Wickedly Crooked [Ch. 3]

2005. Sunny with scattered clouds. Bright. Leaves rustled with the wind, trees creaking and swaying. Under a small tree, stood a man. A man filled with anger and sadness. He is over two graves, staring down at them. One tombstone was in the shape of a cross, while the other one was rectangular.

Meghan Marie Cross

"A beloved daughter. May she rest peacefully"

September 22, 1997 - June 13, 2005

Addison Marie Shultz

"Mother. Wife. A Charismatic Friend. She now rests here"

February 3, 1987 - June 13, 2005

An excavator was behind him, its scoop resting on the lawn. Matthew stood there for another moment. Looking back over his shoulder, he simply nodded. That was the signal to the excavator operator to begin digging.

Approaching the graves slowly and cautiously, the bucket plowed into the ground. It scooped up its first load of dirt. Matthew took a couple of steps back from the excavator, taking his phone out of his pocket. The screen turned on by itself. The background wallpaper was a family picture. Himself, Addison, and Meghan.

Guilt. Upset. Heartbroken. Feeling more empty than ever. Memories and pictures were all he had left of them now. While he was still employed by Sahara Therapeutics, they discovered an ancient artifact. After studying its inner and outer workings, it was given a name: the Obelisk. Tests followed, starting out with small animals like raccoons, lizards, and rabbits. Those experiments were all a bust.

It was Matthew that suggested experimenting on humans; more specifically the natives to the island. If animals don't work, then humans must, right? No one will know until the theory is ruled out. The project remained top secret and classified. Only high-clearance officials had clearance to read the unredacted documents. Matthew was among those with high-security clearance.

THUD!

"Sir. Might want to take a look," the man told Matthew.

Matthew looked up away from his phone, turning his head to look over at the man. Slipping his phone back into his inner coat pocket. He walked over to Meghan's grave, peeking down into the 6ft deep hole. He had opened the top half of the coffin, leaving the bottom half-closed. Withered flowers, worms, and various other bugs inhabited the empty coffin. With Addison being buried next to the empty grave, these bugs must be attracted to her rotting flesh stench or something.

"Has this been dug up before?" Matthew questioned as he pointed down at the casket.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Cross," he answered, "this is the first. Hasn't been dug up since the funeral."

How could it be that the casket is empty? Where'd her body go? Is she still alive perhaps? These are questions that needed answers. His curious questions were starting to make him believe that Meghan is still alive; somewhere out there. If that was the case, where is she?

Later That Year…

4:30 a.m

Matthew was standing out on the boat deck of his yacht. His yacht was anchored in a small cove located on the northwestern side of the island. Accompanying him on the yacht was another man. His name is Armaan; a long time friend of Matthew Cross.

"It's going down fast," Matthew said as Armaan walked over to him. Matthew was using binoculars to get a better look at the sinking ship.

September 3, 2005 is the date. The time is 4:30a.m. The skies are clear, but have occasional cloud cover. It was a calm night, with the ocean being fairly cooperative with Matthew and Armaan's plans. After returning to the island after Sahara abandoned it, Matthew resumed experiments on human anatomy. With that, he needed test subjects.

With the alien-artifact disabled and destroyed by Sahara, Matthew had other ideas on how to get what he needed. Using the radio on his yacht, he communicated with passing ships. Tankers, Cruise ships, small fright ships, and even fishing boats.

Three miles off shore, there was an underwater reef. A rocky reef; a deadly threat to anything that floats.

"This is the S.S Wisconsin," a voice broadcasted over the frequency, "we've struck an underwater reef, listing dangerously to starboard. Requesting immediate assistance, over!"

Armaan looked down at the mobile radio. It was on the deck next to Matthew. As he was looking through the binoculars, Armaan kneeled down to grab the radio. As he reached out to grab it, Matthew pulled his pistol out of his holster; cocking the trigger.

"Don't!" Matthew said as he rested the barrel of the gun on Armaan's forehead. Armaan raised his hands and stood back up.

