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    Caleb Keller walked through the front doors of Polygon Pharmaceuticals shortly after sunset, slightly hunched from the weight of the heavy textbooks he carried in the tan backpack that was slung over his shoulder. He was dressed in his light blue short-sleeved security guard uniform, which substituted a nametag in place of a badge.

    Because of the sensitive nature of the equipment that was housed in certain areas of the building, he carried no side arm in case of an accidental discharge. Instead, he was armed only with a two foot long extendable baton with which he had received a full three hour course of instruction when he had been hired, two months earlier.

    As he crossed the threshold into the front lobby, the small beads of sweat that had sprung up so quickly on his forehead, cooled and dried nearly immediately. The chilled air had a faint metallic taste to it, from the constant recycling of the ventilation. In the background, a faint hum could be felt more than heard, from the powerful environmental sysetm trying to keep the temperature and humidity at the desired level. Sometimes, it seemed as if the building was a living, breathing entity and that the low sound was its' heartbeat. One could almost imagine that the doctors and scientists who ran about the building during the day were solely occupied in maintaining the massive creatures' existence, instead of finding a cure for the latest illness.

    Caleb greeted Doreen, the front receptionist, as she was on her way out. As she passed, the faint smell of ginger reached his nostrils. Although she had to be no more than fifty, the scent always reminded Caleb of the elderly. Specifically, his grandmother and the many happy days when they had made ginger bread houses together in her cozy kitchen. This particular aroma of ginger, however, came from the flavored cigarettes that Doreen smoked regularly on her breaks.

     Calebs' grandmother would never dream of inhaling any tobacco smoke. She insisted that the devil used it to lure good christian men and women to an early grave. This philosophy, however, did not deter her from consuming a can of old fashioned snuff every week. When asked about that, she replied that it was good for her sinuses and surely ole' Lucifer would be interested in an old woman like her.

    "Take care, Sweetie," Doreen said as she left.

    "You too," he said as he crossed the wide lobby and entered the small corner office that housed the desk and colored TV monitors that would be his home for the next twelve hours. It was positioned directly across from the elevators, so that anyone who went up or down could be easily observed. The monitors were high definition and could be controlled remotely to scan in a full 360 degree radius, from a small control panel. There was a compact refrigerator in the corner that stored a variety of half-eaten sandwiches and other partially consumed lunches, in various states of edibility.

    "How's it going Jeff," Caleb greeted the older security guard with a smile as he sat his books down in the corner. "Anything to report?"

    "Not much. Paul called in sick again so I'll be relieving you in the morning. We had a fire drill a few hours ago, so that was a thrill a minute. Aside from that, nothing new."  Jeff Putnam had been a security guard for Polygon Pharmaceuticals since he retired from the Walter Valley Police Department six years ago. Although he still kept his hair trimmed short in the classic law enforcement style, he was beginning to relax a bit in his older years and his growing waistline affirmed to that fact.

    He had been a street Sergeant for almost 7 years past the date when he was eligible to retire, and had still pursued his duties with a vigor that was scarcely matched by even the incoming rookies. It all came to an end, however, when he was cornered by a new administration seeking to bring in "fresh perspectives on the supervisory level."  He could either take his pension or take a desk job. Jeff had his retirement papers signed, given the new chief the finger, and had been out of the building inside of ten minutes. Two months later, he was the rookie security guard at the lab.

    When asked about his decision to work again, he had factually quoted the old saying that retirement was the number one killer of police officers. He had no intention of letting cobwebs grow under his feet. Caleb had to respect that philosophy, seeing as how his own father lived by a very similar motto himself. He only hoped that he had as much life in him when he was pushing 60.

    "All right then. See you in the morning," Caleb said sitting down in the seat that Jeff had just vacated and opening his first text book.

    "Oh, there is one more thing I thought I should mention."  Caleb looked up. "A couple hours ago, just before the fire drill, there were three fellas that came in here. They were dressed in identical gray suits and walked like they had the worlds largest stick stuck up their keesters. They came right up to Doreen and asked her for a tour of the building. When she told 'em that we only do tours by appointment, they got kinda aggitated. Not violent or anything. The one in front just kept saying that they need a tour and that it was, how did he put it....."Mandatory."

    "What did they look like."

