Number 88

by J D Ozee

  “Terri Anderson, Confirmed dead.”

  Terri’s eyes widened, as she turned her head towards 88. Still holding tightly to her son.

  “Why?”

  88 turned, ready to jump back up.

  “Our memories…”

  He jumped, vanishing in front of them.

  Terri sat there with 23 close to her body. 88 had left her alive, leaving her with 23.

  23 looked up. “Mama, we need to go. 88 told me to run away and hide.”

  Terri got up. Pulling her son along.

  “Where are we going?”

  “A place they will never find us.” Terri called a Taxi and the two left.

  88 waited for them to leave, before he left as well.

  ******************************************************

  “What is it? In remembering what we want to forget.”

  “What can you forget, when you don’t even remember.”

  “Are our memories valid? Or is it all fabricated.”

  “Fabricated memories are just as valid as real memories.”

  “Why are we so different?”

  “Different is only the same in the end.”

  ******************************************************

  “How can we be the same.”

  “For we are one after all.”

  ******************************************************

  Chapter Six

  The sound of glass clinking and metallic chimes made music, in the otherwise silent room. A red head man would pause momentarily to write something down, before going back to his tinkering. The door opened behind him, making a screeching noise. The young man smiled as he walked through the door.

  “Father, what have you been doing all day.”

  The man turned to the boy, who’s red hair was a darker shade then his.

  “Studying my dear boy. I think I have found my answers.”

  The boy looked over at his father, a small smile came a crossed his face. His youthful appearance, masked his true age.

  “You know father, I have an idea. The one you wanted. Why not me?”

  His old man stopped breathing. He looked at his son. The thought had never crossed his mind to use his own son. With that idea, his smile grew larger.

  “I’ve never thought of it before.”

  His son sat down looking at the papers, re-reading his fathers work.

  “But then again, I’m just content not being one of my projects.”

  The younger man’s eyes widen and his skin paled when he heard a click. The young man looked behind him.

  “Father, I was joking.” Trying to crack a smile, but the look on the man’s face told otherwise.

  His father walked forward. “You’ll see her soon. Then we will be a family again.”

  The young man pressed against the desk, looking for something to throw. In his blind luck, he found a metal bin. He tossed it at his father, while the gun discharged. A clang was heard, making contact with the bin. With the freedom to escape in reach, he just dodged the first of six bullets he knew was in there. Passing by the man he called father, through the door he came through.

  He ran with such speed, that he could not stop before hitting a wall full force. Falling to the ground, he got up. Seeing his father was close behind him.

  “Shit!!”

  He got to the outside world, the snow falling from the dark sky’s. He ran down a dimly lit ally way. He saw his exit at the end of it. But a single shot rang in the night, as it seemed to echo in his ears. The pain was short, as it was unreal to him. Someone close, his own blood, shot him. He slowly staggered as his world started crashing down. The snow below him, dragged him down. Hitting the cold, unforgiving snow. He came to rest underneath a street light. His gray eyes staring up and the dim light. Blood was rushing out, making the snow around him tinted pink. Then his reality hit him.

  “OH GOD.”

  Blood trickled out as he spoke. Talking to someone who wasn’t there. Seeing his breath slowly fade away with white puffs.

  “I….I think I’m dieing.”

  He looked up at the streetlight, one of the last few things that would be burned into his mind before death.

  Error 06

  ******************************************************

  “You know who I am yet?”

  “I am starting to, and I fear it.”

  “Why is it that you fear it? Is it that you fear who you once were?”

  “More like who you once was. Not me. Not who I am now.”

  “Why not you. For we helped make this nightmare come to life.”

  “No, not me, it was you. You’re the monster.”

  “Monster. Then aren’t we both. The bringer of life and death.”

  “Your problem is you play god.”

  “Then I am your god. I created it.”

  “Then if you are my god, then..”

  “Then what?”

 

  ******************************************************

  Clare looked out the companies building window. She looked down below, at the bottom. There she saw Rod talking to Will. She had wished she could read lips, to at least know what they are talking about. Then again, would she want to. She started walking towards her new office, when the office conversation caught her attention.

  “So, what are they going to the Model Number 85.”

  “Well, she was used for sex, but I don’t think anyone would want second hand goods.”

  “I know man and she’s cute too. But knowing she was that fat bastards plaything..”

  “I guess they will shut her down.”

  “Darn shame, she’s a new Model too.”

  Clare frowned in disgust at her coworkers talk. Was it because she was feeling sorry for the Models now because of Will. Clare moved forward but stopped in the waiting room, to see the said Model Number staring blankly at a wall. Clare, for what ever reason, walked over and sat down.

  She raised her hand up, patting her head.

  “85? Are you alright?” She asked concerned.

  The robotic girl looked at her. A sad face, somehow graced its programming.

  “I want to go home.” She said sadly.

  Clare looked up at the ceiling of the building, sighing.

