Chapter Three
Tyler
“Tyler!” my mom called. “It’s time for dinner. Wash up and come downstairs!”
I shut off the television, dragged myself out of bed, and went into my bathroom to wash up. When I stepped into the dining room, both of my parents looked at me with odd expressions.
“What’s up?” I asked.
Mom forced a smile. “Um, not much. Hope you’re hungry.”
Even though my mom had made my favorite, chicken enchiladas, I had to admit, I wasn’t feeling very hungry. There was a dance coming up the following week and I’d been trying to think of a way to invite Rani without scaring her off. Although she’d always insisted that we were just friends, I still couldn’t help the intense feelings that I kept hidden from her. Every time we were together, and she smiled up at me or laughed, I wanted to grab her and try that kiss one more time. Make her want me the way that I wanted her. But, I was afraid it would destroy our friendship, and at least that was something.
“Dig in,” my father said as he scooped a generous helping of enchiladas onto his plate. “Looks good, Diane,” he continued, adding a large dollop of sour cream to the top.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” she replied, beaming at him. “Just try to save enough for the rest of us.” She turned to me. “Tyler, honey, you better grab some before your Dad takes it all.”
I nodded and put a small piece on my plate. As I picked at my food, an image of Rani popped into my head again. How in the hell was I going to get her to go with me to the dance? I knew she wanted to go, and there was no way I’d be able to handle it if she went without me. No way.
“You okay,” asked mom.
I looked up from my food. “Yeah. Fine.”
“Okay,” she replied, staring at me curiously.
I glanced over at my dad, who normally had half of his plate devoured before I even started, and noticed that he’d barely touched his enchiladas. In fact, as he stared down at his pile of food, he actually looked a little sad.
“Hey, Dad,” I teased. “What's the problem? Is it too spicy for ya?” We and had the same inside joke. A year ago, we’d gone to the Minnesota State fair and had entered a jalapeno eating contest together. Before we’d even arrived in the parking lot, he’d bragged that since he’d married mom, he’d grown a cast-iron stomach.
“Son, the secret to eating spicy food is to just swallow it whole, and plug your nose,” he’d informed me after we’d sat down at the picnic table, waiting for the contest to begin.
“Okay,” I’d replied, trying to sound braver than I actually felt. I’d had jalapenos before, but not a lot, and definitely not in one sitting.
“On your mark… get set… go!” yelled the announcer, after they’d given all ten of us a quart-sized bowl of the whole peppers.
I still remember looking down at them, and just the smell had made my eyes water. I’d glanced over at my dad, who’d already swallowed at least ten and was stuffing in another, when I’d noticed his eyes - they were watering and he also had sweat running down his face.
“You okay?” I’d whispered.
Instead of answering me, he’d turned the most curious color of green I’d ever seen. Next thing I knew, he opened his mouth and projected a gush of vomit so intense, that it would have given that kid, Regan, from The Exorcist movie a run for her money.
“Oh, my God!” a woman had cried, sitting in the front row, and who was now covered in chunks of jalapenos, corn dogs, and cotton candy. “You’ve got to be kidding me?!”
I’d tried to stifle a giggle as everything began to unravel around us. First, the obese farmer sitting next to my dad must have caught a whiff of the puke, because he also lost it. Then, to everyone’s horror, down the line, each contestant began sputtering, gagging, and emptying out their stomachs.
“Come on,” groaned dad, grabbing me by the neck of my T-shirt. His face was pale and his lips were swollen from the peppers and stomach acid. “Let's get out of here.” We ran to the nearest bathroom where I watched as he tried his best to clean up.
“Let me guess, the swallowing thing backfired,” I’d teased as he blotted his face with wet paper towels. “And it was too much for your wimpy stomach.”
“Smartass,” he’d replied, trying his best not to smile. “Uh, let's go home before the locals catch up with us. They might just hang us up by our toenails if they find us.”
Picturing my dad hanging by his yellow toenails had made me gag. “Yeah, let’s cruise.”
Obviously, thinking back to the contest, my dad looked up from his plate of enchiladas and winked. “Don’t remind me. That had to be the most embarrassing day of my life.”
“Oh, you’ve had worse,” said mom, and they shared a smile.
I stuffed a forkful of food in my mouth. As I began to chew, I watched my parents curiously. For some reason, neither of them were eating. They both just stared down at their plates somberly.
“You guys sick?” I asked.
“No,” they both said in unison.
