LIFE AMONGST THE INSECTS

Tim Jeffreys

 

Following the episode Catherine’s security clearance for the facility’s sub-zero levels had been revoked.

No one in charge at the facility had been brave enough to impart this information directly. Doctor Erickson—the on-site psychiatrist Catherine had been assigned to—said he thought it best she avoided the underground levels, the D-corridor in particular. He’d also informed her that her colleague, Doctor Sunny Rashid, would be overseeing all subjects in this area from now on. But no one had actually told her she was barred. No, they let her discover for herself.

She’d only been back on duty two days, when her urge—no it wasn’t an urge, it was a need—when her need to visit the D-corridor overwhelmed her. Instead of making for the canteen at one o’clock with her colleagues, she let the others walk on ahead. She then turned back with a muttered oh damn and a pat at her pockets, trying to act as if she’d forgotten something. It was only when she arrived at the lower floors’ entrance door that she discovered the truth. At a swipe of her ID badge the reader flashed red and an alarm honked—startling her. The automatic door remained closed.

Besides blocking her entrance, Catherine knew that the reader would have registered her attempt at access. She had no doubt that, once those in charge at the facility were notified, this would result in another period of restricted duties, and more sessions with Doctor Erickson. Though she knew this as a certainty—after all, she’d watched it happen before hadn’t she? to others?—Catherine was compelled to pass her ID a second time over the reader, as if she thought the first refusal had been a mistake. Again, there was a honking sound and a flash of red. Catherine was surprised at the fury that rose up in her then. She let out a short, frustrated scream but managed to stop herself from smashing a fist into the reader. Turning from the door, she rested against the cold concrete wall and began to take deep breaths, clenching and unclenching her fists until her anger dissipated. On the wall in front of her was a laminated poster giving evacuation instructions for the underground levels in case of a fire. Directly above this, a fire axe had once been mounted. The two brass hooks the axe had once rested on remained, as did a faint imprint on the wall. Seeing this made Catherine think of the grey tennis bag back at her apartment, the one she had long ago shoved to the back of her wardrobe. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes in an attempt to clear her mind.

What am I doing? Have to get it together. Have to get my head straight.

Yet all she could think about was whether there was another way into the underground levels, some other way to the D-corridor, to reach Room MB-314. Waiting here for someone to come along, then tailgating her way in wasn’t an option. Staff working in the sub-zero levels would’ve been warned to look out for this. Perhaps if she explained…perhaps if she could just make them understand…

“Catherine?”

Turning, she saw Sunny Rashid approaching from the direction of the stairwell. He wore his white lab coat and carried a clipboard. He was a tall man, barely into his thirties, handsome and well-groomed, with thick black hair slicked back from his forehead and dark eyes always twinkling with suggestion.

“It’s Doctor Mander when we’re on duty, if you don’t mind,” she told him, moving away from the wall.

“That seems a little formal, considering our history.”

“You and I don’t have a history.”

“Really? Am I that forgettable?”

She knew full well what he was referring to. The previous year, late one evening when they’d been alone together looking over subject notes in one of the meeting rooms, he’d begun flattering her. It had been a long time since anyone had paid her that kind of attention and to her acute embarrassment she’d let the situation escalate and had ended up having sex with him up against the meeting room door. Only days after did she notice his wedding band. No doubt he had a young wife, and maybe even children housed somewhere off base. The next time she found herself alone with him, she told him in no uncertain terms how much she regretted what had happened and how unprofessional she thought they’d been. There had followed an awkward period when he wouldn’t accept this. She’d had to make a real effort not to be alone with him, because every time they were alone he would start telling her what a great time he’d had that evening in the meeting room.

We’ve got crazy chemistry, you and me, Catherine, he would say. Intense chemistry. I’ve never felt anything like that with anyone.

Not even your wife?

She’d expected him to be embarrassed when she said this, but instead he laughed. When you and I got together, Catherine, it was like—boom boom boom—fireworks.

Am I supposed to be flattered?

Didn’t you feel it too?

No, she told him. And it won’t be happening again.

He had sulked for a while, then seemed at last to accept the situation. He still, however, insisted on addressing her informally wherever they met which she had long begun to find irksome.

Looking at her now, he had a smug, questioning look on his face which made her want to slap him. He glanced from her face to the closed door.

