“I need you to be strong, Grim. Stronger than me. I need to know you’ll get out of here, and take care of my daughter.”
“We can both do that. Together.”
Sinatra poked his big, black nose over Grim’s shoulder. His smile was gone.
“I’m drowning in my own blood, Grim. You know, it’s funny. When I went into the light, I knew I wouldn’t be coming back. But I thought I was redeeming myself. That I’d have this big, heroic ending. One where I’d die saving everyone.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“We all die, Grim. But for me, it’s now. And I don’t get to be the hero.”
“Of course you’re the hero. Brooklyn would be so proud of you, Presley.”
Again, Grim tried to stand up and go for help.
Again, Presley held him back.
“Stay.”
He shook his head. “There’s still a chance.”
“Brooklyn needed me to stay. And I need you to stay.”
He sniffled. Nodded. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“I want two things.”
“Name them.”
She told Grim the first, and he agreed.
“What’s the second thing?”
“I want to have sex, one more time before I die.”
“Are you serious?”
She smiled. “Of course I’m not serious. But I will take a kiss.”
Grim gave Presley a tender kiss, careful not to hurt her as much as he needed her lips on his, using every bit of strength he had left not to start bawling.
FABLER ○ 2:36+pm
“Don’t think about the supplication collar, and don’t touch the supplication collar. Make the cut right under his jaw. Be fast.”
Fabler had climbed on top of the gurney and did a handstand, his feet touching the ceiling. Mu wrapped the plastic around his ankles, and Fabler hung there, upside-down.
“You’ll have about twenty seconds to reattach his head before he’s gone for good.”
“Then the scalpel won’t work?”
“The scalpel works on the living. But it can’t replace lost tissue. And it can’t revive the dead. Even if it could restart Mr. Fabler’s heart, he will have lost too much blood for his circulatory system to function properly.”
Fabler closed his eyes.
“Can’t we use the sculptor to slow his heartbeat? Reset his pacemaker?”
“I’ve figured that into my equations. But this all depends on how quickly the collar drops off, and how quickly you can retrieve Mr. Fabler’s head.”
“You appear agitated, Mr. Fabler.”
Fabler brushed it off. “I’m fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve died.”
“Well, according to my figures, you only have a 39.83932112% chance of dying. Provided Mr. McKendrick doesn’t have butterfingers.”
“I never got picked for football games in school. I always fumbled. Sorry. I babble when I’m nervous.”
“Make that a 46.93029290% chance of dying. Do you suffer from vasovagal syncope, Mr. McKendrick?”
“You’re asking if I faint?”
“Yes. Specifically, at the sight of blood.”
“No. Well, once. But that was a long time ago.”
“With that additional data, I’m revising the odds to 58.8913—”
Fabler’s eyes snapped open. “Stop telling me the damn odds. Let’s do this.”
“I’ll go through the order one more time. First, Mr. McKendrick needs to hold the laser scalpel above Mr. Fabler’s heart. Once his heartrate slows to forty beats per minute, bring the scalpel to his jaw. Cut through in one quick, smooth motion, following the line of the jaw straight through the spine to the back of the skull. There will be a lot of blood, but try to catch his head. I’ll release Mr. Fabler’s feet the moment after the collar drops off, and you must align his head and neck stump and reactivate the sculptor.”
“Is it going to hurt?”
“I don’t expect it will hurt you at all, Mr. McKendrick. But I image it won’t be pleasant for Mr. Fabler. You mentioned you died before.”
“Yesterday. My best friend suffocated me.”
“Of course. Mr. Pilgrim. He’s currently loose in the compound, causing a lot of havoc. He’s the reason that Omega 1 and all of the beasties are running around. I saw the footage of your murder, Mr. Fabler. If it matters, it wasn’t intentional. Mr. Pilgrim seemed very upset. He even prayed to God. I take it your atheism extends to not believing in an afterlife.”
“When I died, there was nothing.”
“If there is life after death, how would you know the difference between the two? Have you ever considered that you are dead now? Or that you have died many times before? Or that death, itself, doesn’t exist, and that everything is an illusion?”
