Terry Porter was plunging out of control; careening down the steepest hill of a roller coaster ride in a cart that had no safety restraints.  Everything in the room had a cold, clinical feel.  The lights were too harsh, making her wish she had kept her sunglasses on.   Everything had sharp, uninviting angles.  Breathing deeply to calm her nerves, she brushed the moist droplets from under her eyes and softly caressed the carbon freeze unit containing her husband.  

     Terry tried to focus on what the doctor was saying, all the while trying to make herself believe that everything was going to be alright.

     “…and as soon as we receive the organs we need, he will be reanimated, rehabilitated and returned to you.”

     Through the frosty glass window she could see his face.  His strong angular cheek bones and square jaw.  The slight bump part way down his nose, the only flaw, a scar from a break a few years earlier.  His perfect, beautiful skin. Although closed, she could still see his bright blue eyes ringed by thick, curly lashes. Mustering a weak smile, she kissed the side of the unit,  took one last look at her husband and pushed through the heavy doors marked 'Exiting Neuro-stasis Unit' .

     The doctor was still droning on.  One long sentence after another that could just as well been spoken in Farsi for all she was getting out of it.  The miracles of modern medicine played in her brain like some freak slide show in slow motion as she drove for home.  It was 2020 and carbon freezing could sustain dead bodies until needed organs or cures could be obtained.  Organ donation had reached it’s peak. Cancer was cured by pills, and AIDS remained in only a few smaller third world countries due to the vaccine discovery in 2010.

     The slide show flickered, becoming darker, slowing further.  Terry could still see James as she had found him that afternoon, crumpled on the kitchen floor in a rusty pool of blood, skull crushed and a knife protruding from his chest.  The coastline views which she would normally find soothing and inspirational didn’t even register as she sped toward home.  Her troubled auto-pilot guided her instinctively through intersections, knowing what turns to take with her thoughts barely present.  Reaching the driveway, she tried to shake the macabre images from her head.   

     She sat in the car for a few moments as she re-lived the horror.  Her return from the grocery store.  Her dead husband.  The full brown bag slipping from her fingers and crashing to the floor.  The egg carton coming open and eggs cracking, yolks mixing with the coagulating blood as she screamed.

****

     Whistling under his breath, he smiled as he watched her pull into the driveway.  She was alone. Of course that came as no real surprise, as he had recently killed her husband. Typically he only killed women, but it had been necessary to get rid of him first so he could get to her.  Such a pretty little thing she was.  Tiny and blonde with a perfect hourglass figure.  Never a single hair out of place.   Had her nails done weekly, the same day as her monthly trip to the tanning salon.  He couldn’t wait to bash her skull in, the spray of blood and gray matter spattering like a Pollock.  His very own masterpiece made from living flesh.  Then he would slowly drive the knife into her chest and think of all those bitches.  

His mother that skanky tramp.  Locking him in the closet while she spread her legs for anything with a penis, in exchange for a carton of cigarettes, more alcohol, a new dress, or her cheap blonde hair dye; never mind that the rent was due or the pantry was practically bare.  His grandmother, always putting him into tubs of near scalding water and scrubbing his skin until it was raw.  “Cleansing” him from the fact he was born of sin. How he wanted to make them twist in agony.  Those stuck up cheerleaders in high school, always laughing at him.

His loins tingled from the intoxicating anticipation.

****

     Dropping the keys onto the sideboard in the hallway, Terry slid out of her shoes.   Taking the gun out of the drawer in the cupboard she stepped into the living room and slid into the over stuffed easy-chair in the corner.   Thus she began her daily ritual of pondering existence and contemplating the end of hers.   It didn’t really matter that they had a heart lined up already and were just waiting on a brain. She knew James just wouldn’t be the same.   Hell, the new brain ensured that.  While they did brief the new brain on the life it was being given, there is only so much that they can do.  But, she thought as she stroked the cold gray metal, if she destroyed her brain too it wouldn’t matter.  The sun faded as she sat holding the gun in contemplation.

****

     As darkness fell, his spirits rose.  Peering past the encroaching black through the window he watched her . This was going to be so easy. All that dumb bitch did since the death of her husband was sit in that damn chair and stare into space. He would be in the house and bashing her skull in before she even realized he was there.   Whistling an upbeat little tune, he surveyed the neighborhood for anyone who might be watching.   Seeing no-one, he dashed to the back of the house. Glancing in the window he could see that the security system was not armed.  The lock on the door was still easy to pick.

****

     The ringing of the phone startled Terry out of her morose daze.  It was Judith, her sister, calling to make sure she was okay and to beg her again to come and stay with her for awhile.  

     “Come on Terry, we have that huge guest suite.  You really shouldn’t be alone.”  

     “I’m fine Jude.”

     “Like hell you are.  You stay at home all the time, hardly answer your phone.  Have you even eaten today?"

    “JESUS! Jude, give me some time.  I WILL be fine,” Terry stated with as much conviction that she could muster, and she wasn’t sure who she was trying to make believe it, Judith or herself.  

     “At least come stay until they catch that psycho, Please.”

     “Really, I am fine.  I feel safe here.  I need to be here.  I feel closer to James here.  Thank you for the offer, really.  I just want to be here."  While she did have fears that the madman would return, she wasn’t going to let him take her home as well.

     While hanging up the phone she heard a strange noise in the kitchen.   She had not put the gun down when she stood to answer the phone so she raised it and aimed in the direction of the sound.  She slowly took a step toward the noise.   A figure of a man came into view.   Terry gasped…

“BANG”

     The first shot caught the man in the chest, and a look of complete surprise played across his face.

“BANG”

    As his left shoulder was hit, the long knife he was holding clattered to the floor.