“I expected this,” he said in a resigned tone.

“What? What did you expect?”

“You’re still not recovered, Catherine.”

“Like I said, it’s Doctor Mander.”

“You’re trying to get back to MB-314, aren’t you?”

She had to think fast. “Of course not,” she said, retaining her indignant air. “Actually, I was looking for you. I thought you might be having trouble deciphering some of my notes. I wanted to make sure…”

“I did look over your notes,” he said. “But to be honest I couldn’t make much sense of them. I’m not sure what it was you were doing all those months.”

“I was doing my research, as instructed.”

“Yes, until you had that little meltdown over MB-314. The technician downstairs—Jean is it?—still can’t close her right hand properly. I heard it took five of them to pin you down. And where is it they’ve stuck you now?”

“Stuck me?”

“What are you studying now?”

“Don’t play dumb, Doctor Rashid, you know what I’m studying now.”

“Ah, yes. That’s right. The east wing, isn’t it? With the molluscs. The Christmas tree light of the animal kingdom. Very boring.”

Catherine felt her anger surge again. She hid her clenched fists behind her back. “I wouldn’t say that. The octopus, for example...”

“Yes, the octopus! The mimic. I forgot about him. He’s an interesting creature, isn’t he? It’s almost as if he’s thinking, don’t you agree? Plotting. Pretending to be a female crab, so he can lure a male crab and eat it. Pretending to be a sea snake so predators will leave him alone. Cunning little fellow. Devious.”

“Hardly. It’s instinct. Survival. It’s how he’s programmed.”

“Yes. He’s just using what he’s got. His own particular set of charms, if you like. Like we all are.” He laughed. “It’s hardly real metamorphosis though, it is? He’s nothing, is he, compared to the subjects downstairs. They don’t just impersonate, they actually…” He paused. He looked into her face and smiled. “When a mimic octopus pretends to be a sea snake, does he actually thinks he is a sea snake, do you think?”

“I…of course not.”

“You think he knows he’s still an octopus?”

“I shouldn’t imagine he thinks at all. Like I said, it’s instinct.”

He smiled again. “And what about our subjects downstairs? After they change, after they become, do you think they remember what they were before? What they are? What they really are?”

“I…I wouldn’t know. There’s a chance they could become confused. Over time. I suppose they could become conditioned to believe…My research wasn’t complete. I’d need to carry out further studies.”

“Imagine if they did forget. Then imagine what would happen if you introduced a trigger to remind them. They’d begun believing they were one thing, then you tell them that they’re actually something else, and that they’re just impersonating the thing they think they are. What do you think would happen?”

“That’s…yes…that’s an interesting hypothesis. I’d be very interested to work on that study with you. Definitely.”

He sighed and shook his head; and she saw that he’d been humouring her. “You know the lower floors are off limits to you now, don’t you? The subjects down there…you’re vulnerable.”

Incensed, she snapped at him. “No one actually told me I was barred. All they said was that I should try and stay away.”

“Still it has to hurt. How many years did you work here before they let you go below ground? It only took three for me. I knew as soon as I saw all the paperwork they wanted me to sign that they had something really interesting down there. More interesting than rain frogs and cuttlefish.”

“The work we’re doing above ground is just as important.”

“So what’re you coming here for now?”

“I told you, I—”

Reaching past her, he swiped his ID badge across the door’s reader. The door began to glide open. He stood for a moment, staring at Catherine, a half-smile on his lips; as if he were waiting to see what she might do, like she was one of his subjects. The urge to enter was so strong she bit her lip until it hurt. In the end, it was Sunny who moved forward and slipped inside just as the door began to close again.

“Good day. Doctor Mander.”

 

She’d been correct, of course. Her attempt at entering the sub-zero levels led to her being relieved from duties that afternoon, and the next day she was back in Doctor Erickson’s office. He was a man in his seventies, with white wisps of hair scraped across his bald pate. He assumed a fatherly air which she found irritating. He wanted to know what her attachment was to the subject in Room MB-314; or rather what she believed her attachment was. He wanted to understand, he said, why she was so insistent on trying to get back to the underground levels when she’d been encouraged—his word—to stay away. As in her previous sessions with him, Catherine told him she couldn’t remember what had provoked the episode. Whatever it was, she was over it now. She’d only attempted access to the sub-zero levels to check that Doctor Rashid could understand her notes, not having realised she was barred.

