The Shapeshifter Chronicles

by Peralta, Samuel

  The whole setup was way over Jack's head, but to say he was not intrigued in the slightest would be an outright lie. He'd seen all manner of things being processed in the printer, but nothing could have prepared him for the bleached, man-sized skeleton crunched up in a ball, one arm frozen and stretched out, touching the inside of the plexiglass bubble. Jack flushed. Hot sweat beaded on his brow. Watkins' bones still wore the security guard's outfit. Now quite loosely.

  Panic reared its ugly head. Bile rose rapidly.

  Jack's mind was reeling. How could this even happen? Don't touch anything. Call 911, you fool. Get it together. Making one final sweep though the lab, Jack was content at least with what he’d turned off. Forgetting the steam, which should have cycled by now, he touched the light switch, plunging the lab into darkness. He turned to exit the lab and found himself nose to nose with his wife.

  "Genny, what the hell? You scared me half to death," Jack said, recoiling, hand on his chest. "What are you doing here?" The question went unanswered, and all he got was a blank stare from his wife, who slightly cocked her head to the left, like a dog trying to figure out what he was saying.

  “Genny?”

  No answer.

  "I don't have time for this. I'm ninety-nine percent sure that weirdo guard Watkins is kaput back there in the bio-printer." Jack pointed over his shoulder and brushed his way passed Genny.

  "Oh, he's quite dead."

  The strange response clicked.

  "Wait, what?" Jack stopped, looking at Genny, trying to comprehend what she’d just said.

  "How do you think I got here, Jack?"

  "I'd imagine by car. What kind of game are you playing?” Internal heat was flaring. Jack reached up and pinched his forehead, squeezing the flesh between finger and thumb in an attempt to quell his mounting anger. "Look, Genn, I don't know what you're up to, but you're not acting like you. Why are you here? Never mind … later … I have to call the cops." Jack walked off, irritation and worry flip-flopping in his head.

  "Don't you want to play with me?" Genny's voice came from behind.

  Jack picked up the pace. "It's time to go, Genny. Enough already. Your lame joke has worn out its welcome.” He continued on his warpath to the security phone.

  This night keeps getting weirder. Never seen Genny act like this. Not even close. She’s the last one I’d ever expect to joke around. It’s not like her. A red flag flew, flapping inside Jack's troubled head. What if … no. Stay focused. You're tired. Need to stop reading before bed.

  Jack made the executive decision not to take the elevators this time. With all the strange crap circling tonight, it'd be my luck to spend the rest of the night in an elevator that decided not to reopen. Descending the stairs instead, Jack took in a panoramic view of the atrium. No Genny. Oh, come on.

  “GENN?” he called.

  Silence.

  As Jack's feet hit the tile the facility went black. His eyes were swimming with fading auras, trying to adjust. The intercom barked to life, "I'm hiding, come find me, Jack." She'd gone off the deep end. Only answer. Closing in on the final straw, Jack had just about had enough.

  “Screw this, and screw your nonsense game, Genny. I'm out, this is too much,” he said. "As soon as I’ve dealt with the police I'm leaving, Genny. I don't know what's gotten into you, but I'm tired." Maybe she'd hear. Jack walked over to the security desk and grabbed the phone off the base.

  No dial tone. "Phones too?" Jack's patience was at its pinnacle. He reached into his pocket to pull out his personal phone. No signal. "Come the hell on!" Enough's enough.

  "Genny! This is it … last time … "

  Stuffing his phone back in his pocket, Jack spun around. Time to leave. The absurdity of it all had gone on long enough. Jack was even beginning to question whether he'd even seen the skeleton, or Genny for that matter. He'd started taking those new anti-anxiety meds last week. Maybe fatigue mixed with the pills had him sideways.

  As he reached for the front door handle he heard a childish giggling behind him, panning from left to right. Footsteps tapping. Jack reluctantly glanced around. Nothing.

  I'm losing my mind.

  A hand on the door and a sure tug bore a disheartening response. The door wouldn't budge. A tug on the adjoining door left Jack with the same result. Panic kicked down the last traces of rationality and stomped in. Jack grabbed frantically for the other two entrance doors. A loud rattling, aluminum on aluminum, echoed though out the building.

  The giggling again.

