E52 Read online

  As if he can feel no pain he slams his body against the door repeatedly. With each terrifying lunge he takes, the glass window cracks.

  “What is wrong with this child?” I wonder to myself.

  I continue to watch him. As a mother I want to open the door and help him, but I dare not. With the strength that this child obviously possess he could rip me to shreds.

  “Is this what I will become?” I question myself as a lump gathers in my throat.

  The glass suddenly breaks as he slams his arm against the weakening barricade. Before I scream he reaches through the shards of glass, taking hold of my hair. Feared, I grab my hair closest to the roots and shift my weight in efforts to free myself. My assiduity pays off and I am released. Losing my balance I fall to the ground and glance up.

  He is determined to keep me captive as he continues to reach aimlessly through the hole. His flesh rips as the sharp edges of the broken glass digs deep into his arms. He screeches uncontrollably. By the wildness in his eyes I can not tell if he is in pain, or if his desire is to kill me.

  “Get out of here!” I scream within myself.

  Terrified, I leap from my lying position and run back to the cafeteria.

  Bill is sitting at the table. There is a plate of food placed on the table in front of him and one placed on the other side of the table for me. To my surprise he does not look angry that I had left, in fact he seems to be enjoying his breakfast tremendously.

  “Where did you go?” He asks, irritated. “And why are you wearing my lab coat?”

  I want to tell him what I saw and that I now fear that I too will turn into the monster I had been watching.

  “I was cold, and had to use the restroom” I answer.

  My legs are still shaking so I sit down. I do not want my fear to be evident to him.

  “So I borrowed your jacket while I went to the bathroom,” I lie.

  My voice quivers as I see blood on the ends of my hair. I quickly grab my hair and twist it into a bun.

  The expression on Bills face indicates that he does not believe my deceptive story. He whispers something beneath his breath and then takes a bite of his eggs.

  With my mind deep in thought I pick up my fork upside down and move my eggs around the plate. I am no longer hungry. The sight of the child I had seen in the other room has ruined my appetite.

  Bill glances over and smiles at me. “Was scrambled eggs okay with you?”

  “Hu?” I ask.

  “The eggs. Are they okay? He asks again. “I see that you are not eating. Did you want something different?”

  Glancing down at my plate I realize what I am doing. I turn the fork around and stab into the eggs. I take a bite.

  “Yes they are fine,” I answer.

  “Well then eat up,” He winks.

  The eggs are cold as is the bacon. I ignore the sick feeling in my stomach and eat every last bite of both.

  “Will I turn out like the others?” I ask, glancing over at Bill.

  I am mortified that I have asked such a thing, but I can not stop the question from escaping my mouth. The destiny of what my unborn child and I will become is at stake and I need to know our fate.

  “What others?” Bill asks.

  “I did not go to the bathroom like I said,” I confess. “I walked back down the hallway. I wanted to know who was screaming and why.”

  My confession continues to uncontrollably roll off my tongue until my words run together. My fear is evident. I become frenzied.

  Bill stands up quickly and hurries to my side.

  “You need to calm down,” He says placing his hand on my shoulder. “They will hear you.”

  I glance around the room. There is only three other people in the cafeteria besides us and all of them are sitting at the other side of the room.

  “What others?” I inquire.

  “I only see the people over there and they are not paying attention to us,” I continue.

  “You may not see them but they see you and they hear you,” He whispers.

  I try to quiet down, but I can’t. What I had witnessed will not release from my thoughts.

  “I don’t care who hears me or sees me,” I state in a heightened tone. “I want answers!”

  “Myrna, please be quiet,” Bill begs. “Things will get worse if they think you are suspicious.”

  His expression is that of compassion and concern. I take in a deep breath and listen intently to everything he has to say.

  “I want to help you, but I can not do that if you make a scene,” He insists.

  Bill leans in and wipes a tear from my cheek.

  “Let's go for that walk I promised you and I will explain to you the truth and how I can help you,” He whispers in my ear.

  He pushes his chair back and rises from the seat.

  “We will go out the back door.”

  With a kind gesture he reaches for my hand and helps me from my chair.

  As I stand up I feel a sharp pain in my arm. I instantly become lightheaded. The dizziness affects my consciousness, causing my eyes to repeatedly open and close. I become disoriented.

  “What is wrong with me?” I question in my mind.

  I glance around, There are four men standing behind me, one of which is holding a syringe in his hand.

  My body becomes limp as I fall into a deep state of unconsciousness.

  Chapter Three:

  The drug that had knocked me out the day before is still affecting me. I wake in a daze; afraid and uncertain as to where I am. The bed that I am lying on is hard and uncomfortable so I know that I am no longer in my room. I try to open my eyes but the brightness of the room captures my sight. I close my eyes for a brief moment then reopen them, repeating the ritual until my eyes can adjust to the light.

  “Where am I?” I scream out in a panic.

  I squirm about trying to move my arms and legs. Try as I might I can not move either. Someone has bound me to the bed.

  My heart skips a beat

  The last thing I remember is having breakfast with a man named Bill. We were getting ready to go outside and take a walk.

