Chapter Five

Chapter five of The Life of MC and Me

Chapter Five

 

            Over the next few weeks, I continue my work at the lab with LB, providing the proof to Jack that she is doing better each and every day. Even JW is starting to look hopeful. The longer I can keep them looking good to Jack, the farther way they are from the Morgue. Their progress is nothing compared to MC’s. Whatever works with the two in the lab, works twice as well on MC. LB is beginning to talk like MC, but in much shorter and chopper sentences. JW will talk to Sue or sometimes me, but otherwise he will shout one word demands such as “food”. Jack approves of all of the improvements but is still on the fence about JW. MC believes that JW is stubborn, and I assume he was probably a stubborn man even before death.

            MC’s speech improves every day. The medicines I bring home that have worked so well for the two in the lab work wonders on him. It almost seems like he never died. But, he is still extremely pale and if he gets cold his muscles stiffen up again.

            Paul and I have gone out for dinner just once more, this time only us to a public restaurant. Again, he kissed me before I went home, and this time it didn’t fill me with panic.

            As I return home from this date, MC looks up from the couch and sets aside his book. “How did it go?”

            “It went very well,” I sit down next to him. “He wants to take me to the movies on my next day off.”

            “You’re going,” MC states. “You spent your. Last day off with. Me.”

            “I feel like I’m leaving you alone too often.”

            He shrugs, and picks up his book. I watch him for a few moments, and then look outside the big window looking out to the driveway. The evening is warm and fireflies dance in my yard. Only a few stars have started to appear. After a moment of thought, I turn back to MC.

            “Would you like to attempt driving again?”

            He starts slightly, surprised by my question. “You think I’m ready?

            I nod and take his hand. “MC, I’ve been cooping you up. You haven’t had any serious relapse since you’ve lived with me. I care about you so much, but I can’t treat a man who is older than me like a child.”

            He smiles slightly. “I feel like. A child most. Of the time.”

            “But you don’t look like one. If you were in a group of people in town, no one would think that you were out of place.”

            His eyebrows come together slightly. “I’m not ready. To do that yet.”

            “No, I don’t think I am either, honestly.” I’ve never seen my coworkers outside of work, but if someone were to recognize MC everything would fall apart. MC and I would be killed if anyone found out the truth.

            We sit there for a while, thinking things over. He begins to nod. “I think I could. Drive around. The neighborhood.”

            I made him put on a light jacket before we left, just in case his muscles decided to stiffen. He climbed into the drives seat and stared at the wheel and controls for a few minutes.

            “It’s been more. Than eight years. Since I drove last,” he whispered.

            With a deep breath, he started the car. I tried my best not to give him direction unless he looked totally confused, and to his benefit he never did. Every now and then he would tap the breaks a little too hard, causing us to be flung forward and caught by our seatbelts, but otherwise MC drove around the block three times without an incident. He went slow the first time, gaining his bearings and also looking at the other ranch-style homes. The next few times were peaceful riding. He pulled into our driveway with ease, parked, turned off the lights, and cut the engine. He looked over at me, slightly nervous.

            “You did great,” I pat his arm. “I’m sorry.”

            “Why are you sorry?” the caring look of concern returns to his face.

            “I haven’t been treating you right. I’ve been treating you like a test subject,” I admit, tears misting my eyes. “You need to be treated like a human being.”

            He gives me a small grin. “It’s so much better. Than what Jack gave me.”

           

            The next morning, I walked out of the elevator onto the third floor basement of the fake hospital. The halls were empty, and the woman at the front desk hadn’t said a word to me and didn’t even glance at me when I walked in. That was when I noticed the bulky security guard in the corner, who was watching both of us with dead eyes. My palms were sweating with nervousness. The sinking feeling in my stomach was from my first assumption on why there was a grim feeling in the air: Jack had decided to scrap our current specimens.

