by Josiah Upton
“Such a snob,” Rich says. “You’re an Ugger, and it’s a live pig. Just eat the damn thing!”
A terse shhh sound comes from across the library where the females sit. It was Alice, who appreciates reading and silence about as much as I do. If she weren’t so shy, I’d ask her more about her story. She said she was by herself for a while before the Collars locked her in containment. How could she survive without any help? She couldn’t have been alone. I had Gibbs to train me for four years, and even still there were some very close calls. I wonder who was in her life before she came here…
She catches me looking at her, and lowers her face behind her book. That’s when I notice Opha staring at me. The ever-Lustful Hybrid cranes her head sideways and caresses her neck, running her fingers along her clavicle, and moves her thumb slowly to pull her jumpsuit collar down, showing the gray, veiny flesh of her uppermost chest. My heart starts to pump.
That’s what you need, my Prisoner croaks. A distraction from your worries, a release from your pain. Genny will still have your heart, but give your body what it needs. SATISFY ME.
My hands grip the hard wood of the library table, and Mortetine numbs my skin. I can resist for now, but if she beckons me past that second door in the Rec Room, I’m not certain that I’ll say no. Tran explained that if two members agree to go in the Lust Lounge, it uses both their rewards. Perhaps someone else could ask her, and take her sights off of me.
“What about the Lust Lounge?” I whisper to the males around me. “Rich, I bet Opha would love to have one of those things that humans have. Date? A date. And one that isn’t in the back of the kitchen when the officers aren’t looking.”
“Nope,” Rich says. “Kitchen back room is always fine for me. That steel table’s the perfect height, and I can snack on some thawed guts while we go at it. Besides, she hasn’t been Lusting with me recently.”
“Me neither,” Walt says. “Which is strange, ‘cause she used to always wanna. Guess we’re old news now. I’ll bet she’s holding out for you.”
“Me?” I ask in a groan. If she’s abstaining from the one thing that seems to drive her, then she’s clearly committed to her mission. I turn to Ezra, grasping at possibilities. “What about you?”
“Once was enough for me,” he states. “I’m not making that mistake again. Besides, she’s not really my type.”
Rich laughs. “And what is your type? Sprinkled with spice?”
“I don’t know,” Ezra says. “Just not her. She’s too obvious. I don’t like that.”
“Yup,” Walt says with a hoarse chuckle. “You’re a snob. Me? I’m full blooded Ugger. If it smells like a she, then she alright for me. I’d even be okay with getting on top of Quinn. I bet it’s been a while, but she’d remember. I’d give Alice the Lust, too.”
“She wouldn’t go for that,” Rich says. “She’d say no. Just a real quiet ‘no’, though.”
“She wouldn’t be so quiet once I got my hands on her,” Walt responds. “She’d open up real good, I’d make sure of that. You could hold her down, Brother!”
They start laughing, slapping their hands and backs, thinking it’s hilarious. All I can think about is the horror on Alice’s face when that naked Hybrid tried to ravage her in the maze. Indignation (something so strange for a Hybrid to feel) rises in me, and quickly gives way to Hybrid Rage. I growl behind closed lips, and rip the book I’m holding right down the spine. My next impulse is to jump across the table and beat Rich to a pulp, but the officers hear the small commotion and grab their remotes in response. Before anyone can ask what happened, I stand up and retreat to a corner of the library.
Genny made me promise to keep my humanity alive in here, but it isn’t easy when you’re surrounded by animals. Dangerous monsters that only act right because of the threat of debilitating electricity jolting their bodies. Even the ones in the so-called Brains Club. Take away the collars, the officers, the guns and the walls separating the sexes, and what would happen? Chaos, murder, rape.
And I’m not excluded from that. I have the constant impulse to kill and destroy whatever agitates my Prisoner. The barbaric things Rich said only mirror thoughts that have run through my mind over and over again, ever since I woke up as this vile creature. I’m no better than they.
