The Turning of Mark Ryu

The cheese was smelly and aged to perfection, but the rat sitting in front of it didn't seem to care. Its pink nose twitched, whiskers flicking. After a moment, it turned away from the cheese without so much as a nimble. “Yes!” Mark spun around in his swivel chair, his arms raised in triumph. The lab on the third floor was empty except for the janitor who gave him a little ‘yay.’ Mark laughed, pushing off from the table and shooting himself across the floor to his desk. He opened his laptop, pulled up the appropriate document, and began to type:

Test #5 of Azripax-6 on Subject #4 - After five weeks of scarce food, the overall health of Subject #4 has remained stable. The drug’s regenerative and stabilizing effects have simultaneously maintained muscle composition while also helping Subject #4 lose weight. Both muscle tone, weight, and vitamin/mineral needs remain within healthy parameters.

Mark read through the entirety of his twenty page report one last time. Satisfied, he hit ‘print.’ He laced his fingers behind his head with a sigh. His four years of work and study were moving to the next phase, he could feel it. Grabbing the still warm papers from the printer, he placed them in a manila folder and locked it in the top drawer of his desk,

“Mark?” Aaron, one of Mark’s college roommates and fellow scientists, stood in the doorway.

“Yes?”

“Dr. Bayer wants to see you in her office.”

Mark smiled. His supervisor probably had some words of wisdom for him in light of his upcoming review. “Ok, I’m on my way.” Mark made his way down the hall, unable to keep the happy bounce from his step. He knocked on Dr. Bayer’s open door.

Dr. Bayer looked up from the stack of papers in front of her. “Mark, please take a seat.” He removed a stack of books from the chair before sitting. The entirety of Dr. Bayer’s office was in a constant state of chaos, but she always made sure to keep her desk free of the clutter.

“My report is ready for tomorrow,” Mark said, smiling. “It’s nearly perfect. I think I have a shot at convincing the medical board to fund the human clinical trials for Azripax.” Dr. Bayer looked up, her eyes serious. Mark’s smile faded.

"Dr. Ryu,” she started, “you’re excellent at your job, I’ve seen the dedication you have for your work, and I hope you are as proud as I am of your achievements. But please don’t get your hopes up.”

There was no humor in Mark's chuckle. “What? No ‘good luck?’’

Dr. Bayer moved around to lean on the front of her desk. “Mark, I know how you think, how impatient you are, how passionate. I’ve talked to a few of the board members and I know what they think about your drug. They all see its potential, but they think the neurological effects need further studying before they can approve it.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“So you won’t overreact when they say it to your face tomorrow.”

Mark let out a long, pent up breath. He respected Dr. Bayer and all she had entrusted him with, but her words, however true, stirred up his pride. “Have you ever been overweight, Dr. Bayer? I have, since I was thirteen. I’ve tried three different weight loss medications over the past ten years alone and they’ve all given me gastrointestinal problems. But Azripax doesn’t have any of those side effects. None. If I can offer people like me a way to lose weight without being so uncomfortable, then I’ll do it.”

“And I’m sure you will,” she sympathized, “just not yet.”

Mark stood. “Thanks for the advice, but I won’t need it.”

“Mark.” Mark’s fingers tightened on the doorknob. “Don’t be rash. Don’t go all evil scientist on me,” she said, giving him an understanding smile. Mark scowled, slamming the door behind him without a word.

~~~~~

“She jinxed me!” Mark shoveled another fork full of lasagna into his mouth. The cafeteria bustled around them, light pouring in from the windows of the vaulted ceiling. “The board shut me down; they won’t fund Azripax past the lab stages. And, to make it worse, they transferred me to Olivet’s division. They know I can’t stand her.”

Sitting across from him, Aaron munched slowly on his salad. “You didn't get the funding, so what? Focus on what you have to do for Olivet’s work, then use what money you do have left for the Azripax experiments. Simple. Besides, no funding now doesn’t mean they won’t change their minds later on. Just lay low for a bit.”

"Laying low won’t get me anywhere.” Mark leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and wishing his plate wasn’t already empty. “If I could just show them it works…”

“It does work,” Aaron said, “on rats. Human trials will always, always, throw in new variables. You know that.”

Mark opened his eyes. “Variables can be observed.”

“Always.”

The feet of Mark’s chair echoed like a gun-shot as he brought them back to the floor, causing a few heads to turn.

“You good?” Aaron asked.

Mark nodded slowly, a risky idea dancing in the forefront of his mind. “Yeah, yeah I am. Maybe you're right; maybe I just need to lay low for a bit.”

“I’m always right. Now, about that girl I met…”

Aaron’s conversion became a drone in Mark’s ears as his mind swam into dangerous territory. That evening, he lay on his couch, his conscience guilty. He pulled a tin of mints from his pocket. Nestled amongst the white disks was a single Azripax. Mark picked it out, staring at the pale blue pill. If he could prove that it worked on humans or, better yet, show them, the board would have to approve funding for his research. He could hear the taunt of Dr. Bayer’s words in his head. “I’m not a mad scientist,” he muttered. He only had to prove that the pill worked. That was it. Mark grabbed his water bottle and popped it open. He could not, would not, move on until he knew for certain that it didn't work. As for side effects…he would deal with them if they arose. With a mouth full of water and a slight tilt of his head, Mark swallowed the pill.

