Sample 46 by Paul Cesarini

Disclaimer:
This work is a piece of fiction and reflects the ideas, viewpoints, and creative decisions of the author alone. The publisher does not endorse, adopt, or assume responsibility or liability for any themes, depictions, or interpretations contained herein. Any resemblance to real persons, beliefs, or events is coincidental or used for fictional purposes only. Readers who take exception to any aspect of the content may intimate the author or publisher at the earliest.

Sample 46 by Paul Cesarini

1

Bert skidded around the corner then pressed flat against the wall, hoping to catch his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his lungs to cooperate. He knew he was out of shape – but this out of shape? Priya’s birthday gym membership flashed through his mind like a cruel joke. The wall felt cool against his sweat-slicked palms and back, a small mercy. His glasses were cracked, one lens spiderwebbed. Scratches burned across his face. His ring finger throbbed with a dull, insistent pain. More shouts. Maybe getting closer? No. They hadn’t picked up his scent again. Yet. Loosening his tie with trembling fingers, he slowly peered around the corner. His eyes widened. He turned and ran.

2

Earlier that evening, work at the lab was winding down. The parking lot, still slick from rain, slowly emptied as waves of people with too many letters before and after their names hung up their lab coats and headed home. A fresh blanket of leaves coated the grass surrounding the building, partially covering the Pan-Eurasian Technological Institute sign in front. They would be removed the next day and replaced shortly after; a seasonal ritual between the groundskeepers and nature.

On the fourth floor, the security door to the lab buzzed open, the light above it flashing green. Bert stepped out, suit jacket draped over one arm, while removing his lanyard keycard. He was, as usual, somewhat rumpled. He was often rumpled when he came into work, too, focusing more on his research than his appearance.

He stuffed the keycard in his pocket. The door swung shut behind him, the light switching red. Bert paused, brow furrowed, then fumbled through a pocket and pulled out the keycard again. He turned and pressed it against the keypad. The light turned green. He opened the buzzing door and grabbed a small briefcase. The door swung shut as he walked down the hallway.

He nodded to the custodian buffing the floors, an older gentleman with grey hair pulled back into a ponytail. The man wore a large set of headphones. Bert couldn’t tell if they were for music or ear protection. The floor buffer wasn’t particularly loud, but he supposed it might warrant something to prevent hearing loss. The custodian politely nodded back. Bert thought he saw him shake his head but couldn’t tell if he imagined it, or if the man was just swaying to music. The sound of the floor polisher rhythmically echoed in Bert’s head as he walked to the elevator. He thought the man’s name was Sidney, maybe. Bert saw him nearly every night. Each time, they would make eye contact and do the head-nod, eyebrow thing that all guys do – that ‘I acknowledge you’ motion. Yet, Bert never stopped to talk with him. Why was that, he wondered? He resolved to do so next week, time permitting.

Bert’s mind drifted to more important thoughts: dinner. He knew Priya was making tikka that night. With samosas. Sure, he thought, it was because her mother was coming over to see the twins, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was tikka. She used a specific kind of turmeric and papaya paste, only available from a shoppe downtown. He had picked them up himself, along with ingredients he had hoped were for biryani.

Priya was a great cook, he thought, pressing the button for the elevator then pausing to scratch himself. And a great wife. And mom. He never understood why she chose him, but knew he was incredibly lucky. Even her mother was ok… mostly. She could be inflexible, particularly about the twins. But, he knew the meal would put everyone in good spirits. Maybe they’d all watch that new hospital drama afterwards. Trauma Bay?

The elevator door slid open and Bert’s mood instantly changed. Standing there, eyes glued to a large holotablet, was Dr. Park. She hadn’t noticed him yet, or that he was still in mid-scratch. He considered ducking off to the side, but she looked up right as he was about to move. They locked eyes, then he looked away and stepped into the elevator. To anyone else, this probably would’ve seemed like a normal interaction, no different than dozens of times when passing coworkers in hallways. Bert knew this was different. He knew she still stared at him, even though he pretended to select which button to hit since ‘L’ was the only destination for anyone still in the building. He knew that stare. Accusing him. About the sandwich.