I hear footsteps approach from behind, and smell that it’s Alice. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say. Right now all I care about is maintaining space between me and any moving thing that my knuckles might find. Maybe if I don’t say anything more, she’ll just leave.
“I never said thank you,” she confesses, her voice almost too soft to hear, the quivering in it evidence that it isn’t used often. “For what you did in the maze.”
I turn around. The petite Hybrid stands awkwardly, her arms switching back and forth between crossed and at her sides. Without a book in her hands, it seems she doesn’t know what to do with them.
“You’re welcome,” is all I can say. Despite the curiosity that her reserved demeanor gives me, I find it hard to actually talk to her. Of course part of that is due to her feminine pheromones playing with my nose. One-on-one time with an adult female, Hybrid or human, can make it hard to focus on the conversation. So we just stare at each other, my discomfort increasing with each silent second.
After she realizes I have nothing more to offer, she smiles faintly and starts to leave, but adds, “I could have taken him, though.”
I laugh, loud enough to get the attention of the others. “Of course. He was only twice your size.”
“I’m tougher than I sound. I once took down a bear with just my hands,” she says, then pauses to raise an eyebrow. “Well, actually it was a wolf. But there were two of them, and they were big.”
“So you really were out by yourself?” I ask, astonished. “How? Who taught you what to do? How did you learn how to talk, and to read?”
“You do what it takes to survive.” Her smile falters a little. “And that’s enough story time. I’ll get back to reading someone else’s for a while. But… thank you, again. Really.”
“Alright members,” Tran says, looking particularly at Alice and I. “It’s time to wrap up today’s meeting.”
Back at the center of the room, we take our seats in the circle of chairs around the box projecting Tran’s image. Through the bluish hue I see Opha on the other side, eyes flitting back and forth between Alice and I, a sour look on her face. Good. Maybe our innocent conversation produced a jealousy that will make her think twice about inviting me to the Lounge. Maybe I won’t have to battle my Prisoner’s Lust after all.
“As I promised,” Tran continues, “today you will put in your bid for your reward rooms. Starting tomorrow, each of you will have your time while the rest of us conduct our regularly scheduled meeting, so that by the end of the week everyone will have their time. The first to go is Zaul.”
“Hey, why does he get to go first?” Walt complains, giving me an angry eye. “He’s the new guy!”
“Because of the initiative he took in the maze yesterday,” Tran answers. “He risked himself to aid Alice, and suffered quite the nasty fall. Let that be an example, and a new rule for our club: Members look out for each other!”
The new rule flies over Tran’s head in bright, blinking text. Alice looks up at me briefly, smiles, and averts her eyes again. For some reason I wish the glance was longer, that our chairs were closer, and that our brief conversation was still taking place. Then I realize exactly what that reason is, smelling her from across the circle. I ignore it and focus back on Tran.
“Officers will give you pens and paper to make your decision, and don’t forget to put your number at the top. If you decide on Libido Restraint Alleviation Therapy…” Tran clears his throat. “Also known as the ‘Lust Lounge’, please write the other member’s containee number that you wish to join you at the bottom. In the event that they decline your invitation, please put a secondary choice.”
While the officers hand out the pens
and paper, Opha raises her hand. “Dr. Tran? Yeah, um, what is your containee number?”
Tran chuckles nervously. “Very funny, Ophelia. Now, be sure to hand your paper to the officers on the way out. But before you leave, I have a very special presentation to show you, from our very own Assistant Director Julius Schutzhorne.”
Chapter 40
Zaul
The lights in the library dim automatically, and Tran’s image fades out slowly, replaced with images of nature, and the text “Your Future With The APA”. This conjures up memories of things I read about called theaters, where humans sat in a large, dark room and watched a film. I’m not sure if they exist anymore, but one peculiar feature of theaters was the shared consumption of cooked corn from large buckets.
My nose detects blood and flesh, and the officers hand us each a small bowl of chopped pig’s entrails. Schutzhorne appears on the projection, sitting behind a desk in a room similar to Robert Ortega’s office. I may not enjoy seeing him, but at least I have something good to eat while I do.