  “There is no home to go back to. Your owner is dead.”

  85 turned and looked at her.

  “Not that home.”

  Clare was taken back.

  “What home?”

  85 just looked at the wall. Clare grabbed her hand, pulling her along. Making her way down to the parking lot. She was stopped by a booming voice of the rent a cop. Clare cringed.

  “Hello, Randy, what is it that I can do for you?”

  Randy, the fat tub of lard, barked down at the other woman with authority.

  “What are you doing with that thing.”

  Clare smiled. “Well, no one else was going to take her. So I’ll make her mine.”

  Randy eyed her. “Why would you want to take it. What need is she to you. She’s nothing but a sex toy.”

  Clare cringed again. The way the words rolled out like that, she felt like 85 might have gone to Randy next.

  “I want someone to clean my house and keep me preoccupied. Besides I can’t cook to save my life.”

  Randy put his grubby hands in his pocket.

  “There’s no qualification for you to take her out.”

  “Then I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  She grabbed 85’s hand and walked away to the parking lot.

  Randy raised an eye at her. He waited till she was out of sight before he made it back to his little office hidden in the corner. His grubby fingers reached for the phone.

  “Hello, Evanne. Could you connect me to Greg in Electronics.”

  Randy waited till he heard ringing on the other side.

  Randy gave an evil smile. “That bitch took my prize.”

  The phone on the other end was silen
t. Randy’s eyes looked confused, along with his face.

  “Evanne? Hello?”

  Static rang in the phone. Randy hung up, and tried again. This time, nothing, it was dead.

  Randy looked over at his video monitors. They started to white out and fuzz, before going black. Randy put the phone down, pulling out his gun.

  Sweat started to fall down his chubby face, as fear started to creep up. Horror movies passed in his mind, of all the horrors that could be around the corner. He looked around that corner and gave a little laugh.

  “Old boy, you’ll give yourself a heart attack with you imagination.”

  But his heart still raced, then for a moment, stopped.

  It was faint, but he heard foot steps. It was rushing his way. Randy started sweating profusely now. He waited till the footsteps got closer, before he rounded the corner with the gun. He pointed and froze. As did the person on the end of the gun point.

  Randy looked down at a young woman. Her eyes wide with fear, she would have screamed if she had the mind to do so. Anger kicked in.

  “Jesus Fuck Randy, get that thing away from me.” She yelled.

  “Evanne, I’m sorry. I thought…”

  Randy put his gun away. Evanne ran her hand through her short black hair, trying to shake off the idea that her brains could have been of the floor.

  “The power went out in Sector A.”

  She frowned. “A rat hit the breaker. I was told to come down here and tell you.”

  “Why running?”

  Evanne looked pissed. “I have to tell Floor Zero A, to Floor 4 A. So I have to get it done.”

  Randy went to go back to his office.

  “IF that’s all. Then you can do the rest of your errands.”

  Evanne didn’t like the tone of his voice.

  “See ya, fatty.” She left, heading for the stairs.

  Randy was pondering if he should put a bullet in her head.

  He sat back down, hearing the chair screech in pain. He gave out a heavy sigh, before leaning back. He was still angry at Clare. He closed his eyes, letting them relax a bit. He calmed himself down. In the distance, he heard walking again.

  “I’m getting paranoid.” He spoke to himself.

  The footsteps stopped. The next noise he heard, froze him in fear.

  “I don’t think so.”

  His opened his eyes. Looking directly into cold metallic gray ones. A scream tried to escaped from his mouth but a sickening gurgle was heard instead.

 

  A bloodied blade retracted back into 88’s arm, leaving a red line up his wrist.

  88 looked over from his arm, over to Randy’s split head. The blood was gushing out like a river, as the earlier splatter painted everything around them. 88 stared, fixated on the red pool below the body. His mind was trying to recall something again.

  88’s attention shifted when he heard echoing footsteps. Just as quietly as he had gotten there, he had left just as silent.

  The passerby never noticed Randy’s little corner office. Nor did he noticed the sound of dripping that echoed with a soft beat.

  ******************************************************

  Clare was driving her car, with number 85 in the passenger seat. Clare’s heart beat was pumping a little bit faster then she’d felt comfortable with.

  She gave off a soft chuckle. “Feels like I just robbed a bank or something.”

  She glanced over at 85. From some reason she hoped to get a reaction out of her, but nothing happened.

  She turned her attention back to the road.

  “Where do you want to go.”

  “Home.” 85 pointed forward, something on her face showed a ghost of a life.

  “Tell me how to get there.”

  Clare drove, following 85’s directions and these directions lasted far into the night.

  ******************************************************

  Will was on his cell, calling a number over and over again, while driving the car at the same time.

  “Clare, honey, pick up your phone. Where are you. I didn’t see you yesterday and you aren’t in your apartment.”

  He gave a worried sigh.

