Robbie Dorman - Regrowth

“The bed itself is fine,” said Tabby. “It’s just the environment. It’s not normal, no matter how much Shaw tries to make it feel comfortable.”

“Hopefully we won’t be down here forever.”

“I hope not,” said Tabby. “I need the sun again. Vitamin D lights aren’t the same thing.”

“How’s your work coming?” asked Jon.

“It’s fine,” said Tabby. “I think we’re on the edge of a breakthrough, but I’ve felt like that before and nothing ever came. But we’re close to something, even if it’s failure and starting over. You?”

Jon shook his head. “Nothing. Failure after failure.”

“Sorry,” said Tabby.

“It’s okay,” said Jon. “It’s just frustrating. There was always the thought in my head, that if I had more resources, more money, more lab space, an assistant, et cera, that I would get the answers. But now I have that stuff, and still nothing.”

“Your work isn’t easy,” said Tabby. “I can’t imagine all the variables.”

“The supercomputers that Shaw has eliminates a lot of them, but we still can’t crack it. There’s something we’re missing. The magic bullet is there somewhere.”

“Not sure if that’s the best analogy.”

“It’ll have to do.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked you,” said Tabby. “Why limb regeneration?”

“Oh,” said Jon. He took a breath.

“You don’t have to tell me,” said Tabby.

“No,” said Jon, waving her off. “It’s fine. I did it because of Tommy. I—he— we were in an accident. A car accident. He lost his legs, when he was little.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Tabby.

“It’s alright,” said Jon. “I don’t talk about it a lot. I was still trying to figure out what I would do, and then it happened, and I pivoted toward that. It gave me purpose. It gave me drive. Too much, probably.”

“How does he feel about being down here?” asked Tabby.

“Oh, he hates it,” said Jon. “He wants to be up top, with his mom. But she wanted him down here.”

“Did you invite her?” asked Tabby, after a pause.

“I did,” said Jon. “We’re just friends now. No going back. But she’s a nurse, and she’d go insane down here, not being able to help, knowing that people needed it. So she said no.”

“Must be hard on Tommy,” said Tabby.

“It is,” said Jon. “I’ve never been great with him. Even before the accident. But I just want him to be safe.”

“Well, nowhere safer than down here,” said Tabby. “You must have been hungry.”

Jon’s plate was empty.

“It was just that good,” said Jon. He felt his face flush as he finished the wine.

“You want more?” asked Tabby.

“Which?”

“Either,” said Tabby.

“I’ll have another glass of wine,” said Jon.

Tabby downed the rest of her glass and poured them both another, dropping their dishes in the sink.

She raised her glass this time, and Jon met it. “To a better world,” she said.

“Hear hear,” he said. A pleasant buzz filled him. The wine had started its work on him.

“Sorry for being a downer,” said Tabby.

“It’s okay,” said Jon. “It ebbs and flows. We’ll make it through this. We have to.”

Tabby moved around the bar top and sat next to him, her legs pressed up against his. He felt her warmth through the fabric of the pants. Her touch felt nice.

She smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s been nice getting to know you.”

“If I’m honest, you’re usually the highlight of my day,” he said.

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “The time with you is solace from the lab—”

Tabby kissed him then, putting her drink down, her lips softly pressed again his. He kissed her back, their tongues softly touching.

“Sorry,” she said, breaking away.

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” he said.

She kissed him again, and this time he was prepared. They both stood, and she pressed herself against him, and he felt her warmth again, feel her body. His hands went to her hips, holding tight to her, afraid to let go.

She started pulling him to her bedroom.

“Are you sure?” he asked, breathless.

“The world is ending, Jon,” she said, with a sly smile. “I don’t feel like waiting any longer.”

She kissed him again, and pulled him to her bed, and he didn’t resist. Her touch was a welcome respite.

“How many moments in our lives are you going to miss?”

Jon stared at Maya. It was late, later than usual. He had been at the lab for eighteen hours, had gotten there before dawn, and had left after midnight. He would crawl into bed and do the same tomorrow. It had been his routine for months now. His body would occasionally give up and he’d crash for a day, sleeping for sixteen hours straight, but there were no days off. Every day was important if he was going to get the grant, because without the grant he’d be out of a job.

“I told Tommy that we’d do something this weekend,” said Jon, trying to keep his voice down. “He said that’d be fine.”

“He’s nine years old, Jon, and he desperately wants your approval, so of course he said it’d be fine. But you didn’t see him today. All his friends, all giving him presents, and not one of them could break him out of his funk. He was a hound dog all day because you weren’t there. One day, one day out of hundreds, and you couldn’t be there.”

Jon tried to speak, but instead of saying something hurtful, he shook his head and turned around. He turned back.

“I’m doing this all for him,” said Jon.

“Are you?” asked Maya. Jon remembered the look in her eyes at this moment. It would be there, every time he didn’t want to remember what had happened to his marriage, how the woman he loved had finally had enough, when he tried to sleep in a bed alone every night for months, but he couldn’t fall asleep because all he saw was that expression in her eyes. A look of disbelief, of exhaustion, of betrayal. It was his wife’s resolve finally breaking.

“Yes, of course I am,” said Jon.

“No, you’re not,” she said. “Tommy is fine. He’s happy. He’s a smart kid, with a lot of friends. His life is fine. You’re doing it for you .”

“I’m working myself to the bone, Maya,” he said, his voice was louder now, and soon, soon Tommy would come into the room, and ask what was wrong, and the argument would end without resolution, but the cracks had formed, and no matter what they did, they couldn’t be patched after that.

“For what?” asked Maya. “For what? For Tommy? Because he just wants to spend time with his dad. He doesn’t want new legs. He just wants to see you. If you need to help him, stop this. Slow down. Forgive yourself!”

He gritted his teeth, feeling himself on the verge of tears, his face hot. He wanted to scream and yell, but then Tommy came in, just like Jon remembered, but he wasn’t in his wheelchair, he was walking.

What? That’s impossible.

Tommy stood in the shadow of the doorway, obscured by darkness, but there was no wheelchair there.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and he stepped into the dim light of the bedroom, and oh god, something was wrong.

He stood on inhuman legs, distended bone and muscle, bloated, twitching, bleeding from their inhumanity. They weren’t meant to be, they couldn’t work, muscles didn’t work like that, but they did here, and Tommy walked in on them, somehow.

“I’m wrong, daddy,” said Tommy, his voice no longer his, his voice mutating, just like the rest of him, his whole body contorting, growing, distending, muscles bursting through the skin, growing, growing, growing