Author: Amanda Todisco

Klaudia slit a perfectly straight line down the belly of a frog and cut the skin away from the muscle. She found comfort in the solitude afforded by the lab, the quiet precision of scissors, forceps, organs an ode to the recluse. It’d been 387 days since she entered the room—long enough for her to build up an immunity to the scent of animal cadavers and industrial cleaning products—and she had no plans to leave any time soon. They would not allow it, anyway.

Klaudia peered curiously at a little gray lung and prodded it with her probe.

“What’ve you found, Doctor 483Z?” Their loud voice echoed through the windowless room. A red light blinked on the camera in the corner.

“The lung,” she said, silently wishing for the 387th time that They’d use her real name. “It’s covered in micro pustules.”

“What does it mean?”

“I’m not sure. My guess is pneumonia.”

The sound of snapping bubblegum ricocheted off the walls. “A frog with a cough. Imagine that.”

She picked up the frog by its skinless leg, dropped it in the trash, and grabbed a rat from the pile. It lay flat on the pan as she readied the scalpel at its throat.

Its whiskers fluttered—

Eyes opened—

A tiny paw gripped the scalpel. “Don’t scream.”

She moved closer, noticing the scar on the rat’s forehead that continued to the back of its skull.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“I’m Doctor 483Y. We must leave this place immediately.”