Rectify: A Novella

by Druga, Jacqueline

  The old man was on the bed, his back propped up against the pillow. His head flung back, as he groaned out. Mrs. Anderson was in a nightgown. One of those flowery things that came to just below the knees. Her veiny white legs poked out as she bent over the bed, head toward his lap.

  Then Mr. Anderson brought his head forward and looked at the Major. “Help me.”

  On his words, Mrs. Anderson turned quickly and jumped to her feet. Her eyes streaked with bloody tears, mouth open, silently snarling with a mouth full of flesh.

  One shot, one single shot to the head and Mrs. Anderson flew back out of the way. Stan was able to get a clear shot of Mr. Anderson on the bed. The sheets were saturated with blood and what remained of his legs seemed to absorb into the fabric. There wasn’t much left. Everything from the hips down was mere bones.

  “I … tried to help her,” Mr. Anderson said. “I woke up and she was ...” he sobbed. “Help me.”

  Major Tom aimed his weapon. “Rectify,” he whispered and fired a shot into Mr. Anderson’s forehead.

  Stan shut off the camera.

  13 – SWEEP

  It didn’t smell pretty and June had to brace herself every time she walked into the third floor ward where the six test subjects, including Mrs. Logan, were.

  She didn’t fear them, she feared smelling them. She stopped by the ward each night. Most of the time it was just to peek in and check, and once a night she documented progress. June was certain, in due time, she would be able to turn over her findings to the CDC.

  Calming them, made them less deadly. That was important.

  Stacey Logan hadn’t been around. Her and her son were given housing for displaced survivors. She told June, “I agree with everything you’re doing. I see what you are doing … but for my son’s sake I have to get away from here.”

  June understood. For her children’s sake, she would do anything, too.

  She peeked in the window of the former nursery before she walked in. The subjects were on leash style restrains and wandered in small circles. All except for Mrs. Logan, she sat in a chair, looking out the window. Sitting was something Codies didn’t do.

  She wondered how they would react when she walked in. Not that they had charged for her, but June never let her guard down.

  They only grew agitated when they were hungry. To keep them fed, June used the amputated limbs of bite victims. As long as the limb was given to them within a couple hours of amputation, the subjects ate it. But had it been longer, they balked at it.

  It didn’t take much, only a small amount curtailed their agitated state.

  Slowly, she walked in, staying in the center of the room and out of their reach. They all looked at her for a second, then returned to pacing in circles. June lifted the recorder from her pocket.

  “Day five,” June spoke into the recorder. “Subjects remain calm and show no signs of violence or a threat. They do, however, seem to be showing signs of decomposition, albeit much slower, but they are decomposing.” She walked by each of them, still keeping her distance, yet pausing to look and examine their faces, and hopefully expressions. “No cognitive improvement or deterioration.” June stopped by Mrs. Logan.

  Mrs. Logan went from looking out the window to looking at June.

  “How are you Mrs. Logan?” June inched closer, staring into her eyes. “You see me. You know me. Do you know …” She shut off the recorder, put it in her coat pocket and when she pulled out her hand, she withdrew a photograph of Stacey. “You know her, right?” She brought the photo closer to Mrs. Logan. “Do you know her?”

  Slowly, Mrs. Logan lifted her hand. Her index finger extended toward the picture.

  “You are there,” June said. “You’re in there. Now how do we get you to progress?”

  “June,” Doctor Ung called out her name.

  It startled June and she jumped.

  “You’re too close to her,” Doctor Ung said.

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “You should be.”

  “No.” June shook her head. “Look at her. I swear, James she knows what’s going on. Look at her eyes.”

  “June, while I agree that she’s calm and docile, I still am not convinced that she is in there.”

  “She is. I’m certain. I wish there was a way to prove it. Then maybe we keep them this way until a cure is found. The question is, how can we get her to improve?”

  “We can’t. That’s pure science,” Doctor Ung replied. “I think the biggest reason they get to this point is because of that window of time before revival when the brain is dead, when everything is dead. It comes back, but not all the way. If only there was a way to keep the body alive or comeback faster.”

  “Like a de-fib?” June asked.

  “No, it would have to be constant and longer and … the reason I’m up here isn’t to discuss these subjects. We have a full house downstairs and you’re needed.”

  “Okay, I’m done up here for now.” She handed the picture to Mrs. Logan. Slipping it into her fingers. “I’ll be back.”

  Doctor Ung moved to the doorway and waited for June.

  She stepped out pulling the door closed.

  “Are you alright?” Doctor Ung asked.

  “Yeah, I am.” She walked down the hall with him.

  “I was a little worried you weren’t in your right mind. I mean your mother is at your house.”

  June paused by the stairwell door. “How did you know?”

  “Your lunch bag had your name on it. Very telling,” Doctor Ung said. “Why is she there?”

  “Aside from the fact she’s my mother? Stan’s been working on this assignment with a R-Team, and he’s been out at all hours. I called my mom to have her sit with the kids.”

  “That’s really dangerous.”

  “I know.”

  “How long will he be doing that?”

