by R J Johnson
“I’ll have her come back to my quarters with the excuse that because I can’t control you, that I decided we needed to get you out of here before making any decision about their offer,” Emeline said.
“Not bad,” he said. “What do we do about those clones?”
“They’re not conscious right?”
“Not so far as I’ve seen.”
“Then we kill them,” she said quietly after a moment. “It’s not right that they’re out there creating copies of you and I without our permission. Plus, we need to find out why they’re creating these things in the first place. Look and see if you can find anything.”
“Roger that,” he said. “And Em…”
“What?”
“Thanks,” he said.
He turned off the comm channel, watching her as she approached the lab’s door.
Emeline clutched her stomach and doubled over, breathing heavily as if she were sobbing.
“Help! Help me! Oh my God, someone please!” she shouted, pounding on the lab door.
Meade aimed the viewer attachment back at the wall facing the lab and saw Dr. Hahn glance up at the door. Her assistant looked at Dr. Hahn in panic.
“Cover the Phoenixes.”
assistant who covered the four clones with the sheets. She waited until the young woman was finished and then unlocked the door, allowing Emeline stumble back inside.
Emeline looked around wild-eyed, spotting Dr. Hahn at the other side of the room.
“Thank God, you have to see this.”
Emeline beckoned the doctor and the rest of her crew into the hallway where she showed them the two unconscious guards.
“Oh my God,” one of the assistants said, raising a hand to her mouth.
“Dr. Hahn,” Emeline said, her eyes filling with tears. He had to give it to her. She knew how to act.
“I’m afraid it’s Jim. He… he and I had a fight about whether we should join up with your outfit. It got heated and he stormed off. I’m afraid when he’s in a mood and is drinking then things like this…” she indicated the two guards on the floor, “…happen.”
Dr. Hahn studied Emeline and then stepped forward, bringing her in for a hug.
“My poor child,” the woman’s voice said, thick with pity. “Let’s get you somewhere safe. I can inform the professor about what’s happened. We can track Mr. Meade from our office.”
The edges of Emeline’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, doctor. I’m so sorry. When he gets like this, he’s impossible to control and I’m afraid of what he might do…”
“Shh…” Dr. Hahn drew Emeline in for another hug. “Don’t worry about it my dear. You’re safe now.”
Dr. Hahn turned to her assistants squinting at them. “Put the project on hold for now. Lock up the lab and inform the professor we’re on our way.”
“But the timetable…” the assistant began, but the woman waved her off.
“Is irrelevant,” Dr. Hahn replied. “I will address that with the professor. Off you go.”
The assistants scattered to take care of their assigned tasks back in the lab while Dr. Hahn turned back to Emeline.
“What do you say we go find Mr. Meade and bring him in for a conversation?”
“Thank you,” Emeline said, trying to appear grateful. “You have no idea what he’s capable of.”
“My dear,” Dr. Hahn chuckled and patted Emeline on the shoulder. “Believe me, we’re prepared for any eventuality here. Even your Mr. Meade.”
The pair began walking down the hallway toward the professor’s office. Meade could only hope that he had a few more tricks left up his sleeve.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Denial
Meade poked his head out of the supply closet and was about to make his escape when he heard the two lab assistants re-enter the lab.
He ducked back into the closet, reactivating his armbar to watch them as they moved to put the four clones away.
“We could go ahead and prepare them for the reboot now anyway,” one of the assistants said, glancing around. “It’d save us all sorts of time whenever they do decide to move forward.”
“You heard her,” the other said shaking her head. “We’re supposed to return the specimens to cold storage. It’s on her if we miss our chance.”
“But we’re so close,” the other one whined.
“Not our problem,” she replied. “Come on, let’s bring these two back first, and then we’ll come back for the rest.”
“You’re going to regret this tomorrow when we have to do everything all over again,” the other warned.
“Stop complaining and start helping,” she said.
The pair of assistants began wheeling two of the clones out of the lab, the first’s complaints still echoing down the hallway.
He peeked out of the utility closet, making sure the hallway was all clear. When he felt certain Tweedledee and Tweedledumb were gone, he began searching the doctor’s lab.
He started with the clone of himself that was still hooked up to the computer the doctor had been working on. He got a closer look at his slumbering doppelganger and examining his face. Whatever process that created the clones was spot on – even down to the persistent stubble.
“Good looking gent right there,” he muttered. “But, I’m afraid there’s only enough room for one Meade in the world.”
He glanced at the various tubes that were still hooked into the clone and providing what he assumed were the nutrients the clone needed to live and yanked them out. The clone jerked in front of him and breathed out a final time.
Meade swallowed. He never understood the feeling of “someone walking across his grave” but watching his clone perish was about as close as he ever wanted to come.
Shaking off the feeling of doom and gloom, he grabbed the chart lying across the stomach of his now dying clone. He grabbed it, hoping to get a better idea of what the professor and his wife were doing with clones of him and Emeline.
