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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1556047-The-Prevalence
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Death · #1556047
Death, cloning, and the race to prevent your own suicide.
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I remembered how it felt once I had left my body.  At peace, the stinging in my lungs had dissipated and for once in my life, I could have sworn I was happy.  My problems, my depression, and my pain had all gone overboard with my soul.

The weeds and debris danced their ballet, while the heavy green waters cradled my empty vessel, sunbeams piercing the sparkling surface like a blade.  I, involuntarily, swayed against the moving currents, watching passing minnows kiss my numb skin, tasting for the next meal.  Silhouettes of floating driftwood broke the scaley school's attention and caused them to flee.

Who would have known that death could be so lovely?

A figure gracefully approached me from down the submerged riverbed, a bright glow enveloping it's shape, growing more intense with every step.  I remained calm, a warm sensation overpowering my body, I knew I had nothing to fear.  A smile fell upon my face as her extended hand took mine.  The blondehaired beauty pulled me towards her, lovingly, and softly whispered, "Tristan, you must go back, it's not your time."

I turned and witnessed my body being pulled from the thick water to an overpassing motorboat.  I tightened my grip on the angel's hand, pleading to her, "But I don't want to go back, I am happy here."

She repeated herself, as she pulled from my grasp, "Tristan, you must go back, it's not your time."

A sudden explosion shot through my lungs, causing me to convulse violently.  There and then I was thrust upward from the water's depths, and thrown back into my pain-filled body.

I coughed the murky fluid from my oxygen-starved lungs, gasping in the foul-smelling air while every cell of my being burned.  My eyes bulged, seeing my rescuers' expression of concern, surrounding me.  Rage filled me to the brim, but I was too weak to move, too weak to even attempt leaping back to my liquid death.  I was almost there, I had caught a glimpse of Shangri-La, itself.

~*~

My lips were extremely chapped and bleeding, as result of my nervous chewing.  I was late, so late I feared my job would be abruptly terminated with every lost minute.  I wove zig-zag trails between the other moving vehicles with my own, making them seem a distorted rainbow, an eery acid dream.  Their bothersome honking, and aggressive middle finger gestures, soon faded away when my work building rose amongst others in the distance, like a massive concrete graveyard, cold and filled with lost souls waiting to take me.

I swerved sharply and screeched to a hault in my reserved parking spot.  A quick glance in the rear-view mirror let me know my gel had held my chestnut brown hair in place, but barely.  The dark shadows, below my hazel eyes, would be a dead giveaway that I had a late night celebrating our laboratory's sudden success.  I knew I should have taken Vonda's advice and went home.

As usual, Vonda had a cup of black coffee waiting for me.  Cold now, no doubt.

"I could always add milk and some ice, would that work?", her shrill voice rang against my eardums, giving me flashbacks of the previous evening. 

Vonda was wearing a lowcut yellow blouse; contrasted to her breasts, it looked like cream and honey, which I most obligingly wanted to take a second taste.  Her full pink lips stretched into a sultry smile, her blue eyes twinkling, hoping my male instincts would take over, and ask her to stay late again.

I shook my head delicately, tossed her my briefcase and headed straight for Mr. Malloney's office, the president of the company. 

I entered through the double doors without knocking.  Luke Malloney and I had developed a friendship outside of work, so he had grown accustomed to my frequent howdy-do's.  My fast, angry pace came to a hault when I realized that he was not alone.  He was joined by two labcoat wearing "vampires."

"Tristan, you are twenty-one minutes late," my boss stated in a-matter-of-fact tone, "What happened to you?"

I froze, my heart fluttering, hoping the worst was not coming.  Don't fire me, please!

"Traffic jam. I'm sorry Luke...."

Malloney gave his other visitors a quick smirk and gestured to the three chairs before his massive, and very expensive California redwood desk.  "Gentlemen," giving a brief chuckle then gesturing towards his other guest, "and lady.  Let's keep this on a professional level, shall we?  We're here to work, so let's get to it."

The three of us, trying to elude each other's personal space as children do, sat in silence.  The air was wispy and stale, causing my lungs to constrict.  I adjusted my tie and took deeper breathes.

"I'm sorry Tristan, I almost forgot.  This is our leading scientist Sherri Atherton, and her assistent Thom Hodges.  They are the ones who took the liberty of creating your clone."

