“This is way too extra,” Ann groaned as she saw Dylan’s clothing. He opted for an all black look.

“You look like a large-sized crow, and don’t take it as a compliment,” Ann continued badmouthing the outfit.

This is alright though, Dylan thought as he stared at the clothing, he didn’t even bring the hat, the boots nor the hiking bag. He actually debated on whether to bring his boots, but they’ll likely backfire. All decent novels had that one scene where the characters hide from the monster. They make some kind of sound. Monster finds them. Game over, if you’re not the protagonist. Half of the times, the characters’ feet was to blame, whether it’s a squeak against polished office floors or a crack of tree twigs beneath their soles. Whatever it was, Dylan wasn’t risking it.

“Dad,” Ann called as Phil joined them at the doorstep, “just look at him. Please tell him to change.”

“Wha- I’m dressed exactly the same as him,” Dylan gestured Phil, who wore dark colors but not all-black, still similar enough though.

“He has father privileges,” Ann bluffed.

“She’s not incorrect,” Phil supplied, clearly wanting to fuel more of the sibling rivalry.

“See?” Ann beamed.

“Now you’re just teaming against me,” Dylan whined, reaching down to check the ties of his shoes for one more time.

“Yeah. Like I’d do something so low. Just get going already,” Ann said as she ushered the father-son out of the house.

“Why won’t you come with us?” Dylan asked, more seriously than his normal demeanor.

“I work best with papers and formulas. Fieldwork is not exactly my strong-suit,” Ann just shrugged.

She paused for a second before looking at Dylan, “Take care alright? Something’s off, it’s not your usual carefree case.”

“He heard you. Now let’s better get going,” Phil said as he dragged Dylan out of the house.

The pair wandered in the night streets of Dranem, hiking up to the forest.

Phil held a copy of the map, routing down their newest location as they went. Dylan carried a lantern, turning his back every so often. The darkness of the night crawled into him, silently. Trees reached out to tickle the back of his neck, sending goosebumps flying over his skin. The crested moon hung above the sky, obscured by clouds and branches.

Its dim light projected paths onto the forest floor. No help whatsoever to Dylan’s nerves, the light only offered to make more darkness visible.

He still hadn’t told Phil about Marina’s file. Phil would probably confront Marina. Dylan just wanted a piece of truth, one where he could determine on his own. Not the one Marina would force-feed, nor the one believed by Jen.

“Think we’re here,” Phil whispered in front of him, signaling Dylan to put out the lantern.

He wondered how would they see. His worries vanished as he took in the infamous “Erukas Lab 12”.

A whole area of the forest was cleared for the building. The stone tiles reflected the paled moonlight, the simple structure of the sole building suited the forest backgrounds, dark and intimidating. It loomed over Dylan even though it is just one floor above ground level. As they reached closer, Dylan realized the hill was dug out, the ground dipping in where the building was, reaching at least three floors deeper into the ground.

They went closer, wooden spikes facing outwards, blocking their paths. Beyond the spikes, an empty strip of field awaited them. Dylan imagined it circled the whole building.

“There’s no one outside. We could go in right now!” He turned to Phil before grabbing at the spikes, attempting to hoist himself up.

Phil’s eyes rang with panic as he pulled Dylan down, “The place is planted with landmines. Don’t.”

“What’s that?” Dylan frowned at the unfamiliar word.

“Bombs buried underground which are triggered when you stepped on them,” Phil pointed out, “Whoever is in charge here doesn’t want people coming in.”

“It’s one of those confidential things,” Phil said absentmindedly, eyes trained on the building.

“How are we supposed to get in then?” Dylan whispered.

“Here, take one,” Phil sighed as he handed Dylan a Pill, “It will hurt the first time, but you’ll be okay.” Phil’s eyes shined alarmingly red as he whispered.

Dylan stared at the Pill. The thing felt unbelievably light in his palms. He bought it to his mouth. The tiny medicine slithered down his throat. Warmth exploded in his stomach. His vision flashed white as a sharp ringing pierced through his ears.

A pained, animalistic whimper came out of him as he realized Phil held a hand over his jaws, restricting any loud sounds coming out.

After what seemed like hours, the senses subdued. He became accustomed of the bright night sky, of hearing crickets and knowing precisely where they’re, of seeing and hearing what he shouldn’t supposed to.

Dylan collapsed on the grass. Not tired but still overwhelmed. He felt the tips of grass brush against his skin, more visceral than he ever experienced. For the first time, he felt in control of his body.

Phil stared at him worryingly. Dylan just flashed a grin, signaling he felt fine.

“Like I said, don’t get addicted,” Phil mumbled, still glancing at Dylan every few seconds.

Dylan ignored his father’s worries, turning his attention to the barren field.

Hundreds of steady electronic beeping echoed through, syncing into one. He fidgeted, the beeping playing in his head like a countdown.

“We’ll spend a lot of time here. What if people came?” Dylan turned to Phil.

“Doubt it. They already had so many landmines. Invisible bombs which aren’t publicly known, which meant they pulled through an effort to fortify this place. Adding staff would only increase the risks rather than decrease them at this point,” Phil explained before he jumped over the spikes, landing at the edge of the minefield with grace.

Dylan followed.

He landed with a small thud, the beeping grew louder as he stood in the field.

His hands fell numbly to his sides. His body suddenly frozen in place as a primal fear flushed through him, swirling sickening patterns. His vision flashed to black momentarily.

His brain thumped as he fixated on the mechanical sounds underground.

In front of him, Phil kept his distances, best way to make sure at least one person can survive if a bomb goes off.

Dylan stared at the ground before taking a tentative step, fighting the urges of his legs to just run.