"This isn't what you told me we'd be doing," Armaan said, "this wasn't the deal."

Matthew sighed, lowering the gun and releasing the hammer and slide on the back of the gun. He put it back in the holster.

Present Day

Sahara Therapuetics Research Facility

"You're not going to get away with this," Natasha shouted from inside a containment room. She pounded on the glass wall and shouted repeatedly. But everything she did, Matthew ignored. The lights were on. Matthew was wearing his white lab coat, but it didn't have his last name on it. It was another person's last name.

The female cannibal Natasha had encountered earlier, hoisted an obliterated male body onto the metal table in the middle of the room. His insides were ripped out, his arms and legs missing, and his head flattened like a pancake.

Another cannibal, a tall muscular grey male, pushed a metal cart over to the side of the table where Matthew was standing. He turned around and clapped his hands once.

"Ahh, good. Thank you M," he said.

Natasha stood in place, staring out the glass wall at Matthew. She didn't know his true identity yet. She only knew him by what other people were calling him: the Red Man. The containment room she was in was dark and small. There was a bucket in the corner that reeked of urine and feces. Water was dripping from the ceiling. A puddle formed in the middle of the room because of that.

"Dr. Matthew Cross," a female voice said from somewhere in the room. Natasha turned around to see who had said that, but she couldn't see very well because of the dark. The only light penetrating the room was coming from the lab on the opposite side of the glass wall.

Blood spatter had covered the majority of the glass wall from the otherside. Streaks of dried blood ran down from ceiling to the floor. There wasn't much clear spaces to peek through. Chunks of intestines, and other flesh pieces stuck to the wall with the dried blood.

"Who–who said that?" Natasha asked, crossing her arms and squinting her eyes.

"Does it matter? We'll all be dead soon anyway," the woman said.

"What's your name?" Natasha asked.

The woman talking to Natasha scoffed. Sounds of bones cracking and joints popping were heard as the woman approached Natasha slowly. The closer she got, the clearer her physique got. Of average height and slender this woman was. Her head was crooked, her left eye missing. Her hair frizzly, poofy, and stiff. Her nose was gone, the bone visible for all to see.

Wearing just a dark blue tank-top, the woman wore no pants or undergarments. She was basically naked. Natasha took a step back, resting her back up against the wall.

"Please, don't come any closer!" Natasha begged.

"I won't bite," she responded, "I'm Vega."

Natasha sighed as she wiped sweat from forehead, cheeks and nose. The room was warm. Having no power meant air conditioning was unavailable. It wasn't just the room that was warm, it was warm throughout the entire facility.

"What the fuck!" Natasha shouted and gasped. "What… are you?"

Vega has four arms and legs, her skin a pale gray color. The front of her shirt was smothered in blood as was her face and arms. Unable to remain still, Vega continued to shake and twitch.

"Isn't it obvious?" Vega asked. "I'm just like them."

"Why are you locked in here?" Natasha asked.

Matthew looked down at the man's broken body. His muscles still leaving blood. As the blood spread on the table, it started dripping onto the floor. He was paying no attention to the chatter around him. Grabbing a heavy-duty saw, Matthew began hacking away at the man's neck. Seeing that the man's skull was smashed in, he would need to attach a new head to the body. One that's been stored in facility's in-house morgue.

THUD! The head had been chopped free of the body, falling to the floor. The witch sprinted on all four over to the smashed head, picking it up. SNIFF, SNIFF!

"No H!" Matthew said loudly. The witch froze, holding the skull in both her hands. Looking up at her master, he held his hand out.

"H! Hand it over!" He demanded in a frustrated tone of voice. She shook her head and took her first bite of the remains of the brain.

"H!" Matthew shouted, "NOW! I won't say it again."

"Mine!" She verbally responded. "Mine!"

Matthew sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "You'd make the perfect treat for the Worm. Is that what you want?"

She threw it back up to Matthew, turning around and running away from him on all four. She ran right past Virginia and Cowman, exiting the room in a hurry.

"Didn't think so!" Matthew mumbled quietly to himself.