Dr. Stanley Reeves's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

Stanley stared at the empty rack where samples should have been. He'd used the last viable tissue yesterday on a failed splice. Now he needed fresh material—living cells that could teach his body new tricks. His mercury eyes scanned the laboratory for alternatives. The refrigeration units hummed, but their contents were already extracted or dead. He pulled open drawer after drawer, finding only preserved specimens floating in jars. His fingers drummed against the metal counter. Without new genetic material, his work would stall. He walked to his darling's cage and watched her breathe, scales rising and falling with each breath. Not yet, he reminded himself. She was still too valuable to harvest. He turned back to his equipment and began sterilizing collection tools. Tomorrow he would venture out himself. Tomorrow he would find what he needed to continue. Morning arrived and Stanley packed collection vials into a waterproof case. He pulled on thick boots and gloves, then stopped at the sealed exit. A vinyl curtain hung beside the door, marking the shower booth he'd installed months ago. Stone floor, drainage grates, everything designed to scrub contamination off before re-entry. Smart planning pays tuition, he thought. Outside air could carry spores, bacteria, anything that might ruin his experiments. He pushed through the heavy door and stepped into humid air. Trees rose around him, their roots tangled in dark water. He waded forward, scanning the murky surface for movement. A frog called from somewhere nearby. Stanley smiled and followed the sound. When he returned, he would strip down in that shower booth and wash every surface twice. The samples would stay sealed until they reached the specimen chamber. His darling would have company soon, and his work would continue exactly as planned. Three hours later, Stanley returned with seven vials of living specimens. He stripped at the entrance and stepped under the cold water, scrubbing methodically. The shower booth drained the contaminated water away from his laboratory's threshold. He washed his collection case twice, then his boots, then every inch of exposed skin. Only when the water ran clear did he step through the vinyl curtain and towel off. Inside, he placed the vials into the specimen chamber and watched the creatures move. A salamander with mottled skin. Two frogs with bright orange markings. Small fish that had survived in stagnant pools. Each one carried genetic instructions for survival in hostile conditions. Stanley pulled his lab coat on and prepared the extraction equipment. The apocalypse was coming, but he was learning. Each sample brought him closer to the modifications his body needed. Each creature paid its tuition so he could outlast the end. The generator rumbled beneath the concrete floor, its metal pipes reaching deep into the earth below. Stanley felt the vibration through his boots as he worked. Power from the geothermal system kept every piece of equipment running without depending on anything outside these walls. The bunker had been the right choice—thick concrete, heavy steel doors, moss already covering the stone foundations like it had always been here. Nobody would find this place. He extracted cellular material from the first frog and loaded it into the sequencer. The machine powered on without a flicker. His mercury eyes tracked the data streaming across the screen. Adaptation markers. Toxin resistance. Cellular regeneration rates higher than baseline human tissue. He pressed his palm against the cool metal of the bunker wall and smiled. Everything he needed was right here. The samples. The power. The isolation. He was building himself into something that would survive when everything else burned away.