“How long have you worked here, Catherine?”

“I…”

“Fifteen years, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So you know how dangerous these subjects can be. You understand why any attachments have to be closely monitored. If one of them managed to escape again and happened to go topside…”

“Yes, of course,” Catherine said. “But I can assure you I have no attachment to the subject in Room MB-314.”

“And that day? The incident?”

“I… I was overworked. I needed a break. All those months underground...”

She could see that he didn’t believe her. It didn’t matter. She was not going to tell him the truth. How could she? What would happen if those in charge at the facility knew what she’d really seen that day they introduced her to the new subject in room MB-314?

“You know you’re important to the facility here, Doctor Mander,” Erickson said. “Your expertise in the field is unmatched. But if you start to lose focus…”

 

Two weeks later, when Catherine was once again cleared to return to her duties, she found she’d been demoted to the west wing with the insects. They wanted her to spend some time studying a particular beetle which could change colour to blend in with its background. The beetle could also change the finish on its skin, from shiny to dull by filling and un-filling tiny grooves in its shell with moisture. Clever, yes. But not as interesting as the mimic octopus; and not in the same league as those subjects kept below ground. Despite everything she’d discussed with Doctor Erickson, Catherine couldn’t stop herself trying to figure out a way into the sub-zero levels.

The evenings were warm now. After work she would drag a recliner out onto the balcony of her apartment and gaze beyond the low buildings that made up the facility at the flat scrubland beyond. Every half hour or so a security guard with two leashed Alsatian dogs would pass in front of her vision as they made a circuit of the perimeter fence. She would watch them remotely. The confused memories she’d been grappling with ever since the day of the incident turned over in her mind. At times, she was able to grasp something, some idea of what these images meant.

I had a life outside of here once. I had a family.

Yet all she could remember of that time were blurred images, fuzzy colours, muffled sounds, feelings.

She knew the only way she would make sense of these memories was to get back to where it had all started, back to room MB-314.

Trying to figure out a way to do this kept her awake at night.

Over time, a plan began to formulate in her mind.

 

She began taking lunch later in the day. She knew that Sunny Rashid often got so embroiled in his work he would forget about eating until the growls of his stomach became impossible to ignore. He’d been that way for as long as she’d known him; eating just wasn’t a priority. When he could no longer ignore the demands of his stomach, he would head for the canteen, by which time most of the other workers at the facility had returned to their posts.

She could remember how he used to joke about it. Had to eat lunch all by myself again today.

One day when she ventured into the canteen, she found Sunny sitting alone at a table. The canteen was otherwise empty apart from two women in coveralls who were clearing and wiping over the tables. Sunny eyed her warily when she approached him.

“Mind if I join you?”

With a shrug, he returned his attention to a laptop on the table to one side of his tray of food. Catherine pulled out a chair opposite him. After sitting down, she glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot.

“Something I can help you with, Doctor Mander?” he said without looking up from the laptop’s screen.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Congratulations.”

Catherine took a deep breath, releasing the anger that had flared inside her when she exhaled. When she spoke, her voice was calm. “I’ve been thinking that perhaps you and I should get together again some time?”

He fell still but didn’t look up.

“You know it was good last time, right? You said so yourself.”

He laughed under his breath. “Do you know, Doctor Mander, how transparent you are?”

“Transparent? What’re you talking about?”

“You know there’s nothing I can do to help you. I can’t get you back below ground. I can’t even get you back in with the octopus. They’re watching you. You’re under observation.”

Catherine was silent a moment. She fell back in her chair and gazed at him. “Who said I wanted your help with that? I’ve been lonely, that’s all.” Sitting up, and leaning forward across the table, she lowered her voice as she went on. “All I want is someone to give me a damn good fuck.”

He glanced up and studied her face for a moment. Then, to her surprise, he broke into a laugh. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to the laptop screen.

Stunned, Catherine fell back in her chair. She watched as he reached one hand towards the laptop’s keyboard and ran it across the keys, before pausing and glancing sideways at her.

“If you don’t mind, Doctor Mander, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

 

“You okay, Catherine?”