“April 7th, the year 2020,” Schutzhorne says, that unsettling expression stuck on his face, caught somewhere in between hateful frown and sadistic smile. Even though he’s not actually there, I want to punch him right in the mouth. “It was the day the world as we knew it changed forever. An aggressive virus spread across the nation, killing those infected, and raising them from the dead as mindless, soulless creatures with only one desire, one instinct: to consume The Living.”
Schutzhorne’s office changes to an open field, filled with hoardes of living corpses, slowly gaining ground with each step of their rotting feet. Flames rise in the distance, and the terrorized screams are so real they seem to originate from within the library.
Then the scene changes again. The Reanimates are gone, and a sunrise breaks on the horizon. “But even with this great land’s population on the brink of extermination, even after all our allies had betrayed us, hope shined anew. We fought back, and we eradicated this threat.”
I suddenly feel like I’m back in Mr. Neal’s history class, having to ingest the history that Genny and her father believed was incomplete at best, and an utter lie at worst. With Schutzhorne behind this, I was already going to view the presentation with a doubtful mind, but now my skepticism is beyond heightened. I wonder if any other members know (or even care) about this nationwide conspiracy.
“Things were far from over, though. Our population and resources were depleted. The cities and infrastructure were crumbling, due to warfare and neglect. The government was in shambles, our few remaining leaders at a loss for direction. And we had another unforeseen problem: The Hybrid Problem.”
Now there’s a Hybrid standing next to Schutzhorne, his eyes conscious, but movements jerky and dramatic. He looks left and right, then pulls a bloody organ from his shirt pocket. I can’t smell it, so I don’t if that’s animal or human flesh. Confident no one is looking, the hairless gray man sinks his teeth into it. “Caught in between human and Reanimate physiology, Hybrid Reanimates were too alive to be exterminated, yet too dangerous to live amongst society.”
Schutzhorne points at us, and I’m not sure if he can see us like Tran does, or if this was recorded beforehand.
“You, and the others that came before you, had no place to call home. The nation was frightened and confused by your strength, by your resilience. We simply didn’t know what to do with such a powerful – yet unpredictable – species of humanoid.”
The Hybrid’s crimson-stained clothing morphs into the blue-and-black striped jumpsuit that I’m wearing right now. Steel bars emerge from the ground, and several other Hybrids in jumpsuits appear behind him, locked in a large room similar to the Common. The picture widens, to show the exterior of the Colorado Territorial Containment Facility. “So we locked you up. For over sixty years, you languished in containment, shunned and hated by the world.
“Now, that era is coming to a close. At the Agency of Postmortem Anomalies, we have come to understand how your mind and body work, and realize that you aren’t the monsters we thought you were.” The image changes to a closer angle of Schutzhorne’s face, and every thin hair on his shiny scalp can be counted. “You’re just misunderstood. And you have much to offer our society, and to the world beyond.”
An image of our planet appears, with arrows stretching out from our continent, to other lands far away. “Right now, steps are being taken to resume contact with the nations we have broken from for so long. To learn to forgive their betrayal, and to make this planet of ours whole again. But such an undertaking will require precautions, to ensure the United State of New America’s interests are secured. It will take a show of force that our military alone cannot provide. It will require a new kind of soldier. And that is where you come in.”
Schutzhorne’s image shrinks and moves to the corner, and video of a stern-faced male and female Hybrid appear, wearing helmets and brown uniforms. “Your unique physiology allows for a force that has never been seen throughout the world. Who else can take heavy gunfire and survive? Who else has the strength to eliminate any threat with their bare hands? Who else can strike fear in the hearts of men, simply with their ferocious scream? A being that death could not hold, the mighty Hybrid Reanimate!”
