by Gayle Katz
***
I wake up. My eyes pop open. Covered in our comforter with my fluffy pillow under my head, I am relaxed and happy. I sit up, stretch my arms, and look around. Everything is perfect. I’m in bed with Jack and we’re back at our place in the States. He’s sleeping soundly, as evidenced by the occasional snore or two. I smile. Was everything from before just a horrible nightmare? Suddenly, a feeling of dread pokes through my peace of mind. I’m conflicted and I don’t understand what’s going on. Everything still seems fine, but I’m suspicious.
As I’m trying to make sense of the situation, I hear another snore. Out of habit, I look back over to Jack and I’m frightened to see someone else sleeping next to him. Even more disheartening is who it is, snuggled up by his side. It’s me. That can’t be right. I see myself on the other side of him? Am I dead? Am I going crazy? Is that the clone? That has to be the answer. Ignoring the creepy factor, she looks exactly like me. Same wavy, brown hair. Same facial features. Same bite mark scar. And she’s got her arms tightly wrapped around Jack as they sleep together in our bed.
I try to wake Jack by shaking him, but he’s a sound sleeper. I shake him again and still nothing. I lower my head to his, doing my best not to touch this strange woman coiled around him, and whisper in his ear, “Jack, wake up.” No response.
“Jack?” I say again. He is still out cold. Instead, the Jane clone slowly lifts her head, sits up, and stares at me. At first, she doesn’t say a word and it freaks me out. My heart is beating out of my chest and I’m at a loss for words.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I stare at her, still speechless.
“Well? What are you doing with my husband?” she asks again.
“Your husband? I don’t think so. You must be mistaken. I’m trying to wake my husband up so he sees that you’re a fake,” I answer. “You’re not his wife. You’re a cheap imitation, an imposter.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m the real deal, honey. Maybe you’re the fake? Didja ever think about that? Besides, they have other plans for you. Didn’t you know?” Half naked, she gets out of bed and walks toward the bedroom door.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She doesn’t say anything. She just turns around and issues a spine-tingling smile, then continues to the door.
At the same time, I can hear those familiar zombie noises – retching and screeching – from the other side. I hold my ears.
“No. No! Don’t open that!”
As her hand reaches out and begins to turn the doorknob, the door crashes open, banging against the wall. A horde of zombies bursts through, pass by the Jane clone, and head straight for me. I’m shaking Jack more violently now to wake him up, but it’s no use. I jump off the bed and try to escape out of the bedroom window, but the wretched zombie creatures surround me before I can spring into action. Trapped on the bed, they’re crawling straight towards me, right over a sleeping Jack. It’s like a million arms are reaching out for me. I back away as best as I can, but the bed is soft, so my feet sink into it. It’s difficult to get and keep my balance. That doesn’t matter much because the wall is at my back and there’s nowhere else to go. I won’t be able to keep my distance from these foul creatures for long. Their snarls, up close and personal, terrify me. Their broken, battered, and bloodied faces and bodies inch closer and closer. My breathing picks up as I look around, trying to find a way out.
As they get closer, one of the zombies at the front of the pack grabs my arm and holds it tight. I use my other arm, make a fist, and hit the zombie in the face so that he’ll let go. Maybe I’ll be able to disorient the monster so he’ll lose his grip on me? No luck. My punch does nothing. And he only pulls harder, twisting my arm further than its normal range. I can hear the popping crunch of bone rubbing against bone. He yanks harder and manages to rip my arm right out of its socket. I’m bleeding and shouting for Jack to come to my aid.
“Jack! Wake up! Please! Jack! Help me!” I cry. No luck. He’s still out cold.
Another zombie grabs ahold of my left leg and begins to tug and twist it. I fall down onto the bed, knock my head against the wall, and another one grabs my remaining arm. They’re tearing me apart like a wishbone. My head is throbbing, but it’s minor in comparison to having my limbs torn from my body. I turn and look at Jack one more time. He’s still sleeping peacefully as the Jane clone is looking down at me, smiling her hateful smile.
I scream, “Jack!” a few more times before my immense amount of blood loss begins to zap my energy. Getting tired, I can’t fight them anymore.
The look on her face is one of satisfaction. Taking comfort that the zombies neutralized me in matter of seconds, she heads back to bed and slips underneath the now-bloody covers with Jack.
I can still see her. She starts kissing Jack, waking him up. I shout for Jack one last time, but he still doesn’t hear or see me. I look away and close my eyes, desperate to purge my eyes and brain of what I’m seeing. I can’t watch this farce anymore.
When I open them again, Jack and the Jane clone are gone. They disappear into thin air and are replaced with another couple.
Now all I see is Lance and some strange blonde woman. They’re speaking with each other. I try to focus my eyes and ears on what they’re doing and saying, but my brain is taking its sweet time to adjust. Everything is hazy, not to mention the massive, pounding headache still punishing me.
At first their body language is cordial and their conversation seems friendly, even intimate at times. Lots of talking and touching. In my stupor, I try to listen, but I can’t hear anything. After a few minutes of focusing, my brain begins to get with the program. I can hear them chatting and soon their interactions turn nasty, their dialogue heated, and arms flailing about.
