What Memory Remains
Chapter 9 (edited)

Alice breathed rhythmically against Zenapharr’s chest, so peaceful in her slumber. Hi oblivious to the world around her. The only other sound was the hypnotic hum of the fluorescent lights in the hallway. Zenapharr sat deathly still, cherishing the child in his arms. Moments before, he’d been silently walking the hallways of the facility when he heard her cries from her cell. She was having a nightmare, and a very bad one. Using his keen sense of stealth, he was able to make his way into her cell.

He remembered how wonderfully strange it felt when he woke her, and her eyes lit up at the sight of him. She threw her arms around him with tears streaming down her face, and he felt the peace that she felt. There was something very fulfilling about cradling her in his arms until she calmed down. He even sang to her, just as his mother had sung to him as a child. It baffled him why he was doing such a thing. It wasn’t something he intended to do and it perplexed him heavily, but something about this little girl had made him act in ways he didn’t understand.

Dr. Monroe asked him numerous questions regarding Alice, fascinated by his actions. She said it was a major breakthrough, a sign that there was hope for his condition. He didn’t think much of it as he still had impulses to kill as he always did, and always followed by that wretchd Voice that urged him on. Around Alice, all the anger…all the things which drove him before had begun to fade.

He’d spent much time with her in the last two weeks, usually as a random occurrence. On his way back from his sessions he would run into her, or at night when he roamed the grounds. It wasn’t too strange considering how her gifts worked. What was strange is how no one seemed to address the issue of him leaving his cell, despite telling Dr. Monroe outright about doing so. As sneaky as he was, he knew they were still monitoring him. Often he felt the eyes of people watching him whenever he decided to stretch his legs, yet no one ever confronted him.

It made sense, though. He had willingly given himself up, not killing anyone in the process. This was perhaps a show of gratitude, especially considering he had been there almost a month now. He had not run away or gone on a killing spree, even though both were tempting at times. He being such a good boy...but how long would it last?

Now, more than ever, he didn’t think he could leave…not with this child here. There was something about her that drove him mad trying to figure out what it was about her that fascinated him so much. Perhaps it was her innocence or her psychic powers, or perhaps something else entirely. The various abilities she could demonstrate were nothing less than extraordinary. She confirmed on multiple occasions that she truly communicated with his Mother’s spirit by telling him things that no one else could have known.

Among all the reasons that she fascinated him, her most endearing quality was that she simply accepted him for who he was. She could see the Darkness in him, could see that he had hurt others, yet still she was not afraid of him. In fact, she was the first of any he’d met who didn’t display any fear of him. She just liked him for who he was, and never questioned him about it, never analyzed him, never tried to change him...there was something powerful in that.

“You could kill her, you know,” the Voice spoke to him. “With that kind of power…she may even be able to control you! It would be quick and easy. You could do it in her sleep...she wouldn’t feel anything. It’d be like she just never woke...”

“Silence!” Zenapharr hissed to himself inwardly. “No harm will come to her. Anyone else...just not her. I actually have standards, I’m not like you.”

“Oh, don’t act like you haven’t considered it! Not like me? Haha, don’t mak777e me laugh! You and I are the same…you just don’t know it yet. I’m the You that you truly want to be! Nothing would hold you back ever again!”

“No.”

“Suit yourself...you know that you want to kill regardless. You’re on the precipice, Zenapharr. All I need to do is give you just a small...little...nudge...”

“Go away!” He shouted in his mind, sweat breaking through his pores. After a moment, his mind was silent again. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked down upon the sweet child’s face, and ran his fingers delicately through her hair. She looked so content…and he envied her. Could sleep ever be that easy for him? Maybe one day...

Feeling he needed rest himself, he gently laid her down on the cot in her cell. Easing her slowly from his arms to not disturb her, he stood but waited, transfixed and intrigued by her. Somehow...he felt like a father to her. She hadn’t talked much about how she got to the facility, but as far as he knew, he may be the only one who truly cared for her. He felt.....responsible for her. The others....the scientists and testers only saw her as a number, as a test subject. He scowled at the thought, remembering how he’d felt the same way.

Before he left her cell, he did something he didn’t expect. He leaned over Alice, pursed his lips together, and gave her a small peck on the forehead. This act of affection felt odd although he did so automatically. Feeling flush, he quickly made his way back to his cell.

Guards nodded at him in acknowledgement as he passed. He knew he was being watched, and directly stated it to any who followed him. For most, this would end the whole charade so they could openly follow him. It was annoying to him that they thought they were being covert when they weren’t. One officer, apparently a cocky younger one, attempted to exert his dominance by telling him he should be in his cell when he went outside to retrieve a flower for Alice.

After laughing his request off, he carried on and when the officer attempted to block him, he lifted him in the air by his collar and pinned him against the wall with a snarl. As he was not made previously aware, the crimson color filled Zenapharr’s eyes when he stared the young officer down in anger. The machismo quickly faded from the officer as Zenapharr stated that, “if you even think about trying that again, I’ll be picking out flowers for your grave. Understood, whelp?” The officer was immediately more agreeable.

Flustered by his act of kissing her forehead still, Zenapharr sat in his cell meditating on and pondering the events. For some time, he had felt that he longer had a heart. Now that he was sure that this was not true, he was confident that this little one now had it under lock and key. Yet, how...and why? These thoughts followed him until his world faded to a dream.

Dr. Pennington’s clammy hands shook as he stared catatonically at the pills held within them. They beckoned him to act.

“Just pop them in and swallow. Don’t think.”

Yet it seemed the more he tried to do it, the more he’d think about it, and the less he’d try, and start back all over again.

