Krom

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

KROM

First edition. July 20, 2024.

Copyright © 2024 Carl Ray.

Written by Carl Ray.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Krom

Parental Guidance

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

About the Author

Copyright © 2024 by Carl W. Ray, Jr.

All rights reserved.

Parental Guidance

Animal attacks. Animal fights. Gun use.

Chapter One

Blue lights flashing, red lights flashing—police cars, SWAT team, Animal Control, an ambulance, and a firetruck—all outside the sleek modern buildings of Bentuk Labs. The sun had barely broken the horizon.

Dr. Kendall screeched to a halt in her private parking space and jumped out of her car. "What's going on, Frank?" she asked as men in uniforms brushed past her.

"It's Krom," replied Dr. Lekman. "He's escaped."

Three men emerged from the animal control van, guns in hand.

"Tell me those are tranquilizer guns," said Amanda, her eyes fixed on the weapons.

"Those are," Frank replied, "but not those," he added, pointing to the SWAT team. Men in black tactical gear readied their assault rifles. Magazines snapped into place. Slides pulled back, chambering rounds—metal clicking against metal.

"It's a bit overkill, don't you think?" asked Amanda. There were few things Amanda liked less than men who like to play with guns.

"You know how people react when they hear the words gorilla on the loose," said Frank.

"That's what I'm afraid of. We need to find Krom before some trigger-happy cowboy takes a shot at him," said Amanda. "What's with the ambulance?" she asked as the flashing red lights danced on the side of her car.

"Krom attacked Marvin," said Frank.

“Krom? That’s impossible.”

“Impossible or not, that’s what they’re saying.”

Amanda turned and headed toward Marvin, the security guard, her white lab coat unbuttoned and flapping as she walked. She passed through several firemen in their yellow striped turnout coats. She came up behind a paramedic in his dark blue EMS jacket, stepped around to get a better view, and could see Marvin standing on one leg, with his arm around another paramedic.

She came to a startling stop when she saw a long piece of metal rod protruding from Marvin's thigh, his pants leg soaked in blood. The rod had punched straight through from the back—the jagged, bloody end of it sticking out the front.

The rod was one of many in a bundle of rebar, all strapped tightly together. The rod couldn't be removed—and neither could Marvin.

The paramedic spoke to the fire chief. "We can't pull him off the rebar, the risk of hemorrhaging is too high.”

"We’ll cut the rebar," the fire chief responded.

"The rebar is close to the femoral artery, if the artery tears, he could bleed out," the medic cautioned.

"We'll keep movement to a minimum," the chief reassured. He turned and called out. "Jack, bring the Power Pincer." Jack nodded and dashed to get the pincer, a crab-claw-shaped power tool that cuts through steel.

Jack returned with the pincer. He stood behind Marvin, positioned the heavy-duty tool, and squeezed the trigger. The motor whined. The pincers squeezed against the rebar. Within seconds, the tool bit through the rod with a sudden, sharp snap.

Marvin winced as the metal snapped and his weight shifted slightly.

The medics lowered a gurney so Marvin could sit down. They gently tilted him until he lay on his side, small sections of rebar still jutting from his thigh. As they rolled the gurney to the ambulance, Amanda followed.

"Hi Marvin," she said softly as she stepped up to the gurney. "Looks like you've had better days."

“It’s nothing Dr. Kendall, I’ll be fine,” his thigh covered in blood. “When Krom pushed me out of his way, I fell back onto that pile of rebar, one of ‘em pierced me good.”

"Clean through,” said the medic. “But luckily it missed his artery.” The medic was calm and reassuring. "He'll be as good as new in no time."

Amanda turned to Marvin, her eyes searching his face. "Krom really attacked you?"

"No, no," Marvin replied. "Not really, but ... he's just too smart, Dr. Kendall."

"How so?" asked Amanda.

