A cold, dark, still night…not a soul to be seen. Perfect. No-one notices as Eddie slips into the shadows of the alleyway and heads for the concealed back entrance of the forbidding building known as Graywood Laboratories Incorporated. Looking up he notices that a light still burns brightly in the top, right-hand window as he had previously been informed. That meant naturally, that Professor Howard was working late again.

Inching into the doorway, it was only a matter of seconds before Eddie’s highly-skilled hands had masterfully picked open the lock, allowing him to gain access to the building’s grim interior. The security guards would be on their routine patrol by this time around the outer perimeter fence, which gave him approximately twenty-five minutes to do the job and get out. He grinned sadistically…this was going to be ‘easy money’.

Eddie crept stealthily through the elongated corridors of C-Block, his every step echoing resoundingly. His eyes peered through the eerie gloom until they registered the very thing he had been searching for. With a grim chuckle, he flicked out his hand and pressed the elevator call button. Soon the doors opened and he stepped inside quickly, pressed another button and within seconds he had reached his goal…the High-Risk Sector. Eddie slinked out of the elevator, punched the passwords “to be or Strontium b” (apparently an in-joke of the company employers) onto the keypad of the doors facing him – and he was in. So far so good. It didn’t take him long to locate the room he wanted. He pressed the button on the intercom built into the side of the door and presently, a voice crackled through the speaker.

“Yes? Who is it?”

Eddie pressed down the ‘play’ button on the dictaphone he carried and the tape played back it’s pre-recorded message through the intercom.

“It’s me, Darsbury! Professor Howard…I need to talk to you about tomorrow’s meeting – it’s important…”

There was a long pause. Eddie rewound the tape and retransmitted through the intercom, ” – it’s important…”

Within seconds a frustrated sigh crackled back through the speaker. “Very well, I’ll give you five minutes – then I have to get back to my work. Come in…”

There was a buzz followed by a clicking noise as the doors locking mechanism slid back giving Eddie access to the previously off-limits laboratory of Professor Howard. Upon entering, Eddie noticed that the Professor was standing with his back to him. He seemed greatly fascinated with something under a microscope.

“Well, Darsbury?” snapped the Professor without bothering to look around, “What’s your problem, then? As you can see, I’m a very busy man…”

“My name’s not Darsbury!” growled Eddie menacingly. In sheer fright and panic the Professor quickly turned on his heels to face the intruder.

“W-who are you?” he stuttered in alarm.

“My name’s not important right now. What is important is that offer Darsbury made you some time ago, about joining his work force. Well, as you’ve refused to give him a straight answer, he sent me along to sort things out…”

“Look!” snarled the Professor, “I’m not interested in working for Darsbury’s new company – I’m happy here. That idiot uses people! He’d only rip-off my work and claim it as his own. I’ve got no time for people like that – I don’t care what price he’s offering – my answer is ‘no’. Now get out…”

“Is that your final answer Professor?”

“That is my final answer. Now if you’ll just leave I -” Professor Howard stopped in mid-sentence and visibly blanched as Eddie Colburn flipped from under his jacket the gun he’d been concealing. “W-wha-? Why?”

“Well, you see Professor – the way Darsbury figures it, you’re a real pain-in-the-neck! You’re one of the best in your field and that makes you stiff competition. It’s competition that Darsbury can do without, so either you take up on his offer or I wipe you out…it’s entirely your choice!”

Professor Howard’s eyes dart panic-stricken across the laboratory as if searching for a way out. Suddenly, without warning he grabs a nearby beaker of some clear solution, screams a resounding “NO!” and defiantly flings it into the face of his aggressor. Eddie Colburn freezes, momentarily stunned, expecting the burning sensation of raw, undiluted acid to eat away his face and strip the flesh from his bones.

Nothing happens!

Eddie laughs.

“Some scientist you are – can’t even tell sulphuric acid from water! Well, I think I’ve wasted enough time with you, pal…”

With an expert hand Eddie trains the gun on Professor Howard as he backs away in terror. He squeezes the trigger and the silencer does it’s work well as the Professor is shot five times. With a dull thud the scientist’s pain-racked body flails onto the floor into an ever-widening pool of his own blood. The cold-hearted killer walks over to the writhing mass of dying flesh and prepares to finish the job. Only then does he realise that although fatally wounded, Professor Howard is…laughing?

Through lips contorted by his extreme agony, he mocks his murderer.

“You…will die…b-by your…own…hands! Y-your…OWN…HANDS…”

“Shut up – you pathetic jerk!”

“…die..by your…own…h-ha-”

The sudden entry of a bullet shattering it’s way through the rear of his skull, ripping apart the brain cortex and cerebrum at point-blank range, finally cuts short the rest of Professor Howard’s sentence – and perhaps on a more merciful note – his life.