“Apologies, Mr. Fabler. Not the best time for a philosophical chat. Mr. McKendrick, hold the scalpel to Mr. Fabler’s chest. Mr. Fabler, this may get… uncomfortable.”
A fist closed around Fabler’s heart, squeezing so tight he couldn’t take a breath.
“Pulse at eighty-six bpm… eighty… seventy-four…”
“Sixty-two… fifty-five…”
“Forty-nine… forty-five…”
“Move the scalpel to the jawline.”
Fabler opened his mouth to object, but only a wheeze escaped his lips.
Fabler stared at Jake, trying to convey his urgency, trying to show him with a silent look that this was the mother of all bad plans.
Jake didn’t meet Fabler’s eyes. He glared at Fabler’s throat with intense concentration, his tongue protruding slightly from the corner of his mouth.
“Cut, Mr. McKendrick! Cut now!”
Pain seared Fabler’s neck—
—then he experienced the most intense vertigo of all time, the world spinning, all sense of balance and direction gone, his mind scrambled, thoughts and memories and imagination all melting together.
Something hit Fabler in the ear, hard enough to bring out the stars.
The jumble of years came rushing back, but it all seemed so impossible.
Fabler opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“Holy shit! He’s trying to talk!”
“Twenty seconds, Mr. McKendrick.”
Fabler blinked. Tried to focus.
“There’s so much blood.”
“Push his torso, Mr. McKendrick. Give it a shove.”
“His collar is still on his neck.”
“Don’t think about the collar. It will activate your own—”
“AAAARRRGHHHH!”
Fabler startled as something dropped next to him.
Jake McKendrick, on all fours, shaking in agony as his supplication collar lit up.
Jake’s limbs gave out and he fell onto his face.
The whole stupid plan came rushing back to Fabler, hitting like a linebacker.
Thoughts becoming fuzzy, Fabler looked sideways, saw his headless body hanging from the ceiling, raining down blood from the stump.
“Mr. McKendrick! Get up! Mr. Fabler has fourteen seconds left.”
Jake’s eyelids fluttered.
“It’s your story, Mr. Fabler.”
Jake opened his eyes and got up off the floor.
Jake pushed Fabler’s chest.
The supplication collar fell to the floor.
“Eight seconds. I’m dropping the body,”
Fabler watched, oddly detached
Then someone grabbed his head—
—and dropped it.
Fabler rolled away, a bowling ball, his thoughts and the world around him—real or imagined—spinning crazily.
“Three seconds, Mr. McKendrick.”
“Where’s the laser scalpel?”
Everything went fuzzy.
Then dark.
…
…
…
Then things became bright.
Impossibly bright.
Brighter than the light that brought him here.
The brightness narrowed to a single point, like a tunnel.
Two people appeared. A man and a woman. Elderly. Then morphing into their twenties. Then old again.
“Mom. Dad.”
Mom smiled, the same kind smile he knew for most of his life. “Hello, son.”
“It’s good to see you.” Dad opened his arms, and Fabler hugged him.
Fabler felt his consciousness scrubbed clean, everything negative rinsing away, replaced by realization and pure happiness.
“Is this heaven, Dad?”
“It’s whatever you want it to be, son.”
“It’s your story, Fabler.” His mother touched his hair. “It’s always been your story.”
“Everything you’ve ever done, son. Everything you’ll ever do. It’s all through your eyes. It’s all up to you.”
…
…
…
“HUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!”
Fabler sucked in a drowning breath, filling his lungs, choking on blood and coughing it up and jackknifing to a sitting position.
Jake squatted next to him and reached out, patting Fabler’s shoulder. “That was intense.”
“We lost you for a few seconds, Mr. Fabler. Obviously, in my calculations, I didn’t take into account your will to live. Jake didn’t restart your heart. It restarted on its own.”
Fabler coughed a few more times. Spat. The lab looked like a slaughterhouse. Resting on a puddle of blood, Fabler’s supplication collar twinkled at him. Fabler automatically touched his neck.
He rolled his head around, feeling completely normal.
“Indulge me, Mr. Fabler. You were dead for twelve seconds. Did you see anything?”