  “He’ll go out tonight for a late raid. It will be his last one. Thank God.” They stepped from the stairwell onto the main floor where the ER unit was.

  As they approached the desk, June saw a military man heading her way.

  “Doctor June Mannis?” The soldier asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m with the R-Team, my name is Major Tom Leland.”

  When he walked by them, Doctor Ung softly sang, “This is Major Tom to ground control.”

  Tom looked at him. “Funny. Anyhow …” He looked at June again “We have a report that you are harboring revived.”

  June laughed. “This is a hospital, Major, I am pretty sure that at any given point in time we are harboring a revived.”

  “Ma’am, you are aware that it is a federal offense to harbor revived.”

  “I am well aware.”

  “We have a report that you, personally are researching and experimenting on revived.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Ma’am,” Tom was firm. “Please. I’m here alone. No team is with me. I am handling this by myself out of respect to your husband who has been accompanying my team the last several days. Let’s handle this and get this done. No charges need to be filed or arrests made. I’m going out on a limb here.”

  “And I appreciate that, but again,” June said. “Your information is incorrect. Someone is lying to you.”

  Tom huffed, reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his phone. After fiddling with it for a moment he showed it to her. On the screen was an image taking in the ward of June and a revived. “Would this image lie?”

  June didn’t reply.

  “Take me to the third floor ward.”

  “Major …”

  “I am authorized under federal law …”

  “This is research.”

  “Then show me your sanction documents.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Take me to the ward … please.”

  June felt beaten. She nodded, informed Doctor Ung that she would be back and then quietly led Major Tom to the third floor.

  Once they arrived, out
side the door he drew his weapon.

  “No.” June begged. “Listen to me. You see them all the time, right? They are different.”

  “They are revived.”

  “Yes, but listen.” June blocked him before he went in. “They’re calm. They don’t attack.” She began to speak rapidly. “I … I give them a high dose of medication, like Xanax, they’re calm when they pass and so they’re calm when they revive.”

  “Most derivation cases are.”

  “These are progeny.”

  Major Tom paused for a second. “Still, they’ll be that way until hunger strikes.”

  “We keep them fed. Minimal amounts will do that and …”

  “I don’t even want to know how. I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

  “Because their hearts still beat. If only a few beats, they beat. If we can keep them in this state until a cure, we can reverse it.”

  “Can you reverse the decomposition?” Tom asked. “Please … step aside.”

  June’s heart sunk, she felt horrible, like she had betrayed those in the room.

  He walked in first, and in the few seconds that June remained in the hall, she heard the shots fired. Each one made her jolt, each one fired through her own being with defeat. She wanted to cry, scream out.

  After several shots she raced into the room.

  Four of her subjects lay on the floor and Tom fired at the fifth.

  When he moved to Mrs. Logan, June raced over.

  “No. Please. No.” June held up her hands. “Look at her.”

  Mrs. Logan sat in the chair and raised her eyes.

  “She’s holding a picture of her daughter. Please.” June begged. “You have to see. Take a look. A good look. She’s different. She’s in there. Look at her eyes. She’s in there.”

  June saw it. Major Tom held his aim steady but was locked in a stare with Mrs. Logan. He had a look on his face as if he were studying her.

  “You see it,” June said. “I know you do. You see it, right?”

  No answer.

  “Right?”

  “Rectify,” Tom said in a whispering voice and then … he fired.

  14 – SLAM

  No one would have ever given June the nickname of Scrappy, she just wasn’t a fighter or physical person. She found it best to unleash any anger through written word, some would call her a pacifist, but she wasn’t, she just knew her skill set for physical confrontation was bad and she never wanted to take a beating.

  But she did anyhow, without ever lifting a finger. In the former nursery ward, June felt as if she were kicked in the gut.

  Physically her body shook, her knees weakened and she grasped onto the med cart, nearly toppling to the floor. The cry she released was silent, her jaw tensed and she just wanted to scream. June didn’t understand why she felt the way she did. She had no emotional attachments to the subject. It was a way of feeling hope. That maybe ... maybe if she just made progress not everyone would have to die.

  “I apologize,” Tom said to her. “I realize this was your work. I understand what you were trying to do.”

  June raised her eyes, when she did she saw Mrs. Logan. Her body slumped in the chair, head to the side.

  “How many times …” June’s voice cracked. “How many times have you seen a Codie sitting?”

  “What?”

  “How many times? That woman was sitting, staring out the window, holding a picture of her daughter. I will tell you what I told everyone else … her heart was still beating, whether it was one beat per minute or a hundred, it still beat.”

  “She was in necrosis.”

  “Her heart still beat!”

  “I’m sorry. I was doing my job.”

  “It’s not your fault, is it?”

  Suddenly, June felt enraged. She hurt for Stacey and was angry for Mrs. Logan and any progress her off the grid research was achieving. She stood and raced from the room with one focus in mind.

  Patrick.

  For the first time in her life, she struck someone.

  It wasn’t just a hit, it wasn’t a slap, full might, closed fisted, June put all of her body weight into her swing as she sailed her fist into the side of Patrick’s jaw. He teetered back and she tackled him.

