Dragon Dreams

by Chris A. Jackson

  "Fine with me. I'll meet you in your lab first thing."

  "Good."

  "Okay, so about this mystery DNA; you didn't get any matches for any of the segments we've cloned?" Hutch seemed to be talking more to Bob than her, even though this was technically her project. She hoped he wasn't going to treat her like a plague carrier because of the other night.

  "Nothing near a match we can use for any kind of relatedness. It has more similarities to primate than anything else."

  "Primate?" A memory clicked in Aleksi's mind. "You said that canine looked like macaque or baboon."

  "Yes, I did." Hutch ate more of his vegie burger and still wouldn't look at her. "If the human DNA is from the sample, not contamination, we might be looking at a human with a domesticated primate. It wouldn't be the first instance of comingled remains being misinterpreted."

  "But primate DNA's pretty close to human." Aleksi picked up another chicken wing and stripped the meat off the bone. "Most species are in Genbank. We should have seen a match."

  "I don't know." Hutch shook his head and looked at his watch. "Damn. Look, I'm sorry, but I've got to get going." He took another bite of his sandwich and chased it with coffee as he got up. "You two talk this over and shoot me any questions by email. Sorry about the hit and run." He left a twenty on the table and hurried for the door.

  "What the hell's up with that?" Bob watched Hutch leave with a furrowed brow. "I've never seen him do that before."

  "I don't know." But she did. She'd ruined everything and didn't know how to fix it.

  The sampling went off without a hitch, video recording and all. They excavated down to an area of the cast proximal to the already exposed jaw, and Aleksi brought out a low speed drill and bored a hole in the ash layer. When it punched through, a fine gold-hued dust came out with the bit.

  "What do you think that stuff is?" She put the drill aside and picked up a long core sampler.

  "No clue. It looks crystalline, like pyrite. It was in the other sample, too, and it seemed to dissolve in EDTA." Bob recorded her putting the long sampler into the hole and withdrawing it, careful not to touch either the edges of the hole or anything else before she tipped the contents—a course dust of grey and gold flecks with a few bits of white and black—into a plastic tube. "That looks exactly the same as the first sample."

  "Well, let's hope it is." She labeled the tube, put it in a double sealed baggie and he turned off the recorder. "Okay, molecular man, there's your sample. You need help with the video for the extraction?"

  "No, I'll set up a tripod. But thanks." He put the bag in another plain Ziplock and put that in a plastic carry case. "I'll get on this this afternoon and have it in PCR tomorrow."

  "Great." She escorted him out of the dust barrier. "Have fun tonight."

  "I will, thanks." He doffed his mask, revealing a grin beneath. "Julie's pretty cool. I like her a lot. She knows more about movies than anyone I know."

  "Drama student." She smiled at him, relieved to see him at ease with the whole thing. "Just don't break her heart, okay?"

  "No worries about that. I still think she's out of my league, but she's fun to hang with."

  "Well, have fun, then." She gave him a wave. "And be careful with that sample!"

  He gave her a wave and left the lab with another grin.

  19

  She is chasing him through the snowy Harvard campus. He looks back at her with terror-filled eyes, and she can hear his heart hammering in his chest. She could catch him easily but enjoys the chase. He dodges through the door to the MCZ lab building, and she follows, but finds that she has chased him into her bedroom.

  "Please, Aleksi!" His voice trembles with fear. "Don't kill me! I won't hurt you."

  She tries to speak but can't. Why would she kill him? But he's already hurt her. She reaches for him, and he flinches, backing away. His legs hit her bed and he falls upon it.

  Perfect…

  She's on him in a flash, skin on skin. She closes her eyes in bliss. There is a flash of that urge to lash out, to feed. A warm coppery taste floods her mouth. She swallows and has a vision of a thick slab of meat on a plate. She opens her eyes, and Hutch lies beneath her, his chest flayed open, hollow, eyes vacant. Blood drips from her hands, from her chin, and she bends down to feast.

