Looking down at the child in his arms,
Dr. Halverson saw him begin to stir. The boy’s eyes opened, and
he yawned hugely.
"Ohhh," the boy moaned softly as he
stretched. "I guess I fell asleep."
"Yes, I suppose you did," Commander Gyou
said.
"Mr. Gyou? What are we doing here?" the
boy was obviously confused, but he didn’t seem to be as fearful
or apprehensive as Halverson would have expected.
The only answer that Commander Gyou gave
was that same, unnerving smile. Turning, Gyou left without
saying anything else to either Halverson or the boy. Halverson
was confused, but obviously not as confused as the boy himself
was. He called to the Commander twice more, before turning his
attention to Halverson himself.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I’m Dr. Edmund Halverson. I guess I’ll
be taking care of you now," Halverson said, mainly to put the
boy at ease. In Halverson’s experience it was much easier to
deal with young children when they were calm. And this boy was
obviously only six or seven years old. Carrying him deeper into
the processing lab, Halverson spotted two of his colleagues and
waved them over.
"Hey, Ed. Who’s the kid?" Dr. Sanderson
asked.
"I’m not too sure about that, myself,"
Dr. Halverson said, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially to
the other two. "But the Commander wants him processed into a
Zoalord."
"A Zoalord?
Are you sure you heard that right?" Dr. Henderson asked.
"Yes, I’m sure," Dr. Halverson said,
glancing back down at the boy. "After all, it’s pretty hard to
mistake that word for any other one."
"Yeah, I guess it would be," Dr.
Sanderson admitted.
"What are you guys all talking about? I
can’t hear," the boy said, sounding more than a little put out.
"Nothing important," Dr. Halverson lied.
Then, turning back to his two colleagues, Halverson leaned over
to whisper conspiratorially to them again. "Let’s get him to the
processing-tanks quickly, before he starts asking all kinds of
questions."
They nodded, and all three of them
hurried over to one of the few empty processing-tanks in their
part of the lab. This tank had not even been filled with
processing fluid in preparation for making another Zoanoid. A
room just like this one was where Fumio Fukamachi had been
transformed into the first of the Enzyme model II Zoanoids. But
the young boy who was currently in Dr. Halverson’s arms would
have had no way of knowing this fact.
Looking back down at the child, Dr.
Halverson thought that he was being unexpectedly docile for
someone his age, as if he was used to being carried around like
some kind of luggage. It was odd, but Halverson wasn’t going to
complain about it. His mind was more deeply engaged in the
problem that the boy’s age had presented to him.
There was simply no way that
anyone of his age would be able to survive for more than
half-an-hour as a Zoalord. Even then, that estimate was being
very generous. There are ways
to counteract that, though,
Dr. Halverson mused. I just
have to figure out what they might be. Typical of Commander Gyou
to give me a job and then not tell me what I need to do to get
it done.
But such thoughts were considered
treasonous by Commander Gyou, and Halverson only hoped that the
Commander wouldn’t somehow develop the ability to read the minds
of humans as well as Zoanoids. But that wasn’t Halverson’s
problem now, all he needed to do was to find a way to do the job
that he had just been given. As his agile mind went to work on
the problem at hand, Halverson came upon a solution.
If the boy’s body at its currant state
of physical development would be unable to withstand the stress
of becoming a Zoalord, then it would be a simple matter to
change that. With Chronos’ processing technology, and his
extensive knowledge of human physiology, it would be very easy
for Halverson to force the boy’s body to physically age to the
point where he would be able to survive the transformation.
However, the first order of business was
to make absolutely sure that the boy would not be able to resist
when he finally realized that something untoward was going to
happen to him.
"Dr. Henderson, could you please hand me
one of those syringes?" Dr. Halverson asked.
"Of course."
The
tray-full of filled syringes, used for subduing those humans who
were due to be processed into Sleeper Units, sat on a counter on
the far left-hand side of the lab. Much easier for Dr. Henderson
to reach than Dr. Halverson. In short order, Dr. Henderson had
left and returned with the requested syringe. Slapping a hand
over the boy’s mouth so he couldn’t protest or call for help,
Dr. Halverson watched as his fellow scientist stuck the needle
into the boy’s neck.
The boy slowly went limp as most of his
nerves were deadened by the drug, but Dr. Halverson could see
the slowly building fear in his eyes. He had never processed a
kid before, and Chronos had never expressed an interest in
anyone this young before. It was kind of hard for Halverson to
put aside his own personal feelings and do the job he had been
assigned, what with the kid’s fear-filled eyes staring up at
him.
"We have to get rid of these clothes,"
Dr. Halverson said, making a concerted effort to distance
himself from what was happening.
"Right," Dr. Henderson said, tugging at
the boy’s light blue shirt.
The kid was deep enough under the
effects of the drug that he had gone completely limp, and when
Halverson let go of his lower body, the kid’s legs fell backward
like a pair of lifeless tubes. They bumped against Halverson’s
abdomen in what felt like a weak kick, and Halverson felt like
he deserved that much. At least he couldn’t see the kid’s eyes
anymore, since his head was now pointed at the ground.
"Just think of it as undressing a rag
doll," Dr. Henderson said helpfully, working the kid’s shirt
off.
