Category: works in progress

The final segment:

Brodie sat in a narrow chair built more for function than comfort. For reasons beyond his understanding Doctor Wilberman had asked him to stop by his office. He was sure it had something to do with the clone who had recently confronted him in the men’s room.

“He didn’t say anything at all?” Doctor Wilberman asked as he worked to keep his pipe lit.

“They can’t speak,” Brodie assured him, sticking to the proper narrative, it was safer that way, for him at least. He recognized the clone as the assistant manager of a co-op his grandfather used to take him to when he was a small child. Reminding him of a man who went missing when he was a teen. Several years before the restrictions on cloning were lifted.

“True,” Doctor Wilberman said as he exhaled a cloud of smoke and flipped through the file lying open on his desk. “There are some who believe a bit of the past remains with the cells we use to create these clones. Are you sure he didn’t say anything?” Doctor Wilberman said as he continued flipping through the pages of the report, “according to the foreman’s report the clone in question tried to speak to him in the mess hall.”

Brodie shrugged, his fingers working along the edge of his hat, hidden below the lip of the doctor’s desk. It wouldn’t do for them to see how nervous he was. While cloning was now legal, it hadn’t always been that way, and he remembered a time when several of the larger corporate farms operated outside the law in that regard.

“He didn’t say a word sir, he tried to, but nothing came out.”

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely.”

“Did you recognize him?”

“Why would I recognize him? Aren’t all the clones taken from the same cell source?”

“They are, but every so often a mutation occurs, such as it did here.”

“If you say so sir, you know more about this stuff than I do.”

“Very well then,” Doctor Wilberman said as he closed the file, “if there’s anything else I need to ask I’ll be in touch.”

“Can I go now?” Brodie said as he moved to get up, he couldn’t wait to get out from under the doctor’s scrutiny. If he did admit to recognizing this particular batch of clones what would happen to him?

“You’re free to go,” the doctor said and Brodie got out of the office as fast as he could. He was halfway across the compound when he saw the latest batch coming in from the fields. Each one of them reminded him of that manager who had gone missing nearly thirty years before and he wondered how he was going to keep his mouth shut while working around them every day. On the other hand who could he say anything to? Cloning was now legal, and while it might have been safe to reveal what he knew, there were no absolutes. He’d felt a connection with the clone, a recognition of his plight, and as he watched them moved across the compound he worried another one might try to make contact with him.

This completes the story I AM. Join me next week when I begin a new short story. I’ve been itching to go a lot darker than the past stories so we’ll have to wait and see what I come up with. The letter will be J, and that opens up so many possibilities.

Gus backed away from the three men, then turned and fled towards the only building that had any color in his featureless world.

“He’s got a gun, get him.” He heard the shouts behind him as he fled across the open ground. A farmhand appeared at the door before him, his relaxed features giving way to sudden surprise when he found himself staring down the muzzle of the pistol as Gus pushed past him into the interior of the building.

He stopped just inside the door, his wavy reflection stretched out at his feet in the surface of the highly polished floor. A door stood to his right and as approaching footsteps came from around the bend in the hallway before him, trapped between them and the pounding footsteps that were fast approaching behind him, he slipped into the room.

Beyond the door, on his right, stood a row of stalls. Gray walls wrapped around toilets to afford the user a degree of privacy. Opposite the stalls was a row of white porcelain sinks and above each was a mirror.

Gus was drawn to the mirror, having never seen himself as much as he could recall, the sound of movement in one of the stalls interrupted him and he spun around with the pistol leveled at the door as a farmhand emerged from within the stall. It was the one he recognized as Brodie and he stepped towards him. His hands spread in a questioning manner as Brodie backed away.

Gus grunted, unable to make any other sound, his hand once more going to the puckered wound on his neck, he could feel the stitches with his fingers.

“Don’t hurt me, please,” Brodie said as he backed away.

From the corner of his eye Gus caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror to his right as Brodie backed towards the door. It drew him like a moth to a flame and with Brodie forgotten he spun around to look at himself in the mirror. What he saw gazing back at him was the same face he’d seen upon his arrival.

Short sandy hair crowning a face that formed a near perfect circle with wide spaced eyes, and a pug nose above a thin mouth.

No!

It couldn’t be, it wasn’t possible, he wasn’t one of them. He had a wife, kids, a home. He had been the assistant manager of a farmers co-op. His finger went to his throat, he fel that puckered wound, the stitches protruding from his flesh. But when he looked in the mirror all he saw was the unblemished skin of his neck.

No!

