by Stone, J.
“Do not do that!” shouted the professor in irritation.
Everyone in the bar turned to watch the professor as he stormed forward toward their table.
“You could have won that hand,” he continued. “The fat man had at best two threes, the tall one had a decent set, but not anything to fear, and the dirty one was bluffing - he had nothing!”
The dirty man, irritated at this interruption pointed a finger at Rowland and said, “Get outta here, old man. You dunno what yer talkin about.”
“Of course I do,” he continued, oblivious to an angry looking man coming into the saloon behind him. “You always lick your lips when you bluff, you ugly buffoon,” he said pointing at the dirty man.
“You, fat man, scratch your chin when you have a safe bet,” he said with a finger aimed at the fat man.
“You blink too much when you have a set that you know you should not be wagering on,” he said while pointing at the tall man.
“And you,” he said pointing at the well-mannered man who was staring behind Rowland with a pale-white face.
It was at this point Rowland heard the click of a pistol hammer being cocked back and then felt the barrel of a gun pressing against the back of his head.
“You the one selling tonics in town?” a voice behind him asked.
“Whatever problem you are having, gentleman,” the professor began holding his hands up in the air as he talked, “I am sure we can work it out peacefully.”
The dirty man at the table who had been insulted enough stood up and removed his revolver from its holster and also pointing it at Rowland said, “Who are you? This man was just about to get a severe lesson in manners. He interrupted our game of dice.”
The man behind Rowland spoke up again, “He sold my brother’s wife a tonic. She just went home and killed him in cold blood.”
“Your brother can go to hell for all I care. He probably had it coming,” said the dirty man.
The man behind Rowland pushed the professor aside and knocked him to the floor. The man then pointed his pistol instead at the dirty man. “What did you say about my brother, mister?”
The other three men at the dice table took this opportunity to get out of their chairs and step back quite quickly. The scene seemed all too common to the men. Behind the saloon bar, even the owner had dropped below the counter to avoid any possible stray bullets.
Rowland’s arm, meanwhile, began to throb with a cold, numb pain that he was all too familiar with. He instinctively pulled a syringe of biojunk from his bag and injected himself in the arm, just above the gauntlet. A warm, soothing sensation filled his whole body, while the two men continued to berate each other.
With the biojunk working its way through his system, Rowland stood up and casually strolled out of the bar, having completely forgotten about the altercation behind him. Outside the saloon, Erynn and Germ were talking on the other side of the street and Tern had begun to approach them from a ways down the dusty road.
Rowland waved and walked up to the two of them. “Hello, it is me. Dr. Maxwell Rowland.”
“We know who you are, sir,” Germ replied. “Did you manage to sell any of your ‘miracle’ tonics?”
“As a matter of fact, I sold two,” he answered. Seeing the frown on Germ’s face the professor then asked, “You are not still upset about the broom and dustpan debacle are you?”
“I don’t have any idea what you were thinking, sir,” the rat responded.
“I said I was sorry about that,” Rowland explained. “It is just that I thought those were your favorite possessions. You were always running around the manor with them.”
Sighing, Germ explained, “That’s because you always make a mess, sir.”
“At least I grabbed the journal,” Rowland said.
“It’s something, I suppose,” Germ admitted.
“Anyway,” the professor went on, “a nice young lady told me about a buggy that comes to Dust Grove that should be arriving back here soon.”
“That’s good,” Erynn said smiling. “I think if we pool our money we should be able to buy a ride there.”
Behind them, they heard a series of gunshots fired from within the saloon, causing the professor to jerk startled. “I wonder what that was all about,” he declared.
“I told you the west is pretty lawless,” Erynn responded.
As she made the statement, a sheriff with pistols drawn ran toward the saloon, rushing cautiously inside.
“Well, mostly lawless, I guess,” she amended. “Where is this transport supposed to be, Max?”
Tern then arrived and answered that question inadvertently, “I have secured transport for three life forms and one automaton. We leave in one-quarter hour and the price is not negotiable. Twenty-five coins. If we have acquired this sum, then we will be in Dust Grove by dusk tonight. We are to meet the driver on the other side of town.”
“Guess that answers that,” Erynn said. “I guess we should head that way then.”
They began to walk along the road, but the professor turned back and stopped, staring at the saloon.
“What’s the matter, sir?” asked Germ.
“I am not sure, old friend,” he replied. “I just feel like I may have forgotten about something is all. Oh well. It could not have been too important, I suppose.”
Chapter 6. Fiona the Experiment
Newton, as she had come to call herself in her current state, crouched in the corner of her cell. Her head ached and throbbed terribly, so in a failing attempt to dull the pain she pressed her forehead firmly into the cold tiles of the prison wall.
She found herself waiting in terror for the moment she knew would be coming soon. It was all coming to pass as she had seen. Earlier that day the scientists had taken her for that one last surgery, the moon was shining brightly through a window at the end of the hall, and she could feel the change starting to happen. She felt it all the way down to her bones.
Dr. Norton had failed to attend the surgery, she noted. Maybe he doesn’t understand what will happen, she thought. Before she will leave this place, Fiona - her other self, would pay the doctor a visit. Give him a proper farewell, as Fiona put it. Newton, however, felt sadness for what she would do to him, despite all he had done to her. Fiona is stronger than her, she thought. Too strong to fight anymore.
The young woman had been in her cage for several years. Before she was taken away for experiments, she spent a few months in the Bedlam Hospital’s psychiatric center, suffering from delusions and paranoia. The doctors there decided she couldn’t be helped, and she was shipped off to the Center for Empirical Research, with the approval of her family.
When she was first admitted to the hospital, she had been at a school dance. Another girl made a comment about her dress. She proceeded to beat her half to death before they pulled her off the girl.
Ever since that night, anytime someone tried to remove the dress and get her to wear something else, she would snap, viciously attacking that person. Having eventually learned and accepted this, the guards and scientists allowed her to keep the tattered and filthy dress.
Newton began to have more of her visions, sitting in that familiar cell. Sights of things to come, things Fiona desperately wanted to happen, things Newton would fail to prevent.
There was a man on a horse - he obeyed her orders, he wanted so badly to make her happy, he loved her, he wouldn’t let her be alone ever again. She saw a man kill his brother for her. She saw a husband attack his wife for her.
Beneath her feet in the cold, wet darkness, Newton saw a piece of Erynn. Something she desperately wanted. It was lodged against the back of a dead man’s skull, struggling in vain to keep moving forward.
It would begin soon, Newton thought. Very soon. Fiona was going to roam these halls a free woman - to see all the people who had kept her company since her arrival in this place. She would thank them for all they had given her.
“You don’t have to do this,” she pleaded.
“You’re wrong about that, little Newton,” a voice in her head answered. “I’m coming... and we’re going to have such fun!”
Newton struggled to prevent the change, but her efforts were to no avail - Fiona had arrived. Instantly she stood up - the pain in her head was gone and the visions had evaporated like smoke. Even her eyes had changed from the bright, blue color to a dark, viscous black.
“So then,” she said, cocking her head to the side and smiling a wild, wide grin. “It’s my turn now!”
Just as she said it, the cogs in the door of her cage came alive. The gears began to spin, pulling the slab of metal that locked the door backward out of the wall. Fiona held out one finger at eye level and pushed the door forward slightly causing a quiet creaking.
“Door will open,” she said to herself coldly, “Check.”
She casually strolled out of her cage, approaching a cart where a scalpel had been so carelessly left in the hallway. Fiona picked up the sharp implement, holding it close to her face and rotating it so that the moonlight reflected off the chrome blade.
“Metal will shine,” she said smiling wickedly. “Check.”
She strolled slowly down the hallway, placing her hand behind her back - the scalpel squeezed tightly in her grip. Calling to the guards stationed at the room’s entrance she echoed down the long hall, “I think there’s something wrong with my door, boys. I need a little help. Are you the guys to give it to me?”
Two of the guards quickly ran down the hallway and slowed as they approached her, their hands held out in pacification. “All right, Ms. Newton,” one of them said. “Let’s just calm down and we’ll get you back to your room.”
“Newton’s not here right now,” she said. “I’m Fiona. You’ll like me so much more. Promise!”
Fiona lurched forward with an uncanny speed, flourishing the knife and brushing it lightly across the first guard’s throat, blood spurting out at her. With the grace of a dancer, she then rushed toward the second guard and pushed the scalpel into his abdomen.
She stared coldly into his eyes for a moment, blood gushing out onto her hands in light, but steady waves. She jerked the knife upward, spilling out the contents of the man’s body onto the dirty floor of the lab. Fiona let go of the knife, and he pressed forward brushing past her shoulder, as he fell. She stared toward the guards at the end of the hall, smiling and tilting her head.
“Blood will spurt and flow. Check and check,” she exclaimed in joy looking down at both the dead guard’s bodies. “Oooh. You’ve got a bigger toy,” she said to the dead guard at her feet. She knelt down, pulled a long dagger from its sheath, and pricked the tip of her finger with it. “You’ll do just fine, sweetie.”
At the guard station, the two men still there had activated the alarm, causing the same high-pitched sound as the night Erynn had abandoned her there. The remaining guards armed themselves with batons and cautiously approached Fiona. Entering from the door, three more guards ran into the room following suit.
Fiona looked at them innocently, asking, “Have you seen my doctor? I don’t think my medication is having its intended effect.” Another wide smile crept across her face, before she began to whistle an eerie tune as the guards approached her.
The first one’s hand she effortlessly severed at the wrist and then kicked away into another guard. She grabbed the second’s baton with ease as he swung at her, following it up with a swift thrust of her blade into his neck, splattering her face with a fresh layer of blood.
She firmly placed her blade up and through the bottom of the third guard’s chin, and she caught a glimpse of the metal inside his mouth while he gasped for breath. She slashed the fourth guard’s leg, severing an artery and knocked him to the ground.
The fifth man, who had pushed off the first guard from on top of him stood back up and started to run after seeing the carnage she had unleashed on the others. Fiona was in no mood to chase him, however, and simply hurled the blade after him, striking the man in his back.
“Ugh,” was all he could manage before falling to the ground mere inches from the doorway.
Looking down, she spotted the severed hand from the first guard and picked it up. She carried the hand to where the guard had crawled away to and threw the hand in his lap. She stopped whistling for a moment and smiled, “You forgot this, mister.”
Fiona exited the room, and she was met with a choice that consisted of three hallways - left, forward, or right. “Hmm. Where is that doctor of ours, Newton?” she asked herself aloud. Her dark-black eyes scattered back and forth as if watching something play out just for her.
When the rapid eye movement stopped, she raised one foot and twisted the other on the spot, smearing blood as she did. “Left it is, then.”
Fiona continued whistling and began to skip down the hallway - her bare feet slapping against the tiled floor as she landed each step. With each bounce, she left behind a splattered trail of the blood still dripping off her. The alarm quieted as she put distance between her and the lottery room, and her melody more loudly echoed throughout the empty halls of the center.
She soon arrived at a bronzed metal door with the name, ‘Dr. Blake Norton’ engraved into its side. She politely knocked at the door and waited a moment for a response. She heard movement inside and the doorknob began to turn. Fiona raised her foot calmly and placed the sole against the cold metal, pushing violently against it.
The door made a thud sound as it hit something inside, followed by the sound of someone hitting the floor. The bronze door bounced back toward her and Fiona pushed it in, leaving a bloody palm print covering up the engraved name. She looked to the floor to see Dr. Norton passed out - a trickle of blood coming from his nose, and she entered the room, closing the door behind her.
“Doctor?” she said to the unconscious man. “I’ve come for my check-up.” She easily picked up the man and placed him in his chair limply.
