by GJ Fortier
Turning, he faced Don and Greg as Jimmy announced, “The time is now four p.m. and SIS has reported that the clone's expected completion time remains twelve forty-three and twenty-four seconds. The clone is now ninety-four point three percent complete.”
Greg and Don had been watching the professor. They were all physically exhausted, having slept little during the week, but Jimmy's announcement raised their energy level considerably.
“It won't be long now,” Greg said, his excitement causing a wide smile.
Yeoum wasn't listening. He was looking at Don. Of all of his team, Don was the one the professor had the most affection for. He was the one whose brilliant thinking had gotten the program, which had come to a complete halt, back on track nearly two years before. He extended his hand. “It is a bit early to be congratulating ourselves, gentlemen. However, it does appear that, thus far, our work has been successful.”
Don grasped the older man's hand. “It ain't over till the fat lady sings,” he said. But, I hear her clearin' her throat!”
“Professor, how much time do you think it will take to evacuate its lungs and initiate breathing after the umbilical cord separates?” Greg asked.
Yeoum smiled. “Why, Doctor Mathers, you surprise me. I should think a former lifeguard could answer that question.”
The major shifted uncomfortably. It hadn't really been a serious question, but just an attempt at joining in their conversation. He started to respond, but the professor cut him off.
“Relax, Major. Everything is going just as it should. And, I have made a decision.”
Greg eyed the diminutive man warily. “Decision? About what?”
“It is no longer appropriate to call our new friend it.” Yeoum looked past Greg as he studied one of the computer monitors. “In the past, I have allowed other members of the team to name the new creation. In this case, I will name him myself.”
“Have you decided on a name, Professor?” Don asked.
“In honor of our donor, I will name him Orson. The commander’s middle name.”
“I like it,” Greg said.
Don nodded his approval.
“Also,” Yeoum continued. “Although your time with my team has been short, Major, I have decided that I will allow you to write the book on the work that has been done here.”
Don slapped Greg on the back. “Congratulations, man!”
Greg was taken aback. He found the “honor” of being allowed to write what would amount to a cloning textbook a bit underwhelming. It was a book that only a very select group of people would be allowed to read.
“Wow,” was all he could think to say.
* * * * *
JUNE STOPPED BY TO check on the chimps before heading to the parlor where she would wait with Rob until the time came to wake the clone. Finding them asleep, she started to leave but found herself compelled to look in the corner of Brad and Angelina’s paddock. There, she found a small disturbed area. Moving the brush away, she was perplexed to find a pile of pens. She counted them. “Twenty-seven,” she said softly.
“That is just too weird,” she said out loud before heading to the parlor.
* * * * *
ROB WAS SITTING IN the parlor trying hard to focus on the television as June lay curled up napping on a nearby loveseat. Everyone else had retired hours before, each leaving instructions to be awakened before the clone was. An ominous feeling had been steadily growing in Rob's consciousness as strange noises inside his head threatened to reach their crescendo. The shortness of breath had returned with a vengeance. His knuckles were white as he gripped the leather-clad arms of the chair he sat in. He was having a great deal of difficulty containing an explosion of emotions as he felt like he was being pulled apart. His Bible was in his lap, open to the book of James, but he was unable to concentrate enough to read the familiar text. He was gripped by confusion and fear. I must be having an anxiety attack! It seemed an impossible concept, but he had no other explanation. He considered waking June, but refused to submit to his own weakness. Oh my God! Please help me! Jesus, please help me! He started to hyperventilate, only vaguely aware of the sound of leather ripping from the chair, as the seams of the arms gave way. His Bible hit the floor as he rose to his feet searching the room desperately, but for what? He didn't know. His eyes came to rest on a clock somewhere in the room, the red numbers of its digital display stabbing at his eyes.
It was 12:43.
19 Storms
ORSON’S UMBILICAL CORD separated as expected, and the team completed the process of draining the nursery at precisely 12:43 a.m. Greg and Don stood ready to dismantle the tank in order to remove the clone. A gurney stood ready to receive him, and they had a set of scrubs ready for him to wear.
With the chimps, it had taken an hour after removal for the subject to become fully awake. Yeoum and Don were expecting another uneventful transition. Greg, on the other hand, hadn’t been present when Brad and Angelina were born. An occasional unsolicited grin betrayed his excitement as he forced himself to treat the situation as he would any medical emergency.
“Quickly, gentlemen,” Yeoum said, masking his own enthusiasm as the other two went to work. The panels came off quickly. All seemed normal. Then, suddenly, something completely unexpected happened as they attempted to lift his slippery body onto the gurney. Orson began to convulse.
“What's happening?” Yeoum shouted from the outer room. But Greg and Don were too intent on their patient to respond. “What’s happening?” Yeoum demanded again, rushing into the chamber.
“I think he's choking!” Greg grabbed Orson by the shoulders to turn him on his side as Don threw a towel over him.
“Is this normal? Did we bring him out too quickly?” Greg shouted without thinking, not hearing the others’ confused exchange.
