Chapter a Rain

Iggy held tight in the farthest dark corner until the following day when Jay, the fat lard of a guard, came through the door and took over Robert's place. As Jay made the few steps down the hallway to the chair, his breathing labored and his legs wobbled him side to side. Huffing, he reached his hand behind his back, barely, and pulled a thick rope of cherry flavored candy out of his back pocket just before he sat down. When he bit into the candy, the taste filled the air.

The sweet sugar and sour cherry smell made Iggy want to hurl.

Jay sat there munching away on the sweet poison until the main metal door clanked open from the opposite side a few hours before his shift was to end. He straightened his round neck and watched silently as the edge of a gurney whacked the metal door repeatedly, as it pulled in and out, struggling to fit through.

There were clean bare feet on top of the mattress, which struck Iggy as rather odd. So far, the infected woman, who was now far past "hard-to-the-touch," was thrown in as a ragged mess. The decomposing corpse was also very far from ideal health when he arrived. Iggy could hardly imagine what he, himself, had looked like coming as well.

But, the person tightly strapped on top of the gurney was clean, mostly naked, and silenced by a piece of tape across his mouth. His skin wasn't bruised, blistered, or cut. It was untouched. As the gurney worked its way through, the doctor pushing it forward, with his white jacket and khaki pants, stood out amongst the grimy walls like a white banner. "Guard," he called in a high tone. "Guard! Guard! Guard! Please help!" Jay didn't move a muscle. He was a fat piece of lazy shit that wouldn't even be flushed down the toilet without a sandwich. Iggy despised every tiny aspect of him, and Jay hadn't even said a word to deserve it. The doctor whined and demanded all at once, "help me!"

Robert appeared behind him, and said, "sure Doc." He took hold of the gurney, lifted up a corner and slid it into the hallway easily. He walked around the gurney, locked the wheel and stood facing the suspicious doctor like a barrier between him and the cells. "It's weird for doctors to come down here. What's this all about?"

Instead of answering Robert's question, the doctor smiled and looked around his shoulder into the cells behind him, searching for something. Iggy scrambled his limbs in toward his body and crawled into the back corner of the cell, just in case. It was dark, and even though the shadows had abandoned him, he believed that he could be hidden well enough anyway.

Robert straightened his neck and lifted his shoulders to obstruct the doctor's view. "What are you looking for, Doc?"

The two met eyes for only a second, then the doctor stepped to the side and continued searching the cells. He walked up to Iggy's cell and peered inside. In the dark back corner he spotted a vague outline of a white clothed person huddling into the wall. His hands met one another over his chest and his eyes shimmered with glee. He bent his knees and squatted before the barred wall. His stare pried Iggy, while his wide open smile gawked at him. "Hello, Subject 17," he said. "I am ecstatic to see you're still breathing."

The atmosphere became warmer, yet not in any sort of comfortable way. It was Iggy's blood boiling. Wanting nothing more than to disappear, he propped up his knees and hid his face beneath his forearms. He became smaller, collapsing under the hopelessness and fear. The loss of his identity.

The doctor's head tilted and his smile narrowed into a cocky smirk. "Subject 17? Are you phased out? Was all of that time spent starving for nothing? I was told it took eight days or so. Even I, a healthy uninfected man, wouldn't have been able to last that long without water." He turned his head to the other side and looked up at Robert. "This one is special," he said, pointing into the cell.

Robert glanced down at the man on the gurney, then walked past him and joined the doctor's side in front of Iggy's cell. He stared down at the top of his head. "What's this all about? What are you doing down here?"

The doctor looked over at him and held eye contact longer than he had done before. His long finger extended and he pointed at Iggy even more directly. "I have an interest in this one. Do you know why?" His eyes narrowed and his smile reopened, playfully. Tired and unimpressed, Robert simply shook his head side to side. "You aren't even going to guess why? Even down here you must have heard the rumors by now."

Robert shrugged his shoulders and gazed back passively. "Rumors are just rumors."

The smug doctor stood upright. "What I tell you is not a rumor. This specimen was successful in the Foe to Friend trial."

"Hmmm," Robert scratched his chin through his beard. "So, I've heard. But I'm wondering, what's with the guy on the bed?"

Full of arrogant confidence, the doctor tilted his chin outward. Little did he know, Robert was staring at his chin, dreaming of breaking it. "Well, I'll tell you, Mister... Guard?"

Robert's eyes winced, almost blinking. His voice tightened. "Robert."

"Yes… Robert. That guy is a newly admitted patron of the reversal program. And Subject 17 has the most recent virus mutation. Theoretically, if I can develop an antibiotic for his virus strain, it will work on all of them." The doctor shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "It's more of a hobby, though. To keep busy. I don't have much going on up there right now."

Robert cleared his throat just in time to interrupt. "Why do you think Sub 17 has the newest virus strain?"

The doctor's shoulders straightened and he showcased his white teeth. "Oh, you're curious now, aren't you? I'm suddenly enjoying you." He pointed up at the ceiling. "We have the one who infected him upstairs. After doing a DNA test, we found that the two are blood relatives, most likely half-brothers." Iggy's stiff hands felt for the floor beneath him. He crawled his way toward the barred wall like a mouse, not to draw attention, but to hear every word the doctor was saying. "The relative claims that subject 17 was infected only a few weeks ago, making him the youngest patient we have ever had from an original bloodline."

"What do you mean?" Robert replied.

The doctor intertwined his fingers before his chest and he inhaled deeply. "Even though it reeks in here, and he's filthy, I'm sure that even you can smell the freshness still." He chuckled. "The DNA that they share is of the original Fenderson. Perhaps they are the grandchildren of Firmin Fenderson, or something. But since we are wiping them all out anyways, looking further into it isn't a great priority." He turned his head and spotted Iggy. "Oh, he's come closer," he commented. He waved his fingertips toward the gurney. "Robert, how about you roll that guy over here."

Without urgency, Robert wheeled the gurney right next to the barred wall. The doctor studied Iggy the best he could, noting his restrained behavior above his beauty and freshness. He opened the restraint on the man's arm that was closest to the cell and forced it through the narrow spaces.

The man's hand formed a solid fist, jittering against the force in which he was held down. The strength left in him was enticing to Iggy. As if he were in the desert for days, the blood roaring through the guy's veins was like a river of crystal clean water to consume. It was nearly all that Iggy could hear. His mouth filled with saliva. He felt a little ill. He could grasp it if he wanted to. It was close.

But was it a trick?

The doctor's large eyes stared at him. "Go ahead," he said. "It was never Jim's intention to starve you to death." His mouth practically drooled in intensifying excitement the closer that Iggy inched forward. "You have permission," he added.