"Right."
xXxXx
Masaki made his way through the forest,
leading a group of all the people who had decided to come along
on this excursion. That had turned out not to be very many
people at all, just Sho, Tetsuro, Mizuki and himself. Makashima
hadn’t cared one way or the other, but Shizu and the old man had
been somewhat enthusiastic.
It was a strange thing to consider, the
fact that people might actually want to help him, but Masaki had
dealt with strange things before.
"So Mr. Murakami, when are we going to
get to meet your son?" Tetsuro asked.
"Kenji’s tent is just thirteen more feet
in that direction," Masaki said, pointing forward and to the
right a bit.
"I can’t wait to meet him," Mizuki said
happily. "I bet he’s so cute."
"He is," Masaki said, smiling. "I used
to have lots of pictures of him, but they got lost in the fire."
Masaki looked downcast for a moment, then brightened up as he
remembered something. "I still have one left, though."
Pulling the aforementioned photograph
out of his pocket, Masaki handed it over to Mizuki.
"Aww," she cooed. "He’s adorable. But
who’s that man standing behind you, Mr. Murakami?"
Masaki took the picture back from Mizuki
and studied it for a minute. There he was, sitting on the couch,
with Kenji in his lap waving at the camera. Gray was standing
behind him, giving him bunny ears. Masaki chuckled a bit sadly,
remembering.
"His name was David Grayson, though he
really preferred to be called ‘Gray’. He was a friend of mine."
Mizuki took the picture back when Masaki
handed it to her. "Oh. What happened to him?"
"Chronos got to him," Masaki said
flatly.
Sho, walking behind Murakami and
Mizuki, shook his head sadly. Another life had been ruined by
Chronos; another person turned into a Zoanoid against their
will. Just like my father,
he thought. It wasn’t something Sho liked to think about, but he
knew now that even a Guyver couldn’t be everywhere at once.
Besides, that had had probably happened long before Sho had even
discovered the Guyver.
Sho sighed, and continued to follow
behind Murakami and Mizuki.
Masaki, now that he was moving in that
direction, had become very eager to see his son again. He was
really looking forward to seeing the look on Kenji’s face when
all these new people showed up. It might be a little hard for
Kenji to get used to living with other people after being alone
for so long. But Kenji was as adaptable as Masaki himself, and
he was still young enough that the change wouldn’t take too much
time to adjust to.
As he made his way through the forest,
for some reason Masaki was unable to shake the feeling that
something was wrong. It was probably just the two trips he had
made to see Kenji already, since this would be the third time
this month he would be paying his son a visit. Yes, it was
probably just the break in his routine that was making him
uneasy. Still, Masaki knew that the sooner he could get Kenji
safely to the cabin where they were staying, the better he would
feel.
It was only when he kicked something
that Masaki looked down, knowing this path well enough to know
that there weren’t any rocks in this path for him to kick.
Looking down, Masaki saw that what he had kicked hadn’t been a
rock at all. Bending over to pick up the offending object,
Masaki began to feel a slightly unsettling sensation of
premonition.
It was a book. One of the many books
that he had bought for Kenji to read when he was alone in his
tent.
"No…" Masaki said lowly, not wanting to
believe what he was seeing.
Breaking into a run, and ignoring the
calls from Sho and Mizuki, Masaki only stopped when he stood
again on the spot where he had set up the tent that had hidden
his son.
"No. No. No…"
The tent was still there, pieces of it
at least. The shredded canvas was scattered over the forest
floor like some mockery of fallen leaves, or else a monument to
his failure. Masaki could now see all of the books that he had
bought for Kenji over the years, now torn apart and scattered
along with the remains of his son’s tent. Wading into the pile
of debris, Masaki began to look for his son’s body.
No matter how heartless it might have
seemed to another person, Masaki was hoping that he would find
his son’s corpse among the wreckage of the tent and the books.
As far as Masaki was concerned, it was better to be dead than to
be captured by Chronos. Looking for any trace of blood proved to
be a fruitless search, but Masaki did manage to find the old
stuffed toy that Kenji loved to carry around with him.
It was old and worn threadbare in
places, but anyone could still tell that it was meant to be a
tiger. Kenji had named the toy Kaji, and he would take it
anywhere and everywhere that Masaki would let him. Picking up
the toy, Masaki tucked it under his left arm. It would be
something to remember his son by, something to remind him of yet
another thing that Chronos had taken from him.
"Mr. Murakami! Mr. Murakami!"
Masaki heard Sho calling him, but he
ignored the boy in favor of searching through the wreckage of
the tent.
"Oh my god!"
When Masaki heard Mizuki shout, he
looked up. Mizuki, Sho and Tetsuro were all staring in horror at
the wreckage where he stood. Nodding curtly to them, Masaki
turned back to the rubble and continued his search.
"What could’ve happened here?" Mizuki
asked, staring in horrified fascination at the devastation
surrounding her.
"I’ll tell you what happened here,"
Tetsuro said, anger at the Chronos Corporation making his voice
rough. "Chronos must have found out about this place somehow,
and sent some Zoanoids to destroy it."
"That’s just what I was going to say,"
Masaki put in, looking up.
"What are you looking for, Mr.
Murakami?" Sho asked.
"Kenji’s body," Masaki said flatly. "I’m
going to bury it when we get back to the cabin. Then I’m going
to find the bastards that did this to my son and kill them."
"I’ll help," Sho said, stepping forward.
"Thanks," Masaki nodded.