    "Well they all looked pretty much the same. Just some minor differences in the facial features. They were about thirty years old, black hair, maybe six feet tall, weighed about a buck 90 or so. Only the one guy did the talking. The other two stood behind him with their hands in their pockets, like they were waiting for something. But the weirdest thing was that as soon as they saw me come around that corner and step into view, he just stopped in mid-sentence and they all just walked out as calmly as anything. I think they were foreign."  Depsite all of his life experience, Jeff Putnam was not a well traveled man and described anything or anyong that seemed out of place as foreign.

    "I'll keep an eye out."  Jeff nodded, wished him a good night and exited out the front door. Caleb fished a soda out of his backpack and settled in to study.

    He had been fortunate to get the job at Polygon. Several other college students had applied, but because of his prior experience as a bouncer back home, he had snagged the job. He only had to work on the weekends, as Jeff and Paul usually carried the place throughout the week. His duties allowed him plenty of time to study while at the same time putting a decent amount of spending money in his pocket. He kept a glancing eye on the two rows of TV monitors in front of him, which kept constant surveillance of the major hallways of the three story building, and he was required to check the place personally once every two hours to make sure that nothing was amiss. It never was. As far as Caleb knew, there wasn't any history of so much as a disgruntled employee vandalising the restrooms. He suspected that a security guard was only maintained as part of some Federal regulation.

    Shifting anxiously in his seat, Caleb glanced at the digital clock on the wall and pretended to study while waiting for the best part of his Friday evening to begin. The words in the textbook blurred together until at last he gave up and stared at the blank margins, while wild fantasies played out in his head. As the clock counted towards nine p.m. with agonizing slowness, Caleb could feel his heart rate quicken slightly and his face started to feel warm in the air-conditioned office. He looked over his uniform for the third time that evening and checked his reflection in one of the blank monitors to make sure that his short brown hair was in place. He was not usually a terribly vain person, but he had a reason for these actions, and that reason usualy left the building at nine sharp.

    Finally, after an eternity spanning the length of two hours, the elevator doors opened with a slight ding and out stepped Dr. Patricia Hatford. She was dressed in her usual white lab coat and her golden hair was restrained neatly in a ponytail that cascaded down to her shoulders. Her slender frame moved with grace and ease as she stepped out of the lift and smiled brightly as Caleb stood up to greet her. He smiled too, although he wasn't consciously aware of it. He was, however, aware that the throbbing in his chest now resembled the percussion section of an orchestra holding auditions and he felt sure that she could see his plastic nametag bouncing in rhythm to the crescendo. If she did, she didn't say anything, which hurt almost as bad.

    "Hey Big Guy. Ready to walk a defenseless damsel through the cold dark parking lot?"

    "Do you have one in mind?" he quipped as he fell into stride beside of her. The sweet smell of her perfume was almost intoxicating as it caressed his senses. Although he wasn't on a personal level with Patricia, much to his regret, he had noticed from their first meeting that he blue eyes held back a sort of cool fire which made him doubt very seriously that she would be completely defenseless if the chips were ever down. They seemed to sparkle of their own accord, even when there wasn't sufficient light present to create such an effect. Her confidence in the way that she handled everything around her, particularly him, indicated that she would never be a victim of circumstance.  She was in control of her own destiny.

    He swiped his security card at the front door and opened it with a flourish, allowing her to pass.

    "SUch a gentleman," she said with that same dazzling smile that made him feel as if he needed protective eye wear to look at it safely. Together they stepped into the empty parking lot and began walking towards her car at the far end. The lack of movement of any kind created an illusion of isolation that could be at once charming and chilling. The heat from the early July evening hit both of them like a brick wall, as the heavy humidity seeped into their pores. The sharp contrast from the artificially cooled lobby made them feel as if they were suffocating for a moment. The pale glare from the streetlights prevented any stars from being visible, even on the clearest of nights. Although a pale moon could be seen rising in the distance.

    As soon as the reinforced glass door shut behind them with an ominous click, Caleb felt a sudden apprehension in the base of his spine that quickly worked its way up to the mid-point of his back. Despite the humid air, he had to suppress a shiver as its icy fingers crawled up to the bask of his neck. At first, he couldn't put his finger on what had given hum such an uneasy feeling. He was prepared to contribute any such abnormalities to the fact that he was in close proximity to the beautiful doctor. She seemed to cast a sort of spell around him that he found impossible to break. While he was normally a rather tight lipped person, except when around his close friends, she encouraged him to speak his thoughts without even saying a word. He strived for conversation with her on these lonely evening walks, as if he could slow the passage of time if he could only find the right words. The butterflies in his stomach grew to gargantuan proportions and wrecked havoc with his motor skills, language skills, and overall intelligence.