“Okay,” I said, watching them curiously. I ate a few more bites and then put my fork down. I just couldn’t do it. Thoughts of Rani were still interfering with my own appetite. “May I be excused?”
“Yes,” she answered, smiling almost nervously. “Why don’t you go the living room; we’re going to have a family meeting.”
I pushed myself away from the table, and then wandered into the living room. Plopping down into the oversized couch, I wondered what this was about. “Family meetings” weren’t something our family did very often.
A little tense, and with the spicy food not really settling very well in my stomach, I began to worry that the enchiladas would make a second appearance, and I grimaced.
Dad came in first, followed by my mom. They sat down in the loveseat across from me, and for some reason, I noticed that they both had a mixture of fear and nervousness on their faces.
“Tyler,” my dad began, “your mother and I have some very important news for you, and frankly, we just don't know how to begin.”
My mom then interrupted him. “What your father is trying to say, is that we have invited a man over to talk with you.”
“A man? Why, what’s going on?” I exclaimed, sitting up straighter. “You’re not sending me off to some swanky college on the other side of the country, are you? I told you I’d be just as happy if I stayed in town.”
My parents looked at each other and chuckled. “No, dear,” my mom replied. “Nothing like that.”
Just then, the doorbell rang. My mom glanced nervously over toward my father before she got up to answer the door.
I could hear the door open, followed by a hushed conversation right before the stranger entered our living room. I had to admit, he was an impressive looking figure - well over six feet, blond hair that was tied back into a ponytail, broad shoulders, and a strong chin. I’d actually expected someone in a suit from a college or church group, but this guy wore a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a black leather jacket, and a dark T-shirt. He actually didn't look much older than me, maybe a few years or so.
“This is our son, Tyler,” my dad said, introducing me the stranger. “Tyler, this is Phillip.”
“Please, please,” replied the man, holding out his hand. “Call me Phil. It’s very nice to meet you, Tyler.”
I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, too, Phil.”
“Please, Phillip, err… I mean Phil, have a seat,” said my mom, sounding nervous.
I watched Phil as he sat down, trying to size him up, and wondering what the hell he was doing here and what it could possibly do with me.
“Tyler,” Phil began, staring at me intently. “Have your parents told you anything about the exciting changes that are happening across the world?”
I shook my head.
“Well,” he continued. “There have been many technological advances in the past few years that have made it possible for the human body to stop aging.”
Raising my eyebrows, I glanced over at my parents, expecting them to burst out laughing over the absurdity of what this man was saying.
“Ty,” my mom said, noticing my expression. “Just hear Phil out”
“Fine,” I said, sitting back in the sofa. I crossed my arms over my chest. “But so far, I still have no idea what the hell is going on here.”
“Our company,” Phil continued, “has found a way to prolong human life indefinitely. Here, take a look at this video. It will give you an idea of what I’m talking about.” He then pulled his laptop out of his messenger bag, and slid in a CD labeled “Eternals.” The whole room was silent as we watched him prepare the video. When it began, I noticed that it looked like it was shot inside of a hospital room. There was a man on the table, and he had some kind of electrodes on his scalp and chest.
“The readouts are of his brain and heart rate measurements,” said Phil, pointing to the machines next to the bed.
We continued to watch the screen. The video went on for a few moments, just showing the man lying there with the machines around him beeping and buzzing. Then another man entered the room wearing hospital scrubs. He pulled out a long needle and syringe and then plunged it into the patient’s thigh. The man on the bed immediately started to convulse, and the machines that were monitoring his vitals started going nuts. The heart rate monitor, previously at around sixty, sky-rocketed all the way to two-hundred. I watched in disbelief as it quickly started to plummet back down. One-ninety-five, one-hundred, sixty, thirty, twenty, fifteen, ten, and then… flat-line.
“What the fuck was that?” I screamed in horror looking at my parents, then to Phil. “Why would you make me watch a man die? What kind of sick, twisted joke is this?”
“Honey” my mom said as calm as she could. “Just sit down and watch the rest.”
I ignored my mother. “Dad,” I implored. “Please tell me what’s going on…”
“Sit down, son, and watch the rest of the video,” he replied evenly. “Then we can finish our conversation. You’ll understand in a few minutes.”
I reluctantly sat back down.
Phil, who had paused the video, studied me closely and then restarted it.
I sighed.
The man on the video now lay motionless, obviously dead. The video camera moved and focused on the man’s slack face. After about one or two minutes, I saw it.
The man’s eyelids began moving rapidly!
