"You need a tissue sample? How exactly do you think we're supposed to get that?" Chris tried not to sound as furious as he was, but the whole situation was taking its toll on him.
Tonight had been the first night he had slept in the apartment instead of the research facility and for once he hadn't woken up feeling like crap. Getting a call from the honorable Mrs. Winters right after waking up soured his mood a little bit. He had to remind himself that she braved her own problems at the moment: living as a single mother and not knowing if her husband ever returned.
"I sent you a package with neurotoxins, it should arrive today. It's not potent enough to cause lasting damage, but it should knock him out for a while. Though after what Charlie told me, I doubt that your team will go the easy way. Thank you in advance, I know I ask a lot of you."
"You sure do", he grumbled. "I gotta go, stay safe."
"You, too."
By the time the two vehicles arrived at the facility, Charlie had already accepted the package and enthusiastically studied the content. Thankfully, Mia had used a standard caliber for the rounds so they didn't need the blowgun.
The prospect of tranquilizing Ethan to get a tissue sample was met with some kind of righteous fury.
"She can't be serious", Emily complained. "This woman does not know what she's doing and will endanger us all. Who would be crazy enough to get close to that thing?"
John frowned at her, their old argument was still not completely resolved.
"I'll go in", Charlie volunteered. "He's pretty tame at the moment and I know how to use the device she sent."
"Not alone", Chris interjected. "We'll get this done together."
"Ah, shit. Alright, count me in, too", Dion conceded.
"The usual suspects", Rolando grinned. "Suits me. You guys have fun."
Chris suspected that for the two fellow older soldiers this was a vacation. Occasionally they had to take a shift watching, but since they weren't otherwise involved, they spent a lot of their time on personal projects and phone calls. Mia didn't mind paying for their time off, so Chris had no reason to complain.
"This is dumb, even for you", Dion scoffed, but helped unlock the cell, nonetheless.
"Gee, thanks. You sure you don't want to wait outside?" Charlie said.
"And watch you get torn apart because we can't shoot without hitting you? Not a chance."
"I don't think he will cause a problem. He's actually a really nice lad. For a molded, I mean."
"Says the guy who wanted to keep a pet mutant alligator."
"Stop bickering and focus. No accidents, no injuries, this should go smoothly", Chris ordered. "Everyone in position?"
Charlie and Dion checked their protective gear again, everything was in order.
"Ready, sir."
They stepped into the first part of the cell and Emily closed the door behind them remotely.
"Unlock the second area", he ordered.
As she flipped the switch, the door slid to the side and vanished into the wall. Ethan rose from the spot on the floor where he had rested, the concept of a bed still seemingly lost on him. Not that the metal sheet attached to the glass wall was any more comfortable than the concrete. At least he had accepted the blanket they gave him and even used it more or less like a normal human would. Next to Chris, Charlie nervously shook the bowl of beef cuts.
"Morning, big guy. I brought something tasty, so be nice. Alright?"
Up close and standing straight, Chris realized that the molded was at least 4 inches taller than him. Thanks to the disproportionate body parts, he could easily fit an adult's head in his mouth. Dion walked slowly to the left, gun aimed at the swaying monster.
"Here", Charlie tossed a piece at Ethan who caught it between his teeth. "Tasty, isn't it?"
Chris stepped to the right to get a better line of sight. A quiet trill came from Ethan, his usual response to food he seemed to like.
"I'll place the bowl on the floor and try to get to his left leg", Charlie said. "That looks less… armored than his arms."
Ethan was sufficiently occupied with his breakfast - spiked with his meds as per usual - and the young man put the device onto the grey skin at the ventral side of his thigh. It made a little sharp clicking noise and he sighed with relief. Part one, done. Now to get out of here without anyone getting hurt.
Ethan raised his head from the empty bowl, tilting it slightly as if he was regarding the other two men aiming weapons at him. Several small eyes bubbled up around his mouth and he growled at them.
"It's okay, Ethan. We'll leave", Charlie said soothingly. "Stay where you are and we'll go away."
The molded puffed his chest and the spikes on his shoulders and the sides of his legs became more prominent; white tips looked exceedingly sharp.
"Retreat", Chris ordered.