Anger flashed in the Korean. For an instant Yeoum considered berating the younger man, but he quickly dismissed the idea. There was much more serious and immediate work to be done.
The convulsing continued as the three men used all of their combined strength to keep him from falling to the floor. Orson vomited fluid from his newly formed lungs, took a chest-rattling breath, and began to sputter and cough. His eyes were open wide, revealing fear and confusion. He began to tremble violently as Don threw more towels over him. The professor took hold of his head, forcing the clone to lock eyes with him. He was spat on for his trouble. Yeoum took it in stride as he searched for some sign of recognition in those eyes that were seeing for the very first time.
The fluid combined with the brightness of the outer room made Orson squint as he tried to focus on the form in front of him. Yeoum could see that he was trying to speak, but only one word escaped his lips in a rasping whisper.
“Carol?”
* * * * *
ROB CONTINUED HIS aimless pacing, his Bible forgotten. What's happening to me? There was an explosion of pain in his chest and he gagged uncontrollably. Am I having a heart attack? His chest and lungs burned, and then there was a stabbing pain in his head. He feared his skull might burst. Clutching at his chest with one hand and his head with the other, he staggered to the kitchen and felt the coolness of the floor on his bare feet. Sweat poured down his face as he gasped for each breath and began to quake wildly. Then came a sense of serenity, the feeling of weightlessness. The air around him seemed as thick as maple syrup. And then, cold. Colder than he had ever been. He began to shake even more violently. He lost his footing, but felt hands supporting him. As if from far away, he heard a voice.
Carol?
Somehow he found the sink, but his hands were shaking so violently that he couldn’t get water to flow. His body was wracked with the pain of a thousand knives as he tried to steady himself. A bowl half full of stale popcorn hit the floor as he groped around for something to help him maintain his balance. He grasped desperately for a pot hanging from the frame above the food prep island, but it was unable to support his weight. One of th
e fittings in the ceiling came free, sending pans and utensils to the floor with a loud crash!
June nearly fell off of the loveseat at the sound. She rolled to her feet and tried to focus on the source of the racket. Finally, she saw Rob writhing on the floor.
Oh, God help me! She ran. “Rob! Rob, honey! What's wrong?”
His entire body was quaking violently. June thought he must have been having a seizure. She found a wooden spoon and forced it between his teeth, taking care not to get bitten. His skin was glistening with perspiration and his body shook furiously. Looking into his eyes, she found them wide in confused desperation. “Carol?” he mumbled as the spoon fell to his chest.
“No, sweetie, it's June.”
“Carol?” He asked again.
“Rob! Can you hear me?” she yelled. Tears streamed down her cheeks, as he showed no sense of recognition. “Stay right here,” she said, standing. “Don’t move.” She sprinted out the door and down the hall screaming, “Help! Juan! Agent Perez! Somebody help!”
* * * * *
ORSON SHUT HIS EYES tightly, trying to sort out the sounds around him. Even though his eyes were shut, he could see vividly. He was staring up at the ceiling, but his equilibrium was telling him that he was lying on his side. He was soaking wet, and yet parched. He tried to make sense of his situation. He could tell that his ears and nose were stopped up, which forced him to breathe through his mouth. And yet, he smelled popcorn. He turned his head but was unable to change his view. His eyes began to ache from the strain even though they were still tightly closed. When he opened them, his vision immediately blurred. He could vaguely make out three shadowy forms moving around him, overlaid on the ceiling. There was a distant voice.
“Can you hear me?” Yeoum asked.
“I can hear,” he said. “Who—”
“You're alright. Calm down.”
Orson focused on the image of an Asian man, but it was a shadowy image at best, superimposed over the ceiling. He closed his eyes again. “Professor?”
“Holy crap!” Greg exclaimed. “He knows the professor. He has memories.”
“It's alright. You're among friends,” Yeoum said.
“Friends,” Orson repeated.
“Yes. We're your friends,” Yeoum reassured him.
“June?” Orson asked.
“No. Doctor Phillips isn't here. Would you like us to get her?”
“June, what's happening?” Orson asked, ignoring the Korean.
* * * * *
JUNE LED TIONG AND Eddie into the kitchen. They heard Rob talking, but the only word June could make out was “friends.”
“Yes, Rob. We're here,” June said, thankful that he had stopped quaking.
“June?”
“Yes, Rob?”
“June, what's happening?”
“You fell. Juan and Eddie are here,” she said, placing a pillow beneath his head.
“What happened, Rob?” Tiong asked.
“I don't know.” His eyes fluttered. “Don? Greg?”
Tiong gave him a confused look. “They're not here, buddy. They're in the lab.”
Suddenly, a horrified look erupted on Rob's face. Placing his clenched fists over his ears, he screamed desperately, “What's happening to me?”
* * * * *
“WHAT’S HAPPENING TO me?” Orson screamed and then he slumped, unconscious.
“No!” Yeoum screamed.
Greg checked for a pulse. “He's alive.”
Yeoum wasn’t listening. He slammed his fist into the floor. “Decades of work. My life's work!”
Don grabbed the professor and stood him up. “It's okay. He's okay. He's alive.”
