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Mortal - Chapter 29

What is life without death?

By LivPublished 2 years ago 12 min read
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Mortal - Chapter 29
Photo by Stormseeker on Unsplash

Premise: In this young-adult dystopian novel, people can no longer die. But they still feel pain, and suffer--and it's maddening. Because of the chaos that ensued, the US Government created a program to figure out how to kill people. When Garrett, a teenager, falls into a coma for weeks as a result of an experiment, the Program sets its malicious sights on him.

This is the twenty-ninth chapter of the novel, Mortal. Click here for the beginning of the story. Or, click here to view all chapters.

We checked out of the motel early in the afternoon. Lucy suggested we get at least seven hours of sleep before our departure to VitCorp, although with so much on ours minds, I doubt either of us reached that desired amount of rest.

I sit next to Lucy, as she drives. Watching her, she seems much better than the day before. Her eyes are bright with confidence, and she’s regained that warm color of her face. Her sandy-blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and her lips are pursed as she squints across the sparse highway.

“So are we just gonna walk on in?” I ask, as I turn to stare out my window.

“We may have to improvise,” I can hear her smirk, “But that’s the plan.”

I nod, even though I know she probably didn’t see it. My teeth graze over my lower lip as my hands clench and then release. My gut is a bundle of nerves. Our plan—walking blindingly into VitCorp unarmed and unaware. I’m too on edge to decide whether Lucy’s ease is fabricated by sarcastic resignation or genuine. I’m not sure which I’d prefer.

“I’ve been thinking,” Lucy says after a while of watching the bland scenery fly by, “About our immortality.”

“Oh?” I look at her, twisting my fingers in my shirt.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding slightly. “We’re one of the first generations to be born with the Problem. Yet we’re still prone to be insane.”

I shrug, not exactly sure what she’s getting at, if anything at all. “Hysteria is contagious.”

“Right. But why did we think our immortality was bad in the first place? I’m just wondering if we’ll ever be able to adapt to this, or if it’s ingrained in our nature to need to die.”

“Didn’t know you had a philosophical side,” I tease, hiding the uncertainty throbbing in my skull.

“Yeah, well. I have boring company,” she raises her eyebrows, “But what do you think?” she presses.

“I don’t know,” I say, glancing towards my feet. “I think that since there will always be people who knew how it was before, we’ll never grow out of it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Lucy says after a moment. “I guess it also doesn’t help that the first recorded occurrence of it was with a serial killer on death row.” I remember Abel telling me about this several months back. The government had injected him with the killing dose and yet nothing happened. They tried again and again, with different lethal drugs but the result was still the same. By then, there was pandemic of immortality on the world’s hands.

“That would definitely make some people dubious,” I put it mildly.

“By him being the first,” she taps her fingers on the steering wheel, biting her lip, “It’s sort of like a bad omen, you know? Like God decided to give this immortality as a curse rather than a gift. But maybe that’s not what He intended at all. Maybe it just sort of…happened.”

She sighs, wistful, “If people weren’t being tortured as we speak, I would probably think the best thing to do was wait it out.”

I nod, thinking about what life could have been like if we never considered this a curse. Time would no longer matter, well at least not as much. There might even be less violence instead of more, and maybe people would value their choices more, knowing that they would live forever, instead of going crazy and trying to kill themselves and their family.

But I decide, even though I have no desire to die any time soon, the thought of living forever makes me sick.

“Sorry,” Lucy mumbles, puffing a loose strand of hair away from her face, “I guess it’s kind of the wrong time to talk about this.”

“No, no,” I say distantly, “It’s fine. Really. I just…I don’t know.”

“You’re worried,” Lucy decides, her lips pressing into a firm line, “What do you think we’re going to find?”

“Nothing,” I reply, twisting my neck away from her to look out my window. If what I suspect happens, we’ll be back at square one again, and there’s only so many times we can start at the beginning again before finally getting caught.

“Mmm.”

I look back at her and she’s smiling, like she knows something I don’t.

“What?” I ask, “And you’re not worried?”

“No,” she draws out the word, quirking her eyebrows, “Of course I am. But I’m more worried about finding something so…complex, so concrete that we’re forced to accept it and just give up.”