~~~~~

“I must say, Mark, you’re looking great."

Mark smiled. He sat with two of his colleagues at a Korean barbecue. Three months of Azripax had shaped his body in ways he could have only dreamed of. Muscles formed with little effort and the weight had melted off like butter. His meticulous notes were also becoming a new, fully fledged report, one that the board couldn't refute. “Thanks.”

Nicholas, a microbiologist, peered at him through the rising smoke of the cooking meat. “So what’s your secret?”

Mark shrugged. “Nothing. Just working out and watching what I eat.”

Jun took a sip of his soju. “Yeah, right. That’s never worked for you before.”

“Well it is now.”

“How much have you lost?” Nicholas asked.

“Fifty pounds.

“Damn. And you’ve bulked up too. How much did you say you’re lifting?”

“Four-fifty.”

Jun clapped. “Alright, that deserves a toast!” The trio lifted their glasses and drank.

Mark licked his lips, staring into his empty glass. “Does this soju taste weird to you guys?”

Nicholas and Jun shook their heads. “Tastes fine to me,” said Jun. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Mark said slowly. “It just tastes…off” He took a bite of the grilled pork belly. He quickly moved to the kimchi, pickled radish, and rice in turn.

“Well?”

Mark stared at his friends. ”It tastes great,” he lied.

“For how expensive it is, it better. I’ll grill some more beef,” Nicholas said.

Mark took another bite of the savory meat, but his stomach churned. There was nothing there. No spice. No sweetness. No enjoyment. Only an ashy, bitter taste remained. He swallowed all the same, hiding his disgust behind a well practiced smile as he joked with his friends. In his jacket pocket, the bottle of Azripax felt heavier than ever.

~~~~~

“Dr. Ryu!” Mark jerked. He was sitting at a table full of scientists who had gone silent. They were all staring at him.

“What?”

At the head of the table, Dr. Olivet’s lips became a tight line. “I said, can you please present your findings for the Epsilon testing?”

Mark shifted in his seat. “I…I don’t have the reports with me.” The table’s occupants began to murmur.

A rigid smile fixed itself upon Dr. Olivet’s face. She moved on quickly, prompting the next person to speak. Once the meeting was over, she walked directly to Mark’s seat. “We might not find each other agreeable,” she hissed, “but I still expect professional courtesy from you when we are in the workplace. There will be a very large folder on your desk tomorrow. Read it all. And take those stupid sunglasses off.”

Mark readjusted the sunglasses closer to his face as she walked away. Before he could stand, Aaron had hauled him upwards and out of the room. “What happened there, man?” Aaron quickly led Mark away, keeping a firm grip on his arm. “You were out of it.”

“Sorry,” Mark mumbled. “I think I’m just…hungry.”

“You’re hungry? Seriously? You're more than hungry, Mark. Something has got you messed up. You didn’t even remember that double date we were supposed to go on last night.”

“That was last night?”

“Yes! And you didn’t show up. I had to explain to two lovely women that I wasn’t, in fact, a player when you didn't show up. They both left.”

“Sorry.”

The single word was heavy, quiet. Aaron pulled them both to a stop outside the cafeteria doors. He let go, looking Mark up and down.

“Are you alright?”

“No. Just…let’s go eat, ok?” Rain hammered the glass roof above them, filling the seating area with its roar. Mark stared at his fried chicken, eating nothing.

Aaron watched him closely. “I think you should go to the doctor after this.”

“Ok.”

“I can take you.”

“Sure.”

“Also, why are you still wearing those sunglasses? You said you got lasik done almost two weeks ago.”

Mark didn’t answer. He leaned his arms on the table, placing his head in his hands with a groan. A pounding headache had wrapped its claws around his brain, every heartbeat causing another beat of its drum. And there it was again; that smell. That tantalizing, rich smell, right in front of him.

Mark…” Aaron’s voice trailed off as Mark slowly raised his head and stood. He stared at Aaron, a drip of saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth. It was right there. Right there…

Mark lurched quickly around the table, grabbed Aaron by the shoulders, and bit his throat. Aaron screamed. The two men fell to the ground, their plates clattering to the floor as their table upended. Aaron tried to wrestle Mark off, but the lack of air made him falter. Aaron’s yell became a gurgle as Mark pulled back, taking a piece of Aaron’s neck along with him. Chaos erupted in the cafeteria. A woman grabbed a food tray and slammed it into the side of Mark’s head. Mark dropped Aaron and rounded on the woman, grabbing and biting her hand. A metal chair smashed Mark’s head. He stumbled sideways and fell into another set of tables. Jun held the chair, poised to strike again. Mark growled. He attempted to stand, but quickly fell over. Nicholas and another man hauled Mark upwards, holding him firmly as he twisted and squirmed. Mark hung in their strong arms, panting hard. The wild look faded from Mark’s face as quickly as it had arisen. Realization returned to his eyes. He stared down at his bloody clothes, the hands holding him back, and Aaron’s convulsing body.

“Aaron…” A group of people had surrounded his friend. “Aaron!” He tried to pull away. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” His apologetic mantra became lost in the noise as security guards and paramedics rushed into the hall.

One of the security guards came up to them. “What the hell happened here?”

“Mark…” Nicolas started. He stared down at his friend’s now quiet, shaking frame. “He…he attacked Aaron. He…bit his throat out.” The guard grabbed a handful of Mark's hair and jerked his head backwards. Somewhere in the attack, Mark’s sunglasses had fallen off. The whites of his eyes were a sickly green.

The guard let him go with a scoff. “We’ll take him from here.” Another guard grabbed Mark and cuffed his hands behind his back. Mark didn't struggle. His eyes were glued to where a paramedic was trying to stop the blood that was spurting from Aaron’s neck. The blood of his best friend. The same blood that soaked Mark’s shirt. There were no words left, only a dark, empty hollow in his chest. The guards shoved Mark out the doors while the paramedics took Nicholas out on a stretcher. Both men left a trail of blood in their wake.