    This was something different though, and he scanned the parking lot with a wary eye, looking for any sign of danger. Patricia seemed to be doing the same thing, as if she had sensed that something was worng as well.

    With a start, Caleb realized what was wrong about this night. There was absolutely no sound. Polygon Pharmaceuticals was set about a mile off of the nearest highway, with a curving driveway that led to the front and rear parking lots. Surrounding the complex on all sides, except for this narrow path, was thick forest undergrowth which had to be constantly beaten back by the groundskeeper as it tried to reclaim the territory that it had held for countless centuries. The huge insect population used the night to feed and mate, and usually anyone talking had to raise their voice to be heard above all the clamour. Tonight, however, there was a hush over the entire area. It was as if a predator had intruded on the personal space of every living creature in the forest, and they held their breath anxiously as they anticipated the departure of the unseen hunter.

    Patricia must have noticed it too because she started walking at a quicker pace than normal, and already had her keys in her hand. Caleb walked with her, but decided to try to enjoy the few minutes that they had to spend together.

    "How's work going?" he asked in a slightly hushed voice as he attempted to spark a conversation.

    "Not too bad. These long hours are starting to take their toll on me though. I'm glad I have a vacation coming up. This time next month, I'll be at the beach."  A vision of a scantily clad Dr. Hatford sunbathing on an empty beach came unbidden to Caleb's mind and he had a wild urge to ask if he could come with her. "How's school?" she asked.

    "I have mid-terms next week. And I think that my biology professor is the direct spawn of the devil, maybe even a succubus. But otherwise, pretty good."  Patricia giggled a little at that comment, although the silent air continued to feel oppressive and heavy.

    "I had the same hell-spawn theory about my physics professor. Maybe we should introduce them."  Caleb shook his head.

    "Can you imagine the devastation that they would cause if they were to unite their powers?  It would be catastrophic."  This time he was rewarded by an outright laugh from the doctor as they finally reached her car. Although it was a fairly newer model Honda Civic, Caleb had always hated the sight of this accursed machine that would spirit Patricia away into the night. Its headlights were like a pair of eyes, mocking him as even it enjoyed a more intimate relationship with Patricia than he did. Tonight, however, he was slmost glad to see it. Soon, she would be safely on her way home, and he could retreat to the brightly-lit pharmaceutical lab with the thick reinforced doors and windows.

    The first impression that had come to his mind when he first saw Polygon Pharmaceuticals, was that of a fortress. The main building was constructed out of heavy concrete, with a wide base to keep its foundation secure. Some of the tests being conducted inside were so sensitive, that the slightest movement could hold disastrous consequences for weeks or even months of research. If there were ever a nuclear attack, that was the first place that he would go to survive the fallout.

    Out loud he said, "Your chariot awaits."  She thanked him with another one of those dazzling smiles and easily fitted her key into the door. It usually took Caleb two or three times to get his key to fit into the lock, and that was when he was sober. His parents had never accused him of being graceful. Nor had they attempted to rectify his epic clumsiness with ballet or other physical activity that required a great deal of fine motor development, for which he was infintely grateful.

    She started to open the car door, but was caught by surprise as a large hand reached over her shoulder and slammed it back into place. Caleb whirled to find himself face-to-face with three large men in gray suits. His hand instantly went to his baton that he carried in a leather holster on his right hip. His shock came from the fact that he had an unobstructed view of the lot in all directions for at least thirty yards, and yet these men had been able to get right up on both of them without being detected.

    He knew at once that these were the guys that Jeff had warned him about and he deftly extended his weapon with a downward strick, feeling it lock into place. The rubber handle fitted neatly into the countours of his palm and he hoped that the mere sight of the impact weapon would be enough to defuse a violent encounter, but he didn't bet on it. 

    Many times, while waiting for Patricia to exit the elevator and flash him one of those gorgous smiles, Caleb would entertain himself with vivid fantasies about what he would do if he were confronted with a dangerous situation while escorting her across the darkened parking lot. In those daydreams, a rapist or a mugger had been the villain and Caleb had always easily overpowered the would-be attacker with his baton or with a combination of martial arts techniques that he had seen in various movies. Patricia would inevitably be overcome with grattitude and would express it in different ways, depending on what level his mind happened to be on at the moment. In those scenarios, he was always cool and confident like the hero of any good action movie and had even allowed himself a clever pun or two before, during, or after the epic battle was over.

