It’s a “Clam”-ity!

It’s a “Clam”-ity!

It's a Clam-ity

It’s a “Clam”-ity!

The last three days had been hell. No. Worse than hell probably. I’ve had what I can only describe, explain, as the worst run of luck in my entire life.

Waiting for the doctor come to see me in the hospital’s emergency room bed finally gave me time to think. I retraced my steps – trying to pin down what was going on. Maybe it was the florescent lights or the smell of sterilizing solution, but I was seeing spots. Couldn’t see or think straight.

I knew it had been three days. I knew I’ve had bad luck. And I knew I was in pain. Wait, what the hell was I trying to get at again?

The doctor enters through the thin blue curtains staring intently at the charts on his clipboard. He looks up at Subject X for a moment and looks back to his clipboard. He looks at Subject X again. Looks at his charts again. Shakes his head.

“That can’t be right,” the doctor says. “Your charts have to be in error. It’s impossible or… If these were right… You wouldn’t be… It’s impossible. They must have made an error in printing these up. I’ll be right back.”

The doctor leaves the room in a hurry. He fails to draw the curtains shut behind him. He’s visibly disturbed.

Interesting.

I didn’t catch a word of what the doctor was saying. Something didn’t match something. I didn’t understand what was going on. My leg was hurting worse than ever – it would pulsate between extremes of feeling and unfeeling. It was the switch between the two sensations that hurt the most. As if all the nerves in my leg turned on at once and the ends were being tightened in a vice. From what I could remember – that pain happened at the beginning of all of this. But I couldn’t remember if it started in my leg – because I also felt a similar pain in my arm and in my chest.

The doctor comes back with his clipboard under his arm. His brow is furrowed. His expression is one of frustration and confusion.

“According to these charts. This can’t be correct. But, according to these charts, sir, you’re dead.”

What did he say? I’m only catching a couple words now. The rest just sounds like gurgling. I caught “dead.” I sure felt dead. Or worse. I don’t know how dead is supposed to feel. Yet.

“They’ve got to be false. What we might be seeing, and some of your symptoms point to this – we might be looking at some sort of parasitic virus. Can you remember consuming or being exposed to anything out of the ordinary?” The doctor says.

Under his breath he says, “It might be too late for that.”

“Can you tell me where you’re experiencing pain, now?” The doctor takes out his stethoscope and puts it in his ears. He raises it to the Subject’s chest and listens. His perplexed expression returns. He repositions his instrument and listens again. “Sir, I…I can’t hear your heart beat.”

It was all gurgles now. My vision was completely gone. I had leftover flashes of the fluorescent lights. I couldn’t feel my limbs. The pulsating of feeling in them seemed to have passed. All I could know was that things were happening around me. Or at least what used to be…

“Nurse! We need an AED in here. NOW!” The doctor yells.

Subject X collapses. His body can’t sustain any more. I’ve lost control of his movements. The doctor is applying another instrument to the Subject’s chest. There are wires leading to a machine. He presses a button. The machine is charging. I’ve got to get out of here soon. But we still need to see if they are able to detect us.

Suddenly I got the most vivid flashback I’ve ever experienced. It was three days ago and I was back on the dining patio of the restaurant. My table was right on the bay’s edge overlooking the docks where all the yachts are kept. It was my first time at the place – a little clam chowder shack that must have been there for almost a century. I’d never been there before that day even though I’d been working in the high-rise across the street for nearly 7 months. I never usually eat clam chowder, but I got this weird craving for it that afternoon. And then it hit me – right after I finished that bowl of chowder I’d dropped my phone in the bay. I had this important conference call with headquarters, the department head over there was supposed to be on it. I had pulled out the phone to double check the time scheduled for it when I lost control of my arm, it jerked, and my phone flew out of my hand and into the bay. That’s when the pain started – because I regained control after I lost my phone – then lost it. And that continued and worked its way through to the rest of me.

It doesn’t seem like they can detect us. Our plan should be safe, but I don’t think I can take another shock like that. I’ll need to make a quick exit if they plan to go again. While the Subject proves to be more mobile and versatile than our traditional vessels, it seems the protection it provides is fleeting if the system is not well sustained. I’ll try to make my way back. I’ll just need to wait it out until I can transfer myself to another vessel.

“T.O.D. 11:45 p.m. Mark it.” The doctor says. “He’s listed as an organ donor, the procurement team will be down here soon.”

There are a few others entering the room now. I count four, maybe five. My own senses are a little blurred as Subject X starts to fade completely.

“Okay, let’s move fast guys. I’m going out for oysters tonight with my lady,” a doctor says behind a blue face mask.

This all would have been easier if we could have got the oysters involved. Let’s keep exploring that moving forward.

“Let’s do this. Eyes first – they look like they’ll make good transplants. Almost looks like there’s some life left in them.”

The doctor’s taking out a sharp tool. He’s bringing it closer to the Subject’s face.

“Alrighty – here’s the left. Janet, here take it. Annnd, now the right. It’s in here a little tighter. Hang on.”

We’re compromised. I might not make it back. We know it works. If I’m exposed, move into the operation phase. Consider testing a success. Three days should be more than enough for what we need to do.

“Okay. Got it. Here you – “ The doctor must see me. “What the fuck is that!? Come over here.”

“Uh, it – I don’t know! Oh my God, it’s moving. It’s crawling in there,” the doctor named Janet says.

“Grab it!”

They’ve got me. I won’t let them take me alive!

“Oh shit, you dropped it. What the hell is that thing?”

I’m at the doctor’s feet now. I won’t last much longer like this.

“Kill it!” a doctor screams.

Squisssssssssh.

“What the hell was that thing?”

“No clue. It kind of looks like the inside of a clam.”

“Hmm weird. So, where you headed for oysters?”