I pull back to get a better look at her, wondering what could possibly bring us to just walk away. I can’t imagine myself doing that. Ever. Not when Abel and Therese’s and everyone else’s lives in Eden are counting on me to end it. And maybe…maybe everyone else too. Maybe if we can find the cure to immortality, my parents, they could be… I quickly shake my head, pushing those uncomfortable thoughts away for the time being. “Like?” I ask, frowning.

She sighs, grimacing as well. Her back straightens uneasily, “I don’t know,” she explains exasperatedly, “But then we will have nothing.”

“A never ending square one…” I muse bitterly, “That sounds awesome.”

She laughs, and she pushes me away with the swat of her hand.

We arrive in Marysville around two in the afternoon. It’s a small town, probably no more than 5,000 people live here. But I like it. It’s more peaceful than either Denver or Chicago, and both of those carry unpleasant memories with them.

Lucy turns into a long street (at least compared to the rest of them in this town) lined with small shops and cafes. Few people walk the sidewalks, some with young children or jumpy dogs. Some of the buildings are painted exotically—bright pinks, pastel blues—but near the end of the street I can see the colors drastically change to hues of black and grey. Before I can assume the difference comes from an owner’s particular preference, we meet the border of brights to darks, and a breath of horror escapes my lips. These buildings are not painted, but burned; charred and speckled with ash.

“What—“

“A hysteria movement hit Marysville a couple years back,” Lucy explains indifferently, not even glancing in the scarred buildings’ direction.

An icy chill slithers down my spine, and I’m forced to look away. “Even with VitCorp being right here?” I ask weakly.

She laughs without mirth, “I think that was actually the reason why it happened here. Yet another constant reminder for what we’ve lost. And a few months later, VitCorp was replaced by Project Eden.”

I try to swallow the sour taste in my mouth, “Why hasn’t anyone rebuilt?” I can’t understand how the people of the town could stand living with half a block of buildings desolated for years.

“I think a preservation mandate was placed on the block,” Lucy offers with a helpless shrug. She’s clearly just as bothered as I am. “To remind people what Project Eden is fighting for.”

“It’s a little over the top,” I decide, watching a family walk into the street to avoid the rubble littered on the sidewalk.

Lucy scoffs, “Yeah. Tell me about it.”

Lucy pulls into a parking lot near the town’s courthouse which reminds me of a castle and a church combined. It’s made of classic red brick lined with several windows, and a tall spire shoots up from the end of the building.

“Where is it?” I ask as we hop onto the sidewalk bordering the courthouse.

Lucy slides on her sunglasses, frowning from the glare of the sun, “Not far. But I looked up its preservation mandate this morning, and we need to get a key card from the courthouse.”

“Can’t we just break in?”

Lucy grins at my casual tone and she’s right; I do make it sound like the most obvious suggestion in the world. Our lives are complete messes.

“Not in this case,” Lucy says, “The government took more extensive precautions with VitCorp. They sealed the entrances with concrete to avoid any unwanted attention.”

“Like us,” I nod as we round the corner to the front of the building.

“Exactly,” Lucy agrees, “The only way to get into this one is through a tunnel that leads to its basement from the courthouse.”

We climb the stairs to the entrance slowly, each step like a tick of a clock whose time is about to wind out. “And you think you’re just gonna bat those pretty eyes of yours, and they’ll let us on in?”

Lucy stops in front of the doorway and turns to face me. Her cheeks are pink, but I’m not sure if they’re burned by the sun or my words. She lifts her camera hanging around her neck by the strap, “There’s got to be at least one perk for working for that ass hole,” she explains, and I wish I could see her eyes from behind the dark lenses, “We’ll pretend to be the press. Just follow my lead, okay?”

“Okay.” We walk through the door without another word.

Marysville’s Courthouse must be centuries old. The concrete floor is painted over with a stained white. The pale walls are paneled with cracked wood and chandeliers embellished with crystals shaped like tear drops. There are portraits of famous judges and notable Marysville inhabitants from the past.

“This place smells like old people,” I mutter, beginning to feel the strain of breathing in the musky air.

Lucy nudges me in the side, “Everything smells like old people, Garrett. No one can die.

