Chapter 23

"Look at you, Doc! You went and got better too! But

you can't beat me," he sneered. "Not when I can create DCs!"

Is it not only feasible but possible that our bites

can cause a mutation? And what type? If "Grundy" is to be believed, his is just

as decaying as a regular DCs.

I continued to fight my way towards Grundy, who

incidentally has always been cowardly. But I think he has found confidence in

his newfound "allies".

"I knew your door was around here somewhere," he

yelled over the droning of the herd. "Now tell me where!"

So, it is also evident that his mental capacity

remained approximately the same, while his musculature has become more dense

and bulky.

"It seems that all mutations are not created equal," I

said. "While yours is rudimentary at best, while mine seems to be more of a

benevolent nature vis-a-vie, a mental and physiological capacity that outpaces

yours at a geometric level."

"What the hell does that mean?" he asked.

"Exactly!" I responded.

Closer and closer I got to Grundy smashing the skull

of anything between me and him. All the while the undead bit and clawed at me

to no avail. They couldn't even break the skin. As I got closer, Grundy's

innate nature took hold and he began to retreat. He turned and as he did, the

DCs began to turn and follow.

I regrouped with Em and Tank in the foliage. Tank,

although bit numerous times, was no worse for the wear. I felt for the guy. Em

was already applying an herbal poultice she had created from the surrounding

plants. Her grasp of botany and herbalism already rivaled Diane's. Tank's

physiology was already responding in a positive way.

The three of us made our way back to the hatch in a

very pronounced path to ensure confusion if we were being watched. The cover of

the bushes and thickets provided excellent cover from prying eyes. We got Tank

to the med lab and I noticed that his bites were already scabbing over. I

placed him on one of the reinforced cots as he drifted into a recuperative

slumber. Em and I returned to the hall where everyone sat waiting on the

outcome of our escapade.

"What happened? Was it Cisco and Cyrus?" asked Andre. "Did

they discover our location?"

"It was Cyrus. But he is now calling himself Solomon

Grundy," I explained.

"Like in the comic book?" asked Joshua. "That can't be

good."

"Explain," I queried.

"Well, in the comic book, Solomon Grundy was an undead

creature of limited intelligence spurred on by his incessant hatred," explained

Joshua. "He had chalky white skin, and almost unlimited strength. His greatest

weakness was not knowing how strong he was. Oh yeah, whenever he was destroyed,

he rose again in the swamp in which he rose for the first time."

"They are both obviously a literary extension of the

James Orchard Halliwell's nursery rhyme of the same name," I postulated. "Like

Joshua's accounting, he has strength and chalky white skin, but this Grundy can

somehow get the DCs to follow him without attacking. He claimed he created

them."

"It's undoubtedly a variant on the extrasensory

perception that we share, but not as developed," stated Em. "I postulate that

with concerted effort that one's abilities might mature into fully developed

synapse relay through the apertures of infinity and eternity."

"Okay stop that shit right now!" yelled Tim. "I have a

PhD in applied sciences and you both are making me doubt my grasp on the

English language. Can't you just speak in syllables of four or less?"

"I apologize to Tim and everyone else present," began

Em. "But imagine if you will that you spoke in a language of comfort that only

you and the person you cared for most in existence spoke. Now imagine there are

others around who did not speak said language and you were told to purposely "talk

down to them." I can view this as an exercise, but it is inefficient and does

take effort. What I said was that Grundy has developed a sort of ESP, not

unlike what Marv and I share. And that with practice we may even be able to

read minds and project thought into those who do not share our gifts."

"Wait! You'd be able to read our private thoughts like

some overlord," demanded Di. "Stay the fuck out of my head! How do I know you

won't force me to do something I don't want to do? Something like accepting the

two of you back? Because the more I think about it, the more sense it makes."

It was as if a wave of positivity, acceptance and

forgiveness swept across the hall. Where once there was acrimony, there was now

forgiveness and understanding. It was unreal. My banishment was now off the

table.

"Was that you, Em?" I projected to her. "Did you

influence her free will?"

