The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon) novel Chapter 77

Thalia’s

I kept biting my nails in anticipation because Brandon’s men were taking longer than I had expected. The ambulance rushed her to a hospital where Brandon had no cameras so we were blind and only had to rely on sending people on the ground.

“Maybe she is dead. What if she is dead? Does it mean we killed her?” I inquired.

“She was still breathing, probably she fainted because of the ugly tight dress,” Brandon replied. I turned to face him, he could barely keep his eyes open, he was so tired and needed to sleep. Nestor got up and switched off all the equipment. “Time to sleep,” he declared like he was our father.

“Come on, we have to find out if she is dead or alive,” Brandon protested.

“We will find out tomorrow,” Nestor added.

Brandon looked at him p*ssed, as he began putting away everything. He was right, Brandon needed to rest, we had already accomplished what we set forward and it was time to watch how they were going to self-destruct.

I took out my pajamas while Nestor said good night. He usually slept in the garage like a guard watching over my project or something. Brandon assumed he slept in the boat but never asked him. He was initially offered one of the rooms but he refused to sleep in sex dungeons even though the rooms were never operational.

I began changing but noticed that the room was too quiet, I turned hoping he was asleep but found him wide awake staring at my butt. “I thought you were dozing a minute ago,” I asked.

“Your ugly fat butt distracted my sweet dreams,” he replied.

“p*rvert,” I shouted and rolled my eyes. I finished up and joined him. “Do you want a snuggle?” I asked and moved near him before setting my usual alarm. Tomorrow was the big day for testing my subject. I wished him good night and closed my eyes.

Morning came and I quickly washed up and ran to the garage before he woke up. I found Nestor had already started the station. He had learned one or two things by spending time with me. He was very eager and couldn’t wait. I put on my lab coat and began recording the process. I began with injecting the monkey with the infected cells while I kept a close eye as I awaited replication.

I wanted the subject’s body to have the same environment as Brandon’s so I injected it with artificial cells similar to Brandon’s infection. But only a few minutes in, the Monkey began convulsing before I could even plug the machine in. I quickly took a sample and analyzed it, to my shock all the cells were dead in minutes.

I had anticipated the reaction, considering the difference in makeup but it was too fast. “s*it!” I yelled, another setback.

“Try another monkey?” Nestor suggested.

“The results will still be the same, the human body can handle the infected cells way longer than a monkey,” I replied.

“Then try me, I can survive it, I will not be as weak as Brandon,” he suggested without a second thought.

I looked up at him, he definitely had no idea what he was volunteering for. Maggie would never forgive me, Brandon wouldn’t forgive me either. I cleared my throat and asked him if he understood what he was asking. He quickly nodded.

“Nestor, this is like volunteering to get infected with AIDS and am saying AiDS instead of HIV because AIDs is the stage where your body can no longer fight ant disease and it is difficult to accept any treatment,” I stated in a serious tone. He tried to protest but I stopped him.

“Don’t you ever ask me to trade your life for Brandon, I would never. Brandon has already accepted his fate and this here is just me trying something to stop that fate,” I made it m and concentrated my eyes on the monkey. I quickly covered him up and began thinking. Getting any form of an animal infected was out of the question. There was a probability of trying out other cancers but how could I test for a disease without the actual disease,  I thought to myself.

I looked at the clock and it was already 7 am. “Brandon will probably be awake, go make him breakfast or something,” I ordered.

“But you still need me here,” he replied.

I will call you when I need you,” I replied. He stared at me and noted my seriousness. I was not pleased with his suggestion, I had no idea whether he was testing me but I felt insulted. He probably thought I did not care about him and I would risk his life to save Brandon. He walked out and I took a seat thinking of my next step.

I had no time to dilute the infected cells, making them more adaptable for the test subject, which would take months. Months that Brandon did not have. There was only one option left, test the machine with a monkey that is not infected. That would only test the machine but not if the cells could be filtered.

I was back to my first experiment with the rats but I had no option. With each day Brandon looked so tired as if he was being forced to hang on.