The Virus

by Steven Spellman

  Chapter 12

  When Geoffrey came to, he immediately noticed two things. One was an eerie crawling sensation on his skin, as if a thousand more spiders had been added to the ones from earlier, and though they seemed to no longer be armed with the microscopic incinerators, they were still performing what felt like terrain practice on his flesh. The heightened sensation sent a deep shudder through him but did nothing to quell the feeling. The other thing he noticed was that his room now had a small array of furniture in it. Beside the bed he found himself on, he was also now privileged with a small recliner, a settee, a simple rolling table (on it were a few magazines with covers that suggested the information inside was as bland and sterile as this secret facility), and a small desk equipped with two drawers. All of was—of course—white.

  Geoffrey was glad to see that there were some additions to his room, but disappointed to find that two of the most important additions, a television or a radio, were still missing. “Well, at least they gave me something to look at besides four blank walls.” He mused aloud. He got up and scratched his arm to see if it would help stop the invisible roving spiders. It didn’t. He checked the new furniture more closely and found that everything had been sturdily built and that the recliner was fine, white leather. No standard issue stuff here. He checked the drawers of his new desk. Both were filled with containers he wasn’t familiar with, but they looked to be hygiene products he had never seen populating the aisles of any Wal-Mart. He picked up a few of the containers and studied them more closely. The labels had detailed user instructions, but were nondescript otherwise. Geoffrey expected as much. What he didn’t expect was the hand that lighted on his left arm and the voice in his ear.

  “Geoffrey,” said Dr. Crangler. Geoffrey’s heart skipped a beat—a couple of beats actually—and the spot on his upper arm where the suddenly materialized doctor had touched, the same place that he had rubbed too hard earlier in the sterilization shower, protested instantaneously. He nearly knocked Dr. Crangler to the floor in an attempt to shake his hand loose before he could catch himself.

  “Sorry, Son, I was actually trying not to startle you,” said the doctor once he narrowly avoided being assaulted.

  “Well, you failed. Miserably.” Geoffrey observed heatedly, gently stroking his upper arm. “Have you been in here the whole time?” The doctor nodded. “Why didn’t I see you, then?”

  “I’ve already explained to you,” the doctor began, “why everything in this facility has to be white, but one of the adverse effects of that is that when your eyes see little to no difference in their surroundings, they can start to play tricks on you. You’re familiar with what happens when you drive for any distance through heavily-forested routes?”

  “Yeah, you get really tired, really fast.”

  “It’s something like that. Everything starts looking the same and, well, you can miss things.”

  There was one thing Geoffrey definitely hadn’t missed and though it was nauseating to remember, he needed answers. “What was that I saw on the monitors, Dr. Crangler? What happened to that woman?”

  The doctor sighed. “What you saw is what every woman who intends to have a child can expect to happen to her, unless we find a way to defeat this virus.” The doctor sighed again, more heavily this time. He began stroking his chin and though his eyes were meeting Geoffrey’s, his gaze seemed to be focused inward. “We’ve tried test tube babies, in vitro fertilization, everything we can think of. Nothing works. As soon as the eggs are implanted their infected by the mother’s blood and we don’t yet have the technology to grow children completely without a womb…”

  “Is there any way I could be taken out of here for a while?” Geoffrey interrupted. The doctor started at Geoffrey’s voice. He had almost forgotten his presence completely.

  “What was that?” he asked now that Geoffrey had his attention again.

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing some of those heavily-forested areas now.” Geoffrey answered quickly. He had wanted answers but the answers seemed more than they were worth at the moment.

  “We’ll have to see about that,” was the doctor’s only reply.

  “Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, then?” Geoffrey asked, seeing that he could expect to receive no further answers on the subject just now.

  “You’re going to talk to your friend, Mr. Reynolds, today.” Dr. Crangler answered matter-of-fact.

  Geoffrey’s face lit up. “Really?” he asked.