Her hushed response is such a ridiculous yet somehow believable explanation that it takes all of my will power to not burst out laughing in this eerily quiet foyer.

Lucy clears her throat before heading down the narrow hallway with me in pursuit. We reach the front desk to be greeted by a stout woman with greying red hair curled into a bun.

“Hello. Welcome to Marysville Courthouse. How can I assist you?” she asks, barely glancing up from the book she’s reading.

Lucy rests her elbows on the wooden countertop, “Hi, Lucy Wright with The Gilded Age,” she pulls out an ID from the front pocket of her jeans, and slides it across the counter towards the woman. “We’re working on a companion story to the earlier published article on Project Eden, and well, we were wondering if we could have a look- see around VitCorp? We would be so very grateful.” Lucy flashes a large smile, but the woman doesn’t seem to buy it.

The secretary inclines her head towards me, “Who’s this?”

I swallow thickly, thinking of a cool name to give myself without causing suspicion.

But Lucy speaks for me, “Oh, that’s just Bertie.” My face flares hot, ridiculed, and I know she’s just trying to mess with me. But I can’t think of anything vengeful I can do without blowing our cover. The best I can do is end up muttering under my breath.

“Don’t worry about him,” Lucy explains with a subtle grin, “He helps me with carrying equipment and setting up shots.” Lucy motions to her camera.

The red-headed woman quirks her brow.

“And moral support,” Lucy adds, winking.

“Hi,” I say, flatly, “Bertie here.”

“So what do you say?” Lucy presses the woman, leaning in on her elbows.

The woman frowns, as if weighing down her options, “I’m…I’m not sure I have the authorization, Miss Wright. I’m terribly sorry.”

But Lucy isn’t backing down, “Look, um…what’s your name?”

“Sara,” the woman helps.

“Yes. Sara, I can tell that with this authorization thing, you really couldn’t care less. I mean it’s just the building of a failed research project, right? But for me, and my boss, Mr. Gild, it is very important.”

To my own surprise, the woman’s resolve seems to be faltering. Her eyes wander to her desk for a moment, and she closes the book. “Miss…” she hesitates.

“Marysville,” Lucy sighs wistfully, and she turns to me, “It’s a nice place, isn’t it, Bertie. It’s a shame…that since it’s so small, the only thing it will be remembered for is that awful hysteria movement back a few years. Bad press,” she sighs again, but this time with feigned sadness, “That almost always leads to a bad economy, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does, ma’am,” I reply somberly.

“Now I wish I could do something to help this poor town! Give it some good press, but Sara doesn’t have the authorization to save this town, Bertie.” Lucy gives Sara a knowing look, and I know she’s won.

We hop down the brick steps to the basement of the courthouse, Lucy proudly carrying a key card in her hand.

“I have no idea how you managed that,” I exclaim with disbelief.

“Don’t underestimate me, Bertie,” Lucy shoots back when we reach the end of the steps. Sara had told us to follow the blue signs leading us through the library and towards the underground entrance to VitCorp.

“Yeah. Don’t ever call me that again,” I mutter. The basement of the courthouse is walled with concrete bricks painted an ugly yellowish-white color while musty carpet covers the floor. Wooden bookshelves that nearly touch the low ceilings line the room. As we walk through one of the rows of shelves, I notice that most of the books deal with law or the history of Marysville.

“That doesn’t sound much like moral support, “ Lucy observes mockingly.

“Well, why don’t you shove my moral support up your—“ My words die in my throat when she swivels to face me and kisses me on the cheek.

“Let’s save the niceties for after we find what we’re looking for, alright?”

Before I can gather my thoughts, we reach the entrance to the tunnel. Lucy slides the key card along its slot to the left, and the metal door begins to rise with a very obnoxious groan.

“Here we go,” Lucy puffs out, and she grabs a hold of my hand.

Here we go, I repeat to myself, and we take our first steps into the tunnel.

Thanks for reading everyone! See you next week with more chapters! xoxo, Liv

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About the Creator

Liv

Massive Nerd. Pursuing my MFA in Screenwriting!

IG and Twitter: livjoanarc

https://www.twitch.tv/livjoanarc

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