Puzzled and disturbed by the Professor’s final, wild and frantic ravings, Eddie Colburn uneasily slips out of the laboratory, through the doors, into the elevator and back into C-Block. Like a cat he sidles through the concealed door and out into the alleyway. Like a ghost he disappears as he is swallowed up by the shadows of the dark yet sinisterly quiet night.

The next morning the killer awoke, completed his morning ablutions in the bathroom and then breakfasted. No matter how he tried, he could not shake the uneasy feeling that had dogged him since the previous night’s events. The Professor’s words rang mockingly within his mind and the nightmarish dreams had left him with little sleep. His head ached, his eyes were sore and he felt sick to the core in his stomach. Groaning, Eddie downed a couple of aspirin with his morning coffee as he examined the contents of the morning post. Gas bill, rent, maintenance fees, final electricity demand, junk mail – nothing really worth a second glance – oh, well. Eddie was just about to drain the final dregs of his coffee cup when the telephone rang. He picked up the receiver and muttered, “Hello?”

“Hello” replied a voice in clipped English, “May I speak to Mr Colburn, please?” There was no mistaking who it was – it was that smarmy, little brown-nosed assistant of Darsbury’s. Eddie sighed.

Yeah, speaking! What do you want, Thorpe?”

“I’m just ringing on the Boss’s behalf to inform you that having received information from one of our inside men he is very happy with the – ah – services you have rendered. Therefore it is my pleasure to inform you that you will find your – uh – fee has been paid directly into your bank account as previously arranged. It’s been nice doing business with you, Mr Colburn…goodbye…”

Thorpe had hung up. He never was much of a conversationalist to begin with but talking to Eddie he tended to be even less inclined to chat. Possibly Thorpe felt intimidated by Eddie’s presence – or rather his line of employment. Eddie laughed as he replaced the telephone receiver and grinned inwardly to himself as he remembered Professor Howard’s dying words. Well, the joke was on Professor Howard – as with thirty grand in his pocket Eddie figured there was no way that he would be committing suicide any time soon.

By mid-afternoon Eddie had sorted out and paid off all his outstanding debts. His head still ached a little, he also felt a bit queasy and light-headed – but happy and somewhat more relaxed. He considered his plans for the evening. Maybe he could drop by Arlene’s place – or call in at the pool hall and go for a few pints with the boys? Well, why not do both, he reasoned. See Arlene first and then go to the pool hall. He picked up a box of chocolates from a nearby corner shop and began pacing his way to his predetermined destination.

The melodic strains of Row, row, row the boat tinkled merrily out of the doorbell as Eddie removed his finger from the button and waited. Presently the distant sound of tripping , high-heeled shoes indicated that Arlene was coming to answer the door. Wouldn’t she be surprised to see him…

She was – but not in the way Eddie expected!

The door creaked open and Arlene gasped in shock. She paused momentarily as she composed herself enough to venture, “E – Eddie?”

“Yeah, Arlene – it’s me!” He frowned, puzzled by her reaction. “What’s the matter, baby? Don’t you recognise your own favourite fella?”

“Eddie, what’s happened to your…I mean…have you been ill?”

“What do you mean? I’m fine!” he snapped irritably, “Can I come in or what?”

“S-sure thing, Eddie…” she faltered whilst moving aside to allow him entry. Arlene had a real nice place. She didn’t earn much of a salary for her secretarial services but the way she decorated her home made it look like a miniature palace. Trinkets and fancy little statuettes lined the walls along with other amazing pieces of object d’art. Pictures and mirrors in every room – like this mirror in the hallway for instance. The one Eddie glimpses into – and soon wishes he hadn’t!

“M-my…face…” he began – then abruptly stopped. Within the silvery glass Eddie’s mirror-image gawked back at him in a horrified fashion. His eyes were red and swollen, bags of loose skin had developed underneath them and his chin from apparently nowhere. His facial skin had become strangely rough and gnarled, his hair had lost some of it’s colouring to become silvery-grey in patches. Unaccountably, Eddie had somehow aged by approximately fifteen years!

With a sickened groan he slumped down onto the bottom stair of the hallway and dispairingly nursed his head in his hands.

“Eddie? Are you okay? Do you want me to call a doctor?” A note of panic rang through Arlene’s voice. He’d have to ignore his now banging headache and ‘play it cool’ for her sake.

“No…it’s all right sweetheart. Perhaps I’ve been working a little too hard lately…” He stood up shakily and handed her the chocolate box. “Here’s a little gift for you, why don’t we go and -” His voice froze as a searing pain stabbed it’s way through his larynx. His vocal chords constricted and rattled grotesquely as a flaming sensation burned into them. Automatically, instinctively, Eddie clutched at his throat as if in an agonised bid to halt the progress of the pain. His hands locked around his throat and to his terrified astonishment – they tightened! His whole body shook, the vicelike grip could not be broken. They were his hands – yet he was not in control of them! Arlene squealed in fear and ran from the room as Eddie sank to his knees, his face turning a deathly blue, unable to free himself and fighting a losing battle for consciousness. As his head hit the floor, he uncomprehendingly heard Arlene’s voice telephoning for a doctor. A wave of inky, blackness engulfed Eddie, followed by a calm, tranquil quietness. His fight for consciousness was over…he had lost.

