I woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Sarah’s voice. She was humming a tune as she shouted at me to get out of bed, and come over to pour myself a mug of coffee. Ten years of being together, and I still couldn’t kiss my wife on the cheek without a groan, and so I always opted to kiss her sweet spot on her nape.
“Good morning, handsome,” she said with a smile.
“Are you really going back to work today? The accident just happened recently feeling today?”
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close, “I’m feeling lucky,” I said. “Lucky to have you in my life.”
She groaned and pushed me away gently. “Don’t get too mushy on me,” she said. “You have to get ready for work.”
Ever since I came back from the hospital, it had been hard to adjust to my new reality. It was like coming out of a thick mist. I blinked and saw a strange yet familiar world. Wires and tubes connected me to machines that beeped and flashed. I felt like a stranger in my own body.
I still have these dreams where I hear what I presume are hospital voices talking about my condition, but I can’t understand them. It’s like being awake, but not alive. Sometimes, I had flashes of memories that didn’t make sense.
It was weird and unsettling experience, that I chalked out to trauma. I tried to tell my girlfriend, but she said it was just a side effect of the trauma. She said I needed time to heal and recover. She said she would always be there for me, no matter what. She was the only person who made me feel normal again.
The accident happened shortly after I decided to quit my job after a heated argument with David, my boss. He blamed me for not meeting our targets and accused me of being incompetent and lazy. I felt hurt and angry, and I knew I had to get out of there. The economy is still in bad shape, and many people were losing their jobs. I didn’t want to be one of them, but I also didn’t want to work for someone who didn’t appreciate me. I had some savings Sarah and I could cushion on…but shortly after the accident
I had hoped talking to David about finding a way to save my neck, with the recent accident would be easy, but we argued, drank, fought, and drank again before reaching a settlement. I found out they still hadn’t managed to fill my spot, and hoped I would return soon, they predicted some looming layoffs in February, but when I got back, I found out that the situation was more dire. People knew they were getting fired, but weren’t sure when. he had moved the regular meeting from Wednesday to Monday.
I immediately found myself thrusted into a surprise meeting, Where David shamelessly got rid of most juniors in my own department as soon as soon as I was brought into the conference hall. but he had also replaced Sarah as the head of our department. He didn’t waste any time in announcing his decision: he was firing most of team, and that left me among the lowest headcount of most other mid-level management guy, and likely the one most at risk of being stuck in a junior position.
I refused to accept David’s decision to cut my team and break our agreement. He had lured me back to the company with promises of autonomy and respect, but now he was acting like a tyrant. I had to confront him and make him change his mind. But as I followed him out of the meeting room, I noticed something strange about his politburo team.
Dotted on their napes were these zippers attached to their necks. It looked ridiculous and creepy. I tried to make a joke about it, but they ignored me and walked in a line behind David like a set of robots, He was colder, more distant, less funny. He seemed to have lost his spark. What was going on? I turned over to some other colleagues whom immediately dispersed, the only person who seemed to care was Morris, and he was just fired and went about his time quickly packing everything on his desk.
‘What’s up with the jewellery everyone’s wearing?’, I asked.
“You should know.” Morris whispered, as he brushed beside me, and paced over to the stairs.
I decided to confront David about the whole atmosphere of the office, after work. I followed him to his car and asked him what was going on, and what happened to what we agreed on last night. He looked at me with a blank expression and said he didn’t know what I was talking about and he hadn’t recollected meeting since last week.
I reminded him, last week I was at the hospital, and that he hadn’t come over. He tried to get in his car, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back. I pointed at his neck and asked him what that was. He shrugged and said it was nothing, just a zipper. He said he had always had it, and that I was being paranoid.
I didn’t believe him. I reached for the zipper, hoping to pull it down and see what was underneath. Maybe it was a prank, or a costume, or a medical device. Maybe there was a logical explanation for all this. But as soon as I touched the zipper, he pushed me away with a force that surprised me. He glared at me and told me to leave him alone.
“What’s going on with you? Were in public.”
“So, what if we’re in public?”, I asked.
“You’ve missed some meetings, come and explain to us what you’ve been doing.”, David said, as he got in his car and drove away, leaving me stunned and hurt.
I didn’t give up on him, though. I knew something was wrong. Sarah was worried I was overstressing myself so soon after leaving the hospital. She said I was acting strange, paranoid, obsessed. She felt a hospital visit would helpful to get a refill on subscriptions from the pharmacy, and a visit to the physician, and get their advice on managing my stress.
After grabbing my medication, I arrived at the physician’s office, and he greeted me with a smile. He was a tall man, with glasses and a white coat. He looked friendly, but I was wary. I scanned his neck for any sign of a zipper, but I didn’t see anything. Maybe he was one of the good ones.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Jones. You must be the one who called me? I’m sorry my receptionist went on short break.” he said.
“Yes, that’s me,” I said.
“Please, come in. Have a seat on the couch. Tell me what’s going on.”
I followed him into his office, and sat down on the bed. He sat across from me, with a clipboard and a pen in his hands.
“So, you’re looking for Razerheads, what’s wrong with your comm link?” he asked.
“What do you mean Razerheads?”, I asked?
“Oh, keeping a low profile? You truly are one of the greatest of our race”, The Physician said.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. “I don’t remember anything like that. I have a family, a job, a life here on Earth. You must be mistaken.”
I felt a surge of pity as he looked at me with confusion and sorrow. “Do you know my name?” he asked softly.
He tried to hold my hand, but I jerked it away. He let out a small cry and then he questioned me about where I had been. I wanted to escape from this nightmare, but he dragged me back and forced me to see the zipper on my neck. I felt a wave of terror as I felt the metallic zipper-head stuck on my nape, and I immediately broke free from his grip and ran out of the room, heading straight to my home.
Sarah would usually come late on Mondays, and so I hoped some painkillers would help me cope with what I had been experiencing throughout the day, I opened my eyes the next morning and saw the empty space next to me. I remembered our fight last night, and how we had yelled and slammed doors. I felt a sense of regret and hoped she was okay. I heard her footsteps in the kitchen and smelled the coffee.
She came back with two mugs and smiled at me. I smiled back, feeling a surge of relief. Maybe we could work things out after all. She set the mugs on the nightstand and went to get some toast. I reached for my coffee and noticed something odd. There was a zipper on her neck, just below her ear. It looked like it was part of her skin, but it wasn’t there before. Who was she?
I jumped out of the bed and grabbed her by the arm. She screamed and tried to pull away, but I was stronger. I dragged her to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind us. I pushed her against the mirror and stared at her face. “Who are you?” I demanded. “What have you done with my wife?” She looked at me with fear and confusion.
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words came out backwards. It sounded like gibberish, but I could tell it was a language. A language I didn’t know. A language she seemed to believe I would know. I reached for the zipper and pulled it down. She shrieked in pain, before I noticeable shivered as the temperature of the room began to chill, the flab of the face revealed a black smog that gravitated into the fixed shape of a human that tried to grab me.
I screamed out, as I ran out of the bathroom, and shut the door behind as I could hear the scream from it from the door, I screamed for Sarah around the home, hoping she would be trapped somewhere I could find her, passing by a mirror I realised the zipper-head was still there. I couldn’t bear the idea, and so I continued searching for Sarah, but the thing in the kitchen began to respond, ‘You’re one of us.’
I’m still unsure of what to do with it, and I’ve turned up the music to avoid hearing it speak; I’m too scared to go back to the bathroom to check if its still there. I can only hope I can find Sarah in time, and really figure out what this zipper behind my neck means.