Science Evolution: Class S

Chapter 2

The family sat huddled together on the sofa, the child snuggled protectively between its parents. They were all lit by the glow of the television, the pale light giving them a slightly ghostly look. They sat unaware that they were being watched.

“Are you sure Intel has got it right?” a voice barely more than a choked whisper floated out of the dark by the big bay window.

“I ain’t been wrong yet Shawn and I don’t plan on starting now.” A second voice hissed from across the expanse of glass “So stop asking.”

Shawn didn’t reply he had noticed the acidic tone in Arnold’s voice even if it were only a whisper. That tone was dangerous and could be deadly if he ignored it.

“Okay. Are you ready rookie? Were going in hot in less than five minutes.” The voice had an audible smirk attached to it.

“Arnie, I’ve been doing this for three years, you think you can stop calling me that now? I’m a professional after all. Of course I’m ready just give me the signal” Shawn’s face turned down in a grimace, he hated Arnold, the pig faced podgy bastard. Everyone on the taskforce knew he was just a bully with a badge.

“Quiet rookie, save your breath for the rebels.” The contempt in Arnolds voice made Shawn’s blood boil.

The minutes stretched out in silence, the family sat unaware of what was going on right outside their window.

Shawn felt his heart beat quicken in his chest, he could faintly taste copper in the back of his parched throat. Every raid he felt like this, anxious and jumpy. Almost ready to pass out; then when the signal came, the feeling passed in a rush of adrenaline and action.

“Mark in ten seconds.” Arnold’s voice stretched across the void between them.

This was it, the final few fleeting seconds before everything dissolved in a whirl of screaming and confusion.

“In Nine Seconds” Arnolds voice sounded way to calm to Shawn, didn’t he feel any of this? Didn't he feel the rush, the elation, the exhilaration any of it?

“Eight seconds” Shawn’s breaths were coming in short sharp gasps, his heart thundering in his ear until he was sure that he would go deaf.

“Seven” Arnolds voice was barely more than a whisper but Shawn could still hear it over the crash hammer of his own heart.

“Six” God it was coming so quick now, Shawn’s nerves were firing now. He couldn’t wait; it was so close now.

“Five you better be ready rookie; 4” Arnold’s voice was only now showing any sign of emotion. Shawn was almost shaking himself to pieces where as old pig face was as cool as a cucumber.

“Three, everyone lock and load.” This was the reason everyone joined the taskforce. The raids, searching the power, each and every one of them tingled with it except for Arnold; the ass.

“Two this is it get ready guys.” Shawn’s vision was sharpening; everything seemed to be slowing down.

He felt relived, he felt in control of himself again. His hands were steady; his heartbeat had stopped thundering he was calm and ready.

“One, everyone on my mark.” Now Arnold’s voice sounded fuzzy with excitement and anxiety. Shawn felt victorious that during the heat of the moment he would be level headed; where as Arnold, his team leader and his better, would be acting like a headless chicken.

Time seemed to stop, an eternity of silence stretching out indefinitely. Around the building all the team members were waiting, holding their breath simultaneously.

Inside the family were still huddled together; the smile on the young child’s face widening as its father began tickling. The long fingers deftly and gracefully along the back of the child’s neck.

“Mark!” The command ripped from the throat as Arnold’s bulky tree like torso, pivoted brining the butt of his rifle into jarring contact with the window causing it to implode, a million starry shards hanging silently almost magically in the air.

Distant thuds as other entrances were bombarded. The clomp of heavy boots as armoured squad members surged through the house searching the other rooms for anyone else.

As soon as Arnold’s thick torso swung back revealing the cavernous hole in the bay window. Shaun was charging through, hi gun barrel raised covering the suspects.

The smile now forgotten from the child’s face, instead the lips formed a great ‘O’ of horror and tears began spilling from its light blue eyes.

“Stay where you are; hands where I can see them!” Shawn’s voice was louder than the television.

The child started screaming; no longer content with its silent terror. The harsh cries startled the mother out of her revere; she began pulling her child toward her. Trying to soothe with quiet words and gentle strokes. The child’s dark hair mirrored its mother’s, they looked very much alike to Shawn. He noticed the subtle familial resemblances between the two of them.

“Quiet Kaylee, hush now darling. Everything is going to be okay, shush baby please.” The mother’s voice was sweet and loving, slightly louder than a whisper but loud enough to hear the heart felt tenderness she felt for her child.

Just that sound touched Shawn’s heart and reminded him of his own sister the quiet loving words that they had once shared when they were upset or hurt, it made his heart ache to think she was gone, snatched away too soon.