"I would never be so callous as to flaunt and abuse

our abilities," she began. "This is going to sound weird, but I think it was

our baby!"

And then it hit me. If our baby was this powerful in

the womb, what will it be capable of once it reaches full maturity?

"But our child is little more than a fetus," I

countered. "Can these abilities already be manifesting in the child?"

It was at that moment that I felt the mind of my child

for the first time. Most parents have to be content with an ultrasound, but I

am able to engage my child who is learning inside the womb. It is not so much

via a language as much as it is an intuition. I just "know" what the child's

intentions are and they are those of survival.

I quickly began to "nudge" the group psychically to

initiate the panels of blood tests necessary to begin the dosages of the serum.

Due to the platelets in Tank's Golden blood, there shouldn't be a problem with

matching. No, the concern is that not all mutates will be created equal and the

limit on the doses. The permutations of what could possibly happen are

astounding and could have devastating consequences.

As Em, Eli, Joshua and I began our work, the

communication between Em, the baby and I became more prevalent. At one point it

was as if the three of us combined our intellect to increase our intellectual

capacities creating a sort of hive mind whose sum was infinitely more than its

parts. It was amazing how our unborn child was learning at an exponential rate.

Not just on an intellectual scale, but via intuitive analysis as well as

creatively and emotionally.

It was Joshua's suggestion that we hold a lottery to

see who on the council got the injections. He also stated that we should

observe and catalogue any abilities that became apparent. Taking into account

the varying of personalities, we got Fred and Tim to design and oversee the

construction of a containment chamber for the new recipients. Each person had

to agree to a week's confinement upon treatment. The containment unit was could

be breached, but only if the person confined had ample time to formulate and

execute any of 16 permutations and calculations to escape. As luck would have

it, the first name drawn was Fred's.

Fred was insistent that we inject the serum directly

into his stump, clinging to the hope that it would somehow regenerate his arm.

The first two days, Fred sat quietly in the containment chamber, reading and

consuming his meals. On the third day, he began to write and scribble furiously

for hours at a time. Sheet after sheet, pad after pad. But there was no

additional mass or any change in his missing appendage.

On day four, Fred's cranial visage began to increase.

It was not grotesque by any stretch of the imagination, but there was a

noticeable difference. While the antibodies were present, and he was immune to

the bites, Fred developed very little in the spectrum of additional muscle

mass, or any other senses. He also developed a healing factor a little more

advanced than Tanks. Fred also developed a mutated creative drive that allowed

him to devise and invent machinery whose wonderment was only matched by its simplicity.

On day seven, Fred exited the containment chamber with a rudimentary mechanical

hand attached to his stub that he had designed and created with items in the

chamber.

The Mechahand, as Fred coined it, had five

digits that shot a flame, had a screwdriver and extended small blades from

where the fingernails would be. As Fred exited the chamber, he looked at me

with an excited look and exclaimed, "I need to go shopping!"

Next up for the dosage was T. He was apprehensive as

he was unsure how it would affect his relationship with Naomi. She is really

good for T. He's more mature and centered with her in his life.

"Babe," T spoke softly to Naomi. "If it worked that

well for Marv, just imagine what it will do for a stud like me?" he delivered

with his signature smirk.

"People go their whole lives without finding the right

person," she said. "It took the end of the world for us to find each other, and

I don't want to lose you!"

They embraced and kissed each other as T gently wiped

the tears from her eyes. He then stepped into the chamber and Eli and Joshua

administered the serum. I personally oversaw the results of T's treatment. His

mutation was the oddest of them all.

On day one, T looked and behaved the same: always with

the wise cracks, always busting my balls. On day two, there was a one-inch

growth spurt and an addition of 5 lbs. of muscle mass. On day two it was more

of the same another half inch and 3 more lbs. In total T grew an additional 6

inches and a total of 30 lbs. of muscle. He looked just like a physically fit

man. His IQ had increased as well approximately 40 points and was just inside

the genius level. It wasn't until T exited the chamber and we embraced that we

realized the special mutation that T had acquired.

"Ow!" escaped from my lips as T squeezed me and lifted

me from my feet.