It was one of the technicians—Kelvin or Calvin his name was; she couldn’t remember which. He was young and keen. His main ambition, like most of the other technicians, was to go sub-zero. When he’d told her this, Catherine could remember thinking: That makes two of us.

“Yes, thank you…” The name wouldn’t come so she skipped it. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Sure,” he said. Then: “Listen, a bunch of us are going over to the east wing. They’re having a little party there for Alex Yates. You know Alex? Well, he’s retiring, so they’re throwing him a little shindig.” He hesitated. “You want to join us?”

Catherine glanced at the clock on the wall. It had just turned five. She’d been hoping to head home around six, sit out on the balcony, see if she could work out a new plan for getting underground.

“I’m just going to finish my notes,” she said. “Maybe I’ll join you in a little while.”

He nodded. “Sure thing.” Then he turned to join the others from the lab who were waiting by the exit door.

Once they were gone, Catherine wondered if she should have joined them. It would look good, she thought, if she socialised. It would make her appear normal. It would win her points if she ended up on Doctor Erikson’s couch again. She waited twenty minutes, then left the lab and headed over to the east wing where she found the party taking place in one of the board rooms. People were clustered together in groups. She noticed people eyeing her and exchanging mutters as she entered. She was surprised to see Sunny there. He stood at the end of the table where bottles of wine and some plastic cups had been set out. He’d been chatting to a young woman—hardly more than a girl really—but he broke off when he saw Catherine.

“Doctor Mander!” he said, raising his cup in a toast to her. She saw at once that he was already tipsy. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll get my own, thank you,” she said, and reached for a bottle of white wine. After pouring a drink she turned away from him and joined in a conversation with some of the people she recognised from her brief stint working on the east wing. She didn’t notice Sunny again until he approached her an hour or so later. By this time, the party guests had started to thin out. A woman in coveralls had entered and begun clearing up.

“I’ve been thinking about that offer you made me earlier,” Sunny said, his mouth close to her ear.

“Really?”

“Yes. Were you serious?”

She looked him in the eye. He appeared to be having trouble focusing his vision. “Quite serious.”

“So does the offer still stand?”

She laughed under her breath. “Why? Are you interested?”

“Maybe there’s an empty meeting room somewhere.”

“Why don’t you come over to my apartment this time?”

She saw his tongue emerge and slide across his upper lip. “When?”

She shrugged. “Why not tonight? Right after you finish here. Bring one of those.” She pointed towards the table where there were still a few unopened bottles of wine. “You can tell your wife you’re working late.”

He gazed at her for a long moment as if he were still searching for some pretence. She tilted her head to the side, and shrugged again. She cast her eyes about the remaining guests.

“If you’re not up for it, maybe I can ask Doctor Harrow from the…”

“No. I’ll be there.”

“It’s a date then?”

He gave a barely perceptible nod; then glanced up towards the corner of the room.

“There’re no security cameras in here,” Catherine said, following his gaze. “And there aren’t any in my apartment. There, we can do whatever we like.”

 

Sunny lay in her bed, grinning and smoking a cigarette. He had one arm folded behind his head.

“You can’t deny that we have something special, Catherine. With you it’s like—whoosh!—I can’t describe it. It’s something else entirely. Where’d you learn to fuck like that?”

Catherine picked up a handful of clothes from the floor and tossed them to him. “You’d better get dressed.”

He made no move to get up from the bed.

She picked up her bra and panties from the floor and put them on. She tried not to look at Sunny’s lab coat which he’d draped over a chair in the corner of the room. When she did look, she could see the ID card clipped to the lapel.

“How’s life amongst the insects?” he said.

“Oh, Sunny, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

He laughed. “You know what I mean. How’s working on the west wing?”

“Could be worse.”

“I bet you miss being underground though, eh? The subjects there are so fascinating. Do you genuinely believe they have some kind of telepathy, like they can look inside our minds?”

“I doubt it. I should think they base their metamorphosis on people they meet, photographs, maybe even guesswork from what they overhear.”

“Yes. That’s why they tell us not to take photographs or anything like that inside the room with them. They’ll use whatever they can. Did you know one of them escaped once?”

“A very long time ago.”

