Jek/Hyde

by Amy Ross

  Indeed, Jek appears to be hard at work when I go in to see him, his chemical contraptions bubbling merrily away with a variety of multicolored liquids and vapors. Looking around, I notice Jek has fixed up his glass cabinet, clearing away the shards of glass and neatly taping up the missing panel. But while the lab looks as well cared-for as ever, Jek himself is looking even sicker and weaker than before. I can hardly restrain my gasp at his yellowed, papery skin and sunken eyes.

  Jek glances up at my entrance, but other than that, he barely acknowledges me. It’s a bit of a shock, given what we recently were to each other, but I’ve learned to take Jek’s moods as they come lately. He’s under a lot of stress right now, and the best thing I can do for him is just be a friend.

  “What are you working on?” I ask, grasping for a neutral topic of conversation to set him at ease.

  He gives a half shrug. “Nothing,” he mumbles. “Just keeping myself busy.”

  I notice then that there are boxes stacked haphazardly near his work area, their flaps open, their contents half-disgorged.

  “What about these?” I ask, nudging one with my foot. “Are they part of this ‘nothing’?”

  Jek grimaces. “No,” he says. “Those are all useless.” He puts down the instrument in his hand and gives me his full attention. “Why are you here?”

  His rudeness catches me off guard, but I ignore it.

  “It’s about Lane, actually,” I begin. “I just went up to the city to see him, and it got me wondering—”

  “Don’t talk to me about him,” Jek says sharply, turning back to his experiment.

  “What? Why?” I stare at him in confusion. Jek and Lane have always been close. “Jek, did something happen between you?”

  “That’s none of your business.” He puts down a vial he’s been filling and sighs. “I was sorry to hear about his...condition,” he says, more gently. “He was a good friend. But I don’t know anything about what happened to him, and I can’t help him.”

  For a moment, I don’t know what to say. I’m amazed at Jek’s willingness to simply write off Lane as a lost cause, so much so that he won’t even talk about him. It doesn’t feel right.

  “I don’t believe you,” I say at last, stepping closer so I can read his face more easily. “You know something...something you’re not letting on.” I look at Jek from across the lab bench. “Lane was getting drugs from Hyde, wasn’t he? Was Lane on the same drug as you, or was it something else?”

  “You don’t know half as much as you think you do,” says Jek tightly, fiddling with some dials. “I told you I don’t want to talk about Lane. If you can’t find anything else to say, you might as well leave.”

  “Fine,” I say, grabbing my coat to cover the fact that I’m shaking with anger. “I can see you’re not feeling well today. I’ll try to come back when you’re in a better mood.”

  I start to move toward the door, but Jek steps around the bench and grabs my arm. Up close, I can see now that his face is shining with sweat. My anger dissipates in favor of renewed worry about his health.

  “Lulu,” he says, his voice tense. “I’m sorry. But it’s better this way. You don’t want to be around me when I’m like this.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. A part of me wants to reassure him that I’ll stick by him unconditionally, but the truth is, he’s right. I don’t like him when he’s acting this way, and it makes me wonder if I ever really knew him.

  After a moment he releases me, and I show myself out.

  CHAPTER 20

  I make an effort to visit Jek a few times after that. I feel like I have a duty to sit with a sick friend and try to cheer him up, but every time I go to his door, the memory of that last encounter haunts me, and I feel more dread than pleasure at the idea of seeing him. I’m ashamed to admit I feel a little relieved every time Puloma tells me Jek doesn’t want visitors. I’m more comfortable standing on the doorstep chatting with her than descending the stairs to Jek’s grim sickroom.

  Far from getting better, Jek seems to be slowly cutting himself off from all human interaction, which is what makes it all the more surprising when my cousin Manuel brings him up when we run into each other at the gas station.

  “That friend of yours,” he says. “The black kid.”

  “Jek?”

  “Yeah. Is he all right?”

  I shrug. “He hasn’t been feeling well. Why, did you hear something?”

  “I saw him today,” Manuel says. “He was in the shop asking about some RNAi biopesticide he’d bought from me a couple of months ago. He bought out my whole stock back then, so I ordered more. Last week he came and bought that whole stock, too. I couldn’t understand it. I asked what he’s doing with enough of this stuff to serve an industrial farm, but he doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  I remember the argument I walked in on between Jek and Manuel at the feed store. It sounds like this is a continuation of that.

  “Jek’s not a farmer,” I tell him. “He uses farm supplies sometimes in science experiments, but I don’t know what experiment this stuff is for.”

  “Whatever it is,” says Manuel, “it doesn’t seem to be going great. Today he was pissed. Told me there was something wrong with the pesticide I sold him, and I needed to go back to the original supplier. I told him this batch came from the same supplier. It was exactly the same as before. But he kept insisting that it was different, that there was something wrong with this batch.

