The Iso-Stasis Experiment (The Experiments)

by Jacqueline Druga

  I-S.E. Twelve - Seal River Complex, Manitoba, Canada

  November 23 - 7:00 A.M.

  His eyes felt extremely heavy when he opened them and lifted his head over Cal’s shoulder to see the clock. Finding it hard to believe he slept that late, Jake slid his hand up Cal’s leg and softly placed his lips to her cheek. His throat felt thick. He cleared it. “Cal . . .” Jake’s voice was raspy. He cleared his throat again. “Cal, come on, get up.” He kissed her one more time as he lifted the covers from his body only. “Cal?” He waited for her signature grunt and knew by that sound she would get up. Swinging his legs over the bed, he planted his feet on the cold floor. As he stood, he felt as if all of his blood rushed to his head. The room moved out of focus. Jake leaned down and put one hand on the bed. He rubbed his eyes, caught his balance and then moved to the bathroom.

  Flicking the light on in the bathroom was the wakeup call for the headache that slumbered in Jake’s head. Piercing pain pressed against his eyes causing him to grip the edge of the sink. Jake turned on the faucet and began to splash his face. He moved through his normal morning routine, but very slowly.

  “All yours,” Jake said to Cal as he walked from the bathroom. She stumbled from the half sleep state she was in, flicking on the already prepared coffee pot and then made her way into the bathroom. Her hair was all over the place. Jake looked around for the clothes that he had taken out the night before. He rubbed his arms as he searched Cal’s dresser. Finally seeing them, he reached down to retrieve them but they seemed to turn into a blur. “Fuck,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes once more.

  He could barely move. His legs felt so heavy; it was if they weren’t a part of his body. It has to be lack of exercise, Jake thought as he began to get dressed, planning in his mind what he could do to remedy that.

  Cal never said anything when she first woke up. Moving from the bathroom to the coffee pot was her normal routine. Next came pouring herself a cup, smelling it and then sipping it. “You want coffee?” she asked.

  “Uh . . . please.”

  Cal grabbed his mug, filled it with coffee and handed it to him. “Morning,” she said reaching up and kissing him. “How’s your arm?”

  “It feels fine.” Jake sniffled and sipped the coffee. “This is cold.”

  “No it’s not. Let me see.” She peered at his arm. “It does look good. It’s not even red.”

  “No . . .” Jake cleared his throat again, looking down at his arm. “It’s not. Cal, are you cold?”

  “Nope.” She set down her coffee and grabbed her shoes. “Is it my turn or your turn for the shotgun?”

  “Um . . .” Jake set his mug down and turned to Cal. She went out of focus. His blinking was pronounced as he looked at her. “Yours,” he said and squinted.

  “Jake, are you all right? You look tired.” She finished lacing her boot and looked at him.

  “I have a headache. But I’m fine.”

  Cal stood up from the bed stepping closer to him. “You look really tired.”

  “I’m fine. Let’s just get up there.”

  “Weapons?” Cal looked around. “You usually have them out.”

  “Sorry.” Jake grabbed the duffle bag.

  “Jake?” Cal laid her hand on his arm. It was warm to the touch. “Jake, stand up.” When he did she felt his neck. “You are really warm.” She looked again at his injured arm. “Are you sure . . .”

  “Cal, please.” Slowly he removed her hand from his neck. “Let’s just go.” He handed her the shotgun, grabbed his coffee and opened the door for her.

  Pausing as she passed by him, Cal took a long look at Jake. His face seemed pale, his eyes darker. Her immediate gut reaction told her it had something to do with the bite, infection possibly. But his arm looked clear. No redness at all. If it was an infection, surely it would be visible there. Without wanting to cause Jake further agitation, Cal walked ahead of him down the hall.

  ^^^^

  “All quiet on the western front.” Cal knelt, looking through Jake’s binoculars. “They’re just sitting in the woods. Maybe we should use Rickie as bait. What do you think? Try your idea, Jake?”

  Leaning with his back against the edging, rifle between his bent up legs, Jake barely turned his head toward her. “Sure.” He tried breathing deeply, trying to shake the headache, the sluggish feeling.

