Our writing group was really starting to roll by mid 2006. For our third round, we decided to write stories that all started with the same sentence. I started one story, wasn't satisfied with it, and so wrote this one instead. This was shortly after watching one of the X-Men movies, and I was thinking of the many different ways that life might be unfair if mutants really existed. I had a lot of fun with this story, and years later I even ended up revising my first attempt at a story for this round - but more on that later.
Doppelgänger Dynamite
by Rusty Keele
The sky was turning blood red as the sun set behind the hills. Leaning over the wooden railing, he pretended to watch the water as two men in dark trench coats made their way towards him. Still breathing heavily he kept his eyes on the boat circling below him as the two agents stopped several yards away.
"C'mon Jacobs," one of them said, "don't make this harder than it has to be."
Jacobs stood up straight and turned to face the two agents. He looked at the one who had spoken to him. It was uncanny – the man looked exactly like Jacobs except for two things: he had all his fingers on his right hand, and the tag on his uniform read "Sargent Block."
"You...really...need to leave...us alone." Jacobs said between breaths. "It will only...cause you grief...and will eventually...lead to your death."
Block's face reddened. "You piece of ..."
"Calm down, Block" said the other agent. "Let's just get this over with."
Block took a deep breath and glanced at his partner, "You're right James." Then he focused his eyes on Jacobs. "You're coming with us right now... one way or the other." He started to reach into his trench coat.
Jacobs turned and began sprinting across the bridge. Block forgot whatever he was reaching for and both he and his partner started after him. Suddenly Jacobs stopped and turned back towards the agents. His arm was stretched out sideways, gun in hand, and he was giving them a very serious sidelong look. "Back off!" he shouted. The agents didn't move. Jacobs moved slowly towards the railing.
"That's not really a gun, is it." Block said coolly, his eyes fixed on the weapon.
Jacobs smiled, and the gun morphed back into his hand. "Very good, Blockhead. I see it's going to take brains to outsmart you, isn't it? Now if I only had the time..." With that Jacobs stepped onto the railing and dove towards the river.
As he fell Jacobs changed into a large white swan and began flying away. The two agents could only watch from the railing as the bird skimmed away along the river.
But Jacobs hadn't gone very far when there was an explosion. A thousand small pellets slammed into him causing him to crash into the water. The agent on the boat had been waiting, and now that he had shot the bird he laid his gun aside and gave a sharp command. Immediately his dog jumped into the water and began swimming for the bird.
Jacobs was stunned, but not dead. Those pellets had a peculiar effect on him, however, and he found himself unable to morph. The water was impossibly cold, and he tried his best to swim, but his huge wings were too laden with water. He stuck his long neck above the water and gasped at what he thought would be his last gulp of air. Then he sank below the surface.
The water was like icicles piercing his side. Struggling to get his head above the water he suddenly felt something sharp and warm grasp his neck. He was pulled above the water but didn't know whether to be thankful or frightened as he realized he was in the clutches of a huge German Shepard that was itself struggling to stay afloat. The dog only struggled for a few moments before being rescued by the boat agent. Both Jacobs and the dog were pulled from the water, but Jacobs was flung brutally to the slippery deck. He tried to stand on his webbed feet and shake the water off, but was again grasped around the neck, this time by a human hand.
The agent laughed sarcastically as he pinned the bird to the deck. "You think you're so clever don't you? Well, let's see what you think of this." He held up a long sharp metal stick then jabbed it into Jacobs side. Jacobs tried to morph, but couldn't. Then he felt an electric current blazing through his body, and he could no longer keep his swan shape. He melted back into human form.
As he lay on the deck, under the heavy hand of the agent and the watchful growl of the dog, he was dazed and a little bit awed. "How did you do that?" he rasped.
"Nifty, isn't it?" the agent chuckled. "One of the new toys we have for you elusive little Morphs!" His eyes grew dark, "And here is something else I have for you – though it isn't quite as 'revolutionary' as the Retin Stick." Jacobs saw the man's fist cock back, and he struggled to turn his head before he was knocked unconscious.
***
Jacobs was in one of those "special" jails he had heard so much about. As he sat on his bottom bunk he surveyed the cell: there were three sets of bunk beds, a rough hewn basin, a bucket and four other Morphs in here with him. There were no windows, and the walls were smooth and air tight. The front of the cell was completely sealed off with some sort of plexi-glass. It would be difficult to escape from here.
All of his cell mates were currently in their human forms. There were three other males, and one waifish, dark-haired teenage girl. Most of them were relaxing on their bunks.
"He's coming!" said Andrew, who was in the corner of the cell and looking down the hallway which lead into the room on the other side of the glass. Like the others he couldn't stand Sargent Block, but unlike them he continually harassed their jail-keeper. "Shh!" he said as he backed away from the glass, crouched down and changed into a big black Doberman.
As Sargent Block walked into that part of the room just beyond the glass, Andrew barked furiously and leapt at the glass wall.
He didn't break the glass, but he made quite a racket as he hit the clear wall and convincingly portrayed a rabid attack dog. Apparently he had achieved the desired effect because Sargent Block jumped away from the glass and dropped the tray of food. Most of the cell mates groaned at the sight of their meal on the floor. Block had a horrible look on his face.
