A bass chord thrummed in rhythm with the electric purr of Cynthia’s little sports car. From a dusting of snow on the side of the deserted road sprouted an emerald weed. Over the last three months, winter gradually eased, and her new, disjointed life fell back into place. It took numerous sleepless nights imbedded in philosophical novels and an abundance of Aimerch Industries adjustment seminars for her to feel normal again. With the encouragement of her new AIM buddy Leon (a crazy red-head who scaled Aimerch Industries Head Quarters with nothing but his hands, feet, and four suction cups) and his “geek gang,” she stopped shuddering every time she passed through the labs. Instead of glancing at the human-animals surrounding her, she focused on the tips of her shoes and the movement of her lab coat as she walked. A tremor still shook her when her eyes met the blister blue ones of the chimera in Lab C, so now she hardly even glanced at him. She constructed an impenetrable barrier as thick as the chimera’s cage around herself as she immersed into Aimerch Industries. She thought this subconscious shield would block her, distance her from the unsightly experiments, but yesterday all that was shattered.
***
The doors to Lab C retreated with a wheeze. She glanced up from the computer, typing the day’s report. It was nothing exciting, just the normal, insane numbers listed on all the other charts. There was a low growl from the cage in the center of the room. She ignored it.
“Hey, Cynthetic! The bars are waiting! Time to head out!” Leon, tall with a flaming beard and rocker haircut, bellowed into the room like a little kid shouting at his parents on Christmas morning.
“I’m coming, Linoleum. You can hold your horses for five seconds.” Cynthia chuckled.
“Well then, me and my horses will meet you in the hall. Need to finish cleaning up.”
As his head popped out of the room, she muttered, “Pig.” Barhopping was one of Leon and his gang’s favorite activities. Tonight was the first time she would join them in the quest for nerdy—but hot—women. She wasn’t really sure why she agreed to go but why not? Lately she was convinced that next to boring in the dictionary would be a description of her.
The metal stool scooted against the stony floor as she rose. With a click she saved and submitted her report, then stood. A new pair of turquoise boots clacked against the floor as she strode to the door.

“Are you leaving me?” An unknown voice murmured.

Her feet froze in their tracks. Her body swayed from the sudden halt. Her eyes wide, she slowly turned. Gazing down from his perch was the chimera with those blazing eyes. It was an expectant gaze she had trouble meeting.
Her head swiveled around the empty room. The only other living being was the chimera, but everyone said he was mute. All the reports very bluntly stated that, even though he was a triumphant result, he had not developed the ability to speak. She scanned the room again, her body ten degrees colder than the moment before. There was nothing, no other explanation. Her hand went to her forehead, brushing her hair out of the way. It did feel a little warm.
“I must have a fever.” Her eyes scrolled across the vacant stools and laminated charts. “Or I’m going crazy.”
The chimera shook his head gravely back and forth at her hoarse whisper.
Her honey eyes practically popped out of her head. She was shocked they weren’t scurrying across the floor as his whisker twitched with an indignant huff.
Maybe it was drugs.
No one knew what Leon did in his spare time. He very well could have created an airborne hallucinogen and picked her to be the guinea pig. People joked he was an evil mastermind, and working in AIM, it would make sense for him to be a tad crazier than most. Instead of a friendly face, he could be the biggest shmuck on the planet! No, wait, that was ridiculous. He wouldn’t do that to her, would he? With assistance from the counter, she staggered to a stool and sat with a thunk.
The chimera’s tail waved back and forth as he continued to stare.
She pulled in a deep breath and released it nosily through her dry mouth. Her eyes narrowed.
“Was that you?”
He blinked.
“Oh, God, I am going crazy.” Her head fell into her cupped hands. Her pulse throbbed in her temples. The border of her vision prickled black as the floor spun.

“Are you leaving me?”

