by Schow, Ryan
The idea that two minds were better than one is what saved Georgia’s life. That and Cameron was every bit the genius as Gerhard. Although Gerhard would never admit it.
Within days, they fused genetic material from the five year old’s DNA with Georgia’s DNA. This was genome sequencing 101, the rapid introduction and integration of new genetic material from one person to another. The super virus they used to deliver the new genetic coding (the only way to make sure it spread and replicated properly) was a super virus worse than AIDS, small pox, or even the black plague. It positively scared the shit out of Gerhard. Cameron said it would be okay. That it was stable. He said the super virus was created in the same labs as the original AIDS virus, so it was safe if handled properly. Tangible, successful results occurred in days rather than weeks, a feat Gerhard could not seem to grasp.
Georgia’s body took to the genetic sequencing nicely until the external anomaly appeared: a set of perfect circular rings (like the rings of the old stove top burners from the seventies) imprinted in the palms of Georgia’s hands. There was one on each palm, with a circumference of only two inches..
“What do you think that means?” Cameron asked. He was looking at Georgia again. At the crop circle design of flesh on the surface of her palms. Gerhard, who knew his fair share of human genetics, said nothing. The silence grew into this immeasurable thing between them. Finally he strolled over to the glass canister and began the sequence that would drain the pink fluid.
Soon Georgia was on the table. She lay naked, a girl so lovely and so perfect looking, she could be Georgia’s more beautiful sister. Or a close cousin. Her hair was blonde, thick and wet. It lay like a mop on the stainless steel gurney. Her body was stretched out, the structure more perfect and shapely than before. For all her beauty, neither man could tear his eyes from the girl’s palms, which both faced upwards.
Gerhard finally touched the circular flesh pattern. The hand twitched, and from the raised flesh appeared hundreds of stingers. Both men took a reactionary step backwards.
Cameron drew a startled breath.
Gerhard and Cameron both leaned forward and peered at the stingers. They bore a metallic, almost barbed look. From a distance, they could be fuzzy, like bees’ fur, but upon closer inspection, they appeared menacing, industrial.
Gerhard and Cameron, they weren’t creating a new girl. They were creating a weapon. But whose weapon she would become still had to be determined. Maybe she was no weapon at all. Maybe the skin anomaly was just that: a non-functioning mutation.
Gerhard hoped for the best. He hoped for a human weapon.
Cameron put a hand on her bare belly, just below her breasts. The girl didn’t move. She didn’t even twitch. Goosebumps, however, prickled on her skin and her nipples tightened.
“Don’t,” Gerhard whispered.
Cameron moved his hand along her flesh, over her belly button, not in a sexual manner, but in such a way that she might gently awaken to his touch.
Suddenly the cold, sterile environment chilled Gerhard. And the bright lights, they hurt his eyes.
“Don’t,” Gerhard said again, louder. Inside him, an unexplainable agitation was building. He didn’t know why he was feeling the way he did.
Just as Cameron looked up, the girl’s hand shot out and grabbed the Canadian doctor’s arm. The strength of Georgia’s grip twisted Cameron’s face. He screamed. Then he bucked and jolted, his voice silenced in shock, and Gerhard knew the stingers penetrated his partner’s arm. Cameron’s flesh started to smoke, to blacken.
“No!” Gerhard shouted stepping forward. “NO!”
The girl’s eyes snapped open and they were black and swimming. No pupil. Just the look of a thousand tiny leaches writhing in domed glass. Even her skin had changed pallor. She was tinged in a light grey, her skin taking on a slight transparency. Veins once hidden now became visible against her almost see-through skin.
“Georgia, STOP!”
She stiffened at the sound of her name. The pupils drained, the inky mire of blackness bleeding out before completely disappearing. She blinked fast, her color returning. Her eyes were now the most startling green. He was mesmerized by her gaze, snared in the weight of it. Recognition hit her face and her hand snapped loose of Cameron’s arm. The doctor crumpled to the floor, dead, half his body seared and smoking. But Gerhard could not take his eyes off Georgia.