But the diminutive man didn't hear him. He was selfishly thinking of his own predicament. What will they say? Will they let me continue my work? Will they continue the funding? Had this all been for nothing?
Don spun Yeoum around. He gently but firmly pushed him against the wall, holding him there. “Professor!”
The Korean’s eyes burned with rage. He balled his fists, preparing to strike. He kicked at his assistant’s prosthetic leg in rage.
“Professor,” Don said more urgently, still holding him against the wall.
Slowly Yeoum allowed the words to sink in. He regained his composure.
Don smiled at the professor. “It's alright.”
“Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves, shall we?” Greg was rolling Orson's limp form on to his back. “I could use a hand, guys.”
“What happened?” Don asked.
Greg gave him an incredulous look, “You're kidding, right?”
“Okay, what do you think happened?”
“Well,” Greg started, “I'm pretty sure he passed out.”
Don frowned and started to speak again, but Greg continued. “Can you help me get him on the gurney?”
* * * * *
JO TURNER AND GERI Hughes joined Benny and the others in the security office.
“Back that one up a few seconds,” Benny ordered. They stared at the central screen, watching as the image of the nursery reversed and then started to play. Yeoum, Greg and the major were supporting the clone's convulsing form. They heard the clone say, “I don't know. Don? Greg?”
“Right here,” Greg replied.
“What's happening to me?” the clone screamed and then collapsed.
“What happened?” Jo asked.
Ignoring her, Benny instructed, “Now back the other one up to the same time index.”
The airman complied. On another screen monitoring the kitchen, June, Tiong, and Eddie were kneeling around Rob.
“What happened, buddy?” Tiong asked.
“I don't know. Don? Greg?”
“They're not here, buddy. They're in the lab.”
“What's happening to me?” Rob screamed and then collapsed into their arms.
“What happened?” Jo demanded, drawing a piercing stare from Benny.
“One helluva cluster fu—” He cut himself off.
Jo backed down a rung. “Well, are they alright?”
“I don't know.” Benny stabbed the intercom button with his middle finger. “Perez, professor, are your situations under control?” His eyes switched back and forth between the screens.
“For the moment,” Yeoum answered.
Eddie and Tiong moved Rob's wilted form to one of the loveseats as June followed. Eddie stared at the speaker in the ceiling. “I have no idea.”
“I need the two of you in the store room, ASAP!” Benny barked. It was no request.
As Benny left, Jo asked, “Could somebody please tell me what's going on?” She was ignored again.
“Back them up again, Airman,” Covington ordered.
Jo found Geri’s questioning stare, but the young agent simply shrugged.
* * * * *
EDDIE WAS ALREADY there when Yeoum and the captain entered the storeroom. Benny hadn’t taken the time to change into scrubs, which, under different circumstances, would have drawn an angry response. But Yeoum held he his tongue.
Benny was glaring at the professor. “Can you explain what happened in there?”
Yeoum took up his typical defiant stance. “A setback.”
Eddie shot the little man a surprised, frustrated look.
“A setback!” Benny repeated angrily. “Professor, that setback in there is my friend.”
Yeoum scoffed at the comment, being completely unaware of Rob’s condition. “Come now, Captain.”
Benny turned his attention to Eddie. “What about you?”
“Like I said, I have no idea. Doctor Phillips was with the commander in the kitchen when it happened.”
“When what happened?” Yeoum asked in both annoyance and confusion.
Ignoring him, Benny continued with Eddie. “What we saw in security was …” He was at a loss for words.
“What did you see?” Yeoum demanded.
>
Benny shot the Korean an accusing look. “We saw Rob and that thing that you made in there freakin’ out, convulsing, saying exactly same thing, at exactly same time, and then they both …” He paused. In his haste, Benny failed to inquire whether his friend was alive or not. “Well, I assume that they both passed out.”
“Both?” Eddie and Yeoum asked in unison.
Benny yelled at the intercom. “Security, patch me through to the parlor.”
“Go ahead, Captain.”
“Doctor Tiong, what is the condition of Commander Tyler?”
* * * * *
IN THE LIVING ROOM area, June and Tiong had been joined by Cal Warren.
“He's alive, but unconscious, covered in perspiration, but doesn't seem to be feverish,” Tiong answered. Glancing over at Cal, he added, “Honestly, sir, I have no idea. We called Doctor Mathers, but he hasn't responded.”
* * * * *
BENNY STABBED A finger at Yeoum in an unspoken order. “I'm afraid the major is otherwise occupied, Doctor. I'm sending the professor to you now. Get the commander ready to move.”
“Where are we moving him, Captain?” June asked.
“Out,” Benny replied.
* * * * *
COVINGTON HIT THE intercom button. “Captain, you're not thinking of moving them out of the complex?”
“Get off the line and put me through to the lab, Sergeant!” Benny barked.
The airmen made the connection without regard to Covington. “Go ahead.”
“Major, what is the condition of your … patient?”
“He's alive, but unconscious. I don't know what happened,” Greg stammered. “I really need to get him to a hospital, Captain. I don't have the equipment—”