The father was on his feet and in front of his wife and child in an instant. A look of mixed anger and fear across his handsome features, his dark eyebrows furrowed in a harsh scowl which was softened somewhat by his light hazel eyes that looked like they weren’t meant to look angry.

“Keep your hands where I can see them.” Shawn’s voice was level and loud; he felt confident and calm, he knew why he was here, he knew what he was doing, he knew what he believed.



Arnold followed, rifle barrel up covering the rest of the room clearing it of any possible threat. Once this was done he turned and stood next to Shawn. The father was standing in front of his family. He smirked; he was always amused when rebels did their ‘human shield’ thing. It made him feel powerful once they fell, no powerful wasn’t the right word. Invincible that was it, on one could touch him then.He lived for the moments when he was unbeatable; those precious few hours after a raid were the best of his life.

“Present your arm for PMH testing, you have five seconds to comply sir” Shawn’s voice always grated on Arnold. He was way too soft on these rebels that would be his downfall in Arnold’s opinion.

The man reluctantly rolled up his sleeve and presented his forearm to Shawn.
Arnold stepped forward and removed the sampling kit from its attachment on his belt, and approached the man’s outstretched arm letting his rifle hang from his shoulder by its strap.

His tanned skin felt hot and dry under Arnold’s thick calloused fingers, which roughly closed around the man’s wrist.

“State your name and occupation please sir. You have five seconds to comply.” Shawn’s voice was collected; he knew what he was doing.

“Chris Hawkins, I’m a Pharmacist.” Chris tried to fill every syllable with contempt. He felt violated, these ‘officers’ were terrorising them, no wonder they were called "Dealers", he knew PMH was in his best interest that’s why he took it, and there was no need for this at all.

Arnold pressed the syringe against the crook of Chris’s arm, pierced the skin and began drawing blood into a plastic ampoule.

“You do know Sir, that it is a Class One offence to work as a Pharmacist, Doctors Aid, Nurse/ Medical Personnel if you are not taking polymethylhydrate. Punishment for such and offence is immediate dismissal from the work place and a minimum of ten years in a state facility.” Arnold’s voice was low barely more than a sigh; but everyone in the room heard it. He hated himself for even stooping to call this scum sir.

When he had drawn enough blood, Arnold removed the needle roughly from Chris’ arm; he watched for a second as the blood filled the crook of his arm and then dripped on the floor, only then did he press a cotton wool ball to the hole.

“Put pressure on that please sir.” There it was a gain, that hateful word, and here he was publicly debasing himself by saying it. Arnold took the sealed ampoule from the syringe and deposited the needle back into the sampling kit; he would dispose of that when he got back to the centre.

“Whoops, good thing these are made of plastic.” The vial of blood had slipped between his thick fingers and had hit the floor with a small clatter and rolled a little way behind him.

He turned around and dropped to one knee, while his hands were out of sight he quickly slipped a second vial out of the small leather holder in the top of his right boot and replaced it with the vial filled with Chris’ blood. He’d wanted to do this ever since he first snuck a testing kit home with him.

This was payback for everyone whom he had had to call sir. God how he hated that word, God how he hated those people, and by his hand under God and sonny Jesus he would make as may of them pay as possible.

“Sorry about that sir, I’m not normally this clumsy.” His voice didn’t betray even one iota of the hatred he felt inside.

Arnold then deftly slipped the palm top test out of its holster attached to his belt and held it in the palm of his right hand, his left hand still clutching the vial of blood.

“Okay this will only take a second sir.” He slipped the vial into the circular hole on the left of the device, until it clicked and a green led lit up on the tiny console. The testing units had been designed so that even idiots could understand the results; one green light meant the test had started. Two green lights meant the suspect had polymethylhydrate in their system. One green light one red light meant the suspect didn’t have polymethyhydrate in their system.

It was strange to think that this little black square inspired so much terror in people.

The tester began making a series of high-pitched clicks, just on the edge of human hearing. You could feel them more then you could hear them, they felt like an itch in the middle of your brain; and itch you couldn’t scratch. Arnold didn’t mind them, he didn’t mind the itching in the middle of his head and he loved the way they seemed to cause agony to dogs.

Their whining first offset by the sound then harmonising with it in a crescendo of symphonic misery. When it came to pain Arnold was an artist.

The little palm top tester suddenly let out a shrill beep that made everyone but Arnold wince, and an instant after that the red light flashed into life. The test had come back negative.