Maybe it was his voice or Ethan had just now seen him, but as soon as he noticed the captain, his low growl became a vicious hissing and snarling. The other two men seemed forgotten as he lunged forward, arms spread and claws extended at Chris. A single thought reared its ugly head: They will all die. You can't save them. Without even thinking, he shot him straight in the chest. The molded plummeted backwards and hit the ground with a gross thud.
"Move", he commanded.
Only after both doors were safely locked behind them, the others dared to say anything.
"That went surprisingly well", Dion commented. "But holy shit, I think he really hates you, Chris."
Charlie made sure to give the imprisoned molded another bowl of his favorite cuts in the evening before leaving. The effect of the toxin had lasted for roughly two and a half hours, but he wandered around just fine after that time. Though he seemed to sulk a bit, Charlie's apology with words and food offerings was accepted.
When the lights turned on in the hall a few days after their mission to get a sample, Ethan didn't stir in his position on the floor. Neither did he react to Charlie calling out to him.
"Hey, big guy, everything alright?" Charlie asked with a concerned frown.
The molded made a little whining noise and rocked in place, back and forth, slowly and rhythmically. Every now and then, bubbling sobs punctured the silence. The creature looked miserable with its spiked shoulders drooping and it's skin a dull grey. The blanket around Ethan's midsection was torn and tangled around the hard skin protrusions. This certainly wasn't good, something must have happened in the night that had caused this significant difference in behavior. Charlie decided to call Chris and get the team here, they needed to know about this change.
"Yeah, this is definitely a 'situation', but what are we looking at?", John wondered.
Ethan had stopped sobbing, but still looked like misery incarnate. The spikes on the skin were shifting, changing positions and shapes in irregular intervals.
"He hasn't eaten yesterday's food and refused to even look at today's. It can't be a side effect of the tranquilizer, I think."
"That was days ago and he had no problems that night", John recounted his watch.
"Is it just me or does anyone else think he looks sad?" Emily ventured a guess.
"I mean, it did sound like crying… but sad?" Charlie contemplated. "That would imply he's getting more conscious of himself and his surroundings, right?"
She studied the mess inside the cell closely and Ethan seemed to shrink back into himself under the many gazes directed at him.
"If I was in this situation and only started to understand what's going on, I'd be in low spirits, too", she said.
"So, we wait?" Dion asked.
"Not much else we can do at the moment", Chris ended the discussion.
Everyone had just gotten back to their usual tasks and projects when Ethan moved again. Chris and Charlie looked up from the laptop they had propped open nearby and watched him walk up to the glass panel he had faced while on the ground. An extended arm helped him stop before he walked into it, standing only a few inches near it.
"Is he trying to get out?" Charlie wondered and got up from the chair. Chris followed suit and reached for his gun. This was becoming more and more like herding kittens.
Ethan leaned slowly backwards, the back of his hand still touching the glass as if to estimate the distance. With a sudden movement, he nodded his head, crashing into the structure. For a second, he paused before replicating the same move. The molded hit his head repeatedly against the wall, each time harder than the last. The sound it produced was a sickening splash as the slimy grey substance touched the glass. Chris feared that either the skull or the wall might start to crack under the pressure, but after a particularly heavy blow he reared back, shaking himself violently and roaring. It was difficult to tell what Ethan's goal had been, but the frustration was palpable. If there had been a plan to look for weak spots, he lacked the mental capacity to execute that properly.
"Is he trying to break the glass?" Charlie asked.
"If he is, it's the dumbest way I've ever seen."
The spiked shoulder crashed into the glass again, not even bending the sturdy panel but making a horrible scratching sound. A finger tore at some skin at his neck, leaving a deep wound along the side.
Both men outside watched in horror as he thrashed about wildly, clawing at his back. One hand's talons caught the spikes on his shoulders, scratching them off with a gut-wrenching tearing sound. The flesh underneath had a light grey shimmer and sizzled as it came into contact with air. Some kind of scream or sigh escaped Ethan's maw and he repeated the motion with the other hand. Open gashes on his flanks still oozed black liquid.
"What the hell…", Chris cursed. "Ethan, stop! For fuck's sake... Stop!"
Charlie was already loading the guns with the tranquilizers. If this continued any longer, the molded could do some lasting damage to the recovering mycelium. The back seemed well protected, but if he started gutting himself, he would tear out the core of the root sooner or later.
