I'm revolting, and appalling, and…and just plain gross! Don't tell me I don't reek.'
'I won't tell you that.'
'I just…I don't…I don't get it. Why me? Why bring me back as a rotting monster?'
'Something about your DNA mixing with the chemicals. They said it was very complicated.'
'You've got to get me out of here, Martin,' said Stanley. 'I'll go live in a cave or something. I can't stay here and let them do experiments and stuff on me for the rest of my life. You know what, I don't even know if I can die again. Can I?'
'I'm not sure.'
'Something to look into. But I have to get out of this place. You can help me, right?'
Martin was silent for a long moment. 'I think you need to trust these people. They brought you back from the dead, and they have only your best interests in mind.'
'My best interest? The son of a bitch strapped me to the bed, left me in the dark, and told me my body was gonna turn into gook!'
'That's only if you don't get your injections.'
'The guy's a sadist. You've got to help me, Martin. I need you.'
'I'll be here for you, sir. I'm staying in the bunker. I promise I won't let them hurt you.'
'But I-'
'I promise I won't let them hurt you,' Martin repeated, looking Stanley in the eye.
Stanley relaxed. 'Okay.'
'I'm going to go now,' Martin said. 'Oh, here, this is for you.' He handed Stanley the glass of water. 'You're supposed to just lie down. If you get plenty of rest, by tomorrow you should be feeling fine.'
Stanley nodded. 'If you say so.'
'I'll send your parents in, all right?'
'No. They can't see me like this.'
'Sir, they've seen your body.'
'I don't care what they've seen. I can't let them see me like this. Tell them to go home.'
'They'll be disappointed.'
'Better disappointed than terrified.'
'All right,' said Martin. 'If you change your mind, you can press the button. It's good to see you again, sir. Things will be fine. You'll see.'
'Uh-huh.'
'Really.'
'Whatever.'
Martin looked as if he wanted to give Stanley a hug, but then changed his mind and left.
Stanley drank the entire glass of water in one gulp, except for what dribbled out of a small hole in his lower lip. He set the glass on the nightstand and then lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes. He'd never had a waterbed before. It was kind of nice. And the pink blanket was undeniably soft and comfortable. Maybe Martin was right. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad.
He lay there silently for a long while, and then fell asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
Stanley woke up feeling…good. At least in a physical sense. There was no trace of the pain from before, and no wave of dizziness when he got out of bed. He almost felt like doing some jumping jacks, but still wasn't entirely convinced that useful bits of flesh wouldn't fly off in the process.
'Ah, I'm glad to see you're up,' said Brant, entering the room.
'Uh-huh, I'm sure you just happened to walk in here right as I got out of bed.'
Brant smiled. 'Well, of course we're monitoring you. You're a scientific phenomenon.'
'Yeah, well, knock next time, asshole.'
'We really do have to do something about that mouth of yours. Perhaps a swear jar is in order.'
'Sure. Every time I say 'fuck' I'll drop a finger in it.'
'No need to be morbid.' Brant walked across the room and opened the closet door. 'Some of these are your own clothes, and some are new. Put on whatever you'd like.'
'Aren't you going to dress me?'
'Maybe later.' He opened another door. 'You have your own private bathroom, of course, with a shower. The cast is completely waterproof. Your, ah, scent should fade in a day or so, but until then you're welcome to be generous with the cologne you'll find in the medicine cabinet.'
'Thanks.'
'So, get ready, and then we'll head down for breakfast. You haven't eaten anything except intravenous fluids for two months, so I assume you're hungry.'
'Yeah, I had myself a hankering for some brrrraaaaaaaains.'
'Very amusing. Anyway, enjoy your shower, and I'll be back to walk you downstairs.'
'Is it, y'know, safe?' Stanley asked.
'Is what safe?'
'The shower.'
'Oh, certainly. Make it as hot as you'd like. We gave you your injection about three hours ago, so there's no danger of you going down the drain.'
After Brant left, Stanley walked into the bathroom, stumbling a couple of times because of the cast. He opened the medicine cabinet and quickly scanned the contents. Nothing that could be used as a weapon, but he did have a nice large box of Q-Tips. He wondered how much earwax a living corpse produced.
He turned on the water. He stared in the mirror for a long moment, still horrified by his almost skeletal face. More importantly, though, he was really dreading what he might see when he removed his boxer shorts.
Please, all deities within hearing range, I beg of you, don't let me have a decomposed dick. Just spare me that one appendage and I'll be your slave for all eternity.
He stripped off his boxers. The most positive thing he could say about his penis was that it was still attached.
It wasn't like he'd ever be getting laid again anyway, but the process of decomposition could've been kind enough to spare his dick. Would that really have been so much to ask?
Stanley flipped up the toilet lid and took a long piss, terrified that he might spring a leak and hit himself in the eye. But at least his equipment seemed to be functioning fine.
He got in the shower. The hot water felt wonderful against his skin. He lathered himself up, tentatively at first, but Brant seemed to be right, no flesh was detaching. He stayed in there for about fifteen minutes, until the hot water ran out while he still had shampoo in his hair. He cursed and rinsed it out in the cold water, then grabbed a towel and dried himself off.
He brushed his teeth, trying not to gag as some foamy toothpaste leaked through the hole in his chin. He wiped off his mouth and noted that he didn't need to shave. He wondered if this meant that the hair on his head had stopped growing, too.
He returned to the bedroom and put on fresh underwear and white socks, then dressed in a pair of his own jeans and an unfamiliar orange polo shirt. He returned to the bathroom, combed his hair, and then stepped back in the bedroom just as Brant was entering.
'What did I tell you about knocking?' Stanley asked.
'My apologies.'
'Were you spying on me in the shower? Pity about my dick, huh?'
'Are you ready for breakfast?'
'Sure. I'm always up for a good old bowl of Corpse-O's.'
They left the room, walking into a barren, sterile white hallway. 'So where are we?' Stanley asked.
'About one hundred feet underground,' said Brant.
