Stasis (Part 2): Iterate

by E. W. Osborne

  “Mum…”

  With an angry sniff, she wiped the tears from her eyes and gazed up. “I’m living, that’s what’s happening. I’m getting on with my life, for however long that is.”

  The first real pang of worry stabbed Alex through his chest. Mum has a Seed. Why didn’t I get her to switch it off before now?

  “Are you sick? You know there are people you can talk to if…”

  She snorted with derision, looking at him as if he were an idiot. “Don’t be so daft. I know you aren’t that dumb. I’m not sick and I’m not gonna off myself.”

  “Then what?”

  “It’s the bloody end of the world, isn’t it? The whole place is burning down around us!” She slammed her arms down to the side in defeat. “I’m getting on with living until we all run out of time.”

  Alex couldn’t stop the comment before it flew out of his mouth. “Apparently getting smashed and shagging random pissheads is living, eh?”

  She rounded on him faster than he had time to react. Eyes that had been filled with sorrow only moments ago burned with rage. Although shorter, she rose on her toes to meet him face-to-face.

  “You never get to judge me. Not you, not never. I’ve lived. I know what life is. And yeah, it’s fucking hard, but at least I don’t hide from it in here.” She looked him up and down as if he were a stranger and not her own flesh and blood. “So what if I have a little fun before the whole thing goes to pot? I’m making up for lost time.”

  The dagger went straight to his gut. He knew he should’ve tried to calm her down, diffuse the argument like every time before. Of the two, he was the only one with an ounce of self-restraint. But this wasn’t a normal fight.

  “I didn’t ask to be born. I didn’t kill Dad. You always blame me for your shitty life choices but I don’t hear you complaining when I pay for everything ‘round here.”

  His mum took a step back as if the words had delivered physical blows. For a split second, he felt guilty. But like a pitcher, she was only gearing up her momentum for the big throw.

  Her voice came out with an eerie calm he’d never heard before. Every time she’d escalate to the point of screaming. This was worse. “I have a lot of regrets, sure. I could’ve made something of myself. I was smart, you know. I went to college. I had dreams. But I gave all those up when I had you.”

  “Again, not my fault,” Alex cut in. The adrenaline from the argument was getting his heart racing. He’d been standing for a while now and his knees began to ache, but to sit would mean backing down.

  “Nope, not your fault. Nothing is your fault, is it? Everything is beyond your control,” she mocked. She opened her mouth but chose not to voice whatever it was she’d thought. Instead, she turned and continued stuffing clothes into the overnight bag.

  “So your solution is to drink the rest of your life away? Real healthy. Continuing to make great life choices there.” Even he was startled at the bitter hate in his voice.

  She paused, holding a pair of shoes over the bag as if she was lost in thought. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve never stopped to think about it, but everything that’s gone wrong in my life can be traced back to one thing.” She looked over her shoulder at the last word, utter contempt dripping from her gaze. It was the closest she’d come to saying what Alex had known all along. She wished he’d never been born. It severed the final thread that kept them together.

  Alex watched her pack in silence. There was little else he could say that wouldn’t just be for the sake of hurting her. Even now, with his heart heavy and aching, he couldn’t blame her. She was only being honest.

  “Have you ever even been with a woman? Have you laughed? Genuinely, really laughed at something?” She shook her head. He hated the pity he saw in her expression. “I should’ve pushed you harder, made you go out and play football, make friends. You could’ve been so much more.”

  He had no response. He turned all his energy toward not giving her the satisfaction of seeing her words hit home. For a long moment, he looked into eyes that were so similar to his, feeling more alone in the world than ever before. With another sad shake of her head, his mum walked into the hall and down the stairs.

  “I might be back for my things, but we’ll see how it all shakes out, yeah?” He stood at the top of the stairs, her at the bottom. Shadows hid her expression but he knew her well enough to read her body language. With a glance around, she shrugged once. “Guess the place is yours now. Might as well be. You’re practically part of the furniture.” She snorted at her own joke and walked out the front door.

  And those were the last words he ever heard his mother say.

  Alex clenched his jaw and struggled to keep the tears from falling. Even in her absence, he hated giving her any control over his emotions. But the knives she’d flung at him had hit true to their mark. Whether she’d meant to wound him or not, he was hurt.

  Moments of introspection weren’t rare for Alex, but there were definitely parts of his psyche he steered clear of. The tears his mother had coaxed from him made it easier to deeply probe.

  Everything she’d said was true. He always blamed other people for his problems. He never took it upon himself to fix something when it was within his power. He only had to look back to the last countdown cycle on the Stasis site for proof of that.

  Never before had he seen the fork in the proverbial road so clearly. Head down one way, and he’d probably die in that very house. The walls closing in around him, maybe starving to death or succumbing to an illness or injury. If society broke down far enough, he’d probably have to defend the house from looters. He looked down at his round stomach, touching it like it was a foreign but familiar object. I’m not exactly in any shape to protect myself.

  The other road wasn’t as clear. He could stand up, fight, do what little he could to stop whoever was pushing the world to the brink. All the pieces were there for him to grasp, he only had to reach out and begin assembling them. But it meant risk. It could be disastrous. He could fail and let everyone down, him especially. Wrapped in the safe cocoon of his little world, he never stretched himself far enough to risk getting hurt.

