Human (14 page)

Orrin rushed from his office into the laboratory, a student at his heels. As he pushed through the half-open doorway, a cold sweat pricked Orrin’s skin. The scream that had scorched their quiet discussion was now followed by an electrifying silence. His eyes searched the room frantically. There was nothing.
Nothing.
Walls of equipment beeped quietly, methodically. The low frequency hum of computer servers was barely audible.

“What the hell was that?” Dale's voice was shaking.

“I don't know. It was here though; it was just here -” Orrin replied. “Woah! What the hell? The coil is discharging.” Orrin dashed to the other end of the laboratory and quickly cut the AC supply, unconcerned by the sharp flicks of white blue electricity that crawled across the toroid reaching for his bare hand. “Dale, was someone here just now?”

The laboratory door was slightly ajar. Poking his head out into the hallway, Dale turned back, confused. “Nah, no-one there.” He shrugged nervously. “Scared the shit out of me though…” He exhaled deeply and leaned against the door frame.

Orrin paced the room, his heart still racing. He drew his hand roughly over his face. Everything else looked normal, untouched.

What happened here?
He replayed the last few minutes in his mind. He and Dale were completing the calibrations for the next test in his small, adjoining office. Nothing extraordinary there. Then, still etched in his mind, the terrifying scream that had ended so abruptly.

A high pitched, torturous, animalistic scream.

Animalistic …Kyah -

“Ivy!”

Orrin raced past Dale down the bright hallway and out the glass doors, blinking as the setting sun suddenly split across the horizon. His gaze swept the concrete expanse. Empty and quiet.

“Shite!” He punched the door frame as he re-entered the lab. “I lost track of time. Ivy was bringing the chimp down here this afternoon. It must have freaked out when it saw the lab equipment.”

Orrin slunk defeated into a chair. His eyes burned and he pushed his thumb and forefinger under his glasses in agitation. Dale stuck silent and awkward to the wall.

“She's gone, probably taken the chimp –
bonobo
- back to the Biology lab, it must have legged it on her. I’ve made a bags of everything now. I shouldn't have even suggested she bring it here.” Ivy's consistent reservations rung in his ears. '
She's had enough invasive tests to last a lifetime.'

“God damn it! Why do I always push too far?” Orrin knew that Ivy's over-protectiveness of Kyah also extended more than a little to herself. He'd been
so close
to breaking that impenetrable wall around her and now he'd practically handed her the bricks to rebuild it and shut him back out.

“Eejit,” Orrin muttered under his breath. He smacked his forehead with his fist and grabbed his mobile to dial Ivy's office extension. The refectory napkin it was written on was still folded in his wallet, her neat cursive handwriting finished with a smiley face.

“I'm sorry, this number is not connected. Please check the number before calling again.”
The call disconnected.

“Brilliant, just bloody brilliant.” His heart sank.
Did she give me a wrong number deliberately? No. No, she must have copied it down wrong, that's all. We still have a date planned. She'll call me.
Orrin’s chair rolled back as he forced himself to his feet.

The screams had been
so
intense, more than scared. Spine-chilling. Agonised, even. Orrin dragged his eyes over the equipment as he stalked the room.

“That’s not right,” he muttered.

Glad to be reprieved of his attempt to become invisible, Dale darted across to join him. “What?”

Skimming his fingers down the nearest computer screen, Orrin scanned the displayed stream of variables. “These calibrations,” he continued, “they're all wrong.” Orrin had often convinced himself that his near photographic memory was a blessing, at least with regards to his work. His relationships, of course, seemed cursed by remembering too well, dwelling. There was a certain freedom to be gained in forgetting the details that punished the most. However, now his memory served him as he identified anomalies instantly. “And here, what's this? These aren't the calculations we set up.” Orrin moved to the next screen, aggravation growing.

Dale nervously jumped into the nearest swivel chair and scooted to the keyboard. With fingers a blur, he began analysing the data. “Um, sorry Orrin, I'm not sure… just need a minute… shouldn't be… um… “

“Evening dudes, what's happening?” Phil Chan breezed through the door. He waved a pair of expensive sunglasses at them as he dumped his laptop case on the nearest desk. Tall and immaculately dressed, his carefree self-confidence was amplified by a combination of intelligence and a very wealthy family. He had the preened, adored look about him of an only son.

“Where the hell have you been all day, Phil?” Orrin said. His voice was uncharacteristically bent with anger. “Get yourself over here and help Dale. The systems have gone haywire. Someone’s stuffed up.” Phil's nonchalance faltered as he took in Dale's wide eyed reticence. He grabbed the stranded chair.

“I'll be in my office.” Orrin turned and stalked away. As he neared his door a glint of silver caught his eye. He picked up a delicate chain from the floor. Ivy's necklace.

Broken.

With a sigh of regret, he shut the door behind him.

Ivy lay nauseated and broken; her ears still ringing with the high pitched scream that had followed her. She didn't want to move and didn't try. Perhaps she couldn't move anyway. Somewhere, her mind stayed connected. Her body, her
self
, didn't feel important anymore; it had ceased to exist to Ivy as anything but this manifestation of searing, agonising pain. Reality had changed. It had become only the shredding that had torn at her bones, and the lasting heavy ache that consumed her. She tried to claw past the pain, to surface, but the blackness suffocated and dulled her senses under its agonising weight. Ivy struggled. A tiny part of her grappled bravely against this loss of control, desperate to make sense of the pain, sure that there was something more important to remember, desperate to be
aware
. But there came no insight; she was not
alive
enough anymore. Her strength sapped quickly and easily and Ivy’s distant mind only mumbled incoherent thoughts in offering as a wave of nausea hit her again. The pounding of blood through her ears washed away all sound. She forced open her eyes but only blackness greeted her, so perhaps she had not opened them at all. As the nothingness overwhelmed her again, Ivy sank into it willingly, gratefully, hoping the terrible ache would disappear in its embrace.

