed herself in prison on drug charges. Her troubled past is what makes her a perfect candidate for the government’s latest scientific endeavor, Operation Gene Re-sequencing. No one will miss her. No one will question her absence. But, when it’s discovered Isabella is immune to their DNA-changing drugs, she is selected to be used as prey for those who aren’t.

Chase and Brayden couldn’t be more opposite; Chase is calm, reserved, and completely insistent that he will control the changes the virus is causing in his body. Brayden, on the other hand, has always been wild and uninhibited. He welcomes the new animalistic nature coming over him. The one thing they have in common? They both have a taste for the cute little Asian inmate who is now sharing their cell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Parliament House
• Release date: Apr 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9788827546994

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Chapter 1

You’re making this much more difficult than it needs to be, Ms. Baker.

The warden tightened the dull, fraying leather restraints on Isabella’s wrist, pinching her skin into the armrest of the ice-cold metal chair he had tethered her to. Despite the sting, she refused to wince.

Instead, she focused on her hatred and glared wordlessly at him. Detestation burned on her cheeks, and her jaw ached from grinding her teeth.

A flickering lightbulb hovered above their heads on a crude wire, offering a circle of clarity in an otherwise dark and hidden room. The secrecy was redundant and stupid—she knew where she was. They had taken her to this room, tucked in a hidden corner of the infirmary, countless times over the last couple of weeks.

And she knew what was coming.

Right on cue, the jumpy redheaded nurse who had become so familiar to Isabella knocked on the other side of the door.

Just a minute, the warden barked before returning his attention to his prisoner. He slid a finger across her cheek, then slipped it under her chin before he brought his mouth a breath away from her face. This is your last chance, my little dragonet. All you have to do is submit, just a little, and I can make it stop. This is the last infusion before your DNA will change permanently. Let me help you.

Isabella lifted a disgusted lip at him, baring her teeth. Russell Walker had called her his dragonet from the very first day she stepped foot into the Denver Women’s Correctional Facility two years ago. A Japanese chick with spunk. The jackass didn’t even take the time to come up with just a little creativity.

He leaned forward just a bit, as if he had somehow determined she would finally give in to his advances.

Walker, she warned with a stern edge in her voice. Do I really need to remind you of the last time you tried to put your filthy mouth on me?

She clicked her teeth together and he immediately tensed. The warden took a step back as he rubbed the scar that marred his upper lip. A smug grin swept across her face as she recalled the way his eyes widened to the size of saucers when she bit down on him, her teeth sinking completely through his flesh.

Isabella had little doubt that if he were to remember anything about her once she was gone, it would be that she was the first and only inmate to send the infamous Richard Walker to the infirmary.

He heaved out a heavy sigh, sinking the weight of his fat stomach even lower. You’re going to wish you had decided differently. You have my word on that.

She lifted her chin, once again offering him the defiant silence she knew infuriated him. As much as he tried to hide it, his flexing jaw revealed her victory. He turned on his heels and took long, hurried strides across the room. The metal door clanked and creaked as he unlatched the lock and swung it open.

The squeaking of Patsy’s sneakers followed. She wore her fiery red hair pulled back this time. Usually she let the curls fall to frame her chubby face. She wore the standard blue scrubs along with her familiar plastered on apologetic smile that told Isabella she wanted nothing more than to tell the girl everything would be all right.

Of course, she wouldn’t. Isabella couldn’t even imagine her telling such a lie with a straight face.

How are you feeling today, Isabella? she asked as she pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose.

Fine, she answered simply.

No changes in your sleeping patterns?

No.

Patsy creased her forehead, observing her a moment before tilting Isabella’s head back to shine a light in her eyes. What about your appetite? Have you been any hungrier than usual?

Or in my sexual urges, Isabella announced before it could be asked. Everything is the same as the last time I was here, Patsy.

Hm. She tapped her index finger against her lips. Mr. Walker, I think we should let Doctor Conley examine her before we—

Like hell, he shouted before she could finish the suggestion.

Sir, please be reasonable. Every other host has exhibited at least subtle signs of the mutation after just the first injection, and this will be Isabella’s final dose. She should be all but changed by this point. Perhaps there’s something unusual in her genes that’s blocking the change from occurring. If there’s even a small possibility she is immune, he’s going to want to know.

He’s going to get his hands on her soon enough. What difference will it make if it’s before or after the final shot?

Could you imagine the implications? The idea that someone could be immune has never even been considered. Doctor Conley is going to want to—

Walker threw is his hand in the air, his face turning crimson with rage. This is my prison, Patsy. You work for me, not Doctor Conley. Understood?