“Dr. Park,” he said, still pretending to examine the buttons. The doors slid shut and he felt the elevator slowly descend.

“Dr. Brenner,” she responded, curtly.

He weighed his options. Continue denying everything? She suspected it was him but couldn’t prove it. He did in fact eat the evidence. He even disposed of the wrapper in a bin two flights down. But, everyone knew it was him. The husky guy. The guy whose wife packed salads for his lunch. Nearly everyone else there was trim, fit. Even Dr. Gao – likely an octogenarian – was fit. He never saw her wheezing going up a few flights of stairs. It was discrimination, really – assuming the chunky guy ate the sandwich from the break room fridge. It could’ve been anyone. The sandwich wasn’t even clearly marked. It could’ve been leftover from some lunch Business Ops had, or from that reception earlier. That fridge was always filled with leftover food. He was doing the housekeeping staff a favor by not letting the sandwich go bad.

Yet, he still had to work with her. And, it was still her sandwich. It apparently didn’t matter that it happened last month. She held a grudge. She iced him out of meetings, ignored his questions during project briefs, and barely acknowledged him on the team. It wasn’t due to his competency. He had methodically worked his way up the ladder. He’d earned it. No, this was all because of one sandwich. It wasn’t even that good.

Bert sighed, deciding to suck it up. He’d apologize for lying about the sandwich, and for consistently denying it. He was an adult. Lying to some junior colleague left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d apologize, then offer to buy her lunch for the remainder of the quarter. Any place that delivered to the lab. Well, he thought, maybe not any place…

“Dr. Brenner?”

He turned around, running his free hand through his thinning hair.

“Look, Dr. Park, about the sandwich, I…”

“Do you prefer Albert, or Bert?”, she asked, poker-faced.

“What? Bert is fine. Not Albert. Only my mother calls me that.”

“Please call me Ha-yoon,” she said, sticking her hand out. He shook it, somewhat apprehensively. He wished he hadn’t just been scratching himself with that same hand, and that the elevator wasn’t so slow.

“Look, about the sandwich. It was me. I didn’t know it was yours. I mean, I knew it wasn’t mine, but I didn’t know it was yours specifically and I didn’t see it marked but I still shouldn’t have taken it and it was childish and I’m sorry and I…”

“I don’t care about the sandwich.”

“I’ll buy you another sandwich. You pick the place – just not that ‘artisanal bistro’ place by the branch campus. I mean, I’ve never been there before but I’m opposed to any place that tries to elevate something as lowbrow as a sandwich. But, if you really want to go there it’s ok since the whole thing is my fault and I’m not really this much of a jerk…

“I don’t care about the sandwich. But, I’d love to go to lunch with you”

He wasn’t certain but could swear while he was talking / blathering, she had taken a half-step toward him. Three floors to go, he noticed.

“Ok. Good.”

“Bert, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

“Wait, I don’t have to buy you another sandwich?”

She moved another half-step closer – objectively, inarguably closer – then reached out and slowly grabbed his tie and let it run through her fingers.

“Bert, I… have feelings for you.”

“Um… ok. Wait, what?” Bert looked over his shoulder, as if she might somehow be speaking to someone behind him in the elevator.

Her grip tightened on his tie. He tried to step back but she yanked him forward, their faces nearly touching. Was that… a tear streaming down her face?

“I’m… falling in love with you, Bert. I-I don’t care who knows,” she whispered, gazing deeply into his eyes.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I’d never kid about this.”

“Whoa – um, hold on!” he said, dropping his suit coat to the floor and putting his palms up. “You practically just started here, didn’t you?”

“Is that so wrong?” Still holding his tie with one hand, she moved her other hand down by the small of his back, pulling him closer.