"I was making my rounds when Krom came barreling out the loading-dock door," Marvin said. "It really startled me, so I put my hand on my weapon. Krom thought I was going to shoot him, so he backhanded me to the ground, that's all ... man, is he strong."

Amanda placed her hand on Marvin's shoulder, "I need to check out the lab and try to find Krom. I'll come by the hospital and check on you later. Has anyone called Mary?"

"I can do that," said Marvin, grimacing as the paramedic pressed his wound.

"You sit back," said Amanda. "I'll call Mary right now. She'll be waiting for you at the hospital when you get there."

She made the call as she headed toward the lab.

Once inside, Amanda noticed Krom's empty cage, door open and misshapen. Her eyes then fell on the opened dock door. She distinctly remembered locking those doors herself at the end of yesterday’s shift.

As her eyes scanned the rest of the room she noticed something else; something even more terrifying.

"Frank!" she yelled back over her shoulder, her voice echoing.

Frank came rushing in.

"Frank, where's Timba?" The tiger cage was empty; door open. "Did animal control take him?" asked Amanda.

“No,” answered Frank. "Nobody's been in the lab yet." He eyed Timba’s empty cage as the severity of the situation hit him.

"So we have a man-eating tiger on the loose." On the outside, Amanda always maintained a poise of calm; but on the inside, she was shaken. “Better send in Sheriff Baker, and Chief Monty of Animal Control,” she said in a business-like manner.

Frank dashed out of the room in search of the sheriff and the chief.

Amanda quickly glanced around the room, checking all the cages: monkeys, raccoons, a panther, a bobcat... all were safe and accounted for.

Sheriff Baker and Chief Monty both walked into the room with an air of authority. Frank followed behind them.

"Tell us what you know," said Sheriff Baker, his voice stern, as he put his pen to his notepad. He glanced over at Krom's twisted cage door, raising a brow.

"Let's just say we've gone from yellow alert to red alert," Amanda replied.

"Don't you worry, Dr. Kendall,” said Chief Monty. “We'll get that gorilla." He puffed out his chest—though the gesture had little effect due to his oversized belly.

"Gentlemen, Krom is the least of our worries," said Amanda, preparing them for the worst.

"What could be worse than a rampaging gorilla?" asked Chief Monty.

Amanda paused for a moment, "A rampaging tiger.”

Their faces went blank.

“Timba has escaped."

Without a remark or pause, Sheriff Baker spun on his heels, rushed out the door, and spoke into his shoulder mic, "Sergeant Tilley, gather all your men now! Make sure everyone is accounted for, SWAT, animal control, everyone. Gather everyone and meet me by the SWAT van."

Chief Monty exited, fast on the sheriff’s heels. Amanda and Frank followed.

Timba, an illegal pet tiger that had escaped its owner, was a known man-killer. It recently attacked a group of junior high students during lunch break. No kids were hurt, but the teacher who jumped in to save them, Mr. Farley, was killed and dragged by the neck into the nearby woods. A video of the incident went viral.

With the horrible memories still fresh in everyone’s minds, one name struck terror into the heart of every resident of Maywood—

Timba.

Chapter Two

The town of Maywood is a picturesque place, nestled on a plateau in the middle of the mountains and tightly embraced by a dense forest. The terrain is a blend of flat expanses and rolling hills. The streets are shaded by arched tunnels of tree branches. Groves cluster sporadically throughout the town.

It was autumn. Brilliant hues of red, orange, and yellow leaves painted the town. The crisp, clean air was filled with the scent of fallen leaves.

For most people, Maywood was an idyllic place to live, but for twelve-year-old Matt Conley, it held daily torment. Each morning, his stomach knotted with dread over the walk to school. Today was no different.

As Matt turned the street corner, he could see Billy Bob and his cronies, Tank and Todd, coming toward him from across the street. Matt's heart picked up its pace; his palms grew sweaty. He considered turning back, but he knew that would only prolong the inevitable.

