Murder Genes (7 page)

--faded...

Chapter 6

Why?
 
Why do scientists continue to simplify, dogmatically believing that DNA is everything?
 
Biologists have always known that the many factors of behavior cannot be narrowed down to a single cause, yet, over the years the deterministic model has become the prevailing belief.

Why?

 
-Seymore A. Grant,
 
"Responsible Genetics."
 
Oct, 2014.
 
http://www.responsiblegenetics.com/Past.aspx?projectId=224

She was pretty like some part-nymph part-goddess mix.
 
Blue eyes and blond hair, wearing a simple white t-shirt.
 
She poured a dark powder straight into the hole in Jay's thigh.
 
Then she struck a match and dipped it into the wound.

Fiery agony raced up and down his leg when the powder lit.
 
He screamed and jerked to sit but her gloved hand snatched a scalpel from a nearby bin and her fist punched him in the neck, pressing him back to the metal table with the blade edging his throat.
 
When he felt the chill on his bare back he noticed he was completely naked.
 
She didn't seem to care.
 
And at the moment, neither did he.
 
"I wish you hadn't woke just then."
 
The blade of the scalpel pressed into the side of his neck.
 
"Don't move."

She calmly used her free hand to take up a hooked needle and thread.
 
She began sewing at his flesh.
 
Jay grit his teeth, and regretted it as another shock of discomfort went though his face.
 
Metallic saliva filled his mouth around the bar and again, he felt the sharpness of thought through his pain.
 
"I wone moove," he managed.
 
"Euse botf hands."
 
The bells clanged together as he spoke.

"I'm fine," she said, continuing.
 
She was so efficient he hadn't time to recover between stitches.
 
"Flip."
 
She pulled the scalpel away and stood back with her arms crossed.

Jay obediently turned.
 
The bar in his mouth spun in his sockets and the bells swung at his neck, each dull clang echoing another one.
 
He lightly clenched his teeth, testing and feeling the effect of the discomfort to his body.
 
His vision sharpened, thoughts came faster.
 
And he felt, honestly, a little high like he was running on a dose of adrenaline.
 
Now that he noticed, he felt a little odd, a little woozy.
 
Propped on his elbows, bare butt to the lady and...clenching, his teeth, he was able to take his mind off himself and looked around the room.

It was well lit, like modern day hospitals with tile floors and flat white walls, but without the perfect organization and cleanliness.
 
A part of the side wall looked like a bomb had gone off near it.
 
Bins with tools soaking in them sat on carts and loose piles of bandages and cloths scattered the nearby tables.
 
He heard her approach him.
 
A firm hand gripped his ankle and the other began sewing at his wound.
 
Jay tried to make conversation above the sting.
 
"Wha Eour naaa?"
 
It was unintelligible, even to his own ears.
 
He worked his tongue around, struggling to speak.
 
Frustrated, he pulled at the ends of the bar, knowing it was futile before he even tried.

"It's locked, you need a key to take it off.
 
And my name's Karah."

He nodded.
 
"Jay," he said.
 
It came out more like "Day", but he didn't bother to repeat himself.
 
"Wherr you frm?"

"Utah."

"Muy twoe!"

She didn't seem as delighted.
 
"Gamer asked me to give you the rules since you're new," she said.
 
"Oh, and you're a little dosed up on stuff."

"Graet," Jay said.
 
"Juss don't mind my cllenching while you talk."
 
He'd always used jokes for stress.
 
They helped him deal with things.
 
Keep moving.
 
Keep living.
 
Or maybe the 'stuff' was affecting his mind more than he realized.

Karah chuckled.
 
Best part of the day.

Being shot through the face and having a bar shoved through the hole came in close second, though.
 
Unless that was yesterday and this was an entirely new day.

"Murderer City, Morir, is controlled by 'Gamers,'" she said.
 
"They are the ones who command the teams.
 
Every person has a role they must follow and you don't get to choose what it is.
 
You follow Gamer’s orders even if he tells you to walk into a burning building and stand there until you torch.
 
Betraying him or disobeying him is not an option."

"Uhwhy noth?"

Her hand paused in its sewing, there was a snip.
 
"Morir
is
a Game, a weird game of survival, with rules.
 
Those who don't follow the rules are eliminated by the Game players.
 
You'll have no one who won't see you as an enemy if you break the rules."
 
She released his ankle and wiped at his legs with a wet rag.
 
"On that note, if you run into an enemy, you follow orders.
 
If you have no orders, you fight to kill or take the enemy hostage.
 
No questions asked."
 
She wrapped a bandage around his leg and motioned him to sit, hoisting him up.

"No-ne."
 
He said.

"None."
 
She nodded at the bells at his neck.
 
"You are a Bondsman.
 
You will be given targets equal in number to the bells you wear.
 
You cannot take the bells off, dismantle them, or hinder their ringing.
 
Not until Gamer does it for you.
 
When all your bells are removed, if you survive, you will be given a different role of Gamer's choosing.
 
One in which you may wear clothes, wield certain weapons, and maybe even rise high within Gamer's army."

"Soo... Kill peofple, stoy nakked."
 
He lifted the bar, looking at the bells.
 
Seven of them.
 
He was to kill seven people for...what exactly?
 
Not freedom, that was clear.
 