  “Did we ever go for our walk?“ I question in my mind.

  I try to think back to yesterday's events, but my thoughts continue to be jumbled.

  “Is anyone here?” I yell out.

  My question is unanswered, leaving only the sounds of medical machines beeping in the background and my own voice echoing throughout the room. The panic inside me continues to grow. My breathing becomes erratic and I find it difficult to catch my breath. Within seconds my heart jump-starts to an unhealthy beat. I feel as if I am going to faint.

  “Please someone answer me,” I beg.

  My heart continues to beat at a rapid pace. In fear that at any moment my heart will cease beating, I take in a few deep breaths.

  “You must calm yourself. Think of something pleasurable,” I think in my mind.

  I close my eyes and imagine that I am on a beach and that sounds that I hear are that of the waves breaking against the white sand.

  With time my heartbeat slows to a normal pace.

  For what seems like hours I move about in my bed in hopes that I will be able to loosen the ties that are keeping me captive. The straps do not loosen. They have made certain that I am their hostage and that there is nothing I can do about it.

  Tiring, I give in.

  I glance around.

  There are hundreds of beds in the room all occupying women same as me; pregnant, bound to their beds and hooked up to an IV and a baby monitor. Each bed is just feet away from the other. It is obvious that this room is some sort of a birthing room.

  Looking over to the bed just to the right of me, it appears that the woman is asleep.

  “Hello,” I whisper.

  The woman never moves.

  “Hello,” I state again, my voice heightening in tone.

  The woman continues dormant.

  Lifting my head as high as I can I look around. Not
a person is moving in their bed.

  “Are they dead?” I wonder to myself.

  Suddenly a deafening alarm sounds.

  “What is that horrible sound?” I scream within myself.

  Before I can state my question aloud the alarm subsides. It takes but a moment before the silence is overtaken over by inhuman grunting sounds coming from the woman beside me. As if she is not in control of her movements her body violently jerks repeatedly. Within seconds the other women in the room follow suit. They are strong and move with such aggression that I fear that they will suffer broken bones from the restraints.

  I frantically glance around. Sweat drenches their gowns and hair as fever overtakes their bodies. They are all in a fevered frenzy.

  Desperate to deafen the sounds of the others I once again try to free my arms. The restraints tighten around my wrists.

  I remain hostage to the horrific screams of the others.

  Another alarm sounds, and then everyone becomes quiet. They are all in a state of comatose again.

  “What happened here?” I hear someone ask.

  I look over to the left side of me and see that there is now two men in white jackets standing next to my bed. They are both wearing surgical masks.

  “I don’t know,” The other man answers. “Maybe we need to check the IV pump to see if it is working correctly.

  The men check the IV starting with the tube coming from the machine and into my arm, then fiddle with the buttons on the main monitor.

  “There is the problem,” one states. “ The tube has been clamped shut, so she must not have got the medicine that was released. She will have to wait until the next dose.”

  The man fiddles with the apparatus for a few minutes more then states that it is ready.

  “Where am I?” I ask.

  The men look over at me but only for a brief second, and then carry on with their task at hand.

  “I asked you a question!” I yell out. “Don’t ignore me! I want to know why I am here and why you have me tied down!”

  “You are getting ready to have your baby,” the taller one of the two men answers. “So we had to bring you here.”

  I stare at him in confusion.

  “Your not suppose to talk to her,” the other conveys.

  “I am not hurting anything,” He states. “She won’t remember anything after tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, now more panicked than ever. “Why won’t I remember anything?”

  The men ignore me.

  I ask again.

  They continue to ignore me.

  I yell as loud as I can, continuing my rant until I become parched. The dryness in my throat causes me to begin coughing uncontrollably.

  Between coughs I clear my throat until I am able to speak again.

  “I said answer me,” I demand.

  “See what you did,” the skinnier man of the two states, smacking the other on the arm. “Now we get to hear her all day.”

  His uncaring tone fuels my anger. I swallow my saliva and start yelling again.

  “Just give her the drug now, she will be out of it in seconds and won’t remember a thing,” The tall man suggests. “In fact give the bitch a double dose, that will really make her shut up.”

  “Are you sure?” The man asks. “It says here that she is getting E52. I thought she was different than the others.”

  Before another word is said I feel a burning sensation as the man releases the drug into the IV. Instantaneously a growl escapes from within me.

  Unable to control myself, my back arches from the bed all the while the rest of my body contorting in ways that should not be possible for a human being. I want to stop, but I am no longer in control of my bodily movements.

  “This was your idea! You need to stop her before she breaks her back,” The man screams.

  “And how do you suggest I do that?” the other asks.

  “I don’t know, maybe you can sit on her to keep her from bending like that!” He answers.

  “But what if she bites me or scratches me?” He continues questioning.

  “Just stay towards her legs and hold her down the best you can, just don’t hurt her or the baby!”

  The men continue to argue.

  “Let her die!”

  “We can’t. You know she is the special one!” The other man screams. “I told you she is E52!”