“Yes. But imagine. It could be anywhere now. It could even still be here at the facility.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

Finishing his cigarette, he sat up at last and swung his feet over the side of the bed. “It’s something new, isn’t it? Their metamorphosis. It’s not about luring prey, or scaring away predators. If they can look inside your mind, and become someone dear to you, then they’ve got you, haven’t they? They can do whatever they want with you.”

“I suppose,” Catherine said.

“Where the hell’s my other shoe got to?”

“Look under the bed.”

Seeing him crouch, she turned towards the chair in the corner of the room and, as casually as she could, picked up his lab coat. She made to straighten it out before she handed it to him, but as she did she yanked the ID badge from the lapel in one small swift movement and dropped it to the floor. Before turning, she kicked the badge under the chair. To her relief, when she turned around, Sunny stood with his back to her, leaning forward and straightening his hair in front of the mirror on her dressing table. Done, he turned and accepted his lab coat which she held out to him.

“Thanks. Say, is that what happened to you, Catherine?”

“Happened to me?” she said, smiling.

“Did MB-314 get inside your mind? Is that why it’s got such a hold on you? Is that why you had that meltdown? When it metamorphosised, did it become something…” He stood gazing into her face, looking for a reaction. “Someone you know?”

“I’m not with you.”

“You know it’s happened before? The subject gets inside your mind, then it finds something to become, someone close to you. Or someone you’re afraid of. Whatever it needs. It becomes that person and it has you believing it’s them. But it got you, didn’t it? It found something. It became someone you know.”

“That’s not what happened. Honestly.” She ushered him towards the door. “Come on. Your wife’ll be wondering where you’ve got to.”

Sunny swung around and took hold of her at the waist. “I’m in no rush. Why don’t we go again? A quickie. We wouldn’t even have to get undressed.”

“I think you better go.”

He began easing her back towards the bed. “Come on, Catherine. It’s just so fucking good with you. You know I’ve had a thing for you ever since I was an intern and you were overseeing my work with the amphibians. You know that, right?”

“Another time.”

“I can’t wait. I can’t. I have it hard right now.”

He took hold of her hand and tried to force it against his crotch, but she yanked free from him. She gave him a shove towards the door.

“I said another time, Doctor.”

“Fine,” he said. He went to the door and opened it. Before stepping out into the corridor, he turned back to her, his face full of quiet amusement. “Oh, and Catherine...”

“What now?”

“I’ll have my ID badge back, if you don’t mind. I was watching in the mirror when you kicked it under that chair.” He laughed. “I have to say though, nice try. But did you really think that was going to work?”

Fuck! Fuck!

“Listen…” she said. Before she could continue, he placed one finger against her lips.

“Shush. Tell me, Catherine. Just between us. Who do you believe is in that room? In MB-314? Who is the subject impersonating? Maybe if I can understand why it’s so important to you, I can turn a blind eye to all this.”

“It’s not what it’s impersonating,” Catherine said, after a pause. “It’s what it is.”

“And what is it?”

“It’s…it’s my daughter.”

He laughed. Anger passed through her like an itch she couldn’t scratch. Her hands formed into claws. She remembered that surge of power that had come to her the day of the incident.

“What’s so damn funny?”

“Catherine, Catherine, Catherine. You don’t have a daughter.”

“I do! It’s my daughter, Sunny. That’s my daughter in that room.”

He laughed again. She cast her eyes around the room, looking for something to pick up and smash down over his head. Nothing suggested itself. She began talking, the words bubbling out of her. She told him it was only now that she realised that finding her daughter was the only reason she’d remained here at the research centre. She had dim memories of her former life, she told him, the life she’d lived above ground, the life she’d lived before being brought here. A time when she’d had a family. For a long time, she’d believed her daughter was dead. Then she started to think that maybe she was alive, that she was in hiding, and that one day she would see her again. The day of the incident was the day she’d first been introduced to the new subject in MB-314, and discovered to her joy that the subject was her own child.

When she finished talking, Sunny was looking at her with his head drawn back and his eyes narrowed.

“Catherine, what the hell are you talking about? Are you losing it? Seriously, are you?”