Her head shot up. All signs of fever, insanity, and doubt instantly cleared. A crooked smile spread across his lips, exposing those huge white canines. As quickly as the smile appeared, it vanished. His head cocked to the side. Utter sincerity and blatant anxiety radiated toward her. He waited for an answer.
“N—no, I’m n—not leaving you.” She stuttered while her finger hurriedly attacked her cuticle, a habit she broke weeks ago.
“Promise?”
“What?” Her brows furrowed. Her mind could hardly comprehend that this creature was talking to her let alone asking her to promise her commitment to him!
“Do you promise?”
“…no.” A ball of cotton materialized in her windpipe, cutting off all words. Something deep in her chest ached, sent a chilling sensation over her like blood oozing from a wound. The last time she made a promise was over ten years ago.  “I can’t promise anything.”
“Why not?” There was such innocence and wisdom and need in those two words, it was astonishing and exceptionally disconcerting.
“I just can’t, ok?!” In a furious instant, she was out of her chair and pacing in a corner. With a gray sleeve, she rubbed her nose and eyes, refusing to face that irritating thing. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, and I’m not willing to risk breaking them.”
There was a long pause heavy with tension like the air just before a storm breaks. Her lab coat swished around her knees as she angled herself toward the cage, so she could watch him leap down from his perch and come over to the glass closest to her. His eyes implored hers.
“I know you wouldn’t break it.” His voice echoed around her, almost comforting her with its deep rhythms. It sounded just as broken as hers.
“How?”
He shrugged, bunching his mane against his shoulders. “After years of watching, you learn who is trustworthy.”
There was something oddly soothing in his honesty. His words were eloquent and smooth like a glass of the finest wine, warming from the inside out. Her body shifted to fully face him, for once not looking away.
“The last promise I made was to my little brother the day he died.” The chimera’s ears and whiskers flattened against his head as his pupils expanded into dark, round orbs. “He asked if everything was going to be ok, and I was stupid enough to say yes.” Her drowning eyes met his. This time she didn’t flinch. “He had leukemia. Poor kid had to go through chemo three times…He was only eight years old.”
Frowning without looking too frightening, the chimera placed his hands against the glass in front of her. A consoling purr whispered in her ears. He bent over, placed his forehead against the barrier right above her head (he was a good eight inches taller than her). She felt like he was not simply looking at her but was exploring the depths of her soul.
Her forehead creased in confusion. Just when she had thought she knew her job, the entire description changed.
“Why are you doing this?”
He paused. His eyes widened immediately, and a tremble quivered down his spine.
“HEY! What are you still doing in here?!” Leon cawed from the opening door. Cynthia jumped back from the cage and dashed to the entrance. Once the last layer disappeared, she was standing next to the giant red-haired man.
“Nothing,” She cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder at the chimera. His body sagged while his light sapphire eyes watched her leave. “Just got a little… distracted.”

***

A band of sunlight gleamed against her car as she pulled into the parking lot. The neon letters of the clock glowed 6:48 AM. With the back of her hand, she stifled a yawn. She visited enough of the geek gang’s bars that it was well into the night by the time she got home, and this morning she headed to work an hour early. She wanted to find out more about the chimera and his hidden abilities, though all she really wanted to do was talk with him.
While attempting to gag down a few cheap beers last night, the entire scenario played in her head, over and over. The more the images flashed before her, the more details floated to the surface. Details she’d hardly even noticed. He was paler than usual, and considering he was a mixed with white lion, that was something of a feat. His usually robust body seemed weaker, thinner. The same agility he had previously was lagging into a constant lethargy. All these signs still equaled those of an Olympic athlete, except the giant green and purple bruises on the inside of his elbows. They were the sort of bruises a person got after being stabbed multiple times to find a vein, or from an extreme number of injections. How had she not noticed these things before?
The glass doors groaned as she heaved them open. Glancing around the room as apparently calm as someone just woken up, she strolled to the elevator. She secretly thanked God (something she rarely did) that she didn’t need an escort anymore.
Everything seemed to slow down while her heart sped up. The descent dragged, the seconds withering away like a slow-motion movie. Her toe tapped impatiently while her fingers picked at her injured cuticle. Instead of being sleepy like before, she felt like she’d just drank twenty Red Bulls. Adrenaline coursed through her. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was so anxious, but there was something about today, about the air in the building and the emptiness of the road. Whatever it was, it had her on edge.

