IT

Hey guys

This is just the beginning of a short story I've been working on. Let me know what you think of it and any ideas on where to go from here would be appreciated and taken into serious consideration!


Chapter 1:

IT didn’t know where it was. IT didn’t know what it was. It didn’t know who the men in white coats were surrounding the table, nor why it was strapped to the table, or much of anything, really. But what IT did know was that it wanted a drink of water.

IT decided that being strapped to a table was overrated, so it merely sat up, breaking the magnetically-sealed steel reinforced bands holding it like so many daisy chains. For some reason, all the…doctors, yes, that’s what they were, were yelling and screaming like mad. Perhaps they were in danger. But what could possibly threaten them in this….laboratory? Laboratory? Odd, it seemed like doctors should be in hospitals, not laboratories, thought IT.

Its thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an overwhelming pain in its…what was the word….oh yes, there it is: shoulder. Upon closer scrutiny, IT realized there was a tube inserted into its arm. In fact, there were several tubes, connected all over his body…wait a minute…his body. Well, no need for these, he thought, pulling them out of his arm. It hurt for a few seconds, but then the pain strangely vanished. He looked again and saw that his arm didn’t have any marks on it whatsoever; not even a small speck like when he got his smallpox shot.

Well, that’s…odd. I need a drink of water…

In the middle of the lab’s mayhem, he paused for a minute, just to review what he knew so far: 1) He was a he (somehow that seemed reassuring). 2) He was a thirsty “he.” 3) He was in a lab. 4) He was surrounded by doctors who seemed to be in danger. 5) Doctors belonged in hospitals, not laboratories. 6) He could apparently heal rapidly.  Lastly, 7) He had had smallpox shot at some point in his life.  A good beginning, he concluded. Men have started with less. Ah, 8) He was a man. At this rate, he shouldn’t have anything to worry about.

After concluding his list, IT (for he didn’t know what else to call himself) began to ponder the great questions of life: Who am I? Where did I come from? What am I? Granted, the last usually isn’t a great wonder to a great many people, but you’d be surprised. Maybe I can ask one of these doctors…they’ll surely know.

IT turned towards the nearest doctor and said politely, “Excuse me, but could you tell me what I am?” as nonchalantly as if you or I were asking for directions home. For some reason, the doctor only went white with sheer terror and in his haste to find the nearest exit, slipped on the liquid spilling on the floor from the IVs IT had taken out of his arm.  IT bent down to help the poor man and because the man seemed to be trying desperately to crawl away, grabbed the easiest thing available: the back of his collar. With no more effort than flicking a fly, IT lifted the man bodily off the floor with one arm and stood him on his feet. The man ceased screaming and merely stared at this seemingly Superman-like person holding him a foot off the ground. IT thought this was rather strange (when good manners dictated that the man should thank him) when suddenly an epiphany stuck him: Are they’re scared of me?

At precisely the wrong moment, while IT was holding a terrified doctor at arms length, men in green coats with… something… came rushing into the room. IT wondered what they were pointing at him for about half a second before realizing they were guns. Not only that, but in all probability, loaded guns.

For some inexplicable reason, in IT’s mind, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Bullets came out of the end of the barrels in a slow-motion flash of flame, coming in his direction. Without thinking, IT flew under the table, feeling the still slow-moving bullets whiz over his head. He came up three feet in front of the first man, who still had his gun pointed at where IT had been.

I’m moving faster than they can react, thought IT. Time hasn’t slowed down…I’m just speeding up…but how?

 IT grabbed the man’s hand, delivered a spin-kick to the small of his back, grabbed the gun as it fell to the floor without even looking, then pistol-whipped the guard. How did I do that? It asked himself, but had no time to answer – the second attacker was now dropping to one knee, spinning to face this new threat. As he watched the bullet come towards him in slow motion again, IT flipped backwards, letting the bullet travel under him and kicking the second gunman at the same time. This time he didn’t even ask himself how he did it. He was kind of beginning to take things in stride.

What now? IT looked at the two handguns he had taken from the …who were they…oh yes…guards. This is a Berretta 92F…accurate close-range weapon… And this is a Smith and Wesson model 5906… 9mm caliber…and I have no earthly idea how I know that… Why am I so thirsty?

By now, the room was empty, except for the bodies of the unconscious guards on the floor. Well, I might as well leave as stay here, IT decided, walking out of the room into the wide, white hall outside. Upon leaving the room, he noticed a plaque on the side of the door – “Biogenetics Computing Lab.”

Odd.