Without warning, the vise around my neck loosened. It wasn’t enough to let me drop to the ground, but I was able to draw in air again. After a few deep breaths, my vision cleared, and I saw Jack staring at me with a mix of bewilderment, anger, and determination. The hand that held me seemed to pulse, squeezing and loosening almost rhythmically. I understood what was happening: flexor and extensor muscles in Jack’s hand were engaging in an epic battle, with the former trying to choke me out and the latter trying to let me go.
Jack’s hand began to tremble with the conflicting effort, which was basically a reflection of the mental battle he must be going through. On the one hand was his desire to kill me; on the other was the fact that his conditioning wouldn’t let him harm Gray, whose face I now wore.
“What is this?” Jack asked. “What have you done to me?”
Despite how dire my situation was, I laughed – right in his face. Jack obviously didn’t know about the psychological barriers his handlers had placed in his head.
My amusement infuriated Jack, and he literally redoubled his efforts to strangle me by placing his other hand around my neck as well. Arms trembling and visibly straining with exertion, he continued trying to throttle me, grunting loudly. As much as he tried, however, his handhold never got any tighter. Finally, after about fifteen seconds of futile struggle, he released me, howling in exasperation.
I landed off-balance and flopped onto my rear. I put a hand up to my neck, gently massaging my throat while at the same time awkwardly scuttling backwards, trying to put some distance between myself and Jack. But it turned out that there was no need to rush, as my doppelganger was momentarily preoccupied.
Jack was staring at his hands in utter confusion, as if he didn’t know what these weird appendages were that happened to be attached to the ends of his arms or where they’d come from. What had just occurred had to be unsettling for him; his body had essentially refused to obey him. It was akin to going to the fridge for a soda, but every time you try to reach for it, your hand grabs the milk instead.
All of a sudden, Jack put his hands to his face, covering his eyes. It was an unexpected move on his part, and ostensibly, it gave the appearance that he was weeping. Somehow, though, I doubted that’s what was happening; in my opinion, my evil twin wasn’t the crying type, and in short order that was shown to be a correct assessment.
After a few moments, Jack removed his hands and I simply stared, not believing what I saw: his eyes were gone. The area where they had been was now featureless, unbroken skin.
At first I thought maybe he’d gouged his eyes out. (After all, he did reach into his own chest to pull out a toxic organ.) Then I realized that what he’d done was shapeshift in order to avoid seeing me since I was still sporting Gray’s face. It gave him the appearance of something out of a horror movie, but would presumably be effective in regard to the conditioning that prevented him from harming Gray.
As if to test that theory, Jack all at once went down to one knee and smacked a fist almost exactly in the spot where he had dropped me, causing tremors to once again shake the building. Seeing what Jack had just done, I almost felt like I was precognitive to some extent, and I sent up a small prayer of thanks that I’d had the presence of mind to move after he let me go.
Once the shaking subsided, I noticed that Jack was still down on one knee. His face was close to the rooftop, and he seemed to be taking slow, deep breaths – as if he couldn’t get enough air – although he only inhaled and exhaled through his nose. Without warning, he stood up and began to methodically turn his head from side to side while appearing to sniff the air at the same time, his actions putting me in mind of a human bloodhound.
Jack looked in my direction and grinned. (“Looked,” however, is probably a misnomer since he didn’t have any eyes. It’s more like he faced my direction and grinned.)
“You know, Jim, you really should have taken me up on that offer to help develop your powers,” he said. He sniffed the air again and – waving an outstretched arm in the air in front of him – took a ponderous step towards me.
“My latest pet project has been enhancing the senses,” Jack went on, sniffing the air as he spoke. “You know – sight, touch, taste, and all that.”
He took another stride in my direction.
“Of course, I’m not using the eyesight right now,” Jack admitted. “And the hearing’s not where I’d like it to be yet. But smell?”
Without preamble, he tilted his head back and drew in a long, exaggerated breath through his nostrils. He embellished the act by simultaneously stretching his arms out to the side. The overall effect was one of a person inhaling a heady ambrosia.
“My sense of smell,” he went on, “is beyond belief. For instance, I can smell your sweat…”
Hand out in front of him again, he put another foot forward. “The blood from the scrapes and bruises you’ve picked up on this rooftop…”
Jack took another step. “Your girlfriend’s perfume from your being next to her…”
He shuffled another foot in a beeline towards me. “The soap you showered with this morning…”
By this time, I was already crabwalking backwards as Jack advanced on me, reciting the long list of things he could smell on me
