The boy’s eyes sent shivers down Jason’s spine. Every time he glanced back at the glass holding cell he saw them; wide, cold, staring. They never seemed to blink. The fact that they were a blood red certainly didn’t help either.

He couldn’t stand sitting there, staring the child in the eyes, and so he had turned his chair around several hours ago to play cards. If only he had his phone, and all the games and movies he could access from it, but it was confiscated when he entered the restricted subbasement to stand guard. He wasn’t given a great deal of information, but he had heard a few rumors floating from mouth to mouth between a few others who had worked the night shift before him. If he chose to believe them, which he didn’t, then the boy locked in Subbasement 3 of Brolly-Corp International is a test subject for a new super soldier serum derived from ancient corpses.

None of that made any sense, though. First off; what part of an ancient corpse would make someone a super soldier? Jason was quite certain most parts of an ancient corpse would just make you sick. Maybe, just possibly, a mummy would be like a very aged jerky?

Second; it was just a kid… a kid who looked very much like a corpse, but a kid nonetheless. Besides, he hadn’t even seen the kid move an inch in the hours he’d been sitting there. He could just as easily be a life-size doll.

A corpse?

He hadn’t really thought about it until just that moment, but the kid truly did look a lot like the living dead. If the eyes didn’t follow him when he moved, he might actually believe he was being paid fifty an hour to guard a lifeless body. He rose from his seat and moved closer to get a better look, stopping just short of the red tape line a yard from the cell window and leaned in. Pale, ashy skin, dark rings around blood red eyes, an aloof expression; definitely could be a zombie or some demon possession.

“I need an old priest, and a young priest,” he said quietly.

What is that line from? The guard stood straight and contemplated this question as he returned to his seat. He’d heard it somewhere, but was it IN the movie or did it only reference the movie? He glanced back at the kid as he reached his seat; still sitting, still staring.

“Do you ever sleep?”

The boy did not respond.

“You’re fucking creepy, little dude.”

He checked his watched and had the sudden urge to yawn. Almost two thirty in the morning; meaning he’d been on duty for five hours, and still had almost five to go. He sighed at the thought of it, then frowned as his stomach growled.

The guard brought his hand to the radio on his shoulder and held the button.

“Frank? Come in. This is Jason, Sub 3, I’m about ready for my break. Want to come down and relieve me?”

Jason waited for a few seconds, before clicking the button and repeating himself. When he received no response the second time, he pulled the radio from his belt and fiddled with the knobs. He wasn’t getting any response, not even static.

“Ah, shit,” he muttered. “I forgot to charge it.”

Jason hooked the radio back onto his belt and threw his hands up in the air before resting them on his hips. He shook his head. How could he forget to charge the damn radio? Again! He looked back at the kid and remembered what they said about the containment cell; two inches of bulletproof glass, reinforced with aluminum strings. It was over-kill. They didn’t even need a guard here.

“Alright, kiddo,” Jason’s hand rose to aim a finger at the corpse-child. “I’m going to go see what the kitchen has to offer. Stay put.” He started to walk away but paused and backtracked a few steps. “Want anything? String cheese? Ice cream?”

The boy did not respond.

Jason shrugged and continued on his way.