There was a muffled commotion as Cynthia sped through the labs toward Lab C. What would someone be doing so early in the morning? The noise slowly got louder and louder with multiple voices, arguing. Then there was a thunderous roar, howling in fury and pain. Her blood froze in her veins as she skidded to a stop. There was only one creature, one person, who could make a noise like that. She broke into a sprint.
Sliding to a halt in front of the door, she yanked out a group of hairs and shoved them into the verification container. It took three times to scan her palms, always removing her hand for the finger prick before it was done. She was just barely able to stand still long enough for the retinal scanner, the wait suddenly agonizing since she was so close. She had to know what was going on!
With a yawning moan, the doors opened, slowly…slowly…slowly. Once there was enough room for her to fit, she squeezed through the doors. Catching herself before tumbling onto the floor, the lab silenced. The cage was in shambles. The glass barriers were covered in jagged white strokes. So was the floor. Claw marks. The perch was in shards in the corners. Parts of it were darkened and warped, melted. The titanium columns around its entrance were bent and dented with more desperate scratches. Some of the wires dangled free from the wall, the exposed copper hissing. The door stood open, the first time she’d ever seen it that way. At least half a dozen men stood around it. A wisp of steam hovered in the air above one of the men. He was holding the cattle prod. Its tip pulsated with electricity, sparking in the silence.
It was then her eyes rested on the chimera. He was in the center of the circle of men, hunched over on his hands and knees. A horrifying burn started to blister on his side, the flesh sizzling. His nails dug into the floor as saliva dripped from his panting mouth. His blue eyes were wide with pain. His miniscule black pupils smoldered with rage.
She took an involuntary step toward him.
“That’s far enough, Ms. Leto.” Her eyes left the chimera for the source of the powerful, accented voice. She’d heard many stories about the founder and leader of Aimerch Industries, and now she finally got see if they were true. He was a medium height with a slender build and chestnut skin. He had a long nose reminiscent of a vulture. His superficial smile displayed unnaturally white teeth. His black hair was tight with black curls. Only in his mid to late thirties, and already the father of the alleged “cradle of the future.” He was the sort of person who viewed everything in the world as his playthings with dark, bestial eyes.
A shiver dashed down her spine.
“We are just here to run some tests.”
“But it’s Wednesday.” Her eyes fretfully scanned the room for other signs of disorder. “Tests are only run on Tuesdays and—“
“Well, I want to perform some tests today.”
“But—“
He cut her off with a sharp gesture. She fell quiet, shrinking at his vindictive gaze. Flourishing a hand, he gestured toward a clipboard and pen resting on the counter. Her gaze darted toward it, and he nodded sternly.
Shuffling backwards, she glanced between Dr. Aimerch and the chimera, then finally turned to the counter. A dozen eyes examined her take the writing utensils and come stand next to Dr. Aimerch. He smiled grimly.
“Good girl.”
Her eyes flickered between the men in heir pristine lab coats and reflective glasses as they manhandled the chimera, taking measurements and spouting numbers. She hurriedly jotted down everything they said, filling in the proper blanks, crossing her t’s, and dotting her i’s. They treated the chimera like a toy, a ragdoll. Low snarls escaped his curled lips, but he cooperated. Seething, his eyes never left Dr. Aimerch.
“Perfect. After a brief pause, we will come back and administer the bacteria.” The men nodded at Aimerch’s instructions.
“What bacteria?” Her words were barely audible.
“Yersinia pestis,” Aimerch stated bluntly. “The government fears a biological attack, and one of the suspected illnesses it the pneumonic plague. I want to see if a hybrid can withstand it.”
“Pneumonic plague?” Scrolling across her mind were memories from high school. They were doing presentations in Biology, and one group enlightened the class about the bubonic, septicemic, and pneumonic plagues. The images were hazy, but she recalled the words. Pneumonic plague was the worst of the three; it could take only a day for it to surface as the bacteria infected the victim’s blood. He would suffer fever, headache, weakness, and rapidly develop pneumonia. In two to four days, the victim would experience shock and respiratory failure. The last symptom was death.
“But…but he’ll die.”
Aimerch shrugged, “We can always make another.”
Four of the scientists snatched the chimera by the arms and started dragging his limp body back into the cage. He never stopped glaring at Aimerch, his own Dr. Frankenstein.
These scientists were no men. They were barely human. Anyone who could so carelessly create life just to discard it could claim no trace of humanity. They were the monsters, not the chimera. He was an experiment, a poor creature doomed to die in excruciating pain. And they had brainwashed her to think the same. But not anymore. She gazed at him with a new compassion, and all the sorrow from her brother’s death stepped out from the shadows.