At the top of the sheet was the label: Phoenix Project
“Great,” he mumbled, “Another mystery.”
He moved around the table where the doctor’s computer was still running.
He typed on his armbar bringing up the hacking program he used earlier to copy the professor’s armbar. The virus wormed its way in the doctor’s computer copying the drive’s contents and materials onto his system where he could digest it later.
“Thanks Doc,” he said as his armbar finished vacuuming up the computer’s data.
He was startled when he heard the two lab assistants returning to the laboratory. After the excitement of gaining access to the doctor’s files, he neglected to do the very thing Emeline was trying to help him do – escape.
There was no time for him to dash back to the utility closet. He ducked behind the doctor’s desk, hoping they wouldn’t need to check behind there while wrapping for the night.
“And another thing Dr. Hahn doesn’t understand…” the junior assistant was saying as the door opened. “They… oh my God.”
The pair rushed over to the Meade clone and began checking its vital signs. “Is the specimen still viable?”
“Standby,” her companion said. But his voice didn’t seem to offer much hope.
“Oh goddammit, if this unit expired because we got distracted by some runabout,” the junior assistant said, sounding furious. “I swear, I’m going to kill someone.”
“Check the other one,” the woman said to her companion as she tried to revive Meade’s clone. “Make sure this is the only one.”
The assistant dashed over to the other clone, sighing in relief. “He’s fine.”
She knelt and examined the tubes feeding in and out of Meade’s clone’s body. “The tubes were ripped out.”
They glanced at each other and began looking around the room.
“Someone else is in here,” the woman whispered. She sounded terrified.
Meade winced. They were onto him.
He d
ashed out from behind the desk and ran for the door, the two lab assistants shouting at him to stop. But he wasn’t stopping for anyone or anything now. His only priority was to get to Emeline and get them the hell out of this shop of horrors before they were killed.
Or worse, replaced.
Shuddering, Meade put everything he had left into running for Emeline.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Anger
He was too late.
Meade skidded around the corner to see Emeline already engaged in a fight with several Shangri-La guards. Apparently, her story hadn’t held up with Dr. Hahn.
Emeline kicked at the first security guard rushing at her in the jaw. She pulled the second man’s hand and used his momentum to dive underneath his legs and flip him upside down.
She slid, crashing against the wall. She got up, seeing Meade at the end of the hallway.
“Nice of you to join the fight,” she called out to him.
More guards dashed around the corner and spotted the two of them. They glanced at each other panicked and turned to run.
“Stop!” the guard shouted at them.
Meade didn’t bother to answer and withdrew his grandfather’s pistol, firing back at the Shangri-La guards. He saw one stumble and felt a grim burst of satisfaction.
“I know you all have been on me lately about my lack of planning,” he said, rounding a corner hot on Emeline’s heels. “But since our cover is clearly blown, I hope you’ve taken the opportunity to find us a way out of here.”
“The cargo bay,” she called back over her shoulder.
They dashed through the corridors, dodging gunfire from the Shangri-La guards. They rounded a corner and he slipped, crashing into one side of the hallway, slamming his head against the wall. Emeline looked back, a pained expression on her face.
“Get up!”
He stumbled to his feet, trying to shake off the cobwebs, but it was too late. One of the Shangri-La guards was already tackling him to the ground. He decided to move with the guard’s momentum, hoping to throw the man off. The move worked and the man slammed into the wall opposite them and fell to the ground with a loud ‘OOF.’
Meade didn’t even have a moment to appreciate his clever move as the second guard came rushing at him, throwing an illuminated rope around him and his body.
The rope sparked and sent 50,000 volts through Meade’s body. He fell to the ground, unable to do anything but grit his teeth in pain.
The last thing he saw before passing out was Emeline being rushed by four Shangri-La guards. But before he could help, the world faded out around him and his vision went dark.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bargaining
The steady hum of fluorescent lights was the first thing Meade noticed when he finally regained consciousness. He was alone, strapped to a table much like the one he had found himself on when he first arrived at Shangri-La.
Testing the straps and using every ounce of muscle he had, he tried to free himself from his restraints. However, he found it impossible and unable to even budge.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
Meade craned his neck hoping to see Emeline, but the only thing in the room was a bunch of random equipment and his reflection on the mirror opposite him.
Suddenly he could hear screaming from down the hall and he tried to escape.
“Em!” he roared hoping she could hear him. “Don’t you hurt her you bastards!”
His voice echoed through the hallway and he hoped they could hear the pure unbridled rage that had woken within him. He would level this entire colony to the ground if anything happened to her.
Meade could feel the straps cut into his skin as he struggled to get free. But it was no use, he didn’t have enough leverage to get loose and was stuck where he was for now.
He closed his eyes, and began to breathe in a rhythmic fashion, the way Emeline had taught him. It came in handy when he found himself getting frustrated like this.