  Laughter interrupts her meal and she looks up to see Derrick standing beside the bed, looking at her with that perfect smile. He laughs with those perfect white teeth, and she looks down into Hutch's dead face, realizing what she's done.

  Aleksi jerked awake, the dream so vivid she could taste the gobbets of warm flesh sliding down her throat—Hutch's flesh. Nausea welled up. She flung off the blankets, lurched out of bed, and dashed for the bathroom. She made it to the toilet in time to heave the contents of her stomach into the bowl. The memory rose again, and she heaved dryly, tears streaming from her eyes.

  When the nausea finally abated, Aleksi sat there sweating and shaking. After a minute, she flushed the toilet and washed her face in the sink, rinsing her mouth. She dried with a towel and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, eyes red and itching like she'd walked through a dust storm. She wondered if she was having some kind of allergic reaction, or maybe food poisoning. That would explain the nausea. Although now, with the dream memory receding, she wasn't nauseous and even felt hungry. She rubbed her eyes again and looked closer at her reflection.

  "What the…" She blinked and looked again. Her usually blue-gray irises seemed different, almost hazel in color. She rubbed them again. "Jaundice?" She tried to think of what would cause such a thing. Hepatitis? She didn't know much medicine, but thought that affected the whites of the eyes, not the iris.

  "This is not what I need right now!" She went back to her bedroom and glanced at the clock: four thirty in the morning. She knew it would be useless to try to go back to sleep, so she threw on a robe and went out to get some reading done.

  She made coffee and turned on her computer, trying not to make too much noise. She had gone to bed before Julie got home the night before and didn't want to wake her. That thought brought a smile, then a flood of worry for both Julie and Bob. They seemed happy, but what if it went bad? Would they both blame her?

  She realized she was pacing the kitchen and clenched her fists. She felt like she was having a panic attack, but not like the ones she was used to. She clenched her hands harder, willing herself to calm. She felt a sharp bite of her nails and looked down at the bleeding cuts in the palms of her hands.

  "Holy…" Aleksi hurried to the sink and turned on the water. She rinsed her hands and peered at the four tiny cuts in each palm. She'd never had nails long enough to scratch anything. They got in the way and she tended to bite them short. Now they were longer than she'd ever seen them, with a slight yellowish hue at the cuticle. She grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at the shallow cuts, but the bleeding had already stopped. The pain was gone.

  The coffee maker burbled, distracting her. She grabbed her favorite cup, filled it, opened the fridge for milk, and grabbed a few slices of the roast beef she'd bought at the deli the previous day. Wolfing them down and chasing the meat with a sip of coffee, she felt the strange panic attack subside. She looked again at her hands, but the cuts were now just tiny lines. She wondered if she had imagined the blood. The paper towel was still beside the sink, but there was no blood on it, and no sign of blood in the sink.

  "What the hell? Now I'm hallucinating?"

  She sat down with her coffee and tried to read, but the words on the screen couldn't compete with the worry clouding her mind. She needed to do something, to talk to someone, to get some advice or help, but she didn't have anyone. Then, with a tingle of warmth centering in her stomach, she thought that maybe she did.

  Malkin gym, where Hutch worked out every morning, opened at six, and Aleksi was at the door at ten past. The place was busy. She had no idea so many people were so health conscious, up before the sun every morning, sweating and straining before the da
y even started. There were more than two dozen people on treadmills, steppers and cardio bikes, while another dozen lifted free weights or strained at the various machines. Most looked like staff or faculty, with a few students mixed in, and one or two hard bodies. She spotted Hutch, his face flushed as he climbed step after endless step on a stair climber, ear buds tuning out his surroundings.

  Unfortunately, a desk, a turnstile, and a heavy-set staff member stood between her and the workout floor. She tried to dial up a smile, but her state of nerves probably made it a grimace.

  "Good morning. I need to speak to Dr. Hutchinson. He's right over there on that stepper. I'll just be a second." She pushed on the turnstile but it didn't budge.