“I’m trying to explain. I’m trying to make you understand. My daughter…”

“You don’t have a daughter, Catherine. MB-314 has done something to you. It’s scrambled your brain. Either that or you’re trying to bullshit me. You always used to tell me how much you hated children. And besides…”

“I had a daughter once, a long time ago, and I had a mate.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A mate?”

She shook her head, realising the mistake she’d made. “I…I mean a husband. I had a husband. Once.”

“Crap. What sort of game are you playing? That person in MB-314 couldn’t possibly be your daughter. Impersonation or no impersonation.”

“Why do you say that?”

He moved his face close to her own. “Because it’s at least twenty years older than you. And it’s male.”

He shrugged on his jacket and moved towards the door.

“Are you going to give me my ID badge back, or do I have to file a report?”

“I’ll get it.”

She turned towards the chair in the corner of the room and then she saw it, the thing she’d been looking for earlier. It was a bottle of red wine Sunny had brought with him which they hadn’t got around to drinking. He’d put it down on the chair then covered it with his lab coat so they’d both forgotten about it.

“I’m waiting,” Sunny said. She glanced back at him. He was leant against the doorframe, staring at a mobile phone which he must have taken from his jacket pocket. “Shit,” he muttered to himself. “Was that today? Shit.” He glanced up. “Come on. Let’s speed this up. I’ve got other places to be. Get it, Catherine. Hurry up.”

Catherine moved forward until she stood beside the chair, then turned to face the wall, putting her back to him.

“Get it yourself.”

He let out a long sigh. “Really, Catherine, this is getting seriously tiresome.”

She listened to his footsteps cross the room. Glancing around, she saw him crouched behind her, grouping under the chair for his ID badge. He had sobered up some, but his movements were still a little clumsy. Casually, she turned, picked up the bottle of wine, raised it in her two hands, and—summoning all her repressed rage—brought it crashing down onto his head.

Straightening up, drawing ragged breaths, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the dressing table. Finding the broken neck of the wine bottle still in her hand, she flung it in disgust at the face staring back at her, shattering the mirror.

After this she turned and went into the bedroom and opened her wardrobe. Reaching towards the back, she groped around until she felt the handle of the tennis bag.

 

She waited until nightfall, then she put Sunny’s body—its now various parts neatly packaged in hazardous waste bags—where she had put the other one all those years ago, in a bin at the rear of the facility which she knew to be headed for the incinerator. This took her some time as with each drop she had to wait for the security man with his dogs to pass on his way around the perimeter fence. By the time she had finished it was the early hours of the morning. Returning to her apartment, she took a shower, dressed again and put on her white lab coat. Then she took Sunny’s ID badge and headed for the facility. The mess she left in the apartment could wait until tomorrow.

The lights were off in the corridors and most of the rooms. She left them off, using her hands to find her way when her knowledge of the building failed her. Eventually, she arrived at the entrance door for the sub-zero levels. She felt a little flutter of anxiety before she ran Sunny’s ID badge over the reader, thinking that perhaps he didn’t have afterhours clearance. But no alarm sounded. Instead she heard the door sliding open. Once inside, she found her way to the stairwell and descended as far as the D-corridor. The anticipation was building now. Her heart raced. She heard sounds and calls from some of the rooms along the corridor, but she ignored them and went straight to room MB-314. Sunny’s ID got the door open. Before entering, she flicked on the overhead lights.

On the bunk on the far side of the room lay a small, old and shrunken man. He sat up when she entered, his face showing first confusion, then joy when he recognised her. He reached out his arms and made a noise she understood to mean, “Mama!”

She went to him and embraced him. They gripped on to each other as if they would never let go, but Catherine knew they had to act quickly. She drew back and showed the man Sunny Rashid’s ID badge. She pointed at Sunny’s picture on the badge.

“Him? You remember him?”

The old man looked from the picture to Catherine’s face. He nodded.

“You know what you have to do?”

He nodded again.

“Lie down.”

The old man did as instructed, and Catherine covered him with the sheet. Then she stood and crossed to the door. She swiped the ID badge across the reader and, as the door opened, groped around the wall for the light switches. She turned off all the lights in the room, then stood and held her breath as she listened to the door closing again. Then she felt her way along the wall until she found a chair. She sat down. Already, she could hear noises from the bed, tiny scratchings like the sound of things knitting together.

She hoped they would not be disturbed before morning.