            I try to keep calm and cling to the good feelings over the success in my life as of late. All of those happy moments slip away from me as soon as I walk into the viewing room and see only Jack standing watching LB. He turns to me with a face chiseled out of cold, hard stone.

            “Kimberly, we have a problem.”

            I swallow hard, “And what would that problem be, sir?”

            He deeply sighs, and turns back to JL. “Did you ever meet specimen number 246?”

            “Uh, no, sir,” the question takes me by surprise, I wasn’t expecting this line of conversation.

            “She was scrapped shortly before you took over as one of our head scientists. However, two of our employees who work on level one believed to have seen her in the market yesterday.”

            It takes a moment for the weight of this statement to settle over me. My mind races and I feel dizzy. Someone else took a specimen home? Did she escape? Is she doing well? Better than MC? Who is looking after her, giving her the medicines we make? It has to be someone who still works hands-on with our current specimens.

            “Our enforcement team are on the lookout for her, but they also assume that if she is still active, then she must have been taken away by someone who works here,” Jack echoes my thoughts.

            I shudder, feeling like I just shook hands with death and let go before he could take my soul. Is the universe mocking me for thinking MC could one day go out in public? Is it irony that MC and I talked about this not even ten hours ago?

            Jack pays no attention to my silence, continuing on, “We are interrogating everyone who has worked with Specimens 246 through 250. And, quite unfortunately, it is so difficult to gain DNA from our scrapped specimens. If I would’ve had the slightest idea that something so… disloyal would happen in my staff, I wouldn’t have been cremating the remains.”

            He cursed quietly to himself. A small trickle of relief cut through my panic. The body I had put in the morgue in place of MC wouldn’t betray me…unless the Morgue workers left teeth or bone fragments in the ashes. Panic rose and drank up the small trickle, leaving me shaking. I dug my nails into my palm, doing my best to keep my panic hidden from Jack.

            He turned to me. “Please, sit down, Kim.”

            I did as I was asked, and he sat opposite of me at the table. He studied me for a moment before sighing again softly. “The enforcement team may bring you in for questioning again later, but I am doing the majority of it myself. You have been loyal to me for over eight years, Kim. I love that I found a head scientist that will stick with their position for longer than the duration of one specimen. Your job has the highest turnover rate in our company. It didn’t used to, back when the specimens didn’t even live past a couple months. But people get so damn attached. It’s like they think these are pets,” he waves his hand back at the viewing window. “You seem to keep yourself composed, and ever loyal to the job.”

            He pauses, but I don’t know how to respond so I nod slightly. He nods back, “Yes, Kim, you’re one of the good ones. But, your old friend Patti doesn’t seem like she was as loyal to our cause as you are.”

            “Patti? But, all she does is cook the meals now.”

            “Yes, but she has been delivering them herself lately. It makes me wonder if she is trying to see what we are doing as to get progress in these specimens. I don’t think she is trustworthy. I had to threaten her when she stepped down as head. She was so distraught that she wanted to quit altogether; seemingly forgetting the only way out of this job. You’ve all signed the contracts. But, even though I think she would make a decent specimen, she had no desire to do that.”

            Well, now why wouldn’t she? I thought, all that would happen to her would be death, painful new life, and death again. Easy.

            “Still, I don’t see how she would’ve gotten her hands on our medicines without relying on one of our hands-on employees to supply them to her,” he sat back and looked pointedly at me.

            “Sir, Patti and I haven’t talked in years. She resents me.”

            He inclines his head, “Yes, that I have noticed. She has placed complaints about you that have no ground.”

            Complaints?

            “However, while I do not believe it is you, I do believe it is someone on your team. Now, this doesn’t reflect poorly on you, Kim. You have no reason not to trust your team. But, I do remember that Dan was rather attached to his specimen as well. He didn’t react as poorly as Patti, but he is department leader of the medicines. I’m sure you can see my line of thinking,” he smiles at me, as if relying on a comrade in war.

            “I’m not so sure that Dan would be doing that, Jack,” I begin. Jack’s smile falters, so I start a new tactic, “He is loyal to our cause. To your goal and dream, sir.”

