Mr Kendrides test subjects collab

Mr Kendride, I'm here to send you an important message. It might seem odd, but I do miss you and your creative inventions. However, you took it too far. When you hired that Jack guy, you visited a cult that serves the supposed goatman to find out how they controlled people, and let's just say that you got what you wanted. By playing the cult's game you searched and found the goat's skull. You sampled some kind of fluid that resembled blood and gave the skull back to the cult. As they looked away you ran out of there and decided to test out the substance at your lab, but you needed test subjects. And I ceased to trust you at that moment as I knew that something terrible would happen. Forgive me for leaving, but I just had to.
Written by Francis Servon
Sent from: Montreal/Canada
To: Mr Kendride at Florida
....
I check my computer’s inbox, once again hoping that there’s some kind of response from Kendride. Once again, there’s nothing. I re-read the message I sent days ago, then sigh and turn off the computer. I rest my head against my fists and do some reflecting.
I hoped that my heartfelt message would touch something in Kendride, do something to convince him to turn from this dark path, but it appears that my message is being ignored. It makes me feel helpless. Again I muse on how my colleague has become similar to the cultists he exploited. They claim to worship the demonic spirit of the goatman skull (or something to that effect), but actually worship their perceived superiority and their ability to exploit others; Kendride states he wants to make scientific advances, but instead he worships his own abilities. Both are exploiting others to feed their egos. It would be easy to blame the one they call Jack, but I fear that Kendride is manipulating that sick, tortured young man and not the other way around.
As I continue to reflect, my stomach lurches as a sickening vision comes to mind. I fear that something horrible will happen to my friend if Jack stops trusting him for some reason. In a flash I turn the computer back on and send Kendride a message expressing my fear that his life may be in danger if he continues to use people as his playthings. Afterward I feel some relief, but overall a feeling of dread remains, especially since he may ignore this message too. After some thought, I decide to take action. I’m not helpless; there is something I can do. 
I go to a cabinet and take out the files I made before I parted ways with Kendride. While he kept some secrets, I was able to copy many of his notes. While I don’t have the exact composition of his bloody hate drug, I have enough information to work on an antidote/vaccine. If Kendride won’t stop his experiments, I’ll take it upon myself to stop him and help his test subjects.
After working feverishly for hours, I’m able to create a formula that can neutralize and block the effects of the bloody hate drug. When administered to an infected person, it will cure them. When administered to an uninfected person, it will inoculate them against the drug’s effects so they won’t experience them even if they are injected with it. However, to my horror, it will need a certain ingredient in order to work. I could extract it from another subject, but this is my mission. Steeling my resolve, I call one of my associates to arrange a lumbar puncture and have some of my cerebrospinal fluid extracted.
At this point I have tested my formula on a test subject and the results were positive as the patient was no longer mad.
When I came back the next morning, all hell broke loose. Everyone inside the lab seemed insane, throwing things, fighting each other and screaming. How did this drug affect so many people in such a short amount of time...
I tried to cure them, but the antidote was taken away from me and I never found it again. The violence of the subjects did not help.
Some tried to grab me, punch or kick me, and much more violent behaviors started spiraling around me. I fell thousands of times and I was harmed while I searched desperately for the cure, but to no avail.
I ran, trying to find the exit, and that's when I saw Jack blocking the door of the exit, smiling and teasing me.
He must have been the cause of this for sure, but I had no time to find out. I sprinted to the basement as the insane subjects followed me with pure anger. I exited to one of the windows, ran back to my car, and drove out of there.
My head reeled and throbbed as I drove along, a result of both my fear and the recent cerebrospinal fluid extraction. A chilling thought came to mind- could Jack have tampered with my car somehow, or did he count on the maddened mob finishing me off? This question made me more determined to reach safety as soon as possible.
Another horrible question soon entered my mind. Did Jack come to interfere on his own, or did Kendride send him? Tears of frustration started to sting my eyes. I mused that at least I was protected against the drug's effects since I had also tested the vaccine on myself. My efforts weren't entirely in vain.
The radio was still on from when I drove to the lab that morning. As I made my way to the nearest police station, the local station reported, "In local news, people are still talking about the mysterious pair of cones that has been sitting on the sidewalk for the last few days..."
"Oh, are you kidding me!?" I cried out loud.
People finally talked about Jack as he murdered people all over the place. I felt ashamed of myself. All these people were most likely dead or arrested. I can't get this fact off my mind.
I stayed in my own house because of the dangerous murderer outside. Four days later the police finally arrested Jack. They haven't given him the electric chair- just a life sentence in prison. Fools!
Mr. Kendride ended up getting poisoned by Jack; he got an overdose and died of poisoning. They should have given the electric chair to Jack. Now he could escape any day from now...
Category:Horror
Category:Stories
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