  For hours he sat in the same position, thinking. The answer was obvious, but it took him that long to come to grips with the reasons behind it. He sat in the comfort of his own dark room until his stomach began to grumble. The silence of the house felt deeper somehow, more pronounced. He’d always wanted to live on his own, despite his reliance on others. But now alone in the dark, the prospect felt like a lead blanket.

  His mother had already given up on him. If he chose the unclear path, it wouldn’t be because of her, because of the things she’d said before abandoning him. He was doing it because he needed to prove it to himself.

  Once he made the final decision, Alex moved fast. His first act was the biggest and bravest. He dug out an old cuff that no longer fit his wrist. The camera still worked and with a little fiddling, he was able to record a message. He avoided mirrors most of the time, so staring back at his own face was a bit of a shock. Resisting the urge to turn it off, he took a deep breath and pressed record.

  “This message is for Kristine.” He squeezed his eyes shut at the awkwardness. Of course it’s for fucking Kristine. You’re sending it to her. “This is Hypnos. I want to help. Time is really of the essence and the sooner we get this out, the more people we might be able to help. What I’m about to tell you has been successful on every person I’ve tried it on. It’s painless, simple, and only takes a tiny bit of effort. Together we can turn off the Seeds.”

  He paused to swallow, gathering everything he wanted to use to show her the process. His heart raced faster than any flight of stairs could get it going. Just as he was about to jump into the explanation, he thought aloud.

  “Maybe we don’t even need to do this. Maybe I can help you broadcast the sequence directly so all people have to do is watch it.” Forgetting he was actually recording, his gaze drifted to the side as he ran through all the possibl
e problems that method might encounter. After a moment, he shook his head clear and continued. “It’ll need testing, but for now, this is my system for removing the Seed implant.”

  An hour later, he pressed send. He’d thought he might feel a wave of dread, but was surprised to find a weight lifted from his shoulders. It was terrifying and liberating to put himself out there.

  Emboldened by the moment, he quickly typed out a message to Mouse.

  I know you’re out camping, but there’s a reporter I really think you should meet with. You’ve probably heard of her before, but I’ll send over her contact details. She isn’t too far away from you. It’d be great if you could meet up and maybe help each other. I’ve told her about the lights. She might want to do a story on it. Mouse, we could save the world.

  His fingers hovered over the keys as he debated even spelling out the next part of his message. Putting the thoughts to words felt like more of a commitment than actually sending them.

  I’ve been thinking of maybe coming over to the States myself. I have plenty of money saved up and it might be nice to meet in person. You know, before the world ends.

  He read the message over a dozen times, the dark humor shielding his raw vulnerability. Before he could delete any part of it, he pressed send. A lump formed in his throat as he added another part at the end.

  By the way, my real name is Alex. Alexander King. It’s good to meet you. I hope you’re doing okay.

  His stomach audibly grumbled. He looked at the time and was shocked to see he’d actually missed dinner. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d skipped a meal. Strangely, the hunger felt great, cleansing in some way.

  Alex made his way down the stairs, deliberately put on his jacket, and stepped out the front door. There was a kebab shop at the end of the road. Instead of having his meal delivered, he decided it’d be a good idea to walk down and get it himself.

  After all, if this is some kind of apocalypse, I’m gonna need to get a little fitter.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  South Lake Tahoe, CA

  THE SOUND of feet crunching on the gravel drive pulled her from her slumber. The light was different, lower, almost late afternoon. She lifted her head from the kitchen island just in time to see the front door open. At first, she expected Wesley to come through the door. It’d been days since the old man had abandoned them in the cabin. But like an electric jolt, she thought twice. It could be anyone out there…

  She leapt from the chair, expecting a swarm of soldiers or officials to flow in through the opening like a deadly smoke. The chair clanged to the floor with a loud echo. She was half way across the living room heading toward the spare room for Cameron when a familiar voice called out.

  “Pen, what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay?”

  She spun around to see her husband at the door. Bloodied, torn towels hung limply from his hands. His hurt expression changing into confusion then anger.

  “Joey, Christ. You scared the shit out of me,” she gasped.

  Penelope needed a few moments to get her head straight but Joey wasn’t about to grant her the luxury. Her mind churned like stale molasses, struggling to wake up. They’d had a difficult night. Cameron couldn’t sleep and didn’t let her, up all night pacing, pondering, trying to work out who had taken him and where. She must’ve fallen asleep in the kitchen. Her neck was stiff from sleeping on the counter, her heart racing from defending herself against an attack. Still, she backed away as he angrily advanced on her.

  “I can explain.”

  “What do you mean you can explain? Are you okay? What are these?” he demanded, waving the blood-stained towels.

  She wiped the sleep from her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can you take it down a few notches please? You scared me half to death.” A sound from the hallway tugged at her ear. Cameron was in the house, showering by the sound of it, unaware Joey had just barged in.

