Sci Fi Flash fiction

‘Exemplum’ by Stewart Storrar

She watched the needle pierce into her husband’s arm. He was completely out cold. The needle penetrated his skin, every inch of it sinking deeper into his flesh until its tip reached a vein. At which point, she heard a low hum from the machine and the needle’s siphon lead. Gently and gradually, the pump began the process of extracting blood from her significant other. She watched as the transparent siphon tube filled with the crimson dye of blood. She scanned her eyes over her husband’s body before turning back to her magazine.

The alarms blared. His feet slapped against the cold stone floor. His breath was drawn in quick, staggered lungfuls. He could feel the adrenaline pulsate through his veins. He could feel the blisters forming on the soles of his feet. His eyes watered with pain and his body ached to the bone. Yet, despite all this, he pushed on.

She glanced up from her magazine in response to the machine. She observed all the blinking lights and holo-displays that offered her screeds of information; all of which were useless to her. The machine’s hum intensified, gradually increasing in volume for a moment. It then made a mechanical clunk, followed by a hiss. She glanced over to her husband, now with a somewhat pale complexion. As the Doctor came over to tend to the machine, she turned back to reading her paragraph.

He pushed on down the remainder of the current corridor to reach its end. He risked a quick glance back down behind him. He found nothing but an empty corridor accompanied by flickering, artificial strip lights. He took a few more laboured lungfuls of air before looking off down the next corridor. A mixed expression of pain and disbelief crumpled his face as his eyeline scanned the vast, motionless scape of white. The corridor was long. So long that his vision began to play tricks on him in the swirl of white mist and gleam of blaring sirens. He could not see its end.

Yet, despite all this, he pushed on.

The machine let out a softer, longer hiss this time. She glanced back up from her magazine with a somewhat irritated expression. The Doctor was positioned next to her, releasing a small lever on the device that connected the needle to the siphon lead. The lead detached. The Doctor detached the lead from the machine in a similar fashion, disposing of it in a container labelled ‘Bio-Waste’. The Doctor removed the needle, dropping it into this container also. The woman watched the container, with the machine, get wheeled out. She glanced at the pale body of her husband, then turned back to her magazine.

He pushed on down the corridor. His feet were a burning, throbbing mess of torn flesh and blood. He could feel his sticky, painful skin leave behind footprints of blood as he raced down the corridor’s length. He was running as fast as his feet were able to carry him but, somehow, it never felt like he was running fast enough. He felt like a lost child, forever searching for a parent he would never know. Somehow, he knew he was doomed.

Yet, despite all this, he pushed on.

The Doctor turned to face her. She carefully reached up and folded the edge of the magazine’s page before closing it, then stood from her chair. Without a word exchanged, the Doctor left the room with her in trail. They left the room into a long, white corridor. They walked several meters and entered another room. The Doctor closed the door behind her and before he could gesture to the seat, she had already taken it. She gave a quick glance through the one-way mirror into a different segment of the same room. With a slight nod, she opened her magazine and continued reading.

He began to see the end of the corridor now. It was just a corridor but it felt like the end of some great voyage; a relief almost. It was a brief relief from the unshakable feeling of impending doom that loomed over him like a distant storm cloud. He could feel a burning in his chest now. A burning that cramped his lungs and stung his windpipe. It made every breath he drew an effort. A pain.

Yet, despite all this, he pushed on.

The Doctor tapped the woman on the shoulder. She glanced up with an angered expression,

“What?”

“The incubation process is complete ma’am. We are ready for first contact,” the Doctor said. She tutted and with a nod, stood from the seat. She was led to the other side of the one-way mirror. There, in the centre of the room, an incubation chamber was found. The Doctor pushed a button and the chamber door slid open. With a hiss of water vapor dispersing into the room, the woman looked down at the face of her new husband. He blinked open his eyes, staring back up at her. Before anyone could say anything, he sprung from the chamber. He knocked her out the way and left, running out through the unlocked door. It wasn’t long before an alarm started blaring.

He turned the corner at the end of the impossibly long corridor to be faced down with a gun. Before he could do anything, a shot echoed through the lab. His lifeless body slumped to the stone floor. His head slammed into the ground with the chilling sound of bone cracking. A figured suited in bio-hazard suit stood over the lifeless body. After a moment or two, the Doctor and the woman arrived. They both glared at the body. The woman turned to the Doctor and spoke with a calm tone,

“Is this a common occurrence?”

“No, not in our clones, ma’am.”

“I expect a new copy.”

“Of course ma’am, right this way,” the Doctor muttered, gesturing back down the corridor. The woman stepped over the body, magazine in hand, to follow the Doctor down the corridor.

About This Sci Fi Flash Fiction

We hope you enjoyed Exemplum! This sci fi horror was brought to you by Stewart Storrar, a Scottish writer and filmmaker from Glasgow, Scotland. Be sure to check out Lore’s Twitter profile here for new releases and check out Stewart’s own Twitter profile here.

This sci fi horror, Exemplum, was originally published on Lore Publication’s Medium page Lore Fiction on April 2nd 2018 and was ported to Lore Publication’s website in 2022.

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