  Slowly crawling on top of me the man sits on my legs, taking control of my arms with his strong physique.

  I take in a deep breath with the intentions of trying to seize the anger that continues to grow inside me.

  “Mm Mm,” I think in my head. “What is that delicious smell?”

  Frenzied by the pungent aroma I move my arms around in an attempt to free my hands. I have an undying need to feed and my meal is the man sitting on top of me.

  “What is she doing?” the man screams out. “Stop her before she gets loose!”

  With the strength of ten men I rip the leather straps that bind my arms. My upper body is freed.

  “Dinner!” I scream.

  Ignoring the fresh lacerations around my wrists I lunge forward, lock my hands around his head, and pull him toward me. I open my mouth wide and take a bite of the side of his neck. His flesh rips. The aroma of the blood streaming from his neck instantly takes over the room; as his jugular vein explodes between my teeth.

  The other women in the room awaken from the smell. They scream out with hunger. They too want the meal that I am having. The silence of the room now taken over by the sounds of women in prey longing to steal my meal. I continue to bite his skin, ripping pieces from his cheek, nose and any part of him that comes in contact with my mouth.

  His last breath escapes his lungs as his heart ceases; he never stood a change beneath my strength and now he is dead.

  I sit up and with one swoop I toss him to the foot of the bed. His stomach now toward the ceiling I rip his shirt and slice into his mid section with my teeth. Now exposed, I tear into his intestines, stuffing handfuls of the bloody goodness into my mouth. Chewing as fast as I can, I continue to devour every last bit of what his stomach once housed.

  Glancing up for only a second. I realize that there are now at least five men surrounding my bed, three of which are trying to pull the lifeless body of the man from my hands. Holding tightly onto the man with one hand, I scratch toward others. One by one I dig deep into their skin with my nails. Within seconds all five men have backed away from the bed, blood seeping from their wounds.

  “Why isn’t the sedative working?” One screams out as he inserts a needle into the tube of the IV.

  “She has ripped her IV out! Give it to her directly and do it now, the straps on her legs are breaking!”

  “No!,” I snarl.

  Grabbing the man with the syringe, I rip his arm from his body. Blood gushes from the bloody nub, showering the other men with the red serum. The man drops to the floor. He now lies in a pool of his own blood. I throw his arm down; hitting the man in the chest.

  I growl.

  “Why did you tell him to do that?” One man screams. “You know we all have already been infected!”

  “In just a few minutes we will all be like the others.” another man conveys. “There was no reason for him to suffer like that.”

  “It doesn't matter,” The largest of the men states. “It only takes minutes after being scratched or bitten to become infected and come back as one of the “Creetions. Especially if they just received a dose of the drug.”

  “But she is E52.”

  “True, she is “E52”. But she is also a Creetion and so therefore she carries the disease and can infect others.” He continues.

  The man points at me.

  Interested in what they are saying I try to concentrate on their every word, but my mind refuses to ignore the man lying on my bed. The man’s flesh is no longer enticing to me, in fact I am finding the mutilated body the utmost revolting.

  With all the power I posses
s I push him off the bed and then stare down at the mattress. There is so much blood that not a spec of white is left on the sheets nor the mattress. I push the top sheet off the bed and try to find a spot on the mattress that is not covered in his blood; I need to wipe the bodily mess off my hands. Continuing to fling my hands outward, I attempt to get as much of his blood off of my hands that I can. My efforts are futile, an abundance of the serum remains.

  “What is happening to me?” I cry out, the drug that had fed me such hatred and hunger moments before is wearing off.

  Disgusted by the site I lay back and close my eyes, allowing my emotions to consume me. As the drug continues to weaken in my system my memory of recent events escapes my mind.

  Suddenly I feel the warmth of another as someone touches my ankle. Someone is loosening the straps around my legs.

  I glance up and see a darkened figure, the persons face is shadowed by the bright lights behind him.

  “Are you here to help me?” I ask.

  “Yes I am,” he answers.

  As I sit up the bright lights no longer mask his identity. I touch his face. Blood from my hands smear onto his cheeks.

  The site of the blood on his face frightens me.

  “Why are you bleeding?” I ask, panicked.

  “I’m not, the blood is from your hands,” He answers.

  In a daze I glance down at my hands. He is right the blood on his face has come from my hands.

  “Am I bleeding?” I ask.

  “No honey, it came from someone else,” He answers.

  I glance down at the ground and see the men that are lying on the floor, each of them bleeding from various parts of their body. My heart skips a beat. Had I killed these men or had he?

  “Who are you?” I cry. “And why did you do this?”

  “I am your husband, He states.

  As the drug continues to weaken in my body my mind becomes clearer and with great concentration I am able to recognize the handsome man standing in front of me. He is my husband.

  “Of course,” I state, smiling. “Your name is David.”

  He smiles indicating that I am correct.

  He leans forward and whispers in my ear. “You have to listen to me,” He states quickly. “You are not bleeding; you are okay. You are on a military base. They are doing an experiment here and you are a very important part of it.”