            As flattery often does, it soothes Jack back into a confident calm. “You could be correct. He is being questioned by our enforcement team now. I will talk to him myself after lunch. I’m going to send you on your way, and your team will be in shortly to help you with your tasks today.”

            He stands and shakes my hand, “You just keep on doing what you do best, Kim. You are leading our cause.”

            He leaves me standing there, feeling as if I drank molten lead and it has burned my insides and now is turning solid in my gut. My team comes in one by one, all looking scared out of their minds. They throw themselves into their jobs for today, shaking and some have tears in their eyes. The enforcement team isn’t prodding them gently, as Jack had done with me. It looks like they were screamed at, threatened. Jack must be livid. Of course, he won’t show that he himself has it in him to bellow and rage, but rather let other people do the dirty work for him as always.

            Dan finally comes in, looking exhausted and as nervous as everyone else. He goes to his test tubes and beakers, donning his goggles and trying to focus.

            I come up behind him and whisper, “Are you okay?”

            He jumps and drops an empty test tube. It shatters against the floor. Dan sighs, “Yeah, just peachy.”

            I apologize and begin to help him sweep up the mess. We talk in hushed whispers.

            “What did the enforcement team do to you?” I ask.

            “Just a lot of threats to my job, my life. But I kept telling them I don’t even know Patti.”

            “Why would they threaten you so badly?”

            He shrugged. “I guess I am the prime subject. They are livid that Patti called off today, they think it isn’t coincidental, and I’m sure her house is being watched. Jack has told them not to take this to the streets as of yet, it would risk to much. But the enforcers are threatening that we will be getting plenty of new specimens if someone doesn’t talk,” he shrugs again with a nervous smile, “but I’m too old to be one now, so who cares?”

            His attempt at humor falls flat, but he is right. He has just turned forty-eight, which is ages too old in our specimens; Jack refuses to revive anyone over twenty-five. Of course, I still fear that if I die, he would make an exception and use me as a specimen.

            The day seems to drag on, weighed down by our collective nerves and the threat of someone being removed from our team. I announce that we should all go to lunch, which eases up some of the tension but only slightly.

            Dan and I eat together, hardly talking. When two large, beefy members of the enforcement team arrive in the room, all conversation dies out. They make their way to our table and approach Dan.

            “Jack is ready for you on level one. Do you need escorted?” one asks gruffly.

            “No, I’ll be fine,” Dan begins to pick up his trash and piling it on the tray.

            The two go to the door, and wait for Dan there. Before Dan leaves the table, I put my hand onto his arm and say, “Dan, if you need anything, please call me, okay?”

            He smiles at me, looking exhausted but thankful for my friendship. He nods and leaves the room, escorted by the two men.

            My team returns to our work after lunch, and much later a small girl who I recognize as someone’s assistant comes in to inform me that Dan has been released for the day and will be returned to work tomorrow.

            I thank the girl and wonder what this could mean. If he is returning tomorrow, maybe he is finally off the hook. But is Jack is sending him home for the day that could mean something more sinister is in the works than just letting Dan rest. Jack isn’t one to let people go home early.

            I begin to wonder what really goes on in level one. I myself have been on all the floors except for one. Two was the kitchen, three is where I work with the active specimens, four is the morgue, and five is where we hold the inactivated specimens in tanks that are keeping their body alive until we reanimate their brain. I had a rough idea that our surveillance and enforcement team worked on one, but maybe there’s more to it than that. I put the thoughts aside and try my best to finish this exhausting day.

 

            The day finally does come to an end, and on my way home I nearly forget that I have to go to Paul’s shop to pick up my latest order. When I finally turn around and retrace my path back to the shop, it is nearly time for Paul to close.

            Paul opens the door for me, and turns the neon “Open” sign off once I am inside. Paul takes a long look at me, and I fear that he may begin asking questions on why I look so ragged. Instead, he comes up to me and wraps his muscular arms around me in a firm hug like he is trying to hold together all my pieces so I don’t fall apart.