  “I kept trying to put him off, interest him in something else, but he was getting really upset. He was making threats, and when that didn’t work, he started begging me. Said it was a matter of life-and-death. Finally I called the company, just to prove to him that I know what I’m talking about. Turns out he was right and there had been a change. But it wasn’t like your friend thought. It wasn’t the new batch that was messed up, it was the old one. It was corrupted. There was an unplanned mutation in the RNA, and they wound up recalling it. I didn’t notice the alert since I was already out of stock then.”

  I press Manuel for more information, but that’s all he knows. I’m shocked to hear that Jek’s been out of the house at all, let alone gathering ingredients for his experiments. I want to believe this means he’s feeling better, but I can’t shake an ugly feeling that something is very wrong.

  * * *

  I wake up Saturday morning to a text from Jek.

  I need to see you. Please come right away.

  I stare at the words for at least a minute. Jek hasn’t invited me over in ages. I don’t dare hope this means he’s getting better, but maybe at least he’s ready to accept some outside help.

  Of course, I text back. I’m on my way.

  But before I’ve even found my keys, my phone buzzes again.

  Wait, he texts. I need a favor. Do you still have my blue jacket?

  I glance around the room and see it hanging on my closet door as it has been ever since I cleaned up from the night he stayed over. With a twinge, I remember that brief moment of bliss before everything went to hell.

  Got it, I text him.

  Bring it to me. Please.

  I grab the jacket and take it with me, tossing it on the passenger seat of my car. As I drive over to his house under amber-tinted clouds, I try to imagine why Jek is suddenly interested in this jacket, after doing without it for so long. I thought he’d forgotten all about it. Is this some new form of madness, brought on by his withdrawal? But at least he’s willing to see me, which is something.

  I pull up at Jek’s and grab the jacket, but something catches my eye as I’m about the slam the door closed: a flash of neon green disappearing under the passenger seat. I lean over and root around on the floor of the car until my fingers find it. After a moment, I grab it and shove it into my jeans pocket.

  I knock at the front
door and Puloma opens it almost immediately. Her glum expression brightens when she sees me.

  “Lulu,” she says. “This is a surprise. But if you’re here to see Jayesh...” She offers me an apologetic smile.

  “Actually, he texted me,” I tell her. “Not too long ago. He asked me to come over.”

  “Really?” She looks puzzled for a moment before breaking into a relieved laugh. “I’m so glad to hear that! I was starting to worry about him, but if he’s having friends over, he must be feeling better. Please, come in.”

  She steps aside and I follow her into the entryway.

  “Has he been...worse, lately?” I ask, fearing the answer despite Puloma’s suddenly cheerful demeanor.

  “Hard to say, really,” she explains. “I’ve hardly seen him all week.”

  “You mean he hasn’t left his room at all?”

  “Oh, he’s been coming out at night to grab supplies from the kitchen,” Puloma clarifies. “You know Jayesh and his mole-person routine. He always does this when he’s sulking or sick. But it doesn’t usually last this long, and a mother can’t help worrying.” She smiles a little as if to ward off any irrational fears. “He’s still getting supplies delivered for his experiments every day,” she goes on, indicating a stack of boxes at the foot of the stairs. “So he’s still working. I know it’s been a tough few weeks for him, and I figure when he wants to talk, he’ll let me know. But all the same, I’m glad to hear he got in touch with you.” She reaches out and touches my hand, letting concern cloud her eyes. “You’ll let me know how he is?” she requests with gentle pressure on my wrist.

  “Of course,” I tell her in what I hope is a reassuring tone. I don’t want to weigh Puloma down with my own concerns, but the truth is, I’m not at all convinced by her optimistic perspective. All I really want is to get down to Jek’s room and see what’s going on for myself.

  Puloma takes me down the stairs to Jek’s apartment and knocks on the door. There’s no answer, only a barely audible shuffling sound. Puloma calls out, “Jayesh?”

  “Go away,” comes a hoarse, muffled voice from inside.

  “He doesn’t sound good,” I say.

  “Could be a cold,” Puloma agrees in an undertone. “Lulu is here,” she calls to him in a bright voice. “She’s come to see you.”

  That muffled voice comes again, closer this time.

  “Do you have my jacket?”

  “Yes,” I tell him, “I have it. Can I come in?”

  We hear some more shuffling, then a click as the lock is released. “Yes,” comes the voice, even more muffled than before. “Just you.”

  I exchange a look with Puloma and she squeezes my arm encouragingly.

  “I’ll be just upstairs,” she murmurs. “If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to call me.”

  I watch her go, then turn back to the door. Taking a deep breath, I turn the knob and push it open.

  CHAPTER 21

  I take a step inside, expecting to be greeted by the heavy stench of illness, but instead there is only the usual aroma of burning chemicals, with something faintly sweet underneath. All around, there are signs of furious experimentation, with boxes from various agricultural suppliers piled up all over the living room. Some of them look as if they’ve been kicked over, and there’s a pile of shattered glass near one wall.

  I move toward the bedroom, expecting to find Jek groaning under a pile of blankets and used tissues, but the bed is neatly made and Jek is nowhere to be found. The only thing out of place is a small, ornately decorated hand mirror on the floor next to the bed, which looks like it belongs among Puloma’s things.

