The Alpha’s Dirty Little Secret
Victor stopped in front of the first row of vats.
"What the hell is this?" Zack whispered, his rifle dropping an inch.
Rows upon rows of glass cylinders filled the room. Inside each one, suspended in a pale green fluid, was a woman. They all had the same hair. The same jawline. The same arched brows.
"They’re Elodie," Victor breathed, his stomach turning.
He moved to the nearest vat. The thing inside was a mess. One side of its face was missing, replaced by a mass of grey, tumorous flesh. Its hands were webbed, its eyes milky and sightless. It was a failed copy. A mindless, biological scrap.