Fabler glanced at Mu. “I saw your future.”
“My future? How interesting. Did you want to share it with me?”
“If I did, that would spoil the surprise.”
“There have been many studies done proving that spoilers actually enhance an experience, rather than detract from it.”
“I promise I’ll tell you later, when the time is right. Help me get Jake’s collar off.”
Jake raised his hand. “I’ve had a change of heart about that. I figure that once we find the Watcher, you can force him to take it off me.”
“Fine. You carry the pocket calculator. Keep him in his cage.”
“You don’t trust me yet, Mr. Fabler?”
“Trust is a two way street, Mu. How many prisoners are here?”
“Including you two, twenty-three.”
“There were more than that. How many were abducted?”
“Over the years? One hundred and eleven.”
“What happened to them?”
“From what I could observe, various things. It took time for the Watcher to perfect his DNA stripping techniques. There were casualties. He also had obedience problems. He originally used a euphoric drug, known as Elixir, to keep volunteers in a happy stupor.”
Fabler shook his head, hearing his neck vertebra crackle disconcertingly. “Stop calling them volunteers. No one volunteered. They were taken.”
“Noted. Even with careful dosing, some abductees reacted differently to the Elixir than others. Some overdosed. When the Watcher dialed back the amount, rebellion ensued. He’s been walking a fine line between reward and punishment in order to make sure his captives live for as long as they can while staying as healthy as they can.”
“And if their health fails?” Fabler feared he already knew the answer.
“They are incorporated into the Experiment. You’ve seen it.”
“I killed it.”
“You didn’t kill it. The recovery team was able to revive it, though it did lose some tissue and limbs. The Watcher punitively removes limbs from prisoners. It’s usually temporary; a foot for a week, a hand for a month. He eventually returns them.”
“That’s… horrible.”
Both Fabler and Mu ignored Jake.
“Has my wife ever had… limbs taken?”
“Many times. Your sister as well, Mr. McKendrick.”
Fabler clenched his fists, fighting rage. “How about the heads? The Experiment had human heads.”
“Those were abductees who were no longer productive. They passed optimal gene harvesting age. Their disobedience proved too extreme. They failed to thrive in captivity.”
“When I cut off their heads…”
“You killed them.”
Fabler closed his eyes and rubbed his face.
“If it eases your guilt, those incorporated into the Experiment usually lose their minds very quickly. I assume most of them would welcome death, but their free will had been taken. There would have been no realistic way to extract them so they could return to society. Also, the Experiment was ordered to kill you. It was self-defense.”
“They were human beings. Innocent human beings.”
“The only ones truly innocent are babies. And there are no babies here. Your friend, Grim, had been put into the breeding program. But the Watcher has been trying for decades to create a viable human baby. Your wife, Lori, arrived with semen inside of her. Yours. So did your friend, Presley, courtesy of Grim. The Watcher was able to make sure they conceived. If he can do it quickly enough after a new specimen is abducted, it can work. But usually Omega 1 corrupts the process.”
Jake raised his hand, like a student with a question. “What does the demon do?”
“Bub can—how can I put this so you understand? He is able to infect those with weakened immune systems with his own stem cells, mutating the DNA. I don’t know for sure how he does it. He invades a body with his cells, somehow.”
“Then what happens?”
“Those with compromised immune systems, including fetuses, become corrupted.”
Fabler tried to say his wife’s name, but his throat constricted.
“Lori might be far enough along that your baby can fight the infection. The Watcher has been monitoring her pregnancy closely. So far, no abnormalities. But I won’t know until I check her. The Watcher foolishly brought her out of her cell with Bub in the compound.”
“How about Presley?”
“There is a 54.599681% chance Bub’s cells have invaded her and hijacked the zygote.”
Jake articulated Fabler’s thought. “Then what happens?”
“Have you seen the movie Rosemary’s Baby? It’s similar to that. But considerably bigger. And more formidable.”
“Can you fix it with the sculptor thing?”
“No. But if it is caught soon enough, the pregnancy can be terminated and the host saved. It has to be soon, though. If Bub infects a fetus, the development is accelerated.”
What Happened to Lori Page 59
