Anne gently squeezed Lisa’s hand. “I’m afraid so, dear. He was attacked by one of the untreated infected. Mr. Sanders suffered physical trauma beyond what the RY treatment could do to save him.”
Tears welled in Lisa’s eyes and slid down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her free hand, seeing the bite mark on her forearm. “It bit me too.”
“Yes it did. The entry point of the alien virus won’t ever heal. Fortunately, the medics gave you the treatment in time. Don’t worry, there are plenty of beauty aids available to help hide imperfections on the Non-Dead.”
Lisa frowned. “Non-Dead? I thought you said the medics got to me in time?”
“In time to keep you from a physical death. They were able to give you the Resurrection Y medicine. Had they not arrived in time, and you had died from the infection, Resurrection Z would have been used. That is, if you were registered with the state as a willing donor. You are a Sub class Y Non-Dead now,” Anne said.
“But I didn’t die and turn into a Sub Z. I’m still me, not some stupid lobotomized human. How can I be stripped of my status as a Living citizen of the United States? So what if I’m infected with an alien virus? Other people have AIDS. It’s a virus, it kills, but their citizenship isn’t affected.” Lisa’s voice had become stronger.
“It’s for national security, primarily. At least, that’s what the laws are based on. You must appreciate that your physiology excludes you from being equal to the Living. You can no longer donate blood or organs. You’re not able to give birth. Your body has changed in more ways than you can see on the outside. Politicians have set a standard of laws to separate the Living from the Non-Dead. The Living have rights that need to be protected too, you know.”
Lisa slapped the top of her bed. “But I didn’t choose to become a Sub Y like some others. I didn’t have a choice.”
“That was a onetime special act of congress for people suffering paralysis. America needed to quickly build the work force. But there are others such as you who received treatment after becoming infected with the virus. The laws apply to all treated with the RY drug the same. I’m sorry.”
“But why should laws apply differently to Sub Ys? Sub Zs are so far gone that most are nothing more than simple-minded work machines. There is nothing the Living can do that the Y class can’t. The only difference between a Living and a RY is the presence of the virus.” Lisa realized she just had used one of Bob’s arguments he had used against her. She bit her lower lip.
“Hell, I’ll be back at my job tomorrow—behind my desk—like I never left. Don’t tell me I’m a member of the Non-Dead.” Lisa snatched her hand back.
Anne looked to the floor. “I’m sorry dear. You will no longer be able to continue your job as a state health inspector. The National Union of the Living won’t allow it.”
“What year is this? What am I? Nothing but a fucking slave? This country went to war over slavery. It was wrong back then. It’s wrong now.”
“The stark reality of your situation is that you carry the virus. You are now a member of the Non-Dead. Lisa, try to overcome your fear. The country still needs you. You can still contribute to society and in turn lead a rewarding life.”
Lisa put her fingers to her lips. “I’ve lost Bob. I’m losing my job. I’m not even considered equal to other humans now.” She raised her eyes to meet Anne’s. “Put down the pompoms, and go fuck yourself.”
Anne shook her head. “I understand how you feel. You are not alone. Time will heal you. You’ll learn to adjust and find your way back into society. It won’t take you long. You’re just going through the initial shock. Trust me. I’ve seen others as upset as you. Today, they live content, fulfilled lives.”
Lisa glanced down at her pale feet. The ruby red polish made her toes look even deader.
Chapter 4
“It’s about time you got here. I’m dying to see what my face looks like. There’s not one mirror in this whole damn room, and I was told that you would be bringing one with you,” Lisa said. She still wore the flimsy hospital gown, feeling the air on her bare bottom as she sat on the bed to greet the visitor.
A large woman shaped like a bowling pin, dressed in a mustard-yellow pantsuit, and wearing shoes where her toes stuck past the footbed, closed the door and entered the room.
“Good afternoon. My name is LaQuisha Johnson. I’m here as a representative of Avan Products, Incorporated. The hospital allows us, with your permission of course, to introduce you to our line of beauty products which will help your appearance as you reenter the workforce and start your new life. As an appreciation for your time, I will also give you a free week’s supply of your first month’s purchase.”