  He was surprised at his own vigor. It wasn’t that he was excited to see Mr. Reynolds, rather, he was excited to see any familiar face besides those of the doctors’. “So, he’s out of his coma, or whatever was going on with him? Is he all right? Does he remember anything?” Geoffrey was almost giddy.

  “No offense, Son, but if I never have to deal with another slew of pressing questions from a patient again in my life, I won’t be too upset.” observed the doctor. “Hopefully, most of your questions will be answered when you speak with him. But, before we go, I need to show you how to use some of the things that have been brought for you.” Dr Crangler reached into the top drawer of the desk and pulled out a rectangular container with a small perforation on the upper side. He pulled out a cloth that resembled a thick paper towel. “I assume you’ve been experiencing the after effects of the sterilization shower?”

  “You mean the feeling that ants have taken over my skin?” asked Geoffrey, sardonically “Yeah, I’ve been experiencing it all right. What the hell is that anyway?”

  “Well, like I said, the human body has long since formed a symbiotic relationship with the microorganisms that the shower rids you of. The sensations you feel are your body’s way of trying to adjust without them. But your body has become so dependent on some of these organisms, that it cannot function properly without them. That’s what this is for.” he gestured toward the cloth that was now sitting atop the container. “These are special. They’re saturated with a unique compound of chemicals that aid your skin in adjusting to the lack of certain bacteria. I developed it myself.” Dr. Crangler beamed just as he did back when he was explaining the Cleaning Lights to Geoffrey. “You are only to use them once a day. Be very careful that you remember that—only once a day.”

  “Oh, don’t worry.” advised Geoffrey, seriously, “After that little shower incident, you can believe I understand the importance of following directions to a tee now.”

  “Good. Good. All right, I’m going to leave you alone for about an hour. As soon as I leave the room, you are to rub this chemical over your entire body. When I return, I will escort you to Mr. Reynolds’s room and I will instruct you on what you are to do. Do you understand?”

  “Sure, cover myself in whatever’s on those towelettes and wait for you to return with further instructions.”

  “Good. Good. I will see you in an hour, Mr. Summons.” Dr. Crangler exited the room.

  Geoffrey watched him as he left and realized it was easy to see the truth of the effects all this white could have on the human eye. With his lab coat, pants, and shoes, the only visible part of the doctor was his hair, and that, too, was not far from white. In reality, it looked like Dr. Crangler had exited as soon as he turned his back to Geoffrey because he blended in so well with the surroundings.

  “What if we’re the aliens?” Geoffrey spoke to himself, as Dr. Crangler closed the door behind him. “What if we’re really the ones mounting the invasion?” It was certainly a plausible question, but not one that Geoffrey’s already taxed mind was prepared to delve into. Instead, he headed toward the desk. He grabbed the thick cloth that the doctor had left out and undressed so he could cover himself in its thick chemical mucous as he was instructed. He had no clock by which to gauge time, but when the doctor returned, he thought that it had been a full hour.

  “Are we ready, Mr. Summons?” Dr. Crangler asked from the door way. “I thought I’d announce myself before I entered your room. It would seem that you can be quite violent when you’re startled.”
Geoffrey figured the doctor was trying to lighten the mood, so he answered in a brief, dry chuckle. The doctor glanced at the desk. The towelette container was back in the drawer, but the one Geoffrey had used was crumpled up on top of it. “Good. Good.” Answered the doctor “I see you’ve used the cleansing cloth.”

  “So, that’s what those nasty things are called, huh?” Geoffrey said, looking at the discarded cloth with more than a little distaste. Whatever mixture of chemicals the cloth was saturated in felt like moist snot on the skin. It was discombobulating in other ways as well. As soon as Geoffrey applied it, it spread on clear and seemed to evaporate into thin air, leaving behind only a sensation similar to being covered in syrup. Moments after application, Geoffrey touched his skin and found that it was perfectly dry as before, even though he still felt the chemical solution quite profoundly. Even now, it was like his skin was gasping for breath beneath the layer of chemical syrup, but as he lifted his arm to his face, there was no smell, no moisture, no sign that he had anything on his flesh besides the clothes he was wearing. “Yeah, this may be good for me, but I’ll tell you what, it certainly doesn’t feel good.”

