World After

38

A RUMBLING echoes through the cavernous room. Rows of droplets sway, threatening to fall. I hate to think about what will happen if they drop. In my mind, the water is already splashing on the floor and the monster fetuses are uncurling as we run past.

The structure on the ceiling that dangles the rows of droplets slowly shifts back. Is that water splashing behind us or is that my imagination?

The matrix moves back one row, then stops.

The eerie feeling of running through transparent wombs makes me feel even more surreal as the scorpion fetuses change in every row back to humans. By the time we reach the new first row of empty droplets, a hollow clanging of footsteps echoes down the stairs ahead of us. We skid to a stop, looking around.

The only place left to go is the raised office that overlooks the monster matrix. We run up the few steps to the office and rush in.

Doc, the guy in the flannel shirt and jeans, looks up from taking notes on his clipboard in front of an ancient TV set.

Alpha grabs a pen with one hand and grabs Doc’s hair with the other. He points the pen near Doc’s eye, ready to stab.

“I’m going to poke this through your eye unless you get those monsters off our backs,” whispers Alpha. I still think he used to be a company guy, but he looks like he really means it. Maybe life in an office is tougher than I thought.

“One human is as good as another to them,” says Doc staring at the pen. “They won’t be searching for you.”

As if to prove his point, he shifts his eyes toward the large window that overlooks the lab. A group is coming into the factory below us. Several scorpions usher in a line of dirty, naked people.

In front of them is the new row of empty water droplets.

One of the human minions stands in front of the group. We can hear him below us through the open door as he says, “It’ll be better for you to just do as you’re told.” He actually sounds like he believes it and is doing them a favor by letting them in on a secret. “Otherwise, this could be you.” He nods to two of the other minions.

They grab the nearest person and drag him down a few rows, where they shove him into a droplet.

Even from here, I can hear his gurgled scream of muffled terror. The half-formed scorpion jerks as if trying to sting its prey with the stinger it doesn’t yet have, then it latches on with its still human mouth.

I look away while I can.

The naked people in front of the door stand frozen, both mesmerized and horrified.

“Your choice,” says the guy who I assume is the foreman. “You can be like him.” He points to the scorpion victim. “Or you can choose to step into one of these water thingies without any trouble. The first fifteen people to volunteer to go into the water get it.”

Everyone steps forward.

The foreman starts picking people at random and they slip into their watery cages.

“How do I breathe?” asks a large man whose body is already in the droplet with his head sticking out.

One of the human minions shoves the man’s head the rest of the way in without answering.

The question seems to occur to all of them as soon as they’re in the water. I guess the whole situation was so weird and surreal that the victims must have figured these details would be taken care of for them. Or maybe they just assumed they could pop their heads out to breathe.

When they realize that they’re trapped and can’t push back out, their faces shift from anxiety to panic.

The front row of droplets swings and jerks erratically as the new inhabitants freak inside their watery cages. Bubbles fill the droplets as the last of the victims’ precious air seeps out of their mouths. A few scream underwater. Muffled echoes bounce off the walls of the lab.

The remaining people back away, now clearly regretting their decision. But the minions grab them and shove them into the droplets. It’s an easier job for them because I realize now that all the first people they picked were the biggest and strongest of the victims.

By the time it becomes obvious that this is no bargain, only the weakest of the group are left.