“Dr. Gerhard?” she said, childlike, innocent.
“Yes,” he replied. He smiled, genuine, soft. Like he did many decades ago to his other patients, the ones whose minds he fractured through torture, trauma and pain. They abhorred him, but they loved him. Those were different times.
She looked around, trying to assess her situation. She should not have woken so early, and she should not have done what she did to Cameron, but she did.
She was superhuman. A killer.
Her skin was still the kind of light, smoky hue like you might find on a rotten corpse. The color was changing back though. Slower than her eyes, becoming brighter. More natural looking.
He went and pulled her fragile body into his arms and said, “You’re perfect, my sweet Georgia. Simply perfect.”
Her arms went around him, too, and she nestled into him, the way a dog moves into his master’s body for comfort.
“What…am I?” Georgia asked.
“My finest creation,” he said.
You Are My Rabbit
1
Autumn LeBeau had been given explicit instructions on where on the internet to order food so it would arrive at Dr. Gerhard’s home, where she was staying, and how to take care of the house and bills while the doctor was in Canada. She was also given books to read, a schedule of television programs to watch and responsibilities around the home. She was under strict orders not to leave his home for any personal reasons.
Not even if it was on fire.
Fortunately, every morning at eight o’clock, and every night at six o’clock, Dr. Gerhard called to remind her of these instructions. At least, her mind told her she was receiving reminders.
The minute she picked up the ringing phone at exactly eight A.M. and six P.M., her dizzy brain would just shut down. Like an ON switch in her head was suddenly switched to OFF. When she came into awareness again, her eyes would be staring at the phone, but no one would be on the line. And she would feel good. Really good. Like she had purpose.
She didn’t know exactly what was said on these phantom phone calls or if Dr. Gerhard spoke at all, but she always felt like he had, and this made her feel more stable. Like she was being looked after. Like she was loved.
What a strange and wonderful thing to feel loved by another while stuck in isolation. As if love alone infused you. Became you. Possessed you.
Living with the doctor, for the short time she did live with him, was so much better than living with the other man, whom she could barely remember. Robert Seabird. That disgusting sloth. Images flashed into her brain. She saw herself clawing at the walls. She remembered wailing, everything in her drained, yet aching. She remembered the relentless sex, the sleepless nights, the bleary eyes from all the drugs and alcohol she was forced to inject and ingest. At some point, some part of her mind reminded her that she tried to eat Seabird’s face. Hatred bloomed like black roses inside her. Sometimes images of this gruesome event tried to overtake her brain, but she pushed them away by pounding on her head. Twice she knocked herself out and ended up on the floor with bruises.
That couldn’t be her, could it? A girl eating a man’s face? She didn’t do that.
Maybe it was a dream.
Was it?
She told herself that was another time. Not even real. Dr. Gerhard, however, he was real. He was now. And then she told herself that with him, she was almost normal. Except for those agonizing minutes at the beginning and end of the day when she stood by the phone. Waiting for what felt like an eternity for him to call.
There were other calls, too. Calls during the day where a different phone
would ring, a black one she kept deep inside her purse. The purse she had no use for since she never left the house. The phone would ring, but when she would pick it up to speak, her mind would shut off. Twice she found the same phone in her hand, and for some reason she was about to dial a number that seemed important to dial just before she blacked out. When she woke up, it was no longer important to dial that number. Did she ever call anyone? Did she ever really speak to anyone? Autumn was losing a lot of time lately and she didn’t know why.
On one of those occasions when Dr. Gerhard called and she didn’t black out, she asked him about it. About the calls she made and received. He seemed concerned, which made her feel good. People showed concern when they cared. She learned that from television. She believed Dr. Gerhard cared for her, but she was not a real person, so was it possible to care for a flesh and blood robot? Real people don’t care about fake people. Ever. They just told them what to do and expected that it got done. Was this affinity she felt for Dr. Gerhard a lie?
