by Gayle Katz
“Turn this crap off. It’s a fantasy world. It’s not real. Jack is talking to some stranger because I’m here with you. And I don’t care what you say, that’s not me. It’s your stupid clone woman impersonating me.”
“First, she is a clone, I’ll give you that – but she is all you.”
“Whatever.”
“Whatever? However you feel about the situation, you’ve got to appreciate the science, the beauty, and the technology behind it. That clone wasn’t easy to grow.”
“She wasn’t easy to grow? Spare me. You do what you’ve always done, whatever is good for Lance.”
“I’m insulted. You saw how happy he was when he was reunited with you.”
“Stop saying that. He wasn’t reunited with me. He’s not with me. He’s with some cheap copy of me!”
“She’s far from cheap. And I know you don’t want to believe me, but she is you.”
“If you just look at DNA maybe she could be confused as me, but she’s not me, and she’ll never be me. I’m still here with you.”
“Minor detail.”
“You really don’t see anything wrong with what you did and what you’re doing right now, do you?”
He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me and smiles.
“You’re sick, you know that, right? You’re so screwed up if you can’t even see it yourself. The bottom line is that you used him to get to me and now you’re continuing to use him as leverage to manipulate me.”
“You’re so selfish.”
“I’m selfish?!”
“Yeah, everything is about you, isn’t it? After the outbreak on campus, did you even once wonder what happened to me? Did you even care? Huh? Did you?”
During the initial outbreak on campus, he was the king of all jerks. He was rude, mean, and all he wanted from me back then was sex. He didn’t care about me or what happened to me. He was fine with letting me and my friends die. Why would he think I cared about what happened to him? Maybe he’s finally lost it? It takes all of my willpower, but I have to control my emotions and remain silent. Anything I say now might just anger him more. And that’s the last thing I need.
“No. No, you didn’t,” he answers his own question. “And that hurt my feelings, but I got over it. No thanks to you.”
Keeping my mouth shut, I have no idea what to say. He’s already ticked off and my previous behavior isn’t helping.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say to help move the conversation forward.
“And?”
“And unless you want me to pee on the floor, I kinda need a bathroom.”
Lance grabs something from the floor. He brings it closer, slides, and drops it through the bars of the cell. “Here’s your bathroom. Make sure to wash your hands after you’re done,” he chuckles.
I look down and pick it up. It’s a flexible, plastic bucket. “You’re kidding, right? You want me to do my business in here?”
“This isn’t a five star resort. Use it or don’t use it. I don’t care.”
Staring at the bucket for a moment, I look at Lance.
“I’d like to use a real bathroom, please.”
“Sorry. It’s the best I can do right now.”
Looking back at the bucket, I guess I have no choice but to use this lame excuse for a port-a-potty. If the bucket is all I have, then I have to use it.
“Don’t look at me.”
“Don’t worry. That’s the last thing I want to see.”
Chapter 2
________________________________________
A few minutes later, Lance starts talking again. “OK. Wrap it up over there. As much as I’d like to stay here and argue back and forth, it’s time for you to go.”
“It’s time for me to go?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Go where?”
“You’re gonna take a little trip. Someone wants to meet you quite badly and they’re willing to put their money where their mouth is.”
“You’re going to sell me?”
“‘Sell’ is such a harsh word. Barter, maybe? Trade? Don’t worry. It’s for a good cause.”
“A good cau… What are you talking about?”
“You’ll see.”
”No. No. No. Tell me now or I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry, who do you think you are? You don’t have a choice,” Lance chuckles again.
“You’re a monster, pure evil, just like those zombies out there,” I yell at him as I hold onto the cold, metal bars. “Let me out of here!” I’m losing my cool, but throwing a tantrum and flailing myself against the cell bars probably isn’t going to help my situation. I can’t help myself. He knows exactly what to say to send me into a rage.
Lance walks over, runs his fingers over my hands, pats them, and smiles. “You’ll be out cold, baby. The only thing you’ll notice is waking up someplace else. Ahh, but I’m sorry to see you go. You haven’t changed much. You’re still so feisty. I have to admit, that’s one of your best qualities. I love that about you.” I guess he’s referring to the first time we met back at school. He hasn’t changed, either. He was a jerk back then, too.
“Don’t touch me.” I pull my hands away from his creepy fingers and my prison bars. I’m not afraid of him anymore. “You know, now that I think about it, you’re worse than that zombie plague out there. Hell, at least zombies don’t screw with your head and play mind games. You know what they want and they don’t deceive you into thinking otherwise. You? You’re still a lying dirtbag.”
