FICTION | SCIENCE FICTION | WEIRD SCIENCE
Sacrifices on the Altar of Science, Chapter 6 — Picking up the Pieces №1
Marc tries to pick up the pieces of his former life.
Marc wandered the streets, lonely, confused, and angry. People stared at his ugly grey skin and massive build. Some kid called him the Grey Hulk. That made him snicker, at least. His short moment of relieving laughter ended quickly when he stopped in front of a shop window.
His brutish reflection towered over the mannequins inside. He looked terrible, dirty and dressed in shorts and a tight-fitting lab coat. He saw the reflection of a primary school — his workplace — a bit to his left. Maybe his colleagues would help him. Marc folded the lab coat’s collar as if it would help hide his appearance.
Newton, the cat, was still with him. The scruffy little feline had followed him since leaving Maddy’s lab. Now, he rubbed against his legs and meowed. He’s probably starving too, Marc thought.
“Why do you stick with a miserable monster like me?”
He would have reached down to pet his feline friend but feared the lab coat might rip and expose him. Looking down at the cat, Marc wondered if Newton was all he had left in his life. How could everything have turned so wrong so quickly?
Marc felt the rage boil up again and slammed his fist against the wall next to the shop window. It left a huge hole and sent a crack through the window. He still couldn’t believe it. To him, this felt just like a soft punch. What have you done to me, Maddy? At that moment, a police car stopped close to him, and two officers exited.
“Sir?! Are you alright? Please, step back from the wall.”
The officers split up and came at him from two directions. Although they appeared non-threatening, they kept their hands close to their guns. Above all that, Marc could smell their fear. They feared the big bad monster, and he couldn’t blame them. But it didn’t make it easier for him. It made him angry.
“Everything fine, officers,” he roared, “I’m just on my way home.”
“You don’t look fine, sir,” the older of the two officers said, “You are aware you only wear a lab coat ….?”
“Yes … I … eh! … accidentally ripped my clothes.”
“… in front of a school.”
F**k, Marc thinks and feels the urge to hit his head against a wall. That cursed anger. He had to avoid it at all costs to avoid further suspicion.
“Sir, we have to ask you to come with us,” the older officer said.
Marc recognised that his younger colleague thought him distracted and circled toward him from behind.
“I haven’t done anything!”
“Sir, we need you to come with us.”
Marc couldn’t keep his anger inside when the officer slowly went for his gun.
“I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING!”
The older officer pulled his gun and nodded, not at him, Marc realised but at the younger officer behind him. Marc turned around just as the man tried to taser him. He tried to give the man a gentle push that sent him flying. The officer rolled in a wild tumble of arms and legs before lying unconscious on the sidewalk.
He heard a gun firing and rushed, almost fast enough to dodge the bullet that ripped into his left shoulder. With more force than he intended to, Marc grabbed the officer’s gun with his huge hand. Later he would never forget the officer’s agonised scream and the sound of breaking bones. Marc had always avoided violence but felt like he was now ceding control to the rage.
The pitiful sound pushed him deeper into his frenzy, and he tossed the officer to the side like a ragdoll before going for the police car. Somewhere deep behind that red curtain of rage, Marc — the old Marc — screamed in desperation and terror. As if doomed to ride shotgun in his own body, he realised how he lifted the car and tossed it away.
People were running away from him in panic, fueling his rage. He roared in anger and triumph until he saw the police car lying in the schoolyard. It had broken through the outer fence and flipped over a few times before it stopped on the basketball ground.
The shock of the sight brought Marc back into control. He couldn’t stay here or ask his colleagues for help. Nobody wanted weapons in schools, especially not a weapon of mass destruction like him. When Marc fled into a back alley, he realised that Newton was gone.
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