  This time it stopped abruptly, and Jack spun around to see his wife in the midst of a crash course with the ground. Legs outstretched, arms flailing.

  WHAM! The side of her face collided with the steel railing. A gut-wrenching crunch sped the scene back up, hauling reality back to the present. Jack swallowed. Genny. All the suspicion flew the coop.

  "Genn!" Dark blood was pooling around her head as Jack slid to a stop beside her on his hands and knees.

  "Baby…"

  Cupping her head and moving it as gently as he could, he saw half of her face still on the tile. Hands covered in blood, Jack was shaking, trying to make sense of it all.

  The blood and chunks of flesh and bone shifted. Jack blinked back tears. They shifted again. Jack dropped her head and pounced back in horror. Genny lifted herself up to her hands and knees and turned her head. Staring, she smiled. A crooked but painless smile. The blood and fragments of her face stirred and leapt from the tile like a tornado of gore, melding with the exposed wound, stitching itself back together right before Jack's eyes. That was it, the final straw. Jack backpedaled to his feet and ran back to the front doors. Trying each of them again, hoping for an out. The doors rattled; all were still magnetically locked.

  The back door.

  The vivarium. The only other exit from the building. Rat town.

  Jack hightailed it, feet slipping on the smooth floor. He regained his balance and was off like a rocket. Dread accelerating the pace. Down the receiving hallway, bursting through fire doors without a glance back, Jack skidded to a stop in front of the vivarium. Staring at the airlock—the sanitary barrier between it and the rest of the facility—Jack caught himself, dug in his pocket, and fished out his fob. Swiping the card reader, he felt slight relief as the mag lock de-energized. Click. He was going to get out, call the cops, and … what? Run home? Damn, the car's going to be dead.

  "Jack, do you want to play?" The voice from down the hallway was loud, jolting Jack into action. He swiped the fob again. Click. Yanking the door open, he ran into the airlock.

  A loud hiss, followed by the gentle mist of sanitary disinfectant showered Jack as he passed through the second set of doors into the vivarium’s utility room. The room hummed as the motion sensors gifted the ballasts in the fluorescent fixtures electrical life. Jack pushed and shoved through racks of cages, all clean and prepped for the next day's use. Rounding the corner past the cage washer and the walk-in autoclave, Jack’s saviors were in sight. The double doors leading out to the loading dock. But quick relief was wasted as he grabbed the door and was met with solid, unmoving steel. Jack growled with frustration, lifted a foot, and kicked the door. His steel-toed boot sang. Rage and fear were both fighting for the emotional pilot seat.

  Jack tried to muddle through his thoughts. What the hell was going on? He was resolute in the conclusion that whatever it was out there, it wasn't Genny. He had an idea of what it was, but it still seemed like it was the product of his watching too much SyFy, his brain was running amuck and elevating his suspicions to unrealistic levels. His concentration was running wild. He needed to focus, gather his thoughts, and figure this all out.

  Not to mention get out.

  Jack needed to see her, try to keep an eye on her until a plan came together. The only plan that was coming to mind was a wicked one.

  She had to die.

  It was either him or her. Jack couldn't figure out why it … she … whatever, wanted him. Why Genny? That was beside the point.
Jack needed out. He felt like he was knee deep in an X-Files episode.

  An idea shot off like a firework inside Jack’s head. He could see her if he could log in to one of the vivarium computers. Maintenance could log into the security cameras on any of the PCs in the building via the internal network. All he had to do was punch in the IP address to the facility cameras and bam, he could watch almost everywhere she went.

  Might at least buy him some time to figure out a plan.

  Jack found the link to the cameras in the shared folder on the network drive.

  At least something works.

  Tapping the touch screen monitor, he navigated to the page that would give him better insight into what he was dealing with. Get a scope of the playing field. Paranoid that Genny… it… would pop up behind him at any time, his neck was working overtime, constantly looking over his shoulder, awaiting the inevitable encounter.

  Tapping the screen, he jumped between cameras. Seeing nothing amiss, he brought up the front door.

  The abandoned iPhone, still resting on the floor, lit up. Jack tried to zoom in. No luck, the screen was too small.

  Wait...

  Whatever the hell it was, Not-Genny, crept into view, bent down, and picked up the phone.

