The Chickens Have Flown the Coop

Dressed simply in a fairly snug white sleeveless shirt and knee length black spandex shorts, graduate student Julie Preston, long blonde hair with tendrils of bright pink pinned back came bounding down the hall leading from the facility training center toward the lab, headphones in her ears, iPod strapped to a band on her right biceps, bouncing on her feet as she hummed along to the song Somebody Told Me by the Killers. Night shift was usually pretty dull, aside from the one time she caught one of the little felons tugging one out unaware she was looking on.

“You go little fella, work it,” she had encouraged from the other side of the glass the night subject 4 masturbated oblivious to his audience.

Grabbing the access card she wore on a purple nylon lanyard around her neck she bent forward and swiped it across the reader beside the door, grabbing the handle in her free hand. Pushing the door open, she stepped through the portal and bopped into the lab, crossing the floor to her workstation to get the clip board containing the nightly observation report sheet and readouts. Checking the clock on the wall, she grabbed the clipboard and noted the time on the report sheet. Swiveling on her feet, she stopped dead and frowned, seeing a series of reddish stains tracked across the floor from the door to where she stood. Shifting her weight, she lifted her right foot to look at the underside of her size 8 bright green striped Nike cross trainer and finding a nasty red mess of something mashed in amongst the treads of the heel.

“Gross. What on earth did I step in?” she asked, frowning and crinkling her pretty face before slipping the shoe off her foot and following the prints back to the door to a pulpy mass near the opening. Reaching over, she turned on all the overhead lights, filling the room with brightness.

Crouching down, she looked at the lump, recognizing bits of bones and hair in amidst the wreckage of what had once been a tiny human.

“Oh no,” she whispered, brown eyes widening as she snapped her head and looked toward the model in the center of the room. Scurrying over, she put the clip board down on the ceiling over the interview room side of the model and looked inside.

Pulling the buds from her ears, she plucked her cell phone out her clip tucked in the waistband of her shorts and quickly dialed the number of her shift partner Taryn Wilson, another grad student assisting in the project.

“We’ve got a breach in primary containment, I need you in here now,” Julie demanded, putting the phone atop the clipboard and looking at the makeshift rope emerging from the dislodged roof panel. Taking the tiny braid rope in her fingers, she followed it down where she also found the broken corpse of Cornelius Hall lying in a heap on the floor near a heap of discarded orange jumpsuits.

The lab door clicked and Taryn stepped quickly into the room, dressed in a white blouse, dark slacks, chestnut colored hair held back but sweeping across her shoulders, a touch of blush in her cheeks from hurrying.

“Lookout!” cautioned Julie, raising a halting hand and pointing to the greasy stain on the floor that was all that was left of one of the subjects.

“Oh my god!” said Taryn, halting in her tracks, soft blue eyes round as she looked down at the mess and then the lessening shoe tread marks moving away from the carcass before stepping over the carnage to join Julie by the model. “How many?”

“All of them. They’re all gone, but I’ve got another dead one down here,” Julie said, taking the limp form of Cornelius by his right foot between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand and lifting him as she stood up, his body hanging lifelessly.

“I’ll call her,” Taryn said, punching in the quick call code and bringing the device up to her left ear, eyes darting from the now vacant model to areas around the edge of the room near the floor.

Dropping Cornelius’s body on top of the model, Julie moved quickly back to the door and opened it, frowning and shaking her head, eyes narrowed as she surveyed the hallway for evidence of any of the others escapees.

Tucking her phone away, Taryn joined Julie at the door, “She’s on her way,” answered the brunette, tone ominous.

“Did she sound pissed?” asked the blonde, making a frowny face.

Taryn shook her head, “She said to contain areas A through C and sit put. She would be here shortly. I couldn’t tell if she was upset or not though,” she answered, shrugging her shoulder. Dagmara could be a very hard woman and it was never a good thing to find yourself on her bad side, ever.

Julie nodded, “I didn’t see anything in the hall, I don’t know if they’re together or if they scattered,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“I take it you didn’t feel it when you stepped on him?” Taryn asked, crouching down, scrunching up her attractive face, eyes on the splatter smeared on the floor.

Julie shook her head glumly, “I was just coming from the gym to do my rounds and I didn’t see him there,” she explained. “Everything was fine during my last go through and I had no idea any of them were out. I don’t even know how they were able to get around security and find a way out. ”

Taryn nodded, “Do you know which one it is?” she asked, leaning forward slightly to get a better look.

Again Julie shook her head, pony tail swishing. “I really can’t tell, though I’m pretty sure it’s not subject 8,” she offered, referring to the black man, Marcellus.

“I guess Dr. Wolcott will have to figure it out,” Taryn said, raising her eyebrows and straightening up and looking at the other girl.