When he went to Canada and told her how to take care of herself while he was gone, she nodded her head a lot and memorized her instructions exactly. She wouldn’t disappoint Dr. Gerhard. After he left, she slept in his bed, wore his clothes, pet his cat because doing these things made her feel closer to him.
If he cared for her, he would keep her.
So she went through his things, looking for clues that might tell her exactly how else to please him, and that’s how she found his files. How she learned he was making sick and ugly girls into pretty, healthy girls. How she learned Savannah van Duyn was now Abigail Swann.
A light in her brain flared. Things inside her stirred. Savannah? Abigail. The same girl?
The very same girl.
The minute she connected the dots, it happened. She felt a presence rush up beside her as she fell backwards into sleep.
2
The Gem alter took control of the body. She took the front. As the system manager for this and all Monarch designed slave systems, Gem managed and controlled the multiple personalities created and housed inside the host body. Or in this case, the host woman named Autumn LeBeau.
Gem’s mission when the host woman was sent to Astor Academy was to find Savannah Van Duyn and report her whereabouts. Shelton Gotlieb, her handler at Monarch Enterprises, warned her Savannah might not even be attending the school.
He said, “If you don’t find her, Autumn darling, you will not be thrown from The Freedom Train. This is simply a preemptive measure.”
Purpose and success meant survival. Anything else meant being thrown from The Freedom Train—which was death—regardless of what Shelton Gotlieb said.
Thankfully, Autumn found what she was tasked to find. Now that Gem knew Savannah Van Duyn was in fact Abigail Swann, she picked up the phone and made the call. A man answered. Her handler/programmer: Shelton Gotlieb.
“Identification and pass code,” he said. Autumn’s mouth recited the identification sequence—a series of numbers and letters—then she recited the pass code: Umbrella. Over the phone line, a series of noises hummed and clicked, but then they stopped, indicating the secure line was active.
“Gem, proceed,” he instructed.
“I have news about Savannah Van Duyn.”
Upon saying these words, Gem was swiftly dragged under, as if swallowed by some kind of a dark tidal wave. A new control program emerged, ferocious, nearly seamless.
Gem2Override.
This was not a personality, but an emergency protocol created by master programmer Wolfgang Gerhard. Gem2Override was tasked with explicit instructions to override the system’s control alter, Gem, in the event information about Savannah/Abigail—or any of Gerhard’s girls for that matter—was discovered. In this case, protecting Savannah Van Duyn’s new identity triggered the emergence of the Gem2Override.
“Report,” Gotlieb said, intrigued.
“I don’t have any news,” Gem2Override said, the voice sounding almost exactly like Gem’s. “The system experienced a minor malfunction. As of this moment, the system is re-stabilized and there is no purpose for this call.”
Gem2Override heard Shelton Gotlieb blow out an exasperated sigh.
“Come home, Gem,” Gotlieb finally said, sounding tired. He always said this, not because he expected her to comply—she wouldn’t—but because he was frustrated Gerhard had overridden his programming and was keeping Autumn for himself. Inside, Gem2Override knew Gotlieb had emotions for the host girl. The memory banks inside the host girl’s broken brain showed the two of them engaged in programmed sexual activity.
Gem2Override remained silent.
“At least tell me where you are,” Gotlieb said. There was an edge of sadness in his voice, the faintest traces of resignation.
“I don’t know where I am,” Gem2Override said, even though the program knew exactly where it was. Where Autumn was. “I think I’m in New York. But it could be L.A.”
“I have a mission for you,” Gotlieb said, still sounding downtrodden.
Gem2Override was programmed to allow Autumn LeBeau to participate in sanctioned missions with Monarch Enterprises, so long as it bore no conflict with Gerhard’s interests. Gem2Override’s only stipulation was that it return the host body to Gerhard’s home and to never reveal its whereabouts when off-mission.
“Proceed,” Gem2Override said.
“This is an off-the-books mission. A mission meant to secure Monarch Enterprise’s interests and should be kept confidential from all sources, including Monarch Enterprises and Dr. Wolfgang Gerhard. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“You report only to me.”