  “I don’t understand.” Cal laid the binoculars down. “I was prepared for a big . . . shit!” she said at the sound of the all too familiar rumble, the rumble that signified what was going to happen. Aiming her gun as the balanced on the ledge, Cal prepared herself for the battle. “Jake!”

  Jolting back from his daze, Jake quickly spun himself from his sitting position and got on his knees. Raising his rifle, the felt the floor start to sway and he began to lose his balance. Hurriedly, without Cal noticing, he caught himself and clicked back the hammer. He could hear Cal fire as his finger began to depress the trigger. The wolves started to scatter, making it harder for him to focus. Shifting his eyes trying to find a target, the grey overcast of the sky seemed to get darker, and quickly everything in Jake’s view began to blacken out. He rubbed his eyes fanatically and his vision returned. Shooting at his target, he merely nipped the wolf’s hind leg.

  “Jake, come on, you’re better than that. Wake up.” Cal fired, taking one out.

  “I’m trying to . . .” Jake’s fingers locked and wouldn’t bend. Quickly he removed them from the gun and stared at his hand until it went out of focus. “Fuck.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Trying to click back the hammer on his gun was impossible. Jake’s hand began to tremble so bad he couldn’t control it. Cal’s voice began to fade in the back of his head. She sounded as if she was calling him from an echo chamber. So faint, so distant. What was happening to him? Jake’s hands weakened and his rifle began to topple. He stopped it and stood up. As he began to rise, Jake felt as if the world around him was slipping from under his feet. Suddenly he saw two Cals, both of them out of focus. And then the pain hit him, sharp, eye watering, daggering straight from his eyes to his ears. Grunting to himself, Jake backed up. He saw Cal stop shooting and turn around. She called to him. She called his name. Why was it so deep and far away?

  With a trembling body, Jake dropped his weapon. His stomach began to knot in fear that he was going to pass out on that roof. Knowing that he was more of a hindrance to the situation than an asset, Jake stepped back. “Keep . . . keep shooting, Cal.” Stepping aimlessly to the hatch, Jake lowered his legs. He slid down the twelve feet barely holding on. The hallway was rippled. Holding on to the wall for support, Jake staggered to Cal’s room. He shut the door behind him and pressed his palms deep into his eye sockets. Attempting again to focus, to stop shaking, Jake raised his eyes. The room began to turn black. Jake reached for the bed, felt for the softness of it and collapsed.

  “Jake . . .” His name slowed from her mouth as Cal threw open the door. “Oh, my God.” Shutting the door, dropping her weapons, Cal fell to her knees beside Jake who was face down half on and half off the bed. “Oh, God, Jake.” Cal laid her hands on his back to roll him over. “You’re burning up.” Using all her strength, she managed to get Jake on his back facing her. His legs dropped all the way and he slid to the floor. Cal struggled to hold him up right. His head fell back over her arm. “Rickie!” She called in a voice loud and desperate. “Jake . . . Jake.” She shook his chin. “Rickie,” Cal mumbled. “I have to do something.”

  “Cal!” Rickie flew into the room pulling on his sweat pants. “What happened to Sarge?”

  “Rickie, he’s sick. He’s really sick. He’s burning up. Go into the bathroom and wet a towel. Hurry . . . and make sure it’s not too cold.” Cal rested him against the bed and lifted his shirt. It was a struggle to even begin to get his arms out. “Jake, wake up.”

  “Here.” Rickie handed her the dripping cloth.

  “Thanks. Help me with him. We have to get him awake and in the shower.” She waited
for Rickie to support Jake and then she pulled off his shirt. “Jake . . .” She wiped off his face and neck. “Jake . . . it’s me.”

  Jake’s eyes opened slightly. “Cal.” His head went back.

  Cal panicked. “Jake, you have to help me help you. Please.” She kept wiping. “Jake . . . Rickie, we have to get him up. We have to get something in him. Anything.”

  “Want me to get John and Carlos?”

  “No!” Cal answered abruptly. “He wouldn’t want anyone to see him like this . . . Jake.”

  Jake parted his eyes slightly lifting his head. He reached his trembling hand out blindly to Cal. “I can’t . . . see you.”

  “I’m right here.” She led his hand to her face. “I’m right here.” As his head began to fall back Cal held it. “Jake, you have to help me. You have to stand up. I can’t carry you. Jake?” She grabbed his chin, shaking his head. “Jake . . .”

