This Is The Living End But It's Still Living

My eyes are open, it's cold. I blink to focus. The room is tinted blue by the glass encasing me. My breath escapes my mouth and hits the glass, condensing in a small white patch of blur on the smooth surface. Was I breathing before?

I can hear the whir of an engine. A refrigerater. It's familiar. It cuts out and the thaw begins to set in. My hand fumbles to push against the glass. It's locked from the outside. It falls to my side again dejected.

My eyes close, I hear faint rushing sounds like wind in the trees.

The sting of a needle and the ground rushing up to meet me. Am I alive?

My eyes open. I am on a table. Bright light above me. It blinds me but I still hear voices. I am small. I can't move. A hand on my chest; the needle stings again; the rushing of the ground coming up to meet me.

I am a child of this system. Today, we're learning about death. The room is brightly lit. I am dead but standing. "Experiment number four one nine. Today is the 11th of May, nineteen ninety five. Time is...thirteen forty." Today is my birthday.

I smell decay, rotting flesh. There is a man standing across the other side of the room. He is holding a weapon. His flesh cries out to me. I move towards him but exhaustion overcomes me. I stand swaying, eyes wide open as he raises his shotgun in aim. The shots echo sharply against the thick concrete walls as he fires. And then I fall heavily against the concrete floor. I am dead but still conscious. The sound of a heavy bolt opening up, a door opens and shuts quickly again. The bolt echos again.

I stand. "Experiment number one zero three two," A speaker crackles as the voice proceeds to mark the date. It's January. I'm alive. I am conscious. "Amber, are you ready?" I go to open my mouth to speak but instead I remain silent. I shut my eyes in anticipation of the inevitable. Another man, enters the room. A draft sweeps in with him. Am I in England? America? "I always feel downright rotten when I do this." He speaks with a twang. He's American. Where though? I brace for what is coming.

Dead again. I stand up. I'm heavy and clumsy. My eyes hurt, I'm in front of a wall. There is grass underneath my bare feet. A figure in the distance barely visible. I don't want this. Not again. I open my mouth to scream and plead but all that I can manage is "Mrh" as the breath shunts from my stomach to my throat. I'm silent again as a shot rings out against the concrete walls. My blood soaks into the dirt and grass.

Dead. I stand up. Another figure. I brace for the impact.

I'm dead. This time I sleep. The nights are cool, black, forgiving, without dreams. The days bring echoing shots, figures standing in the distance, the crackling speaker. I stop counting days.

A tingle in my feet, am I alive? "Experiment number nine six three two." The monotony is broken. I'm being taught something new. Life? Maybe this is life. There are others in the room. Six males, two females. They're dressed in green gowns, slits running up the back. Their skin is smooth and pasty. Another man in a uniform is teaching us how to kill. His brightly coloured charts contrast with the plain grey concrete walls. We are sitting behind a table. It's heavy, antique, red.

"Experiment number one zero two six. Today is the 7th June 2005. Time is...eight forty two." I am alive. It's raining in the exercise yard of the fort. The doctor is watching on from behind as I make my way across the field. A figure casts his shadow against the wall. Today, we're testing my abilities. I am to murder him. It is a final test of skill. I hold in my hand a shotgun. I raise it's sights to eye level and watch the shambling creature from ten feet away. It stares blankly at me. It's barely alive. I release the safety. "Mrh?" I pull the trigger, the shell connects to the flesh. It's blood soaks into the dirt and grass.

I am alive. I haven't been dead for some time now. In line, about seven people in front of me. They are being stuck full of needles. There are about twenty behind me in the room. All of us are dressed in camoflage.
"State your designation."
"One zero eight two zero four six, sir."
The man taps on a keyboard. "DNA, Rubella, Tetanus, Malaria." A needle in my arm extracts blood. The red contrasts quite pretty against the white doctor's robes. Another needle injects clear syrum into my veins. He stamps my card. I am sent off to war.

I am in a room my legs are in stirrups. I am having eggs extracted. The news is good. Six perfect healthy eggs. I'll be informed of the progress. "Thanks for all your work with us Amber. I bet you're looking forward to going back to Malton after all this time." I nod and smile at him. "I'm just disappointed that Necrotech got the cure before we did. Sort of makes your work with us look sort of pointless now." Pity fleets across his face. "At least someone got it. All those soldiers trapped there have hope now." Another silence. I'm alive. I'm getting dressed. I'm walking out the door.