Chapter Thirty-Three: Cold-Blooded

The Empire State University campus, like any other educational facility, was hauntingly eerie at night when the halls were empty and silent. Maybe a few straggling students would be drifting through the courtyard on their way to or from the library, but otherwise it was just teaching staff dragging themselves home.

A staff member in particular had just arrived; fortunately, she wasn't there to work.

"I thought Karlson said something about me having to throw you out if I ever saw you around here after taking leave," whistled the security guard.

Martha Connors reached into her pocket and dug around for her lab keys. "Right. Well good luck with that. I've forgotten my son's birthday present in the back room and I'll be damned if I'm going to let some small sarcastic man stop me from making him happy on his special day."

The guard shook his head with a smirk. "You're a terrible mother."

"I don't recall you being father of the year, mister 'I'm going to get help for my daughter's science project from an actual biology professor instead of doing it myself'," she quipped as she finally scooped her keys out.

She slid the key into the lock as the guard pressed, "What's he getting this time? A dictionary?"

"Don't be stupid. That was for his twelfth. He's getting a Nintendo Switch."

"Damn. Should've let myself in and had a game or two," said the guard as he started to trudge lazily down the hall.

"Bye, Gary," Martha dismissed with an eyeroll.

She pulled the door open and its ivory surface immediately gave way to pitch black. A wave of heat swept forth and seeped into Martha's face. She reeled back in surprise, then reached toward the light switch.

Martha flicked the switch.

Stark white flooded the lab, painting the mess-strewn tables and floors in blinding light. Papers fluttered across the room from the gush of inward flowing air caused by the opening door. Petri dishes were haphazardly speckled about the desks.

"G-Gary," Martha called sternly. The shock stuffle what should've been a clear and audible bark.

No one came, only the papers mid-flight settled on the floor and the room became still... Well, almost still.

In the far corner, at Curt's desk, was a writhing shape. Martha took several steps forward, arms frozen in fear. As she closed in, the shape became a pair of shoulders clad in stained clothes; someone was sitting in her husband's chair, hunched over his work desk.

Her lips thinned and she clenched her fists when she spied several spent injection syringes lined up on the table. She tried to work something up to say to this junkie, but his sporadic twitching and jerking seized her mind.

Suddenly, the figure turned over his shoulder and sent a pair of fearful eyes toward Martha.

"...Curt?" she spat. "W-What the hell are you doing here?!"

Curt didn't seem to comprehend what was said. He simply stared into her eyes.

Martha's eyes began to burn red. "What happened to that business trip to the West Coast? You lied to me? To Billy?"

Finally, the man seemed to snap out of his daze. "Y-You shouldn't be here. I'm still...still working," he mumbled.

His face was covered in sweat, a result of the extremely warm temperature that the air-conditioner had been set to.

Martha's face dropped when her mind retraced its steps. The syringes. "C-Curt, what's going on?"

"It was meant to be a surprise." He slowly raised his trembling right arm. His right arm, Martha repeated to herself in her mind. The same one he lost during his service in the military.

"N-No. No, you didn't."

Curt's grogginess noticeably began to wane. "Martha...I had to."

"The EGR...you tested it on yourself," she said aloud, almost as if she was trying to convince herself out of her own disbelief. The specialised Early Growth Response gene sequence was tailored by combining regenerative DNA from over fifteen different reptile species. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The regulations you've broken? The University will..."

Her voice trailed off as her eyes focused on Curt's arm. There it was. Pale, slick, and fresh. Its skin was slightly translucent, as if it had not fully developed.

"It...worked," she muttered.

Curt's face warped as tears began to well in his eyes. He sobbed like a child. The tears seemed to spread to Martha, who took several steps closer to him and steadily reached for his hand.

He said to her beneath his uncontrollable cries, "I wasn't sure if it was going to work, I didn't want you to be here if...if..."

Her fingers trembled almost as much as Curt's did. They touched. For a moment, everything that troubled them seemed to distant. So petty. But only for a moment.

Martha's fingers pressed too deeply into Curt's palm. The skin moved apart like the film that formed above the surface of soup; it peeled downward with almost no pressure applied.

Martha screamed and backpedalled, knocking into a stool behind her.

Meanwhile Curt's eyes were locked on his hand in horror, a patch of its skin half-melted and the flesh beneath saggy and bruised.

Seconds of shock had his lips sealed. After these seconds had passed, Curt's eyes widened and his breathing hastened. With his other shaking hand, he pressed against the mottled meat beneath his skin. It reacted like squashed tomato flesh, oozing outward and dripping down his arm. Beneath this flesh was a layer of sharp, jagged patterns.

"O-Oh my God," Curt gasped. He repeated it. Then repeated it again. Terrified screams followed.

Martha was petrified. The same sags appeared on her husband's face. His screaming only grew louder.

"C-Curt. Curt!" she pleaded, gripping his shoulders.

His voice died out instantly.

Eyes locked on Curt's, Martha spoke to him with an anxious undertone to her voice. "W-We need to go. Now. I-I need to get you some help."

"N-No. All the research...it'll be discredited. The funding will be cut," Curt begged deliriously. "Please...you can't let them take away my life's work..."

Martha was trembling. She couldn't fully comprehend the sight in front of her. Was this selfish, stuttering man truly her husband? With every flap of skin that fell off his flesh, was it revealing a stranger? She gulped back any fear that lingered beneath the surface and, very gently, wrapped her arms around him. She still thought that he needed to go to the hospital...or at the very least call Parker for advice. After all, he had been working on isolating and mapping the reptilian EGR genes under Curt's tuition. He would never allow it though, and despite herself, Martha succumbed to his pleas. "Alright, just let me take you home then."

Curt didn't respond but Martha took that as a sign of his agreement. He looked too tired to argue. Too terrified of his own body to push her away.