Billy Bob was the leader of the pack, a big bear of a bully who took pleasure in tormenting Matt. Tank and Todd were his loyal followers, always eager to do Billy Bob's bidding. They were coming closer. Matt let out a sigh, attempting to release the dread in his knotted stomach. Let’s get this over with, he thought, as he mustered the courage to keep moving forward.

With each forced step, the gap between them closed, until they were finally face to face.

“Hey Mattie Patty,” said Billy Bob, sneering as he stepped in closer. “What you got for me today?” Matt pulled his snack money from his pocket and handed it over to Billy Bob—a crumpled dollar bill and two quarters. Matt was hoping it’d be enough to send him on his way, but Billy Bob wanted more. The bully stuffed the money into his pocket and put out his hand, “and your lunch!”

Matt reached into his backpack and reluctantly pulled out a PBJ sandwich. His mind turned to his mom, who, despite her exhaustion from working double shifts, had taken the time—just minutes ago—to carefully prepare it for him. How unfair that her loving efforts would end up unappreciated, destined for the grubby hands of this overgrown hippo.

Matt hardly had the sandwich out of the bag before Billy Bob's meaty, stubby fingers snatched it from Matt's grip. Billy Bob inspected the sandwich, turning it over and giving it a sniff. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Peanut butter and jelly ... again?” He threw the sandwich to the ground and stomped on it, mashing it under his scuffed boot. Globs of purplish brown goo oozed from between the sides of the bread. “I want something different tomorrow. You got that?” Billy Bob picked up the gooey mess and smeared it all over Matt’s face.

Licking his fingers clean, Billy Bob gave a head gesture to Tank—permission to take over. Tank yanked Matt’s backpack away and slammed it to the ground, causing his books to spill out.

Matt bent down to pick up his things. As he did, Todd quickly shoved him to the ground. Matt tried to break his fall, reaching out with a palm and scraping it along the gravel, then going down hard on his elbow.

Billy Bob stepped closer and leaned down, grabbing Matt’s shirt, and with his bad breath in Matt’s face said, “Same time tomorrow. Don’t be late.” Billy Bob gave Matt one last shove before turning and strutting away, Tank and Todd followed close behind.

Matt lay on the ground, getting his breath back, his elbow throbbing from where it struck the pavement, the palm of his hand burning where the skin had peeled away. Then he slowly sat up, ankles crossed and knees splayed out. He placed his skinny forearms on his knobby knees.

Matt sat for a moment, making sure they didn’t come back, otherwise, he’d just get knocked down again. He dusted off his backpack and opened it up, grabbing a hand-wipe that his mother so lovingly packed for him. He cleaned the sticky mess off his face.

Next, he checked to see that his backup lunch wasn’t too smashed—Matt always had a backup. He checked an inside pocket to make sure he still had enough snack money for later.

As Matt sat, he thought about skipping school. He still had morning break, lunch, and the walk home from school to worry about. This thought crossed his mind almost every morning, but he never skipped—Matt was a good student. He let out a long breath, dropped his shoulders and sat for another minute or two.

In his rush to be “on time” for Billy Bob, Matt hadn’t had breakfast. He took out his backup sandwich and decided to eat half now and the other half at lunch. As he took a few bites, Matt thought he heard something behind him. He waited a few seconds ... nothing. He shrugged it off and continued eating, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone, or something, was watching him. The knot in his stomach and the pain of his knee were replaced with a creepy, unsettling feeling.

Chapter Three

The hunting party gathered around the SWAT van with an anxious eagerness, ready to leap into action. On one side of the van, Chief Monty was addressing the animal control team. "Fan out in two-man teams and stick with your partner. Don’t be wandering off alone or trying to be a hero. Krom's smart, so watch your backs out there. Make sure your tranquilizer guns are operable and loaded—high dosage darts, these beasts are big."