“Um, ok, wait. Nope. Not happening. I mean, I know I have this effect on women – definitely back at university,” he said, lying. “I played club lacrosse for almost two semesters before that whole ‘officiating incident’, plus debate club, too. But, I’m like, married. Happily married. And, my wife’s making tikka and her mother’s coming and there is no way I could explain this and – whoa! Hands off my behind!”

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Bert hopped out into the hallway, his briefcase skidding across the floor, Park still holding his tie like a leash. She grabbed his tie with both hands, following him out of the elevator. He pried them off, causing her to fall backward to the ground.

“Geez! Are you ok? Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. You wouldn’t let go of my tie and…”

“Aren’t you attracted to me?” she asked, sobbing, brushing her long hair away from her face.

“Look, I told you: I’m married, with kids and stuff. I mean, I’m really flattered and all. You’re a beautiful woman. I mean, seriously beautiful. The last time a woman said anything even remotely like what you’ve said, I proposed – and she said yes. Still not sure why, really. Lemme help you up.”

As he reached out to her, she suddenly lunged forward, grabbing his hand and raking him across the face. “Aaagh!” he screamed. His glasses flew off his head. Instinctively, he smacked her away. She collapsed on the floor, still sobbing. He felt blood on his face. His blood. He watched as it dripped on the floor.

“Wha… what did you just do?!”

“She can’t make you happy!” she yelled, starting to rise again. The right sleeve of her dress was torn. One of her pumps was off. She glared at him, crazed, through bloodshot eyes. She slipped on his blood and fell back down, bracing herself to rise again.

“Holy crap!” Bert yelped, turning. He grabbed his glasses off the floor and bolted down the hallway. His dress shoes click-clacked on the polished floor as he ran. He briefly considered going back for his briefcase but decided against it. He rounded the corner and noticed the exit sign. Huffing and puffing, he sprinted to it and flung open the door to the main lobby. A PanTech security guard sat at the counter by the entrance, pouring something hot from a large thermos. She was short, mid-40s, hair tied in a bun. She shot him an annoyed look.

“Hey! Help! There’s something wrong with Dr. Park – she’s gone crazy! She’s totally in love with me, and I’m married, and she’s like, really pretty but my wife’s amazing and I don’t know what to do and… and you gotta help me!”

She didn’t move, still holding the thermos. “What happened to your face?” she asked. “You bleedin’.”

Bert ran to her, furtively looking back to the door. He sort of recognized her. Maybe. His eyes darted to her nametag.

“Look, officer, um… Sonjanita Delgado. She’s gonna come through that door any second now. You’re gonna need to arrest her or stun her or something.”

She put the thermos down, drew her MobileStun from its holster and turned toward the door. They both looked intently at the door, waiting.

Waiting.

Nothing.

She turned to him, spitting out a wad of chewing gum. And aimed. “Put your hands where I can see ‘em.”

“What? No-no,” he said, pointing to the doorway. “I’m not the one you need to worry about. Look, I’ll call the Central Compliance Authority. You just get ready to stun her. Crap!” he said, frantically searching his pockets. “Where’s my holophone? Was it in my jacket? My briefcase?”

“Put your hands where I can see ‘em! If anyone’s callin’ the CCA, it’s me.”

“You gotta stun her!”

“Who?” she asked.

“Her! Um, she was right behind me. Go look!”

“You look,” she said, motioning with her MobileStun. With her other hand, she pulled out her comms unit. “Kels, you there? We gotta situation. Stop your rounds and head back.”

“Yes – good!” Bert exclaimed, pointing to her comms unit. “We need backup.”

“Go. Look.”

“Fine,” he said, waving his hands in the air. He stepped lightly back to the door, listening. He peered through the narrow, vertical window built into the door, but couldn’t see anything. He shrugged, scratching his head, then turned back to her.

“Look, I’m not lying or anything. She was right… whoa!”

