The Memory Painter

“And what about me?” Conrad was asking. “I have no say?”

Michael tried to stay focused. “Officially it’s my project. I spearheaded it. I already notified NIA that we’re unable to continue second-round testing.” He added, “And we’ve all stopped taking it.”

Conrad looked away, making Michael certain that his suspicions about the double dosing had been correct. Maybe there were more bottles hidden somewhere in the apartment.

“So we lose our grant.” Conrad sat down, took his eyeglasses off, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“This isn’t about a grant,” Michael argued. “We’ve discovered a truth that could redefine our very existence.”

Conrad said nothing for a long time. Michael waited, wondering if Conrad had forgotten that he was there. Something was wrong.

“What about our real test subjects?” Conrad finally asked. “We’re on the brink of a real cure. Do we bury that as well?”

“Do you think the world is ready for this? I can barely speak English anymore and Diana believes you’re the third-century asshole who burned her alive.”

Conrad opened his eyes and glared at him. “That’s ludicrous.”

“Finn thinks so too.”

“Because you’re all trapped in some warped drama of your own making.” Conrad pounded his fist on the table with such force that the wood cracked. “It’s a distraction. You don’t realize what’s at stake.”

Conrad was not at all himself, and Michael’s instincts told him to get out. He started backing toward the door. “My decision is final.”

“I have the formula.” Conrad trembled with fury. “I can do whatever the hell I want!”

“You can’t do anything without us.”

With incredible speed, Conrad grabbed Michael by the neck and rammed him into the wall. Trapped in a vise, Michael gripped Conrad’s wrists and fought to breathe. Conrad spoke in a low guttural language that Michael couldn’t comprehend—his voice sounded like a deep growl. Their faces were inches apart, and Michael could sense a power radiating from Conrad that Michael had never encountered before.

But Conrad also saw something in Michael’s eyes that made him gasp. He loosened his grip and stepped back in shock. Michael took advantage of the opening and rammed his knee into Conrad’s crotch. He doubled over to the ground in agony.

Michael escaped and raced to the door. “I knew you were having recalls. Stay away from us. This is over.” He slammed the door so hard the hinges shook.