I turned and shook hands with both of them, briefly nodding my head in approval.
Sherri was all legs, and had perfect exotic features on an oval face.  Her long black hair was tied back into a bun, causing her brown eyes to look far larger than they really were.  I could see tiny wrinkles starting to appear on her once cinnamoned skin, now an ashy tone of beige, a woman wasting away.  I began to ponder how she had looked ten years earlier.  My phallus jumped with excitement, I adjusted by crossing my legs, deciding to not look in her direction for the rest of the meeting, or as long as I did not have to get up.  She avoided eye contact with me, her expression getting annoyed with my staring.

Thom, on the other hand, looked like a reclusive vampire.  His eyes were shaded with dark circles from nights spent in the lab, over various bacteria cultures and blood samples.  His thin pale build looked lost in the oversized labcoat, waiting to be swallowed.  Thom smiled at me, his face lighting up to reveal a once attractive human being.  He could be no more than thirty years old, I guessed.

Malloney clasped his old manicured hands together, beginning with, "So Sherri.  How's the project coming?  Is he... I mean it almost ready?"

"Well I can assure you, Mr. Malloney, it is most definitely a he.  We are past in aiding that stage of development.  And yes, our project has almost came to the end."

Her words flowed out of her mouth, ringing through the room clear, strong and full of confidence.  Goosebumps covered my arms and neck at the sound of her accent.

"Well that is good.  Then the media can get off my ass about the unvealing," our boss sighed.  "It's bad enough my wife wants to invite the thing to dinner."

Thom shifted uneasily in his chair and cleared his throat.  He looked at Sherri with a confused look on his face, as if reminding her of some important detail.  She scratched at her jawline and spoke up.

"We are having a couple minor issues erasing the memories of the clone, and having it reach the desired age of maturity."

Malloney's face went emotionless, wanting to hear anything but bad news.  "What do you mean?  I thought I was paying you top dollar because you knew what you were doing."

Thom scooted to the edge of his chair, pushing his metalframed glasses up his nose, nervously.  His voice came out barely audible, "This is the first time anyone has legally attempted cloning a human.  Anything could happen."

"The clone's memory seems to be stuck," Sherri added, rubbing her eyes, knowing good and well another long day was ahead of her.

I got up, confident that Luke had forgotten about my tardiness and walked over to the liquor cabinet, sensing my friend, and boss, may need a quick pick-me-up.  I knew all eyes were on me, I could feel them burning my backside.  I grabbed the bottle of Scotch and interrupted the awkward silence.

"Well if anything goes wrong with it, it can be destroyed, right?  It's not like it has a soul."

Both scientists locked on me like an oncoming missile.  Their coldness made me shudder.  I continued.

"I mean it's not a real human.  It's just a blank shell.  I am the real deal."

I poured a shot of the liquor into a glass and headed back to the desk, offering it to Malloney.  He waved it away with his hands.  "Can it be destroyed, if there are any problems, Sherri?"

She sighed and ran her fingers through the hair on the top of her head, the tension causing her scalp to itch.

"I am unsure of this.  In my professional opinion, you both share the same DNA, the same memories, the same opinions..." her voice drifting, "I would not surprise me if you may share a soul as well."

I could not believe what I was hearing, and I did not know as to why I was feeling so horrible about it.  I did not want to be apart of this experiment in the first place.  Luke had talked me into it, promising a huge promotion if I partcipated.

"I thought you scientists believed Darwin and all that evolution stuff?," Luke inquired.

Sherri half smirked, "Well I don't think I am the first Christian scientist in the world."

She got up from her seat and brushed herself off, Thom copied.

"If you don't mind, we should get back to work.  I'll keep you posted, alright?"

I watched the two drift from the room.  I gulped down the strong drink, letting the intense burning bring me back to reality.  I grabbed my throat and tried clearing it.

"So I guess it all depends on what your religion is... that whole soul remark doesn't bother you, does it?"

I continued to stand and look down upon the boring gray carpeted floor, trying to ponder his question.

I had not gone to a church service for many years.  After my near death experience at fifteen, I had tried attending the sermons, hoping to develop some close and personal relationship with Him, wanting to change my outlook on my life.  But even after my baptism, numerous church youth group meetings, praying, and volunteer work, I was still only one-third of the way full with the Spirit.  I was starving for it.  I grew tired of failing my attempts at religion, and naturally found a new group of friends to hang out with.  Ofcourse, they frowned upon church goers, so I kept my faith to myself.  I wanted to be accepted by something, especially by something that acknowledged my existence.

"Tristan?"

I knew I had a soul.  My brief suicide attempt had proven that, erased my fear of death, and made me crave the chance to live.  But look where it had gotten me.  I had become an ally to a company that specialized in cloning, a company that played God.
The words of Sherri looped in my head.

