Lacuna Clone
Ding ding!
“Doors opening,” she said. “Step back to allow customers to exit. When boarding, please move to the center of the car.”
Jay filtered his way through the rushing pedestrian reeds and out of the train.
Deedoo deedoo.
“Step back, doors closing.”
The Football had almost gotten caught in the door. Jay held the briefcase tighter in his hand, rubbing his wrist. The handcuff had begun to chafe.
The walls were pocked like concrete waffles. They wrapped around into the ceiling to create an unmistakeable arch. Federal Triangle.
There he stood, unerring and solemn, like a pillar in the center of the raging sapient sea. He hated to carry the Football around public places, much less the Metro.
A muscle on the right side of his neck seized, pulling tight as it told the world what the rest of his body would never convey. He wasn’t nervous. Of course not. Not at all.
Waves of people washed over him as he began to walk. A distant saxophone played from up the nearby escalator. He clutched the Football tighter. He stuck out in the shifting masses.
Another train was coming from the opposite direction. The subtle screech echoed through the chamber.
Smack!
Someone ran into him, knocking him forward.
“Hey!” Jay shouted, distracted as he gazed at the man.
Crack!
Jay looked down. The Football was gone, snipped clean off.
Another young man dissolved into the crowd, struggling to conceal the bolt cutters in his hands.
“Shit!”
He put his hands up and began to pace. The hourglass had begun to empty. The human shells mounted the escalator and badged out of the station. The culprit was gone.
Jay sprinted up the left side of the escalator, pushing people out of the way and feeling for his cell phone. As he retrieved it, the screen lit up with a new message.
“U close?”
Contact options. Call.
The phone rang, sputtering each pulse through the broken signal.
“What’s up? You get my text?”
Jay arrived at ground level.
“Yes, it’s gone.”
“It? What do you mean ‘it’s gone’?”
“They pushed me and snipped the chain with bolt cutters. Two guys. What was in the case, Joe?”
“Nothing that important.”
“What the hell do you mean, it’s not that important? Why would it be in the Football if it wasn’t that important? Why am I flying from D.C. to Oak Ridge and back if it’s not that important, Joe?”
“First off, don’t talk about it over the phone,” Joe said with something in his mouth. “Second off, we’ll get it taken care of. There’s a tracking unit in the case. Don’t worry about it.”
“I am worried about it, Joe. I’ll be there in a minute,” Jay said, still walking toward the Hoover Building.
“Don’t bother. I’ll take this up the chain. I’ll talk to the Transit Authority to get the footage so the higher-ups don’t nail your ass for espionage or something.”
“Great. What next?”
“You live up 6th, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I need you to go home. Wait for orders.”
“You just want me to go home?”
“That’s exactly what I want you to do. I’ll keep you updated.”
Jay rolled his eyes as the phone beeped silent. He was sweating through his suit jacket. July in the District. Pleasure.
Jay walked the several blocks North toward his apartment, anxious and disheveled. His composure was gone. His head ached behind the eyes with every heartbeat.
The apartment building was clean and bright, with modern cantilevered edges and oddly placed windows with freshly polished glass. Like a mausoleum built only yesterday.
Jay opened the door.
The interior was deathly quiet. Every footstep pattered about the empty room like pebbles in a pond.
“Welcome back, Jay,” said the sharply dressed, middle-aged woman at the front desk.
“You too,” he replied. Her face twisted into a confused smile.
The elevator doors dinged as he pressed the button, already on the ground floor.
Patiently, he waited for them to close. Three seconds. Five seconds. Seven seconds. Finally.
Jay closed his eyes and sighed, still coping with the potential ramifications of his actions. He reached down and felt the cuff still around his wrist, just atop large red welts.
BZZ. BZZ.
He reached into his pocket.
NO CALLER ID.
BZZ. BZZ.
“Hello?”
“Fifteen seconds.”
“What?”
BEEP.
Fifteen seconds?