She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again just as quick. Even his employees were trained not to provoke the beast. Yes, Mr. Walker.

Then, he jerked his head in the detained inmate’s direction, proceed.

All right. Patsy gave a curt nod before she pulled a rolling stool to Isabella’s side and sat on it. Isabella, I need to prepare you for what you are about to experience.

The girl swallowed the lump that had found its way lodged in her throat. Patsy had probably injected her a dozen times, and each stick was more painful than the last. The last time, her whole body wracked with burning spasms, sending her into seizure-like convulsions until she passed out from the pain.

Isabella didn’t know what the serum was supposed to do to her, but whatever it was, it clearly it wasn’t working. She was going through all this for nothing. Her pride wouldn’t let her ask to see this Doctor Conley—whoever he was. If she did ask, Walker would know she was afraid. He wouldn’t get that satisfaction.

Still, a split second of weakness had her considering the warden’s offer; she was sure if she begged him to reconsider, he would stop this whole thing. If she promised to comply with his rules, if she agreed to show him a little respect in front of the other inmates, maybe even threw him a wink every now and again . . .

No. She wouldn’t let him win.

She sucked in a deep breath, and paid close attention to what Patsy was telling her, preparing for the worst.

You’ll quite likely fall unconscious in a matter of moments once I’ve administered the shot, the nurse explained. The pain will be excruciating.

Isabella’s face went numb as blood drained from her cheeks. Patsy wasn’t going to sugarcoat shit for her. As her heart rattled against her ribcage, Isabella fixated on the reflection of her orange jump suit in Patsy’s glasses. A simple distraction to keep from shaking.

When you wake up you can expect to feel some muscle aches and nausea, that’s normal. If all goes according to plan, there will be some other . . . less familiar side effects.

Such as?

You’ll notice some physiological changes. Your heart rate will likely be much higher than normal, which means you’ll feel hotter. Your vision will be sharper, as will your sense of smell.

Are you trying to tell me I’m going to turn into a dog?

Patsy leaned back in her chair, trying to create a space of indifferent distance between them. I can’t say what you’ll turn into. A beast of some sort, but I don’t know how your body will morph under this particular strain of the virus. Everyone’s DNA seems to react differently.

A virus? Isabella’s eyes grew wide. You’ve been injecting me with a virus?

The nurse swallowed hard, banishing her guilt down into her gut where it was sure to bubble up again later. I can’t go into specifics, but yes. We’re in the beginning stages of testing—

That’s bullshit! Isabella yanked hard on her restraints. They held tight, barely keeping her from leaping at the warden. You can’t do this to me, Walker! I have rights!

Richard lifted a casual arm and rested it on the wall. A deep, echoing laugh bounced from his lips and circled her, taunting her fury. You are a ward of the State of Colorado, he reminded her. You don’t have any rights at all.

That isn’t true. You’re full of shit. The DA will—

I don’t have the slightest desire to play lawyer with you, Ms. Baker. This is beyond the District Attorney’s jurisdiction. The fact is, Uncle Sam needs patsies for his latest military maneuver. The government isn’t about to dose up this nation’s finest with this stuff until we know if it’s safe. That’s where you come in: the nation’s trash. Nobody would miss you if you dropped dead today, would they Isabella?

Tears stung Isabella’s eyes, but she blinked them back. Nobody would miss her. That was a fact. Nobody cared enough about her to so much as question what happened. She pressed her thin lips into a hard line. You’re a bastard, Walker. A cold, twisted fuck.

Richard threw a hand over his chest, feigning a heartache. Oh, come now, Ms. Baker. I did try to help you, didn’t I?

You tried to turn me into a docile little puppet.

All in the name of order, my little dragonet. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s the chaos your little prison riots create. You make my life hell in here. It’s my pleasure to volunteer you for this civic duty.

How do you think turning me into some kind of creature is going to help you any? I’ll just eat the rest of your fucking face off.

You won’t be my problem after today, Ms. Baker. You’ll be transported to another facility, one that specializes in containing whatever it is you will become.

A swell of dread crashed into her, leaving Isabella’s body feeling limp. Lucky you, she managed with a crack in her voice.

Warden Walker’s expression softened as he took two small steps toward the girl. It might be of solace for you to know, Isabella, that despite the troubles you have caused me here, I’ve always held quite the affection for you.

He held Isabella’s gaze a moment longer before turning his attention to the nurse. Proceed.

Patsy moved her eyes between the two before nodding. Yes, sir. She reached a hand into the pocket over her breast and pulled out a syringe. Try to relax, Isabella.

