Durkin’s lab was a shambles. Tables were overturned. Equipment was scattered across the floor. Puddles of different-colored fluids spread onto piles of important-looking papers. Dr. Durkin didn’t look much better than his lab. His white coat hung in tatters about his shoulders, and he was covered with blood from several deep cuts. He was standing in the far corner of the lab. Facing him, crouched on a table and making angry noises, was Ron—the chimp that had been so sick the day before. “Thank God you’re here,” said Dr. Durkin as Dr. Hulan came through the door. “You’ve got to help me subdue him!” Then he spotted Cassie and me. “Rusty! Get out of here! And take that girl with you. Now!” The words were barely out of his mouth when Ron jumped. It was horrible. The chimp I had been going to cuddle less than twenty-four hours earlier attacked Dr. Durkin like a whirlwind made of teeth and claws. “Charles!” cried Dr. Durkin. “Help me!” Dr. Hulan rushed forward. I was right beside him.