I moved closer to the laptop screen, not believing what I was seeing. The machines that were once silent began beeping again. The heart monitor now indicated a normal heart-rate of close to sixty.
What the heck?
The patient on the table, who had just been dead, was now being helped to sit up. He looked at the camera with a twinkle in his eyes, and gave a thumbs-up. Then the screen went black.
Staring at the blank screen for what seemed like an eternity, I turned to Phil. “How, how is that possible? I saw it with my own two eyes - that dude was dead.”
“That is what I am trying to tell you, Tyler,” Phil said, smiling triumphantly. “We have found a serum that will allow humans to never age, never get sick. You’ll have the same results. Of course, in order to sustain life, your diet will need to change.”
“What?” I asked.
He smirked. “Oh, you’ll get used to it.”
“Get used to what?” I asked, feeling the hair stand up on the back of my neck..
He shrugged. “Blood. Preferably human.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “That’s just wrong,” I said, shaking my head vehemently. “A diet of blood?”
“Think about it - your body is made of about sixty percent of water and you need to keep replenishing it daily. This is almost the same thing, only you’ll be immortal and live forever because of the blood.” He grinned. “A true Eternal.”
I glared at him. “We were never intended to live forever.”
“Whether we were or weren’t,” said Phil. “It doesn’t matter, because now we can. You can.”
“No,” I said firmly. There was no way that I was going to drink blood. The thought repulsed me.
“Yes,” said Phil, his eyes turning cold. “And as you’ll see, you don’t have much of a choice.”
“No way!” I yelled, turning toward my parents. “No way will I ever become a freak of nature! How could you even ask me to participate in something like this? It’s wrong!”
“Son, it isn’t wrong. In fact,” my dad said softly. “We’ve already done it.”
“What?!” I shouted, staring at him in disbelief.
“We did,” said mom, her eyes filling with tears. “We did it for us, our family.”
“Bullshit!!” I retorted. “You made this decision without talking with me first, you and her!” I hollered while pointing at my mother accusingly. “You two did this for yourselves; don't pretend for one second that your decision was based on anything but your selfishness!”
“Tyler!” barked my dad as I ran up to my room and slammed the door.
Could this really be happening? Am I getting ‘Punk'd’? Is Ashton Kutcher going to jump out of my closet?
I sat down on my bed, trying to process what had just happened. Phil claimed that we can live forever... never age... or get sick. Oh, but by the way, the only way you can survive is on human blood. How the fuck did I just end up in some Twilight bullshit?
I opened my door just a crack, straining my ears so I could hear what was going on downstairs, but I could only hear mumbled voices. I quietly edged the door open a little further to see if I could hear any better, but damned if I still couldn’t hear shit. Trembling and angry, I slowly opened the door and crept silently to the top of the stairs.
“I am sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson,” Phil was saying, “but, you do know what has to be done, and you also know the repercussions if it is not taken care of,” he paused, “tonight.”
What has to be done? What repercussions could he be talking about, and why would my parents ever put our family in jeopardy?
I heard my mother start to cry. “I just can’t… I just can't do it,” she said through her tears.
“What other choice do we have?” my father asked. “Tyler has made it perfectly clear that he does not want to go through with it.”
“Well,” my mom said sternly, “we can force him to do it. We -”
Phil interrupted her. “I am sorry, Mrs. Jacobson, but the agreement clearly states that an individual, who is over the age of eighteen, has free will on what they choose to do. The choice is - become one of us, or die. There is no in-between or gray area.”
“I.., just... can't... do... it,” said my mother between sobs.
I heard footsteps and the front door slamming.
“Mr. Jacobson, it has to be done. Now,” Phil said in a tone which almost sounded remorseful. “Either I do it… or you do.”
I could hear my father’s heavy footsteps pacing back and forth on the wooden floor in the living room. Was he actually considering letting this crazy stranger kill me, or worse yet, trying to kill me himself?
“Ok,” he said in a husky voice. “I will do it, but… I want to do it alone.”
“That is fine by me, Mr. Jacobson,” Phil conceded. “But, I will be back here in the morning, and I will need proof that your son is dead. Make no mistake - if you fail, not only do you lose your life, but the life of your wife as well.”
“I understand” my father said. “I will take care of it.”
“Good.”
It sounded as if Phil was packing up his laptop. Was he really going to leave my dad alone? I grinned. What a sucker. There was no way that my dad would ever kill me, I thought. He must have a plan for us to get out of this situation.