  With rolling eyes Jake lifted his head. “I’ll stand.”

  “Good.” Cal smiled, and grabbed his arm. “Rickie, grab his other arm.” She placed her face directly in front of Jake’s. “Listen to me, Jake. On three you have to try to stand. Got that?”

  “Three.” Jake spoke groggily.

  “One . . .”

  “I love . . . I love you.” Jake reached his hand out. His fingers touched her face. They ran weakly from her nose across her lips as his head began to sway.

  Cal clutched his searching hand and brought it to her mouth as a rush of emotions hit her. “Prove it, Jake. Stand up for me. Please.” She kissed him and then nodded her head to Rickie. “One, two, three,” she counted and with a grunt, all of them rose awkwardly to their feet. Jake’s huge body swayed back and forth. He could barely walk.

  Feeling the not-so-steady ground beneath his feet, Jake clung to Cal as if she were his pillar of strength. “Did you doubt me?” he asked weakly.

  “Not for a second.” Cal helped Rickie lead him into the bathroom. “Rickie, turn on the water.”

  “Do you have him?” Rickie asked.

  “I hope.” Cal used the wall for support. “We’re going to have to get him in the stall like this. I’ll worry about his clothes later.”

  Rickie took hold of Jake’s arm. “Cal, how are you going to hold him up in there?”

  “Can you give me a hand?” she asked humbly. “Please.”

  Without a second’s thought, Rickie opened the shower door and helped Cal get Jake inside. It was a good thing for the both of them that even half out of it Jake was able to help out. She and Rickie stood in the lukewarm running water, both of them fully dressed, holding Jake.

  As soon as Jake felt the water, he awakened some, shaking his head as the water hit him. “It’s cold.”

  “No,” Cal stood behind him speaking soothingly, “you’re just fevered. We have to bring it down.” She lifted his right arm placing his hand flush against the wall for support. She looked at Rickie who held on to Jake with everything he had. With one arm wrapped around his waist and the other bracing his shoulder, Cal saw Jake’s head drop forward. She pressed her lips to his back, leaning her head against it. A lump formed in her throat and her eyes misted up because Cal was deathly afraid of what was wrong with him.

  ^^^^

  Using the large pot Rickie had brought for her from the kitchen, Cal sat in the chair next to Jake. So close she sat, feeling his warm breath as he lay sleeping, breathing heavy. She wiped him off almost continuously. Around his face, under his arms, his chest, and behind his neck, over and over, she wiped him, constantly changing the cool water in the pot because it kept getting warm every time she wrung out the cloth. She reached for the glass of water on the night stand; it had its own cloth. She grabbed the rag, dabbed it and brought it gently to his lips, lips that were beginning to blister, and moistened them. Through all her fussing over him, Jake never woke. The only movement that he made was the trembling of his body as his system desperately tried to fight off what was attacking him.

  Rickie knocked only once before he walked in, not wanting to disturb Cal too much. “Cal?” He moved slowly into the room. “I brought you some dinner.” He held a large mug in his hand and set it on the night stand. “You know how the Sarge is about you eating.”

  Cal was already on the verge of tears and Rickie being so thoughtful wasn’t helping her to stay calm. “Thank you, Rickie. I’ll eat it in a little bit.”

  “Oh, here,” Rickie said and handed her what seemed to be a cap to a prescription bottle. “I crushed some aspirin for you. There are two in here. I’ll crush some more in a few hours.”

  Cal looked inside the cap at the white powder. “How am I supposed to give it to him? He’s out Rickie. He’s really out.”

  “OK.” Rickie nervously rubbed his head. “Put it under his tongue with a little water. His reflexes should like cause him to swallow, but if it’s under the tongue, it’ll go through his blood stream faster. And like I have another idea, but you have to promise me you won’t yell a mother type of yell at me for suggesting this.”

  “If it will help Jake, I won’t yell.”

  “See those research people left us supplies. They gave us penicillin. But you can’t get him to take it. What if I crushed that and melted that down? You said he gave himself a rabies shot. Maybe he has another needle and you could inject him with it. I mean, I don’t mind crushing the stuff, or heating it.”

