The Multiple One

The closer they got to the surface, the less pain Devi felt, as rapidly accelerating worry instead drowned out the psychical agony.

Dr. Angelopoulos stood next to the wheelchair, smiling in a motherly way.

“We’re almost there,” the doctor said. “You’re almost free, now.”

The little display above the elevator doors read -20.

As the elevator made its way up the shaft, something black and hideous took root inside her chest, grew larger and larger and spread its tendrils further and further.

She knew this darkness all too well.

It was the terror that used to follow her around, every day and everywhere, back when she was one of the living dead of Stockbridge Boulevard.

This was the first time since she came to the Institute, that she’d felt like this again.

It was like a fire that she got closer and closer to, flames seemingly awaiting her in the lobby.

She thought of the friends she’d had back then. Those that weren’t withering away in prison were probably dead by now, murdered or OD’d or dead from infections of some sort.

I hate that place, she thought. I’m not going back, not stepping foot there again.

She’s not making me. I won’t let her.

Devi looked around, careful not to move her head. The chair came with wheel locks, always within reach of the person sitting in it.

The display above the elevator doors now showed -6, written in blood red letters.

“You sure this is a good idea?” she said.

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Angelopoulos said. “Everything’s gonna be alright.”

“I don’t know if I… have what it takes to go through with this,” Devi replied.

The doctor put her hand on Devi’s shoulder, a display of dominance as much as it was one of kindness.

“I understand it might feel a little scary,” she said. “But as soon as we bust you out of here you’re gonna get better. You’ll be able to do what you want, again. Go wherever you please. Don’t you want that?”

The elevator stopped. The doors slid apart.

“I don’t know,” Devi mumbled.

She could see the lobby now, clean and minimalist, all a mix of concrete, marble, teak, brass, and glass.

At the other end of the wide-open foyer was a big wall of glass and metal, and large revolving glass doors. Appalachian vegetation awaited anyone who went through those spinning doors, the bushes, leaves and treetrunks painted in melancholy hues of dusk.

She saw a reception and a receptionist, as well as a security guard with a holstered taser and a nightstick.

Dr. Angelopoulos placed herself behind the wheelchair, grabbed ahold of its handles, and pushed it forward. Devi hit the breaks before they got out of the elevator.

“What are you—”

“I don’t want to leave here,” Devi said, keeping her hands on the stops. “I changed my mind.”

The security guard looked their way. He didn’t seem agitated or annoyed, but curious and a little suspicious.

“Please,” Dr. Angelopoulos pleaded, quietly. “This is not the time for cold feet.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“We had a deal, Devi. You can’t back out now.”

Dr. Angelopoulos made another attempt at pushing the chair, this time with much more power behind her push. She did manage to move the wheelchair a couple of inches, despite the stops.

The security guard said something into a walkie-talkie and set off towards the elevator, right hand resting on his taser like a cop ready to draw his gun with seconds’ notice.

“No,” Devi said. “You made up your mind. You wanted this, this was all your idea. I don’t want to go back out there. I have nothing, there. No one.”

“I said I’ll help you, once you get out of here,” Dr. Angelopoulos hissed. “Now let go of the brakes.”

“You okay?” the security guard said.

He stood close to the open pair of doors, yet kept a safe distance.

“Yes,” Dr. Angelopoulos said with faked cheerfulness. “Just taking the patient out for an evening stroll around the premises.”

The guard looked at Devi. It took him a moment to realize she had no singular, coherent appearance but was rather a collection of bodies battling for control. This seemed to cause great unease, which in turn made him even more suspicious.

“Ma’am, I—… I… uh… I’m gonna have to see some credentials,” he said, backing further away from the elevator. Subtly, he waved to Dr. Angelopoulos, to come and join him.

“Here,” she said as she stepped out of the elevator, holding up her laminated ID card.

She confidently placed it in his trembling hand.

The guard eyed the card carefully, front and back, as if he was already convinced that it was faked and that his task now was simply to find that one error that gave the whole forgery away.

Devi pushed one of the buttons.

She forced herself out of the chair, up on her feet.

This was a herculean task that demanded complete and constant focus, so much so that she couldn’t make out a single word exchanged by the doctor and the security guard.

Pain shot up and down her body, every single cell aching.

She staggered forth.

She raised her arms.

Just as the doors began to close she lunged forward, pushing Dr. Angelopoulos in the back. Taken completely by surprise, the doctor fell and landed face down on the polished marble floor of the lobby.

The security guard stood frozen in shock and just watched as the elevator doors shut and Devi began her descent.

She half turned, arm extended, trying to grab hold of the wheelchair, but the pain was just too much.