Authors: Steven Spellman
Tags: #Fiction, #government, #science fiction, #futuristic, #apocalyptic, #virus, #dystopian
“Would you mind doing me a
special favor, Doctor? Let me spend some time with Delilah and see
what was going on. If you do that for me I promise to be on my best
behavior.” Geoffrey gestured with his hand as if he were crossing
his heart. “I’ll be very careful to not pose a threat.”
Geoffrey hadn’t been in
Delilah’s room for ten seconds before he was given an example of
the ‘moodiness’ the doctor had cryptically alluded to. When he
walked in, Delilah was sitting on the edge of her bed staring at
Lieutenant Dan, who was seated stoically in the same little
foldable chair and in the same position as always, but when she saw
Geoffrey, she leapt up and rushed to him, burying her face in his
chest and sobbing pitifully.
After a short time of
this, she shoved him away and shouted, “Where have you been?”
before again burying her face in his chest and sobbing again.
Geoffrey held her and rubbed her back cautiously. He hazarded a
glance toward Dr. Crangler and was answered with a raised eyebrow
and a facial expression that said clearly, ‘this is what I warned
you of.’ If there was ever a time when Geoffrey felt he needed his
mind reading powers, it was now. He didn’t know what to say or do,
so he wisely said nothing, and continued to hold Delilah while
gently rubbing her back.
Fortunately, after several
long minutes, she calmed down, and the two of them sat on her bed.
Lieutenant Dan looked on like a massive, uniformed stone gargoyle,
and Geoffrey tried to make sure that Delilah remained distracted
from him as much as possible. Neither spoke for a few moments, and
it was she who eventually broke the silence. “I don’t know what’s
going on with me, Geoffrey. I feel so, I don’t know, out of whack.”
She glared at Dr. Crangler, then at Lieutenant Dan. “I’m sure it’s
the
shit
they’ve
been giving me.” Geoffrey saw that things were not progressing in a
healthy direction by the way Delilah’s face was becoming more
distorted the more she thought about the ‘shit’ that had been
administered to her. Still not sure what to say, if anything at
all, Geoffrey just pulled Delilah back into his arms and held her.
Dr. Crangler eventually left the room, but not without giving
Geoffrey a quick nod to remain cautious. Now, only Delilah,
Geoffrey, and Lieutenant Dan were left in the room. Seeing that
Delilah was unwilling to remain calm with him so close, Geoffrey
asked the lieutenant general if he would kindly move to a corner of
the room further away, and was answered with a simple head shake.
Geoffrey would’ve tried again, but he knew the extra effort would
be futile. The lieutenant general would not be worn down like Dr.
Crangler. If he was willing to let the most important woman in the
world at the moment piss herself in the back of a cargo truck
before he would disobey a direct order, then certainly he wouldn’t
move an inch now to disobey one.
Instead, Geoffrey led
Delilah to the other side of the bed where they sat down with their
backs to the general. This seemed to work well for her. “How ‘bout
we get you cleaned up?” He said, once they were seated, “You know,
get that pretty hair of yours done up nicely…not that you need it
of course, you’re absolutely gorgeous right now.” He added quickly,
seeing Delilah’s head start back and her eyebrows raise in mock
offense. After which, her head returned to its former position and
her expression smoothed out, much to Geoffrey’s relief. She
chuckled lightly before laughing outright.
“No, you’re right.” She
said, with genuine mirth, “I do need something done with this.” She
worried her hair in intimation. Without warning, silent tears began
to roll down her cheeks, even though a smile was still on her
lips.
“Please, Delilah, I didn’t
mean it. Really.” Geoffrey answered, growing more confused and
alarmed.
“No, no. It’s not that.
Like I said, I’m just not feeling like myself. I don’t even know
why I’m crying. Really. It’s that…that…”
“Okay,
okay.” Geoffrey interrupted quickly, since any thought of ‘that
shit’ on Delilah’s part would certainly mean anti-progress. “Well,
would you like a fresh styling?” Delilah made a face, as if
thinking the offer over and it didn’t sound too appealing. “How
about a fresh style
and
a facial?” Geoffrey asked and was met with the
same playfully bored expression. “How about a fresh styling,
and
a facial,
and
a foot
rub?”
