by Michael Todd
Chris went over to his laptop and typed up a brief, rough summary of what he’d observed and all the ideas he’d had so far. It would have helped if he still had his flash drive with all of Dr. Marie’s notes, but a few of his from the early days of the project had been lost along with those. Before he could think of anything further, however, the door to the lab opened.
“Chris,” a familiar voice said. Chris looked up. It was Gunnar, his long, somber face unusually agitated. “You need to see something.”
“What?” he asked.
“Just come along now like a good white coat. Seriously, it’s important. That guy we rescued earlier?”
Chris nodded, hurried to Gunnar’s side, and followed him out of the lab, closing the door behind them.
Down the white plasteel halls they rushed, dodging around others who tramped from place to place in a never-ending hurry. “The wounded guy, Fernandez? The one who was bleeding out?” Gunnar explained. “He died almost as soon as they got him into the infirmary.”
“Dammit,” Chris said. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Not that there was anyone to really apologize to, but it did indeed make him sorry.
“Aye,” Gunnar went on. “That other man, the scientist, he more or less slipped into a coma after we brought him back, but he’s come out of it already—not that it makes much difference, for all the sense he’s making. Still, they wanted you to come talk to him.”
Chris nodded. Last he’d seen, the man was raving psychotically, too traumatized to say anything coherent.
They arrived in the med bay and had no particular trouble finding the man. Hardly anyone had gotten injured or sick lately, so the only place to go was toward a stretcher with a few officers and medics clustered around it.
“Sir,” Gunnar said, saluting Second Lieutenant Bokhari, “I’ve brought Dr. Lin.”
“Thank you.” Bokhari, a small but tough-looking man who had previously given Chris advice on how to fire his pistol, turned to him now. “This man you rescued is Dr. Carl Stroganov,” he explained, “although he doesn’t seem to remember his own name. Might be in a dissociative fugue state, according to these gentlemen.” He waved at the medics. “Stroganov was one of the first researchers at this base. He left before you arrived, and we just brought him back recently. Ecologist from the University of Michigan. We can’t get a damn thing out of him; just keeps going on about a woman who will eat us all. We thought he might recognize you as the man who saved him and come back to his senses.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Chris said. “I’ll try my best.”
The crowd parted and allowed Chris to approach. Dr. Stroganov was sitting on the stretcher, legs drawn to his chest, hugging his knees. His face was gaunt and his eyes were wide, staring at something far away. His right arm had been heavily bandaged where one or another of the Zoo’s monsters had injured it.
“Carl?” Chris began. “Hey, there. Talk to me, my friend.”
“The woman,” Stroganov gasped, not registering Chris’ presence. “She’s real. That woman will eat us. The woman will devour us all…” He seemed calmer than he had immediately post-rescue, but no more rational.
Chris snapped his fingers in front of the man’s face. This seemed to catch his attention, and he looked at Chris blankly.
“Carl Stroganov,” Chris told him. “That’s your name. You’re an ecologist, and you worked at U of M, remember? Wolverines and shit. I’m Dr. Christopher Lin, and we’re both scientists here at the Wall 02 base at the Zoo. You’re safe now, okay? We’ve got you taken care of, and nobody’s getting eaten anytime soon.”
The man’s mouth opened and closed a couple times, and he blinked. “Not getting…yes. Okay.” He relaxed for a moment but then tensed up again. “But the woman. She’s out there. She’s hungry! You have to listen to me!”
“We are listening to you,” Chris said. “But what do you mean? Who is this woman?”
Dr. Stroganov stared into Chris’ face, and when he spoke after a moment, his answer left the scientist dumbstruck, eyes equally wide and staring.
“Emma,” the man replied.
4
Chris plowed his way back in the direction he’d come from, away from the med bay and toward the heart of the base. He barely noticed where he was going or who he brushed past; hell, he barely registered the movements of his legs and body. All that concerned him was the rush of emotions he felt. Wonder, trepidation, worry, vague anger, and pity—but most of all, excitement.