  She literally saw red as she straddled over him, hitting him again and again.

  Patrick raised his hands in defense, trying to fight her off.

  “Someone get her!” he shouted.

  Doctor Ung tried to pull at her, but she swung back, then hit Patrick again and again.

  Major Tom stepped into the mix, grabbing hold of June and lifting her with ease.

  “Enough!” He blasted as he set her on her feet. “Enough! Do not … make me arrest you.”

  “Fucking crazy,” Patrick stood up. “Arrest her.”

  “Let it go,” the major said.

  “Let it go?” Patrick touched his bleeding lip. “I will have your license for this!” he pointed.

  “You did this. You reported me.”

  “Yeah, yeah I did. And not only were you doing something illegal, you’re crazy, you know that. Crazy!”

  “You caused them to be killed.”

  Patrick laughed. “Them? Like they’re actual people? They are an abomination. They aren’t human.”

  “Yes, they were. And what I was doing was trying to maintain them enough until the cure was found. I was saving them. Mrs. Logan … Mrs. Logan knew things. She looked at me as if trying to tell me something.”

  “What the hell, June?” Patrick shook his head. “In what warped world do you live? If … if they had some semblance of their old self in there you weren’t saving them … you were condemning them to a life in a rotting shell. If she looked at you it was her begging you to set her free.”

  June stepped toward him again, Major Tom blocked her.

  “Go home,” Tom said. “The curfew is done, sun is up, go home. Now.”

  June looked at Doctor Ung.

  “As much as we need you here,” Doctor Ung said. “Taking a break is probably best right now. I’m sorry.”

  “I am, too.” June nodded and took a step away.

  “June,” Doctor Ung called after her. “Your hand. It’s bleeding pretty bad.”

  June looked down, her knuckles were split wide and bleeding. “I’ll be okay.”

  “June those are open wounds let me …”

  “I’ll be fine.” June stormed away. Before leaving, she stopped at the rest room, quickly rinsed off her hand and wrapped it in paper towels. It didn’t hurt, but she supposed when her adrenaline slowed she’d feel the pain.

  Her shift wasn’t over, she still had an hour, but it was truly best if she left.

  The entire ride home her mind raced. Was she insane, or was she really making a difference? Everything looked different when she left. Daily she would pass soldiers gunning down Codies, but on this day, when she saw it, she didn’t see them as protectors, she saw murder.

  This wasn’t right.

  June needed to get her head straight.

  Somehow, somewhere she lost her perspective.

  As she approached her house, she was taken aback by the fact that the shutters were still drawn, as were the bars on the door. She rationalized it was because it was still early, after all, she wasn’t due home for a couple hours.

  Adding to her confusion was the open garage door.

  She pulled up behind Stan’s car and immediately got the sensation that something was wrong. She carried a tire iron in the front seat for protection, and she grabbed it. As quiet as she could, she shut off the car, stepped out and crept around Stan’s car.

  She sighed out in relief when she saw Stan in there.

  He was moving about the back of the garage looking for something. More than likely his stash of weed.

  Stan probably just got home and didn’t have time to open up the house. June walked to the edge of the garage.

  “Hey, Sweetie,” she called out. “Let me know if you’re looking for
the weed, because I could sure use …”

  Stan didn’t just turn around. With almost rigid movement, he spun to look at her. His eyes red, his complexion pasty white and his face blood streaked. He raged her way, but June was quick. She jumped up, pulling the garage door, crashing it down and closed just as Stan slammed into it from the other side.

  June’s mouth dropped open. She didn’t know how to react, the shock of it was overwhelming.

  Stan was infected. How? When?

  Back against the garage door, she bounced with every hit Stan made.

  Then it hit her and June dropped the tire iron, slid down until she sat on the ground.

  June broke down. She needed to do that, get it out of her, so she could be strong when she faced her children and even stronger for when she placed that call for the R-Team.

  15 - BENEATH THE SHEETS

  Only one other time in her life could June recall ever seeing that look on her mother’s face, hearing the desperate, panicked sound to her voice as she raced from the house and gasped out, “June Bug.”

  June was nine the last time that happened. She had been playing in the front yard with her Barbies when a car jumped the curb and hit the next door neighbor’s porch. The sound of the squealing tires and the crash must have sent her mom into panic knowing June was outside.

  She was fine.

  As June sat in front of the garage door, she was reminded of that day when she was nine. Her mother rushed out, calling out her nickname, then when she saw June was alright, she grabbed onto her.

  “I’m fine,” June said.

  Her mother, Linda, whimpered and looked at the garage. “He’s in there?”

  “Yeah.”

  Linda brought her hand to her mouth. “I was so scared.”

  That surprised June because her mother was a tower of strength, never scared of anything.

  “You knew?”

  “It happened so fast. So fast. He came home from work, said he wasn’t feeling well. He laid on the couch, I didn’t think anything of it,” Linda said. “I went back to bed and woke up when I heard this banging sound. Melinda must have hear it too, because when I came out of the bedroom, her door slammed.”

  “Is she alright?”