“Now you’re talking.” Was
the jovial reply.
“Well, it might take a
little doing, you know,” Geoffrey gestured with his head “with King
Kangaroo and all over there.” Delilah’s smile widened even more.
“But we’ll see what we can do.”
He did ‘see what he could
do’, for the rest of the day, in fact, while trying not to let
Lieutenant Dan’s bulky presence haunt his fellow patient. For the
better part of the day at least every other day, he and Delilah
were together, but, though their initial meeting had been partially
his doing, the current arrangement was all thanks to Delilah. She
caused such a fuss for so many days, that to not give her what she
wanted was deemed more dangerous to the fetus developing within her
by Dr. Crangler’s superiors, than the alternative.
As the months passed,
things continued on a more or less even keel. Delilah’s belly began
to bulge noticeably with her growing unborn and Dr. Crangler and
his staff’s testing and caretaking was as faithful and frequent as
ever in an effort to make sure the mother-to-be was as healthy and
without defect as absolutely possible. As always, Lieutenant Dan
was unnervingly present at his post. More than once, Delilah
thought to demand a female guard over the brutish looking
lieutenant general (since it was obvious that the powers that be
would not allow her to go about her business without some kind of
imposing figure always inhabiting her room), but she never put
words to the demand. Besides, it would’ve never been allowed, and
for the same reason that it had never been articulated. Delilah was
the one and only female on the face of the planet not infected with
The Virus. No other female would ever be allowed to be in close
proximity of her as she could possibly be infected. There were, in
fact, no females even allowed on the entire underground complex.
Now, it had already been demonstrated that The Virus changed so
radically once it found a host that it could’ve only been spread
from the initial infected fragment, not from person to person,
which was precisely why Delilah’s newborn’s blood could possibly be
used as a cure. But, as can only be expected, no one was willing to
take that chance, anyway.
Chapter 30
Delilah was in her eighth
month of pregnancy now and the world outside was still raging and
otherwise continuing its decline into complete anarchy and decay.
Those who didn’t succumb to the depression of losing so many loved
ones to The Virus and committed suicide (which was at an all-time
high), burned, pillaged, maimed, and even killed, but still found
no reprieve for their anger and hopelessness. Not even the military
complex was immune to the chaos. It was so well hidden and bordered
by a doubly reinforced and foliage overgrowth that made it
difficult to tell that anything was there at all, that it hadn’t
been stormed yet by the raging masses. However, it wasn’t so well
hidden that it wasn’t stumbled upon by an unfortunate few. In a
completely unprecedented move, American civilians were gunned down
on American soil for wandering too near the base, then their bodies
were carried far away. As unbelievable as it was, such a move had
been authorized by the president of the United States, but anyone
witnessing the chaos that currently encompassed the globe would’ve
understood why such a drastic move was absolutely
necessary.
Had the general public (or
what was left of it) discovered that a government installation lay
beyond the huge, vine covered embankments outside the city’s
limits, the angry masses would’ve certainly fallen against its
formidable walls until they stormed it like they had all the other
government buildings. Unfortunately, it could not be revealed that
that hope even existed as desperate people of all shapes and sizes,
family and friends of those now pregnant and yet to perish, would
storm the base with equal rapidity, clamoring to secure a cure for
their loved ones, even though it was not yet time. The result would
be the same; destruction and chaos and the ruin of the world’s only
possible savior.
Inside the complex, and
especially in the underground facility, tensions were high and
nerves were stretched to their limit. Besides Delilah’s
highly-fluctuating mood swings, which were already elevated to
maddening proportions by her pregnancy, and then furthered by the
medicine administered to aid that pregnancy, things had progressed
without any major complications. She was in her 33rd week, three
weeks before the baby boy was to be induced into this world. Doctor
Crangler wanted to ensure ‘fetal viability’ so that they would have
a healthy baby and a better chance of survival, but then it all
changed. She had been moved to a larger room where a small army of
special machines could monitor everything from her vital signs, to
her blood pressure, to her brain waves, to the humidity of the
environment, in an effort to make sure everything was perfect for
the impending birth. She had demanded, with undeniable fervor, that
Geoffrey be there every day, and so a separate bed had been set for
him for that purpose. It was highly unorthodox to have him in the
room with her, but with it being so late in the game and the home
team so close to the winning goal, everyone wanted to make sure
Delilah was as satisfied as she could be. No one could tolerate
another of her outbursts, but more importantly, everyone needed her
vitals to remain within bounds and not complicate
things.