Rule 18: Think your way out of bad situations.
While breathing in and out, he focused on his goal (escape) and how he might achieve it (great question).
The first thing on his list: Take an inventory of the resources he had available.
Meade opened his eyes and looked down. As expected, the professor had taken his armbar. Without the familiar weight of the gauntlet secured around his forearm, he felt naked, which as the rest of his examination revealed, he was. The professor’s security team had stripped him down to his underwear for whatever experiment they had in store.
There was only one way out. He only hoped it wasn’t as painful as it was the last time he tried this.
Meade repositioned himself so that his wrist was positioned up against the frame of the table, He leaned into it, putting an enormous amount of pressure the upper joint. Biting his lip, he applied as much force as possible until he heard the POP of his thumb coming out of its joint.
“Holy hell,” he grunted through gritted teeth. His right arm was now one long throbbing piece of pain, but on the bright side, he had enough room to squeeze his hand out of the hospital restraints they had strapped him in with.
Meade worked quickly knowing he didn’t have much time before his hand began swelling up. Tugging his hand free, he grit his teeth once again and slammed it against the metal frame of the table, putting the joint back in place.
“Good God!” he breathed out. He reached over and began loosening his straps.
Once free, he leapt off the table and began looking for his clothing and equipment, but there was nothing there.
A light turned on behind the mirror illuminating Professor Benson, his wife, and a contingent of Shangri-La guards.
“Mr. Meade,” Professor Benson’s face was drawn and tired. “It was upsetting to hear about the damage you did to some of our equipment tonight.”
“You call those sideshow clones of me and Emeline equipment, huh?” Meade snorted. “The balls on you.”
“You useless sack of flesh,” Dr. Hahn hissed from behind the glass. “Each and every one of our creations are meant for greatness and you robbed him of his potential.”
For the first time, Meade saw the viper that existed under the woman’s thin, pleasant demeanor. The professor’s wife played nice, but there was an evil within her that was far closer to the surface than she let on.
“Seems to me I threw a wrench into whatever plans you had for us,” he replied staring defiantly at them behind the glass. “So, if you’re about to kill me, you may as well get it over with.”
The professor shook his head. “I’m not going to kill you my boy. However, I’m afraid the time for me to ask nicely has passed.”
He threw his head back laughing out loud at the pompous man behind the glass. “Professor, I don’t know what you know about runabouts, but we don’t much care for people telling us what to do.”
The professor stared at him for a moment.
“A demonstration then,” the professor said in a low voice.
He walked over to the other side of the laboratory and pressed a button.
The straps to his bed released and he found himself free from his bonds. Meade rubbed his wrists and took a tentative step off the bed. He didn’t like where this was going.
That’s when he noticed a green fog emanating from the vents in the room. He back away from the gas and covered his mouth.
“Oh, I’m afraid that won’t do you any good Mr. Meade,” Dr. Hahn said, a malicious smile on her face. “You’re already infected.”
“Infected?” Meade asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling. “With what?”
Dr. Hahn tapped a few commands on the tablet in her hands. She looked over at Kelso Tate, who was hanging out in the corner, watching everything.
“Kelso, my dear,” Dr. Hahn said, her voice syrupy sweet. “I need your help with something.”
He looked around the room, eyeing the professor and the rest of the Shangri-La guards and stepped forward.
Tate moved to stand in front of the doctor, looking down on her with a sneer.
“Place your thumbprint here,” the doctor said, holding out her tablet.
Tate looked around suspiciously, and then back to the professor who was watching from the back of the room.
“It’s okay Kelso,” the professor said cheerfully. “We’re assisting Mr. Meade with a demonstration.”
Tate stepped forward and placed his thumb on the scanner.
Dr. Hahn looked up at him.
“If you wouldn’t mind bringing Mr. Meade in here with us.”
Tate looked at the tablet. “But…”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “I had to upgrade security status in the system so you could get inside the interrogation chamber.”
Tate drew himself up, almost looking proud of himself at Dr. Hahn’s words.
“It must torture you that I’m so useful to your husband.”
Dr. Hahn returned his smirk with one of her own. Meade watched the exchange from the other side of the glass uncertain what was going on.
The door to his cell hissed open and Tate entered. He drew back, ready to fight the albino if necessary.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Tate said, grimacing. The albino lunged for Meade’s arm and once he touched it, shrieked in pain.
Meade felt it too. It was like an electric shock that ran down his arm and onto Tate’s fingers.
Tate screamed out in pain and then terror as he clutched at his hand in horror.
The professor approached the glass watching Tate thrash around as bits and pieces of his body began to fall away and turn to dust before their eyes.
“Mr. Meade, do you know why Shangri-La flourished while every other independent colony outside of the Coalition has failed?” the professor asked.
Meade shook his head, stumbling back as he watched Tate dissolve in front of him in horror. Mercifully, Tate lost all functioning consciousness as his body was eaten away into a greenish dust.