Sonjanita no longer held the MobileStun. She had also removed her hat. She then removed her hair clip, letting her bun come loose, and tossed her hair back. She met his gaze again, and smiled, biting her lower lip ever so slightly.

“C’mere, you,” she said, in a voice so wanton, so yearning, so unexpectedly sultry that Bert wasn’t even sure it came from the same person who had just barked orders at him. It was the voice of a woman needing – insisting – on having a new plaything, a snack to keep her busy during idle time. She eyed him up and down, her smile growing as her gaze lingered.

Bert hadn’t ever really known what it felt like to be objectified. He had read about such things, sure. But him? He had his father’s nose, his grandfather’s hairline, and his mother’s ears. His physique was not exactly impressive. His hygiene was par, mostly. He assumed this was about as close as he’d ever come to objectification. Somehow, he thought it would be cooler.

“Wait, um…”

She walked out from behind the counter, removing her jacket and letting it drop to the floor. She unhooked her duty belt, which made a loud thump as it dropped. She stopped right in front of him, her eyes steadily turning red. She reached up for his tie…

“Oof!”

The door behind Bert burst open, smashing him between the shoulderblades and causing him to lurch forward. Disoriented, he heard a voice from behind.

“You can’t have him – he’s mine!” screamed Dr. Park, stepping over Bert and launching herself at Sonjanita. He watched the two hit, kick, and claw each other across the lobby, blocking the entrance. Neither gave way, stopping only to growl or spit out a tooth. Bert scrambled up and, seeing no way out, ran back down the hall toward a different stairwell. He ran up one flight of stairs, then down another to a hallway which to the side entrance. The door was alarmed but he didn’t care. Maybe the alarm was a good thing, he thought. He’d haul ass through there, through the parking lots to his car, then punch it in autodrive straight to the CCA. He didn’t know what kind of craziness this was. He’d let the authorities sort it out. Then, he’d sit down with his family and have the best damn dinner in months.

3

Bert reached the side entrance and saw another security guard blocking it, her back to him. She was short. Her uniform and accompanying gear almost looked too big. She spoke repeatedly into a comms unit, seemingly frustrated. Probably trying to reach Sonjanita, he thought. She must be the one she was talking to. What was the name she said? Kels? This new officer hadn’t noticed him yet. Behind him, he heard Dr. Park and Sonjanita struggling, screaming. Getting closer.

“Officer?”

She turned around, looking down as she stuck her comms unit onto her belt.

“Are you Kels? We’ve got to get out of here. Your friend and Dr. Park, there’s something…”

She looked up. She was young, maybe half his age. She had short, dark hair tied back and wore two earrings on her left ear. It was only then that he noticed her face. Under normal circumstances, anyone would consider her beautiful. But, her face. It was rigid, contorted in an all-encompassing anguish. Her mouth quivered into a snarl, her teeth grinding as a thin trail of spittle dripped down.

They locked eyes for a second, just long enough for Bert to see her gaze widen. She recognized him, even though he was positive they’d never met. Her expression softened into one of… longing? She licked her lips, screamed with apparent delight, and ran at him.

“Um, wait, I…” he said, putting his hands in front of him. He decided not to finish his sentence and instead turned and ran.

He burst through a doorway, frantically looked around for something – anything – to put between them. He spied two metal cabinets, each about his height. He heard her coming up behind him, almost through the doors. In one surprisingly quick motion, Bert deftly knocked over one cabinet then another, causing them to crash into each other with a loud bang and block the doors. Right as they landed, he heard an equally loud thud, followed by two more, as she flung herself repeatedly at the doors. He thought it would hold but took a step back. In between fits of screaming and sobbing, Bert watched her small, well-manicured fingers jabbing through the narrow gap in between the doors. With each jab, she broke another nail, yet continued trying to pry the doors.

