Groggy with a dull ache in his back, Eric opened his eyes and tried sit up, but found himself unable to move more than a few inches. Damn that hurt.

Moving a bit revealed that his arms, legs, and chest were restrained with thick leather straps, holding him tight to a medical gurney. Even his head had a strap limiting its range of motion and preventing him from seeing the full room around him. What little he could see did not look encouraging.

Directly above, a helmet-like device hung from the ceiling with several data-cables coming out of it. The wires were tied together in a bundle as they went up into the drop-tile ceiling. A similar bundle of cables reappeared on the far wall where they connected to a large display screen and a series of machines he didn't recognize.

To his left stood a long medical table. Most of its contents were covered by white sheets, but the items he could see looked rather ordinary for a hospital setting—stethoscopes, pill bottles and other medical tools. At the far end of the table, a laptop sat open. Beyond all that, a pair of double doors.

To his right… Eric startled upon realizing what he was seeing. Johnson lay on a gurney similar to the one he was on, hooked up to a life support machine. Another helmet device hung from cables in the ceiling, already fitted onto Johnson’s head, indicator lights pulsing in rhythm with the heartbeat monitor nearby. Johnson’s wounds were still bloody and unbandaged.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a dry, raspy voice surprised him from behind. An old, thin man walked up beside him—wrinkled skin, thick glasses, and a white lab coat with The Humanity Reclamation Agency logo on the right shoulder.

“Doc? Who are you? Where am I?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about any of that. I just need a minute to finish preparing my tools then we’ll get started.” The doctor gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, headed for the door but then stopped abruptly. “But since you’re awake, I suppose we can let the computers do their thing.”

The doctor stepped on a foot pedal, triggering a mechanism below the gurney. It tilted Eric almost to a standing position, enough so that he could see the old man at eye level.

“Now, try to relax. This won’t hurt a bit.” The man reached up and pulled the helmet down, roughly shoving it onto Eric’s head.

Eric heard the distinct click of a button, followed by the sound of several computers coming to life. Large areas of his head began to tingle in waves as low voltage electric pulsed through his skin. “What is this thing? Why are you doing this?”

“The machine is scanning and sorting your memories before we do the procedure. It won’t harm you in any way, I promise.”

“A memory scan? Is that even possible?”

Rolling his eyes, the old man shuffled out of sight while mumbling to himself. Eric’s mind spun in confusion, unsure if it was a good thing or not that he’d been brought here. He had no desire to face the regular police after what he’d done but, somehow, being helpless and at the mercy of this old doctor felt even worse.

Apparently finished with whatever he’d been doing, the doctor returned to the laptop. “Well then, now we can get started. Shall we?”

“Wha- What do you intend to do to me?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s nothing we haven't done before.” The old man droned on as he typed something into the laptop. “You did quite a number on Mr Johnson so he will take a bit longer, but by the time he leaves here, you’ll both be fine. We’ll take care of him. It’s what we do.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Why?” The old man seemed surprised. “Because you killed him. That’s-”

“Killed?” His heart pounded as he heard the word. “You said he was fine!”

“No need to be so loud! And I said he will be fine by the time we’re done with him. Same as you.”

Eric froze as he picked up on the particular way the doctor phrased it. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

The doctor let out a long annoyed sigh. “Questions! Questions! So many questions! And always the same ones!” He pulled back the white cloth on the side table, revealing several syringes, scalpels, bone saws, an electric drill and a variety of other ominous tools. “You’d think that after having done this three or four times already, you’d react a little differently.” He picked up a syringe with a blue liquid, popped off the plastic needle protector and approached Eric.

“No, wait! Whatever that is, I don’t want it!” Eric struggled against the restraints but couldn’t even shift side to side. He could barely wiggle at all. “Don’t-”

“Oh, hush!” The doctor jabbed the needle between Eric’s ribs without mercy, as deep as it would go.

A heavy tingling sensation started in his toes and fingertips, then crawled up Eric’s arms and legs as it closed in on his torso. Everywhere the tingling went, complete numbness followed soon after. He could still think clearly, but his sense of touch and muscle control were gone. Even his head would have hung limp if not for the leather strap holding him in place.

Back at the laptop, the doctor typed something. “As I was saying, by tonight you and Mr. Johnson will both be home, safe and sound. No one will ever know what happened. And it looks like your memories are intact so let’s do what needs to be done.”

A display screen on the far wall lit up, showing a series of distorted images. Eric had a vague sense of deja-vu as he saw them. One showed his conversation with Abigale from that morning. Another was him following Johnson into the alley. The screen continued to flicker between recent memories until it stopped at an image of the barrels falling towards him from above.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“So, it seems like everything began about three hours ago…” The old man mumbled. “Oh, yes. I can see why you might be upset with him. If those had landed on your head, even I wouldn’t be able to save you.” The doctor hit a button, and everything after the accident faded to static. “Not to worry. We’re going to replace those nasty memories with something far more mundane.”

Replace? He’d intended to ask the question out loud, but the numbness had spread to his face making it impossible to speak properly. Instead, his only utterance was an inquisitive grunt followed by a trickle of drool.

The sound of typing and mouse clicks continued as the static transformed into images of a normal medical office, a prescription slip, a pharmacy and Eric receiving pills. “There, that should work. You felt sick during your lunch break, went to a doctor, and took the rest of the day off. Your replacement will never suspect a thing.”

What the hell are you talking about?! And what do you mean by ‘replacement’?

The old man stepped on a foot pedal below the gurney causing Eric to turn and face the back wall of the room. Eric suddenly felt grateful for the numbing injection he’d been given – it was probably the only reason he didn't vomit at the sight in front of him. Several tall glass fluid tanks were built into the wall, each containing a featureless, hairless body. Their skin seemed transparent, allowing a blurred view of the internal organs. Some were male, others female, of various sizes and body builds. Each one appeared to be connected to a life support system and wore a helmet device similar to the one the doctor had placed on him.