"Andd what'ss your storey?"
 
He was getting the hang of speaking with a torn tongue and a bar in his mouth.

Karah handed him a cup filled with clear liquid.
 
"Swish this," she ordered.

He tilted his head back and poured some of the liquid into his open mouth.
 
It bubbled and burned, some worked through his cheeks and he could feel foaming on his outside skin.
 
It was almost relieving to feel something different than pain alone.
 
He still felt woozy, though.

"I patch people up," she said.
 
"Then send them on their merry way to kill other people."

He spit the liquid out.
 
"That's obviouss," he answered.
 
"Wha got you h-ere."

"Morir?"

He nodded.
 
And jingled.

"Killed my rapist...self-defense," she added.
 
"So they tested me."

"I'm sure he deserved it."
 
He tried to smile at her, but failed with how high her eyebrow went.

"You're lucky," she said.
 
"Gamer didn't blow off your tongue like he usually does."

"Lukkey?" he snorted, working the...
bit
around in his mouth.
 
"Lucky tdo geth my teeth blouwn from my moufth?"
 
He was talking too fast.
 
Probably couldn't even cuss properly.
 
"Fuck."
 
Maybe he could.

New favorite word.

"Yeah, lucky, you still look human."
 
She held up a hand mirror for him.

"Fuck!" he swore again when he looked.
 
Like some mountain lion had dragged his face in its jaws for a mile hike just to spit him out for an elephant sit on.
 
Not mentioning the bar through his cheeks that made him look like a native with a piercing and cowbell fetish.
 
Even Kyle wouldn't have been able to recognize him.
 
"Shoulda see the othher guy," Jay mumbled to himself.
 
Jingling, every time he moved his jaw.
 
Annoying.

"Open your mouth."
 
She turned to grab a small flashlight.
 
On the back of her shirt, he saw red tape taped on in the shape of a cross.
 
Fancy.
 
Karah leaned in real close and peered into his mouth with the flashlight held high.
 
She tucked a wooden block into the side of his mouth right by where the bar was and grabbed a tiny rectangular razor.
 
She gave him a look and wiggled the razor between her fingers.
 
"I trust you so I won't put you out.
 
Just don't bite or I'll make sure you swallow this along with my fingers."

He nodded a jingle.
 
The block between his teeth prevented him from biting anyway.

She took the razor into his mouth and maneuvering around the bar, cut into the sockets.
 
There was scraping and digging and a sound like crunching gravel and of course, pain.
 
She kept the flashlight raised, putting it down only to grab a bin and tell him to spit.
 
Which he did.
 
Flesh and parts of teeth came out like chunky blood.
 
At least she was efficient.

"Swish," she said, handing him the cup.
 
She turned to leave.

"Where ar' you goinge?"
 
He set the cup down.

"You're done.
 
I'm going to report to Gamer."

"Wayt," Jay pointed to a brick on the floor.
 
"Mind grabbin' that for me?"

She hesitated.

"Don't worey, I won't attakk you."

"Why do you want it?"

"You'l see.
 
You said you trus' me, right?"
 
Jingle jingle jingle.
 
Really, annoying as hell.

She nodded and put the brick near his feet where he would have to reach for it.
 
She retreated and watched him warily.

"Thanks."
 
Jay bent forward, putting his chin flat on the table--bells in front, and grabbed the brick.
 
Then he lifted it and brought it straight down on the first bell.

"What are you doing!"
 
She jumped at him, grabbing his arm before he could smash the second.
 
"Didn't you hear the rules?"

"Screwe the rules.
 
Screw Gamer too."

She glared at him and wrestled the brick away, then threw it to the side.
 
"Damn you.
 
The least you could've done was
told
me you were suicidal before I patched you up.
 
Shouldn't have given you any of those pain killers.
 
Wasting time and supplies," she muttered.

"Arent you always?" he asked, sitting up.
 
"We're all dyeing anyway."
 
And this'll help me survive.
 
I can't be ringing everywhere I go
.
 
"Give me back the brik."

  
"On your own time when I'm not around.
 
Do it in front of Gamer so he doesn't kill me for not explaining the rules to his newest Bondsman."

Jay slid off the table and hobbled toward the bricks on the floor.
 
"I towld him I wouldn't play his Gaime."

She quick stepped into his way.
 
"Fuck you, Jay.
 
I told you he holds me responsible for you."
 
There was a real fear in her eyes.

"You're prety like my wife was.
 
I fall fore prety.
 
Jus' not this time.
 
Thank-s for fixing me, but I'm not escapping with these friggin' noisemakkers ding-dongging the wurld my every step."
 
Jingle jingle.

"Getting your face blown off wasn't enough warning?
 
You're not escaping, here or Morir."
 
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her scalpel.
 
"We're a team now and if you can't accept that, I've got to follow the rules."

"I have a son to think abowt."

"I have
me
to think about."
 
Karah pulled the scalpel up by her ear into a fighting stance, ready to stab.
 
"Hey!" she yelled suddenly.
 
"Get your fat butts in here!"
 
Two burly men with red bands on their arms burst into the room and flanked him.
 
They gave no warning, jumping on Jay and wrestling his arms behind his back.
 
"He needs to have a talk with Gamer," Karah said to them, still poised, scalpel high.