TAGGED: THE APOCALYPSE
BY
JOSEPH M CHIRON
St John from the book of The Revelation
“He also forced everyone, small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on his right hand or on his forehead, so that no one could buy or sell unless he had the mark.”
FICTIONAL CHARACTERS STATEMENT
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously; any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or undead is entirely coincidental.
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
CHAPTER 1: September 10, 10 a.m.
PARADISE ISLAND, NASSAU, BAHAMAS.
“The universal tagging program of all adults over the age of 21 has begun in earnest today on all seven world continents and in every major city on the planet. The tagging program officially begun today is expected to be 97% complete within five years according to current estimates.” The male newscaster spoke with a British accent and smiled reflexively after finishing the sentence. Splashed on the screen were images of people of every color and nation smiling, chatting and laughing, waiting in long lines for their tag. Marvin Jones recognized some of the buildings when they splashed a local feed of the white government building in the center of town. “The tag is a simple computer chip about 1/16th the size of a normal grain of rice. It is to be implanted quickly and painlessly into the right hand or onto the forehead of the recipient.”
“You’re the friggin’ mafia. That’s what you are. All the guns; All the power; You can do whatever you want and we just have to take it. Is that it?” Marvin waved his half-empty glass of rum and coke at the television, spilling some on the rug. “Honey,” Marvin called toward the shower which had just turned off, “You need to come and see this. This is just…incredible.”
“I’ll be right out.” Samantha Jones called from behind the closed door of the bathroom.
Splashed onto the screen were compliant and smiling shots of people receiving their tag from a large hand-held device that looked a lot like a white staple gun wielded by pleasant and efficient men and women wearing white medical jackets. A mother comforted a young boy who was crying and rubbing his right hand. “Tagging for minors under the age of twenty one is completely voluntary at this time. However, many are choosing to beat the rush when mandatory tagging for all becomes law in ninety days.”
“What is the world coming to? I never thought I would live to see this.” Marvin shook his head sadly and perched unsteadily on the edge of the hotel bed. He leaned into the television set to give it a piece of his mind. “That’s my money. I earned that money. You can’t have it.”
“Oh, I think you’re overreacting, darling,” Samantha cooed, stepping out of the shower into the air-conditioned hotel room in a cloud of steam. She was completely nude, which in the fifteen years they had been married, was about as rare as a speckled unicorn sighting. She was always covered by something at least partially at all times, especially since she had turned the clock over past forty. But not today. Marvin paused and enjoyed the rare, unobstructed view, instantly feeling more sober. He placed his rum and coke on the nightstand and sat up a little straighter. Samantha was a fine looking woman. Marvin hadn’t married her for her looks, but that never hurt. His eyes roamed her body, lingering in Brazil upon the excellent bikini waxing she had just had done for the trip.
“You look great darling,” he said, as she grabbed his head with both her hands pulling him into her cleavage, and then gave him a long kiss.
“You smell like liquor.” She wrinkled her little nose disapprovingly.
“I just had one,” he lied. Marvin pushed her back out to arms length to look at her. She stepped back, turned one knee in demurely, placed her fists on her bare hips and turned this way and that so he could get a better look. “I mean, all of you. You really look great!” Marvin willed himself to sober up. Sam hated it when he got drunk, but they were on this tiny island, stuck in this hotel room during the day. What else was there to do?“I know, right!” She beamed happily.
“They said there might be some side effects to the procedure, but I was expecting something more like nausea and vomiting…not this.”
“Well, they said this is the new and improved sequencing,” she joked. “I feel fantastic, and I just weighed myself and I’ve lost seven pounds in two days!” Samantha held out her hands. “And look at my fingernails. They’re growing like crazy, and stronger too.” She tapped them on the edge of the TV table.
“You’re hair looks great, too. Did you do anything to it? Mousse it or something?”
“No. I think my hair is thicker too. I woke up this morning and there’s just more of it. And practically nothing came out in the shower, either.” She leaned toward him offering the top of her head, which he obligingly ran his fingers through. She turned her back to him and rested against his legs, her signal for a head massage. He automatically began massaging her head and she moaned in pleasure, encouraging him to continue. His hot naked wife, looking hotter than she had in the last ten years, was pressed against him and instead of plowing his garden this fine Caribbean morning, he’s giving the obligatory five to ten minute head massage to warm her up. He continued to massage her head with his left hand, while his right went impatiently down over her bare shoulder to play with her breast and her nipple. She leaned back into him, enjoying the attention.