~~~~~

Dr. Bayer walked purposely down the flight of stairs to the basement, her flats tapping lightly on the tile. The basement of the laboratories had a single holding cell, just in case some rowdy, self-righteous scientist needed to be contained. Two armed guards stood outside the door. “How is he?”

One of the guards, who’s name tag read ‘Sullivan,’ answered. “He’s still crazy. Manic, even.”

“With delirium, if I were to guess.” Dr. Bayer peered through the window on the door. “Let me in.” The guards shared a glance, but promptly unlocked the door. She stepped into the little room with Sullivan beside her, the second guard staying by the open door. Mark was standing at the little sink and mirror that was on the left hand wall of the room. An empty tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush lay on the floor by his feet. He was vigorously washing his face. Dr. Bayer grimaced as she watched him take the liquid soap container, pump it into his mouth, and start to gargle with it. He choked and ran water into his mouth. He turned then, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. In the bright, medical lighting, Dr. Bayer could see his eyes flash green.

“What are you doing here?” The words were a croak. Mark backed away until he sat on the cot in the back right corner of the cell. “Leave. Please.”

Ignoring Sullivan’s warning, Dr. Bayer moved forward until she stood right before the cot. She sat at the end of the small bed, causing Mark to press himself into the corner. Sitting this close, Dr. Bayer could easily see the algae green in his sclera. “I’m here to see if you’re ok, Mark.”

Mark’s face crumpled. He wrapped his arms around his wet chest. “Is Aaron alive?” His voice cracked. “D…did I kill him?”

Dr. Bayer studied his face. She needed answers. “He’s alive,” she lied.

Mark let his head rest against the wall. “Thank goodness.”

“You stole the Azripax pills from the laboratory, didn't you?”

Mark’s eyes trembled. “Yes.”

“And you started taking them?”

A single tear slipped down Mark’s cheek. “It works, Lucy, Azripax really works, I promise. It can still work. We just need to-”

“How long have you been taking it?”

Mark turned away. “Five months.”

“How many a week?”

“Three. But I quit.”

“When?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“And…when was the last time you ate anything?”

Mark looked back, his eyes devoid of energy. “Really ate? Three months.” Dr. Bayer let out a long breath of air she didn't realize she'd been holding. “I ate every once in a while of course, but my body really didn’t need it,” Mark muttered. His eyes found the blood on his pants then quickly looked up again. “Then everything started to taste wrong. But I wasn’t hungry so it didn’t matter. I stopped eating all together last month. But then…” Mark focused on her face. “But then something started to smell good, really…good, and I…I lost control…” Mark’s words faded away. His face suddenly went slack and his eyes became distant.

“Mark,” Dr. Bayer said, unable to keep the urgency out of her voice, “were there any more of those pills? Did you get rid of them?”

“Get out.” The words were barely a whisper.

“What?”

Mark’s head snapped up. “Get out,” he shouted, “now!” He shoved her away, causing her to fall off the cot. Dr. Bayer scrambled to her feet. When her eyes found Mark’s again, they had lost all recognition and understanding, replaced by an animal-like intent. He crouched on the cot, bared his teeth, and jumped. The meaty ‘smack’ of Sullivan’s fist into Mark’s jaw sent him reeling back onto the cot.

“Move,” Sullivan barked. He grabbed Dr.Bayer and pulled her through the door, the other guard locking it once they were through. The trio stood, catching their breath as Mark’s tormented scream pierced through the door.

Dr. Bayer ran a hand through her hair. “Get him some new clothes,” she said. “And put a muzzle on him before the medical evacuation team gets here.” As the two guards turned back to their post, Dr. Bayer grinned. She traced the tin of Azripax in her coat pocket with her fingers. Everything hadn’t gone quite to plan, but she was happy with the result all the same. She looked back through the window. Mark stood before the mirror, his arm clamped in his teeth. The tears from his green eyes merged with his own blood as it dripped into the sink.

~~~~~

In the third floor labs, a single rat sat in its cage, surrounded by the bodies of its dead litter-mates. Its eyes shimmered green.