The elevator arrived at the eighth floor. His stomach clenched and he scanned the hallway beyond the stainless steel doors. Nothing.
Ten feet from the front door. Jay pulled out his keys, struggling to find the right one. He inserted it into the keyhole and--
SNIP!
“What the--”
He reached up to his twitching neck and yanked out a small, metal dart.
“Shi--”
And reality faded out of existence.
*****
Jay groaned loudly into the black room. Flecks of color splashed across his woozy eyes in the dark. His head ached even worse than before. His body was numb.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello? Anyone?”
Jay was blinded with a sudden flash of light in front of him. He squinted into the static haze. The screen was filled with the black and white fuzz of a feedless television screen. It was old. The small face was made of thick glass. The air around it illuminated with an eerie glow.
The screen came into focus. The audio darted in and out for a moment as though the video had been corrupted or scratched.
A cartoon turtle with a hat walked onto the screen, sniffing a flower.
“There was a turtle by the name of Bert,” a woman sang.
“And Bert the turtle was very alert. When danger threatened him he never got hurt. He knew just what to do.” The turtle hid inside its shell as a monkey hanging in a tree above him lit a stick of dynamite.
“He’d duck! And co-ver. Duck! And co-ver!”
The video zipped to a halt and vanished into empty static.
An overhead lamp flipped above the television.
“Good morning, Jay.”
Jay rolled his eyes back into his head, still adjusting to the bright light. His arms were tied behind the chair. The voice seemed to originate from behind the lamp.
“I understand you had quite the day yesterday.”
“Sure,” Jay squinted. “Wait, yesterday? Who are you? Why am I here?”
“I would say that everything will be told in due time, but that’s simply untrue.”
“Where am I?”
“A fallout shelter. Don’t worry yourself over petty things. Your time is almost,” he paused, “Up.”
Jay’s heart tremored. Metal clattered behind the lamp.
“What’s with the video?”
“Use your brain for a moment, Jay.”
The door, which Jay could hardly make out behind the lamp, opened. Another man entered.
“Everything’s ready,” he said.
“Are Kay and Ell in place?”
“Kay’s standing by above Moscow, ready to drop. Ell is still in stasis at headquarters, as ordered.”
“Good. My memories are backed up to Purgatory. The Big Man better know what he’s doing.”
“It helps that you’re the same person,” the assistant joked.
“Being the same doesn’t mean we’re not different. Can you move that lamp out of the way for a moment?”
“Yes sir.”
The lamp drifted out of view to reveal an almost empty room inhabited by two men. Two men with identical faces. Two men with the same face as Jay.
Jay began to scream as the man in charge lifted a large, circular blade. He pressed a button and it whirred loudly. The man smiled at him.
“What the hell are you doing? What is going on?” Jay cried.
“Look, Jay,” the assistant clone asked, “We all take our turn. You’ve done a perfect job. Your memories will serve the Big Man well, and you will be rewarded in another life. As it turns out, nuclear war is quite lucrative. Be at peace. Your life was not a lie, it was a luxury. A luxury to serve. Yourself, that is.”
“You see,” said the clone-in-charge, “We will never die. You are the Big Man. I am the Big Man. The Big Man is the Big Man. You’ve served your part in his master plan. I didn’t mean for that to rhyme. Good luck,” he winked.
“Why-Zee, please secure his head.”
The assistant walked around Jay’s chair and he started to kick. The chair seemed to be bolted to the ground. Only now did Jay see the bloodstains in the concrete.
The man grabbed him around the neck and pressed Jay’s jaw shut with his arm. With muffled screams, the clone-in-charge brought the spinning blade to full speed and walked toward him.
“See you soon, buddy.”
The blade grinded into Jay’s forehead with a squelch and a muffled scream. Jay’s jaw clenched in agony, feeling his insides become outsides. His consciousness began to drift away.
The light became brighter and the whirring sound faded away.
*****
“Welcome to Purgatory,” she said.
Ding ding!
“Your collective consciousness awaits.”