The members of the Brains Club hoot and holler. Walt and Rich flex their muscles. Opha screams, and even Alice is smiling. But I don’t join them. Something about this doesn’t seem right, I can’t trust it. Quinn is reserved as well. Perhaps her heightened intelligence, and the many years as a Hybrid under the APA’s care, have given her a wider perspective on promises made by men in suits.
“And your efforts will be recognized, and rewarded,” Schutzhorne continues. Many images fly into the projection, stacking one on top of another, depicting everything a Hybrid might expect while in the APA’s employ. “In exchange for just seven years of service, you will enjoy a premium diet, comfortable accomodations, invaluable skills, and frequent opportunities to connect with other recruits… on a more personal level.”
An image scrolls quickly across the projection, of a naked male and female Hybrid couple in a Lustful embrace. Unsurprisingly, Opha cheers the loudest for this.
The digital map of the planet reappears, and quickly zooms in on a remote land mass in the middle of an ocean (whose name I had read and forgot about long ago). “Afraid of being a second class citizen when you return? Why not be the ONLY class of citizen? After your seven years of service, you will retire confortably on Hybrid Isle, a tropical utopia built exclusively for the brave males and females who served their human neighbors back on the main land. Imagine it: a human-free zone, where you can forge your own destiny, without the threat of hatred or rejection. We will be one people, separate…” Schutzhorne holds his hands opposite each other, then clasps them together. “But united.”
The dramatic music stops, and the swirling images around Schutzhorne fade to black. Maybe it means this ridiculous spectacle is almost over. “These things won’t become a reality overnight, and there is still much work to be done by the APA – both internally, and with our nation’s leaders in New York. But I wanted to share this exciting news with you first, the Higher Functioning Hybrid Reanimates, spread all across our containment system. You are the leaders of your fellow containees, the ones they look up to. As events unfold over the coming years, my hope is that you will share our vision, and encourage the others to do the same. Together, we can purge the past, and do great things!”
I nearly break my bowl of entrails at the word “purge”, remembering what Caesar always said. Purge the Sludge. Caesar was – and still is – a criminal. A monster hiding in a man’s body. I suspect Schutzhorne is the same, though perhaps more subtle about it. So whatever he’s trying to sell, I’m not buying it. His dark eyes and grimace of a smile slowly dissipate, until the image is completely gone.
Ezra nudges me. “Hey, are you going to fill in your reward room?” I look down at the paper I had completely forgotten about. “What a
re you gonna pick?”
Schutzhorne’s face and words still swirl around in my head. I don’t like being fed lies, and I’m in the mood to break some things in the Rage Room. And I don’t know where Caesar is, I just know this time he won’t be in there. I take the pen and scribble in my number and the words Aggression Management Solutions, then fold it over in my hand.
After turning in all of our picks we exit the library, and Quinn finds her way to me. “I noticed you weren’t very enthusiastic about today’s visual entertainment.”
“I was not,” I say quietly, looking to the officers, wondering if they’ll report any criticism back to the Headquarters. “It seemed too good to be true.”
“It is,” Quinn says. “I’ve been here long enough to know this routine. HQ made similar promises to myself and other Higher Functioning containees many years ago, in exchange for participation in a ‘unique program’ that would pave the way for human and Hybrid diplomacy. It all sounded so good, and I almost agreed, but Director Ortega advised me not to. The others went to the Headquarters, and I never saw or heard from them again. But this,” she says with a sigh. “It wasn’t like this before. This is a bold proposal, even if it’s only complete lies told to locked up Hybrids. But many of us are naïve, and desperate for both comfort and meaning.”
“Using us for military purposes,” I say. “Do you think it’s why we’ve been doing strategy and communication exercises?”
“Absolutely,” Quinn responds. “And why they’ve reopened the reward rooms. It all makes sense now. They’re training us to see if we’re capable, and bribing us to earn our trust, all at the same time.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
We’re coming close to the Lock, where we go our separate ways to the male and female Commons. After a moment of silence, Quinn says quietly, “I knew you were smart, Zaul, but how have you caught on to this? The others were clearly eating it all up.”