He noticed she wore the same shade of nail polish as Priya. Wiping his forehead with his sleeve, he thought about her. How poised she always was. How mortified she would be if she had acted so out of control. He felt bad for this security guard. And the other. And for Dr. Park, even if she was kind of persnickety. Who makes such a big deal out of a sandwich, really? None of them deserved this. No one should be put in this position, he thought. It was like they were on drugs, and he was the drug, and they desperately needed another hit.

It was then that Bert realized what happened.

He didn’t know how specifically, but he knew.

“Look, miss, you’ll be ok! Promise! I can fix this. You – you just wait here. I’ll be back.”

He had to get back to the lab. Dr. Gao might still be there. He remembered she was finishing up in the Clean Room. She even told him to say hi to his mother-in-law. They volunteered at the same animal shelter. Dr. Gao would know what to do.

Bert flung open the stairwell door and half sprinted, half tripped upstairs until he – barely – made it to the fourth floor. The fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed above him as he paused to catch his breath. He needed to rest, but sucked it up and ploughed forward. He couldn’t hear any of his ‘suitors’. He wondered if they could track him. Was it pheromones? Did they somehow gain heightened acuity? How did they even get exposed? Was it airborne, throughout the whole building? Why wasn’t he affected? Sweat dripped into the cracked lenses of his glasses.

Bert ran down the hallway as fast as he could, which was still not exceptionally fast, while rummaging through his pockets for his keycard. He heard the scraping sound of metal cabinets incrementally being pushed across the floor, from downstairs. He felt the lanyard, yanked it out, and watched the keycard sail through the air in front of him. In a surprisingly athletic motion for someone so averse to gym memberships, he dove for it, catching it in one hand while landing in front of the lab door. Staggering up, he pressed the card against the keypad. He pulled open the door, ducked inside, and shut it behind him.

Bert raced past rows of centrifuges, incubators, microscopes, and far too many autoclaves. He took a left at the dry lab, blew past the instrumentation area, then stopped at the decontamination room. It was a dual-door airlock system, with a PPE station and chemical shower inside, along with a table and chairs and a bench for changing into Q-Cell suits. He peered into the window and saw one person still in the clean room beyond it. He couldn’t tell who it was but, judging by their size and the fact that everyone else had left, he knew it was her. She turned and was just about to leave the clean room and enter the decon room. The light above the door flashed green. Seeing this, he rushed in, waving at her.

“Dr. Gao!” he gasped, “Go back inside the clean room! Now!” Her eyes widened. She stepped back inside, shutting the door. Bert motioned to the intercom system in the clean room mounted on the wall behind her, then pointed to one by him.

She paused, peering at him. He knew that look, even through her face shield. It was the ‘teacher looking at a misbehaving student’ look. She walked over to her intercom and held down a button. Not breaking eye contact, she spoke into the microphone.

“Dr. Brenner?” she asked. Her voice sounded small, tinny.

“Dr. Gao, I am soooo glad you’re still here,” he huffed, adjusting his sweaty tie while pressing the intercom button with his elbow. “We’ve got a problem! It’s like what happened before, but kind of opposite!”

“I thought you left. Wasn’t your mother-in-law coming to dinner?”

“I did leave. I mean, I tried,” he gasped, still wheezing from the run.

“Bert, you look terrible. Tell me what happened. In detail.”

And he did.

4

“So I came here as fast as I could,” he said, sitting at a table across from her on the other side of the tempered glass. She sat there, considering every response he had given her to numerous questions. He could see the gears turning. She was easily the smartest person he had ever met. An M.D. and a Ph.D. by 25. More Science Directorate grants than PanTech could dream of using, not to mention all those patents. Dr. Gao was his mentor, his friend, and the best boss he’d ever had. If anyone could figure this out, it’d be her.

“That’s everything?” she asked, removing her face shield.

“That’s it. It’s gotta be from one of the newer samples, 45, 46, maybe,” he said, running his fingers through his matted hair.

