Trial 139C

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~ July ~

The last Friday in July was a long one for Bentley. His neighbours across the hall had had some sort of kid’s birthday party. It wouldn’t be such a big deal except Bentley worked nights and depended on a few hours’ sleep during the afternoon – sleep he hadn’t gotten with a dozen shrieking kids running the halls.

He was exhausted and slogged his way through his rounds, hoping to get home early and crawl into bed before the sun rose.

Which is why he cringed and cursed silently when he heard his named called just as he was about to go into room 117 – his last room of the night.

“Bentley!”

He turned around, trying not to look as impatient as he felt.

Jude Meyer was jogging up to him. His buzzcut and crisp uniform picture-perfect as always.

Well, if he was going to be held up...at least he got something nice to look at while he did. “Hey, Jude.”

The head of security stopped right in front of him, magnetic smile in place. “I’m glad I caught you. I have a favour to ask.”

Fuck...Bentley felt an impending sense of doom. He had never really learned how to say no to people who needed his help. “Yeah?”

“One of the other janitors is out sick.”

“Aw, man, my shift’s almost over, Jude...”

“No, I’m not asking if you’ll do his shift, too.” Jude quickly assured him. “Just one room. See, the replacement doesn’t have clearance to enter trial rooms. And this one hasn’t been cleaned all week.”

“Just one room?” Bentley echoed, unconvinced.

“Just one. I’ll make sure you get paid over-time. Double.” Jude wheedled.

Bentley groaned, regretting it even before he agreed. “Yeah, okay.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Bentley, I knew I could count on you.” Jude slapped him on the back, hard.

Normally he would be preening under Jude’s approval, now he was just cranky and tired, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, just give me the room number, G.I. Joe.”

Jude chuckled, a deep, masculine sound, “032.”

Bentley glanced once at 139C’s door and then wheeled his cart around and headed for the elevator.

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Room 032 was in the basement. Bentley entered code for the door and entered the room slowly, he didn’t want to disturb any trial that might be in there. His mind flipped through the possibilities. Would it be a water tank like C’s or a sandy pit like the lion trial’s…?

It was neither. The far wall was glass; the enclosure behind it looked like it was carpeted with wood chips and lined with several green, leafy trees. The trees were big for the relative area of the enclosure, leaves and branches bent to fit the space. The edges of the glass were foggy with condensation.

Abandoning his cart, Bentley walked up to the glass with careful, measured steps. Curious, but cautious, he peered into the enclosure. At first, he didn’t see anything. His eyes searched the cage, unsure of what he was even looking for. There was one light on near the back right of the cage. Under it was what he thought at first was a heap of dead leaves. It wasn’t until he searched the whole enclosure that he gave the heap a second look. It stirred faintly, the barest rise and fall of breath. It was a trial, he realized, huddled down against a fallen branch, under the small pool of light.

It wasn’t moving much at all, curled up against a thick tree branch that was almost the same diameter as her long, thin torso. She was willowy and female. Her body covered with flesh coloured scales. The only exceptions were the scales over her jaw, down her neck, and across her shoulders. Here, the scales were a patchwork of muddy browns and blacks. Across her arms and lower back, her skin looked like it was moulting.

As Bentley watched, the trial’s head swung towards him, inhumanely long tongue flicking out, tasting the air. Her eyes were silver-green, reptilian, with a black slit running vertical down the center. The eyes reflected the light from above.

Bentley wondered now why that light was the only one on. There were several of the other overhead lights, heat lamps from the look of them, but they were off. It didn’t make sense. If the trial was like a real snake, she should have the heat lamps on to keep her body temperature up.

“Hey, girl.” He spoke quietly.

She didn’t show any sign of acknowledgment.

He watched her quietly for a moment before his interest was interrupted by yawn. Although it wasn’t everyday one got to see a human/snake hybrid, his fatigue was winning out over curiosity.

“I’m just going to clean your room up a little.”

There was no response, not that he was really expecting one. He shrugged and got to work sweeping the floor.

