Free Trouble Bruin by Rebekah Blue Page B

More to the point, though, they also had the standard, old-fashioned soap-and-water type of shower. Sometimes there were harmless chemical spills in the labs, or tomato soup spills in the cafeteria, and when the lab rats had been working for thirty-six hours straight, things started to get a bit whiffy anyway.
    She stripped off her clothes and stepped gratefully under the warm spray, lathering herself all over. Even the cheap, unscented, bulk-purchased soap supplied felt like decadent pampering. As she rinsed away the grime and the aching knots in her muscles, her mind drifted to Art. To the way he’d touched her. The way he’d gazed up at her, eyes clouded with lust as she’d straddled him. How he’d driven inside her, filling her, his strong body burnished by the firelight, his mouth moving on hers, his kiss like a drug.
    A shiver of lust ran over her skin, followed by a wash of guilt as she thought of him crawling painfully through the dust.
    Hold on, Art. Hold on.
    When she emerged from the shower, she saw that someone had taken away her clothes – presumably for a much-needed laundering, or possibly a much-needed burning. In their place, they had left a white jumpsuit of the kind the lab rats wore as well as, thoughtfully, some plain white cotton underwear.
    She dressed quickly, relishing the feel of clean clothes against her skin, and opened the shower room door to find Gary waiting for her.
    “You look better,” he told her.
    “You mean I smell better,” she replied.
    “I’m sure you smelled fine.” Gary’s face remained completely expressionless.
    Charlie snorted. “Horse manure,” she said.
    “Oh, that’s what it was.”
    Charlie looked at him in complete astonishment. “Gary, you have a sense of humor!” she exclaimed.
    “That’s classified information, ma’am,” he deadpanned, leading her in the direction of Professor Stanhope’s lab.

Chapter Fourteen
     
    The lab was a bustle of activity, with lab rats scurrying to and fro, squeaking with excitement as if they’d just learned how to solve a maze. Professor Stanhope was deep in conversation with one of the techs – Jeremy? Gerald? When he spotted Charlie, he beckoned her over, and she joined the huddle.
    “Perhaps you’ll have some input on this,” he said to Charlie. He never addressed any of the scientists by name. Charlie wondered if he saw them as interchangeable. He was a polymath, brilliant in every discipline, and just assumed everyone else was too. Once she’d been doing a run for sandwiches for the lab rats and the mention of chicken salad had got her embroiled in a half-hour-long conversation on avian DNA sequencing. After that, she’d decided on the tuna fish.
    “The Starweed serum is achieving permanent genetic alterations in the areas indicated by the resequencing,” he explained, and he actually bunched up his hands into small fists and shook them in triumph.
    Then he frowned. “Unfortunately, there’s a thirty-five percent wastage rate. Our friend here thinks he might have solved the problem. Why don’t you let him run you through the formula changes while I check whether the ward sister’s ready for us?”
    “The ward sister?” Charlie asked, but Professor Stanhope was already striding away. She turned to Jamie. Or Julian. “Please don’t run me through the formula. I won’t understand a word of it. In fact I barely understood a word of that. The Starweed serum’s working?”
    Jiminy nodded. “Don’t worry – it’d take ages to explain all the chemistry, and I’m about to knock off for the day. Basically, we’ve achieved permanent increases in strength, stamina and healing ability. Single dose – no need for boosters or top-ups or repeat treatments. It’s a really exciting breakthrough.”
    “And the wastage?”
    “That’s the problem we’re working on now. In just over a third of test subjects, the changes are accompanied by massive increases in aggression, violence, hallucinations, bleeding on