“Just one more thing to fail at,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head back and forth. His hair was dirty and unkempt, not being attended to in over a week. His eyes were bloodshot and forlorn, the life stolen away. It seemed impossible to do what he wanted to do, but he knew that it was the only possible way to stop the pain. There was nothing left for him but agony, his only hope dashed against the rocks of his psyche.

“Nothing at all,” he whispered to himself. To motivate himself, he thought back to the events two weeks earlier which led to his current state. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

In his secret lab, Dr. Pennington gleefully stood by the cryogenic chamber as it opened. The cold blue vapors that arose seemed to invigorate him, intoxicating his being with a new lease on life. He would finally see his baby boy again.

“Nathan? Can you hear me?” The doctor asked, keeping a five-foot distance from the chamber. Next, he watched in grand fashion as the smoke cleared and his son’s arm appeared. His son grabbed the side of the Lazarus Chamber and hoisted himselfinto a sitting position. Dr. Pennington brightly clapped his hands and laughed jovially.

“Nathan, my boy! Can you hear me?” The stoic look on his son’s face disheartened him, but even so was not fully dissuaded. Looking upon him, Dr. Pennington saw his boy’s face as a thing of beauty, the same boy at twelve he loved dearly. In reality, his son was a mass of stitches and nothing less than monstrous to look at. The skin was too loose in some areas while too tight in others, the result of his father’s amateur stitching prowess. This haphazard sewing resulted in flaps of skin and made some areas bloated, frightening even to those who’ve witnessed many a horror.

“Nathan! It’s me, Dad! Can you come to me, boy?” Nathan looked straight ahead for a moment, then turned his head in a slow and slightly jerky movement. His eyes met Dr. Pennington’s, yet there was no recognition in them. “Yes, that’s it! I’ve brought you back! You must be confused, but that’s okay! It’ll just take some time!”

In a stupor, his son climbed out of the chamber, falling in the process. As much as he wanted to help, his father stood back to allow Nathan to work the atrophied muscles out. After being frozen for so long, it was imperative to let Nathan move on his own. Once he was back on his feet, Nathan stumbled towards his father and let out a low moan.

“Uhhhhhh-rrrrrr.”

" Your vocal cords need some warming up....but don’t worry, my boy! That’s it!”

“Unnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnhhhhh,” Nathan responded, and stiffly raised his arms as he closed the small distance.

“It’s going to take some time to get used to the unfreezing process, but you’ll be right as rain in no time! Just like riding a bike!” His son let out another guttural moan and reached out to grab him.

“Ohhhh, I can’t hold back any longer, I’ve missed you so!” He stepped into his son to greet him. Right at the moment of this embrace, Nathan reared his head back and sunk his teeth into the doctor’s shoulder.

“Agghhhh!” He screamed, and pushed his son away, easily sending the boy sprawling.

“That is bad, Nathan! Bad, bad, bad!” Gritting his teeth, he grabbed a nearby cloth and wrapped it around his shoulder, soaking up the blood that seeped through his white coat. “We’re going to have to retrain you! Biting is a no-no!”

Nathan gathered himself again and began lurching toward him, when there was a sudden flash and the boy’s head opened up. Brain matter, tissue, and gore showered in every direction.

“Nooooooooooo!” Dr. Pennington rushed over and caught his son’s lifeless body right before it hit the ground. The distraught doctor cradled his boy to his chest and kept repeating like a mantra, “No , no no no no no no nonononono.”

Close by, the smoke wisped upwards from a barrel held by the hand of The Director, his gun stance still trained on the once undead boy. After a moment, Krane holstered his gun once he saw that Nathan was now a lifeless form held by a grieving father.

“Albert, I’m so sorry.” The Director stated somberly, spoken so articulately and well-rehearsed. Dr. Pennington continued weeping as if the Director’s words never reached his ears. “If there was any other way it had to be done...I would have done so. I’ll just leave you be.”

“My boy....my only.....” The doctor wept bitterly over his son, this second time more painful than the last. In a strained silence, the Director walked away.

“Nothing left to lose,” he said to himself. “Yeah...what’s the harm? I’ve got nothing left to lose. You can do this, Albert. Just throw the pills into your mouth, and wash it down with this gin. No big deal, right?” He looked at his hand, inspecting the little blue pills. The little capsules seemed to taunt him, daring him to act.

He looked over at a picture of his former wife, Sandra. She was an additional reason for starting the Lazarus Chamber. Their marriage was rocky at best, but losing Nathan really put the nail in the coffin. Yet, in the end it was his own sins that sealed his fate, ironic considering the series of events connected to his son’s death and re-birth. Perhaps Zenapharr was right...

“Hah, nail in the coffin,” he snickered darkly.

Amidst his sadness and self-contrition, he still placed much of the blame on the Director. It was Krane who had offered to fund his experiment, bringing the Lazarus Chamber to fruition. Little did he know that this would become his own detriment, just a way to get him under the Director’s thumb. Of all the shady things Krane was up to, he didn’t dare disagree for fear of his laboratory being taken away.

“Director Krane, you pious bastard,” he mumbled to himself. “I’ll show you...you won’t get my cooperation anymore...cuz I’ll be dead, ya hear? Dead as a doornail....the nail in the coffin...hah!” It was at this random moment, that he was able to shut off his mind long enough to shovel the pills into his mouth and gulp them down. In a few minutes, the effects came and his muscles began to relax and he slithered down from his office chair to the floor.

Just as he began to fall into his deep sleep, he uttered.

“Nathan…see you soon...”

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