  “The itching sensation from the shower is gone though, isn’t it?” asked the doctor. Geoffrey thought for a moment. It was, in fact, as well as the raw area on his arm. Both uncomfortable sensations had disappeared.

  “Six in one hand, half a dozen in the other, I guess, huh?”

  “If you say so.” Answered the doctor. He grimaced at having a discovery of his treated so lightly. “If everything is in order, Mr. Summons, then follow me, please.” The doctor, held the door open. As the door shut behind Geoffrey, he heard the electronic locking mechanism kicking into place.

  “You know, you say that we’re here so you can maybe learn how to beat this virus, but it’s really looking like we’re just prisoners here. I mean, can’t I call my dad just to let him know that I’m all right?”

  “Listen, Son, I don’t handle all that. I have enough on my hands as it is…now, pay attention.” They neared another hallway and the doctor stopped. “Now, listen very carefully. The person you are about to talk to is not the Mr. Reynolds that you remember. I’m sure it will be quite a shock when you see him, but whatever you do—whatever you do—do not startle him. He is in an extremely fragile position and it is imperative that we get whatever information we can out of him before we lose him. Do you understand?” Dr. Crangler drew his face close to Geoffrey’s, and Geoffrey was a little frightened by the sudden gravity that filled his features. In the short time he had known the doctor, Geoffrey had never seen him so serious.

  “I understand.” Geoffrey answered, though he really didn’t.

  “Now, I’m going to be communicating with you while you’re in there.” Doctor Crangler handed Geoffrey a small electronic ear bud. “I’ll be walking you through this, step by step. Now, like I said, it is imperative that you not startle him, so I need you to be calm. Take a deep breath.” Geoffrey dutifully obeyed, though it did nothing to calm his increasing tension. “When you enter the room, if he talks to you, talk back, but keep the conversation light. Don’t mention anything that may upset him.”

  “What’s wrong with him? You sound like he’s possessed…am I gonna be in danger going in there?” Geoffrey interrupted.

  “Not at all, Son. Not at all.” The doctor answered hastily. Geoffrey knew he was lying. “Now, all you have to do is stay calm. If he talks to you, talk about whatever he wants to talk about. Tell him whatever he wants to hear. But if he does talk to you, I want you to ask him what has he seen, what has he heard.”

  “What has he seen?” Geoffrey asked, his concern growing by the second.

  “Just do it, Son.” The doctor said, shortly, “This is very important. Billions of lives hang in the balance on what your friend may know. Now, just be calm and I‘ll walk you through it every step of the way. Now, put the earpiece in your ear.” Geoffrey did. “Good. Good. Take another deep breath.” Geoffrey did that as well. He was thoroughly frightened by now, but what alarmed him more, was Dr. Crangler’s behavior. He had never heard him repeat himself so many times, had never seen him so wound up. He almost sounded as if he was the one going into the danger blindly. Geoffrey did his best to steady his nerves (he did a miserably poor job), and followed the doctor down another corridor. At the end of this corridor were two doors. One was the room were Mr. Reynolds was being held, and the other was the observation room on the opposite side of the one-way mirror from which Geoffrey had gazed into the astronomer’s iris-less eyes when they first arrived. Suddenly, it seemed like he had been here for months, years, maybe. As he neared the door to where Mr. Reynolds was, he remembered how he had thought, that the observation room must be the worst room in the world. Now, he felt there was a room worse than that—the one he was about to enter. “Is everything ready?” the doctor asked into the open air.

  “Everything is in place.” A genderless voice answered.

  “Good. Good. Now remember,” he spoke to Geoffrey again, “remain calm. You are in no danger. I will walk you through it, just stay calm.”

