Inheritance

The keyfob wasn’t where he set it last night. The countertop organizer displayed his wallet in one chamber, his wrist watch in another, and the curled lanyard attached to his company’s secure access card in the widest section. He swiped his index finger into the groove and felt the rough texture of the empty base where the keyfob would usually slide up to be scooped into his palm and slipped into his left pant pocket.

He patted his pockets front and back—nothing.

The wristwatch band was one notch loose. His wallet clipped inside his left front pocket—above where the keyfob would rest. The lanyard looped around his neck, tucked under his collar, with a yellowing plastic id card dangling at the center of his chest. His phone nestled inside the inner pocket of his blazer.

His eyes shifted from one surface to the next, looking for any sign of the keyfob’s silver and black pear shaped casing. He walked to the entrance, opened the door, stepped outside, then came back in—recreating yesterday’s return. He mimed the motion of removing the lanyard, unclasping his watch, unclipping his wallet and fishing out the keyfob from his pocket. Each item returned to its designated location. The keyfob did not.

Perhaps he imagined its placement yesterday. A phantom echo of a daily routine. If it had been missing upon entry, he’d have known and sought to locate it that very moment. Every deviation from his routine was noted and analyzed. A missing keyfob and an impromptu search for said object would not go unnoticed.

Time was ticking.

A methodical search yielded no results outside a missing sock, some loose change, and a fifth anniversary company pen with faded letttering. The pen was clipped in the coat pocket, next to the phone and sunglasses. He fastened the first button on the blazer, took a few seconds in front of a mirror and retrieved an errant strand of hair into place and exited his living quarters. He patted his pant pocket, letting the ridge of the wallet graze his palm while the absence of the keyfob was met with the grazing of fabric, rather than a click against the hard shell that was usually there. The waves of light from the rising sun forced him to slip his right hand into his coat pocket and retrieve the sunglasses. He pinched one handle, and with a flick of his wrist, the other side unfolded and he placed the eyewear in position until it rested on the bridge of his nose and was held in place by his ears.

He arrived at the company, entered the non descript building and dangled his badge across the elevator panel. One of two buttons lit. A soft whirring emanated from within the chamber as the people box lowered itself to the ground floor. When the doors opened, the lights inside flickered randomly, illuminating the box with shadows that shifted angles without order. He noted the anomaly, adjusted his coat and brushed over any creases in his pant legs before entering the unoccupied elevator.

The floor was full of activity when he stepped out. The doors slid shut behind him with a swoosh devoid of resistance and the box whirred again; the sound quickly faded. He dangled his badge in front of another sensor until a click was heard and allowed the door to be pulled open. He made a left and stopped at a visual checkpoint for an iris scan. When the light turned green, he walked through through a narrow corridor that only had enough space for one person to occupy it. He could only hear the sound of his own footsteps until he stopped at another door recessed along the hallway.

The door required a keyfob. One shaped like a pear. He patted his pockets—nothing.

He took a deep breath. Raised his left arm, knuckles chest height, fingers curled. He tapped the door. Light at first, then three more times, increasing the impact and amplifying the sound each time.

Nothing.

He waited. His weight shifted from his heels to toes, and back again. Footsteps on the otherside–louder, faster, urgent. He placed his palms flat against the door, detecting and analyzing the source as friend or foe. What he felt was the jostling of the metal pushbar on the other side as it was hit in rapid, urgent succession until it finally unlatched the door and pushed back against his palms.

A half step back allowed him enough space to insert his fingers between the door and the door jamb. An intense heat burst through the narrow seam as he pried the thick weighted door open. The lights were unusually bright. The originator of the footsteps and opener of the security door was nowhere to be found. He shielded his eyes with one hand while the other retrieved his sunglasses.

Pinch handle, flick wrist, slide into place.

Visibility was better now and two steps past the door, it latched shut behind him. He kept his feet low to the ground—heel toe, heel toe, quiet as possible as he progressed toward the foyer. Beads of sweat began to form across his forehead and the scent of flesh on fire enveloped him, causing him to stifle his urge to gag and vomit.

A burst of white haze appeared and thickened, followed by the roar of water at the bottom of a waterfall—violent and unrelenting. He placed his hands over his ears and pressed hard against his skull while kneeling on the floor with his head between his knees.

Minutes passed until the chaos subsided.

His palms gradually parted from the sides of his skull, allowing his ears to take shape and render unfiltered sound—which was now a hiss of dissapating pressure. The haze gone. Its remnants on the floor, where fine powder shifted underneath his shoes, leaving a trail of his steps behind him as he made his way into the foyer.

He stood at the threshold, visually surveying the room from left to right. Clear vertical chambers shattered, others toppled and unsealed liked broken jars; equipment strewn about like confetti. A large pool of liquid had now reached his toes and wrapped around the soles of his shoes to continue past him. The roar—reduced to a fading hiss, was now replaced by crackling glass; creaking metal; and a cacophony of water droplets from a fire suppression system that worked as expected.

One foot moved forward. The other stayed fixed in place. A need to know mixed with a fear of knowing gripped his nerves. Muscles tense, jaw clenched, balled fists that trembled. The water sloshed as he moved forward. The familiarity of everything overwhelmed his memories as he reconciled what he was seeing with what he knew before.