Not the first time you’ve made this pitch, I bet, Lisa thought, and rolled her eyes.
“Miss Lisa, here is a free catalogue from Avan.” LaQuisha removed a thin magazine-sized catalogue from a tall brown tote bag. “Our catalogue includes wigs, prosthetics, and makeup specifically designed for the Non-Dead. Avan provides you with all the necessary image enhancement products to give you the self-confidence to intermingle with the Living without feeling out of place.”
Lisa took the catalogue and flipped through the pages. “Ooo, look, I can get a new arm, or maybe a new leg. Hey, this arm even has a hand with a bionic grip. That could come in handy if I wanted to strangle annoying people who wanted to take advantage me because of my misfortune.”
LaQuisha frowned, forcing her brows almost halfway down her eyes. “Our prosthetics are made from a combination of modern latex and polymers molded around a carbon-graphite skeletal structure. In a process that does not create any greenhouse gases to further contribute to climate change—”
“Okay LaQuisha, I get it. You’re here to help me with the latest-greatest cosmetic achievements of man. Cut the sales crap, and give me a mirror. I bet I look a sight.”
LaQuisha stopped cold as if losing place in her thoughts and pulled a hand mirror from her bag. She passed the mirror to Lisa.
Lisa’s eyes went wide when she saw her reflection for the first time since crossing over to the Non-Dead. It was worse than she had imagined. Even worse than the time she spent four hours throwing up in the toilet after a fun night of drinking.
She repositioned herself on the bed to see herself in better light, brushed her hair aside, and gently pushed her cheeks.
LaQuisha started, “The virus your body contains has affected the melanocytes in your skin, which are responsible for melanin production, which determines skin color. This has led to your condition which is similar to albinism.”
“I know. I read the pamphlet, ‘Now that you are a member of the Non-Dead.’ You don’t need to give me a science lesson.” Lisa pointed to a stack of booklets on the nightstand.
LaQuisha picked back up, “Avan has a line of ATP cream with fifty-three realistic skin tone shades we call Skintastic for you to choose from.”
“I don’t have to use the cream. I’m well-preserved enough that I don’t have to cover my whole body with the cellular food like most Sub Z Non-Deads. I’m Sub Y. My heart still beats, even though it’s only about twenty times a minute. I can get my cellular nutrition through, what was that name again . . .” Lisa thought for a moment, “Adenosine triphosphate, from the patch. My blood still flows fast enough to carry the nutrients throughout my body.”
“Well, Miss Lisa, we have the body makeup available without the ATP, also in the same fifty-three Skintastic shades. I’m sure you’ll want to return to your natural skin tone, unless you plan on going Full-Zombie.”
Despite being politically conservative, Lisa had always considered the Full-Zombie lifestyle to be a mockery of the Sub Zs. A small group of Sub Ys had started the movement by no longer concealing their hideous wounds or coloring their pale lifeless skin, to show unity with their abused brethren.
The Full-Zombie movement hadn’t gained any real momentum until members of the Living joined in. They dressed themselves to look Non-Dead, covering their exp
osed flesh with white makeup, and drawing dark circles around their eyes. Some even applied fake scars and engineered ghastly, imitation wounds and wore this façade in daily life. It was a totally in your face public statement supporting equal rights for the Non-Dead.
“No, no Full-Zombie for me. I’ve spent the last few years keeping fit and presenting myself as best I can. I like to say that if I die the prettiest corpse, I win. I’m not about to march around looking like a decaying albino from a George Romero movie.”
“Then as a representative of Avan, it is my professional opinion that you should choose from our ATP Skintastic collection. Your skin can return to the warm tone that says, ‘Hey world, I’m alive.’ The patch will only serve to call attention to your Non-Dead status.”
Lisa relaxed her body and smiled. “You know, LaQuisha, you’re right. I’m sorry if I’ve been rude. I’ve been through a lot. What would you like to show me?”
