James knocked on the glass door before him testily. “Hello?” he called. He heard his voice echo into the room. “Anybody here?”
No answer.
His heart made several thumps. The place was deserted. Did that mean everyone had been killed? Surely the Liver wouldn’t be this empty on any day. But then, where were the killers, if that was the case?
He tried the door. It was locked. Today was not a good door day for him. But luckily, this door was glass. He pounded the butt of his gun sharply against the glass. Once. Twice.
On the third time, the glass shattered and collapsed into smithereens on the bottom frame.
Looking left and right, he stepped over the pieces and entered.
The place was dark. Too dark despite the sun. He felt along the walls for the light switch, and almost passed over it when his fingers felt a lump in the wall. He flicked it on, and the light shot into his eyes and blinded him for a few seconds.
When he had regained complete sight, he realized he was in a long corridor that stretched forth and lost itself in a patch of darkness some yards away. On either side of the corridor were rooms- glass rooms. In each of the rooms he saw some scientific equipment, long tall tables with Bunsen burners fixed to them, rows of macro computers set at the side.
Millions of vials and bottles and tubes were arranged on shelves neatly with labels taped or glues to them with words James was too far to read.
He walked in the alley, his gun held at the ready. But the place seemed quiet, like no one had been here. But the dead Guardian outside had suggested otherwise.
Sooner or later, he was going to meet something.
He reached a door, peeped through the window and stopped dead. Inside the room, he saw the green murky frothy liquid he had seen when he was fighting with Zichorophenax back at the Kidney.
He wanted to know what that thing was. The Transformat didn’t like it. Already, it had started to burn warmly- a feeling James was always startled by- it was as if it was warning him of something. Telling him he was in the wrong place. Almost like a second conscience.
James decided he could take a few minutes to figure out what the thing was. He charged at the door, and almost fell inside the room. The door had been unlocked, and he hadn’t expected it.
He straightened himself and walked slowly towards the nearest shelf of the green liquid. The Transformat increased the heat on his wrist gradually. What was wrong with it? Was it broken?
His fingers were seconds away from one of the phials, and then the Transformat consumed him in a fury of heat.
The pressure on his hand could have fried a pound of iron. And yet, he was somehow surviving it. The pain shot into his head, and suddenly darkness engulfed him.
It was like he was stuck in the blind dark abyss of death, searing red and blue spots whizzed across his vision. His head pounded. It was like having a wild, terrible case of migraine. Before long, he found himself screaming.
James screamed until his throat as raw and sore. He couldn’t see anything, but the sudden cold that pressed on his knee told him he was in a kneeling position. What was happening? James’ whole body shivered, ached, burnt inside.
A vision played on his mind. He saw a man, bleeding and disoriented. He was on his back on the ground, it was night. Something about the man seemed to strike James as familiar. Then the man leaned to him with a shaky hand, tried to touch him, then everything was back into place.
James’s nightmare was suddenly over. He looked up. He was out of the room; somehow, he had managed to get out of the room. He again remembered again that cells could control the human when they needed to. That must’ve been a perfect clue for them to act. But he somehow knew that wasn’t the case.
The Transformat had controlled him, he knew it- he didn’t know how. He looked up into the room again. The green liquid was sitting innocently on the shelf. It had done something to him. The Transformat didn’t like the thing. It didn’t like it. James was referring to the Transformat like it had a mind of its own. Like it was a dog or something.
He stood up. He wasn’t hurt or tired or anything- amazingly- he was just a bit sweaty and shaken, the whole bizarreness of the whole thing eating into him.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Thinking about some mysterious connection between the Transformat and the liquid and even himself was going to lead him nowhere. He had to keep his head clear and ready.
Germs must be here in this building and he needed to find them and figure out what they were up to. He was suddenly angry with himself. He had wasted so much time already, whilst Nemo’s life was in danger.
Still, the Transformat had some secrets to unlock...
He reached an L corridor. One path led to his right and the other led straight ahead. He looked at his right. There was a wide metallic door situated there. It looked like a place Germs might do horrible stuff.
On the corridor that led straight, a sign on the wall said: