by Josiah Upton
“Um,” the guide utters into the microphone, at a loss. “While not very common, the Hybrid Reanimate species is capable of mimicking simple human articulations, especially since their vocal cords remain intact after their transformation.”
Sonny, the male, slowly rises from the ground and faces Coco. The Lust seems to have left him, and he is no longer pursuing her. He turns and walks back to his half of the house, appearing almost to have an air of rejection.
“Uh-oh, looks like Sonny isn't in the mood anymore. Let's see if we can't fix that.” The image on Sonny's screen switches to a man and woman kissing intensely, and the guide points this out to him. Sonny looks at it for a moment, then ignores it and slouches down into a chair.
“Uh...” The guide fiddles with the control some more, trying different visual stimuli, each one more explicit than before, until my own Lust is riled and I have to consciously ignore it, while a few teenagers hoot and holler, and offended adults grumble. But Sonny still doesn't pay attention. This beast isn't very cooperative at acting beast-like.
Coco leaves her half of the glass house and enters his, stopping a few feet behind him, and places a hand on his shoulder. This looks like an act of compassion, maybe even an apology. Hushed whispers murmur across the crowd, and a man in a suit climbs on stage, frantically telling the guide something that I can't hear. Sonny doesn't look up at Coco, but instead bends his neck and nuzzles his cheek on her hand. The audience melts at the display.
But something inside me feels like it breaks.
The guide's frantic voice returns. “Uh, I've just been informed that it's time for Sonny and Coco's daily visit from the zoo veterinarian, so we'll have to say goodbye for now.” He taps on the glass, trying to get Coco's attention. “Time to go, Coco. Bed-bed, now.” She looks up at him, grunts, then ignores him as she continues to reconcile with Sonny.
“Bed-bed, Coco, now.” The guide holds up the remote control so that she can see it, holding his thumb over a large yellow button. This means something to her, because she grunts louder, seemingly in protest, and backs away from her male counterpart and towards her room. Sonny doesn't like this. He chases and grabs onto her, not out of Lust, but what appears to be attachment. This reminds me of the story Gibbs told me, about what happened in his old basement long ago.
“Sonny!” the guide shrieks. The Hybrid doesn't listen. A red button next to the yellow one is pressed, and Sonny falls to his knees, clutching his collar and howling madly. I know I can handle a great deal of pain, often not even realizing it's been inflicted, so whatever that collar is doing must be very powerful. Coco leans over to inspect, worry on her gray face. The yellow button is pressed and she falls too, grabbing her neck and writhing in pain.
No more. Forget the hogs and the Hunger, my Rage is now taking over. I start pushing my way through the crowd, many not noticing because they're too absorbed by the display. Just when I'm a few feet away from the stage I feel a hand on my chest. I look down, ready to rip it off, when I notice the pale skin, and the dark sleeve that covers the slender arm it's attached to.
When I lift my gaze I'm met with blue eyes, strands of blonde hair whipping around them in the breeze. She came back. Genny takes my hand, and pulls me out of the crowd.
Chapter 28
My eyes squint as I look out towards the bright sky above the trees, sitting in the park located just outside the zoo. It's still so hard to look at her, now that she knows what I am. My hand covers the patch of skin where my makeup was rubbed off, as if hiding it will allow us to pretend nothing has changed. Genny scoots over on the grassy area under the large tree where we sit, forcing herself into view. “We should really touch that up.”
“We?” I ask, still averting eye contact.
“Yes. All you need to do is sit still, and I'll fix you up. Do you have any makeup with you?” I nod, motioning to my backpack. She rummages through it, pulling out a smaller toiletry bag that I keep my makeup in, and dumps it all out on the ground. “Wow, this is more than I have at home.” I shoot her a look of aggravation. “Sorry, I... sorry. Which one do I use first?”
I point at a certain shade of foundation, then look around the park nervously. “Are you sure we should be doing this out in the open?”
“Yeah,” she says, untwisting the container and grabbing a makeup sponge. “No one's close enough to see. And even if someone walks by, they won't know exactly what's going on. They'll just think you're the average teenage guy, getting his friend to paint up his face... sorry.”
She leans in and goes to work, and I can't help but think of the last time her face was this close to mine, when we almost kissed. So much has changed since then that it feels like it didn't even happen. Well, actually, it didn't happen, and it never will. I was so stupid to even let my guard down that much.
“So, what did you think about that Hybrid exhibit? Was it as bad as I described it, or worse?”
“Are you serious?” I say, scooting a foot away from her. “You want to talk about that? What about this?!” I throw a finger up to the very patch of gray skin and dark blue veins that she was applying makeup to. I'm amazed that she hasn't brought up my condition since it was revealed to her. “I'm a freak of nature, illegally walking around in a society that would gladly shoot and kill me if they knew. Doesn't it concern you that you became my friend? That we... that you... that you almost...”
“Kissed a boy that wears more makeup than I do?” she says, a small grin on her face.
“Stop it!” I scream, standing up and walking away from her, placing my hands on the tree trunk. “This is serious. Do you have any idea what I'm capable of? It's not funny.”
“It's kinda funny,” she says. I hear her stand up, and approach me from behind. “I'm a Phase I on the verge of transformation, my dad works for the APA, my nextdoor neighbor is a Hybrid-hating lunatic, and my only friend is an undead guy wearing a wig and makeup. See? Funny.”
“I don't remember you laughing back at the zoo,” I say as I wheel around to face her. “You saw what I was, and you ran in fear. I'd say that was the appropriate response.”
“Wait, wait – hold on a second,” Genny says, hands up in the air. “'Appropriate response'? How am I supposed to be afraid of someone who talks like that? Who goes to school and likes cars and reads comics? You're the perfect example of my argument, that Hybrid Reanimates are humans too.” Her hands lower to her hips, and she looks off with a sigh. “Now, granted, I did run away. You have to admit that a revelation like that is pretty startling.”
“But you're not afraid of me now? You're not afraid that I'll...” I pause, uncomfortable with the thought, though my Prisoner embraces it. “...eat you?”
“Eat me?” she chuckles, shaking her head. “You would've already done it by now. Hell, I had you in my room with the door closed.” She looks off again, scratching the back of her head. “So that's why you wanted the door open...”
“See?” I say, taking steps towards her. “Just because I don't eat people doesn't mean that I'm not compelled to. It's something I fight inside myself, everyday. Everything that those Hybrids in that exhibit experience, I experience. I'm just like them.”
“You don't look or act like them,” she says, absently chewing on her thumbnail. “Why are you so different? So smart, and well-spoken and self-controlled? And how do you get your makeup so perfect?”
“Enough with the makeup!” I growl.
“Okay, okay,” she concedes, hands in the air. “But seriously, how do you do it? Live like this, everyday?”
That's a little question that requires a big answer. We sit down and I tell Genny all about my life, about my training and diet and my daily routines. I tell her about my intelligence level and the medication I need to take, about how I buy it from Caesar and that's why I was in Cañon City in the first place. As I explain she starts to connect some of the dots herself, like my altercation with Dalton, and the way those chimpanzees reacted to me.
“No wonder you didn't fr
eak out when my dad told you about me, you're way worse off than I am – no offense. So, does the medication actually work?”
“Yes and no. It helps me resist the symptoms of my condition, but they never completely go away.”
“Symptoms?” she asks.
“Rage, Lust, and Hunger. They're the driving force of my existence, the reason me and others like me are so dangerous. I often visualize the sum of my symptoms as a Prisoner, an evil beast trapped inside a jail within me. He never sleeps, and he's always trying to escape. Does that make any sense?”
“Yeah, I guess.” She looks down at the ground, picking up blades of grass and snapping them into halves. “So, you have to battle these symptoms when you're around humans... what about me?”
“Unfortunately, yes, even you. The Hunger is always in full swing, even if I've just eaten an entire pig carcass. It's never satisfied. Sorry if I have the urge to eat you.” She shrugs, apparently unfazed. “But you don't make me upset, so the Rage isn't really a factor. Maybe on that day when we ran into each other in the halls. I almost destroyed the drinking fountain when you asked what I was looking at, and called me a creep.”
“Oh yeah, I remember that. Sorry.” Her gaze falls again, turning her head to look over her shoulder, though nothing is behind her. “And, what about the Lust?”
“Not an issue,” I say matter-of-factly, and then quickly realize what she was getting at, and how poorly I answered. “But not because you're unattractive, or anything like that. Only because you're technically not a woman.”
“Technically not a woman?” she asks, a certain edge in her voice.
“No, I don't mean it like that,” I groan in frustration. Everything I'm saying is coming out wrong. “My Lust is mostly triggered by the pheromones produced from sexually mature females, ones who have had their first...” I know the word, but the prospect of saying it in front of her makes me uncomfortable, so I omit it. “...their cycle. And you have that hormone therapy stopping you from... having... that. Can we stop talking about this?”
“Yeah, I think you've been tortured enough,” she says with a laugh. “I can't believe how crazy you are to buy that stuff off Caesar. You two are like, mortal enemies or something. I've never been inside his house, but I've heard how bad it is. And I know he has guns in there. How do you survive?
“Drugs,” I say plainly. “The ones I take to restrain myself, and the ones he takes that cloud his judgment. Not to say there haven't been any close calls, though.”
“And how much of that do you have to take?”
“About two every hour. I have to buy it in bulk, and it gets pretty expensive.”
“So, did you run out of money for it?” she asks. “Is that why you were gone the last two weeks?”
“No,” I say bitterly, quite unhappy that this subject has finally arrived. “Gibbs locked me down in my basement as punishment.”
“Punishment?” she asks, confused. “For what?”
“For you. He explicitly forbade me to make friends. He says it's not part of my training, that I'm not ready for it yet. That note you left with my backpack that one night, he read it, and that's when he first warned me to stay away from you. I promised him I would. But when I came back from your house a couple of weeks ago, he overheard your father and I talking about you, about your situation, and he knew I disobeyed him.
“So, he kept me in confinement, and said if it happened again it would be a month. And when he let me out again, my instructions were to ignore you. That's why I was acting the way I did on the bus.”
“I see,” Genny says thoughtfully. “What made you change your mind? I mean, you're here, talking to me – this is obviously a blatant disregard for his rules. Why would you risk that again?”
I haven't conveyed to her how lonely and wretched my life is, about the light and warmth that's missing from it, or why I've put all my faith in her being that for me. I have a hard time telling her that my existence is pointless without her in it. In fact, I think this is the first time I've admitted it to myself so clearly. I don't have the elegant words to express how much I need her, and how worth the risk she is to disobey Gibbs again. I smile timidly, only able to offer simple words. “Because you're my friend.”
She returns the smile. “Yes, I am your friend.”
“Still?” I ask, surprised. “Even after knowing what I am?”
“The word is who, Zaul, not what. Who. And yes, I'm still your friend – especially after knowing who you are. You're not the monster that you believe, and I'm not afraid of you. I can't be afraid of the one person kind enough to be my friend.”
“But what about your father?” I ask, searching for reasons to prove that this is too good to be true. “He works for the APA. I don't think he would approve of his daughter spending time with a Hybrid Reanimate.”
“But don't you see, Zaul? I don't have the time to worry about things like that, about what my father would think or whether our friendship is forbidden. I don't have the time for regrets. I'll be dead soon.”
“Don't say things like that,” I protest.
“It's true. I've spent too many years waiting for a cure that my father promised. I kept telling myself that things will be fixed, that they'll be made all better, and I could start living then. But it looks like that time will never come. I want to start living now. Don't you want to live, too?”