They moved to the front door and I could still faintly make out a conversation that my father was having with Phil, reassuring him that he’d take care of everything. Then the door opened and closed.
I held my breath, waiting for my dad to come upstairs and tell me what the plan was. I waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity, but then I could hear my father beginning to pace again in the living room.
What the hell was he doing? Was he actually considering going through with it?!
I silently crept down the stairs and stood in the hallway as silently as I could, wondering what to do. I peeked around the corner and saw him pacing.
I bit my lower lip, considering my options. I could just approach him and pretend that I was blissfully unaware of the conversation that he and Phil just had. “Hey, Dad, crazy shit about that vampire kind of stuff, huh? Wanna go shoot some hoops?” I smiled in spite of myself over the crazy notion. Just then, my father abruptly stopped and went into the kitchen. I heard the kitchen drawers opening and closing, he then headed back through the living room with a chef's knife.
My stomach dropped and I immediately felt dizzy. It was clear, he had made his decision.
***
Phil
Those were the house calls I hated the most, families that did not see eye-to-eye. I did understand that making such a life-changing decision must be hard for them, but normally once the shock wore off, the majority of people jumped at the chance of becoming immortal.
Who could resist the gift of living forever, without aging or getting sick?
Of course, they did not realize that living like that had its drawbacks. Nor did they realize how long ‘forever’ really was.
I, unfortunately, was never given a choice.
I am the son of one the most powerful and well respected pure Eternals in the world, a pure Eternal is one whose bloodline has not been tainted with human blood. My mother was born a human and my father, one-hundred percent Eternal. It was actually my DNA that was used to create the serum DD8. I cringe when I think about the trials that failed before they finally got the serum right. Even now I shudder when I think back to the poor homeless man who had been the first human guinea pig for DD1. We had picked him up from an alley behind a biker bar in Minneapolis. We’d promised him one hundred dollars for just taking a ride with us.
The man hopped into the van without hesitation, his eyes full of desperation.
“So whatcha guys need me to do?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice. “I ain't no queer, so don't you be getting any funny ideas.”
“Relax” I told him. “We just need to test out a new flu shot.”
“Flu?” he replied, looking at us with uncertainty. “You don't look like no doctors to me.”
I laughed, because he was right; we did not look like doctors. We looked more like a rock band. Big John was the driver and Steve Marder, my right-hand man. Big John was just shy of five feet and couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds. He had long, stringy black hair and tattoos that covered almost every inch of his pale body. He definitely looked like a bad-ass when he was sitting down, but unintimidating as all hell when he stood up. Actually, I always thought he looked like a fifth grader gone bad. Steve, on the other hand, had been the exact opposite. Six-foot-five, Native American who weighed in at three-hundred pounds and looked like he could squash you like a bug if you looked at him wrong. I’d been his best friend for years, and was still slightly intimidated by the son-of-a-bitch.
“Nah,” I replied. "We aren't doctors, we just work for them”
“How long this gonna take?” the homeless man asked. “I got me a hot date later.”
“You do, huh?” I answered with a laugh.
“Shit yeah, I do,” the homeless man replied seriously. “Do you know how much ass a hundred bucks can buy me?”
I shuddered to myself thinking about the “ass” the man would be getting later.
We drove the rest of the day in silence until we reached my father’s research facility.
The Knightingdale.
Knightindale during the day was a hustling and bustling legitimate research company whose primary objective was food safety. They were responsible for making sure that all foods being served to large institutions, such as hospitals, schools, and prison were being handled properly and contained the correct amount of nutritional value as outlined by the government. I worked there a few summers back as an intern, and I was shocked at the amount of rodent hair and feces which was legally allowed.
We drove to the back of the facility. Then after we all piled out, we walked up to the huge iron door at the back entrance. I pushed the buzzer and we waited. Finally, my father opened the door.
“Follow me” he said shortly, “we don't have much time.”
My father was a very intimidating-looking man. He was an inch or two taller than me, had the same crew cut for years, and his eyes were darkest brown I have ever seen. Sometimes they even looked black.
We followed my father down the hall, and the homeless man had to do a slight jog just to keep up with us. We stopped just outside of one of the smaller research labs.
“Get undressed,” my father barked at the homeless man.
“Hey, Doc, I already told your cronies here that I aint into the gay stuff,” the homeless man said, sounding a bit nervous.
“Strip down to your boxers,” my father said, ignoring the homeless man’s previous comments. “And follow me.”