He was done the floor and collecting the trash when a man came rushing into the room. He had a briefcase under one arm and his coat was hanging half off his shoulders. He was clearly in a hurry and didn’t even see Bentley until he was practically on top of him. His eyes lit when he did see the younger man. “You are a life saver.”

Bentley looked at him in surprise, “Excuse me?”

“Listen, I’m in a hurry. Big anniversary planned tonight, you see. But I forgot to feed 79D, here. Think you can do it for me, kid?”

“Uh...”

“It’s simple. Food’s in the white boxes and there’s a hatch on the far side of the enclosure to toss it through.”

Bentley looked across the room at the white boxes, unsure.

The man took Bentley’s silence as assent and turned quickly to head back out the door. He spoke over his shoulder, “Thanks. I really can’t be late or my old lady will kill me, you know.”

“Wait, I was just wondering about the lights.” Bentley stopped him as the scientist rushed for the door. Bentley gestured to dark bank of heat lamps. “I mean, why are these off?”

The scientist glanced up above the enclosure. “Oh. They burnt out. I’ve been meaning to put in a work order to have them fixed.”

Then he was gone.

‘Meaning to’? You’d think he’d have more respect for the reptilian heritage of the crossbreed. As a scientist working here, he must know it would be too cold without the heat lamps. Yet, he had done nothing. He hadn’t even remembered to feed the creature.

“Fuckwit.” Bentley mumbled to himself.

Bentley set the bins down and walked up to boxes against the wall, chanting softly under his breath. “Please don’t be alive, please don’t be alive.”

He opened one lid up. Mice. Live mice. Fuck. Not only was this day never going to end, it was determined to get worse and worse.

He gave the trial a look over his shoulder, “You couldn’t eat frozen ones, could you?”

Brow furrowed, he took a moment to gather himself and then reached in and lifted out a mouse.

“Ugh...” He nearly dropped it again as it squirmed in his hand. The only thing that made him keep going was remembering the time that idiot Dr. William had starved C. The last thing Bentley wanted was another trial to go hungry.

He forced himself to carry the mouse around to the far side of the enclosure. As the scientist had said, there was a small metal hatch that could be opened only from the outside. He used his free hand to pull it open.

Bentley gave the mouse a guilty, little pet before opening the hatch farther and dropping it through. “Sorry, buddy.”

At first the trial appeared uninterested. Then the mouse scampered closer and blink-and-you’d-miss-it the trial snatched it off the ground. There wasn’t even a squeak as the mouse was held tightly in both the trial’s hands, being squeezed. Bentley looked away quickly as the trial’s jaw began to hinge open.

Even though he really didn’t want to, Bentley forced himself to pull another mouse from the box and slide it into the enclosure, in case the trial was still hungry. The trial didn’t pay it any attention, which Bentley took to mean she was full.

Or maybe too cold to be hungry; Bentley saw her shiver lightly under the thin beam of light. Damn, this day was never going to end. Bentley heaved a hard sigh, knowing his work here wasn’t done yet. “Okay, let’s see if we can’t fix these lights.”

The brunette spent the rest of his night trying to replace the heat lamps. He woke his (very unimpressed) supervisor to ask about what lights were needed and how he could get them from the storage rooms. Then he had to track down Jude to check the building specs to find out how the light fixtures were accessed safely.

It was nearly four in the morning before he finally found the parts and tools needed. Then he climbed up the enclosure, crawling over wire mesh that made up the ceiling of the cage. He changed out the old bulbs, the whole time being watched by cold, calculating reptilian eyes.

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Bentley yawned. He probably should have just gone home after he finished those damned lights. But he had had wanted to see 139C before he left. As he entered the room, the dawn light was starting to filter down through the water from the top of the tank.

C swam to the window, a tight look of disapproval on his feature. Bentley shook his head, lips quirking ruefully. “I’m late. I know, I know.”

The trial scowled, treading water.

Bentley just yawned again, shoulders hunching, eyes dry and aching. 139C’s expression changed from one of censure to one of dark concern.

“Longest. Day. Ever.”

Bentley yawned once more and had to blink a few times to bring everything back into focus. God, it had been a long night. He wondered idly how he was going to bike home without running into anything or falling off the seat.