Relax? This bitch has to be kidding.

Isabella blew out a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. As much as she wanted to fight, it would be useless. She wasn’t getting free. The only thing she could do was hope this virus turned her into some kind of badass monster. A dragon, maybe, so she could fry the warden’s head clean off his sorry neck. His dragonet would get the last laugh.

The image almost managed to twitch her lips into a smile, but the sudden sting of a needle piercing the tender skin on the inside of her elbow interrupted her happy thought.

A surge of nerve-rattling pain rushed through Isabella’s body. She arched her back, and collapsed against the chair again just as quick. Her muscles twitched, sending her entire body into convulsions so strong she couldn’t even manage a scream. She welcomed the darkness as it set in, even if it only offered a veil between her and the unbearable agony.

Voices echoed in the distance. Her consciousness was muddy and heavy, but she was just lucid enough to make out Patsy and the warden debating her fate.

Stupid girl, Walker shouted over her lifeless shell of a body. Why couldn’t you have just taken my deal?

She wanted to scream back at him. To point out he knew she wouldn’t comply. It wasn’t in her nature. Isabella was headstrong, unbreakable . . . and she suspected that’s exactly why he coveted her so. She challenged him and he worshiped her for it—and she wanted to hurl the truth at him like daggers. But, the words died on her thick, paralyzed tongue, sinking back down her throat and clogging up her air supply.

The warden cleared his throat. His loud boots paced across the floor as he regained himself. Check her vitals, Patsy.

Pasty shaking head took her wrist, and whispered while she figured the rate of Isabella’s heartbeat.

Sixty-two, she said in disbelief.

That’s impossible. Richard waved a dismissive hand at the nurse. Move away.

She clamored to her feet and he wedged himself between her and the still-restrained inmate. He bent over the girl and checked her heart rate himself.

How is this possible? he asked. Every other subject’s heart rate was at least triple this immediately following the final injection.

Every other subject showed significant changes well before the final dose.

Maybe it’s just delayed.

Patsy raised a curious eyebrow. I urge you to consult with Doctor Conley, Mr. Walker. It’s in the best interest of the experiment.

A loud crash sounded as Richard threw a heavy fist into the steel door, crushing the bones. He withdrew quickly, and clutched at his surely broken hand.

Son of a bitch!

Mr. Walker, Patsy screeched wide-eyed. She hurried to his side, but he pushed her away.

Go call the doctor. Wait. Sedate her first. I’d rather him examine her before she wakes up. God knows what kind of state she’s liable to be in if she comes to while he’s groping her.

Chapter 2

Oh my God, Brayden moaned as he took in a long, drawn-out whiff. What the hell is that smell?

He stuck his nose between the bars of his holding cell, inching himself as close as possible to whatever sent such an intoxicating scent into the room. His nostrils flared in approval.

His cellmate, Chase, sat on the other end of their prison, leaning against the concrete wall. Control yourself, he warned. Remember what happened the last time you turned during the day?

Brayden glanced down at his arm. The flesh was still pink and raised from the change-burn. It still hurt like hell. If the pain wasn’t enough of an incentive, remembering how his stomach turned at the smell of singed hair and skin was enough to reign himself in.

Everything smelled so much more intense once the virus changed them. Everything sounded so much clearer. And the taste of food . . . Oh, Jesus. The chewy, delicious flavor of a bloody rare steak was enough to get Brayden off.

His prude of a cellmate, on the other hand, had too much self-control to allow himself to get lost in the new sensations. They were foreign, new, and by Chase’s experience with them, dangerous. Endless hours Brayden found himself subjected to the control-freak’s rantings. The guy would go on and on about how they had to find a way to control this change that was forced on them. As far as Brayden was concerned, it was a hell of a lot easier to just accept it and make the best of the situation.

Chase ran his hand through his thick, black hair and closed his eyes, struggling to keep the calm facade up. Catching a glimpse of the man’s trembling hands made Brayden’s upper lip twitch into a smirk. The smell, wherever it was coming from, was overwhelmingly inebriating. Impossible to resist, even for the all-mighty Chase, who had resorted to humming to himself to escape the temptation.

Not this shit again, Brayden complained. You drive me crazy with that bullshit.

It’s called meditation, Chase said dryly. It could help you control—

"Oh, shut up. There is no controlling whatever the hell this is, Chase. Face it: they fucked us up. Just enjoy the perks of it, huh?"

God, I hate dogs, Chase mumbled.