“Why do you always do things like this?” she asks.
“Like what?” Lance shoots back. “What are you talking about?”
“You pretend to care, and then you show your true colors.”
“Huh?”
“Your agenda. You always have an agenda. You’re always looking out for yourself.”
“Myself? You said you need money. I’m trying to help get you some.”
“Help? What’s in it for you? What are they gonna pay you for my research?
“Don’t worry about that. Just take the money and don’t ask any questions.”
“I know you, Lance. Maybe if you were working with a reputable company, I might have a different opinion, but whichever corrupt organization you’re scheming with, hell no. I don’t want their money!”
“Why? Why does it matter where the money comes from? They’re the ones willing to pay the most. If we can milk them, it’ll be like we won the lottery, only better… no taxes,” he smiles.
“There are consequences to our actions, Lance. Don’t you realize that? Taking money from them is like validating everything they’ve done. Are you still working for them? I’m here in this godforsaken place because you told me they wanted me dead. Was that true, or were you lying to me?”
“It’s true. And I’ve never lied to you.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Don’t talk to me like that. I brought you here to protect you. So you could continue your research in a place where no one was going to ask any questions. I think that proves my agenda is all about saving you and helping your cause, doesn’t it? I saved your life!” Lance grabs her button-down blouse and jerks her towards him. He kisses her hard on the lips and wraps his arms around her, pinning her to him. Their bodies are pressed together as if they’re one. She’s not fighting him, and it actually looks like she’s kissing him back. His hands begin to wander to other parts of her body. That’s when she knees him in the groin. Lance falls backward onto the ground, laughing. For added protection, she pulls a knife out of her pocket with her right arm.
“Who said you could touch me?”
“I love you. Don’t lie to yourself. Admit it. You want me as much as I want you.”
“You haven’t a clue what I want and I’m not fallin’ for it!”
“Falling for what?”
“Your romantic, good guy routine. You’re not my protector.”
“You’re so sexy when you’re angry, you know that, right?”
“Lance, you’re selling my research to bad people.”
“Bad people? And who are we? Hell, you’re experimenting on people.”
“It’s not the same. The subjects I have were already infected.”
“Not all of them.”
“Fine, but we’re still not the same. We’re trying to find a cure that’ll work for everyone, no matter what mutation of the infection they have. What we’re doing is for the greater good to cure people and make them better, stronger. Your employer is just going to make money off of it. Or, keep people sick and paying for a cure that doesn’t work. That’s criminal in my book.”
“What’s so wrong with making money?”
“My research, my rules. The moment you sell it to the highest bidder trying to raise their bottom line means that some people won’t be able to afford the cure. That’s not fair.”
“I hate to tell you this, babe, but if you couldn’t tell already, life isn’t fair.”
“Don’t quote trite colloquialisms to me.”
“You might not want to hear it, but it’s the truth. I didn’t make it like that, it’s just the way this messed up world operates.”
“What happens when people can’t pay for the cure? Huh? Then what?”
He stares at her and says nothing.
“I’ll tell you what happens. They’ll turn into zombies, die, or hurt someone else trying to get the money for the cure. Before you know it, our peaceful way of life is gone forever. And that’s what we’re trying to save. Don’t you get it? We need a universal cure, or else the zombie epidemic will continue to rage out of control and annihilate us all. All of your money and prized possessions won’t mean crap. And all of the people you love will be gone forever. Short term profit for long term damnation.”
“Baby, listen. I understand what you’re saying, but if you need the cash for your research like you said you do, this is the only viable option right now.”
“If you really love me, you’d find another way.”
“It’s because I love you that we need to do it this way.”
She sighs. There’s a moment of silence. “Fine,” she concedes. “Just help my guys load her onto the truck.”
Chapter 3
________________________________________
As my eyes open, there’s only darkness surrounding me. I’m on the floor. It feels cool against my hot and sweaty skin. Picking my head up off of the floor, perspiration is dripping down my face, my neck, and every other part of my body. I can’t seem to banish the vision of zombies tearing my limbs off from my brain. Out of breath and still unable to discern what’s around me, I feel for my arms and legs. Momentarily relieved that they’re all intact and still connected to my body, I upset myself all over again when I realize that my nightmare might not be over.
Still on the floor and lost in the darkness, I look around. Wait. Am I still dreaming? Is this real? What is this place? It doesn’t matter. I have to get out of here. Jack has to know what’s going on. My senses begin to adjust to my unfamiliar surroundings. As my eyesight attempts to focus, I hear growling coming from all around me. There’s also a repugnant smell enveloping me. It’s invading my nostrils. It’s disgusting, but familiar. Crap! Zombies. If I can smell them, they can definitely smell me. That might be what’s prompting them to make noise. They’re hungry. And they want to feed. On me.