As they approached the cell, he turned and snarled viciously; his wounded shoulders heaved with labored breaths.
"Alright, big guy, this is for your own protection", Charlie muttered as he flipped the switch to open the inner door of the hatch. With a click, it unlocked and started moving slowly.
Ethan brought his left clawed hand up to his face, regarding it with the amber colored eye in his mouth. It seemed he had come to a conclusion: with a nauseating crunch, he bit down on it, severing the appendage from his arm at the wrist. The hand dropped from his crooked teeth as he continued to shred his own flesh off his lower arm and ripped chunks out of it.
"It's not an escape attempt", Chris shouted over the sickening noises of tearing skin and snapping jaws. The inner door was finally open and Charlie handed him the loaded gun. He took aim as Ethan was about to bite off the other hand.
The impact of the bullet stopped him in his movement and the released toxin acted as quickly as it had the first time they had used it. Ethan crashed to the ground, immobilized as his nerves were targeted, where he lay in the midst of the carnage while the shredded tissue slowly turned into crystals. Chris and Charlie unlocked the cell door and walked in, weapons still trained on Ethan in case he had just pretended to be affected. Regarded up close, the damage he had caused with his teeth looked even worse; most of his left arm was gone and he seemed to have bitten off his right thumb and index finger during the fall. Charlie collected the severed hand and a few pieces and stuffed them in a plastic bag that he sealed as airtight as he could.
"What the hell was that?", he asked, his voice shaking.
"No idea. Auto-aggression is not a common symptom of a mold infection", Chris mumbled.
He prodded Ethan's back with the tip of his shoe to get a reaction, but he seemed to really be out cold. As soon as they deemed it safe, they hoisted him up onto the bed. Around them, all torn flesh was turning into crystal dust and then dissipating in the air. The filters sucked the dust away and left nothing.
"Let's give him today's dose, while we're at it. God knows how long he'll be asleep this time and if he'll eat afterwards", Chris suggested defeatedly.
"Right. I'll fetch the meds", Charlie replied and added quietly: "I wish he could just tell us what's wrong."
Chris leaned against the wall and wiped his hand over his face. He wholeheartedly agreed with that wish. Caring for the infected was like walking through a strange room in pitch black darkness; every time they thought they made progress, they ran into the next unforeseen obstacle. The report to Mia would have to wait until Ethan was conscious again, maybe his mood or whatever had caused this would have improved by then. Emily volunteered to watch over Ethan for the rest of the afternoon, so the two men could get some rest. The night would be covered by Rolando.
They didn't have much to report the next morning: Ethan hadn't moved at all, but thankfully the missing limbs had regrown over the night. Judging by the slight twitching, the toxin had worn off and this seemed rather like his decision to stay where he was.
"Back to shooting him with darts. God, I hate this", Charlie commented when they discussed the options for the next drug administration.
Nobody really paid much attention to the molded that day. The most movement they got out of him was swatting away the empty dart and turning away from them. Life went on, somehow, outside the little glass cage and only Chris' mind seemed still stuck in there with Ethan, trying to figure out what had prompted this self-destructive incident. At the end of the day, he left with the others, mostly to get a fresh supply of cigarettes. This had cost him a whole package without him even realizing it.
It took two days to get Ethan out of his slump and back to aggressively snarling at anybody that approached his cell. Charlie was especially devastated by this regress, as he was treated to the same displays of threat and the molded still refused to touch any food he was offered. On several occasions, they had found him biting bits out of his arms again, though that did not seem prompted by hunger. He had let the chunks just drop to the floor like during the first incident. Therefore, Chris' report to Mia was bleak.
"He's highly aggressive to the point that he doesn't care whether he hurts himself by attacking the walls. I'm getting exasperated, Mia", Chris finished his ranting report. He was on the brink of admitting defeat and asking her to help them put him down.
"You're doing great", the gentle voice on the line reassured him. "I actually think this counts as progress: He's back out of his lethargic state as you described. It'll be alright, I'm sure. I'll send you a fresh batch of meds."
"Mia, do you know what you're doing with all this? If there is anything we should know about…"
"Chris, this is an experimental treatment. I've done tests for over two years, but I can't foresee everything. I just put my trust in Ethan's resilience and luck. He'll be okay."