by Tom B. First
"Tom B. First," the old man muttered, his eyes fidgeting about the room as he took in the cot and the night stand provided. "Tom B. First." The old man had spied a cockroach crawling across his nightstand. He muttered in very hushed tones now for fear he would scare the cockroach away. The insect had found some sticky residue spilled from the oatmeal bowl earlier that day and was obviously taken with his find. The old man watched the bug for a full ten minutes atop the glob of oatmeal, all the while inching his way across the room.
"Tom B. First!" the old man screamed as loud as he could as his right hand grabbed for the cockroach atop the miniature mound of spilled oatmeal. The old man had been successful as the bug was in his clenched fist, but not so tight as to squish the insect. "Tom B. First!" the old man squealed as he swooped his hand to his mouth and ate the cockroach. "Tom B. First," he snickered.
Then the old man jumped to hear the clanging of a billy club pounding on the locked door to his room. "Quiet down in there, freak!" echoed loudly from outside the door.
"Tom B. First!" the old man screeched in shock, falling backward first onto his bed and then sliding off the sheets onto the floor. The old man laid there for a long time trembling. He actually took the sheet that had slid down beside him and pulled it over his head. "Tom B. First," he repeated softly under the sheet over and over.
Finally, the old man pulled the sheet off of his head and attempted to stand up. He could not. The old man was stuck. He had sat there sitting in a churled position with his knees close to his chest. This was not the problem, though. As the old man looked down his right side, he could not see where he should be sitting. His posterior had sunk through the floor and was now wedged into the floorboards. This particular part of his body was partially phased/partially solidified into the floor.
The old man's face wrinkled up as if to concentrate. "Tom B. First," he muttered defiantly. His heart was racing at a frantic pace. It was obvious this situation was causing the old man discomfort. He braced his outstretched hands on both sides of his torso and up behind himself on the bed. "Tom B. First," he said, concentrating solely on pulling his posterior up and out of the floor. It was several more minutes before he was successful in his endeavor.
Upon finishing his task, the old man laid flat on his bed. It was thirty-six seconds exactly that the old man heard the keys in the door. "Tom B. First?" he said excitedly.
"We've caught your vanishing act on camera, old man," Vic grunted.
"Tom B. First," the old man mumbled.
"Now that we know what you can do..." Vic's companion smirked. "...we know what to do with you!" The two men took the old man out of the room.
"You're just going to love what comes next!" Vic giggled as they escorted the old man down the hall.
"Tom B. First," the old man muttered quite indifferently.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Dr. Walter Curie said, entering Knell's office.
"What can you tell me about thisss Tom B. Firssst, Walt?" Dr. Zachary Knell demanded in his raspy, serpentine voice. "I'm hearing he can dematerializzze."
"He can do much more than that."
Knell cocked his snakelike head. "Sssuch asss?"
"As far as we have been able to surmise..." Curie began, pausing to clear his throat.
It was obvious to Knell that Curie was stalling to find the right words. "Jussst ssspit it out!" Knell demanded.
"The old man rose from the dead three nights ago... we think," Curie said meekly.
"You think this old geezzzer rossse from the dead?!" Knell said in a semi-state of disbelief and mild amusement.
"We have film."
"Then roll the damn film, Curie!" Knell said defiantly. "Rossse from the dead," he snorted as he shook his head side to side.
"Test subject 43A died on the operating table three days ago -- a young man brought here from Chicago to TriVext during the initial outbreaks of the metagene," Curie explained as he turned off the lights.
"What freakisssh power had he disssplayed?"
"He had been seen floating through the air by his neighbors," Curie said as he walked over to the projector.
"There goesss the neighborhood if sssome punk kid beginsss defying the lawsss of gravity," Knell said, smirking. "Wait a minute!" Knell said indignantly. "I thought you sssaid sssome old man had risssen from the dead?"
"Not exactly," Curie retorted sheepishly. "Watch the film."
The projector whirled, and the body of a young man is shown being given a cursory exam. "Test subject 43A had died during experiments just minutes prior to this exam," Curie explained. "Next you'll see the body being placed in the first hibernation tomb, standard procedure as dictated by our corporation."
"How many bodiesss are down there?" Knell asked.
"This is the first one."