  “Rickie, that’s a great suggestion. Why would I yell at you?” Cal looked at him impressed.

  “Because you might wonder how I know all this stuff.”

  “Well at least now you can say some good came out of your past mistakes. We’re going to get the medication in him he needs. Sit with him.” Cal stood up. “I’m going to check his things for another syringe.”

  “Cal,” Rickie called to her. “What if it’s not an infection? The penicillin won’t work if it’s not.”

  “Why not?” Cal asked as she walked to the bathroom.

  “I learned from my past clinic experience . . .” Rickie whispered away turning away from Jake. “Antibiotics do not rule over viruses. What if he has a virus or something?”

  “He couldn’t have, wouldn’t more of us have it, too? It has to be an infection. I’ll go check his stuff.”

  Cal didn’t know where to begin when she stood before Jake’s so-neat dresser. She opened up the first drawer and found everything was perfectly folded and placed inside. She ran her hand over his green tee shirts that were placed to the right in the drawer. Being careful not to disrupt his things, Cal placed her hand under every item in every drawer that she rummaged through. The syringe was in the next to the last drawer she checked. The drawer contained no clothing, just his emergency pouch and a few other items. “You aren’t kidding you come prepared.” She looked inside the foot long leather-like bag and found the only other syringe. Hating to take the last one, but knowing she had to, Cal laid it on the dresser. As she went to close the drawer, something caught her eye. To the left, set neatly in the corner, were things Cal would have never have guessed he had. Small slips of paper, some folded in fours, some left open, all stacked on top of each other. Slips of paper that had scores from games they had played. Cal smiled when she saw the one that lay on top. Jake must have beaten her in whatever they played, for written across the score rather big, in her handwriting, was ‘Jake is a jerk’. Cal suddenly remembered when she did that. It was early on, before they intimate. But why did Jake keep such things? She even smiled a little when she saw the stick men she had made out of twigs from their city. Stick men having sex. Jake yelled at her and took it from her. But he didn’t throw it away like he told her he would do. A part of Cal was touched. Jake’s claim that he was not sensitive was proved right then and there to be wrong. The slips of paper, the stick men, the label she pulled off her bottle of beer, the condom Jake bought from Rickie just to shut him up when he kept preaching safe sex, he kept them, too, like everything else. Like they were his tiny pieces of a puzzle that would eventually al
l fit together to show the picture of what they had done and become. The things in that drawer showed her another other side of Jake. And she thought she had seen them all. Taking a breath, closing the drawer, Cal took the syringe to Rickie. “Here. Don’t ruin it, it’s the last one.”

  “I won’t.” Rickie gave her back her chair. “I have to go down to the kitchen and get a spoon. Can I borrow your lighter?”

  “It’s on the dresser.” Cal sat down, sliding her chair closer to the bed.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “And Rickie . . . if you run into anyone, please don’t mention, for Jake’s sake, how sick he is. OK?” Waiting for that look that told her he already knew that, Cal grabbed the powdered aspirin that Rickie had made. She had to get Jake to take it. She hoped that maybe it would kick in by the next time she sponged him down.

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  November 23 - 6:30 P.M.

  “Well, how sick is he?” Aldo asked Stan as he spoke with him on the phone pacing around his home office. He stopped to hold up his index finger to his sixteen year old daughter who had poked her head in his door mouthing the words ‘Dad, come on.’

  “We don’t know, Aldo,” Stan answered.

  “You don’t know?” Aldo’s raised his voice. His annoyance grew worse when Alison poked her head in again whining her father’s name. “Hold on Stan . . . Allie, I’ll be with you in one minute. Shut the door.” Slam! “Sorry Stan, that was my kid. Anyway, what’s this shit, you don’t know how Graison is?”

  “Aldo, we watched him collapse and Cal came in. She and Rickie took him into the bathroom. When she brought him out, she blocked out the smoke alarm. We can’t see anything in that room.”

  “Can you hear?”

  “Nope, she covered it with something. Everything’s muffled.”

  “Damn it.” Aldo grabbed his cigarettes and lit one. He could hear his daughter stomping her heeled feet up and down the marble floor outside his office. “Keep me posted on Rickie’s demeanor. That should tell us something.”