It was mid-day outside the
underground facility, and inside, Delilah was sitting nearly
upright in a special bed that had been built and fabricated
especially for her. It was spacious, lined with ultra-thick Temper
material, and completely mechanical. It moved in six sections that
could all be adjusted to any degree imaginable. It was more
comfortable and luxurious that anything Delilah had experienced,
even in her previous life. The Temper material was even lined with
special energized nylon strips so the bed itself could be made warm
at the touch of a button. Delilah was playing with one of the
control units just now. Besides Geoffrey, Dr. Crangler, and
Lieutenant Dan (of course), were also in the room. Geoffrey was in
a plush chair beside Delilah’s mega modern bed. She insisted that
it calmed her to have him near, so the chair had been set up so he
could be within arm’s reach any time she wanted. He was within
arm’s reach now, sleeping soundly. His head was strewn back on a
cushion and a faint snore was coming from his partially opened
mouth.
Though he appeared to be
enjoying pleasant dreams, he certainly was not. In his slumbering
mind, he was on a strange planet, looking at the same grotesquely
distorted figures, that he had absentmindedly sketched on his
Styrofoam food tray many months ago. For some reason, he’d been
having this same dream ever since he started laboring to not use
his telepathy. It was as if not releasing his mounting abilities
was causing them to build up inside him and this was the result.
The dream was always varying in clarity, much more vague at first,
to the point that he could only make out shadows of deformed
images, but it became clearer with every passing dream. Now, he
could see the aliens clearly. As he continued to stifle his
telepathy as best he could, certain other things about the dreams
became clearer as well. Soon, he knew that he was on a very
different planet than Earth and surrounded by a different stratum
of beings than the ones on Earth. He also knew that he wasn’t
moving. He was always in the same place, but that place was never
well defined. It was like he was everywhere and nowhere on the
planet at once. How he
knew
all this was beyond his ability to describe. He
knew it, and that was that. As this strange reoccurring dream
clearer, he began to hear voices, a trillion voices, all in unison,
but also not voices, not even sounds, rather, a
being
. The being—whatever it was—was
not talking to him, but
infusing
him with knowledge, common knowledge of some
sort, but nothing he could remember once he awoke because it was
too foreign to him. He thought little of it: The last two years of
his life had been filled with so many strange things that an
unusual dream just didn’t stand out much. This particular time, it
was different.
He woke up with a start
and looked around; everyone was there. He gestured to Dr. Crangler,
who, at the moment, was administering a final dose of ‘that shit’
to Delilah. The doctor finished up, ungloved his hands, and came
over to see what the problem was.
“We need to talk.”
Geoffrey whispered, which was completely ineffective. The room was
deathly quiet and completely soundproof besides, so his low whisper
resonated clearly to everyone in the room. It didn’t matter, this
was important, as he animatedly assured the doctor when he answered
that he was too busy at the moment for a private
conversation.
“Geoffrey, I have more
tests to…”
“This can’t wait.”
Geoffrey’s voice rose, even though he was trying desperately to
remain calm. The doctor didn’t know it just yet but Geoffrey had
just realized that his dreams were not dreams at all, but something
akin to out of body experiences, where he would end up on the alien
planet from which The Virus had been sent. The ‘knowledge’ he was
receiving, though it was no good to him since he couldn’t decipher
it yet, was the common knowledge being constantly broadcast to the
central alien intelligence’s varying housings, like one of the ones
the doctor had been working on for some time. It was a major
breakthrough, but not one he was willing to discuss with anyone
other than the doctor just yet. Of course, if he had just said
this, the doctor would’ve immediately asked Lieutenant Dan to leave
the room, or more likely, he would’ve immediately whisked Geoffrey
off somewhere they could talk, but Geoffrey didn’t elaborate
because he didn’t want Lieutenant Dan to hear. Dr. Crangler had
already warned him of what would happen to him if his superiors
ever got word of Geoffrey’s telepathic abilities, and he was not
too keen on being experimented upon like the alien that he feared
he was becoming.