STASIS: Part 3: Restart

by E. W. Osborne

  Christopher recoiled when he noticed how large and black Jamie’s eyes were. The dark pupils in the center nearly eclipsing the surrounding steely blue. He would’ve put more distance between them if he could’ve, but the chair was in the way.

  The sound of the nurse collecting the instruments pulled his gaze away for a moment. “What truth?”

  Jamie smiled and clapped his hands together once as he stood. “I can only tell you after.”

  The nurse wheeled the tray over, the narrow metal wheels clicking with each rotation. The room suddenly felt stifling, constricting. The same muscles that had urged him to fight were now begging for him to flee.

  “I can’t. You know Dad never wanted us to get them implanted. Especially now with…” Christopher couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tray as the nurse wheeled it behind him. He tried to push up to to his feet when Jamie’s hands clapped down hard on his shoulders.

  “Dad has changed his mind.”

  “Dad has—”

  Jamie waved away the comment, returning his hand to Christopher’s shoulder. “It’s either you get the Seed, or…” He glanced over his shoulder to the two brutes at the door. “I’m afraid Kristine might receive a difficult phone call.”

  He took a deep breath, staring into the eyes of his brother whom he now realized, he never really knew. All those clues he ignored for the sake of money, for security. From the very beginning, he’d felt something was off. But even if he’d allowed himself to entertain those fears, he wouldn’t have imagined Jamie capable of something like this.

  “No. No fucking way am I letting you put something in my head.”

  Jamie sighed with disappointment. “You don’t seem to understand. You go to Kristine, and I’ll blow up your whole world. Your fingerprints are on every single project in this building. The testing, the observations. Didn’t you wonder why I kept moving you around?”

  Christopher swallowed, his mouth filling with sickening saliva.

  “You were my insurance plan. My get out of jail card. My—”

  “I get it,” he gagged, a fraction of an inch away from begging him to stop.

  His brother seemed to sense his unease. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt.”

  “You?”

  Jamie nodded. “It… tickles a little, like just before a sneeze.”

  I’ll get it removed or disabled it the second I can, Christopher reassured himself. I just have to get out of here. I have to get back to Kristine.

  The nurse leaned over his shoulder and spoke in a soft voice. “Are you ready?”

  Christopher nodded. While he’d never had the procedure done, he knew what came next. Both legs bounced with nerves, though not from the fear of pain. It was as though he was willingly accepting a poison pill. Without the Seed, he could only be a victim. Now, he could be a perpetrator. He could be the one mindlessly sawing at the neck of an old man with a broken metal tray. He could be the one leaping off a cliff, dragging his family along for the ride. That’s what made him tremble with fear.

  With a gentle yet firm hand, the nurse pushed his head forward until his chin touched his chest. She then parted the hair on the nape of his neck, just at the base of his skull. The ease of insertion helped make the Seed so popular. It was the first brain machine interface that didn’t require invasive surgery, but knowledge of that didn’t help calm his nerves any.

  “Deep breath in and hold,” the nurse instructed.

  Christopher followed her command. He looked up through his eyebrows and met Jamie’s approving gaze. Cold metal touched his skin, such a fine point of sensation, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it in any other circumstance.

  “And out through the mouth,” she whispered.

  As he exhaled, he felt the tiniest pinch on his skin.

  “All done!”

  Christopher shivered, an odd, guttural sound escaping his throat. The nurse gave him a little pat on the back and laughed. “Oh, it’s not that bad.”

  It wasn’t the pain that made him want to throw up. It was the new sensation, already tingling up the nape of his neck into the depths of his skull. Like an insect crawling just under his skin, the Seed extended and shifted from the base of his brain. He could physically feel the tendrils, his father’s most prized proprietary creation, unfurling and burrowing.

  His fingernails dug into the arms of the chair as he open-mouth gaped in horror. And just as quickly as it started, the sensation ended. Drenched in sweat, heart pounding against his chest, he looked to his brother. Jamie beamed down at him like a proud father.

  “Good, good. Now we can finally move past all this.” The way he said it made it seem like this conflict between them had stretched on for weeks, rather than an hour. With their eyes still locked, Jamie commanded the others in the room to leave. “You’re lucky. You got a state-of-the-art version, the VIP of Seeds, if you will.”

  Christopher tentatively touched the nape of his neck as they slipped from the room. He imagined he could almost feel the tiny implant just under the surface, but he knew that wasn’t possible. It was already burrowing deep inside his skull. Another wave of shudders wracked his body. His horror was so intense, he didn’t realize his brother was making a call until he’d put the cuff on speaker.

  “He’s here,” he said, his face cracked in a wide, Cheshire grin.

  “It’s done?”

  Christopher straightened when he heard the voice. It was familiar yet unplaceable, the accent vaguely English. Jamie seemed to enjoy watching his reaction.

  “It’s done.”

  “Good. May I speak to him?”

  Jamie nodded toward the cuff, urging him to reply.

  “H-hello?”

  “Christopher. It’s good to hear your voice, my son.” The words may have been warm, but the tone was business as usual. He continued speaking to Jamie, but the words faded away.