I think about my life, about the last four years, all the training and the preparation, and none of it seems to be leading to anything. And if it is, Gibbs won't tell me to what. Who knows if he ever will? I can't wait that long. By then the Genny sitting before me will be gone, and I'll be by myself again, eating pork remains in the dark, occasionally going above ground to be tortured by my Prisoner's cries as I walk among the living. Not one of them would accept the real me, not like Genny does right now. I can't wait any longer. I want to live, with what little life remains in this atrocious body.
“Yes, I do.”
Chapter 29
The bus lurches to a halt in front of the school, and we all slowly file out onto the sidewalk, my friend close to my side. Being packed in that large yellow vehicle on the way back from the zoo, with all that flesh surrounding me, would've have been much more unbearable, had Genny not been there to offer distraction. We talked the whole time, her eyes often meeting mine as she spoke, smiling, looking at me as if I wasn't the monster she now knows me to be. Like I was fully human.
By this time of day I know that Gordon's Jeep will soon rumble around the corner to take her away from me, until I see her again on Monday. I never thought I'd want a school week to continue into the weekend. I begin to search in my mind for some way, any way, to spend more time with her, but my thoughts are interrupted by Mr. Neal's voice as it perks up right behind us, accompanied by his odor that invades my nose. My Prisoner wakes up again. Back to reality.
“Ms. Grest,” he breathes heavily, apparently exhausted from the short descent down the bus stairs. “Did you and Zaul enjoy the Hybrid Reanimate exhibit today? I trust it was both entertaining and informative.”
Genny's eyes squint tightly, and I don't believe it's from the bright sunlight we stand in. She's ready to unload another brash comment that she always seems to have on hand, but considering how Mr. Neal often views us as one troublemaking entity, we're both likely to be punished for what she's about to say. The last thing I want is news of our relationship getting back to Gibbs, earning me another month in confinement for continued disobedience, so I speak up.
“It was great,” I say, giving Genny a look of warning. “A real eye-opening experience.”
“Good!” Mr. Neal chirps, his sweaty neck fat shaking under his chin, causing a churn in my gut. He raises his voice, now addressing all the students near the bus. “I always enjoy seeing education in action. And, if you paid close attention to what the guide was saying, you shouldn't have a problem with Monday's quiz.” Students begin to groan, but he shakes his head, a hand in the air to stop their protest
. “Don't worry, I'm sure you'll do just fine. I will see you all next week.”
His rotund figure waddles out of sight, and the tightly packed group begins to disperse, letting me feel like I can breath again. Genny spins to me, an eyebrow raised sharply. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” I ask.
“It was great, Mr. Neal. A real eye-opening experience, Mr. Neal,” she says in a mock-tone.
“I didn't sound like that,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “And you're starting to make me feel like I did on that first day we met, if you remember.”
“And I seem to remember what that sick exhibit was really like. I thought you thought the same.”
“I do,” I express in a whisper, looking around as I lead her away from the other students. “But if you really want to be my friend, you gotta learn when to lie. And when to keep your mouth shut.”
The look on her face is one of shock and hurt, and I don't like the feeling it gives me. But this is important. I can't lose my friend, not after I just got her back. Who else would agree to be in my company, knowing what I am? At the moment, our relationship is more precious to me than a live hog, and that's saying a lot.
I take her hand, and hold it in both of mine, looking into her eyes. “I like your passion and your honesty, but always speaking what you feel can get us into trouble. Living the way I do is dangerous, and I have to do it with subtlety, and...” I squint my eyes, searching for the right word. “...conformity.”
Genny looks off into the distance, nervously biting the thumbnail of her free hand, before meeting my gaze again, a concession in her eyes. “I know, I'm sorry. I just...” She runs a fidgety hand through her light blonde hair, which looks almost white in the sunlight. “I have so many things going on inside me, and for so long I kept it all there. But, one day I realized I was running out of time...”