On the other hand, it would probably be at least two hours before the day workers showed up... Nobody would know if he took a little nap before going home.

Bentley lowered himself to the floor in front of the tank. He set the alarm on his phone to wake him in an hour and curled up, head pillowed on his arms. He fell asleep almost at once.

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His human looked exhausted. Dark circles lay under his green hued eyes and there was a drag to his step. The young man mumbled something and not for the first time he wished the damned glass wasn’t so thick it muffled all sound. Then his human proceeded to curl up on the ground and fall asleep.

He swam circles overhead for the next hour– standing guard.

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~ Early August ~

Was it really a date if one party was treating the other like a buddy? Bentley wondered dryly as his date punched him in the arm yet again, cheering heartily with a touchdown on the large-screen TV, of which this particular bar had five.

Bentley enjoyed football as much as the next guy, though he was no fanatic. He was partial to a game of touch football with friends on a Sunday morning, and he could get into cheering the Lions on on TV. But it wouldn’t have been his initial pick for a first date.

His ‘date’ was Ken Thompson: nice guy, owner of a killer ass, apparent football enthusiast…

“GO, GO, GO, YAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Bentley braced himself and Ken’s fist impacted his bicep right on cue.

As the night progressed, and nothing more romantic that Ken offering him the last BBQ wing occurred, Bentley was tempted to think it wasn’t a date at all; maybe they got their signals crossed when Ken (whom Bentley only knew from the bike repair shop) asked him out for dinner.

Or maybe this was Ken’s first date with another guy.

Ugh, he hoped not. But it would explain why the other man had tried to pull out his chair when they were given a table at the bar and why the blonde man sometimes glanced around the bar at the other patrons with a hint of paranoia. There was always something a little bit (a lot) awkward about going out with a guy who was just venturing from the closet.

Well, at least the beer was cold.

Three beer, and a victory shooter later (Go, Lions, Go), Bentley and Ken made small talk back to Ken’s car and the man drove Bentley home.

Oh, so it was a date after all, Bentley thought absently as Ken leaned in to kiss him once the car was parked outside his apartment.

The kiss was… okay. Dry, warm, a little self-conscious on both their parts.

When he pulled back, Ken smiled bashfully, “I had a good time, Ben.”

“Me, too.” It was a lie, but a white one.

That night Bentley dreamed of kissing. Only it wasn’t a handsome, blond, quasi-straight footballer he was kissing.

It was 139C. And it was so much more than just okay.

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There were no calendars in his tank, he measured time by his human. Five nights on, two nights off. His human’s schedule was like clockwork, with only the odd anomaly here and there. He wondered what Bentley did on his nights off. He resented that his human might have a life beyond these walls.

Sudden frustration lent him strength and he pushed through the water, bursting from the water’s surface with a violent splash. He grabbed the bars at the top and pulled himself up, taking a deep breath of the ocean air.

Would he ever be free again?

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~ Late August ~

The end of August brought an uncharacteristic dry spell to Pickford. It was nice to bike to work without getting sprayed by passing vehicles or dodging puddles. Bentley was glowing with sweat as he locked up his bike and started inside the facility. It was a nice night, dry air, calm, quiet skies.

The calm didn’t last long. Walking down the long cavernous hallway to the janitor’s room, Bentley heard a high, howling cry coming from one of the research rooms. His first thought was that one of the trials had escaped and attacked a scientist working late.

He cursed the fact he didn’t have his cell phone on him. He had forgotten to charge it, so he had left it at home. He considered running for help, but then another yipping shriek came from the room. Maybe there wasn’t time to run for help...

He grabbed his broom, hoping the wood handle could be used as a weapon. He hadn’t been a physical fight since the ninth grade, and certainly never with a trial (who, in Bentley’s limited experience, could well be genetically altered in ways that would give it a definite advantage in an attack against a human). He used his pass card to open the door and burst in, no idea what he would find.

Two guards were standing in the room, their work-issued navy uniforms dishevelled. There was a naked young woman struggling between them; tiny, with a thick sweeping mass of copper red hair. Bentley’s stomach knotted – one guard had his zipper down.

