Science Evolution: Class S

Chapter 3

Suzie hated working late, but when it came to working at the detention centre everyone made exceptions. The only thing she hated more than working late was florescent lighting, it gave her a headache that three aspirin barely managed to shift.

She was stood in front of the photocopier she had a mountain of documents to copy before the next shift arrived. The room was the same stark white that government buildings had to be. The only colour was on the notice board across from her; pinned to which was the date of the next staff night out.

The silence of the copy room was suddenly pierced by the shrill beep of the intercom. Suzie sighed, so much for a quiet evening copying files. She reached above the copier, her left hand grasping the intercom handset.

"Hello? This is detention centre 5. Suzie speaking how can I help?" Her voice was tainted with tiredness.

"Hey darlin', put the kettle on we'll be home in five minutes." She instantly recognised the voice as belonging to Andy Palmer. A slight smile crept onto her face at the thought of his deep chocolate brown eyes.

"Okay Andy. I'll see you in a couple of minutes. Do I need to bring the book in forms or not?" She was struggling to keep her voice composed. Why was it so hard to talk to him?

"Yes we've got a negative reading on a tester. So were going to need a room for one." Even through the intercom and its emotionless version of the human voice she could hear the sadness, or maybe she had imagined it. A wan smile crossed her lips, he always sounded sad when they brought another negative back.

He was different from the rest of them, the "Taskforce". What a stupid bunch of egomaniacs; Andy Palmer though he was different, so was Shawn O'Connor, they were both different. They didn't seem to fit into the normal profile that the taskforce seemed to use.

"Okay. I'll have holding one prepped for you." Her voice was light and breezy. As she replaced the handset back onto the white plastic intercom unit, she smiled as she thought of Andy's eyes.

Her thoughts turned again to the prodigious stack of paper work that still had to be done. It would have to wait until everything had calmed down again.

She picked up the handset from the intercom the flimsy plastic bending slightly in the grip. She jabbed several buttons with her thumb while sweeping her right hand through her long hair and waited for someone to answer at the other end.

After several seconds someone at the other end picked up. She didn't recognise the voice that greeted her but judging by the grogginess that the drawl was laced with, they weren't used to staying late on Saturday.

"Booking." The voice stated. "What can I do for you?" The voice defiantly belonged to a man and Suzie was trying hard to get her brain to connect to a name and face. She was failing miserably.

"Hello, this is Susan Portman, I need holding cell one prepped please; we have a team returning within the next five minutes." She wedged the receiver between her shoulder and her ear. With her hands free she scooped up the remaining files from on top of the copier.

"Roger that Portman, holding one will be set up in about twenty minutes. We're kind of full down here." He sounded grumpy.

"Okay, I'll pass that along, thanks." She hated being called by her surname only. It reminded her of her father the "Original Portman". That's what he had called himself, and now he was dead.


She moved the files to her right arm and rested them against her hip. With her left hand she quickly thumbed the disconnect button and entered the three digit code that would patch her through to the to the taskforces van. She really wished she could remember the booking clerks name; then this would feel less awkward.

"Taskforce van 5." Andy's voice was strangely comforting for her to hear.

"Hey Andy this is Suzie at detention five. Just a quick call to say that booking is full for the moment and it'll take twenty minutes to get you a holding cell." Because you guys are doing your job too well, she wanted to add but she knew that over the intercom it would lose most of its intended effect.

"Cheers for the heads up darlin', we'll still need you to come out and fill in the paperwork when we arrive. You remember what happened to squad three don't you." His voice was dark.

The whole squad three fiasco was almost legend now. They had caught to negatives preaching in an abandoned warehouse. They were brought back to centre three. The squad left them in the van without filling out the paperwork. The van had been left unattended for less than ten minutes.

When they had finished storing the equipment and disposing of the tester. The negatives had beaten the hell out of each other, and without security cameras in the vans no one knew what had happened.

Both the negatives claimed that the squad members had beaten them. That the tests were false, that it wasn't their blood that had been tested. With the testers destroyed as regulations state they should be.

The enquiry had been short but brutal. It was found that squad three were in the wrong. Not only were the negative released, but all the suspects that were in the warehouse were black listed as untouchable, unless other evidence pointed to them.

After that squad three had been disbanded, all the squad members were reassigned. It was hailed as a major victory for the resistance. Their first real victory, and with that everyone started to wonder about the dealers and the taskforce.

"Yeah, I'll be there no problem, see you soon." She replaced the handset back onto the intercom unit. She redistributed the colossal stack of files in her arms, turned and left the copy room first struggling to open and then close the door. After several seconds the light went out.

Suzie walked slowly down the deserted corridor, her black high heels click-clacking on the faded blue linoleum floor. The high walls were painted a strange light green that seemed to give the corridor a sense of openness and at the same instant an almost whelming sense of foreboding. Like some horrific event hand happened and the building had never quiet recovered. So it had sentenced the area to forever silence, complete unbreakable oppressive unyielding nothingness.