Kemp was alive, and somehow, she had survived in that place for three months. If anyone could have, Chris thought, it would be her. And yet, why had she not escaped yet? She might have been wounded or even crippled. And no wonder she was hungry, as Dr. Stroganov had ranted. Chris chuckled to himself. A woman in a suit passing by gave him an odd, sharp look, and he coughed and rubbed his mouth and nose. People always thought it was about them.
Soon Chris arrived in the vicinity of the office used by the Agents—the two men from the Department of Defense who had run the base for most of the time Chris had been here. Originally everything had operated under the auspices of a Major Martinez, but after Kemp’s illegal expedition (which Chris had been dragged along onto), the major had been relieved of his command. Agent Davis and Agent Garcia were, as Chris liked to amuse himself by supposing, probably neurally-linked robots, or perhaps clones who’d been subtly disguised to look and speak differently. They shared an office, and they never disagreed with one another. They even finished each other’s sentences at times. Creeped the hell out of everyone. Their primary objective was budget control, followed closely by public relations. Chris wasn’t exactly looking forward to talking to them, but he had to.
He stood before the door. On it was a piece of paper with a note typed out in huge, bold font that read:
MANAGEMENT NOW IN OFFICE 101B
NORTHWEST SECTOR, NEAR LAB
“Huh,” Chris said, “that’s odd.” He peered into the little window through the door, but he couldn’t see much of anything; the room looked dark and empty. He headed back toward the lab, trying to remember why Office 101B seemed familiar.
En route to his new destination, he passed a small group of soldiers led by a beefy, red-faced white guy Chris recognized. He’d been one of the men who’d glimpsed the mother Chimera during its attacks on Wall 01. He also was incredibly foul-mouthed, even by military standards. Chris had never caught his name.
“Bottles up and dicks out, gentlemen, it’s time to fucking celebrate!” he announced, clapping Chris on the shoulder as he and his passed the scientist. “No more ass-fuckery here. The age of sodomy is at an end; rectums shall close and be at peace once more, whoooo boy…”
“What the hell is that guy talking about now?” Chris muttered to himself.
Then he arrived at Office 101B and memories came crashing back into his brain uninvited, yet strangely appropriate given the circumstances. This had been Kemp’s office. His first evening here, she had brought him to this room and changed his life forever. Here she had explained to him that the “unidentified object” that entered Earth’s atmosphere back in 2025 had been a goddamned missile launched from deep space by some alien species, which had led directly to the creation of the Zoo. Here she had kept a photograph of herself with the little girl she had saved in Turkmenistan, only for that same girl to be killed by insurgents a day or two later. He’d just found out she was still alive…but someone else was in her office.
He knocked on the door. “It’s Dr. Lin,” he said. “I need to speak with you guys. Something important.” He wondered why the hell the Agents had relocated to smaller quarters. Perhaps the DOD had finally welded them together at the shoulder.
A deep, soft, unfamiliar voice spoke. “Come in, Dr. Lin,” it said.
Chris’ brow furrowed. He opened the door.
Sitting before the new mahogany desk in Kemp’s old chair was a huge man whom Chris had never seen before. The Agents had both been fairly tall, but this man was taller still,
and almost twice as wide. Somewhat overweight, but there was also a suggestion of powerful musculature beneath his perfect, expensive-looking gray suit. He was bald, although this appeared to be at least partially the result of having shaved his head, and his penetrating eyes were a strange grayish-brown color. He reminded Chris a bit of the Kingpin from Spiderman.
“Uh, hello, uh, sir?” Chris said.
The man motioned him in. “Have a seat, but close the door behind you,” he said. His voice was sounded like a tiger purring. Chris did as he was told, and sat on one of the simpler and much-less-comfortable guest chairs.
“It’s good to finally meet you,” the man went on. “I’ve heard so much about your work, before and after you arrived at this base… and your exploits in the Zoo. I am Terry Hall.” He reached across the desk.