The moaning. One, then two, now possibly more. He shook his head. How could he have not heard them before? There was distinct, guttural beacons of pain from every direction. Each turn of his head revealed a new entity. It masked the familiarity he knew as the source. People whom he shared most of hours in a day with on a daily basis. People who had pictures of their friends and loved ones on their office desk.

A disembodied hand was floating near a fallen file cabinet. The fingers recognizable, the gurgling plea was not. He flinched—wanting to turn round and run through the door he came from. Clarity was not a welcomed companion. It brought with it the smell of chemical preservatives, raw flesh, rotting corpses, and a burning ammonia-like substance. He extended the cuff of his sleeve past his hand and bit down hard to breathe through it—a rudimentary filter of sorts.

He took a moment to think—to process the next steps, what needed to be done immediately. He moved ahead slow, careful not to slip or lose his balance, as he made his way past fallen pods. Years of research and breakthrough advancements were now unsalvageable. Through this disaster, one thing stood out—the deeper he went, the less severe damage. There was a chance, a slim possibility to be confirmed once he got there.

He waded through knee deep liquid, past the offces and conference room, beyond the break room to a door on his left. He dangled his badge across the sensor. The light flashed red. He swiped again—red. He hammered the plate with the base of his fist until the light turned amber. Another swipe of his badge—green. He was in. A few things had fallen from the bookshelves and some wall art was off kilter, but his office was intact for the most part.

He slid his chair out of the way and stood at his desk, hands clasped at each far corner, head hung low. He coughed twice. A third cough came with phlegm that he spit to the side.

There it was. His keyfob, partially covered by a folder, with only the bottom end of the pear shape revealed. He slipped his fingers under the folder and once his index finger felt the surface of the device, he slid it into his palm, embraced its familiarity as his flesh surrounded it and squeezed it for a reality check. Not what he was looking for, but a welcomed return to his pocket, below his wallet.

He pulled open each drawer in his desk, rummaging through the contents, tossing out items in any direction. His search failed to deliver what he wanted and he kicked one of the bottom drawers shut, causing it to open partially afterward. He closed his eyes and began to pantomime his last encounter with the lead researcher. The two were leaving the incubation chambers and already gone through the decontamination chamber. She held it in her right hand with the lanyard swinging past her knees. When the two entered the decompression chamber, she was now twirling the lanyard around her finger, spinning it around as she explained the latest results.

In his office, his arms swung as the two entered her office. Except, now it was gone. She was sitting at her desk with a folder in hand. He replayed the scene of them entering her office. Her hand was obscured as she unlocked the door. The next time he saw her hands was her holding the folder.

He snapped his fingers and sloshed out of his office and waded two doors down to her office. He turned the door handle—locked. He swiped his badge—red. He paced the doorway until an idea struck. He stood back against the wall and lunged his shoulders three feet forward into her door. The windows rattled but the door remained sound. He soothed his shoulder for a moment.

He walked to the utility closet and returned with a hammer. If his hunch was right, he wouldn’t need to open the door. He only needed to reach the wall mounted hook that was beside it. The impact of the hammer against the windows seemed muffled compared to the intensity of the other sounds. He slid his arm through the hole and used his fingers to feel along the wall. He managed to turn on a light switch, which caused a bright flash, a sizzle, and then resulted in continued darkness.

He would have to use his sunglasses, specifically, the temple arm to hook the lanyard. This took considerable effort—more than he imagined before he successfully retrieved the lanyard with keycard. His arm felt numb, but he shook it off by flailing it at his sides for a few seconds. With the object in hand, he continued to the lab.

The ventilation in this area was semi-functional and the water didn’t get this far. His shoes were now sticky suction cups, clinging to the floor with every step. He considered going barefoot but knowing the contents of the lab, he reconsidered and trudged forward.

The keypad functioned and the doors slid open. Everything was in place. The large chambers remained affixed to the wall without damage. He approached the third one from the right and retrieved the researcher’s keycard from his pocket. He placed it on the sensor and it deactivated some valves that released a hissing pressure of a sealed chamber door.

It took both hands gripping the handle to slide the chamber door open. A rhythmic pumping of air was facilitating its breathing. It opened its eyes, a vibrant bluish grey examined him from top to bottom. “Are you real?” it asked as it extended its arm and rested it on his shoulder.

“This belongs to us.” he said. He reached into his pocket, past his wallet and wrapped his fingers around the pear-shaped keyfob. He held it in front of him in a flat open palm.

“How long has it been?”

“Six years. Take it, the project is a success. It has also come to an end.” he said and placed the fob in the man’s hand.

“Are you me?” he took possession of the fob and examined its size, texture, weight, and construction.

“Not yet. Only one thing left.”

“I see.” He placed the fob near his temple and pressed the button. His body went limp inside the chamber.

The world turned black and silent.

When he opened his eyes, the hum of overhead lights tickled his ears and he saw himself in the chamber, slumped–-gone. The keyfob fell to the chamber floor, spinning like a top, then wobbling to an abrupt stop.