"We are having a couple minor issues erasing the memories of the clone...  I believe you may share a soul as well."

Impossible.  I found it hard to believe that this thing looked like me, thought like me, sounded like me, remembered things that I had done throughout my life... but wasn't me.  I was like a computer program with a backup disk.  Was that how God portrayed me now?  Please don't let the experiment go well from now on.

"Hey, are you listening to me, kid?"

A strong hand shook my shoulder, and my thought process ajar.  I turned and saw Luke's brown eyes filled with concern.

"You going to be alright?  Do you need to go home?  Need another drink?"

I shook his touch away.

Surely God would know who the true Tristan was, and who was the fake.  I only gave the clone my blood and cells.  There was no way in hell I was going to share my soul.

"I'm alright.  Your religion question just sort of shook some old memories loose.  I couldn't stop them from coming."  A fake smile spread acrossed my lips.  "I think I am going to stay and get some work done.  Please let me know if anything new turns up."
         
         ~*~

Moonlight shone through the silver window blindes in a haunting fog, causing Vonda's flawless flesh to be striped with the shadows.  Her yellow blouse, pin-striped skirt, and black g-string were strewn carelessly around the room, ripped off in a frustrated manner.  The only items remaining were her tan stockings, silver dangling earrings and black high heels.

I entered from behind, pinning her against the mahogany desk with no hopes of escaping, but from the way she was moaning and clawing at the wood, I don't think she wanted to.

My sharp thrusting sent small ripples up her buttocks and soon dissolved in her lean milky back.  She let her head hang back limp, wanting me to grasp her wavy, medium-length blonde hair, grinding into me with her hips.  I reached around her and firmly held onto her breasts, hungrily kissing her back and letting my tongue taste the saltiness of her spine.

"I love you!," she gasped suddenly, catching my rhythm offguard.  I could feel her secret set of pink lips tighten around me, I knew she had finished.  I slowly pulled out, my unsatisfied erection dwindling away.  Vonda turned to me with tears in her eyes, her chest and face flushed from the orgasm.

"I'm sorry, Tristan. I shouldn't of said that."

She went around the room and gathered her articles of clothing, trying her best to not make eye contact with me.  I knew she hadn't meant to say it, but I always had a bad habit of accidentally causing women to fall in love with me.  I sighed angrily at myself for sleeping with another virgin.  Vonda sat on the cushioned chair by the door, re-dressing herself.  I remained unclothed and approached her.

She kept her eyes downcast, tears black from the mascera.  She looked like a losing competitor at a Lil Miss pageant.  I reached outward and lifted her face to mine.  I kissed her softly, making sure she saw my smile as I pulled away.

"You're a sweetheart, Vonda.  Probably the best I have ever had."

Dammit, I am only making it worse.

"You're a bad liar, boss," she whispered, smearing her tears acrossed her pink cheeks after re-dressing.  "I'm going to tidy up my desk and go home."

I nodded and went over to the window, watching the passing vehicles zoom by, trying to assess the situation and see if Vonda would leave and never return.  She would most likely remain employed here, with a tiny spark of hope that I would melt away my professional sexist persona, and take her away to a better life.  Ofcourse, there was no way that would ever happen.  If she only knew how many lovers I had.  Women all the same, hoping oneday to find that one mysterious, strong and perfect man...  How many times do I have to tell them?  I am not him.

         ~*~

A consistent beeping echoed and bounced me from a dreamless sleep.  I threw off my down covers and hobbled over the freezing floor, ripping apart my clothes from the previous day, ready to throw the noisy beast against the wall.  I held the tiny device closely so my eyes could adjust quicker.  Who the hell was paging me on a Saturday?  I peeked at the display window, it read my office number followed by 911.  My heart began to surge blood in a chaotic rhythm.

"Tristan?  Is this you?"

The voice was Sherri's, this time not so seductive, more urgent and nervous.

"Yes, it's me.  What's wrong with it?"

"I don't know how to tell you this but it's... you!  You've escaped!"

The blood in my face drained as vast scenarios popped up randomly in my mind.

"What happened?"

"I don't want to tell you on here.  Please meet me in the lab."

         ~*~

My voyage to work seemed to last only seconds.  As I entered the parking lot, I repeatedly thanked God that there were no visible highway patrol cops, because I would have definitely been arrested if they would have monitored my speed.
Sherri was where she said she would be, in the lab, bent over picking up shards of broken glass.  The room looked like a tornado had hit: chairs flipped on their sides, glass items smashed on the once sanitized tiled floor, numerous files of clientel everywhere, chemicals staining the walls and leaving angry pictures, proving their maker to be very enraged.