  I head back into the main room, but Jek isn’t on the couch or in his lab. The bathroom door, however, is closed. I take a step toward it.

  “Jek? Are you in there?”

  “Put the jacket on the table and leave,” comes the muffled response.

  “Come out and talk to me, Jek,” I say, trying to keep my voice as steady and calm as possible.

  I hear some movement, but the door doesn’t open. “Just put it on the table and go,” he says. “Please.”

  “No,” I say more forcefully. “I’m not leaving until I’ve seen you.”

  There’s a long pause. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he says at last. “You’ll regret it.”

  I don’t know what he’s talking about, but it’s starting to scare me. How sick is he? I resort to the only ammunition I have.

  “Come out,” I say, “or I’ll call your mom right now and tell her something is really wrong.” I’m halfway to doing that, anyway. Everything about this situation is ringing my alarm bells.

  There’s a long moment of silence, followed by some more shuffling. I hold my breath as I wait, but just as I’ve made my mind up to head back upstairs for Puloma, he answers me.

  “Fine,” he says, sounding grim. “But I did warn you.”

  There’s the click of the latch, the creak of the hinge and he steps through the doorway. I immediately notice his familiar old pajamas and a ratty T-shirt. I don’t see any evidence of sickness... I don’t see Jek, either.

  I see Hyde.

  For a moment, I just stare, my brain fighting to grasp the vision in front of me. It’s definitely Hyde, but he looks different—in fact, I realize he looks healthier than I’ve ever seen him. I remember the sickly yellow cast his complexion had when I first met him, but now his skin is tanned and golden. His features, too, seem inexplicably firmer, more clearly defined. It’s almost like he’s been growing stronger, feeding off the damage he’s inflicted on others.

  Horrified at this thought, I open my mouth to yell for help, but he’s up against me before I can make a sound, pressing me hard against the wall, his fingers squeezed tight around my jaw.

  “Don’t scream,” he hisses in my ear, his sharp citrus scent filling my nose.

  I struggle against him until I manage to get an elbow free and knock him in the ribs. He loosens his grip and I try to wriggle free, but my strength is no match for his. He grasps me harder and wrestles me down onto the couch, where he pins me with the length of his body, his hand still tight against my mouth.

  I can feel his hot, panting breath on my neck, feel the hammering of his heart where his chest is pressed to mine. I try to make some noise around his hand, but he presses in tighter with a wild look in his eyes. Just like that, a vision comes to me of Danny Carew stretched out on that slab, beaten almost beyond recognition. I feel the brute strength of Hyde’s long, sinuous body all around me, and I know how easy it would be for him to do the same to me.

  I force myself to calm down and hold still, though tears of panic and fear leak from my eyes. Gradually Hyde eases off me and turns his attention to the jacket, which has fallen to the floor. He falls to his knees by the couch as he searches the pockets furiously.

  I push myself up into a sitting position.

  “Where is Jek?” I half sob. “What did you do to him?”

  Hyde drops the jacket in a rage and gets to his feet. “It’s not here,” he roars in my face, pushing my shoulders against the couch. “Where is it? What did you do with it?”

  “What have you done to Jek?” I demand again.

  Hyde releases me and spins away, scraping his hands through his hair. “I know it was in there. What happened to it?”

  I pull the green vial from my pocket.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  Hyde turns and stares at me a moment, his eyes trained almost hungrily on the vial. He makes a move toward me.

  “Don’t,” I say through gritted teeth. “I swear to God, I will snap this in two if you take one more step.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he says, but his eyes are wide and he looks panicked.

  “Why shouldn’t I? I don’t e
ven know what it is. It’s worthless to me.”

  He puts out one trembling hand. “Give it to me.”

  “No,” I say, drawing it back. “This is that drug, isn’t it? The drug you had Jek hooked on.” As I talk, I feel my fear sliding away, replaced by a wave of fury. It’s clear that as long as I hold this vial, I have power over Hyde. But that just reminds me of what he and his drugs have done to Jek. I hold the vial up higher before him.

  “He told me all about it,” I continue. “He’s been trying to kick it, and the withdrawal is slowly destroying him. Did you know about that when you started dealing it to him?”

  Hyde eyes the vial a moment more. He lunges for it but I’m too quick for him and duck to the other side of the coffee table.

  “So was it Jek texting me about his jacket this morning, or was it you? Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve used his phone.”

  Hyde takes another step toward me, and I continue backing away, holding the vial up.

  “How long have you been hiding here?” I ask, though I don’t expect an answer. The question is more for myself. Puloma told me she hadn’t actually seen Jek in a while. A dull, clammy horror takes me as I try to figure how long it might be since Hyde got rid of Jek and took his place. But why? Why would he want to be locked up here, in Jek’s house?

  Hyde lunges again, almost catching me off guard this time. “For God’s sake, Lulu. Give it to me!” He’s breathing hard, veins in his neck rippling as he tries to control himself.