  “I know I sound like a wife, but I’m worried for you. Call me when you get this and the other 6 or 7 messages I left you. Love you.”

  He hung up and drove into the parking lot of the A block. He found a parking spot and parked like normal. What wasn’t normal, was the smell he smelt when he opened the door. Other passerby’s covered their noises at the smell. Will knew that smell all to well, it was a smell of a dead body.

  “What happened?” He asked one of his co-workers.

  “Some one killed Randy.”

  Will walked over to the office, to take a quick look.

  “Cops not here yet?” Will asked while looking. He cringed a bit seeing the mess. Even more so, knowing who did Randy in, but why?

  “No, just called them.” The person started to freak out a bit. “Do you think its that killer? The one that killed our fellow workers?”

  Will was ready for this.

  “Maybe someone has a grudge against the company. Some disgruntled employee.”

  Will started walking to the stairs. The man looked at him in shock.

  “Where are you going?”

  Will looked back.

  “Up where all the other people are. No way I’m being alone with a dead body with a killer on the lose.”

  Will started back up, but slowed walking. He pulled his cell out of his pocket.

  “Hey Clare, call me Baby. Starting to get real scared here now. Love you.”

  He hung up, having the pit of fear growing even more.

  He heard behind him the man asking him to wait up. A small smile came on his face.

  ******************************************************

  Clare drove to a rich town. Passing by a high school, seeing students heading off to school in their uniforms. 85 looked out the window, as if knowing some of the people in the group. Clare drove around some more, before 85 spoke again.

  “Stop here.”

  Clare did as told. “85?”

  85 opened the car door, not bothering to close it. She ran full speed up six steps, leading to a red painted door. A small cross rested above it, with the words, “Ashley, Our Angel.” embedded in it.

  85 pushed the button to the house as it rang.

  Clare looked on in awe and shock. To see how eager 85 was to reach that door. She looked on, waiting to see what happened next. The red door opened. A man, looked down at the girl in front of him. Tear’s fell down as he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into a hug.

  “Ashley, my baby. How, oh Ashley…”

  85 extended her arms, hugging the man in front of her.

  “Daddy. I’m home.”

  A woman soon joined them. Joined in the tears and shock.

  Ashley looked up at the woman. “Momma.”

  Clare smiled. She was unsure of what to do. She did know she had to go, get as far away from 85. She hoped the company would never find her. The one thing Clare was glad about, was that her previous owner never put a tracking chip in her system. If so, they’d know where she was and take her back, shut her down. Her family would most likely be killed too. Clare reached over and closed the passenger door. She drove away, never looking back at the girl who was returned to her family.

  Clare grabbed her cell, getting read to tell her company that she wasn’t going to make it today. She turned her phone on and smiled a bit.

  The cell spoke back to her in a robotic pitch.

  “You have 32 messages.”

  But her smile fell a bit. She knew who those messages belong to and she know knew what he meant. About how the models are still human.

  When that realization hit her, she also knew now why Will wasn’t afraid of death. She was sure that Will was ready for it, by the creations of their own work. Their own greed.

  She dialed her phone to Will�
�s.

  ******************************************************

  Will sat, waiting. Waiting for what, he wasn’t sure. A call? Any call? A person? Or a Thing? Who’d be there first, Clare, 88, or someone else to dispatch him. There still was Number 89 to worry about.

  He jumped a bit when he felt vibration in his pocket. He gave a little smile, feeling stupid for being scared by a cell phone. He looked at the name and smiled reassured.

  “Clare, where have you been. I was starting to worry.”

  Will leaned back in his chair.

  “You mean you don’t know, Roily Polly’s dead. Someone did him in.”

  Will leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, a calm expression settled in.

  “You know, you had me worried. I thought you had gotten killed too you know.”

  He smiled, looking out at the window of the building. The graying sky made it look like the sun would die out.

  “Be safe, drop by my place when you get back.”

  “Love you too. Bye.”

  Will hung up, still sitting in his chair. He look forward at his desk, his face was very steady. He glanced his eyes at the single door to the room. There stood a tall, older gentle man.

  “Hello, Dr. Ackell. Its been along time.”

  The man walked in, a cane in hand. His dark hair was graying and his aging was graceful then to most men.

  “It has been awhile. I have been preoccupied to grace you with my appearance, Henslin.”

  The smile on Dr. Ackell’s face was unsettling. Will just sat in his chair, looking out the window once again.

  “Its rather surprising to see you out, did something change with 00?”

  “She spoke.”

  Will’s eyes widen. He was expecting no change, hoping for no change.

  “So, she’s awake?”

  Dr. Ackell clenched his cane.

  “No, she’s still dreaming. She’s just talking.” He stopped walking as he too looked out the window.

  “How is your babysitting doing?”

  “You mean looking after Rodney?” Will moved, scratching his neck.

  Dr. Ackell smiled.

  “Yes, that useless man. Has he gone completely crazy yet?”