by Aaron Bunce
Jacoby took a deep breath and swallowed hard. The sound of his voice continued to grate against his nerves, but the squeal of chair’s unoiled casters almost unhinged him completely. Horrible impulses pushed their way into his thoughts. He had to look away, or he thought that he might actually strike him. No, he wanted to kill the noise. Kill it.
“Excuse me?” Doctor Reeds said and tapped him gently on the shoulder. Jacoby swung about, fists balled and jaw clenched. The doctor barely touched him but it felt like he had dropped a hammer on his back.
“I just need your consent for the blood draw,” Reeds said rather meekly and gestured to a signature box on his screen.
“I’m…sorry. Just not myself today, I guess. Go ahead.” Jacoby took a deep breath and tried to force his raging heart to slow, and then scribbled something unintelligible onto the screen with a trembling finger.
Jacoby looked away and bit his knuckle as the needle bit painfully into his arm. He glanced back as blood filled the auto-syringe. Thick, deep-red fluid filled the vial, the color mesmerizing and unsettling at the same time. The booster injection was less painful, but he could feel the solution filtering into his body. It was cold, then hot. He could’ve sworn he felt it bubble. Or was that his blood?
The doctor’s face flashed in and out of his vision, his mouth moving comically and his words muffled and distant. Jacoby wanted to bite him, or pummel his face until he couldn’t make noise anymore. A horrible pressure was building in his head, and settling behind his eyes. He felt drunk or high…maybe both.
The office blurred and a strange gurgling, sucking noise reverberated out of his belly. He was in a hallway, but not entirely sure how he got there. How much time had passed? His head started to throb in time with his heart. It felt like it might split down the middle.
I hate the pain, hate the damn pain!
Everything made him angry…no, everything was anger. Jacoby stumbled past a group of admin workers. They laughed and joked, walking importantly in their overly tidy uniforms, “Planitex Industrial” emblazoned in bold, red lettering.
Yes, the color of blood.
He hated their faces and their happiness. They didn’t pay him any mind as he tripped and fell through a service door. His stomach gurgled and whined again. He could feel it shake his whole body.
Something sour and thick pushed its way up his throat. He heaved and bent over, retching all over the wall. It was thick and his stomach cramped so hard he almost crapped his pants. The vomit ran down the white ceramic wall panels, falling onto the ground with a “plop”. It was bubbly, stringy, and blue. There was blood, too, pockets of red blood.
The sight of blood sent a wave of anger rushing through him. He couldn’t rationalize it, but he liked the way it felt. Like strength and power. The anger grew more intense, and he slammed his fist into the bulkhead over and over. Bones in his hand snapped. The pain felt surprisingly good.
Jacoby staggered back out of the service passage a few moments later. The group was gone.
Better for them.
More convulsions wracked his body, crawling up through his chest and neck. His anger swelled as the convulsions moved into his head. A peculiar crawling sensation pushed forward from behind his eyes, his throbbing headache increasing in response.
Jacoby staggered across the hallway and leaned against the outer bulkhead for support. The stars twinkled, surging like blistering pinpricks of light. He took a half-step back, baring his teeth as he caught sight of his ghost-like reflection in the window. Black veins crept through his pale skin, forming dark rings around his eyes, which now looked like dull, shadowy pits.
“Anna!” he moaned, a glob of thick mucus slipping out of the corner of his mouth.
His vision narrowed, the anger that had so consumed him a moment before loosening slightly. Jacoby’s heart fluttered as he thought about his friend, and how stupid he had been to dwell on their fight for so long. She was right about me not telling her about the new contract. I’m a fool.
Jacoby stumbled down the passage and back onto the transit elevator. The ride to D ring passed in a blur. He was in a passage when he snapped to again, signs pointing to long-term housing blocks on either side of him. He flashed between rage, inconsolable depression, and intolerable joy with almost every step forward. Fear tied them all together, until Mike’s words bubbled up into his mind. I’d hit that. Jacoby’s hands balled up into fists, his knuckles popping loudly.