LaQuisha removed a floral-patterned plastic box from her bag, placed it on the bed, and opened it. Vials of makeup graduated in shade from darker to lighter, each with an exotic name for the color, filled the compartments in the box.
“For a Caucasian of European descent such as yourself, I recommend you choose from numbers sixteen through thirty-two.” LaQuisha slowly trailed her index finger along the colors.
Lisa selected two of the vials and held them up one at a time to her face as she studied the mirror, and then removed two more from the box and did the same. “I think it’s between Soft Honey and Natural Tan.”
She removed the caps from each vial and used her finger to apply the two creams to opposite cheeks. The mirror went up to either side of her face, moving back and forth as she decided. “I have all the sex appeal of a mannequin.”
LaQuisha giggled. “Oh no, Miss Lisa, not with a body like yours. The cream will serve as a color foundation. You’ll still have to apply blush, eyeliner, and lipstick to look more like your natural self. We have a line of products that are compatible with our Skintastic ATP cream lineup. You know, Miss Lisa, your eyes are a beautiful shade of green. As an RY recipient you’ve retained your natural eye color. If you had become a Sub Z, you’d have to wear colored contacts.”
“Like I would even care what my eye color was if I was a Sub Z.”
“You’d be surprised how much owners, I mean employers, spend to make their Sub Zs more presentable.”
“I think I’m going with Natural Tan.” Lisa continued the comparison. “My, Avan tries every way possible to make a buck.” She gave the mirror one last glance. “You did say that my first week is free if I buy a month’s supply, right?”
“That’s correct, Miss Lisa.”
“I bet this stuff isn’t cheap.”
“Avan prides itself on being competitive in the market while offering superior quality. The ingredients are all natural. The pigments are extracts from organically grown fruits and vegetables. All of our Skintastic products have a soothing effect on the skin, with refreshing properties, and leave the skin feeling soft and smooth. It also contains rosehips, a powerful antioxidant against free radicals. That will help in the prevention of wrinkles, aging of the skin, and sun damage.”
“Wow, now I’m more afraid of how much this stuff costs.”
Chapter 5
The room’s warm lighting paired with a mystic hue of green coloring the walls. Barely audible, the gentle song of a lazy rainforest drifted in the air from concealed speakers. Dark mahogany bookshelves lined one of the four walls, filled with massive volumes of hardbound books erect in perfect attention.
Lyn Atkins, staff psychologist from the Department of State Health Services, sat at one end of an ash rectangular table. She nestled in her Windsor back chair and scribbled notes on a yellow pad. Two personnel folders lay within easy reach.
Dotting her period with enough force for the other two in the room to hear, she pulled her glasses to the end of her nose and eyed Lisa Goudard sitting to the right, and then Byron Poundstone sitting to the left. The laser etched Z Class ID number on Byron’s forehead a modern improvement over tattoos used in Hitler’s concentration camps.
Lisa shook in her chair, holding back fiery rage. The monster who had killed her fiancé and forced her into the class of Non-Dead sat across the table. Dr. Atkins had briefed her in a previous session what emotions to expect and how to control them. Now, face to face with him in the same room, controlling her feelings was more difficult than she had anticipated. Byron appeared much younger than the zombie who ruined her life.
The sub Z class Non-Dead held the blank countenance of his kind on his face. The madness induced by the virus no longer controlled him. His daily ATP application didn’t contain any of the costly skin color pigmentation, leaving his skin sickly pale, and dark circles surrounding his eyes. The irises, no longer having color, were pale gray, reflecting the light emanating from his soul.
Byron looked nothing like the creature that had attacked her though, seemingly now as harmful as a five-year-old chasing after butterflies.
Lisa let out a sigh and then breathed in deeply. A wave of nausea surged from her stomach to her head.