She heard my approach and turned.  A puffy face and red eyes showed me that she had been crying.

"Are you okay?", I asked, not sure if I should try consoling her, for fear that our "professional relationship" would be ruined.

"No... I am not alright," she replied then immediately threw the shards against the wall, a disturbingly pleasant sound ringing through the room.  "I am fucked."

I backed away timidly, hoping she would not direct her next attack on my brand new Italian suit.

"I thought I could handle myself with the clone.  It seemed so docile, and controlled. I should have tied it down."

I cleared my throat, "So what happened?"

Sherri's wild brown eyes slanted into angry slits.

"It escaped you moron!  I was trying to erase it's memories and it somehow got stuck on a traumatic experience from your juvenile years."

"So it's a teenager then?"

My blood ran cold.  I remembered how I was then... suicidal, angry, depressed.  My only desire was to die.

"Yes.  The rapid development ceased once it's testosterone began.  Now it's memories are stuck in a deathless loop."

Drops of blood began falling to the ground from Sherri's palm.  She noticed the pain, but only smeared her hand against her white labcoat.

"So do you know where it went?", I asked when Sherri walked out the door, a small bloodtrail dripping.  I followed behind, like a morbid and emaciated walking corpse drawn to the sticky and red fluid that glistened in the flourescent lighting.

She turned back towards me and gazed into my eyes.

"All it kept saying was...", she paused trying to remember the details, "There has to be something better than this."

With that being said, she disappeared around the corner.

Flaskbacks of the lake swiftly came back to my memory, the day I was determined to end my useless life.  I knew my young clone was heading there, to destroy itself.  And if Sherri was correct about sharing a soul, I had to stop it.  There was no way in hell, my clone was going to beat me to the kingdom of Heaven.
         
         ~*~

Enormous raindrops hit my windshield with such force, it looked like waterballoons erupting.  The wind blew my vehicle all over the slick streets, trying to end my mission early.  I knew I could simply commit suicide to beat my clone, but I was not ready to die.

I imagined how my clone's face would be once I introduced myself.  He would probably be in denial, completely dazed by the news that he wasn't a natural human.  More than likely, it would only fuel the fire.

Repetition of red, blue and white took over my rearview mirror.  I briefly glanced at my speedometer, it read 95 mph.

Whoops.

As if I hadn't noticed the highway patrol, I only stamped my foot harder onto the accelerator.  The raindrops were now almost blinding my vision of the shadowy gravel road, and the windshield wipers were doing no justice.  My tires struggled to stay fastened to the ground, dangerously swerving against the forces of nature.

In the distance, I saw the advancing fog from the lake's surface calling to me.  The sirens were being drowned by the wind's constant howls.  Memories flowed back to me.

The entrance is just up ahead!  If only I could just...

From the right side of the road, I saw a darkened figure mysteriously float into the path of my vehicle.  The world around me slowed as I watched the frightened face of my young clone break and concave against my shattering windshield.  Rain, flesh, and blood engulfed me, my transportation flying off the road, pushing through overgrown grass, and straight into the path of a telephone pole.  Upon impact, my head bashed against the steering wheel, causing my sight to go black.  I could feel the flickering of flames.  I could smell smoke and burning flesh.  I could almost taste the gasoline wafting from my tank.  I layed contorted, like a forgotten and mangled toy.

The police sirens grew faint, rather than louder.  I knew was dying.  And this time, no one was there to pull me from the waters.

         ~*~

I could see my charred body amidst the flames.  Rescue units were in no hurry to extinguish the hungry fire and took their time, seeming to know I was gone.
I stood feeling numb, not feeling the once euphoria as before.  A bright beam of golden rays emerged from the billowing clouds above me.  There, I saw her.  The same angel that had met me as a teen.  I ran, hoping she would recognize me.  I stopped short when I witnessed another figure running as well... A younger me, my clone.

"No!," I tried to scream, but found no words.  The angel took my clone's hand and turned towards me.  As tears flowed down my face, I saw a look of disappointment spread on her brow.

"Away evil being, I come only for this innocent youth.  I do not know you."

They rose up to the clouds and did not take a second glance my way.

I could feel my being dissolve into oblivion, into nothingness... I simply could not exist.
© Copyright 2009 Asha Loon (asha.loon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1556047-The-Prevalence