He was at the door to their quarters and held his wrist up to let the reader scan his imbedded id chip. The door chimed softly and whooshed open. Anna sat on the padded window seat. Her head was down and hands crossed over a book. No one read paper books anymore – no one except Anna.
The overhead light struck her curly blond hair and it seemed to catch fire in the light. She’d dozed off waiting for him. Jacoby took a step into the living room, but horrible, murderous thoughts clawed their way into his mind. He saw flesh tearing, blood spilling, and hair matted and ruined. No, it is Mike…he thought. He was just angry about what the prick said.
The anger surged back in again, the emotion so strong it almost knocked him off his feet. He barely caught the corner of the wall. The book hit the ground with a thump as Anna woke with a start.
“Coby, I didn’t hear you come in. I wanted to…” she moved towards him, but Jacoby threw up a hand.
“No!” he growled and threw his body down the hallway, bouncing haphazardly between walls. His voice was thick, gravelly…not his.
“Coby!” Anna called after him, but he stumbled into the bathroom. Jacoby turned and put all of his weight against the door. It slammed shut and he flipped the lock. He shut his eyes as more horrible thoughts ripped through him.
“Coby,” she whispered from just outside the hall. “Coby, we need to talk about this. I’m sorry I got mad, but we need to talk, to listen to each other. That’s what we do. That’s what we’ve always done.” She started to cry.
“Just go away, Anna. I can’t…I can’t deal with this right now,” he growled, barely able to stifle the urge to slam his face into the door. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being hurt. He loved her, cherished her. She made him want to be better.
“Don’t push me away, Coby. Please! I don’t care what my family thinks. They can go to hell. Our friendship means more to me than that! You know that, right? I just wish you’d told me…I’m sorry I snapped. It’s just…it’s just… Please, come out so we can talk this through!” she pleaded.
Jacoby could feel her body heat through the door. He rose to his knees and rested his face against the cool metal. Muscles all over his body started to twitch involuntarily.
“Please let me in.”
He could smell the mint on her breath, and the sweet musk of her body. Lusty thoughts flooded through him, but they quickly gave way to the anger. Fingernails scraped against the door, digging, splintering, and tearing into the paint.
Anna’s trying to pry open the door, he thought frantically and moved for the handle. She can’t see me, not like…this. Jacoby staggered back, realizing with horror that it wasn’t Anna fumbling with the handle, but him. The fingers of his right hand scrabbled against the metal door like thick spider legs, moving with a menacing purpose all their own. He reached over and pulled his arm back just as his fingers curled around the lock release.
“Coby? Are you okay? What’s going on in there?” Anna asked, sniffing loudly.
Jacoby slumped back to the ground, his right arm still convulsing wildly on its own. First my best friend, then that bitch Janice, and now my body, everything is spinning out of control! He choked back a sob, and finally managed a deep, steadying breath.
“Anna, we can talk about all of this tomorrow. I’ll give you all of my attention…as much as you want. All of it! I just need…I just need a little time to myself right now. I need rest.” His voice wavered and broke. He was barely able to spit out the words. Damn he sounded strange…scared.
“Fine!” Anna hiss
ed after a lengthy silence, and then he heard her stomp off down the hall.
Jacoby let his head droop as silence fell over the bathroom, a blessed, soothing, silence. He closed his eyes, willing his jumbled, erratic thoughts to calm. Rest, just need rest, he thought, begging for the peace of dreamless sleep.
But it would not be so. His body flopped to the side and he fell painfully against the metal waste can. His arm flopped and slapped him in the face, his jagged fingernails scrapping and gouging his flesh.
“No…stop it! Damn you! Damn you!” Jacoby grunted and rolled over, holding his breath for fear of making any noise.
What would Anna think? He thought in a panic. She’d leave…no, she’d run, straight for a shuttle and go back home. She’d leave me all alone. He’d never been…all alone.
Jacoby slapped his flailing arm down and clutched it against his chest. It wouldn’t stop moving. It wouldn’t stop. Gagging and wheezing, Jacoby fumbled his way to his knees, and then his feet. He staggered against the wall as a sharp pain jabbed into his head. Angry, belligerent thoughts battered his mind. He wanted to hurt someone, or something…anything he could get his hands on. He wanted to kill. To rip and tear. To bite and gnash.