  The guy behind the desk looked at her tiredly. "I'm sorry, but if you don't have a membership card, I can't let you in. You'll have to wait until he's done working out."

  "He's my advisor. I'm a grad student." She fished her student ID from her wallet. "This is important."

  "Sorry, but a membership is an extra thing. People pay for it, so I can't just let you in."

  "Well, could you just go tap him on the shoulder, then?"

  "No, I can't. We just opened up, and I'm the only one on the front desk." He stared at her like she was an idiot.

  "Okay, how about this: you watch me walk over and tap him on the shoulder and I'll come right back out here and wait for him. How about that?"

  "I told you; without a membership card, I can't let you in."

  "And you can't leave your desk. Yes, I heard you." She looked at him, an unaccustomed surge of anger forming a ball in her stomach. "So, if you can't leave your desk, how do you think you could stop me if I chose to step over this turnstile and go get him myself?"

  "I'd call security and have you removed."

  "Oh, so there is someone else here?"

  "No. I'm talking about campus security."

  "Oh, but it would take, what, ten minutes for them to get here? I'd be long gone before they even came through the door."

  "Look, honey, I don't want any trouble."

  Honey? Aleksi's nails pressed into her palms like daggers.

  "Neither do I. I tell you what, you sit there and forget I ever came in." She vaulted the turnstile and strode onto the workout floor as if he didn't exist, ignoring his shout of protest. Contrary to his claim, he left his desk and caught up with her just as she stepped up to Hutch and caught his attention.

  "Aleksi! What are you doing here?" Hutch pulled the ear buds away, staring at her wide-eyed.

  "I need to talk to you."

  The attendant's thick hand closed around her arm. "You'll have to leave now, or I'll call security!"

  She grinned at him without humor, the urge to lash out raging through her veins. "Oh, so you can leave the front desk after all. Now, please take your hand off my arm."

  "You have to leave. Now." The man gave a tug, but her feet were planted and she remained where she was. She could feel his flabby fingers pressing on her arm like caterpillars trying to bite into hardwood. She reached up with her other hand and gripped his wrist.

  "I will leave as soon as I say what I need to say to Dr. Hutchinson. Now, take your hand off my arm, or I'll take it off…at the elbow." She squeezed and saw his eyes widen.

  "Hang on a second!" Hutch was off his stepper and between them, his hands on both of them. "Both of you just let go and back off. Doug, she's one of my students, and she wouldn't be here if this wasn't important. Aleksi, I'll be with you in a minute. I've got to shower."

  She released Doug's arm, leaving deep fingerprints in his flabby flesh. He would have a bruise. His hand fell away from her arm and he stepped back, staring at her wide-eyed.

  "Thanks for your help, Doug." She turned to Hutch. "Thanks, Hutch. I'll be at Peet's." She walked away and was out of the building before the guy from the front desk could sit back down. She was shaking, no longer with the urge to rip the man's arm from his socket, but with the realization that she had been ready, willing, and probably able to do just that.

  The brisk walk across the quad cleared her head and eased her pounding heart, the icy air seeming to calm her raging emotions. Peet's Coffee wasn't very busy so early, so she had her pick of tables. She ordered a coffee and something to eat, and chose one near the windows. By the time Hutch arrived, there was nothing in front of her but an empty cup and a naked bagel smelling of lox.

  "What's wrong, Aleksi?" He took a seat without bothering to get anything for himself. "If this is about the other night, I—"

  "This isn't about the other night, Hutch. You were right about that; we'd both had too much to drink and it was a bad idea, but you were right about one other thing, too." She started to lift her cup, but then realized it was already empty. She took a deep breath. "Something's wrong with me. I've changed. I'm having thoughts, and dreams, and I think even waking hallucinations. And that guy back there in the gym, I was ready to kill him. I mean really kill him, just for grabbing my arm! I don't know what the hell's happening to me, and I'm scared, and I don't know who to talk to about it but you."

  There. It was all out. He blinked, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

  Not good.