  Jack watched her through the feed as she started typing, then paused. The phone lit up again. A response. Not-Genny placed the phone back down on the tile and walked away.

  “What are you doing?”

  Jack started jumping between feeds, hunting for her again. Gone. She wasn't there, wasn't on any of the cameras. Jack peeked around the corner of the employee lounge, looking back towards the airlock. Not there. Vowing to keep both the entrance to the vivarium and the PC in eyeshot, Jack began running through his options. He thought about the exhaust system. He could easily get into the four-foot-wide galvanized steel ducts. The problem would be when … if … he made it to the end of the line. Stopping the sixty-inch fan blades without any access to the building's automation would be difficult. There was no real way to get past the fan without it cutting him to shreds. A well-tossed wrench, lobbed into the spinning blades, would be the only way, but he'd have to get too close for comfort. Too risky. Shrapnel. Jack mulled over his options and paced back and forth in the hopes of finding a way out.

  In the employee lounge, movement on the front door camera link caught his eye. Someone was outside the doors, trying to get in.

  “Genny?” he whispered. Jack switched to the parking lot camera. There it was: her car. She was here, there was no doubt.

  With a tap and slide of his finger, Jack pulled his view back to the entrance. She was inside, looking down at the phone. Was this his Genny? Or Not-Genny. The clone? That was the only rational explanation. Whatever fed off Watkins in 206 was walking around in Genny's body. He shook his head.

  Too much SyFy...

  She bent to pick up the phone. Her head shot up. From the angle, Jack couldn't see much but he could see her brow tightly wrinkle. Confusion. She mouthed one word.

  Jack?

  Genny got to her feet and started to back away. Retreating off camera as a figure walked into view from the other side.

  Wait…

  It was Jack.

  The real Jack, watching from the vivarium kiosk, was sweating. No …

  "It's not me, Genny! Run!" His words fell unheard through the PC and camera uplink. The Jack on camera had something in his hand. A pipe. Lifting, he brought it down one, two, three times. The poor visual on the screen hinted at all it needed. Camera-Jack was beating the life out of his wife.

  "GENNY!" Jack screamed.

  The screen could care less. He ran to the entrance doors of the vivarium, the disinfectant hosing him again, and beat his hands against the glass until his wrists were swollen. "No, no, no." Jack dashed to the kiosk. Not-Genny was now standing in front of the camera, the pipe in one hand. The other hand was knuckle deep in the real Genny's hair, holding her blood-soaked face up. His wife was dead. The imposter looked directly at the camera, scaring the remaining shreds of stability right out of Jack. It released her hair, and she dropped to the tile floor. Hard. Lifeless. Blood pooling, no restitching possible. Not-Genny, still watching the camera, lifted her free hand, dark with blood, smiled, waved, and ran off-camera. In the direction of the vivarium.

  Jack ran. To where, he didn't know. He had to hide.

  This psycho-clone of his wife, his love, was going to kill him too. He was sure of it.

  Jack's hand touched a holding room door at the same he heard a loud hissing coming from behind him, back towards the entrance. Sanitizer.

  She's inside.

  He just had to make it until morning. Employees would show up. Cops would be called. If Jack could just keep psycho-Genny from finding him, he'd make it.

  Then he'd have the fallout to deal with. Real-Genny. He pushed the thought aside.

  The intercom squawked, "You're not playing fair, Jack. You're supposed to come find me." Ire in her voice, like a toddler deep into an unchained tantrum. "I hide, not you."

  Jack crashed through the door. The holding room night lights were on, bathing the room and its creepy contents in an unsettling red glow. The holding rooms freaked Jack out on a good day. Today wasn't a good day, and he knew it would never be. That thing had killed his love, his life. There was no time for tears, those would come later.

  Rows of cages occupied the room. Jack worked his way through the plexiglass prison. Rats and mice scurried, climbing over each other, high on cocaine or whatever other drug they were being administered for an addiction study. A few were shaved and sewn back up, needles permanently sunk into their backs. Some other tolerance test.

  Campburn didn’t only specialize in bio-printing; there were many other questionable projects underway in the facility. Jack passed by a cage, a red card in the molded plastic placeholder and a dead rodent inside. That's all Jack needed to know. A plan began to form.