Stop calling me a damn dog! Brayden lifted his upper lip, exposing his teeth as his canines morphed into fangs. I’m a fucking wolf, cat.

Put her in cell three. A voice from down the hall yelled.

Not yet, Doctor Conley’s familiar voice countered. I want to talk to her when she comes to. Put her in the examination room.

The enticing fragrance drew nearer, and even Chase made his way next to Brayden to check out the source. Their mouths watered as the sound of footsteps closed in.

Two guards dressed in full military camo carried the limp, lifeless body of a girl down the narrow corridor between their cell and the empty one across from them.

The orange jumpsuit she wore hung off her petite frame like a tent, contrasting with her dark beige skin tone. Her black hair was tied into a messy bun, but her long bangs covered her face, barely exposing her almond-shaped eyes. She was conscious, if only barely, and blinking rapidly as she struggled to take in her surroundings.

The men tasked with transporting her were marines, and part of the few that were privy to the intentions of this site. They were around often, and this smell had never accompanied them before. As they passed directly in front their cell it became glaringly obvious it was the newcomer that smelled so delicious.

Wait, wait, wait. Brayden stuck his arm between the bars and grabbed at one of the guards. Desperate and unashamed, he begged, Just a minute, please.

Get back in your cage, one of the Marines ordered.

But, I just want to smell her.

The jailors looked curiously at one another and shook their heads in unison with sardonic grins plastered on their faces.

Sorry boys, the same one teased. This one’s defective. I doubt you’ll get to play with her.

A growl played on Chase’s lips, kept at bay only by the sight of Doctor Conley following the men.

Gentlemen. The doctor acknowledged them only briefly. As usual, he couldn’t be bothered to socialize with the lab rats. Unless, apparently, they were of the hot Asian variety, like the latest recruit.

Out of habit, the boys nodded their respect but remained silent as they watched the group disappear into another room. The marines entered only long enough to restrain the girl onto a stainless steel medical table before they took their place just outside the doorway. Doctor Conley closed the door once they exited, leaving nothing but a trace of the odor escaping from the bottom crack.

Are you with me, Ms. Baker? Doctor Conley leaned over his subject, watching her close for a sign that she was regaining herself.

Isabella groaned an incoherent response. She attempted to sit up, but the leather belts across her knees and chest kept her still. Still groggy from the sedatives, she didn’t have the energy yet to fight against them.

Apparently satisfied with her presence, Doctor Conley opened a manila folder and began flipping through its contents.

Five-foot two, one hundred and two pounds, and twenty-two years old, he read aloud. There’s no information readily available on your parents, Isabella. Why is that?

A fog clouded her mind. She could hear him, but she couldn’t make her mouth move. The more she came to, the more she realized how cold she was. A bone-chilling freeze shook her entire body.

Slowly, her mind started to clear, and her first lucid thought sent her heart racing in panic.

She was trapped.

Isabella lurched forward, but the restraints kept her from getting far. She lifted her head, the only part of her body not tied down, and tried to scream. Terror stole her voice; nothing but air escaped her lips. She wiggled and writhed, but the more she struggled the more the realization set in that she was going nowhere.

Finally, she managed to will her eyes open. A piercing light penetrated through her retinas just before the glow was covered by something coming at her. A hand came down on her forehead, slamming the back of her skull onto the table before a flattened palm slapped over her mouth.

Tears stung Isabella’s eyes, and she sobbed against the stranger’s calloused skin.

Shhh, Doctor Conley whispered in her ear. I can’t have you riling up the other prisoners, Isabella. If you scream, you’ll put them in a feeding frenzy. Now, I’m going to release you, and you will remain calm. Understood?

She nodded as a tear ran down the side of her head, disappearing in the shine of her hair.

Good. Doctor Conley took his hands away slowly. From inside his breast pocket, he pulled out a bottle of hand sanitizer and rubbed himself from fingertips to elbows. Alcohol mixed with the already present stench of ammonia, making Isabella’s stomach roil.

Now, your mother. Let’s start with her.

Please . . . Isabella’s voice cracked and she swallowed hard against the dryness in her throat. Some water?

Conley huffed out an annoyed sigh before he reached down and unlatched the belt holding Isabella’s chest and arms to the table. As she sat up, he took a specimen cup from a cupboard and filled it with water from the sink.

Thank you, she whispered as she took it from him.

A check around the room revealed nothing as to her whereabouts. Barren concrete walls interrupted only by the occasional stainless-steel cabinet and a door fitted with a fingerprint locking mechanism.

So, that’s why he’d given her some wiggle room without any fight. She’d have to kill him to get out on her own, and as usual she