“It's ok,” I reassured him. “We just need you to get undressed so he can monitor your vitals.”
“Well, he shoulda just said that, for Christ sakes,” the homeless man said as he removed his shirt. “He don't need to be such a dick about it.”
If you had any idea about what a dick he really is, my friend, you would be running out of here right now, I thought.
The room had been transformed and really did look like a legitimate hospital room. In the middle of the room was a hospital bed, and on either side was a heart monitor and what looked like a ventilator.
“Gimme my hundred bucks,” the homeless guy said to me. “Don't wanna do this until I see the dough.”
I pulled a hundred out of my wallet. “Here,” I said, handing it over. “This will be the quickest hundred bucks you will ever make.”
“Better be,” he said. “Standing around in a room full of dudes in my skivvies is not how I pictured my day going.”
“Quit with the chatter,” my Father demanded. “You,” he said, pointing at the homeless man. “Get on the bed.”
The man quietly walked to the bed and lay down. He looked like he was beginning to get a little nervous.
“Dude,” I said, “I promise you, one quick shot and we are outta here, then you can go get that ass.” I smiled and gave him a high five.
The man seemed to relax a bit, that is, until my father started to strap his arms down.
“What the hell is this?” he asked as my father tightened the first strap.
“It is for your protection,” he answered flatly.
“What the hell kind of flu shot requires straps?” the homeless man asked.
My father quickly looked at me inquisitively.
I just shrugged my shoulders.
“In case you have an allergic reaction,” I answered the man quickly. That seemed to settle the man down enough for my father to attach the remaining three straps.
The man was swiftly connected to all the tubing and wiring necessary to monitor his vitals. He was calm as my father attached the last piece of wire to the metal disc.
“Yo,” the man said, looking over at it. “This ain’t gonna hurt, is it? I may look like tough dude, but man, I hate pain.”
“No,” I replied, not really sure how to answer him. We’d never done this before. I hoped for his sake that this really would be painless and quick. That he could walk out of here and go get laid.
“Enough!” my father snapped. “We have to do this now, time is running out.”
I looked at the clock. It was already three a.m. The facility opened at six a.m., but sometimes the scientists arrived earlier.
My father pulled the syringe out of his pocket and looked over at me. “You forgetting something, Phil?” he asked.
Oh shit, I’d almost forgotten.
I grabbed the camcorder out of the bag and hastily began recording.
“I am ready,” I said to my father.
He shook his head and pushed the needle into the man’s vein. The man held his breath as the serum was then pushed through.
“Aw... geez,” the man complained. “It hurts.”
I held the camcorder as still as I could, making sure the man and the machines were all in the shot. After a few minutes, the man’s blood pressure and heart rate started to drop. The man seemed to be gasping for air. My gut reaction was to throw the camera down and try to help him, but I knew I couldn't. I agreed to do this and I had to keep filming.
The heart rate monitor was now a flat line. He was dead.
My father quickly checked the man’s vitals and was taking notes as he checked all the machines.
Then I heard it. Beep… Beep...
It worked!! My father had done it!
Then it sped up. Beep. Beep. Beep.Beep.Beep The machine started to go haywire.
My father ran to the man and took his pulse. “NO! NO! NO!” he shouted. “This is not supposed to happen.”
“What can I do?” I yelled to him.
“Nothing!” he yelled back. “Just keep recording, dammit!”
I watched in horror as the scene unfolded before me. The homeless man was now convulsing fiercely. His mouth began to foam and his eyes seemed to be bulging out of his head. He then opened his lips and it looked as if he was trying to scream, but nothing came out.
I looked over at my father, who was still racing around the bed, trying to keep track of the changes in his vitals. Then, as quickly as it began… it stopped.
The man now lay motionless on the bed. He had blood pouring out of all of his orifices.
I swallowed the saliva that had quickly formed at the sight of his blood.
“SON OF A BITCH!” my father yelled, throwing the clipboard he was holding against the wall. He turned to me. “Clean this up and get him out of here,” he ordered, and then stormed out the door.
I turned the camcorder off and looked toward Big John and Steve. They looked just as shocked as I was after witnessing such a spectacle.
“Come on,” I said. “Let's get this cleaned up.”
“Hey, boss, can we get some of that?” Steve asked, looking at the homeless man.
“No” I replied softly. “His blood is tainted, too dangerous.”
I wrapped the homeless man in the sheet that was on the bed, feeling guilty.
I was nothing like my father. I may be an Eternal, like him, but I respected life, even if it was a human life.