A slight pinch in his side caused Eric to glance down to see the source. The old doctor had stuck him in the hip with a long, fat needle. Based on a medical show he’d seen, Eric guessed the red and yellow mixture being extracted was bone marrow.

Once the syringe had filled to capacity, the doctor inserted the vial into a receptor on the life support system of one of the blank bodies. Then he retrieved two other vials from the table, green and orange, and injected them as well. The tubes inside the tank flowed with the red and yellow bone marrow, gradually mixing with the blue and orange chemicals. As soon as they fed into the body, its featureless appearance began to change.

The transparent skin grew thicker and gained color. Brown hair began to grow from the scalp and chin, visibly longer with each passing second. Its muscles expanded, skin texture solidified, and several burn scars appeared on its arms. Eric felt like he was watching a horror movie as the body in the tank transformed into a near perfect replica of him.

“And now the memories.”

The helmet attached to the body’s head lit up, pulsing in rhythm with the life support machines nearby.

“Are you almost done?” A young nurse asked, arriving through the double doorway.

The doctor seemed surprised by the interruption. “What? Oh yes, perfect timing. I’ve just finished. You can take him.”

Strolling into the room like she’d seen it all a thousand times, she pulled the helmet off Eric’s head, readjusted the gurney so he was reclined again, and pushed him towards the double doors. The sound of plastic wheels rolling over a tiled floor made it hard for Eric to hear anything as she moved him into a long hallway. He tried to say something, to protest, to argue, to demand a lawyer. But despite his best efforts, his mouth never managed more than a whisper and drool.

“Don’t worry, sir.” She droned, the words sounding like an old habitual phrase that came more from habit than any actual decision on her part. “I’ll take care of you. It’s what we do here.”

Several turns later, she rolled him through another pair of double doors marked ‘morgue’. Inside, a man glanced up from a clipboard and perked up as he saw the nurse arrive. His ID tag marked him as the mortician’s assistant. “Another one?”

The nurse nodded.

“Awesome!”

The assistant answered far too eagerly, moving to make room for the gurney. The nurse wheeled Eric over to a short conveyor belt that led straight into a bulky machine, its entrance blocked by a steel slide gate. Whatever it was, Eric felt far more concerned by the fact that she had taken him into a morgue. I’m not dead yet!

Deciding it was time to get the hell out of there, Eric steeled himself for action and waited for his opportune moment. As the nurse and mortician’s assistant began unbuckling the leather straps that held him to the gurney, Eric figured his opportunity would be soon. The biggest delay seemed to be the mortician’s assistant, as he repeatedly fumbled the buckles while stealing glances at the nurse.

“So, ah, what’cha doing Saturday night?”

Eric rolled his eyes at the boy’s pathetic lead in, wishing they would hurry up so he could escape.

“Not you,” she answered with a glare and unbuckled the final strap.

Eric used every ounce of willpower he had, commanding his body to spring into action. He felt the surge of his blood pressure and the adrenaline that came with it, but his body never actually moved. It simply lay there, barely twitching a finger. The nurse and the assistant hadn't even seemed to notice his attempt. It took a combined full body effort from them to roll him off the medical gurney and onto a slab of cardboard on the conveyor belt. As soon as they had him re-positioned, the nurse gave a lazy salute and sauntered out.

“Damn!” The kid commented. “Eventually, she’ll come around. As for you, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll take good care of you. It’s what we do here.”

He pulled a lever, opening the slide gate to the machine’s main chamber. An intense fiery light shone from inside as Eric felt the heat wash over him. The smell of old burnt flesh soon followed. The assistant flipped a switch and the conveyor began moving him towards the opening, feet first. Eric’s previous efforts to make himself move were nothing compared to motivation and willpower he now possessed. But even as his feet began to steam and blister, his body still refused to move.

Wait! I have a family! I don’t deserve this! Help-

***

“…hey, wake up!”

Eric blinked away the sleep in his eyes, his mind slow and groggy as he managing to piece together his surroundings. He was in the back seat of a taxi.

“This is the address you wanted, right?” The driver insisted, sounding impatient.

Eric recognized the steps leading to the door of his apartment but struggled to remember how he’d gotten here. He vaguely recalled something serious happening at work but not what it was, leaving on an early lunch break, feeling sick, and going to see a doctor. But after filling his prescription at the pharmacy he couldn’t remember anything else. The apartment building was definitely where he lived but something felt wrong.

“Don’t forget your bag, man.” The driver pointed to a small, white paper bag laying in the seat next to him. The pharmacy logo seemed familiar. Eric picked it up, got out and paid the driver. But as he shuffled towards the front door something nagged at him from the recesses of his mind, as if he was missing something important.

My tools! Eric realized. He’d never gone back to work to get hem. Oh well, they’ll still be there tomorrow.

Opening the apartment door, he stepped inside and saw his daughter’s schoolbook lying open on the couch. Jess lay sprawled out next to it, as if she’d fallen asleep while reading. He closed the door quietly and tiptoed into the kitchen. There, he opened the pharmacy bag and found a bottle of pills. The label read, “For headaches. Take two pills as needed.”

The subtle creak of a floorboard caught his attention just before the familiar voice did.

“You’re home early!” Abigale whispered in an excited voice, her infectious smile and the look in her eyes reminding him of their conversation from that morning. “Don’t tell me you’re too tired again.”

Out of habit, he almost said that he was. But to his surprise he didn't feel tired at all, more like he’d just woken up from an extra long nap. He smiled at his wife, slipped a hand around her waist and quietly led the way to the bedroom to avoid waking Jess.