Lyn watched the two instead of writing more notes. No doubt the session had already begun, and observing Lisa’s reaction was all part of the therapy. Lisa’s fuse had been lit the moment she saw Bob’s killer, there was no hiding that in her body language. Therapy was just a game. Lyn would be the judge. Lisa didn’t know if she wanted to win, she only wanted her life back to normal. She reached for a tissue in her purse and gently wiped her nose before the clear liquid ran down her lip.
“Lisa,” Lyn began, “you know why you’re here. Let me be upfront with you. I can’t roll back time, and I can’t perform miracles.”
Lisa turned her gaze to Lyn, her expression devoid of hope.
“What I can do, is what I have done for many others over the last several years. I will give you tools you can use to integrate back into society—to lead a fulfilling life.”
Lyn removed her glasses and laid them on the table. “Across from you is the man who has brought you all the heartache that you have gone through over the last week. He is no longer a memory—a ghost of the past—a boogeyman to fear. He’s real, sitting in front of you. But what he is today is not what he was when he attacked you.
“Yes, he is responsible, but there were circumstances beyond his control that led him to do what he did. We’re not here to discuss Byron’s condition. We’re here for you to face Byron and for you to tell him how you feel.”
The door to the room squeaked open. An attractive man in his middle thirties entered, dressed in a fine tailored black suit. “Sorry I’m late. The receptionist said it would be all right to come in. Forgive me for interrupting.”
Lyn smiled and rose from her chair, greeting the man, with a gentle handshake. “Mr. Poundstone, I’m so glad you could make it. Please have a seat at the end of the table. We’ve just started. I wanted you here so Byron might feel more comfortable.”
Lisa found herself staring at the man. She had seen him somewhere before.
“Lisa Goudard, this is Representative Rick Poundstone. Rick is Byron’s older brother and is here for his support. He has also told me he would like to express his condolences to you.”
Rick turned toward Lisa and hesitated as if lost for words. “Miss Goudard, I don’t know how to begin to tell you how much I regret what has happened to you and your loved one.” He went to say more, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. The silence that followed iced the room.
Lisa overtly swallowed and nodded her head, choking back the tears.
“Let’s continue.” Lyn stepped back to the chair and sat. “Lisa, it is time for you to express your feelings to Byron. Tell him everything you need to about what he did. Tell him exactly how you feel. Don’t hold anything back. If Byron has any hope of forgiveness it will only come if you open up and let it all out.”
Lisa slammed her open palms to the table.
Byron jumped in his chair and darted his head her way.
“Forgiveness? This man destroys my life and you want me to forgive him? Has the world gone fucking mad?” Lisa jumped to her feet and knocked the chair backward. “I’m buying sodas. Bob’s changing a tire. This maniac jumps out the darkness and attacks him. Hell, attack is too kind a word. This animal eats him!” She pointed her finger and shook it. “He tore the flesh off bone of a living person—with his bare teeth. He ate Bob alive!
“All the while Bob pleaded and cried and yelled for mercy. But there was none. Second after second ticked by as he chewed chunks of meat off the man I loved. I could hear this monster swallowing and smacking his lips! He ate so much of Bob he couldn’t even come back to exist as I am, a fucking Sub Y.” Lisa lowered her head. “At least we would have had each other . . . .”
Shaking off her remorse, she slammed her palms to the table again. Everyone in the room jumped.
“No. Bob’s gone. I’m alone. You took my life from me. And what’s left of it, I really don’t know what the fuck to expect. Everything has changed. Everything is different. I feel like I’m a foreigner in my own country.”
Lisa paused and leaned on the table.
The gentle voice of a regretful child spoke, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Byron reached across the table and gently touched Lisa’s hand. “Don’t be mad at me. I don’t even remember.”
Lisa snatched her hand away and collapsed in her chair, wailing uncontrollably at the top of her lungs.
Rick rose and reached out a hand toward her. He pulled it back as if sensing she would not welcome his comfort.
Lyn went to Rick’s side and whispered in his ear. “Don’t worry. This is a good sign. She’s letting go. Why don’t you take Byron outside? His custodian is waiting and will take him back to the Institution.”
“What about Miss Goudard?”
Resurrection X Page 3