"Haaaaaa ha ha ha ha......aah ha ha ha ha!" It was Susan, the waifish girl. She had genuinely enjoyed seeing Block look so scared, and wasn't afraid to show it. Block, however, did not look even a little bit amused. He was enraged as he moved closer to the glass and carefully eyed the big black dog – which was still barking furiously – its gaze fixed on the Sargent.
"You think that's funny, do you?" said Block. "Well, let's see how you like this." He moved to the control desk that was adjacent to the glass cell wall, and filled half the room. He glanced one more time at the cell's inhabitants, and then hit what the cell mates affectionately called "the freeze button." Andrew saw it coming but was unable to change back fast enough. Once Block pushed the button all the Morphs were effectively "frozen" in their current form. Unfortunately for Andrew, he had only partially changed back into his human form when Block hit the button. Now he thrashed around on the floor, a monster somewhere between a giant black dog and a human. His screaming howl was terrible, and the cell mates would have to endure this ugly loud beast for the next six hours until the freeze wore off.
"Ha ha." said Block sarcastically, looking first at the half morphed Andrew, then at Susan. "Have a good time... freaks." He turned and strode out of the room.
***
Sargent Block would visit the cell mates twice – and only twice – each day. They could count on him to show up sometime in the morning, and sometime in the afternoon. Though they had no way of telling the hour, he seemed to consistently come at the same times. He would bring their food tray, make all of them get on their bunks, check some things on the control desk, push the "return" button to force them all return to their human form, then hit the freeze button to make sure they stayed human. After he was satisfied he would push the food tray through the door, re-lock it, make some snide remark, then leave.
It was while waiting for their "dinner" visit one day that Matthew asked Jacobs about his missing finger. Jacobs had been in the jail for weeks, and was surprised that no one had brought it up before. Huddled against his knees he looked at the spot where his little finger used to be, then glanced through his straight black hair at the portly 20-something Matthew. "Well... I kind of blew it up."
"Kind of? It looks like you did a pretty good job to me."
"Yeah, well, I've always been fascinated with explosives. So when I was a kid I changed that one finger into a firecracker. After blowing it up - just to make sure it would - there wasn't anything left to morph back onto my hand. I always wanted to try it again, but I never did. I figured if I kept blowing up body parts pretty soon there wouldn't be anything left of me."
He chuckled but no one else did. In fact the whole cell now seemed deathly quiet. Jacobs noticed that the other three cell mates were looking at him too – suddenly interested in the conversation.
"Wait a minute - you can change into inanimate objects?" Rex asked.
Jacobs glanced at the muscular olive skinned man. "Yeah, so."
"I've heard about your kind, but I never believed it."
"My kind?"
"You know what I mean, Morphs who can change into something other than animals or other humans."
"Yeah, well, its difficult. And things don't always morph back like they're supposed to."
"Well come on!" said Andrew, rising from his bunk. "Show us!"
It had been a long time since anyone had asked to see him transform. He enjoyed that smug feeling of knowing he could do something that others couldn't. It felt good, but he still glanced down the hallway before proceeding. "Okay, why not." he said as he swung his feet onto the floor. The others gathered in a tight circle around him, eager to see his morphing magic. Jacobs crouched down in the center of them and held out his left hand, fingers spread and palm face down. He focused intently on his hand, and slowly his little finger began to change. There was a soft crinkling sound as it changed into a small papery cylinder. Soon a little fuse grew out of what had been his fingertip, then the whole thing covered itself in red paper with white flowers. They all watched in amazement as the bottom of the firecracker pinched together near his knuckle, completely detached itself and fell onto the floor. His left hand was now a mirror image of his right.
Jacobs smiled, gave a quick sigh and picked up the firecracker. They all gathered a little closer and peered at the object.
"Wow... did that hurt? Will it really blow up?" asked Susan.
"Yes, and yes. I'm pretty sure it will, but let's not try ..." he began, but was cut off.
"What is going on in there!" yelled Sargent Block. The cell mates guiltily jumped to their feet and turned towards the glass wall. Standing up very slowly, Jacobs put the firecracker in his pocket before he turned to face Block.
"Collaborating, are you?" the Sargent asked slowly but gruffly. After a few minutes of silence and crusty stares, Block set their food tray on the control desk, leaned over it and slapped the return button. Nothing happened.
Staring at them, Block's face began to get red. "You little freaks!" He clenched his fist and pounded the freeze button. Again, nothing unexpected happened. Gritting his teeth, Block stood up and grabbed one of the Retin sticks. He walked to the door in the glass and opened it but remained outside. "Jacobs! Come and get the food!" he barked.
No one moved, Jacobs least of all. The red faced Block spat out more curses and commands before finally issuing his ultimatum: "Jacobs! If you don't come and get this tray I swear none of you will ever eat again! Do you understand me!"