“What’s going on here?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, d-bag,” one guard protested. He looked back at Bentley, holding the struggling female by the arms.

“Just get out of here.” The other guard added with a threatening sneer. “We’re just taking care of some business.”

The girl let out a whimper and thrashed about, fearful brown eyes looking over at Bentley. She was a trial, Bentley quickly realized. Features abnormally fine and pointed for a human. Tiny nose and lips, big brown eyes, black claws at the ends of her fingers and toes... and a tail? Small but bushy and red like her hair, with a white tip. Fox.

“Listen,” Bentley tried to reason with them, “Just let her go.”

“Turn around and walk outta here.” The taller guard pushed the trial back into his buddy’s arms and turned his body to face Bentley squarely. “We’re just having some fun.”

“It doesn’t look like she’s having any fun.” Bentley challenged in a forceful tone.

“Her?” the guard snorted disdainfully, “Come on, she’s just a freak-of-nature science experiment, it’s not like she’s human. No one’s going to care.”

Bentley felt disgust pooling in his stomach at the man’s words. Not human. Was that what they said about 139C? Did they abuse him too? Mistreat him thinking that it didn’t matter because he wasn’t human like them? “Let her go.” This time Bentley’s demand was even harder, his back straightening.

A short barking laugh came out of the guard’s mouth, “Ha. Or what? What are you going to go about it?”

His pig-nosed friend holding the trial, laughed too, groping his meaty hands over the female again, seemingly just to make her squeal in fear.

“Stop!” Bentley stepped forward, “I won’t ask again.”

The trial stared at him, hope tempered by alarm. Bentley didn’t blame her for not feeling safe; he was clearly the underdog if this came to blows, and not exactly the knight-in-shining-armour type.

“Oh, you’re going to get it now, faggot.” The first guard jumped him then, fists striking Bentley’s cheek and then jaw, nearly knocking him to the floor.

Fighting back automatically, Bentley twisted and swung the broom handle like a bat, connecting with the guard’s side. The guard staggered, but didn’t fall. Worse though, the second guard shoved the female down and then jumped into the fight to help his buddy (not that he even needed it). The second guard grabbed the broom and wretched in out of Bentley’s hands. That left nothing but his hands and feet to use Bentley to fight the men off.

Quickly, his knuckles began to feel burned and busted, so he must have at least gotten a few hits in, but he was wasn’t winning the fight by any stretch of the imagination.

The first, tall guard punched him square in the gut, doubling him over. He was going to get his ass kicked if he didn’t play dirty. While still doubled over he grabbed the legs of a lab stool. When he stood, he swung it wide and blindly, just hoping it would connect with one of the guards. It smacked into the first guard, sending him careening into a lab station. Bentley used his speed and leaner frame to duck around the bulkier guard who roared and charged him after his cohort was hit with the chair.

Fuelled by panic, Bentley scrambled across the floor and grabbed the trial. The door out of the room was past both guards, so Bentley spun the female around pushed her back into the small office at the back of the lab. He flung another chair at the guards, slowing them down enough to throw himself into the room with her, closing and locking the door, pressing himself back against the wood to brace it.

The guards cursed and spat, trying the doorknob and kicking the door. Bentley closed his eyes, pressed back against it, and hoped to hell it held.

It did, and after exhausting themselves, the guards retreated.

Bentley didn’t dare open the door in case they were lying in wait outside it, but he did move away from the locked door, wanting to check to make sure the trial was okay.

He found her huddled, naked, under the desk. So scared she was shaking.

Those bastards.

Bentley unzipped his grey hoodie and shouldered it off, wearing a thin yellow tee underneath. He knelt and held the hoodie out to the female. She didn’t move; knees tucking up to her chest, head ducked to her knees. Bentley awkwardly laid the soft, grey hoodie around her shoulders. “It’s okay. Someone will find us soon.”

She whimpered and shook like a puppy. Bentley continued to kneel before her, babbling nonsense that he hoped was soothing.

Then the door shook with a BANG.

The guards were back, apparently with something heavy to batter the door with. Shit. Bentley needed someone to find them now, not later.