"Firssst come, firssst ssserve," Knell reflected. "Henccce the reassson he wasss put in the first hibernation tomb. I'm ssshocked there haven't been more deathsss."
"Cut to a film taken from the hibernation tomb about twenty minutes after the young man was placed inside."
Knell watched as the door to the first hibernation tomb was opened slowly. "Guesss the kid wasssn't dead after all."
"Watch," Curie scolded somewhat. Knell glared at Curie. Rethinking his tone, Curie added, "Please watch."
Out of the mist stepped an old man, obviously disoriented and stumbling around for a minute and a half before security came to take him into custody. The old man was shown being led away as men in white lab coats arrived to secure the first hibernation tomb. As the first hibernation tomb was fully opened and in full view of the camera, a body could be seen still inside it.
"Ah! Tessst sssubject 43A isss ssstill inside... and ssstill dead, I asssume?" Knell reasoned aloud. The mist cleared to reveal a twin of the old man laying in the first hibernation tomb where test subject 43A should have been. "Amazzzing!" Knell's curiosity had been tweaked. "Thisss old man named himself Tom B. First, I asssume?"
"Actually, that's the only thing he's said since coming out of that hibernation tomb. The guards have started calling him by that name."
"It'sss not a name, Walt!" Knell snapped.
"Wh-what...?" Curie said nervously.
"Tom B. First," Knell sneered. "Placcce the 'B' at the end of 'Tom,' Walt. What do you get?"
"T-O-M-B... tomb."
"Tomb firssst!" Knell snarled. "The old man is sssaying 'tomb firssst.' His addled mind isss asssking to be returned to the first hibernation tomb, Walt," Knell said. "I take it you've had him pretty well doped up sssince his resssurrection?"
"Standard procedure."
Knell sighed. "He wantsss to reunite with hisss other body."
"But what is this all about?" Curie asked.
"Sssome type of metagene defenssse sssyssstem would be my guesss. Reunite the two old men, and I bet you get one healthy young man." Knell asked, "What wasss tessst sssubject 43A'sss real name?"
"Oh!" the red-faced Curie shut off the projector and flipped on the lights. "I thought I had told you his name." He opened test subject 43A's file. "Here it is." He scanned the top of the sheet and read off his clipboard, "It's L. Lorenzo. Mr. Lance Lorenzo."
Curie glanced up at Knell, who looked at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and continued reading, glancing at the text and attempting to summarize the notes. "Uh, says here... During the early days of the initial metagene explosion, Lance Lorenzo was a young man, twenty years old, when the Chicago Police Department turned him over to the MCCA, who initially kept him in the Enhanced Procurement Sanction facility in Chicago until they found he was too unstable to control with the equipment the facility had at the time. They transferred him here, where after his first apparent death, he was placed in a hibernation tomb. He's apparently now been scheduled for another transfer, this time back to the EPS." Curie looked up and added, "Dr. Walker's personal request."
Knell snorted derisively.
"Okay, let's see..." continued Curie, skimming the file. "Lorenzo had been walking his girlfriend's Scotch terrier, Fluffy, when he inexplicably began floating off the ground. Terrified neighbors called the police, and a stunned Lorenzo dropped like a rock from the air when several police had drawn guns on him. Unaware of what was happening to him, Lorenzo pounded on a police vehicle, completely smashing in the front of the hood and radiator. A rookie policeman fired, apparently out of fear, but the bullets bounced off Lorenzo's superdense skin.
"Unfortunately, a stray bullet had struck one Donna Dover, apparently Lorenzo's girlfriend. As he ran to her fallen body, Chicago police managed to gas him and take him away. The file doesn't say if Miss Dryden survived." Curie looked up and closed the file folder. "That's all there is, sir, except of course the fact that Lorenzo probably has no idea how many years have passed since he was taken into custody."
"Your lack of imagination WOULD lead you to sssay that, wouldn't it, Curie?" said Knell, looking pensive. "In fact, we can draw sssome conclusssionsss basssed on what we know from thisss account and our own exxxperiencccesss with the tessst sssubject today. It isss obviousss, for exxxample, that Lorenzzzo'sss metagene activated densssity control of hisss own body. It isss alssso apparent he hasss no control over thisss ssstrange ability... yet."
Knell paused and then added, "And asss for Walker and hisss EPSss? The transssfer program isss over. Let him procure hisss own tessst sssubjectsss."