  His ears began to ring. A fresh bloom of sweat burst through his skin. The room tilted and although he’d never done so before, Christopher was sure he was about to faint. “Is that…”

  Jamie cut the call short. “Father, I’m going to have to call you back.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Poughkeepsie, NY

  At first, Kristine couldn’t stand to think about Christopher. The visual of him with Jamie, standing over and even carrying those bodies would forever be burned into her mind. In a twisted way, she was grateful for the distraction all the chaos provided. Getting away from the facility and back to Neil’s house, with a fugitive, didn’t leave her with much time to sit and dwell.

  The drive into the forest had been simple. The return was less so. The tension in the car had been almost unbearable, especially not knowing what they were driving back into. The communication systems were overloaded, too many panicked people calling for help or checking up on their loved ones.

  So in another stroke of dark luck, they were all relieved to discover Neil’s parents were delayed with his grandmother over the border in Canada. As they rolled into Neil and Maggie’s neighborhood, it was obvious the violence hadn’t touched this area. For whatever reason, their little corner of the world was safe.

  Once inside the house with the doors locked, they were able to decompress. Maggie called home again, letting her parents know she was safe and on her way. The others, Ian, Wills, and Rachel looked like numb statues in the living room. They were unfazed by the new arrival. The new arrival was definitely fazed. After quick introductions and a brief rundown of what had happened, they gathered in the living room. The news played in the background, sound down, the unbelievable images less horrifying yet commonplace.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Rachel asked with almost condescending sweetness.

  “She doesn’t have a name,” Neil said, sitting beside her. He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders despite the sweltering heat. She gave him a weak smile and pulled it tight.

  “What would you like us to call you?” she asked, dipping her head low.

&nbs
p; Maggie snorted. “Call her Mallory.”

  The young girl, frail and terrified, wanted nothing more than to please the people around her. “That’s fine. It’s pretty. You can call me Mallory.”

  “Why Mallory?” Neil asked, squinting at Maggie.

  She replied without pulling her eyes from the news feed. “It means bad luck.”

  Kristine desperately wanted to get this girl alone to interview, but there were pressing matters she had to take care of first. A voice inside of her told her she needed to get home, if her home was still there… One way or another, she had to be in their unit when Christopher came home. Still, as the de-facto adult in the situation, it still felt weird to leave this group of kids on their own. It was some comfort that they’d been able to survive this long without any help.

  At the door with her bag clutched by her side, she asked Maggie one last time. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re safe here,” she replied, looking over her shoulder to the living room. “I’ve got my parents just down the road. Besides, they already saved my life once.” The way she said it, like it wasn’t a big deal, squeezed Kristine’s heart.

  “I’ll be back up as soon as I can.”

  During the trip back, all the thoughts she’d pushed away about Christopher flooded to the surface. In the quiet hum of the car, she had nothing else to distract her. Each realization was like another slap to the face.

  Everything he lied about… I knew the job sounded a little weird. He was always cagey when I asked him about it, but I always thought it was because he was ashamed of having to do manual labor. But now… He’s working with Jamie and his brother isn’t in finance. No. And Steel is Steele, as in in, Steele Industries. He lied to me for our entire relationship. All those months I busted my ass supporting him and come to find out, he’s one of the wealthiest people in the country, if not the world?

  She seethed. It was one thing after another, snipets of conversations, memories of him lying by omission about even the smallest things. All her happy memories of him were now tainted. The proposal, their dates, their laughter, their baby…

  Kristine looked down to the hand she rested on her stomach. A new thought occurred to her, something that made her feel sick to her stomach.

  Is that why I’m still pregnant? Because of him? All those babies… all those families who lost their children. Is the only reason I’m still pregnant because my baby will become a Steele?

  Not that she wanted any other outcome, but her pregnancy complicated it. If she were single, she would simply disappear. She had enough contacts, she could run, hide. Get the Seed physically extracted and stay under the radar until this whole thing blew over. But with the baby on the way,

  I don’t know what he’s capable of now. I don’t know who he is, what he wants. But I do know, as long as I’m pregnant, I’m safe. If I can feign ignorance about the rest, I’ll at least buy myself a few months of safety.

  If she allowed herself to dwell on these thoughts, she’d never be able to keep up the facade. Instead, she turned to the one thing that she could do well; research. With a key puzzle piece in place, she could research the Steele family and learn everything he’d tried to keep hidden. With her nose buried in her tablet, Kristine spent the rest of the trip back to the city preparing.

  When the car pulled to a stop a block away from their unit, she climbed out onto the street with trembling feet. The stench of decay instantly hit her nose. The piles of black plastic bags on the side of the road weren’t garbage. They were bodies. And in the humid, oppressive summer heat of the city, they were rotting at an incredible rate.

  She had been so distracted by her own thoughts, she hadn’t noticed the changes outside her window as she flew into the city. The streets were littered with corpses, the normal authorities too overwhelmed to handle the death toll.

  God, it’s like no sooner do we bury our dead than another batch dies, she thought.