Coming to the Bahamas for this not yet FDA-approved face lift procedure had turned out to be a very good decision, Marvin mused. They got to sit on the beach for a day before the procedure. He opened the first of what he expected to become many private overseas trust accounts designed to protect private wealth from the coming over-regulation heralded by the “universal tagging program”. And Samantha was happy. Marvin hadn’t seen her this happy or beautiful in years. This made him happy. Samantha threw her hands up to stroke his forearms encouragingly and leaned back into him, offering him the all access pass. She pretended surprise at his growing hardness on her neck and spun around to crouch between the legs that a moment before had wrapped her small shoulders in their loving embrace. She smiled mischievously as one hand went to his shorts and began massaging him. “My strong man,” she said, and gave him a loud theatrical smooch on his shorts between his legs, then looked up at him with innocent school girl eyes. Her long hair fell all around her lovely face. She looked ten years younger, Marvin thought, as he kissed the crown of her head and stroked her cheeks. She surfaced for a long and passionate kiss on the lips, her naked body melting deliciously into his, her small hand continuing its important work, now snaking down inside his pants.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were ready to go again, Mr. Jones.” Samantha unzipped his shorts and pulled them down to his ankles.
“We’re like teenagers.”
“Is that what you want? Do you want me to put on my cheerleader outfit?” She cocked her head and laughed. “I brought it with me you know.”
“You’re cheerleader outfit?” She really thought of everything. He loved the cheerleader outfit.
“Yeah,” She kissed him in a rush. She jumped over to the luggage a few feet away and hastily slipped on a short tartan skirt over her naked torso, glancing over her shoulder as she did. Marvin laughed in delight, worrying a little about his performance, since he had been drinking. He wasn’t 19 years old
anymore. She seemed to sense his thoughts.She rushed back to him, wearing only the tartan skirt, grabbed his penis in her hand, gave it a few licks and then a long and powerful suck. Satisfied that all was still going well, she jumped to her feet with the vigor of a school girl. “Give me a “B”!” She formed her arms and legs into a “B”.
“B!” Marvin laughed.
“Give me an “A”!
“A!”
“Give me an “H!” With each letter Samantha jumped and formed a new letter with her now leaner body. The skirt jumped around mesmerizing him. Her now younger, firmer breasts bounced and her bottle blond hair fell around her face.
“H!”
“What does it spell?” She pushed him back onto the bedspread and straddled him.
“Bah? I have no idea!” He cried.
“I was going to spell Bahamas but it’s just too looong. I could spell Paradise Island. Give me a P.” She jokingly thrust out a small fist half-heartedly, lying down on top of him. There was a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead as he kissed her and rolled her onto the bottom. Nose to nose, she watched his eyes as she guided him in with her hand. She closed her eyes and sighed. He could feel her body relax under him as they joined. The smell of her sweat and her musk was intoxicating. She was wetter than usual. He kissed her long on the mouth, then posted up on his hands to begin his work.
“My garden; my love,” he said. Married for fifteen years and two children, he knew her well. He knew her moods and he could even predict her thoughts, but she was different today- thinner, more energy and bigger hair. It felt like the procedure had actually reversed the aging process for her. Perhaps he would have the procedure done as well, he thought.
He rolled himself onto the bottom and she leaned back, sitting on him, bouncing rhythmically, and balancing herself with one hand on his chest. She leaned over and tickled his face and chest with her long hair.
The procedure, not yet approved in the United States or in Europe, was a form of stem cell therapy. It was simple really. Samantha sent them by mail a sample of DNA- just some nail clippings, a small skin sample and a bit of fat extracted from her thighs through her dermatologist. The scientists sequenced it, isolated the genes that caused aging and effectively turned back on the gene that caused regeneration at the cellular levels. Ten days later, they flew outside of the USA (the Bahamas had become a big destination for this procedure but all the Caribbean islands had now caught the smell of big money) and doctors injected Samantha with her own improved cells. Just like Botox really. A couple of injections around the eyes and mouth and the stem cells did the rest.
He sat up from the bottom, embraced her, kissing her mouth and her neck, still strong inside her. She continued to bounce hungrily as he kissed her. She was very hot now and beads of sweat had broken out on her lower back. She whined and moaned quietly and urgently like a puppy as she bounced. He turned her around and leaned her over the bed. She stood on her tip toes and watched his face as he entered her from behind, doggy style.
Marvin had been against the procedure initially. Too risky, he said. You don’t know what could happen. But Samantha was insistent and other women in their wealthy Los Altos enclave of northern California were doing it and had seemed to suffer no ill effects. In fact, some of them looked fantastic! And with the tagging program passing Congress it dawned on him that this was the perfect excuse to fly out of the country and begin protecting their substantial assets.
One of the main drawbacks was that the doctors were very strict about the patient staying out of the sun for at least seventy two hours, which on a tropical island was not the easiest thing to do. So after the procedure they were pretty much trapped in the hotel room until the sun went down, which frankly was not turning out so bad.
He held tight to her soft hips and thrust into her as hard as he could as they both built to a crescendo of pleasure. Their bodies made loud slapping sounds as their sweat and bodies mingled. Samantha moaned and whined and squealed louder and louder. Sam was a screamer and he loved it. Her enjoyment of the moment increased his own pleasure. It hadn’t been this good in a while. He would probably grab a pack of cigarettes for them afterward or have room service bring up some chocolate Sunday’s.. She gasped and shuddered in his hands and exhaled loudly, grabbing his butt cheeks and pulling him into her. She arched her back as he let go. She clenched tight around him as his body shuddered and rocked. It seemed to go on forever. His head spun and he experienced momentary vertigo. They fell on the bed sweating and exhausted. She molded herself around his body and gave him wet kisses. His mouth and lips tingled, the tips of his fingers too. He felt like laughing.
