Project 731 Read Online Free

fresh No Trespassing signs threatening prosecution, and the latest in high tech monitoring, which Watson can watch from the Crow’s Nest (the FC-P’s headquarters) back in Beverly, Massachusetts.
    “See anything?” I ask.
    Collins starts to reply in the negative, but she stops short and points. “There.”
    Hawkins is distant. Small. His head barely visible above the tall, yellow grass, despite his height. He’s wearing just a T-shirt and shorts, which is supposed to be my uniform, and he’s running in a sprint, like Tom Cruise in...well, in every Tom Cruise movie ever made. His arms, rising and falling, are a blur.
    As Collins and I jog toward the action, I let myself think, he’s going to make it , but I quickly follow that thought with, “Holy fuuuu.” I never finish the expletive. I’m too stunned.
    Lilly explodes from a tree in a cloud of yellow pollen. She’s at least seventy-five feet up, and arcing downward toward Hawkins, who is oblivious to her aerial approach. I nearly shout a warning, but I realize Lilly would disqualify the win, if we won.
    “Just a little closer,” Collins says, and I smile. She hated this at first, but once Lilly started getting cocky, she’s been on board.
    For a moment, I think Lilly is going to land on top of him, but she lands right in front of him in a crouch, her back turned. Hawkins doesn’t miss a beat, diving over Lilly and rolling back to his feet. He doesn’t bother running now. It would be a wasted effort. He’ll be tagged in less than a second.
    Lilly strikes, reaching out for Mark’s back.
    But he manages one last move before Lilly tags him. He throws the flag, which is wrapped around its metal post. It tumbles through the air, landing just short of the dividing line.
    Lilly thrusts her hands in the air. “Yes!”
    Collins and I stop nearby, close enough to watch what happens next.
    After a few seconds of victory dance, Lilly notices her three silent observers, stops and misreads the situation. Again. “Sorry,” she says. “That was over the top.”
    “Bonus points for apologizing, but...” I point to the flag.
    Lilly’s head snaps around, just as a blond head of hair, perfectly hidden in the yellow grass, rises up to reveal the lithe Dr. Avril Joliet. As a biologist and oceanographer, she lends her scientific prowess to the team. But to Lilly, she’s ‘Mom.’ Like Lilly, she’s prone to impulsivity and is widely considered the reason we lost the first five capture-the-flag matches, but over time, Joliet learned how to operate on a team. And as she casually bends over from her position behind the dividing line to pick up the flag, she delivers us our first win.
    We don’t gloat. We don’t need to. Lilly is upset enough as it is, kicking grass and grumbling. She turns on Hawkins. “How did you get past the girls?”
    The ‘girls’ are Lilly’s immaculately conceived brood of three black cats, which lack her human traits, yet are unlike any other big cat species on the planet. They are jet black, like pumas, the size and build of Siberian tigers, and they’re incredibly intelligent. While they can’t speak, it’s clear they understand most of what we say, and they don’t view us, or people, as prey. That’s not to say they’re not dangerous, but they are absolutely devoted to Lilly, who gave birth to them by laying eggs... True story. I wasn’t there, but Hawkins swears by it. And that’s just the tail end of the weirdness he endured along with Joliet and Lilly on an island in the Pacific.
    “Bacon,” Hawkins says with a shrug.
    “Wha—” Lilly’s head lolls back, her mouth open in a silent groan. “Bacon? For real?”
    “Good game,” I say to Lilly, willing to leave it at that, and I raise my hand.
    To my surprise and delight, she gives me a high five, and says, “Next time, I’ll feed the girls first.”
    While the others hang back and talk and joke about the match, I stroll away and pull out my cell phone, tapping on a