  Even in the middle of the day, road traffic was almost non-existent. Everyone who could get out of the city, apparently had. The heat brought most people out of their units and into the streets, which was normal in the summer. But there was a new kind of tension in the air, a suspicious feeling with every group she passed.

  The smell, the cautious looks, the heat… she regretted stopping the car so far from their unit. Tightening her grip on the overnight bag, she picked up her pace and hoped she’d gotten back in time.

  Kristine didn’t expect to find Christopher pacing in their small apartment. When she opened the door and shifted her bag to the other hand, she caught the movement inside the dark room out of the corner of her eye and shrieked.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded, flying from the darkness. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside as if the hallway posed some type of danger. His eyes looked haunted and manic. “What happened to you?”

  The greeting, and the scenes outside, had left her flustered and faint. A hot sheen of sweat broke out across her skin. “I was out. I… I need to sit down.” She played up the dizziness, buying herself some time.

  Christopher guided her to the bed, handing her his glass of water. “You didn’t answer any of my calls. You weren’t here when I got home an hour ago. The place looks like you haven’t been here for days and I…”

  She was surprised by the tears on his cheeks. He’s a better actor than I ever gave him credit for, she thought. She knew her performances would never rise to the same level. Everything she said would have to be half-truths, otherwise he would see right through them. “I’m okay. I didn’t want to worry you, but I was out chasing a story.”

  “The city is burning and you’re out working?”

  “My work begins when things start to burn,” she snapped. Crouched in front of her feet, he physically recoiled, his ass landing hard on the wooden floor. He curled his knees up to his chest and wiped the tears from the apples of his cheeks. “I’m sorry. It’s been a difficult day,” she continued in a softer tone.

  “I was so worried.”

  Kristine almost believed him. “I know. I’m sorry. Truly. I’m glad you’re home, though,” she said, squeezing his hand.

  Walking up those stairs to their unit, she thought she’d have time to collect her thoughts. She’d spent the entirety of the trip home seething with rage, each memory and thought only adding fuel to the flames. Once in the quiet space of her home, she’d wanted a chance to think things through and plan her strategy. Now, she’d have to think on her feet.

  “How was work?” She impressed herself. There wasn’t the slightest hint of derision or blame in the words.

  Christopher scowled at her as if she were crazy. “How was—how do you think it was? I was trapped up there, as the world tore itself apart, ripped away from you. They wouldn’t let us leave until things calmed down and…”

  Once her head felt a little clearer, she shifted back to her elbows. “What did you see? Did you see anything happen? Or were you safe?” Almost like an afterthought, she reached out to touch the days old stubble on his cheek. He barely noticed. The haunted look returned to his eyes.

  “I did, yeah. It was pretty brutal.”

  “What happened?”

  His throat clicked as he swallowed. She handed him the glass of water, which he took but didn’t sip. “There was a security guard. He was one of the ones who snapped.” His dark eyes darted up to hers. She focused on maintaining an appropriate response, acting as though this was entirely new information.

  “God. Was he armed?”

  Christopher nodded. “He managed to kill three people before someone tackled him to the ground. We were lucky. We were a big group and only two snapped.”

  I guess I’m not the only using half-truths to get through this.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been for you.” Maybe he heard the sarcasm in her voice. It could’ve been the tremor in her touch, but he looked up at her questioningly. She hurried
through, hoping to push by it. “You said your brother has someplace we can stay? Somewhere upstate?”

  He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah. Right after it all happened, Jamie called and offered it to us.”

  “He’s there now?”

  “Yeah. He was actually up there when it all went down, was taking a couple days off. With the stock markets shut and all, there isn’t a lot for him to do down here.”

  Saliva filled her mouth, a precursor to the vomit she knew was coming. She swung her legs off the side of the bed and patted him on the shoulder. “Morning sickness,” she lied.

  “Do you need—”

  “I’m fine, really,” she waved him away. She hugged the cold porcelain with both hands as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the bowl. As she fumbled up for the handle to flush away the first wave, she imagined it was powerful enough to suck her down and away with it. Into the sewers, out to the sea, anywhere but here.

  “You need anything?”

  With a weak voice she knew would garner sympathy, she called back. “I’m okay.”

  “I’ll make you a decaf or tea, okay?”

  “That sounds great, thank you, baby.” Even though it was the last thing in the world she wanted, she happily accepted the offer. His aversion to throwing up bought her time to think.

  Whether it was genuine or not, he showed her a lot of caring and affection. He was honestly worried for her well-being, brought to tears at the thought of something happening to her. Or to the baby I’m carrying. In any case, that was the key to surviving any further interaction. She could play that card over and over. If he wanted to pretend to be the dutiful husband, willing to give or get anything for his expectant bride, then she would milk it for all it was worth.

  She flushed the toilet once more, splashed cold water on her face, and walked back into the main room patting her face dry with a towel.

  Christopher ducked his head around the corner from the small kitchen. “Feeling any better?” Kristine wanted to claw that sympathetic expression off his face with her nails.