Assimilation
Page 36
“Shut the door,” Tinks ordered.
He moved against the door to close it, his eyes fixated on the breathing figure. He couldn’t speak and every thought left his mind except:
Up and down. Up and down.
“Is it in any state to be seen, Brigman? Am I going to lift that sheet to find a bunch of gore? If that’s—”
“A bunch of gore?” The doctor interrupted Tinks and walked across to the bed. “I don’t make ‘gore.’”
“You make shells to house damaged brains in nine months. You’ve only had him for three weeks.”
“But I knew, like last time, that he’d need another one sooner or later. So I’d started—”
“You’re a sick fuck.”
“You may not understand or appreciate what I do, but I save lives. I make perfection. And only perfection.”
Andrew shut his eyes as Brigman folded down the top of the sheet.
“There. Tell me that’s not perfect. You never saw him before he started vandalizing himself. I can’t believe what he did to that body in only ten years—”
“As you seem to have forgotten, I’ll bring your attention to the vest I’m wearing. It has twenty-four pounds of explosives that I intend to detonate. So, I’d appreciate if you’d shut the fuck up about my friend. And my appreciation is something you should want right now.”
Andrew felt Tinks’s hand in his, and he allowed himself to be led further into the room. When Tinks stopped, so did he. But he was still afraid, more of what he’d see on the hospital bed than of the death awaiting him.
“It’s okay. It’s not him. But it looks like him. Say goodbye,” Tinks said before raising his voice. “And you, you piece of shit. We’re not terrorists. All we came for is Oz. So get your ass over to that phone and call someone. Tell them to evacuate the building and that I’m blowing it in five.”
“So just call and then I’ll go?”
“No. Just call and I’m blowing it in five.” He laughed. “If you think we’re going to let you get away to restart this shit …”
Tinks’s words faded into incomprehensible white noise as Andrew dared at last to open his eyes.
It is you.
For a moment, he almost smiled. Oz. Not a “bunch of gore.” Not a dead body. Complete and alive. His shaggy sandy brown hair. His tan complexion. If he opened his eyes, they’d be that light caramel color. Yes, the eyebrow piercing was gone, as well as the tattoo on his neck. But these were minor, minor things. Because there was still the perfect shape of his nose and the sharp angle of his jaw line. It was really him.
The feeling of being inches from June Celebration. After I thought I’d never see it or you again.
Andrew reached down and touched his hair. It felt real. He smoothed his fingers across his cheek. The skin was warm, and soft. It was as if he were asleep.
What are we doing here? It’s you. I can’t let Tinks blow you up. You’re real. You’re the same. Two months he said, and you’ll wake up to float through the world once more – bold, handsome, and secure. Everything will be perfect like it was when—
Andrew withdrew his hand. No, things couldn’t be like they were. Was he like Natalie? No. But who was he thinking like?
Robert.
This wasn’t Oz. It was a body that looked like him, but would never have the character he’d filled it with. It didn’t have the scent of an evergreen forest on his breath or the cigarette smoke in his hair. Whatever would fill this shell might resemble Oz, but it wouldn’t be him. Even if it wanted to try. Oz had been more. The person he’d been with Andrew deserved more. And so did the original.
To be able to just be who you are without baggage. Without striving for what you’re not. Charming and seemingly perfect second-version Oz had lived for ten years, struggling to reclaim a purpose in the world. So would third version Oz. And fourth. And fifth. And it needed to stop.
I am not this body. And this is not you.
Andrew recovered the familiar face with the sheet and turned to Tinks, who was blocking the door.
“Did he make the call?”
“Does it look like he made the call?”
The phone dangled off the hook from the receiver and footsteps sounded outside in the hallway. Brigman was crouched in a corner, his hands clasped and his eyes closed.
“Are you ready?” Tinks stepped closer to him. He smiled and held out the ignition switch. “I’ll let you do it.”
Andrew accepted the plastic piece and held his thumb lightly on the button.
This is it.
He felt Tinks’s arm next to him, but he tried to sense Oz. To remember being in his arms and feeling completely accepted. And while he knew it wasn’t him, he took the body’s hand, tucking his fingers inside its warm palm. He took his last, deep breath.
And the building exploded.
Acknowledgments
My gratitude to several on the Momentum team who played critical roles in further elevating this book. Thank you, Joel, for taking a chance on a 140-character pitch. The editing challenges set by Ashley and Tara pushed Assimilation further than I’d anticipated it could go. And without the marketing guidance of Michelle and Patrick, Assimilation couldn’t have made it out into the wild.
I am deeply grateful for the contributions Jayme continues to make in my writing process, including constant support, encouragement, and food left outside my lair. Without her repeated re-readings and corrections to comma placement, Assimilation would’ve remained a random pile of words.
Also thank you to my mom for looking past the prolific use of the “f” word to read the book, and I’m glad that most of my beta readers can still maintain eye contact with me.
Last, but not least, thanks to you for downloading/picking up this book and preventing Assimilation from being relegated to the darkest corner at the bottom of my sock drawer.
About James Stryker
James Stryker lives in small-town Pennsylvania, though he grew up in Ogden, Utah. He relocated 2,000 miles to be with the love of his life (also a writer and more importantly, an expert maker of fajitas). He also shares a residence with a pack of pugs who keep his world full of strange scents and his sweaters covered in fur.
James enjoys writing both short and novel-length pieces of speculative and literary fiction. Themes in his work focus toward diversity in the LGBTQ spectrum and the voice of underrepresented or misunderstood points of view. When not writing, James can be found reading, listening to opera at obscene decibels, wearing pedantic vests/sweaters with large buttons, and trying to figure out who in his neighborhood has fabric softener that smells like Dr. Pepper.
Until he is able to do nothing but write (Walden with Wi-Fi), James is part of the leadership team at a customer service center where his primary responsibilities include coaching/mentoring and ensuring that the coffee pot is turned off on Saturdays. Despite his day job and working on new writing projects, James is never too busy to connect with readers or other writers. He welcomes you to check out his website, www.jamesstryker.com, follow him on social media, or drop a line to his email.
First published by Momentum in 2016
This edition published in 2016 by Momentum
Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
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Copyright © James Stryker 2016
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
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A CIP record for this book is available at the National Library of Australia
Assimilation
EPUB format: 9781760302481
Mobi format: 9781760302498
Print on Demand format: 9781760302504
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Cover design by Pat Naoum
Edited by Tara Goedjen
Proofread by Lauren Choplin
Cover image credits:
All images were edited and/or altered and used without endorsement from the licensor under the Creative Commons License Attribution 2.0.
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