Chris took the man’s massive hand and shook it. “The senator?” he asked. “Sorry, I honestly don’t follow politics that closely anymore. It’s just…”
“Indeed,” Hall said, smiling. “I’m on the committee that authorized the creation of the new agency that now runs this place, and the President has asked me personally to take over.” He steepled his fingers and regarded Chris with a calm self-confidence that went almost too well with his deep, soft, rumbling voice. “I understand you’ve been here for quite a while now, Dr. Lin, so maybe you don’t know much about what’s been going on in the outside world, but word is starting to get out. What we’re doing here is no longer a secret, I’m afraid, so someone has to make absolutely sure that everything is under control.”
Chris wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, but somehow he didn’t think he should argue with this man. He had more pressing matters to discuss anyway.
“Mr. Hall,” he began, “I just found out from the only survivor of the most recent expedition that Lieutenant Doctor Emma Kemp is still alive.” Hall said nothing, so Chris went on, “The man was delirious, but he seemed very convinced. Apparently, he worked here before I did so he would have known Kemp when he saw her. She ran the research side of the project. In fact, this used to be her office. If she is indeed still alive, we need to find and rescue her. Not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because she is all but guaranteed to have information that might be vital to the entire project.”
Hall took a slow, deep breath and rubbed his big chin with a big hand. After a moment, he said: “And the fruit?”
Chris blinked in confusion. “Pardon me sir, but what exactly are you talking about?” He knew which fruit the man was referring to, of course, just not how he knew…
“Your report, Doctor,” Hall explained. “What did you expect?”
“Uh,” Chris replied, “I didn’t file a report. I only began to test the sample we brought back about an hour ago. I typed a few notes on my computer, but those were not sent—”
“All the computers on the base,” Hall cut him off, “are now linked. I implemented that first thing this morning after I arrived, and sent Davis and Garcia back to Washington where they belong. Lets me keep a nice close eye on what everyone is up to. I like to be in the know, Doctor.”
“I-I—” Chris stammered, but cut himself off, almost literally biting down on his tongue. He did not like that. He believed in scientific freedom, and that research proceeded most effectively when the people in the suits and ties weren’t constantly breathing down the necks of the people in the white coats. He wanted to protest and outline everything wrong with what Hall had just said, but he sensed it might be a bad idea. He’d just met this man, and had no idea what his leadership style might be. He didn’t want to get on the bad side of a new boss who turned out to be a total asshole.
Instead, Chris cleared his throat and said, “Kemp. We need to authorize a team to go in and—”
“The fruit,” Hall said. “Tell me more about it, Doctor. Exactly how you came into possession of it, and any new thoughts you might have had since you typed up your, ah, report. Anything at all. Tell me.”
Chris sighed in irritation. He couldn’t stop thinking about Emma and what had happened to her, but he relayed the story of how he, Gunnar, and Peppy had found the man in the Zoo, followed by the fruit rolling out of his bag.
“I’m trying to figure out why the Zoo produced the damn thing,” Chris continued. “It has always seemed as though the Zoo has its own…long-term strategy; its own plan to work things to its advantage. I can’t think why it would make something so deadly to its own life-forms.”
Hall nodded, a slow up-and-down motion of his massive shiny head, and Chris thought about how strange he looked seated in Kemp’s old chair like this. “So what you’re saying,” he summarized, “is that the fruit can be weaponized?”
“Uh,” Chris started, “well, I hadn’t really been thinking in that direction, but now that you mention it, I suppose it could. In theory.”
“Good,” Hall replied. “From what your notes said, the juice from this fruit was more effective than our strongest herbicides. Super-charged weed killer. I can’t help thinking that we could use it to neutralize the Zoo altogether.” He paused. “Or at least keep it contained to a more manageable degree.”