    Now, however, faced with real opponents, he found his tongue stuck in his throat and the baton in his hand seemed woefully inadequate. He wasn't overly large for his age. However, his broad shoulders and lean waist combined to form a frame that gave the impression of being "bruttish."  Although he didn't lift weights regularly, he could boast of a natrual god given strength that most people had to work for years to acquire.

    He was no stranger to a fight either. He had defended himself several times when he was bouncing in his senior year of high school. There, however, he was never faced with anything more serious than someone who had drunk themselves into a violent stupor, and he always had two or three bouncers of his own size or larger behind him for backup.

    This time, he was the one who was outnumbered, his opponents appeared to be stone cold sober, and he could tell that they meant business. No expression of any kind could be seen on any of the nearly identical faces that were palely illuminated by the dim streetlights. No nervous twitches or other signs of agitation could be detected. These guys were obvious professionals. Their black hair glistened with oil in the low light and the two in the back were so still that they could have passed for statues. The cold chill, which had been creeping up Calebs' back, now spread like icy fire through each limb and he had to concentrate so as not to drop his only weapon.

    "Patricia Hatford," the one in front said, "you will come with us."

    "Like hell I will!"  The mans' thick hand reached out to grab her by the left arm and, with strength made of cold stell, began to pull her towards him. That was enough for Caleb. With all his might, he brought the baton down on the extended arm and felt the vibration reverberate back through the padded handle. The impact was more than sufficient to cleanly break through the bone of any normal attacker and leave him incapacitated in pain. Caleb was amazed to see that his blow had dislodged the strangers hand, but that he was still on his feel with no visible expression of pain.

    Instead, the mans other hand shot straight out for Calebs' throat, with the very real intention of crushing his windpipe. Caleb deftly ducked under the mans' arm and, clasping his baton at both ends, used it to drive his full weight into the man, trying to knock him down. Maybe that will at least give us a head start, he thought.

    He would have had more success trying to move the asphalt that the man stood on. The attacker stepped back about two paces, causing Blake to hesitate in surprise. It was like the force of his shove had simply been absorbed and redistributed throughout the mans entire body. Perhaps he knew some kind of kung fu.

    During the brief altercation, the second man had leapt forward and efficiently pinned Patricia against her own car with one massive hand. Caleb was correct about her spirit though. She put up a terrific fight, complete with gouging eyes that didn't blinkg and delivering several knees to a groin that was apparently devoid of testacles.

    Caleb raised his baton like a baseball bat and decided to hit a home run with his attackers head, but was halted by the voice of the third man who, until now, had remained motionless with no sign of coming to the aid of his comrades.

    That's enough," he said coolly and Caleb saw that he was now holding a dark cylinder in his right hand and was pointing it at him as if it were a weapong. If it was, it was unlike any weapon that he had ever seen. It's probably just a flashlight, he decided. But best not to take any chances.

    "What's that?"

    In answer, the man pointed the object at Calebs still upraised baton and activated a hidden mechanism. Even in the dim light, he could see the air shimmer and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if her were receiving a slight electric shock. The sensation passed and he discovered that, in place of his trusty club, he was now holding a piece of molten slag with a rubber handle.

    He dropped the now useless weapon in surprise and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender that, he hoped, hadn't come too late to avoid the same fate for himself. The man that Caleb had attacked produced an identical weapon from an inner pocket of his jacket, and leveled it at the two captives as well.

    He could have fried me whenever he wanted to, Caleb realized with a sickening sensation. In fact, he still could. Patricia raised her hands also and was gently, but irresistibly pushed to Caleb's side. They were now in the center of the three strange men who had demonstrated superhuman resistance to pain as well as weapons unlike anything that they had seen before.

    "Just tell us what you want," Patricia said.

    "You will accompany us back to Polygon Pharmaceuticals. You will escort us to Research and Development lab one and Practical Applications lab four. If you attempt to resist in any way, you will lose a limb."  This is definetly not like in my daydreams, Caleb decided as they walked back towards the empty pharmaceutical lab. He had a sinking feeling that once inside, there would be no happy endings for anyone.

Keyword: hostile addictions scifi

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