  Joey stopped his advance but even a few feet away, she could see the muscles working in his jaw. She held her breath, thinking he’d heard Cameron as well. “You leave the city, again. I wake up to an empty bed, again. I haven’t heard from you for days. I thought things were supposed to be getting better, that we’d figured this shit out.”

  She held up her palms, placating, pleading. “Where is Anna? Did you bring her up?”

  “No, she’s at your mother’s…” His voice dropped away, eyes turning to the rags in his hand. “Are you okay? These were all over the driveway when I came in.”

  She took another step back as he advanced, this time to block him from Cameron in the back of the cabin. She spoke loudly, hoping he’d hear and understand the situation. “I must not have put the lid on. I’ve seen a few bears around the last couple days.”

  She’d never seen him this worked up. “Bears? Pen, come on. It’s me. You can talk to me. It’s all over the news. It’s happened to millions of women—”

  “What are you talking about? What’s happened to…” She froze mid-sentence as Cameron called out from the bathroom.

  “Pen? My clothes are starting to smell pretty funky. Do you have any others?”

  Joey’s expression shifted from concern to pure rage at the sound of another man’s voice. While the situation had just gone from bad to worse, Penelope needed to know what had happened on the outside.

  “What do you think has happened to me? Why are you so worried?”

  He fisted the bloody towel, hand trembling as he lifted it to his chest. “Was it mine? Was it…”

  Cameron called out again. Penelope yelled back with a shaky voice, her eyes unflinching from her husband. “Uh, Joey decided to come and check up on me.”

  He appeared behind her, dripping wet. She didn’t have time to wince at how bad that looked. Cameron thrust out his free hand, the other holding the towel at his waist. “Great to finally meet you. I’m…”

  “I don’t give a shit who you are,” Joey snarled, viciously slapping his hand away. “She’s my wife!”

  Cameron glanced at Penelope and laughed, not at all provoked by her husband’s reaction. “No man, it’s not… no. I’m Cameron. We’re old friends. Pen, you haven’t told him about—”

  “Cameron? The Cameron? Ah great, yeah. Terrific. That makes complete sense. Of course it’d be with him,” Joey snapped.

  “What’s that supposed to… no. It’s fine. You two have a lot to talk about. I’ll give you some space.”

  Joey clenched his fists tightly but thought better of attacking. Penelope gave chase as he spun on the ball of his foot.

  “Please.”

  “That’s alright. I’m leaving. You two are clearly busy.”

  She was desperate for him to at least hear her out. “Joey, wait. I can explain. You remember the whole catatonia thing I’ve been studying? Please! Just listen to me!”

  He rounded on her, his full size towering over. He pressed his stiff fingers into her collar, jabbing and pushing his point home. “Of all the people you could’ve picked to cheat on me with.” She tried to put some distance between them, the fire in his eyes a touch too frightening. “I need to know if it was mine. Was it mine or his?”

  The scientific part of her brain kicked on. Something happened with pregnancies. Millions of pregnancies? Could this have been…

  “Pen, so help me, God.”

  “I honestly don’t know wha—”

  The next few moments happened in a blur. Joey shoved her away with an angry shout. She’d never be able to forget the disgust and contempt on his face as he threw her away. Cameron blew past her, a naked streak flying at her husband. His momentum carried them into the refrigerator where they grappled. She yelled for them to stop, worried Joey was going to get the worse end of the fight. She didn’t even notice the old man approach from behind.

  With as much speed as he’d shown when attacking Cameron, Wesley pounced on her husband. He wrapped one of the bloodied, discarded towels around his neck and squeezed. Panic flooded Joey’s eyes
. It only took Cameron a second to react. His fist flew through the air and connected squarely with Joey’s temple. His body slumped against Wesley and slid to the floor.

  The air was filled with heavy panting as they caught their breath. The two conscious men gave each other a nod of appreciation before wordlessly setting to work. The scientist made a quick job of binding Joey’s hands while Cameron collected the pillowcase and headphones with which he’d been held.

  “What are you two doing?” Penelope squawked, hating how shrill she sounded.

  “He has a Seed, right?” Cameron asked as he unfolded the pillowcase.

  “And he hasn’t tried to disable it?” Wesley added.

  “I have no Earthly idea what the fuck is going on.” It was as if her brain couldn’t trust her eyes. There was no way her husband was knocked out on the floor of their cabin, bound and gagged by these two… partners in crime.

  They hefted him up and carried him to the sofa to recover.

  “Let’s pray he doesn’t wake up angry,” Cameron said, standing unabashedly naked over the kidnap victim that was her husband.

  “And while you’re speaking to imaginary, invisible entities, send a prayer up that no one tries to turn off the Seeds,” Wesley muttered from the other side of the room. The pair turned and looked at him questioningly. He grumbled, frustrated he had to explain every little detail to them. “If the Seed goes into hibernation, that’s it. Nothing short of cracking open a person’s skull is going to get that thing out, and we saw how well that worked without it being prepared for attack. As long as they remain switched on, we still stand a chance.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  WHEN THIS STORY first popped into my head, my main goal was to capture a specific feeling. I wracked my brain trying to think of a way to describe it, even a simple word, and continuously came up short. By chance, I received the coolest birthday present and tucked away inside, was that very word.