The little girl squealed, and buried her face against her mother’s chest, her tears staining the top a deeper shade of blue. The mothers dark blue eyes showed nothing but a mixture of hate and fear at the intruders. Her jean-clad legs were tucked up beneath her pulling the material taut against the contours of her shapely form.

Arnold cast and appraising eye over her figure; he was making plans and his mouth was already watering with anticipation. He felt stirrings in his groin, he was going to indulge his urges the second he got his chance.

“What did that beep mean? Is the test finished?” Asked Chris his voice was infused with an odd combination of fear and anger. “Now that it’s shown I’m a Law abiding citizen, I will ask you to leave my home. You have terrorized my daughter and wife enough already for one night.” He tuned to walk away signalling to his family to do the same.

“Sir stay where you are! You have tested negative for polymethylhydrate, and by doing so you have also committed a class one offence. Stay where you are you have five seconds to comply.” Arnold’s voice cut across the silence like a knife.

“Chris no!” The woman’s voice was light and harmonious like a light breeze. It as tinged and tainted with and edge of sadness and worry.

“Sam I swear to you, I didn’t do this. There has to be some kind of mistake.” His voice was ravaged with desperation and his brown eyes were pleading silently with his wife.

Arnold was drinking in every second of this; he was in heaven. Despair, sorrow and fear. He loved them like children and savoured them like fine wines.

“The probability of a PMH test giving a correct answer is 97.9% overall.” Shawn said, his voice slicing through the tension he had felt mounting.

Arnold glared at him; this damn idiot was ruining everything. He could feel all those lovely little scraps of hopelessness and fear evaporating. Why was he comforting this scum? With some effort he pushed this thought to the back of his mind, it didn’t matter; at least not yet. This question would be answered later. Now this situation needed to have a resolution, one that was to his liking.

“Sir, please calm down. We will have to take you into custody for at least twelve hours before another test can be administered. Standard health and safety regulations for blood testing.” Shawn had adopted a placating tone in his voice that made Arnold’s blood boil. Although the rookie had just got him out of a tight spot with the retesting issues, he hadn’t thought to bring two vials of negative blood with him. Yet somehow that made it worse.

The discussion was suddenly broken up by the clomp of heavy boot coming down the stair and hallway. As another member of the Squad the Arnold recognised as Andy Palmer pushed open the door.

Palmer was an impressive figure dressed all in navy blue. A six-foot wall of a man, his wide shoulders gently pulling the fabric taut along his expansive chest. His face was blank and unreadable, his eyes dark under stray black hairs that had escaped the pony tail from which they were normally confined.

“No other people in the house sir.” He was well spoken and his voice was soft and reassuring, not what many people expected from his stature, which had earned him the nickname of ‘Gentle Ben’, which was a joke about his size more than anything else.

“Very good Palmer; prep the van we have a negative reading on a tester.” Instructed Arnold his voice cold and callous.

“Please don’t, don’t take Chris. There’s got to be something you can do please!” The woman’s voice was shaky, and her eyes were watering. Her dark blue eyes lightening as the first tears spilled down her soft cheeks.

“Sir hands behind your back please. We are arresting you on suspicion of a Class One offence. You have five seconds to comply.” Shawn’s voice was grating on Arnold’s nerves.

“O’Connor go make sure everything is ready. While I tie up the loose ends, let him say goodbye and such.” It made him feel sick to even act like this, he felt dirty all over.

“Okay see you outside in five sir.” Shawn turned and left the rest of the squad followed him. They all seemed happy to Arnold; well why shouldn’t they be happy? Another successful raid, Intel has got it right again.

“Chris.” Sam’s voice was quiet as she rushed to her husband and embraced him.

“Don’t worry it’ll all be sorted in twelve hours, you’ll see.” His voice was brimming with confidence although his eyes remained unsure.

“Daddy?” The little girl’s voice was barely more than a whisper, and still she sounded on the verge of more tears. As she ran to hug her father the pale light from the television was reflected off of the still wet tracks her tears had made down her unblemished cheeks.

“Kaylee, don’t worry baby daddy will be fine.” His voice was low and soothing.

“But Daddy; who’s going to read me my bedtime story?” Her voice returned to that sulky yet sleepy tone that only young children could achieve. Chris felt upset to see how much his little girl was going to miss him.

“Mummy will do it of course. Did you think Mummy would forget about her little baby bunny’s bedtime story?” He smiled as the child giggled. She had always found that nickname funny.

Later on he would remember this moment with a longing that is born of despair and pain.