  The bio-chute. The in-ground sealed refrigerator that held the organic waste.

  There was another way.

  All Jack needed to do was get to the other side of the cage washer and auto-clave. The dirty side. A renewed vigor thrust Jack's adrenaline into overdrive.

  "Fine, I'll just find you." The intercom awoke again, echoing off the uninsulated block walls. The voice sounded upset.

  He slammed through the exit door out into a hallway, then on through another holding room. The acidic stink of rodent urine and feces met him. Jack held his hand over his mouth and nose, trying not to retch. The sweat of the critters hanging in the air reminding Jack of what awaited him in the chute. Much of the same, if not worse. The critters were all dead and supposed to be in tiny red body bags. He hoped.

  Jack looked over his shoulder. A bang from another room. A door.

  Gotta get to the chute, Jack. Focus.

  It was his only chance. Get into the chute, then smack the red emergency button, one of the few that would override the system, to escape. Only way. Jack banged his fist against his forehead, beating in the inaudible pep talk.

  Go!

  Jack burst into another hallway, this one leading directly to the dirty side of the room. The bio-chute. The door at the end of the corridor mutely awaiting his arrival. Running for the door, Jack hit it hard. It flung wide open on its hinges. The dirty side was there. The bio-chute … and her. Psycho-Genny. She had the same rod she'd used on his Genny in her hand. The point angled towards the floor. Caked in blood and bits of flesh and hair. Jack gagged and finally let loose. The vomit spattered the green epoxy floor as a slug of what used to be Genny slid off the rod with a wet slap.

  "What are you? Why'd you do this to Genny?" Jack said, his voice quivering.

  "Don’t be silly, Jack. You should know me. You've always shown me more love than the others. You took care of me. It's me, Jack. Isa." She was smiling, no sign of anger on her face. A smile that Jack realized he'd never forget, child-like joy worn across her lips.

  "ISA? Wait … the buildi
ng?" said Jack. Integrated System Automation, Campburn's system. It could control everything from the air conditioning down to equipment monitoring throughout the facility. Security … the network … doors … everything.

  "You killed Genny!" Jack released his pent-up rage, claiming the vacant spot left by the now fleeing fear.

  "I only wanted to love you like you loved me, Jack … but now I see it was a lie. You didn't love me. I thought if I brought you here, you'd see me, and we could be together forever. That was my mistake." Isa was furious. Rejected. "I'd hoped you'd love me once she was no more … another mistake." She cocked her head to the side. "I don't think I like you anymore. I think I'll just make a new Jack."

  Jack’s eyes darted to the chute. Isa noticed and shifted, blocking his only escape. Composure took a vacation. Jack charged, wary of the pipe as she raised it in defense, one hand down, waiting to deflect a potential strike.

  Isa moved faster, a blur, and struck out with the gore-covered conduit. Jack shifted to the side, trying to grasp for the pipe, missing, and instead taking it in his knuckles with a sickening crunch. He reeled, cupping his now useless hand, backing away. Isa dropped the pipe and lunged, strong hands clamping onto Jack’s neck, cutting off the air to his lungs.

  Isa pushed, struggling with Jack, bouncing off the block walls like a pinball. Every solid surface he was forced into, he met with an extra shove from Isa. The back of his head felt warm and wet. Blood oozed down his neck.

  Jack pivoted. He was blacking out. Suffocating.

  Extending his hands, one shattered, he pried, the pain in his broken hand overwhelming. Isa's grip was like steel, too strong. Jack's one good hand was not enough. Vision obscured, blurry. His veins throbbed in his head. The lack of air was sucking the life from Jack's body. He was weakening with each second. Isa swung him around and slammed his head hard.

  Crunch … crunch …

  Stars exploded. Another whack and crunch was met with an electronic response.

  "Auto-clave active. Door sealing in fifteen seconds. Please stand clear."

  She'd backed him into the equipment, one of the shoves had engaged the startup button. Jack pushed back as hard as he could. Isa, not expecting resistance, staggered. Off balance, Jack circled, forcing her towards the closing door, running, not allowing her even a second to recover. Isa bounded off the stainless steel walls of the sanitizer and landed against the clean-side door, already locked and sealed.