Mordecai gradually woke from his sleep. His leg was in a tight metal brace fitted with a layer of bandages and leather straps. A man in an indigo suit with white stripes and cream-colored spats was smoking a large cigar in the seat across from his bed, his oak-like legs crossed over each other.
"This setback is going to cost you, Mallard." The man coughed out a cloud of smoke, pulling back a cigar. His voice sounded like nails scraping the concrete from his heavy use of cigars. He looked so ancient it was a wonder he hadn't died of lung cancer.
Mordecai sat up on the edge of the hospital bed, the gears of his brace creaking and groaning loudly as he bent his knees. "I'm so sorry, sir! Please, just a few more months, Ventura."
He slowly brought the cigar to his mouth, taking a deep breath of the intoxicating substance, its end glowing red like a devil's eyes. "You have three weeks, Mallard."
Ventura was not a patient man at all, nor was he a man to forgive such setbacks, even minor ones. Mordecai was lucky that Ventura absolutely needed him in order to get his hands on PROJECT MORTUUS. Otherwise, he would have shot Mordecai the moment he noticed his charred and barely conscious body on the lab floor.
Ventura stood up with a loud groan and left the room, slamming the hospital room door behind him. His cap toe oxford's clicking loudly on the hospital's tile floor. As Ventura left, Mordecai could hear a gunshot just outside his room. The blood of an innocent bystander was left as a final warning. Ventura always left a dead body wherever he went; it was his calling card.
"Alejandro Ventura." Mordecai sighed and stared down at his sore palm; the lidocaine was finally wearing off. The mark on his palm was clear. That coin burn was a sign that he would die if he didn't finish Project Mortuus.
Mordecai stood up, his brace creaking as he hobbled to a window that was beside his bed. He looked out, resting his hand on the window sill. "I'm so sorry, Crater Hollow. We didn't know what we were doing."
Mordecai was only seventeen when he made the mistake of trusting Ventura. It was a mistake, and he vowed never to do it again, but promises are a hard thing to keep in Crater Hollow. Young Mordecai needed the money, and Ventura offered him two billion. All he had to do was make the project work. Now, at the age of thirty-four, he couldn't regret anything more than that fateful day.
A tear slowly rolled down his cheek and dripped onto his brace. Mordecai was never a bad guy. He was just too trusting, and Ventura used him, but it isn't so easy to prove you are not a villain when you're connected to people like Alejandro Ventura. He walked down the hall with a wooden cane. It, too, had a coin burn. His caliper complained with each step he made to Morris's house.
Mordecai lifted his cane and tapped on the door, each movement painful. Maria and Peter answered. When Peter noticed the burned coin mark on Mordecai's cane, he turned to Maria.
"Um... Why don't you go enjoy that new book I got you while I help Mordecai?" Peter turned back to Mordecai as Maria walked to her room. She knew it would probably be for the best if Peter were so apprehensive.
"Dr. Mallard, what happened?" Peter asked, helping his exhausted friend onto a chair. Mordecai quietly showed Peter the mark of Ventura on his palm. A symbol that Peter knew all too well.
"You're in danger, Peter. We all are," he said with fear in his voice. "I never should have done that."
Peter knew immediately that Mordecai had used the machine he had seen in the PROJECT MORTUUS files. It was clear to him that the machine had gone very wrong, and now Ventura wanted either his money or a successful test subject.
They both stood there in silence, neither one brave enough to speak what they were thinking- not that saying it would have made any difference. The silence was finally broken when Mr. Morris stumbled in through the door. His eyes seemed glazed over and vacant.
Mordecai started to sweat with fear as he noticed that same hollow expression of Subject E-3 in Mr. Morris. Whoever that was in his body was clearly not the same man. Mordecai stood up, leaning on his cane as his caliper creaked. "I'm sorry, Michael. I... I was just leaving."
Peter looked down at his phone as it vibrated. It was a text from Mordecai. "Keep away from Michael."
It was a short message but abundantly clear. Mr. Morris was Subject E-4, the newest one, and he was not a successful subject.
Peter looked at Maria as she entered the room again and smiled nervously. "Um... I think we have that astronomy project. We... We should go stargazing."
Maria nodded and put her arm around Peter's. Why was he so nervous? "We should, Red." Maria smiled.
Mr. Morris stood poker-faced before walking up the stairs like he was in a trance. Maria and Peter looked at each other. "What's up with my dad, Red?" Maria asked with a worried look.
He hesitated a minute, unsure whether he should lie or tell her the truth. On the one hand, she has the right to know that her father is gone, but on the other, there's comfort in not knowing. Peter shrugged, deciding it was best she didn't know. "I'm sure he's just stressed from work."
Maria accepted that answer. After all, why would he lie to her about that if he knew why? Plus, Mr. Morris had always been under a lot of stress as a single father, and now more than ever, because the anniversary of Mrs. Morris's death was just around the corner.
Maria smiled at Peter, "So where are we going stargazing, Red?"
Peter smirked, "I think I know a place."
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