She walked over to the door and pressed two buttons. The light above it switched from red to green. Bert heard the rush of air escaping as she opened the door and sat down at the table across from him.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” he asked, inching his chair back slightly. “I’m pretty sure it’s airborne and…”

“It’s fine. We’re safe in here,” she said, removing her face shield and adjusting her shoulder length, grey hair.

“Safe? Are you sure?” he said, glancing behind him.

“Trust me, it’s fine. Now, how do you think we should handle this?”

“How do I..? We get outta here as fast as possible,” he said, motioning with his thumb. “We go to the CCA, tell them everything, let them handle it. Priya made dinner…”

“Let’s not be hasty. Once the CCA knows, they will have to report this to Homeland. That… won’t go well. After that last incident, Homeland could deny us further funding and possibly rescind our current grants. We could lose a third of our staff and half our labs.”

“They wouldn’t do that. All we do is crank out the wins for them. They can’t launch Orbiter 9 without us.”

“They certainly could. I’ve made my share of enemies, some of whom are now quite influential. They would be happy to see us fail.”

“If we can’t call CCA then what’s the plan?”

“We’ll need to lock down the entire building – full L2 quarantine mode. Doors to each floor will be magnetically locked, as will all elevators and stairwells. Security has all the codes for that.”

“Right, but there’s only two here and they’re both after me like dogs on a steak.”

“We can work around that. I know where they store those codes. Get down to the main checkpoint and patch me through to the video feed,” she gestured to a ceiling-mounted camera. “I’ll walk you through it.”

“What if they find me first?”

“It’s a big building. They could be over in the annex for all we know.”

Bert nodded. He definitely did not want to go back out there and still thought they should call the CCA, but trusted her judgment.

“Of course,” she said, sighing and standing up, “the real problem is that.” She pointed to his hands.

“Right. Um, what, specifically?”

“That. Your ring.” She walked around to his side of the table.

Bert glanced down at his hands. He had only ever worn one ring. He stared at his plain, gold wedding band, then looked back up at her.

“My wedding ring?”

“Yes. That needs to come off. Immediately.”

“Crap, is it contaminated or something? Is the gold somehow conductive to the compound?” He attempted to slide it off, but it wouldn’t budge. “I don’t think I’ve taken it off since Priya and I were married…”

“Remove it now.”

“It’s.. it’s stuck.”

“If you don’t yank that ring off right now, I’ll do it for you!” she shouted, stepping closer.

“It’s really stuck, I…”

“That damn ring is the only thing that ties you to her. You don’t need it. You don’t need her,” she hissed. “She can’t possibly love you as much as I do!”

“Wait, what? Dr. Gao, are you…”

“Give it to me!” She lunged at him, knocking him over in his chair.

“Whoa! Hold on! Owww! Get off me!”

They rolled around the ground, her clawing at his ring finger and him desperately trying to shield it without injuring her. She elbowed him in the face, catching him off-guard long enough to grab his finger with both hands and bend it back. Bert felt a sharp, intense pop as a wave of pain tore through his body. Instinctively, he kicked her off, sending her flying into the corner. She didn’t move. He could hear her breathing. He could also hear himself breathing, even more heavily than before. After this was over, he swore that gym membership was his top priority.

Then he looked at his hand.

And his finger, which was at an almost perfect, 90° angle.

He howled in sweaty, desperate agony, lurching around the room, clutching his injured finger. He was about to scream even louder but noticed Dr. Gao stirring. Eying the door, Bert yanked off his tie and stuck it in his mouth. He looked longingly at his finger, debating whether or not to actually do this, then saw Dr. Gao moving. He bit down hard on his tie, then quickly yanked his finger straight again. A lightning bolt of agony tore through him, followed by a stifled shriek he knew he didn’t have time for. Bert took the tie out of his mouth, wrapped his hand, bounded back to the lab entrance, and left.