A commotion at the door drew his attention and he turned to confront several farmhands pushing their way through the door with weapons aimed in his direction. He lifted the pistol and aimed the shaking muzzle at them. Bullets ripped through tender flesh, spinning him around and he fell face first towards the floor, his last thoughts clinging to the notion that it had all been a terrible mistake.

To be continued!

I began work on this little tale more years ago than I care to admit. In the interim the story became lost when an old computer quit working. I remember at the time that I felt the story was beyond my capabilities. I feel confident now that I may be able to do the story justice.

Disclaimer: I understand it’s not possible for a memory from a donor to appear in a clone. But when you’re writing, you enter the world of what if, where everything is possible.

Without further adieu I give you the first 600 words of

I Am!

He became aware of his surroundings in increments.

The tireless voice of a wheel humming on pavement, punctuated by the rhythmic slap of a seam in the roadway that came like the steady tick of a metronome measuring the passing moments. The rocking motion of the vehicle in which he was a prisoner, wearing through the skin at the tips of his shoulder blades pressed against cold, unyielding, steel.

The air around him was heavy with the scent of unwashed bodies, and though his eyes were open, he saw nothing but the bleak emptiness of despair.

Where am I? What have they done to me?

A cough came from above, a grunt from the left. With shaking hands, he explored his prison and found he was sitting in a corner, his hips twisted to one side with his legs curled beneath him. Other sounds intruded upon his terror, adding to the panic slowly nibbling its way through him. He struggled to bring it under control, to try and reason out this problem, but could find no plausible explanation for what was happening to him. At this his panic roared to life as he tried to reign it in. If he let it go, he would turn into a raving lunatic battering its flesh against unyielding steel. He had to center himself if he hoped to survive.

Bringing his emotions under control, he realized there were others with him.

But where was here?

Warm fluid trickled onto his chest, several drops splashing into his mouth to leave a bitter taste as the overpowering odor of urine washed over him, tainted with the sharp tang of shit. He held up his hand to shield his face, his fingers pressing against warm flesh in a tangled mass of coarse hair. His hand brushed against a fleshy appendage and he grabbed it.

Stars filled the darkness as a hard hand slapped his face and he released his hold to retreat into the corner.

Who are they? What are they?

They were trapped, all of them, living in their own waste as the night stretched into forever.

The last thing he remembered was leaving his office to check on the sound of voices coming from the loading area. The Co-Op, where he’d been the assistant manager for the past three months had been closed for nearly an hour when the sound of the big steel door going up interrupted him as he was counting the till.

Normally he would have been gone by then, but his wife had called frantic over a report of someone breaking into their neighbor’s house. It had taken Gus the better part of an hour to settle her down, reassuring her as best he could, promising he would be home soon. The memory of that promise, now broken, sent a pang of guilt shooting through him.

How long has it been?

Here, time held no meaning.

In the loading area he had come upon two drivers throwing bags of shelled corn into the back of one of the company trucks. The deliveries had been made for the day so the only explanation for what they were doing was theft. If you’re going to take the risk of stealing something, why shelled corn? he wondered.

He never got the chance to ask for as he approached them, and they stood up from their task, the younger of the two glanced over his left shoulder. Someone was coming up behind him and as he turned to confront this new threat darkness descended around him with an abrupt finality. 

Why?

To be continued!

This week the short story titled, Brothers, was sent to my newsletter. It’s a story much like this one that was born in my desire to write a series of alphabet stories. The title of each beginning with a letter from the alphabet. I Am! will be the ninth story when it is eventually finished. What you see on my blog is the raw, unedited version. What my subscribers receive is the fully polished and edited version of each story. The stories are sent every other month. During the off months I share a full chapter from one of my works in progress, of which there are currently three.

If you’d like to sign up for my newsletter, follow the link below and you will get full access to every story and chapter sent since I got serious about following through. You will also receive a full length novel only available to my subscribers. You can’t buy this book anywhere else.

Synopsis: Jimmy and his friends have come to the roof of their apartment building to watch the passage of the comet Omega9. Little do they know the dust from the comet contains ancient organisms that are about to turn their world upside down.

They’re already dealing with tough times, but things get even crazier when Robert’s mom is attacked by his dad and turns into a zombie. This is only the first act in a chain of events that plunges the world into the zombie apocalypse. Forcing the boys to figure out how to survive in this new, terrifying reality.

Trapped between the undead, and the evil living in the building, their future becomes more perilous until Robert makes a startling discovery in the basement. In the end it’s all about survival, friendship, and facing their fears as they fight to protect each other and their home.