Standing, Bentley ransacked the paper-cluttered desk until he found a phone. There were no lines out. He could only call into the building. Double shit. Frantically he looked around the phone until he found a facility directory showing all the rooms and the number codes to reach them.

The door shuttered under another hard hit, hinges straining. “We’re going to make you pay for sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong! If you survive, maybe we’ll let you watch us finish off that aberration, that bitch in heat.”

With mounting horror, Bentley began to dial, starting at the top of the list with Bassett, L., hoping that there would still be someone in the building working late. He got all the way to Jhadav, S. before someone picked up. He quickly explained his situation and waited for help to come.

He expected help to come (if it came in time at all) in the form of the police. What showed up, however, was more of the facility security and a handful of scientists. He could hear people yelling, the two guards being subdued and then a rattle at the door.

Bentley’s heart leap in his throat.

A voice yelled through the door, “Bentley, it’s me! Open up now, it’s safe!”

Jude!

Bentley quickly scrambled back and opened the door.

A blonde, female scientist pushed past him and quickly spirited the trial away.

The head of security took Bentley back to another room to question him. Jude had him run through exactly what had happened; start to finish, step by step, several times.

Only when the inquiry was over did anyone think to give him a first aid box to clean his cuts and cover his bloody knuckles.

Jude stuck around to help him wrap his hands.

Not wanting to lose face in front of Jude, Bentley clenched his teeth and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

“I’m sorry this happened, Bentley.” Jude spoke up, once they were alone in the little room. “You were very brave, saving that trial.”

Bentley shrugged a little, uncomfortable with the praise. “What’s going to happen to those men?”

“They’ll be arrested and locked up if I have any say in it.”

Bentley gave the head of security a haunted look. “They didn’t think what they were doing was wrong, since she was a trial.”

“They were wrong.” Jude’s chiselled features were rigid.

Bentley’s thoughts were of C. Was he treated well? Was he ever hurt and scared like the little fox? God, he hoped not. “Have you...I mean...I guess what I wanted to know is, are the trials treated badly? Is this common?”

“No, Bentley. My job is to keep everyone safe in this building. That includes the trials.”

He sounded earnest, but somehow Bentley didn’t feel a lot better.

“Listen,” Jude laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you go home early - take few days off even. I can get it cleared with your supervisor.”

Jude looked surprised when Bentley responded with, “I’ll finish my rounds first,” but the head of security didn’t try to stop him from going down to the janitors’ room.

He didn’t finish his rounds. He just grabbed his supplies headed for 139C’s room, needing to be near the trial for reasons he couldn’t explain and didn’t want to examine.

As he pushed his cart in, 139C swam up the window, as usual, but when the trial caught sight of Bentley’s battered face and bandaged hands he snarled, teeth snapping, hands fisted against the glass.

“Relax, C. Everything’s okay.” Bentley automatically tried to pacify the creature.

The shark hybrid kept snarling; bubbles streaming form his mouth, gaze murderous.

“Quit it.” Bentley ordered; his patience was paper-thin. “I didn’t come here to deal with your rabid-shark act.”

139C still looked pissed as hell, but he seemed to understand Bentley’s words or his facial expression and he stopped snapping his jaws and hitting the glass.

Bentley abandoned his cart and walked back to shut the door. Then he approached the tank, walking right up to it on legs that felt a little like jelly.

Bentley took a long, shuddering breath, leaning his back up against the window. 139C pressed against the other side, and, for a moment, Bentley pretended he could feel the flesh and blood creature against him instead of just the hard, ungiving glass.

“Shit, C, this has been the worst night ever.”

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His human was hurt. His face was battered and bruised and blood was seeping through the white cotton bandages on his hands.

He felt powerless and he hated it. If he could just get out of this tank, nothing would stop him from protecting his human. Nothing.
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Little did he know a disaster loomed which would test that vow.

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Weeeeeeeee! The next chapter has the disaster hinted at in the story synopsis – finally! You’ve all been very patient :P. Thank you again for your reviews. I love reading what everyone thinks about it. And they make me want to write more and more.