Chapter 43- Whit's End

"That is your mother?" The doctor asked in shock. "Wow, I am really sorry." His eyes moved back and forth from my face to the monster behind the glass, as though looking for a family resemblance. I only stood about a foot away from her, separated by the two inch thick polymer, yet I felt so distant. I was actually surprised. I never thought i would see her again, but assumed if I did that it would hurt more. I assumed this moment, if it ever came, would have filled me with dread and caused my whole world to come crashing around me. Instead, I felt nothing. It was like emotional novacaine had been injected into my heart. Perhaps it because the monster in front of me barely resembled my mother. Perhaps I was in shock.

She tore at the glass with her fingers, leaving behind traces of some gelatinous ooze on the pane.  Her teeth tried to bite the surface, as though she was trying chew her way through it to get to me.

She paused for a moment and then lunged at the glass, startling me from my blank stare. With renewed ferocity she tore at the pane, determined to find a way to get to me. I noticed a split in her skull where she had collided with the glass, and dark blood dripped out of the crack in her aged skin, congealing quickly as it hit the air. I took a step backward, which eased my tension just enough to ask a few questions. "How long has she been here?" I inquired, not able to look away from the horrific face mauling itself against the glass. The doctor's voice dropped, his tone filled with respect. "She's been here about a week. We found her roaming the woods on the north side of town. She was heading right for a small condo community. If we hadn't caught her when we did..." his voice trailed off, uncertain as to the effect this might have on me. "Are you okay?" I fought the tears that came unexpectedly to my eyes. "I'm not quite sure what to feel." He didn't reply.

A crash upstairs drew our attention to the door at the top of the catwalk. We could hear voices yelling and as the door slid open a large man wearing one of the hazmat suits stumbled through, wrestling with a long pole. As he stepped out onto the catwalk I could see he struggled to maintain control of something attached to a long pole. As he led the pole out of the clean room i could see a harness fastened tightly around the neck of a middle age man with writhing hands and yellow eyes. The man was tall and solidly built, and as he moved out of the room I could see there were two more poles attached to the collar, held by large men in hazmat suits, bracing him from behind. They moved carefully down the wide stairs as he thrashed uncontrollably. He didn't seem to be struggling to get loose but to grab those who restrained him, but even with his long, muscular arms it was no use. They guided him carefully down the stairs and positioned him into the middle of a square painted on the floor. A clear acrylic cube waited silently from the ceiling. A young woman with long brown hair came down the stairs. She wore a mask over her nose and mouth and clear, yellow tinted protective eyewear. She carried two padded restraints connected by a chain. She approached the beast confidently but cautiously, a wide smile on her face. Crouching down, she lifted one end of a long steel bar from the ground and propped it under the pole held by one of the men. She moved in a slow circle, keeping her eyes on the flailing arms. She pulled a second and third bar from the floor, bracing them under each pole held by the men. Once they had the leverage, the men pushed down on their poles simultaneously, lifting the monster up off the ground. His feet began to kick and flail about, fruitlessly trying to gain some sort of footing. The woman looked back at us, gave me a wink, and then got down on her hands and knees. She dodged to avoid the kicking feet, connecting one side of the ankle restraints to a bolt sticking out of the floor. Reaching up, she deftly wrapped one of the restraints around the first leg, pulling a thick black zip tie to secure it in place. The monster was furious at being contained, and as he tried to force his head to look down at her the thick collar wrapped securely around his neck gave the skin on his neck the almost comical appearance of double chins. His hands abandoned their attempt to remove the poles, and instead reached for her, pointlessly swinging back and forth, fingers flexed like deadly claws. Ignoring the extra attention, she rapidly attached the second restraint and pulled the zip tie tight. The beast was now stretched from head to foot, effectively immobilized and only his arms free to move and swing. "That's Whitney," the doctor said, a hint of pride in his voice. "She's one of the lab techs here, and helped design this restraint system." I watched as she stood up just a few inches from the reaching hands of the monster, smiling at him as though she felt perfectly safe. She seemed to actually enjoy what she did, something I was not sure I would have the courage, nor the stomach, to attempt. She turned and stepped outside the painted square and gave the men holding the poles a nod. They each clicked a button on the end of their poles and the clasps on the neck harness immediately released. The monster dropped to the ground and tried to lunge forward. Tripping on its ankle restraints it crashed to the floor. Whitney looked up toward the observation room at the top of the stairs and made a quick gesture. The acrylic cube lowered slowly down over the monster until the heavy plexiglass connected with the concrete floor. The men in suits filed back upstairs, laughing jovially and smacking themselves on the backs, bragging to each other about another successful capture.