When she awoke for the second time, comfort greeted her. Black heaviness still filled her head, but there was no longer suffocation, no longer pain. This time, it was a quiet, dark place to hide. Ivy lay still with closed eyes, slowly becoming conscious of her arms, her legs and her face. She was curled on her side, with something spongy under and around her. She was warm, much warmer than usual. A hand stroked her forehead gently. The soft fingers ran from her brow up into her hair, rhythmically, slowly. It had been many years since she’d felt the love and safety of such a hand. She lay contemplating this new knowledge.
Mum. I guess that means that I've died and that's why the aching has gone. I'm here, with her, and it's over.
This death didn't bother her. Memories of the shredding and its agonising, mind-numbing ache were so close by that they threatened to smother her again in fear. Death seemed like a reasonable price to pay to be free of it.

This is peaceful, I like it here. I won't be missed
. Silently, Ivy felt the weight of her conviction. No one would miss her. She
had
been disappearing over the last few years, little by little. She had camouflaged herself into the backcloth of society, consumed by her research and the desire to stay independent– to protect herself, she reasoned. There was no one left now to grieve her loss. No one would even know she was gone. Perhaps it was better this way, better to leave no mark on the world, just disappear.

As a child she had been indomitable, entirely doubtless of her own impending imprint. Now that life was over, she wondered where that bravery had gone, what she had done to herself to let it fade.

Death was quiet. Tantalising scents and long forgotten memories came flitting back. A shining Christmas tree with a lopsided cardboard angel, a thickly scented carpet of pine needles on glossy floorboards, over-sized gumboots full of rain, the coconut scent of her mother's thick red hair. The memories came faster, chasing each other as she struggled to grasp them. A flash of white teeth and the laughing eyes of a boy, a first kiss under the soft fall of snow, heartache. Her father in his favourite chair, so many books, her beloved cello, blinding laboratory lights, daisies, chocolate and strongly brewed coffee, sheets of music, faces – so many faces, dark wavy hair, bright purple jacarandas towering above her, Kyah playing in their branches.
Kyah!

Ivy sat bolt upright, her eyes bursting open as she grappled the air for stability. Kyah! She could not afford death, even such a peaceful one.

Something gritty and foul coated her lips and invaded her mouth, and Ivy spat out dark loamy soil. She sucked the humid air fiercely, filling her lungs. Bright green shapes violated her eyes and she blinked furiously, rubbing them with filthy fingers. In front of her, a familiar black face came slowly into focus, hand extended. Soothing, guttural hoots came close to Ivy's ear. She was so grateful; it was like music. The bonobo's warm fingers again sought Ivy's forehead and this time they were met by a shaking hand.
It was you,
thought Ivy.
It was your touch that reached me in that dark place.
A tiny shadow of renewed grief arose as she realised.
It was only you.

“But you’re alive,” breathed Ivy, holding the long fingers to her cheek.

Her companions’ eyebrows creased and she gave another soft hoot, clearly pleased Ivy was finally responding. Strong, hairy arms encircled Ivy like a child and she couldn't help but smile. She pulled away, studying the bonobo. A gash on Kyah’s forehead trickled blood, which had set and dried around her eyes. She was filthy, dirt and leaves dulling her usually immaculate coat. The scab on her chest flamed with scratch marks. But the bonobo’s onyx eyes were clear and responsive and her face showed no sign of pain. The cut wasn't life-threatening - the scab looked awful, but she'd seen worse - a few grazes - no broken bones. Ivy exhaled with loud relief.

Finally appeased, she let her own eyes drop. Ivy found her hands sinking into a layer of damp, decomposing leaves. Far above her, a weak sun broke through tiny holes in a dense canopy, shooting down dazzling patches of light but leaving the majority of ground dank and shadowed. Every possible shade of green surrounded her, overwhelming in its beauty and intense domination.

“Where the hell am I?” Ivy reeled. She didn't recognise this place. Disorienting greenery stretched in every direction and massive trunks dwarfed her in its centre. A rainforest she thought; the humidity was like a living force pressing in on her.
I would remember this
, thought Ivy.
I
don’t
remember this
. Her heart quickened, reflecting the pulse of life around her.
How the hell did I get here?

She pushed herself up off the ground. White sparks showered in sudden blackness before her eyes and a searing pain shot through her right leg. Falling back again, she ran a filthy hand across a dark patch on the leg of her jeans. She rolled it up. A deep cut sliced Ivy's right ankle an inch long, blood bubbling at the edges and a thin layer of white visible underneath. She pinched the edges together, biting her bottom lip hard.

“Damn.”

Deep breaths. Come on, Ivy. Think.
Scanning the surrounding earth, she spied her brown leather satchel nearby. Ivy reached back and weakly shook the contents one-handed onto the leaf-littered earth. A stack of papers sprayed across the ground. She shook it again and one by one, the contents of her bag hit the ground. Her hairbrush. A half-empty water bottle. Purse. Head scarf. A half dozen pencils. Keys. A chocolate bar. An apple. Finally, her mobile phone and beloved journal.