“No!” Fear jolts through my body, prompting me to sit up and assess the situation. My eyes continue to wander, still desperately trying to focus and adjust to the darkness. Am I still in a cell? Crap! I am. Looking around, shadowy figures are all along the perimeter of the room, all separated into what looks like individual cages. Suddenly, being in my own cage isn’t the worst place I could be right now. Adrenaline pumping, I jump up and look around my own cage, praying they didn’t stick me with a roommate. “Phew.” I’m alone. That’s good. Now that I’m sure I’m not in imminent danger of being bitten, I try to relax. Conserving my energy for when I really need it might be the best thing I can do right now.
Wiping some of the sweat away, I feel my neck. That damn transmitter bump is still there, but the pain is gone, for now. This thing has got to go, but I don’t know how to get it out. My nervous habit of picking my fingers has now moved to this thing in my neck. I start to pick at the bump with my fingernails, scratching my neck up until it feels red and raw. Oh damn! It hurts. The skin on my neck is much more sensitive than the skin on my fingers. I don’t think I can just dig it out with my nails. Depending upon how deep it’s embedded, it may require more skill and better tools so I don’t end up bleeding to death.
I don’t like being controlled. In my sleepy haze, someone moved me from Lance’s club to wherever I am now. While I wasn’t out cold, I don’t remember what happened. I do remember seeing and hearing something, but the pain from this thing in my neck was so intense that I guess my brain shut down all of my important systems until the pain subsided. I have to do something. Figure out where I am. Make a plan to escape.
“Hello?” I venture as I tiptoe closer to the bars to get a better look at the room where I’m being held against my will. Hoping there’s a comforting human voice somewhere in here to prevent me from going crazy, I ask again, “Hello?”
In response, the zombie screeching gets even louder after they hear my voice. I back away from the bars, unsure about what’s around me. My eyes dart from cage to cage. All I see are zombies, no humans. Some of the cages are empty. That’s strange. Are they doing this to other people, too?
On the plus side, Lance is nowhere to be seen. If he was here, I’m sure he’d take pleasure in taunting me. And I have a feeling I’m not in his bar anymore either, at least I don’t think so, which could be a good thing. On the not-so-bright side, none of that helps me figure out where the heck I am now. This place gives me a creepy science lab vibe. That can’t be good.
“Hello?” I try a bit louder, determined to figure out where I am. The third time’s the charm, right? The zombie chorus acts up again. Suddenly, I hear a click and the lights come on.
Seeing everything bathing in the glow of fluorescent yellow light is surreal. It’s confirmed. I’m definitely in a lab of some sort. That doesn’t bode well. There are two things in every lab: a scientist and something to experiment on. And there’s no question about which I am.
“Hello?” I say again. “I know someone’s there. The lights didn’t turn themselves on.”
No answer.
“Please talk to me. P-Please just tell me where I am, all right? I’m scared.”
I see an attractive young woman with blonde hair walk over. As she walks closer and my eyes adjust to the light, I notice that she’s missing her left arm. “Jane?” she asks.
“Yes. That’s me. And you are?” Even though I ask the question, she seems somewhat familiar, but I can’t remember who she is or where I saw her before.
“Just a researcher looking for the real cure to stop this zombie plague once and for all.”
“Huh? I’m confused. I thought there was already a cure developed. That’s what they gave me.”
“If you’re talking about the cure for one of the original strains of the virus, yes. However, the zombie virus is similar to the influenza virus. They both evolve over time, making the original cure outdated and ineffective. Both cures need to be reformulated after the viruses cycle through multiple mutations to keep their efficacy.”
“What do you mean? It doesn’t work as effectively? It doesn’t cure the zombie virus anymore?”
“No. It doesn’t. It suppresses it. Sometimes. Maybe. The cure only fights the original virus while the mutation is still allowed to run unchecked and corrupt human cells. In actuality, the person is basically tor
n in two. They’re their own Jekyll and Hyde, manifesting a dual personality. The person has their normal human side and then develops a vicious infected side, both fighting for supremacy in one body.”
“Gah. That’s horrible, but… but… I-I don’t understand why I’m here. I’m not a scientist. I can’t help you.”
“True. You’re not a scientist, but that doesn’t mean you can’t help.”
“I’m afraid to ask, but why am I here?”
“Your blood.”
“My blood? You want my blood?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You were infected and you survived,” she says pointing to my zombie bite mark scar. “Your body and blood cells are resilient. We want to take samples, analyze it, test it, and learn from it.”
“How much do you need?”
“Not much. Just a little bit. Think of it as giving blood for a needy cause. Just like you would do during a blood drive after an emergency.”
“A needy cause? That’s all well and good, but I don’t know anything about you or your organization. How am I supposed to trust your word? I’m gonna need more information. And time. I need time to think this over.”
“Fair enough, but there’s really nothing to think about. And I’m not sure what information you want. It comes down to this: either you want to help cure people or you’re fine letting them die. Seems like an easy decision to me.”
“I’m sorry. Like I said before, I don’t know you. How do I verify what you’re talking about?”
“All you need to do is realize that together we have the power to save millions of people from this deadly plague.”
“If you’re telling the truth, that sounds good, but what’s in it for me?”
“Isn’t saving the world from this plague enough?”
“That would be amazing, yes, but I also don’t want to spend the rest of my life locked up in your zombie jail here.”