On the other side of the SWAT van Sheriff Baker barked orders to his deputies and the SWAT team. “I want a two mile perimeter established immediately. We’ll work out from there every half hour.” The sheriff looked at his watch. “It hasn’t been an hour yet, so they can’t have gone too far. But they’re animals, they won’t think like us, so you’ve got to be creative in your hunt. And remember, guns loaded—shoot to kill.”

Amanda stood nearby, her heart heavy with worry as they organized the posse. Her thoughts turned to Krom, a gentle giant with a heart of gold. A sudden memory of their last chess game came to her mind—it brought a slight smile to her face. Krom was an intelligent, gentle soul not the "rampaging beast" they seemed to think—her smile faded, replaced by a frown of worry. Krom wouldn’t hurt a flea, not intentionally or without good reason. She had to make Sheriff Baker understand.

When the sheriff finished, Amanda approached him, her voice unwavering. "Sheriff Baker, you know Krom wouldn't hurt anyone. He roams around free in our lab. He works alongside us everyday, he's not a man-killing monster like Timba. Please tell your people not to harm him—tranqs only."

Sheriff Baker stood like an immovable bear next to Amanda’s small frame. In his well-fitted uniform, his slightly oversized midsection was complemented by his broad chest and powerful shoulders. "A man is in the hospital, Dr. Kendall."

"It was an accident."

"Let me repeat: a man is in the hospital, Dr. Kendall."

Amanda could feel her frustration growing. She could see the SWAT team preparing their weapons, the animal control team loading their tranquilizer guns. "But Sheriff—"

A couple of SWAT members brushed Amanda aside as they rushed between her and the sheriff.

"My first responsibility is the safety of this county," the sheriff said after the two men passed. “Dr. Kendall, if your security guard had fallen at a different angle, he might well have a rebar sticking through his heart instead of his thigh. If we get the opportunity, we'll take down both Timba and Krom." His expression remained stern as he double-checked his sidearm with a loud click, chambering a round.

Amanda stepped back up to the sheriff. She decided to hit back hard, "I hope you know what you're doing, Sheriff. Some of the people who fund our research are the same ones who contribute to your campaign."

Sheriff Baker holstered his gun. He narrowed his eyes and looked directly into Amanda’s. "Are you threatening me, Dr. Kendall?"

"Intimidation of a peace officer? Never. Just stating the facts – you know, campaign advice."

"I'll take your advice into consideration, but I get elected because I give the people what they want; and right now, they want Timba and Krom dead on sight ... and so do I."

Amanda changed tactics, trying to appeal to the sheriff’s humane side. "Keep in mind, Sheriff, that Krom is smarter than most people."

"Smart people kill. What's your point?"

"If that doesn't prick your conscience, then there's no point."

Sheriff Baker sighed and relaxed his stance as he adjusted his hat. He understood where Dr. Kendal was coming from. "Look, Amanda—"

"Dr. Kendall," she admonished.

"Fine...Dr. Kendall...” The sheriff stiffened his spine. “I have a job to do, just like you. That's all there is to this."

“Krom’s a sensitive soul, sheriff,” Amanda reassured.

"So you say. How am I to know that Krom is so intelligent and sensitive?” asked Sheriff Baker. “Is he genetically modified, been pumped with drugs all his life?"

"Nothing of the sort. We've been training and educating him with artificial intelligence from the time he opened his eyes. It’s all natural—just super efficient."

Sheriff Baker looked skeptical. "So he's a 480-pound circus animal. I get it."

Amanda bristled at the insult. "Read the research, Sheriff."

Sheriff Baker had grown tired of her annoyance. He held his hand high as if someone had called to him. "Be right there," he said to nobody, and walked away.

Amanda let him be, she could tell she wasn’t getting anywhere. His duty outweighed her personal pleas, and she respected that. The only thing left for her to do was take matters into her own hands.

Frank moseyed up to Amanda, his hands in his lab coat pockets. "What was that all about?"

Amanda let out a deep breath. "If we don't act fast, we're going to have one dead tiger AND one dead gorilla."