Samantha snuggled into his neck and traced random shapes on his chest and thighs with her nails. “I love you, Mr. Jones.”
CHAPTER 2: September 11, Midnight
LOS ALTOS, NORTHERN CALIFORNIA
The sound that woke him was very much like a bed sheet tearing.
They arrived back home from the Bahamas at 8:30 p.m., too late to go to the doctors. Marvin had switched their flight, shortening their trip by two days. He had made an emergency appointment with their internist, first thing in the morning. He was an excellent physician and Marvin was certain he would know what to do. Marvin jumped out of the small twin bed in the guest room, where he had been sleeping. Samantha was in the master bedroom.
He first noticed it on the plane ride. There was an odor about her and it was becoming more pronounced with each passing hour. It was like the smell of rotting meat. He shook his head vigorously to remove the olfactory memory, but it was still there and stronger than ever.
The sound of the bed sheet tearing again jarred him and he knew it wasn’t a dream. He heard footsteps and then, “Oh my God! Daddy!” It was his seventeen year old daughter Quincy in the hall. Thank heaven his younger child Dan had stayed an extra night with his friend. He didn’t want him to see his mother like this. No sense in scaring the boy unnecessarily. Marvin took a deep breath and flung open the door.
There on the floor in the hall was a nude skeleton with the hair and skin still attached. For a moment, he didn’t even recognize his wife Samantha. How could this disease progress so fast? They should have gone straight to the emergency room. He was going to sue the bastards who had done this! “What’s happening, Dad? What’s wrong with Mom?” Quincy looked at him with terror in her eyes. Marvin realized this was the first she had seen of her mom since they had arrived home.
“Call 911, Baby. Go. Now!” Most of all Marvin just wanted to get her out of the hallway and doing something else.
Black vomit came gushing out Samantha’s mouth, adding to the puddle already on the floor. Samantha was covered in a sheen of sweat, crouched on all fours on the wooden hallway floor, like an animal. Her thick yellow fingernails made deep scratches in the wood as her body convulsed with each new expulsion of the black vomit. Her hair was long and thick and full; thicker and fuller than he had ever seen it. It reminded him of a lion’s mane. Her skin was a sickly pale grey with disturbing red boils the size of grapefruit and weeping puss-filled black blotches where others had burst. Spider webs of blue veins were visible under the skin all over her body.
“Quincy called the ambulance. They’re coming.” Samantha’s back was like an oven where he touched it to comfort her. She stared straight ahead with unfocused eyes. She didn’t react to him when he touched her or acknowledge his presence in any way. The smell of death and sweat and vomit was overpowering. Marvin ran and yanked the sheet off the bed in the spare room, covering his mouth to prevent himself from vomiting. He threw the sheet over her naked body crouched on the floor. She turned her head to look at him then, and he couldn’t tell if she was trying to smile or if she was snarling at him. Her teeth looked huge, like they were too big for her face and shrunken, emaciated body.
“Daddy, what’s wrong with Mom? Why does she look like that?” Quincy stood in her bedroom doorway with her iphone.
“Did you call 911?”
�
�Yes.”
“Go out front and wait for them. Make sure they can get in.” Quincy blinked back tears as she stared at her Dad. She couldn’t look at the naked beast under the sheet in the hall. She stood there crying, arms crossed over her chest in her oversized night shirt, overwhelmed. “Go wait out front, honey.”
“Samantha. Samantha. Samantha.’ Samantha lifted her head the third time he called her name and looked in his direction, but she seemed to look right through him with unfocused eyes. “The ambulance is coming. I need you to hang in there.” Marvin forced himself to smile through the smell of death, the vomit, and most of all her hideous appearance. She seemed to see him then and her eyes locked onto his. She coiled and sprang on top of him like a lion. Marvin clenched his eyes shut, screamed and thrashed in terror. Her weight crushed him like a two ton pickup. He couldn’t breath. His heart skipped several beats, then hammered like a thing possessed. There was a pain in his left arm like it was being ripped off.
Blackness.
“He’s waking up. Mr. Jones can you hear me? Mr. Jones you’ve had a heart attack.” Marvin was inside an ambulance. An EMT in a bright orange shirt was speaking loudly to him and shining a light into his eyes to check pupil dilation. His shirt was off and he was hooked to a heart monitor.
“My wife…” Marvin tried to speak, but his voice came out as only a harsh whisper. He noted that all his limbs were still attached.
The EMT just looked at him. Outside the ambulance beyond his feet, he could hear Quincy crying. He lifted his head. She was crouched over someone beneath a sheet. “Don’t move Mr. Jones. You’ve just suffered a heart attack.” The EMT pushed Marvin back down onto the cot with his hand.
“But she’s not dead! DO SOMETHING!” He could hear Quincy screaming hysterically at the EMT standing between her and the covered body on the rolling cot.
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