He wondered if she could get out. She probably had her keycard nearby, but maybe didn’t know how to use it in that state. He didn’t want to find out. All he cared about was getting to the CCA. Nothing else mattered – not the grants, not the staff. Not the lab. He flung open the stairwell door and hustled down the stairs.

Why were there only women here so late, he wondered. Why as a gender did they all have such a strong work ethic? There wasn’t a single guy left in the building, except him.

And that old dude, the custodian. Sidney?

Sidney!

5

Bert raced back up the stairs, his chest heaving. Priya would call this ‘good cardio’ – whatever that meant. He tried to focus on something other than his labored breathing. Tikka, he thought, gripping the stairwell railing with both hands. Saag paneer. Vindaloo samosas. He thought about how much he enjoyed watching the steam escape from them when he broke them open.

He pressed one sweaty palm against the door and half burst, half collapsed into the hallway. He looked around for the custodian, but didn’t see him. He paused, listening. Sweat rolled down his forehead. His armpits were swimming. Then, he heard the faint sounds of the floor buffer. He ran down the hall, took a quick left, and saw him methodically buffing away.

“Hey! Hello!”

The man barely glanced up at Bert, smiled and nodded as he did earlier, then continued buffing the floor.

“Hey!!”

The man stopped, looked up at Bert, slowly lifting one side of his headphones. “Wassup?” He said, gruffly.

“We gotta get out of here – now! We gotta get to the CCA!”

“What?” he said, removing his headphones and switching off the buffer.

“We’re not safe here!”

“We’re not?” He looked around the corridor, then quickly glanced behind Bert.

“Sidney, right?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m Bert,” he said, still wheezing from the stairs. “I–I work upstairs, in the lab.”

“I know who you are. I know who alla you are. You guys walk right by us, every day. Like we don’t exist.”

“Yeah, look. I’m real sorry about that. I…”

The older man broke out into a big smile. “Just messin’ with you. Maybe. Call me Sid. You look lousy, by the way.”

Bert nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Look, Sid. There’s women. Four. They’re roaming the building. They’re after me.”

“They’re what?”

“There’s a bunch of women in the building. They’re all, like, totally in love with me. Seriously. We gotta go.”

“You got four women in love with you?” he asked, pulling out his glasses and cleaning them on his sleeve. “And that’s a problem?”

“I know this sounds crazy. They’re in love with me, but it’s… not natural. It’s because of this new atmospheric compound we’re working on, for Orbiter 9. It’s gotta be. It’s… it’s not supposed to have this effect. I gotta figure out how to counter it, but I can’t do it now. It’s like they’re crazy – dangerous, even.”

“You and your lab buddies made some sort of love potion?” he asked, smirking.

“It’s not supposed to be that,” Bert said, exasperated. “I know how this sounds, ok? It’s… a long story. I promise to tell you all about it on the way to the CCA. They’ll report up to Homeland from there. But we have to get out of here. I’m parked in Lot J, which is…”

“Lot J? If they’re as bad off as you say, they’d see us before we got halfway there.”

“You got a better idea?”

“Well, I…”

A loud, guttural sound erupted from somewhere downstairs, echoing through the stairwell nearby. Was it screaming? Snarling? Sobbing? There were no discernable words, but they could hear the anguish, the rage. Then nothing. Then it came through again, even louder – this time joined by at least two other voices, one higher pitched and the other lower. The wailings intertwined, weaving together in a desperate cacophony of longing, of despair. Then they synchronized. Paused. Started again in short bursts. Then paused again. Searching.

Bert and Sid locked eyes.

“Is that… echolocation?” asked Bert.

“I can get the groundskeeper truck,” Sid whisper-screamed. “Pull around front with it. You run out when the coast is clear, hop in, we leave. You explain the whole thing to CCA. Then we’re done. I go back to polishing floors and listenin’ to bagpipes.”

“Right. Wait, bagpipes? Really?”

Sid frowned. “Deal?”

“Um, yes. Deal.”