  "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

  "No, Aleksi, I don't think you're crazy. I think you're hysterical and wired on caffeine." He rubbed his eyes. "What kind of hallucinations are you talking about?"

  She told him about her dream, leaving out the fact that it had been him she had murdered and devoured, then cutting her palms with her nails, but finding the wounds already closed when she washed her hands. She showed him her hands, her palms unmarked.

  "But now I don't know if I even was hallucinating. That guy at the gym, when he grabbed me, I could barely feel his hand, and when I took hold of his arm, I knew I could tear it off."

  "Now, look, Aleksi. I don't know what's happened, but I don't think you could have—"

  She reached across the table and grabbed his forearm, squeezing hard enough to get his undivided attention. "Believe me, Hutch. Something's wrong." She released him and spread her hands flat on the table. "Look at my nails. They're discolored, and I swear they're longer than I've ever kept them. And look at my eyes. I think they're changing color. Do you think it's jaundice? Have you ever heard of any strain of hepatitis that can display symptoms like this?"

  "Okay, Aleksi. I do see some yellowing of your nails, but your eyes look fine to me." He rubbed his forearm and gave her another one of those looks, as if she were a stranger. "If you think something's wrong, you should probably go to the med center and have some blood work done. Tell them about the fever and your current symptoms, and let docs run you through the mill."

  "But, what if…what if I am crazy, Hutch?" There was more hysteria in her voice now, not over what she was feeling, but over what would happen if she was right, if she was changed. "Everything I've worked for—"

  "Aleksi! Relax!" He stood and held out his hand. "Come on. I'll go with you."

  That gesture, that open hand offering help, broke her hysteria like a thin pane of glass. The shards of her worries fell like a shower of ice crystals, like snowflakes melting into little droplets of water, like the ones on the collar of his coat. She took his hand—it was solid and real, and she had no urge to harm him or get away—and let him pull her too her feet.

  "Okay. Let's go."

  The med center was no busier than Peet's, but the rule of medicine is insurance first, care next. She proffered her student ID and told the desk clerk that she didn't have insurance and didn't have a primary care physician.

  "I usually just pay my GYN by the visit, and I don't get sick much. I thought my student status was enough."

  "Your student status ensures you urgent care. Is this an emergency?"

  "Well, I—"

  "It's an emergency," Hutch interrupted. "She had a fever a few days ago, and now is having some secondary symptoms that are worrisome."

  "Did you come in when you had the fever?"
>
  "No. I thought it was the flu," she said, picking up on Hutch's ploy, "which wouldn't have been an emergency, would it?"

  "No, it wouldn't have been." The clerk produced several forms and handed them over. "Please fill these out and bring them back. I'll have someone see you."

  Aleksi took the sheaf of forms and sat down in one of the waiting room's plastic chairs, muttering about the state of medical care in the richest country in the world. The forms were long and ridiculously detailed, as if a physician would use them, not an examination or any actual medical data, to formulate a diagnosis. She finished and returned them to the desk clerk, then went back to the uncomfortable chair and sat down next to Hutch. He looked tired and worried.

  "Thanks for doing this, Hutch." She tried to keep her tone level. "I'm sorry, but I didn't know who else to talk to."

  "It's all right, Aleksi. At least you realize something's wrong now."

  His tone was that of the other night, worried and reluctant. She decided it was probably best to leave that issue alone for now. He had been right about that, too; she never would have propositioned him a week ago. It seemed like that damn fever had changed everything; not just her, but the whole world.

  They waited and talked a little about the research. She told him of the progress she'd made on the bone bed samples and taking the second sample with Bob. The conversation fell apart, and they sat there in silence, Aleksi fidgeting with her fingernails, Hutch trying to be surreptitious about glancing at his watch.

  "Sorry you ever asked me to be one of your students?" she finally asked, staring at her nails.

  "No, Aleksi, I'm not." He reached over and put a hand on hers, stilling her fidgeting fingers. His skin was cool, his touch soft. "We'll get to the bottom of this. I promise. Nothing's going to stop you from getting your proposal in on time."

  "But what if—"