The lab tech approached the two of us and pointed at me casually. "Who's this?" She asked the doctor with a smile. Even through the clear plastic of her mask her smile was contagious, and I couldn't help but smile back, despite the feeling of emptiness in my heart. The doctor gestured toward the cube behind us and said in a somber tone, "This is Z-19's son." Her smile faded immediately and her eyes turned to mine. "I'm so sorry," she said with genuine sympathy. "I can't imagine what you are going through right now." She looked back at the doctor. "This is the first time we've actually encountered a relative, does this change anything?" She asked. I looked over at him, curious to her meaning. "What is she talking about?" The doctor shook his head reassuringly. "I already explained how we have been trying to find a cure, how we've been trying various remedies in an attempt to find a way to not just stop the process, but reverse it." Whitney looked back at me and finished his sentence. "We've not been hampered by ethical entanglements... until now." She looked at my mother in the cube behind us. "So far they've just been mindless monsters that would snuff out our lives at the earliest opportunity. No offense." She looked at me with a nervous smile, unsure as to how I would react. I could sense their trepidation, probably wondering whether I would demand they release my mother, or refuse to allow them to experiment on her. "Don't worry about me." I reassured her. "It seems like you are one of the few groups out here who not only understand what is going on, but are trying to do something about it." They both looked relieved, and the doctor nodded to Whitney, who smiled and briskly departed up the stairs.

The doctor chose his next words carefully. "So are you okay with further tests? We are trying to find a cure, you know..." He waited, watching my face to read my emotions. "I know what's happened to her. I don't have any delusions about her current state. She had a wonderful life and when she disappeared I didn't think I would see her again." I looked over at the monster behind the glass. "When I look at that I know it's not my mother, but if something you do could find a cure for other people, I think she would want that. I might not like seeing what she's become, but in a way it's closure. Part of me always worried she was still out there, hurting people. At least in here she can do some good." He seemed satisfied and we walked upstairs together. We proceeded through the clean room and into the next area without speaking. As we removed the suits silently I could tell he wanted to get back the cheerful banter we had enjoyed earlier, but wasn't sure where to start. I didn't feel like talking, so I didn't bother making eye contact.

We walked out into the cavernous room and were met by the shopkeeper who had led me down from the army surplus store. He was waiting patiently, almost greedily, and I could tell he assumed the cube farm would seal my decision to invest in one of his condos. His face fell as he saw us and gave the doctor a look that seemed to say "What happened?" I saw the doctor gesture toward him, probably signaling that an attempt to sell me a house might not be a wise idea. The shopkeeper lowered his eyes and took a step backward, letting us pass him without saying a word. "I have to go address something." The doctor said to me quietly. "Would you mind waiting over there?" He gestured toward the children's playground where a few park benches sat under some potted trees. As I sat down I saw him duck into the nearest house with the shopkeeper.

It felt like I was buying a used car. I had spent way more time down here than I planned to, and all I wanted was to leave. Now the salesman was off consulting with his manager and would no doubt come at me with some final offer that I was supposed to feel too good about to refuse. I dreaded these situations in my normal life, and being forced into them now made me almost angry, but my manners and a feeling of uncertainty about their reaction to my disappearance kept me reluctantly glued to the bench.

I watched the kids playing with each other carelessly. They ran in circles, climbing up the ladder and then coasting down the slide. Over and over again they laughed and played. How nice it must be not to worry, to have no knowledge of the impending doom. "You're jealous of their innocence, aren't you?" I was startled by the voice of the lab technician, Whitney, who sat down on the bench next to me. I studied her, wondering if this was part of the sales pitch. She was very pretty and had a simple, clean honesty in her face. Her eyes held wisdom and experience, yet her smile was optimistic, untainted by time and circumstances. "They're plotting in there, you know." I did my best to give her a quizzical look. "Nice try." She said. "I can tell you know what's going on here." I opened my mouth in protest and then gave up. "It's an elaborate sales process, I know." I confessed. "And as amazing and safe as it is, there's no way I'd ever invest in something like this. Maybe later, if things get worse, but I have my own plans." She laughed a little, as though my "plans" we're humorous. "Like what? Live with Tracy in a storage unit?" She turned and looked at me plainly. "You know you guys won't survive in there. You only have enough supplies to last a few months, and if this really is the end of the world, well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be facing an army of those things with only 20 gauge corrugated metal to protect me." I stared in shock. "How did you..." She smiled at me, satisfied that her knowledge of my plans disarmed me. "We know more than you realize." She said, handing me her ID badge. Below her picture was a logo of a beaker with the words "VL Labs" written next to it. "And we're actually here to help."