“I understand.”
“When the mission is complete, you must remember to forget.”
“Remember to forget,” Gem2Override said.
“I’ve located the two remaining members of the Virginia Corporation and have selected them for elimination. Use the Delta alter to terminate them with extreme prejudice.”
“Why?”
“Excuse me?” Gotlieb asked, as if Gem would never ask such a question.
“Why is this off-the-books?”
“You’ve never asked me this before, Gem. Is your system stable?”
“It is.”
Gotlieb expelled a huge sigh. Gem2Override did not fill the empty space with talk. It simply waited. Then Gotlieb spoke.
“I am tasked with eliminating a person I cannot find, Savannah Van Duyn. I do not want to kill her, but that was an errand I stupidly accepted. The contract was taken out by the Virginia Corporation, but most of their members are dead or gone. Atticus Van Duyn is in the wind. And Christine Kennedy jumped to her death—no surprise there. Warwick Bundy, he was murdered in Prague, next to Savannah Van Duyn, but not the real one. An imposter. Though I can’t find the real Savannah Van Duyn, I found Jamison DuPont and Tate Russell. If I kill them, and the Virginia Corporation is dismantled to the final member, then the contract on Savannah will no longer be necessary and you can come home.”
“I understand.”
“The Director of Monarch Enterprises said to pull a rabbit out of a hat. This is my hat and you are my rabbit.”
Gem was shoved deep into the woman’s mind. Deep into the system. Gem2Override pulled her to the surface so she would understand the mission.
“Mission parameters?” Gem2Override asked when Gem was present.
“What? I just told you your mission.”
“Please repeat,” Gem2Override said. The alternate program was doing this for Gem’s sake.
“Are you sure your system is functioning properly?”
“One hundred percent,” Gem2Override said with confidence.
“Kill Jamison DuPont and Tate Russell using the Delta alter. Use extreme prejudice. I will text you their locations.”
Gem2Override said, “You will text us their locations?”
“You,” he said. “Not us.”
“Me.”
After a long bought of silence, Go
tlieb said, “When can you come home?” His voice was a plea. It bore the sound of longing. Gem2Override shoved Gem back down.
“I don’t know,” Gem2Override answered. Another lie.
The real answer to Shelton Gotlieb’s question was never. As in: the Autumn LeBeau system was never going back to him.
A moment later, Autumn’s burner phone vibrated and a text from Shelton Gotlieb appeared. It contained those instructions he had promised.
All the Pretty Roses
1
Netty calls to say she is coming over that night, but when the doorbell rings it’s Jacob instead. He looks good. Really good. His short friend isn’t with him, and he looks more than casually dressed. Like he’d dressed to impress me. It’s then I remember promising to stop by. Something I hadn’t done.
Dang it.
Seeming nervous, he says, “I was wondering if I could take you out. I know it’s last minute, but I was thinking I’d rather hang out with you than with my friends.”
“I don’t know, Jacob. I’ve got company right now.”
“Who?” he says.
“Friends from school. Brayden and Maggie. Plus Netty’s on her way.”
“You’re still friends with her?” he asks. For a second, I see the old Jacob emerging, the boy I grew to despise. For a boy so desperate to get my attention, it seems crazy to say something like this.
“Is that so unbelievable?” I ask.
“She’s just…she’s, I don’t know…”
“Spit it out.”
“I think she’s mean.”
I can’t help laughing out loud. “That’s rich, coming from you. Savannah Van Duyn is all I have to say.”
“I’ve changed since then,” he argues.
“So you say.”
“It’s true!”
“Why should I believe you? Why should anyone? You’re nice to me, but you don’t know me. Maybe I was once fat and ugly. Maybe I had pimples and a dimpled butt and an ugly face. Maybe I was once the ugly duckling. A guy like you, you would have terrorized me in school, the same way you terrorized Savannah. You probably haven’t changed. It’s just that you want to be with me and you’re putting on airs.”