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A dose. I needed one, more than ever. Needed to take the edge off, enough to let me function and get through all this crap.
I scurried to the bathroom down the hall and locked the door, put the toilet lid down and sat. I had my skimming routine down. Suck ten percent out of each full-strength vial and squirt it into an empty vial. Replace the missing mod with saline. Easy. V12 looked like water, so no one ever noticed the dilution.
Syringe in hand, I hesitated as sick guilt rose. Was Philip’s current state of pre-rot the result of the diluted mod?
No. I’d been skimming for almost four months, and only a little from each vial. He would’ve shown symptoms before now. A wave of relief washed through me. That made sense. Besides, no matter what caused it, Dr. Nikas would fix Philip up with a new formula and he’d be fine again.
But what about me? I wouldn’t make it through school and all the other crap without V12. I lined the three vials up on the edge of the sink and stared at them glumly. Now that Philip wasn’t using it anymore, this was the last of the formula—ever.
So, why do I still need to skim and dilute?
Why indeed. It didn’t matter how much I diluted the vials this time. Ten percent? How ’bout a hundred? Replace all of it with saline. The vials were going to get tossed out anyway, and it’d be a crying shame to let all that pretty V12 go to waste. All I needed was two more empty vials from the drawer by the fridge.
But, first things first.
I sucked a dose into the syringe and injected it under my skin. Worry slipped away like a greased pig on ice, and I let out a pleased sigh. There was no need to get all worked up about a zombie exodus. Anyone who started blabbing about brain-eating zombies would get locked up in the psych ward. Only crazy people believed in real zombies. A laugh bubbled out. Yup, we’re all crazy here!
Okay, now I was ready to take care of the rest of my business. I shoved the vials back into my pocket and dashed back to the treatment room accompanied by a whirl of happy snowflake sparkles. It sucked that the formula would change, but in about two minutes I’d have more V12 in my possession than ever before. Philip used a full vial at a time, but I only needed one cc to do the trick. If I rationed it out carefully, I’d be set for two months at the very least. That would give me plenty of time to test other formulas until I found one that worked as well.
Delighted with the genius of my plan, I fished two empty vials from the drawer and did a happy dance as I dropped them into my pocket.
“Angel.”
My heart nearly exploded as I spun to face Dr. Nikas. The vials clinked in my pocket with the movement. “Uh, hey, Dr. Nikas. How’s things?”
Soft brown eyes regarded me from his ancient, unwrinkled face. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”
I put on my best innocent expression and casually sidestepped to stand in front of the fridge. “I figured I’d come in and change Kang’s tank today instead of tomorrow. That way I can go to the Zombie Fest. You know, because Pierce needs me to keep a lookout for anything weird.” The premeditated lie stuck like sawdust in my throat. Dr. Nikas was the kindest person I’d ever met. I shifted to open the fridge, quickly pulled out the bottle of nutrient sludge I needed for Kang’s tank and waggled it. Fireflies crawled over my skin like a mass of ants wearing high heels.
“I shouldn’t have taken—” The confession fought to spill out, but I clamped down on it. Hard. My suppressed impulse control from the V12, trying to bite me in the ass. Sweat dribbled down my sides. “I, uh, shouldn’t have taken advantage of your flexibility without calling first.”
His nostrils flared, and my paranoia imagined his ancient zombie senses picking up my fear, smelling the vials in my pocket, and knowing exactly what I was up to. But to my relief he simply nodded then gestured at the fridge. “We should decrease the temperature to two degrees to accommodate a batch of new samples. It is set on four now, yes?”
“I can take care that.” I fumbled with the number pad of the thermostat. Being sneaky around Allen and my co-workers about stealing brains didn’t bother me since that was a life-or-death issue, and therefore I’d never worried about the lowered impulse control leading me to confess. But lying to Dr. Nikas’s face about the V12 was a whole different matter.
“When was the last time you saw Philip?”
“About ten minutes ago. He said you’re making a new formula for him.” I punched in the new temperature with a shaking hand. “Two degrees Celsius. Done.”
“He’s had a difficult week.”
“He sure looked bad. Poor guy.” I pretended to make another adjustment on the refrigerator. “Do you need blood from me for the new treatment?”
“No. That won’t be necessary. I know what the problem is now and will address it.”
“That’s terrific. Lemme know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“I will. You have a good afternoon.”
“You too, Dr. Nikas.” I listened to him walk out of the room then slumped, relieved to have dodged another bullet. Had I missed the memo about it being Almost-Get-Caught-By-Your-Boss Day? This close shave stuff was going to wear me out.
Maybe I needed to abandon the whole drug heist plan? A millisecond later I squashed that idea. This was the last of the V12. Forever. It would be pure insanity to let this opportunity pass by.
Dr. Nikas’s voice drifted in from the central lab as he spoke to one of his techs. I hurried to the bathroom and made the switch. Three new vials full of V12. Three original vials full of saline. I shuttled the saline-filled vials back to the refrigerator and arranged them on the shelf in perfect alignment. No one would be the wiser.
So why did I feel
like shit? I’d skimmed lots of times before. Or maybe it had nothing to do with a guilty conscience. The side effects of V12 were unpredictable. Every now and then a yucky everything’s-my-fault feeling came on the heels of I-can-handle-anything. I could deal with a measly side effect. Bottom line, I wasn’t hurting anyone. What was there to feel crummy about?