  “I will.” Geoffrey lied, as the locking mechanism on the door filled the air with the tell-tale hiss click that it was opening. Dr. Crangler nudged him a little, and he stepped into the room in the dreamlike state of reserved terror. He didn’t know what to expect, but even his wildest fears paled in comparison to what he eventually saw. When Geoffrey entered, he could see Mr. Reynolds’s special seat. It was still facing the one way mirror, was in a seated position, and looked empty. Almost. It looked like it had been lined with flesh colored cloth. The cloth lined the seat and back portion, and a thick strip of cloth lay on each armrest. Geoffrey looked cautiously around the room.

  “Mr. Reynolds?” His mouth was dry. He wet his lips and whispered again, a little more loudly this time. “Mr. Reynolds?” There was a nearly imperceptible grunt from the upper back area of the bed. Geoffrey was about to call for Dr. Crangler and ask him if this was some kind of joke. He had been brought here to speak with Mr. Reynolds, but there was no one in this room, just a strangely-colored cloth-lined seat.

  Instead, he took a closer look at the seat. Now that his nerves had calmed a bit, he could appreciate the unusualness of this bed/seat—or anything else in this facility—being draped with any material that wasn’t white. He took slow, calculated steps toward the chair. As he neared it, it seemed to him that he felt warmer, but not enough for him to be certain. Once he had reached the seat, he noticed that the cloth held a certain vibrancy. He drew closer still and lowered his head to inspect the cloth more carefully. It was glowing, a faint kind of glow that Geoffrey had never seen before, as if a light was stuffed inside the deepest folds of the cloth. The quality of the glow was such that Geoffrey knew the light must be the same as he had seen encasing the fragment. Thinking this over, Geoffrey looked over the rest of the seat. He looked down at the seat and noticed that the cloth was cleaved into two identically-shaped pieces, hanging loosely down to the floor, eerily resembling what flattened human legs may’ve looked like. At that moment, there was another, more profound grunt coming from the upper back area of the chair where Mr. Reynolds’s head would’ve been (if he’d been in the chair, of course). As he followed the thick padding of cloth up to where the grunt was coming, he noticed that this portion as well assumed a strange shape, strongly resembling a flattened human torso.

  A highly unpleasant thought finally coalesced in his mind. He looked into the flattened face of this human effigy and his horror was confirmed. The head of this flattened cloth effigy bore two glowing eyes, the eyes of what was left of Mr. Reynolds and they were looking directly at Geoffrey. Geoffrey started backward, putting about ten feet between himself and the living remains of Mr. Reynolds. One thing, and one thing only, went through Geoffrey’s mind as he stared at the impossibility before him: What the Fuck!?

  It went through his mind so much that when he thought he could finally open his mouth to say Mr. Reynol
ds’s name—to see if it was really him, if he’d respond—the only thing that came out was, “What the Fuck?” He balled up his fists and rubbed his eye sockets with them. He did it a second time. Sure enough, the impossible reality before him was…well, still before him. “Mr. Reynolds?” he finally gasped. The glowing eyes were intent upon Geoffrey, but the only audible response was the same faint grunt. Geoffrey took a single step closer. Now that he was sure that this patch of flesh cloth, this…this thing, was a living person, a living person he had once known, he felt incredibly sorry for Mr. Reynolds. He took another cautious step forward. His entire body was trembling badly, but he paid it no attention. From the other side of the one way mirror behind him, multiple sets of eye watched (chief among them, Dr. Crangler) as he took yet another calculated step forward. The spectators on the other side of the mirror heard every sound made in Mr. Reynolds’s room. They heard Geoffrey whisper Mr. Reynolds’s name a third time.

  They clearly saw everything as well. They saw after this third whisper from Geoffrey, he straightened up stiff as a board. Geoffrey looked around frantically in every direction as if he was hearing something, though the men on the other side of the mirror only heard Geoffrey’s frantic shuffling. Then, he clapped his hands over his hears. “Stop!” he yelled, “Stop!” One of the spectators on the other side of the mirror jumped from his seat and was about to go remove him from the room, but Dr. Crangler lifted an authoritative finger.