Jacobs slowly began moving towards the Sargent. Without looking at Block he passed through the doorway and started towards the food tray. Sargent Block pushed the door shut and swung the stick at Jacobs back. It made a sickening thud as it slammed into him. He crumpled to the floor. Block stood over him and beat him with the stick several times. Then he shot a nasty glance at the others and dragged Jacobs back into the cell.
"You monster!" yelled Susan, staring daggers at the Sargent.
"Now now," he said "you wouldn't want to end up like your friend there would you?" He looked from Susan to the rest of them. "I'd better not hear another word about this." And with that he sauntered out of the room.
The other cell mates gathered around Jacobs. There were tears streaming down Susan's face. "Are you alright?" she asked as she began wiping the blood off his face.
Jacobs sat up and glanced at each of them through his long greasy hair. He reached into his pocket, held out his hand and showed them the firecracker.
Susan gasped, and the others looked genuinely astonished. "How is that possible?" she asked.
"I don't know." said Jacobs.
"The return button didn't affect it..." pondered Rex. "Maybe it only works on animate objects."
"That would make sense," piped in Matthew. "Who ever built this jail probably didn't think it would be holding the kind of changelings that could morph into inanimate objects... if they even believed in such things."
Jacobs eyes were filled with burning hate as he gave an evil grin. "You're right... no one would think of that, would they."
Susan and Matthew helped Jacobs back into his bunk, then did their best to clean him up. He looked better than before, but still not great. They just didn't have the necessary supplies to care for him properly. Jacobs didn't speak for the rest of the evening. Finally it grew dark, and they all went to bed.
***
For the next few days Jacobs spent nearly all of his time in his bunk. At first it was to get better and get his strength up. But after that he still sulked in bed. His mood grew darker, and he refused to talk to the others. He wouldn't eat and anytime Block entered the room he would clench his teeth and his fists in a sort of brewing rage.
One night Susan woke up to find him sitting cross legged in his bunk, morphing his hand into various kinds of weapons. Concerned, she watched him for a while. He seemed to know what she was doing, and after a while he slowly turned his head and looked at her through his hair. His eyes were hard and cold. The expression on his face was one of absolute hatred. She rolled over and pretended to sleep.
The next morning Jacobs was out of his bunk. Still looking very sultry he stood near the glass wall and tried to see down the hallway. Not long before breakfast was scheduled to come Jacobs turned and walked to the center of the cell. With his back to the glass wall, he crouched down and motioned for the others to gather around. "I have a plan" he said.
***
When Sargent Block carried their morning food tray into the room, they were waiting for him. Jacobs was standing close to the glass, and was turned slightly so that his left side was facing Block. All of the other Morphs, in a tight group near the back wall, nervously eyed both Jacobs and the Sargent.
Block set the tray on the control desk, and very calmly faced the cell mates. "What's going on this fine morning?" he asked in a falsely polite way.
"You" said Jacobs.
"Me? What about me?"
"You... fat... stupid... groveling... government peon!" Jacobs whole body was clenched, and he was trembling as he spat the words out.
Block's face predictably turned red. Without taking his eyes off Jacobs, he casually swept the food tray onto the floor. As its contents spilled across the tile, he leaned across the desk and said "Whoops. No breakfast for ..." That's when Jacobs began backing away from the glass, smiling and holding his arms up in victory – or that's what it would have been if Jacobs would have had both arms. As it was he only had one – his left one. His right arm was completely missing – pinched cleanly off just below the shoulder.
Block was both surprised and confused. He began looking around frantically. Then he saw it - in front of the control desk and right next to the glass wall – the biggest stick of dynamite he had ever seen, and its fuse was nearly burned down. He looked up again. Jacobs was smiling and standing directly in front of the other cell mates. He laughed and held up his one hand to flip Block the bird. "See you in Hell, Blockhead!" He stretched his arm and legs wide in a triangular stance, then morphed into a solid steel plate. The plate was thick and U-shaped, and it was positioned directly between the dynamite and the other cell mates.
Block looked at the shield, the dynamite and then the control desk. By the time he realized what was happening it was too late. He moved his hand to punch the return button, but never made it. There was an immensely large and unbelievably loud explosion. The glass wall shattered as the control desk and Sargent Block were blown backwards in a ball of fire. The steel plate, along with everything else in the cell was hurled against the back wall.
***
Susan was the first to recover, awakened by her own coughing. Sitting up quickly she surveyed the scene: there was dust and smoke everywhere, it was very hot and there was a loud roaring sound. The shield was gone, and Jacobs lay on the floor in front of her. He was now missing much more than his right arm. His body was charred and bloody, and his empty hollow eyes gazed directly at her.
"You idiot." she muttered in disgust. He was obviously dead, but he wasn't the only one. To her right was Matthew, who had apparently been caught between the shield and the wall – his chest, rib cage and right thigh were completely crushed. She shook the other two awake. As quickly as they could they gathered themselves together and started to move.
Outside of the smoking and flaming building three large dogs stumbled through the rubble. They were all wounded and limping, but they stopped for just a moment to look around. There was shattered glass all around them, and several car alarms were going off. They could hear sirens in the distance. That was their old familiar cue. They limped away before anyone noticed them.
The End
This story copyright © 2006 Rusty Keele. All rights reserved.