Lance reaches through the bars, grabs me by my hair, and rams me face-first into the metal of the cage, smacking my head into the bars. “If you’re trying to flatter me, don’t bother. That ship has sailed, baby. Whatever could have happened between us has long since fizzled.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Dirty talk. I like it. Be nice, or else,” he threatens as he throws me onto the floor.
“Or else what?”
“Or else I’ll have the Jane clone kill Jack.”
“You wouldn’t,” I cower, fearing for Jack’s life and my own.
“Don’t push me, Jane. I can turn into a real bad guy if you keep it up. Right now? I’m being nice.”
“Please. Don’t hurt Jack. Just let me out and you’ll never see me again,” my voice trembles.
“Sorry. I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. Why not?” I get up from the floor, dust myself off, and face him. “I won’t tell anyone about this. I promise. Jack is free. That’s all I wanted and you’ve done that. Please let me go now.”
“Say you’re sorry for being mean and calling me names.”
“You’ll let me go if I say that I’m sorry?”
“Sure. And get down on your knees. Beg for it. Put on a good show and I’ll let you go.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Your loss.”
“Fine. Fine. Fine,” I say as I get back down on the floor and kneel. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for, exactly?”
“I’m sorry for being mean to you and for calling you names.”
“I don’t believe that you’re truuuuuuuly sorry. You don’t sound sincere. Say it again. This time say it like you mean it.”
I put all my hatred for Lance behind me and, in the most genuine voice I can muster, repeat, “I’m sorry for being mean to you, and I’m very sorry for calling you names. I’m begging you, Lance. Please let me go.”
“That’s pretty good. I almost believe you, but it’s too late, baby. You missed your chance.”
“What?”
Laughing, he responds. “Just kidding. Did you really believe that? What do you think I am? An idiot? If I let you go, the first thing you’ll do is go to the police. I trust you as much as you trust me. And just to be clear, I don’t trust you at all.”
“No. No. No. That’s not true. All I want is to be with Jack. That’s all. Please believe me. I won’t go to the police. Who’s going to
believe me, anyway? This whole thing is so farfetched and outrageous. Please just let me go.”
“I can’t let you go. Jack already has his Jane back in his arms. He doesn’t want or need you now.”
His words are like a knife slicing into my heart. “Please, Lance.”
“Begging won’t help now. Don’t get me wrong, though. I like it, but it doesn’t change my plans for you,” he says as he steps closer and caresses my face.
“Plans? You mean selling me to the highest bidder? Those plans?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about anything, OK? You want to help people, right? Now you’ll get your chance to help lots of them,” he says as he pats me on the head like a dog and begins to walk away.
“Lance!”
“It was nice catching up with you too, Jane,” he says, walking to the door. “Unfortunately, our time together is over now. Goodbye.”
“Lance!” I shout again.
My attempt to make nice with him doesn’t work. I fall to the floor in frustration, pondering my next move. As my thoughts race, I realize I might not have one since I’m trapped in this goddamn cage. I try to think, but between my lack of sleep, the drugs pumped into my system, and the stress on my body, my brain is muddled at best. I contemplate everything that’s happened. Damar was right, after all. I shouldn’t have delivered what Lance wanted without having some insurance to make sure he kept his word. I was blinded by my love for Jack and I didn’t listen to him. Why didn’t I trust Damar? Why? I was an idiot to come to this godforsaken place and put my life in jeopardy, but what else could I do? No one else was going to help Jack. I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to save him.
As I put my head in my hands, I’m disturbed that even though Jack was released from captivity, he’s far from free. The Jane clone is watching him right now. He’s still a hostage, but he doesn’t know it. His life isn’t his own, but he’s probably so happy he was released that he’s not looking deeper into the situation like the good reporter he is. I hope and pray I’m wrong and that something will tip him off. I sigh as a feeling of hopelessness washes over me.
Moments later, I feel a pulsing in my neck, like a pounding headache. It must be the transmitter that Lance inserted under my skin when I started this horror story adventure. I still have no clue about what this device does or what information it actually transmits, only that it’s their insurance policy to make sure I cooperate. Is Lance watching my every move? Or is it someone else? It’s beyond aggravating!
“Ow!” It hurts. I mean, it really hurts. I grab my neck. The pain is getting worse. What’s happening? I cry out in pain, but no one hears me or, if they do, no one responds. I don’t understand. What did Lance mean when he said that I’ll be able to help people? His words were cryptic at best. My eyesight gets blurry. Sweat is pouring off of my forehead. I can’t seem to breathe fast enough to get oxygen into my lungs. I feel like I have cotton balls in my ears, or it’s like I’m underwater. Everything sounds muffled. I can barely move. The throbbing agony is radiating throughout my body. A feeling of nausea knocks me off balance. I can’t handle any more pain. It’s overloading my system. My body begins to fail me. Everything goes dark.
***
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 star
ts 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!”