            The gesture, while simple, helps calm me and puts aside my worries of being battered with questions.

            “Looks like you had a tough day. Do you need me to do anything for you? I could get you a coffee from the back if you want. Or go buy you some ice-cream, or a pizza so you don’t have to cook yourself dinner tonight,” Paul says, his chin resting on top of my head, still holding me together.

            I bury my face in his chest, just enjoying the moment. All I really want is to stay here in his arms for a while longer. “No, Paul, I’ll be okay.”

            He seems to hear my inner request, because he doesn’t let go for another few minutes. When he does, he gives a soft, quick kiss to my forehead before going to the back.

            I never knew how easy this could be. I always thought that relationships were going to be a minefield, full of uncovered problems and fights that are waiting to blow up as soon as you tread into the field. Paul isn’t like this however; our relationship isn’t forced nor full of hidden dangers. But, I’m not even sure that we are dating yet, or if this is still considered “hanging out”, as he put it on the night he kissed me. But I don’t think friends hold and kiss each other the way Paul does to me.

            Paul returns to the front with a bag full of meat. I give him the cash for all of it, counted out to exact change because it’s the same every time.

            “Are you sure you don’t need anything?” he asks again.

            “I’m okay, Paul,” I smile, a real smile for once. “I’m just tired.”

            “You look tired,” he leans forward with his arms on the counter.

            We stand there in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. My brows furrow together, and finally I ask, “Are we dating?”

            His laugh is soft and full of kindness. “Miss Lance, we can and will be whatever you want us to be. If you are happy with me just hugging you and taking you to a movie or dinner every now and then, that’s fine. If you want to start calling me your boyfriend, that’s fine too. It’s whatever you want.”

            I believe him, and mumble, “I’ve never done this before.”

            Again, that soft chuckle. “You’ve never dated anyone before? That seems hard to believe. You are too beautiful and kind to be alone.”

            Of course, I am not really alone, not with MC in my life, but in the sense that Paul is talking about yes, I am alone. I never have had eyes for anyone, and to my knowledge I have never attracted anyone, besides the man in front of me.

            My heart is heavy, but I’m beginning to feel less panicked and confused by the emotions I have towards Paul. The official titles of boyfriend and girlfriend seem too extreme at the moment, but I am happy that I have someone to hold me the way he does, and the soft kisses are better than I would’ve imagined.

            Paul reaches out and puts a hand on my cheek, causing me to lean into it. Even this is so reassuring and helpful to my nerves than anything else would be.

            “If you need anything you know how to contact me,” he whispers.

            I smile, “I know where you live.”

            This makes him chuckle again. He comes out from behind the counter, grabbing his belongings on our way out. He locks the door behind him and walks me to my car.

            “If me kissing you is too much for you, just tell me to stop,” Paul states, looking a bit guilty. “I didn’t know you’ve never dated anyone before. I don’t mean to be forward with you or make you uncomfortable.”

            When his eye catches mine, he begins to ramble on more, but I lean up and kiss him, softer than he does with me, feeling slightly unsure of myself. Paul must see the effort I am making to overcome this self-consciousness however, because he smiles and doesn’t continue with his apologies. He gives me another hug, squeezing me tight to make sure I stay in one piece, and finally heads over to his own car.

            I head home feeling much better than I did half an hour ago. When my headlights flash against the living room window MC pokes his head out for a moment to wave at me before disappearing behind the curtain again. The car rolls into the open garage, and as I am getting out with my bag of meats in hand, a car pulls into my driveway and stops behind me. The headlights blind me, making me unable to see the driver. Even when they are cut out, I cannot tell who is inside. The sea of panic that Paul had calmed starts to make uneasy waves yet again. The door of the strange car opens, and I am tempted to run into the house. A male figure steps out of the car and calls, “Kimberly, I need to talk to you.”

Author's Note

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