Reuptake
Andrew Selberg
Copyright 2011 by Andrew Selberg
He could hear them off in the distance. Moaning here and there, sometimes indistinguishable from the wind. His combat knife twisted and turned between his fingers in front of a burning heap. Taking time to admire it, he traced the edges carefully as not to draw blood. He took a deep breath, through the nose. Nothing could put him at ease like taking in the smell of his surroundings. The chemicals from the fire stung and traveled all the way down to the pit of his stomach, quickly putting an end to his ritual. Food had been scarce for the past few days and what little he had acquired he had given mostly to the girl. Now he heard his stomach demanding sustenance. It emitted a series of grumbles and a sharp whine that he had never heard the likes of before.
Turning he muttered, “Look, Staci, I’m gonna go-” but she wasn’t behind him. “Shit.” She wasn’t anywhere to be found. He should have picked up on it far earlier but the chemicals had masked her scent from him. After a quick scan he paused. The untrained eye would say he was just squinting, however the pits next to his eyes had been created for this sole purpose: scanning for heat signatures. When first installed the docs had warned him of the shock he would feel and to ease into it, but as a general rule he had learned to ignore their advice. Boy, had he been sorry. The electricity surged as he squeezed the muscles around the pits, literally shocking his eye sockets and everything in between. But that was when he was just an amateur, and he had learned how to properly adjust for differing conditions. It only took a few seconds.
Staci was crouched part way behind a tree, waiving her arms around in the air. A small doll in one hand, a large stick in the other. He had found her a few days past 0-hour. After taking in the absolute desolation that was Des Moines, Iowa he was glad to have found her stammering, soaked, and shaking in a large drain pipe. Snapping back to reality he found that the distance had been closed fast and now she was within safe talking distance. He should have known where he’d find her, she hadn’t moved since he had examined the morph tracks. They were new to him, but not unidentifiable. It must have been crossed with some kind of bear-
“Staci,” he said calmly. A sharp breathe arose from the dark. “You can’t keep losing me like this, kay?” Indeed it must have been tough for such a young girl to pay attention to his whereabouts at all times. Survival work could be bland: more so for those who were simply observing it being done. Her attention span was non-existent, but he couldn’t tell whether it was because of her age or caused by the previous few weeks events.
“I forgive you, don’t worry about it. Just try to be better.” He wanted to sound pleasant and kind like a good parent.
“Lets go!” He was all too aware of his rough, sandpapery voice and knew it fell short of sounding cheerful. This was no place for a little girl. But what can ya do? In any other situation he would have had to just given her some provisions and saw to it that she was headed in the right direction when he had found her. But this wasn’t any other situation and besides he was pretty damn sure he wasn’t on assignment. The girl wouldn’t have found anyone else, in fact he was still worried that he wouldn’t find anyone else; At least anyone worth keeping alive. Sensing that something was on her mind he tried to get her to just talk.
“So… uhh… what were you playing back there?”
“A game.” she stated coyly.
No shit. He let out a small chuckle.
“I was a wizard and there were lots of animals like snakes and raccoons and I was making them go away and they were shooting at me but Grace stopped all the bullets and made me safe,” she said while holding up the doll. Staci was a master at accomplishing whole paragraphs in one breath. After a few seconds she put Grace back down next to her side. He couldn’t help but psycho-analyze her. He did it to everyone. She was obviously coping with what had happened: the animals, the “magic”, the gun fights, and her doll that gave her the false sense of security that she so desperately needed. It all made sense. But despite her hopeless condition the girl did have one thing he really admired- the ability to roll with the punches. Like Staci he preferred to tackle things as they came. He knew that the right moment would present itself at the right time, whether it was pulling the trigger on his crossbow or choosing whether or not to pursue his target. Some would call it luck but he understood it as a feeling. The man noticed when things were out of place, not particular objects but rather whole settings. If it didn’t agree with his immediate plans he’d reconsider with a deep breath, focusing on what would arise from his intuition. He warned against putting all trust in the mind, it being a masterful illusionist. Instead he taught his subordinates to use the feeling in their hearts to make decisions, and it was a myriad of these types of philosophies that earned him the nickname “Buddha”.
“Sooooo….” He almost didn’t know what he was going to say, but then it came to him. “How long you been friends with Grace?” This might reveal a little bit about the girl’s life pre 0-hour.
“My mommy got her for me when she went to Coast Rico,” she explained, “we’ve been friends ever since.”
He humored himself. “Oh I think I’ve heard of that place!” He feigned excitement. “Is that anywhere near Costa Rica?”
“Yes! They’re right next to each other!” she confirmed. “My mom told me that.”
They simultaneously went silent. It was obvious, Staci was missing the old things she had once had, like her mom. He could tell she held value for many things, especially for her age, and cued in on her eternal appreciation for anything that she was given. It helps account for the fact that she should be past the doll stage by this point in life… makes her losses that much more tragic. For Buddha, Costa Rica held a special meaning. It was where he had gone on honey-moon with Olivia. It didn’t hurt so much to think about it anymore. Quite contrarily he would lose feeling and emptiness was all that was left, until the familiar stab occurred. It swelled inside his stomach like a black hole sucking in his intestines, compacting everything into one knot. That’s where the final protest came and finally got through Buddha’s thick skull. He whipped out the combat knife once more. He felt its weight in his rough hands. The gleaming metal flashed a quick reflection of a fire burning off to the left. Slowly rolling up his right sleeve he revealed a tightly wound, white, yet dirty, plastic like substance wrapped around his forearm. Staci rushed over.