Whenever she walked down these hallways she was reminded of the field trip she had taken when she was 14. She had gone with her school to one of the old Nazi concentration camps. The second she had gotten off of the bus she had noticed something was wrong. It was quiet, eerily quiet.

She had later found out that apart from humans there were no living creatures within the grounds. All the birds diverted around the sites air space, there were no insects chirruping away the second you got through the main gate. It was as if nature itself was condemning the horrendous acts that had happened there.

That's what stuck in her mind whenever she walked down these halls, with the strange open foreboding green that she had come to think of as the colour of unlucky. Sometimes she wondered what was the horrible event that detention centre five had witnessed.

The only sounds that followed her were the high-pitched clicks of here high heels and the soft hum of the florescent lights overhead. There obviously weren't as many people working tonight as she thought. She counted herself lucky, after she filled out the forms it looked like being a quiet night.

Up a head the corridor separated at a cross roads, Suzie hurried round to the left. She passed doors and both sides paying no attention to any of them for her destination was at the end of the corridor. Where she struggled to turn the handle on the door the her right. A small silver plaque fixed slanted about two thirds of the way up the dark wooden door. It read Patient Records Office, in small neat letters.

With her arms burning she finally fumbled the door open. Almost spilling the stack of files as the door swung open. The smell that greeted her was the comforting dry dust of paper. She pushed the door closed behind her with a quick kick from her right foot. She staggered to her desk the muscles in her arms screaming and threatening to cramp.

The office was a tiny cube of a room, almost an afterthought to the blueprints of the original building. Two desks stood facing each other, creating a narrow strip of floor between them leading into the archive room.

The two desks were covered with piles of files that needed to be copied before the end of next week; which meant someone was going to be having a lot of late nights, but Simon Ridgeway wouldn't be having them.

Suzie had a slight surge of anger toward her office mate, but she had long ago came to expect that from Simon. The useless pillock.

She dumped the files on her desk and sat down heavily in her thinly padded chair. The tiny wheels giving out a pathetic squeak of resistance, she wished she had more time to rest but the squad was in bound and they needed to have the paperwork.

She reached out and opened her top right draw, and pulled out a stack of forms. Reluctantly she got out of her chair, her feet aching. Suzie wished she had chosen to wear her flat shoes.

She walked to the door and after pulling it open she glanced around the room one last time; counting the piles of folders and files spread out like a foreign mountain range. There eight peaks in total; they would be scaled one by one in time and when she'd finish then she could relax, standing atop an Everest of paper.

She flicked the lights off and pulled to door shut and quickly inserting her key, she locked the door with a quick turn of her wrist.

Susan turned away from the door depositing the key in her pocket, and hurried off toward the taskforce docking bay; navigating the buildings labyrinthine mesh of corridors and hallways.

She rushed through security doors swiping her I.D. badge viciously through the card readers that controlled the automatic doors between the detention centre and the treatment facility; where the public came for their weekly injections.

She felt hot and sticky in her dark suit, her trousers felt bonded to her skin. Her jacket felt constrictive and leaden; she wished she had left it in the office.

Why did I bring this anyway? She thought, it's the middle of summer and I'm wrapped up to the ears.

The air conditioning did nothing to stifle the heat.

Finally the entrance to the taskforce holding area, she hoped it would be cooler out there but she doubted it.

A faint smile surfaced on her pink lips, there was no trace of the lips gloss she had liberally applied that morning. Her mother had always told her she was lucky; never more than a hint of make up to accentuate her sensual eyes and plump full lips. Her skin had never really suffered from the teenage acne that had ruined so many of her friends' complexions.

That didn't happen anymore, not thanks to Class S. No more pizza faced teens with cracking vocals and glistening forehead; the faint whiff of anti-spot medication pervading around them like insect repellent. Now that had all changed thanks to Class S.

Suzie pushed open the door leading to the holding area and a blast of cool air greeted her; chilling the sweat that had formed on her forehead as she had raced to get there. The air had a slightly damp oily tang to it, the smell of parking garages and cleaners cupboards.

She walked over to the storage locker, the click of her high heels on the concrete floor echoed in the empty parking structure. Suzie leant up against the steel weapons locker; savouring the chill that was seeping into her hot tight muscles, soothing them and easing the stiffness in her neck that she hadn't noticed.

She moved her left hand to the back of her neck to help ease the tension and caught a ghostly sniff of the perfume she had used that morning. The sweet flowery scent made the vacant parking structure seem less formidable and imposing.

Slowly Suzie became aware of a low rumbling in the distance, it was the deep throaty growl of a heavy diesel engine.

Susan watched the behemilithic vehicle slow to a stop, no matter how many times she looked at one of the taskforces raid vans she always felt small, not just small. Small was an understatement, insignificant fitted better.

The front doors opened and several tall figures climbed down from the vehicle. She immediately recognised Andy Palmer and Shawn O'Connor. They stood out, because they were the only figures who weren't acting pleased with the results.

Andy also stood out because he was the tallest; his broad shoulders made him look like a walking section of wall.

Shawn was the smallest standing barely at Andy's shoulder; his compact form hid his startling intelligence and surprising reserves of strength and composure.