“BANG”

     Buckling to his knees, he tried to comprehend what was happening.

“BANG”

     He couldn’t really feel any pain.  Just a weird searing sensation.

“BANG”

     His body didn’t seem to be functioning right, and he thought he may have pissed his pants.

“BANG”

     Everything was getting very dark.  Things were not going as planned.  Through the haze, his last conscious thought was “where’d that dumb whore get a gun?”

     Terry had fired six shots without even realizing she was pulling the trigger.  The man made a sick gurgling sound and collapsed.

     The police coming, the coroner, the weeks leading up to the trial, it was all a blur.  Terry was found to have acted in self defense.  There was no doubt really, once forensics confirmed that the mallet was the same one used to bash her husband’s head in.  She let Judith move her in to their home.  She really wasn’t connected enough to put up any resistance.   

     Months later, she was awakened by the ringing phone. She let Judith answer it.  Burrowing down further under the blankets, she squeezed hers eyes shut and flooded her mind with thoughts of James.  Her honeymoon in Belize.  Hiking to Mayan ruins.  Horseback riding along the beach.  Walking hand in hand through the surf at sunset...

     “Terry?  That was the doctor. He said the transplants were successful. The rehabilitation and briefing are going well and they’ll be able to send him home soon,”  Judith’s voice offered hesitantly through the doorway.  Terry smiled weakly and rolled over. She wasn’t sure she was ready to deal with this yet.  Swimming under the waterfall, and splashing each other like kids with crushes; enjoying quiet drinks on the patio, planning their future and gazing up into the stars.   She lost herself in myriads of images and let herself drift back to sleep.

****

     He listened to the doctor drone on and on about what his new life would be like.

     “Let’s refresh, James, the two of you met in college, she was a Sophomore and you were a Junior.  She was majoring in dance until a fall while skiing blew out her knee.  You were majoring in Sociology.  You married two years after graduation and honeymooned in Belize…”

    He really didn’t care about what role he was expected to fill, he was just glad he was alive. He smiled and nodded at the appropriate places.

     “S’cuse me doc, I know you told me before, but this is a lot to take in.  What did you say her favorite flower is,”  it was the least he could do, make her face light up with her favorite flower.

     “No particular favorite, though she would rather receive an artistic arrangement of wildflowers than a bouquet of roses…now in a garden she loves Zin…”

     He went over the important information in his head as the doctors rambled on about flowers and gardens.  How anyone made it out of the office without going comatose was beyond him.

      “Well I think that just about wraps us up Mr. Porter.  You have progressed exceedingly well.  We know it will be difficult, but should you run into any issues in which you feel you need assistance, we have a team of counselors ready and waiting to give you all the aid you and Terry should require.”  He took the map from the doctor,  thanked the staff, and happily made his way home.

****

     Too many thoughts were whirling through Terry’s head.  Will he enjoy great jazz as much as James had?  Would he find the freckle on the nape of her neck adorable?  Would he like the way she wore her hair?  Would he tease her endlessly about her growing number of shoes?  “The Blo-Shoe-b that devoured Cleveland,” as James used to joke.  The urge to laugh uncontrollably hit her as she thought about calling him James 2, like some child giving the same name to each of their successive pet goldfish.  God, she was coming unglued.      

     Terry heard the car pull into the driveway.   Trying to calm the elephant sized butterflies in her stomach she smoothed her dress and took a quick look in the mirror.  Steeling herself for what may lie ahead, she took a deep breath and turned to face the doorway.   Wondering what he would be like, she kept reminding herself that she needed to give this a real chance.  Still, she knew the body would pretty much be the same.  There would be just a few scars really, but his personality, would she love him as much?   Would he still love her?

     Smiling he climbed out of the car, he grabbed the flowers and strolled calmly to the front door.  She was standing just inside the hallway, fragile and unsure, yet eager.  Like a little puppy awaiting reassurance that he had learned the latest trick to his owner’s satisfaction.

     “I thought it may have been awhile since anyone gave you these,” he said as he offered her the flowers.

     At first sight of him holding her favorite flowers she was weak in the knees.  The sound of his voice pulled pools of tears up into the wells of her eyes.   "Thank you," she managed weakly before turning to find a vase.  Trembling she walked toward the kitchen.  The Jazz notes springing to life from the speakers in the living room were not doing well at their attempts to filter into her thoughts and relax her.

     “STOP!”  his tone and firmness startled her.  Before she could turn she felt something hard slam into the back side of her skull and all her thoughts went black.  The spray of blood and gray matter speckled the pale ivory walls like flecks of paint on a virgin canvas.  She crumpled to the ground a pile of flesh and blood and flowers.  He crashed the mallet down again and again in a red frenzy of rage.  Stepping back he admired his creation, electrified, his loins pulsing, his manhood fully erect, this foreplay had been better than the rest.  

     Sliding the knife from it’s sheath he tingled with excitement.  He licked the blade slowly and then plunged it into her chest, pulling it out and thrusting it in over and over again. He didn’t stop until his release had moistened through the crotch of his pants.  Leaving the knife sticking out of her chest like some macabre sundial that would never see the sun, he stepped into the kitchen.  

     The crimson arcs on the steel refrigerator door highlighted his reflection.  His new body wasn't bad.  The words "Lady Killer" came to mind.  He smiled with deep satisfaction.  Yep, his new body looked damn good.  He was going to enjoy his new life.  No more hiding in bushes watching.  He’d date them for awhile and then when they least expect it…

Yes, his new life was going to be ripe indeed.  Relaxed for a moment on the sofa, smoking a cigarette, he admired his masterpiece in the hallway.  Truly his best so far.