Chapter Four

That creepy, unsettling sensation had passed, and Matt was still sitting on the ground after the bullying incident. He was eating his sandwich, catching up on a missed breakfast.

His thoughts turned to how hard his mom worked—hardly ever home; how she pushed through it all each day just to be sure he got a sandwich in his backpack. He thought of how she counted out coins from her coin-purse so he would have enough money for a snack.

An anger welled-up inside Matt as he thought about Billy Bob’s bullying antics. Matt could take it, sure. But it was an insult to his mother’s hard work and sacrifice; and that bothered Matt more than the bruises or a stolen lunch.

Lost in his somber mood, Matt suddenly heard something behind him, a tiny faint sound. Matt stopped in mid-bite.

And then, silence.

But this was a strange silence—too quiet. No birds fluttering around. No squirrels rustling leaves. No crickets chirping, flies buzzing, nor frogs croaking. Even the breeze seemed to stop. Matt had never felt such an eerie silence. Tiny pricks ran up his back and down his arms.

Turn around? Don’t turn around. Matt couldn’t decide. Surely it’s nothing. But the unsettling silence continued.

Matt decided he would turn around. He turned slowly at first; halfway around, a flicker of orange and black at the edge of his vision made him shiver.

Surely it’s not ... He whipped his head around; a bolt of lightning shot through his heart.

Timba!

He dropped his sandwich.

The enormous man-eating tiger was crouched just a few feet away, its powerful legs tensed like coiled springs. Its fiery-yellow eyes fixed on Matt. Matt’s heart split in two, one half rising to the top of his chest and the other to the pit of his stomach.

Matt was there that day when Timba dragged the teacher away; the memory came flooding forward like it was yesterday—the screams still echoing in his mind. He knew what this tiger was capable of, and it wasn’t pretty. Frozen in terror, Matt dare not move. He knew the slightest movement could trigger Timba. Timba could clear the distance between them in a single leap.

For the moment, however, Timba stayed crouched, perfectly still, sizing up his prey and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Matt’s heart pounded so loudly he was sure Timba could hear it.

For five full seconds their stares locked together. Neither of them flinched.

If I run, I die. Matt stayed.

Timba held Matt’s gaze and began inching slowly forward. From his crouched position, Timba slid a massive paw forward, then the other, gliding in perfect silence. Matt's heart beat faster and faster, until he thought it would erupt out of his chest. Then, he heard something—a whimper like a scared puppy. He couldn’t figure out what he was hearing, until he realized, the sound was coming from his own throat.

Suddenly, in one explosive burst, Timba launched his massive body through the air. His powerful legs released from their coil with astonishing speed. With all the force of his 500-pound body, he slammed into Matt like a missile, knocking Matt flat on his back and driving the air from his lungs.

Matt’s survival instincts kicked in. Gasping to get his air back, he grabbed his backpack, using it as a makeshift shield. He thrust it into Timba’s mouth just as the tiger lunged for Matt’s throat. Timba's powerful jaws clamped down on the backpack, his razor-sharp teeth tearing through the fabric. He thrashed his head from side to side, sending books, papers, and school supplies flying everywhere in a chaotic flurry. The sound of tearing fabric and the sheer ferocity with which Timba attacked the backpack raised Matt’s terror to a new height.

As Timba ripped and wrestled the backpack, Matt scurried backward on the palms of his hands and the heels of his feet, crab-walking away from the enraged tiger, his emotions a jumble of fear and panic.

Timba, realizing he had missed his prey, dropped the shredded remains of the backpack. His eyes blazed with fury. From the depths of his throat, he let out a terrifying roar that echoed through the streets.

With only a split-second delay, Matt matched Timba’s roar with an involuntary, high-pitched scream—both sounds piercing the previous silence and setting off a chorus of barks and howls from the neighborhood canines.

Matt scrambled to his feet. Driven by sheer panic, he bolted into an all-out run, adrenaline surging through his veins. Timba, with predatory precision, leapt forward. He took a few powerful strides and swatted at Matt’s foot with his giant paw, sending Matt sprawling to the ground.

