Strange Blood Page #4

in my assumption of ELA's

new evolutionary step.

Fluid retrieved from the... new growth

was amniotic in nature.

Damn quills,

not a defense mechanism,

as I had hastily presumed,

rather a type of genitalia,

meant to deliver its offspring

into a secondary host body.

Me.

Baxter.

By all accounts,

I should be dying of 13 different

incurable illnesses right now.

Intelligent design dictates that anything

less than the complete form

wouldn't work at all.

It'd be so detrimental to the organ

that it wouldn't survive the process

of natural selection.

That makes you the anomaly.

"Methinks we have hugely mistaken

this matter of Life and Death.

Methinks what they call

my shadow here on earth...

is my true substance.

In fact, take my body who will.

It's not me."

Hello.

Hey, how come I'm locked out?

Gemma?

What... What time is it?

I know. I know. I'm late. It's...

It's after 10:
00.

Traffic was a b*tch this morning.

Late? No, you're...

You're far too early.

What are you...

Come back later. Tonight.

Come on. Let me in, Doc.

What the hell was the deal this morning?

Do a little remodeling while I was gone?

The lab was too bright.

It was too sterile.

Which is the point, no?

Science isn't meant to be constrained,

to be confined to a pristine environment.

It's an organic thing, and it needs

- to live and breathe.

- Okay.

Don't they teach you anything

at that school?

You know, I don't know what the hell

has gotten into you lately,

but here.

Picked you that up before I knew

you were gonna turn into Dr. A**hole.

Gemma?

Let go of me!

I'm sorry.

I'm an idiot.

I'm sorry.

Open your gift... jerk.

Now...

you're the perfect...

mad scientist.

- I don't know what to say.

- "Thanks" would be a good start.

Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you.

What's the deal?

Baxter. They're spying on me.

Surely you saw them out there.

Are you okay?

I'm fine. I'm fine.

I'm better than fine.

You don't look fine.

Will you just sit down?

- How's your hand?

- F*** my hand!

Never mind.

Where is it?

Where is what?

The rest of the damn blood.

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- There's barely 10 pints in here.

And I specifically requested 40 pints.

They must have made a mistake

at the warehouse.

- I'll go back tomorrow and...

- And?

Are you trying to kill me?

I am trying to...

- You irresponsible child!

- ...to help you, to attempt to...

You know what? You're f***ing useless.

- Where are you going?

- F*** you, Doc.

I don't do bat-sh*t crazy.

Wait. Gemma?

- Gemma?

- Let go of me!

- Gemma!

- Get the f*** out of my way!

The anomalous becomes the singular,

becomes the natural.

The nature of the natural is burned down

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