Author’s note: I wrote this piece for a 1000-word flash fiction challenge in 2021. These challenges require you to write a piece of fiction, under 1000 words, in a prescribed genre and incorporating one word provided by the challenge team. All in 48 hours.
Genre: horror Word: computer lab
Trigger warning: animal testing
This is their purpose, he said.
Thunk.
They’re just animals; they don’t know what’s happening, he said.
Thunk.
She heaved another lifeless body from the stretcher and threw it into the pile in the kiln as the words he had spoken echoed in her head.
For a week now, Elizabeth had shown up to the graveyard shift at the lab. She needed the money to pay for her student loans and the nighttime work allowed her to go to classes and work her primary job during the day. Dr. Victor’s eyes were hollow and his voice sterile as he explained her duties on her first day.
Enter the day’s research data in the computers.
Dispose of the day’s research subjects in the crematory.
Prohibit unauthorized personnel from the lab and lock up after the janitorial staff leaves.
She paused for a moment of respectful solemnity, then latched the heavy door and opened the gas valves. Flames erupted.
The lab was tucked in a remote corner of campus. Tall oak trees hid the smoke from the burning flesh and bones at night and they muffled any cries and whimpers that may have escaped the brick building during the day.
She sighed heavily and went next door to the computer lab. The whir of the vacuum cleaner that was the soundtrack to her nightly ritual stopped and she heard the janitor pack up and leave the building. He never spoke. She was alone now.
Alone except for the remaining subjects next door. Mostly beagles, as they were the most trusting breed and least likely to put up a resistance. They had numbers, not names. Number Twenty-Seven immediately caught her eye that first day. Small, only a few months old, white and tan piebald fur, innocent brown eyes like a deer. As she paused in front of the cage, Twenty-Seven put a paw up to the wires and whimpered. She looked like Elizabeth’s childhood dog - a sweet soul that followed her everywhere, playing with her and her friends and providing nonjudgmental support during the trials of adolescence.
“Don’t look them in the eyes. Don’t get attached. They’re expendable,” Dr. Victor lectured.
After that first day, Elizabeth tried not to look at any of them and tried to block their whimpers from penetrating her heart. But out of the corner of her eye, she would glance at Twenty-Seven’s cage to see the colored dot on the tag hanging from it. Green meant not today. Red meant death. Every evening, their eyes would lock for a brief second and she could feel Twenty-Seven’s gaze follow her as she navigated her way to the computer lab.
Now, seven days later, Twenty-Seven was still green.
Elizabeth sat at the computer and picked up the first clipboard of data. She sighed as she thought about the money this job provided. How when she got her degree, she would be able to help animals. How her future actions would make up for her current complicity.
She glanced at the open document on her screen. The cursor hung at the end of a sentence she didn’t remember typing.
HELP US.
“Wow, I must be really tired,” she said aloud as she backspaced and continued copying the data from the clipboard.
The animals were used to test drugs intended for later human use, to see what side effects arose when used in exorbitant quantities. Sometimes nothing adverse happened. Other times they began pacing in circles, panting, gasping for breath as their hearts exploded. Regardless of the side effects, all subjects were exterminated and cremated. Animals that could have been released and allowed to live normal lives were mercilessly sentenced to death.
Elizabeth flipped to the last page on the clipboard, a schedule of tomorrow’s experiments. Her eyes widened as she registered the information. Two animals would be given a dose of the drug: Twenty-Seven and Twenty-Eight. Tomorrow, their tags would be red.
She pushed back from the computer. Her heart pounded and her mind raced to find a solution, a way to prevent those beautiful creatures from being tortured.
She ran to the holding room, her arrival causing the animals to stir in their cages. She looked around at all of them but couldn’t find Twenty-Eight. There were at least fifteen dogs as well as tanks of mice and rabbits. They all seemed to stare at her, their only hope to avoid pain and death.
Elizabeth approached the cage and Twenty-Seven hunched forward to greet her. For the first time, she realized the cage was so small that the dog could not stand nor sit up. A wet nose pressed against the wire, and she put her hand up to it. She could feel the warm breath and a slight tickle of whiskers.
The same code unlocked all the cages. Dr. Victor had not shared it, but she saw the code on some of the paperwork she processed. She twisted the dials with shaking fingers and glanced to the corners of the room where red camera eyes glared at her.
Her breath quickened and she closed her eyes to collect her thoughts. What am I doing? I need the money. I will be expelled from school. I could be arrested.
She opened her eyes and saw warmth, trust, and hope staring back at her. She twisted the dial and pulled on the lock. She swung the door open and Twenty-Seven crawled into her arms.
The other dogs began to bark, and she could hear a phone ringing in the distance. Holding the dog tightly against her chest, she grabbed her belongings from the computer lab and ran down the hallway toward the exit.
I’ll be ok; I’ll find a new job. This is the right thing to do.
She turned to lock the doors to the lab and could feel Twenty-Seven tense. As she pivoted around, Dr. Victor towered in front of her. “Hello Twenty-Eight.”
Behind the Scenes
Horror?! I don’t write horror.
Those were my thoughts when I got this flash fiction assignment from the challenge team. How was I going to write this in 48 hours?
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