Lycanthrope

by Robert Rootes

Book Opening:

Bill Stevens sat in the comfort of the security shack near the front gate of Bourne & Liggate Research Associates thinking about retirement—and other things, his feet resting on the countertop as they had for so many years.  Now that his thirty years at the facility would soon be over, he could plan on submitting his notice to personnel and the government retirement fund he’d paid into for three decades would finally start to pay off.  He’d seen a lot on the graveyard shift at Bourne & Liggate over the years, from the building expansion of the early ‘80s to the unavoidable downsizing and staff cuts of the late ‘90s.

The fire of ’98 hadn’t helped either, as they simply had not replaced those displaced from the inconvenience.  Through it all, he remained, steadfast, loyal, quietly doing his job—keeping strangers away from the premises and those inside safe to do whatever they did behind closed doors.

It was always a mystery as to what, exactly, “they” did, the doctors and nurses that is, inside the monstrous compound, behind the high block walls and electrified upper fencing.  Bill had stopped long ago concerning himself with things he couldn’t figure out.  In fact, it had been so long ago that he couldn’t remember when he had thought about it last.

NOTE: All material is copyright protected.  No portion of this material may be copied or reproduced, either electronically,  mechanically, or by any other means, for resale or distribution without the written consent of the author.  All copy has been dated and registered with the American Society of Authors and Writers.  Copyright 2007 by The Swetky Agency