No! he sagged forward against the sink, trying desperately to get his runaway anger in check. It would pass, he only needed time! He lifted his head and opened his eyes, meeting his reflection in the mirror.
“Gak!” Jacoby groaned, unable to form words. His arm flopped back up, his fingers snaking into his hair. He reached up and pulled it free, tearing a fistful of hair out in the process. His fingers opened and closed spasmodically, allowing the clump of hair and bloody scalp to fall to the floor.
Desperate and terrified, Jacoby grabbed his unruly arm just below the elbow and brought it down against the sink. He gasped as flesh smacked painfully into stainless steel, but did it again and again, banging the limb against the sink like a fisherman with a feisty catch. Blood spattered his face, coating the sink in dark droplets. Finally, with one violent swing, he felt the bones in his forearm snap.
Jacoby growled, grinding his teeth through the pain, but his ruined arm didn’t fight anymore. It now hung, twitching next to his body, an angry pulse beating in time with his raging heart.
“It’s nothing. It’s nothing. Just a bad day…that’s all,” he murmured, almost singing reassurances to himself as he clutched his arm and stepped tentatively up to the sink. It didn’t matter that he was lying to himself. He would believe it. For now, at least.
Jacoby bit his lip as he met the gaze of the reflection staring back at him in the mirror. He wouldn’t look away. No, he couldn’t. It wasn’t real. He was real. The black veins crept away from his eyes, painting a macabre, vile tapestry across his pale skin. But that wasn’t what unnerved him so. No. His reflection wasn’t him. The man staring back at him grimaced, a faint trail of blue saliva leaking out of his mouth, and then he winked.
Day 2
0815 Hours
A sliver of light pierced the darkness, burning into his eyes like a searing, hot bolt. Jacoby groaned, rolled over, and found that he couldn’t move his neck. His hands worked out and explored the space. It was hard, and relatively cool. He opened his eyes a little further. He was lying in the shower, his body contorted, twisted onto itself to fit into the tight, three foot by three foot space.
Jacoby slowly unraveled, first his feet and then his legs flopping out and onto the floor. A chime sounded somewhere beyond the door. He grabbed ahold of the shower door handle and pulled himself upright, the pain in his head and neck almost instantly fading away. A chime sounded beyond the door again, followed by a series of sharp, staccato knocks.
“Hold on,” he heard Anna say.
Slowly, Jacoby unfurled his body and stood. He winced, faintly remembering pain in his arm. The bone, it was broken. And yet he felt no pain. He lifted the limb, turning his hand and twisting his wrist. The bones appeared straight and intact. His skin was also free of any cuts, bruises, or blemishes.
“Was it? Could it all have just been a bad dream?” he muttered, exhaling deeply. But as he turned, he spotted blood crusted on the side of the sink. There were small bits of blood spattered on his shirt, as well as something blue. What had happened? His recollections of the previous day were foggy at best….and the harder he strained to remember, the foggier it all became. A clump of bloody hair sat on the floor not six inches from his foot.
“Jacoby, door!” Anna yelled, her tone clipped and icy.
He slept in the bathroom, no, the shower. No wonder she’s pissed. What did you screw up now? he wondered, leaning forward and looking at his reflection in the mirror. There was something crusty in the stubble around his mouth, but other than some unruly hair, he didn’t appear too worse for the wear. Had he gotten drunk the night before? It made sense. Probably got stuck talking to Mike, wasted some credits on synth-whiskey, threw up on himself, and crawled into the shower to sleep it off. Or was that the night before?
“Coby!” Anna hollered, this time her voice devoid of anything resembling warmth.
“Yeah…coming!” he finally managed to holler back.
Jacoby hastily pulled off his shirt and stuffed it in the hamper, before scrubbing off his face and brushing his teeth. He turned and reached for the door, taking note of the strange scratches in the painted metal just beneath the handle. I don’t know anything about it, he decided, shaking his head and pulling the door open.