Sid nodded. Pulling out a heavy ring of keys, he turned his back to Bert and trudged down the hallway.

“Wait! Why don’t I go with you?”

“Nope,” he said, still walking.

“Wouldn’t it be, y’know, more efficient?”

“They’re after you, not me. Wait for me by the stairwell to the side of the main entrance. There’s a window by the railings there. When you see me with the truck, you haul-ass outta here. I’m leaving with or without you.”

“Ok,” Bert nodded, trying not to imagine being left stranded in the building with a bunch of highly educated, feral women. “Got it.”

Sid disappeared down a side door, leaving Bert to his anxious misery.

6

He could hear them. Wailing. Searching. Four distinct calls now. Getting closer. Dr. Gao must’ve escaped from the lab. Bert stood in the stairwell, his back pressed against the wall, his face stinging, his finger aching, his gaze riveted to the window. He imagined the sweatstains on his shirt made him look ridiculous, but didn’t care. He would’ve run out there naked if that helped. He imagined doing so would only make things worse, given that these women had already been driven wild with desire for him. One flash of his sizable bare butt might send them over the edge.

Finally, headlights!

He sprinted downstairs then crouched behind a potted plant by the entrance, peeking out just enough to see chaos unfolding. The four women — Dr. Park, Sonjanita, Kels, and Dr. Gao — converged in the center of the lobby, each scanning the area with wild, bloodshot eyes. Dr. Gao still wore remnants of her Q-Cell suit. Their movements were erratic, primal, like predators circling prey. Bert’s heart pounded as he realized they were communicating in short, guttural bursts.

He ducked lower, hoping the plant would mask his scent. It didn’t. Dr. Park’s head snapped in his direction, her eyes narrowing. She shrieked and pointed, and the others turned in unison. Bert bolted from his hiding spot, slipping on the polished floor and crashing into a trash bin. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his twisted finger, and hurtled toward the exit. The women gave chase, their cries echoing behind him in a chorus of obsession.

As he reached the door, headlights flared outside. Sid’s truck skidded to a halt. Bert flung the door open, dove into the passenger seat, and slammed it shut behind him. Sid hit the gas and the truck roared away from the building, leaving the crazed women behind, their faces twisted in anguish and desire.

The truck roared down the narrow road from the parking lot, kicking up gravel as the wheels spun, putting more distance between them and their pursuers. Bert looked behind them. They were definitely still chasing, but getting smaller. Strong work ethic, he thought. His heart finally stopped racing.

“We still going to the CCA?” asked Sid, clearly panicked.

“Definitely. They’ll lock down the whole zone.” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “We gotta stop this from spreading! Those women need help, too. They don’t deserve this – especially not Dr. Gao.”

Sid nodded, furtively checking the rearview mirror. Bert exhaled. He leaned back into his seat. Slowly, the weight lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting to Priya and the twins, to tikka, to samosas. He assumed vegetable biryani was 50-50, best-case scenario. After the night he’d had, he was totally fine with that. He should probably eat more vegetables anyway, right? Between eating better and all the cardio he just got, he thought maybe this could be a turning point for him – a chance to reset, to live healthier.

Then, he felt the truck… slow down? His eyes popped open as it rolled to a stop. He quickly glanced behind them and could see the women, still far back, but running full speed in their direction. He glared at Sid, still clutching the steering wheel, his face partly in the shadows.

“What – what are you doing? Are you nuts?!”

“Bert…”

“They’ll catch up to us in, like, a minute! Floor it! Floor it, man!”

“Bert, I…”

“What? What the Fek’s wrong?”

Sid slowly looked over at him, his eyes tearing up.

“I’ve been wantin’ to say it. I couldn’t come up with the words. I… I love you.”

Leaves tumbled down from the tree canopy, blowing across the road, the truck, and into the cool stillness of the night.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Paul Cesarini 2026

Image Source: Jonathan Cooper from Unsplash.com