Later that evening whilst out walking, Eddie pondered moodily over what the doctor had said to him about the incident at Arlene’s.

“The only conclusion I can come to” said doctor Robinson, “is that you suffered from some form of apoplectic seizure. Is there any history of seizures or epilepsy in your family, Mr Colburn?”

“No – but doctor – it wasn’t like that! It was as if someone else had control of my hands and they were trying to strangle me – I -”

“Oh, come now, Mr Colburn – it may have seemed like that at the time…a delusion brought on by the seizure probably…”

Eddie’s head throbbed as he tried to dismiss the recollection from his mind. He had wanted to believe the doctor’s theory but he felt there was something else…what exactly he didn’t know…wasn’t sure. He continued walking along the pavement trying not to think of anything in particular, with the vain hope that the buzzing in his head would just go away. Suddenly, everything just happened so quickly that he had hardly any time to react. A numbing pain tingled through his legs and they jerked spasmodically, uncontrollably and with a life of their own. Eddie screamed in agonised fear and horror as he was dragged like a helpless puppet against his will, through the disjointed perambulations of his lower limbs…straight into the middle of the rush hour traffic. Vehicles swerved from all sides missing him by mere inches. The pain became too much for Eddie’s overwrought and tortured mind to bear. This time he more than welcomed the experience of unconsciousness with open arms when it came, leaving his crumpled, twitching body splayed in the roadway – which caused a backlog of traffic jams and blaring car horns. Not to mention hundreds of irritated drivers, wondering what was stopping them from getting home after a long and tiresome day at work.

After leaving the hospital Eddie Colburn was a desperately frightened man. None of the doctors that examined him could pinpoint exactly what the problem was. The incidents continued with more frequency and renewed ferocity. Within the space of a further thirty-six hours Eddie had by his own bodily functions, been strangled no less than five times, hurled into the path of oncoming traffic a further three times – as well as being launched from the top of a fifty-foot bridge into the freezing depths of the river below. Luckily the crew of a passing trawler had spotted him and hauled Eddie to safety on that occasion. In addition to all of these terrifying events he had aged yet another ten years physically and a good number of his teeth had loosened and fallen out. Colburn finally came to the conclusion that perhaps the substance Professor Howard had thrown at him that fateful night wasn’t water at all…but what was it? He decided that the only people who could possibly answer that question or help him in any way now were the scientists at Darsbury’s new “ChemiCorp Laboratories” – the new rival firm to “Graywood Laboratories Incorperated”, where this whole mess began in the first place.

After a garbled telephone call to Darsbury, Eddie found himself the same night in the presence of Professor Jensen – ChemiCorp’s most eminent scientist in their High-Risk Sector. After Eddie had undertaken a number of tests, questions and medical examinations, Professor Jenson decided to proffer a diagnosis.

“Well, Mr Colburn – I’ll be straight with you. From the results I have received from the tests, medicals and your description of the symptoms, I can only conclude that you have somehow come into contact with a substance known as ‘BZ-501’. God alone knows how!”

Colburn looked totally nonplussed. “BZ-what? W-what is it?”

The Professor paused as if contemplating what would be the best course of action at this tentative point of the proceedings. He gave Eddie a cursory and rather uncomfortable glance, sighed wearily and decided to expand on his diagnosis with an explanation.

“It’s a substance known as ‘BZ-501’ – a little known nerve agent which was being tested around 1965 on an undisclosed number of human guinea pigs – and only in allocated laboratories in Britain. The guinea pigs – or rather, army recruits – showed exactly the same symptoms as you’ve described and have been displaying. ‘BZ-501’ can come in gas or liquid form and when absorbed through the skin, it enters the bloodstream. Within a relatively short period of time it attacks the nervous system and-”

Hysterically Eddie pleads, “Professor Jensen! Tell me the truth – can I be cured? What will happen to me? For God sakes man – can you HELP me?”

“Well, I personally haven’t worked with this particular agent to a substantial degree and most of the records after the experiments in 1965 were either deleted or destroyed, however I believe there’s still a good chance that I can help you. An antidote is undergoing development by an old colleague of mine – if the antidote’s perfected they should be able to cure you. Here, I’ll give you their name and number…”

Professor Jensen scribbles down the details with a biro onto a scrap of card which he then hands to Eddie, who on reading the scrawl promptly collapses to his knees, his entire body racked with pain-ridden, heavy sobs. Tears blurred his blepharitic, swollen eyes and streamed down his face, stinging the gnarled and raw flesh of his cheeks. Eddie cried inconsolably, howling like a baby.

Wouldn’t you if you’d just murdered the only person who could have saved your life?