“You know,” she continued. “I’ve always wanted to be a doctor.” After a brief pause she exclaimed, “Hey! Let’s play doctor and patient! First step: that fancy coat!”
Fiona leaned the man forward and pulled off his white lab coat, wrapping herself in it. The bottom part of her dirty dress extended outward from underneath the coat, and the sleeves began to redden as they pressed against her bloody hands and arms.
She caught a glimpse of her appearance in a mirror on the backside of the doctor’s door and modeled her new outfit. She smiled at the reflection and mimed her impersonation of a doctor.
“I look terrific,” she exclaimed. “Now I just need some doctor-ish supplies - syringes... maybe that hammer thingy... one of those eye scopes...” Fiona looked around the room, gathering a few things and shoving them into the lab coat’s pockets. She then smashed her hand through a security panel on the wall, pulling out a series of long wires.
“Nurse!” she said to herself in a deep, mocking voice. “Please restrain the patient.”
“Yes, doctor,” she said in a lighter voice. Going back to the doctor, she wrapped the cords around his legs and arms tying him down to the swivel chair.
She slapped the doctor’s face in an attempt to wake him up. He twitched slightly, but didn’t regain consciousness.
Frustrated, Fiona spun him around a few times and then stopped the chair, slapping him again. “Wakey, wakey, my little Blakey.”
“Ugh,” he groaned, as he refocused his vision. “What? What’s happening?” Realizing he was in restraints, Dr. Norton began to jerk at the cords trying to escape from the chair.
“Heya, doc,” Fiona stated cheerfully.
“Ms. Newton? What the hell are you doing? Release me at once!”
“You guys really gotta keep up,” she replied. “Newton’s gone. I’m your new friend, Fiona. I came to thank you for all the help you gave me.”
“What in the name of science are you blabbering on about, Ms. Newton?” he asked.
“Fiona... And you helped me, doc. I wouldn’t even be here without you.
Now I’m going to help you,” she said, ridding her face of the smile and her eyes going dead and still.
At this new visage, Dr. Norton took a large gulp and began to perspire.
“First we’ll need to draw a bit of blood.” Fiona pulled a syringe from her pocket and jammed it aggressively into the doctor’s stomach.
“Aghhhh!” the doctor screamed, convulsing at the stabbing.
Fiona pulled back on the syringe plunger, causing the doctor to groan a bit more. She pulled the needle out and eyed the dark contents carefully.
“Hmm,” she started. “This doesn’t look good. Not good at all. Nurse! Check his vitals.” She tossed the syringe behind her carelessly.
“Please, stop,” he pleaded.
“This is for your own good, doc.” Fiona wrapped another cord around his left arm tightly and put her finger near where the wires were restricting his blood flow. “Hmm, not tight enough I guess,” she said, not getting the results she desired. She pulled the cords even tighter. The wires began to tear through his flesh, squirting out streams of blood.
“Ahhhh! Please, no more!” he screamed. “You can just go. I won’t say anything to the guards. Just please stop.”
“Nope. This just won’t do,” she said, ignoring his words. “Perhaps it’s a problem with the... brain,” she gasped. “I’ve always wanted to do a brain examination!”
“Oh, god,” he said. “Don’t do this, please. I’m begging you, Ms. Newton.”
“MY NAME IS FIONA!” she shouted, staring piercingly into his eyes.
“Now, then,” she continued with a sinister smile. “We’ll need to take a look inside. I’m going to have to really get in there and find some answers,” she said sternly. She peered around the office, eventually settling her eyes on the scale in the corner.
She walked over to it, placing her foot on the scale and grabbing hold of the vertical rod extending up to the balance beam. Fiona then easily tore the heavy, metal rod from its base and walked back to the doctor.
“No, please,” the doctor pleaded one last time.
“Don’t worry, doc,” she said consolingly. “I know what I’m doing, and let me tell you, this is going to fix everything!” She raised the rod up and then came down hard striking the doctor in the head. She raised it again and swung down another time. Fiona repeated the attack several more times before stopping abruptly.