Anna waited at the far end of the hall, standing next to the door. She was still in her nightgown, a Planitex issued sweatshirt pulled tightly around her shoulders. Her hair was disheveled, although it looked as if she’d hastily tried to tie it back. Her normally welcoming blue eyes met him with an icy and painfully apathetic glare.
“I’m coming,” he said, making his way quickly down the hallway. Despite waking up shoved in a single stall shower, he felt surprisingly spry. In fact, most of his usual aches and pains appeared to be gone.
Jacoby approached Anna, giving her his best disarming smile. It died when he reached the open door. Janice stood just outside in the hall, her face a pinched scowl, her gray-streaked red hair pulled back in a painfully tight knot.
“We had a seven fifty-five post incident review. It is eight o’clock. Why am I here, as opposed to down there?” she intoned, her aire of stuffy, bored superiority ringing clear.
“I didn’t know,” Jacoby replied, innocently.
Janice smacked her gum, her teeth clicking together in what could almost pass as a snarl. Then she laughed. “Let’s add that to the ‘Jacoby didn’t know’ book, and file it in the ‘Jacoby ruins company equipment and generally fucks up the whole shift’ chapter,” her humor drained away almost instantly.
“Just let me get a shirt. One sec,” he said, his nerves twisting his gut.
Jacoby eased around Anna, who only moved to follow him back to his bedroom. As soon as they turned the corner, she started into him.
“A post incident? What happened? Why couldn’t you tell me last night? Was it because you were drunk again…two nights in a row? And it was Mike, wasn’t it?”
Jacoby nudged the pressure pad on his dresser with a knee, and forced the drawer open when it moved too slowly. He fished out a clean work shirt and pulled it on before turning back to Anna. He desperately wanted a shower, but knew Janice wouldn’t wait. Anna waited for him to turn back before continuing. He knew his friend, and unfortunately, she knew him better. He’d only salvage things if he started with some honesty for a change.
“I collapsed at work yesterday…no, I’m fine,” he started, her angry face breaking momentarily with concern. He continued before she could cut in. “Station doc just thinks that I had a bug…have a bug. I probably got a little too warm. I blacked out and fused my saw. No one got hurt,” he added, trying to defuse as much of the tension as possible.
“You’re sick? I thought you were just hung over, or worse, drunk again. You should have told me. If you weren’t feeling
well, I wouldn’t have brought any of that shit up. We’ve always talked about things…well, everything. I was just mad that you didn’t tell me about the new contract before you signed it. You’ve been so distant lately. Yes, I want to get off this station…maybe see Mars, Jupiter’s moons, or go further out to the outer system colonies. You seemed so excited when we started talking about the deep space colonization program and then you just up and renewed your contract.
“If you’d asked if I minded you renewing your contract, I wouldn’t have said no. I might have questioned it, maybe brought up some alternatives. I wasn’t mad until you…well, until you wouldn’t come out of the bathroom. I thought you were hiding from me so you wouldn’t have to talk about it. You know how I hate it when people refuse to deal with shit,” Anna said, her cheeks flushing with a touch of red.
“I know,” Jacoby said, weakly. He considered the foggy memories of the previous evening: the blood on the sink, as well as the scratches on the door. Part of him disagreed with her. He did need to hide from her. But he wouldn’t interrupt her now. He’d earned every word.
He eased into his clean pants and pulled on his boots. He wanted to sit down and talk, to get their situation back to where it was just Anna and Coby, their own little self-contained universe where their friendship stood strong against whatever came at them. That’s when things were good. There wasn’t anything they couldn’t tackle together. But the longer he kept Janice waiting, the worse her wrath would be, and this wasn’t “a dip your toe in to see how hot the water is” scenario. Janice would likely try and boil the meat from his bones.
“I’m already feeling loads better. I think the trip to the doc was the difference. Let’s talk later. We can work through everything, I promise. Besides, if Janice has her way, we may be looking for alternative plans sooner anyway, and we might have to start talking about some changes,” he said, reaching up and tucking a loose strand of hair back and behind her ear. “Are you working today?”