These two were the odd ones out of the group, so naturally they had become friends. Andy the gentle giant and Shawn the miniscule mastermind.



To Andy Susan looked beautiful in her dark trousers suit. The tight trousers enhanced her slim hips and waist; Andy let his eyes travel over her enjoying every nuance of her clothes. Where they clung revealing subtle hints as to what lay beneath. More importantly to Andy he noticed where her suit didn't cling and let his imagination fill the gaps with soft skin and sensual curves.

"See something you like big guy?" Shawn's voice seemed to come from a great distance; but it was enough for Andy to realise that he was obviously staring.

He turned to face the smaller man; he had come to think of over the last few weeks as his best friend. They had seen eye to eye from the start, they were the intellectual equivalent of identical twins. Andy suspected sometimes that he and Shawn often thought the same way.

Shawn's face had a faint smile on his thin lips. His dark blue eyes were filled with intelligence, which was tinted with caring, it was those eyes that no-body else seemed to understand, those complex eyes.

"Hmm, mayhap good buddy, mayhap. Come on lets get stripped." He smiled as the little man shrugged and ran his hands through his short light brown hair.

"Kay. Who's staying with Chris Hawkins?" Andy heard the tone of worry in Shawn's voice.

"Don't worry little buddy. Good old pig face is playing toy soldier this time." He turned and started to walk toward the worn steel storage locker, unfastening his protective vest as he went.

Suddenly he realised he was walking alone. He slowly turned and saw Shawn standing ten feet behind him.

"What?" Andy's deep voice echoed around the silent holding bay. Everyone had suddenly fell quiet.

Before anyone could say anything a siren went off, a red spinning warning light began painting the stark concrete walls a shocking scarlet in sequence. The wail resounding off of the bare concrete and echoing back becoming fractured and confusing.

Andy saw several squad members rush toward the rear of the van. Where the holding bay was, where Arnold and the negative were.

Off to his right he saw another squad member; he was huddled together with Susan. They had obviously been filling out the paperwork. Now though Susan looked shocked and the paperwork jockey looked confused. The papers fell from his limp hand; fluttering to the ground gracefully as shock overcame him.

He saw Shawn move with a speed and liquidity toward the rear of the van. His face contorted into a mask of anger.

Andy didn't know why Shawn would look angry. He didn't know why Shawn should be angry. His muscles unlocked and he was moving, faster than most would believe possible due to his size. He still couldn't catch Shawn; the smaller man was already at the holding bay doors at the back of the van.

Shawn's hands were grabbing the handles and twisting savagely. He yanked with a power that most of the team had never seen. The whole van pocked on it's axis, the suspension squeaking high pitched protests as the van swayed from side to side.

"The God damned doors are locked! What the hell is going on in there?" Shawn's voice was a mixture of anger and dismay.




The steel handles still felt cold in his stinging hands as he yanked the holding bay doors again. Knowing that there was no way of forcing the doors open now that the alarm was sounding.

The van was locked, an inescapable rolling fortress. With two inch thick tempered steel side panels and bulletproof glass. This vehicle was unstoppable; right down to the run on flat tires.

He felt the crowd of bodies around him and started to feel the familiar sensation of breathlessness. He felt locked in; the metallic tang of copper stung the back of his throat and made him gag.

Shawn's head was swimming; dizzy waves of grey clouding the edges of his vision, his heart beat thunderously in his ears. Sweat broke out on his forehead, yet his hands began to shake he felt cold all over, gooseflesh rippled down his arms.

He felt like ha was on the swell of the tide, the waves crashing him on the rocks. Except this time the rocks were a two and a half ton van and the waves were his colleagues.

Suddenly a voice sounded out over the wailing siren. Over the buzzing that had started in his ears while the grey was systematically engulfing his vision.

"Everyone get back, the doors can't open if there's bodies in the way." Andy's voice was repelling the waves of bodies.

The big man's hand was on his shoulder; he felt himself steadying. The buzzing first quieted the stopped. The banks of grey, which had been threatening to cover his vision, receded.

"The doors won't open Andy. They're locked. The whole van is locked down." Shawn's voice was shaky, his whole body felt loose and badly connected. He felt like a puppet whose strings were being cut one by one.

"What?" Andy's voice was a choked whisper. All of the colour drained out of his face and to Shawn he looked as bad as he himself felt.

Just as suddenly as it had started the siren cut out, the audible clicks as the deadbolts drew back unlocking the doors cut through the tension.

Now the dingy parking structure was ghostly quiet and amazingly seemed vastly empty. Devoid of life except the huddled bodies of the squad.

Shawn's whole body seemed to tense up again the slack shakiness replaced by what felt like live wires instead of nerves. He placed his hand on the handles. His palms sweating slightly. Slowly twisting the handles, he hauled the doors open; the well oiled hinges making no sound.

Everyone looked toward the opening doors, holding a collective breath. Shawn finally managed to get the doors open.

A look of horror darkened his features he sucked in a deep whistling breath.

"Someone get some medical attention!" The bellow ripped from his throat rebounding off of the walls. "He's hurt!"