He took a few jumps before recognizing a pattern. He followed through, danced with the tip of the knife as he familiarized with the rhythms.

The shadow of the building basked him in as he reached a safe zone. The landmines fading and blending with the forest.

The ground surrounding the building dipped in, leaving a narrow passageway between the concrete and dirt.

Dylan followed Phil down the dirt steep. The two of them tumbling into an opening of the building.

Different with the rough, concrete exterior, the building was smoothened on the inside. A green glow illuminated the hall. The polished floor reflected this light in a ghostly manner.

The pair circulated the floor in silence. The locked rooms numbered with “MR 1” ‘til “MR 7”, the same way as they did at the office, decorated with the same types of furniture. Judging from Phil’s frown, he noticed the detail too. If this place was legit, it would just be stupid of them to risk their lives minutes ago.

“Let’s see the other floors,” Phil whispered.

The following floor had the same green glow. Although Meeting Rooms were replaced with surgical labs. A door to one of the labs hung ajar. The pair slipped inside. A few files laid on the table. A blue chair sat silently in the middle of the room. Leather straps attached to the chair. The monitors placed randomly aren’t turned off, as if someone left in a hurry without tidying up. Thin green lines, percentiles and 404s littered the screen.

Dylan lighted their lamp again as Phil opened a random file.

“10.05,” Dylan read the report, keeping his voice at minimum, “What is that?”

Subject in conscious state after taken Pill, no immediate side effects. Acceptable but slightly above average pulse. Subject taken two doses of anesthesia after intake of Pill. Next stage of testing approved.

“Next stage of testing?” Dylan gawked at the words. Beside him, Phil folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. Surely the owners wouldn’t minded if pieces of their research disappeared.

“Let’s keep going,” Phil whispered after they flipped through all the files. All of them documenting the similar tests, some were aborted as “Subject reacted violently, may not recover”, some almost reached launching but “Subject experiences delusions after intake, not recommended”. What kind of sick joke is this? Dylan wanted to ask. He stopped when he suddenly realized why Jen had labeled “Sample Testing” next to this lab.

A constant, irregular clink of metal chains sounded at the end of the hall. Phil exchanged glances with Dylan before they neared the exact room.

Voices grew louder. Three of them.

“Ms. Jenkins. This shows potential for a brand new direction. With further research, we might even launch a new Pill after all these years,” a man’s voice boomed out with zeal, sending chills down Dylan’s spine.

“Thank you for your support. I couldn’t have done it without your help,” Ms. Jenkins responded, her voice coated with honey.

Dylan and peeked into the room while Phil faced the hallway staircase. The men and women turned their backs against Dylan, both looking at a glass panel, or rather, at the room beyond the glass. Dylan winced at the sight.

A mop of red hair shook violently inside the other room. A teenage boy spewed and twitched violently. His ankles chained to the ground. He howled in pain. The boy collapsed to the ground.

As Dylan witnessed in utter horror, his bones cackled, broken then reshaped.

His spine arced forward. His arms wobbled like an octopus before being stretched longer, tearing skin. Flesh showed, black blood oozed out. His fingers grew stout.

Dylan grimaced as bile rose up into his throat. His knees threatened to buckle as he leant against the wall, still peeking into the room.

As the boy stood up, his eyes shined a familiar hue of red. He knelt onto the ground. His arms used as front legs as he attempted escape. The chain digging into his flesh. The blood boiled, burning where it had fallen. Dylan’s intestines swirled. The boy resembled more of a wolf than human.

“Would it be possible to make them response to orders? Please, enlighten me,” the man chuckled, a hand caressing Ms. Jenkins’s lower back. Now Dylan really wanted to puke.

“Well, he is responding right now. He can hear you, you know?” Ms. Jenkins responded in a manner that hinted she couldn’t be bothered at all if the boy can hear them.

Dylan turned to find Phil, there was enough gathered from their little exploration. He gave one last look into the room. The other boy stared back. Dylan’s eyes widened in fear. His legs froze as the boy raised his head and howled, like a wolf calling for his pack.

Dylan’s mouth hung agape. All he could comprehend was how the boy had sprouted canines. Briefly, Dylan felt a sharp pain against his neck. He moved a hand up to his neck. Not bleeding. Nothing. But the pain remained, pierced through skin and flesh.

“What does a howl mean?” the man’s voice blended into a buzz.

“Oh! I don’t know actually. No previous test subject howled.” Ms. Jenkins replied with a surprised voice.

“Dylan! We have to go!” Phil shouted. Wait, wha- Phil shouted?

Dylan snapped out of his trance to see his father, dragging him down the staircase. Five securities already chased after them.

“What were you doing?” Phil yelled as they leapt down another flight of stairs.

Dylan felt the blood pumping in him. His legs all but high on adrenaline.

Clearly, the securities didn’t access the Pill as they fell behind. Dylan and his father scaled up the dirt steep, retaking the route they came from.

So much for a HQ that develops mass murder weapons, Dylan smirked. His celebration halted as the pair reached the front gate. More security. Everyone had a gun.

“Couldn’t we just go from the minefields? No one would chase us there.”

“People on the roof could see us and shoot,” Phil huffed.

“Couldn’t we just fight them?”

“Too big of a risk. We could set the building on fire though,” Phil mused, his eyes twinkling.

“Why would we do that?” Dylan stared at his father.

“If there’s fire, they prioritize the fire because of all the mines. We have a better chance of escape. Even if we didn’t escape, we at least dealt some damage to them,” Phil shrugged.

“Let’s go then,” Dylan jumped up to enter the building again. The moon hung low over the mountain top. He hoped they’d both be home by sunrise.