“Like I said, it’s possible in theory…I think. I’d need a better sample, though. All we have right now is most of one half-rotted fruit.” Chris wondered if a mission to gather more of the fruit could perhaps be combined with a mission to rescue Kemp.
Hall seemed to contemplate that a moment, then gestured at Chris with two fingers and a thumb, like pantomiming a handgun, but it somehow looked far less ridiculous when he did it than it had when Agent Garcia had done the same thing a while ago.
“I want you to gather this better sample, then,” he stated, “ASAP. We will begin putting together a team immediately, and it will depart tomorrow. You are to gather as many samples of this…forbidden fruit as you can obtain so that we can begin synthesizing it post-haste. This could be our big break in getting this place back under wraps.”
Chris nodded. “Yes, sir.” He was about to say something else, but Hall cut him off, almost as if he’d anticipated what Chris was about to add.
“And, Dr. Lin,” the man went on, “that’s not all. This will be a mission with dual parameters. Now, that scientist you brought back…the man’s most likely a raving lunatic by this point. Might have just been hallucinating something from deep in his memories. But…” he leaned back and steepled his fingers again, “If indeed he did see Lieutenant Doctor Kemp, then he would have seen her in the vicinity of this fruit. They weren’t in there very long. Therefore, Dr. Lin… find the fruit, and find Kemp.”
Well, then, Chris thought.
“You may go,” Hall said.
Chris thanked his new boss and left the office. The excitement welled back up in him as soon as the door shut behind him.
“That,” he said to himself, grinning stupidly at nothing in particular, “went just about perfectly.”
5
Chris texted both Gunnar and Peppy to ask if they had been assigned to his mission. He’d been so busy with his own preparations last night that he hadn’t had time to track them down in person. Now, lying in bed for the few minutes he had to spare before it became necessary to haul ass and hit the showers, he figured he might as well ask. The team wasn’t departing until 0900. The notice had been so short that it wouldn’t have been wise or feasible to have them at the gate by 0700, as was typical of these sorts of excursions.
Peppy texted back almost immediately: “No.” Too bad.
Gunnar didn’t reply until almost ten minutes later, after Chris had already risen, pulled on his clothes, and opened the door. “Sorry, my friend, guard duty for some bullshit delegation at the SC’s section of Wall 02. Probably won’t get to shoot anyone.”
Chris frowned. Now that the Zoo’s existence was becoming more widely known, and Wall 02 was well under way, it was being practically auctioned off to other countries or alliances of other countries. The Sahara Coalition had a more legitimate claim to be in on
the action than some of the other parties, though—or at least Algeria and Niger did since the Zoo was located on the border between the two.
In any event, Chris would have preferred to have either or both of his friends with him. He felt he would be less likely to get killed when they were around (as long as Peppy wasn’t driving), not to mention less likely to get bored. Plus, he just liked them, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. As his other friend, the technically-crippled but also technically-cybernetic Sergeant Erik Wallace liked to say, orders were orders.
He took a shower first, avoiding the other dudes as usual, he being a scrawny civilian and all. He had a blue belt in Hapkido, but his work here had kept him too busy to do much physical training. Then he hit the mess hall and grabbed a quick but nutritious breakfast, the main course of which was coffee. He wondered how ancient militaries had functioned before coffee had been widespread. People back then must have been tough.
Chris had plenty of time to spare before he joined the team, and he thought he should maybe re-interview Dr. Stroganov before they left. The poor bastard would have gotten a good night’s sleep by now so he might be at least slightly more rational and coherent.
Chris found the scientist in the infirmary, where he was already up, sitting on his bed sipping tea and staring into space
“Hello there,” Chris said, and Stroganov looked at him. “Remember me? I saved you yesterday. Just wanted to talk a bit.”
And so he did, although it was pretty one-sided. Stroganov was somewhat more calm and articulate, but not much more helpful. The only useful information Chris got out of him was that they’d found the fruit (and presumably the woman) about a mile and a half into the Zoo just past the rough trail they’d been using and a little ways off to the right.