“Remember, what I said. Look but don’t touch,” he warned. “You touch this shit and you’ll never wake up.” He didn’t care to censor himself. He wanted to scare her. The world wouldn’t censor itself for her either, she needed to learn.
“Does it ever change colors!?”
“No.” He stated dryly.
“Does the pattern ever change?”
“No.” He had already told her everything he knew about it, yet she would always assault him with questions. She thought it was absolutely breathtaking.
Interrogator. He thought. She would be very good at that. He smiled at her.
The wrapping he had taken off was designed by Heinrich, the chief special projects scientist at headquarters. It was created to hold a high content of water and to keep the forearm entirely humidified. He had been told that the clingy material was similar in composition to that of baby diapers. He hadn’t told Staci that yet, and he made a mental note to tell her that sometime in the future when she was feeling blue.
“Phyllobates terribilis.” He offered her. Fair compensation for her inquisitiveness he thought. “Just one of ‘em has enough poison to kill twenty men.”
“Did you just speak Elven?” She wondered out loud.
He laughed. “No. It’s the scientific name of the frog from which the skin was taken from.” He corrected her.
“Ewwwww!??
? She protested. “You’re wearing a dead frog skin?”
At first he was going to try to explain it to her, but then decided against it. She wouldn’t have any idea what he was referring to. So he went with the simple explanation.
“Yup.” He said and then chuckled.
Staci looked at his eyes, as if she was checking to see if he told the truth, then back down to the arm. Its turquoise color granted it an alien feel. The black dots sprinkled in the blue ocean of color gave it the sense that something was peering up at you. Except the eyes were more like teardrops and outlined with a bright shade of yellow. He understood why she was mesmerized.
When he was first asked by Heinrich to undergo a reuptake process with a poison dart frog, he accepted. It scared the hell out of him. He had trusted Heinrich with his life plenty of times before in reuptake processes and he trusted the man’s insane ability to pretty much do whatever he pleased genetically. The scientist explained that even though the poison would occasionally leak into his system, it would be counter acted by the addition of a snake liver that filtered it. Thank God for the Amazon ground snake. He missed the man’s quirky sense of humor. When he had first met Heinrich, he entered the room wearing a full Hazmat suit. Buddha, thinking it must have been normal for a reuptake process, continued to lie down on the bed. As if the suit wasn’t good enough, the scientist peered over him with a disgusting look. After an awkwardly timed minute or two he shouted at the top of his lungs:
“Achtung ze elektro tortur!” At which point, despite his extensive knowledge of the German language, Buddha’s eye merely twitched. “Wow, this man has some steel hard balls.” Heinrich stated matter-of-factly with a thickly accented voice. After he had taken the suit off he explained how he couldn’t help but fuck with his new patients. From there the two had a good laugh, exchanged names, and began the process. He wondered how the scientist had faired post 0-hour.
Sadly, the lab brought back memories of his wife. They had first met there also, and had gone on many adventures to acquire the specimens required for the genetic warrior program. Costa-fucking-Rica. Hell had never looked so beautiful. Lush tropical forests, white sand beaches, what wasn’t there to like? Although it was an assignment only he had received he brought Olivia along as their honeymoon. Being such a highly valued and secretive agent, he wasn’t allowed to visit the resorts and do the typical things newly-weds wanted to do. Things were quite strict and when venturing out into the public he was under orders to wear aviators to hide his thermal pits. What would command think about a day frolicking around on the beach, showing off all their latest weapons? Taking that all into consideration he thought he had done a damn good job. There was nothing he could do to avoid the catastrophe. Stumbling upon a lagoon near a hiking trail they had discovered the frogs. It was mating season, and they were invading every nook and cranny adjacent to the water. The newlyweds could see a clutch of eggs swaying in the mild ripples. Olivia wanted them for the lab. Reaching out into the water she scooped them into a containment cell. He would have warned her about the dangers of the rocks and being precariously unbalanced, but she had always been a fiercely independent girl. And just like that, right before his eyes she slipped on a smooth, mossy rock. They momentarily locked eyes, both of them knowing it was going to be bad. Time slowed down temporarily, and all that he could think of was how far she was going to drop. His heart jumped with such force that it could have burst out his mouth. Directly to the side was a jagged cliff and underneath were more jagged rocks. Olivia tried to catch herself on the side of the cliff, to no avail. She slid down the side of it, the rocks cutting into her body like a cheese grater. Her impact was slightly less terrifying. A smooth circular boulder cushioned the initial impact, and she rolled off into more sharp protrusions. Trembling with energy, Buddha, scooped her up as soon as he could. He felt the morning breakfast squirming in his stomach. She was still conscious, in fact she was trying to make light of the situation, saying she would be fine after a quick trip to the hospital. But he knew. He knew she wouldn’t be fine. When he had picked her up he had spotted one of the damned frogs simply relaxing on her arm. It’s mucus dripping into the deep gash. He carried her as fast he could. All the while she kept trying to calm him down. Olivia lost consciousness mere minutes after they left the lagoon, and was dead in another five. He felt how cold and limp her body became yet how peaceful she had looked. He had never forgiven himself.
Staci snapped him out of it. He was still standing there with his knife at the ready, arm stretched out, staring at the underside of his forearm. The treacherous patch of skin was there staring right back at him tauntingly, and he hated it.