Matt found himself face down, eating tiny bits of gravel and dirt. Desperately, he rolled over and pushed himself up on his palms and heels again, inching backward, his eyes never leaving the tiger.

Timba relished every moment of this cruel game of cat and mouse. Staying low to the ground, he crept toward Matt.

Matt was beside himself, realizing there was nothing he could do, no means of escape. He couldn’t run; he couldn’t fight.

Timba’s gaze locked onto Matt’s. Matt could see the cold, deadly intent in Timba’s eyes—the predator ready for the kill shot.

Timba crouched low, muscles coiling in preparation for his final lunge—the cat and mouse game was over.

Chapter Five

Dr. Kendall and Dr. Lekman, faces etched with worry, left the side of the SWAT van and headed swiftly back into the Bentuk building, their hurried footsteps echoing against the sterile hallway walls. The gravity of the situation was starting to sink in.

“We’re not going to get any support from the authorities. It’s up to us to come up with a plan to save Krom.” Amanda reached for her key card and beeped the door to the lab.

Frank hurried after her into the lab. "They'll take out Krom for sure," he said, leaving no doubt about the outcome they were up against; the grim reality heavy on his shoulders.

Amanda’s expression hardened. “All that gun training the cops get—with a golden opportunity  like this, they’ll definitely be itching to pull those triggers,” her tone a mix of frustration and determination.

It seemed an impossible task—Frank and Amanda against the whole town of Maywood, all of whom would like to see Krom taken down.

Amanda hurried over to their own gun cabinet and swung open the doors. Reaching inside, she pulled out a tranquilizer pistol and an empty magazine, tossing them both to Frank with a sense of urgency. “Load it,” she commanded. Frank caught the items and immediately began inserting the cartridges. Grabbing a tranq pistol for herself, Amanda mirrored his actions. She swiftly loaded five cartridges into the magazine, the maximum capacity. They both dropped them into their lab coat pockets.

As they prepared, Amanda's mind raced. She knew they had to act quickly if they had any hope of saving Krom. The thought of Krom brought a flood of memories from her time at Bentuk Labs.

Bentuk Labs is a world renowned research company hosting some of the world’s top research facilities. Amanda, a slender woman in her thirties with dark hair and brown eyes, had come to Bentuk as her second job out of grad school.

Frank, a former scholarship tennis star of about the same age, joined her about two years later. She and Frank run Bentuk’s veterinary section. Amanda is the director and Frank her assistant. They test and create veterinary medicines, devices, and procedures. Their primary focus, however, is animal behavior research.

Amanda is in charge of the KROM project—Knowledge Representation & Optimization Mapping. It’s an initiative designed to teach a gorilla how to use an AI feedback system to enhance its knowledge and skills. Apes and humans alike don’t optimize full use of their brains. KROM specifically designs training modules to tap into the dormant parts of Krom’s brain. Krom interacts with the AI system through a smart collar and a laptop.

At the technical level, the AI system maps Krom’s brain, both physically and as a conceptual framework—two interactive maps. This mapping is used to target Krom’s training so that every neuron in Krom’s brain works at peak efficiency.

Amanda found herself lost in nostalgia, remembering the day Krom arrived at the lab as a newborn, when Frank's voice jolted her back to reality.

"What's the plan?" he asked, his tone tinged with urgency.

Amanda paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. Then she answered with confidence and resolve, "We can track Krom."

“You implanted a tracker on Krom?” Frank asked.

“No,” said Amanda. “His smart collar.”

“A GPS chip on his collar?” Frank adjusted his glasses with his finger, sliding them up the bridge of his nose.

“Not exactly. The voice box and camera on his smart collar run off the same operating system as our cell phones, so it’s pretty simple. I can log into his system from here and can activate the GPS and WiFi. We’ll be able to track him on our main systems locator map.”