Abduction

by Robin Cook

  “That might be risky,” Donald said. “I don’t think we should emphasize our interest in leaving. If we do, they might curtail our freedoms. As it is now, theoretically we can call air taxis with our wrist communicators and can come and go as we please. I don’t want to lose that privilege. We may need it if there’s any chance of our breaking out of here.”

  “That’s another good point,” Suzanne agreed. “But I don’t see any reason we couldn’t ask why we are here. Maybe the answer to that question will tell us whether they expect us to stay forever.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Donald said. “I could go for that provided we don’t make a big deal asking. In fact, why don’t I ask tomorrow morning at the session Arak mentioned we’d be having.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Suzanne said. “What do you think, Perry?”

  “I don’t know what to think at this point,” Perry said.

  “Come on, hurry up!” Michael said as the others entered the room. “This asshole worker clone won’t let us touch the serving dishes until everybody’s here, and he’s stronger than an ox.”

  A worker clone was standing next to the center table with his hands resting on the covers of the chafing dishes.

  “How did you know he was waiting for us?” Suzanne asked as she took one of the chairs.

  “Well, we didn’t know for sure, since the bozo doesn’t talk,” Michael admitted. “But we’re hoping it’s the case. We’re starved.”

  Perry and Donald sat down. Almost immediately the worker clone lifted the covers from the food.

  “Bingo!” Richard said.

  Within minutes the food was served. For a time, there was no conversation. Richard and Michael were too busy eating; the others were absorbed in thoughts of their recent conversation on the lawn.

  “What were you people doing out there in the dark?” Richard asked, then burped loudly. “Talking about a funeral? You’re all so gloomy.”

  No one responded.

  “Lively group,” Richard muttered.

  “At least we have table manners,” Donald snapped.

  “Screw you,” Richard answered.

  “You know, I suddenly find this strangely ironic,” Suzanne said.

  “What, Richard’s table manners?” Michael questioned with a loud guffaw.

  “No, our response to Interterra,” Suzanne said.

  “What do you mean?” Perry asked.

  “Think about what we have here,” Suzanne said. “It’s like heaven even though it’s not up in the sky like our traditional image. Nonetheless, it has everything that we consciously and unconsciously yearn for: youth, beauty, immortality, and plenty. It’s a true paradise.”

  “We can attest to the beauty, eh, Mikey?” Richard said.

  “Why do you find it ironic?” Perry asked, ignoring Richard.

  “Because we’re worried about being forced to stay,” Suzanne said. “Everyone else dreams about getting to heaven, and we’re worried we’re not going to be able to leave.”

  “What do you mean, forced to stay?” Richard demanded.

  “I don’t find it ironic,” Donald said. “If my family were here with me, maybe I would. But not now. Besides, I don’t like to be forced to do anything. It may sound corny, but I value my freedom.”

  “We’re getting out of here, aren’t we?” Richard asked insistently.

  “Not according to Donald,” Perry said.

  “But we have to,” Richard blurted.

  “And why is that, sailor?” Donald asked. “What makes you so eager to get out of Suzanne’s heaven?”

  “I was speaking in general terms, not personal,” Suzanne interjected. “Frankly, finding out how they manage their immortality made me a little sick today.”

  “I don’t know what you people are talking about,” Richard said. “But I want to get out of here ASAP.”

  “Me, too,” Michael seconded.

  A soft chime sounded that no one had heard before. Everyone looked at each other quizzically, but before anyone could speak, the door opened and in walked Mura, Meeta, Palenque, and Karena. The bevy of beautiful women were in high spirits. Mura went directly to Michael and extended her palm in the usual Interterran greeting. After a quick palm press, she sat down on the edge of Michael’s chair. Meeta, Palenque, and Karena approached Richard, who leaped to his feet.

  “Oh, babies, you came back!” Richard cried. He touch palms with all three and then hugged them enthusiastically. They briefly acknowledged Suzanne, Perry, and Donald but lavished their attention on Richard, who swooned with utter delight. As he tried to collapse back onto his chaise, they restrained him. They told him they were eager to get him back to his room to go for a swim.

  “Well, yeah, sure,” Richard stammered. He saluted Donald before exiting with his miniharem.

  “Come on!” Mura urged Michael. “Let us go as well. I’ve brought you a present.”

  “What is it?” Michael asked. He allowed himself to be pulled toward the door.

  “A jar of caldorphin!” Mura said. “I heard you liked it.”

  “Loved it is more accurate,” Michael cried. With that, the two of them skipped out of the room.

  Before the remaining diners could comment, the soft chime sounded again. This time it heralded the arrival of Luna and Garona. The Interterrans seemed to be rounding up their previous evening’s partners.

  “Oh, Suzanne!” Garona cooed as he pressed palms with her. “I have been longing for the night so that I could come and once again spend it with you.”

  “Perry, my love,” Luna gushed. “It’s been too long a day. I hope it was not too stressful for you.”

  Neither Suzanne nor Perry could decide if they were mortified or delighted, especially being greeted with such mushily amorous protestations. Both stammered unintelligible responses while allowing themselves to be lifted to their feet.

  “I guess we’re leaving,” Suzanne said to Donald as Garona playfully towed her toward the open end of the room.

  “And we must be going to the same place they are,” Perry said to him as Luna dragged him.

  Donald gave a halfhearted wave but didn’t say anything. The next instant, he found himself alone with the two mute worker clones.

  Michael could not remember ever being so excited. Never had a woman this gorgeous and desirable seemed so interested in him. At her insistence they began to spin around as they cavorted across the dark lawn toward his room. With her long hair floating in the wind, the image was intoxicating for Michael, and he would have gone on for hours had his inner ear not intervened.

  Feeling dizzy, Michael stopped revolving but his surroundings didn’t. He staggered to his right, vainly trying to maintain his balance. Unable to keep his legs under him, he collapsed in a heap. Mura collapsed with him. Together they laughed uncontrollably. They got to their feet unsteadily, then ran on to his cottage. Once they got inside, they were both out of breath.

  “Well,” Michael said. He took a couple of deep breaths but still felt light-headed. Just looking at Mura in the slinky outfit made him quiver with desire. “What would you like to do first? Take a swim?”

  Mura gazed at Michael provocatively. She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to swim now,” she said, her voice husky. “Last night you were too tired for intimacy. You sent me away before I could make you happy.”

  “But that’s not true,” Michael protested. “I was happy.”

  “You mean, Sart made you happy?”

  “Hell, no!” Michael barked, taking immediate offense. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

  “Don’t get upset,” Mura said, taken aback by Michael’s response. “I’m not suggesting anything. Besides, it’s perfectly all right to have pleasure from either sex.”

  “Hey, it’s not okay with me,” Michael snapped. “No way!”

  “Michael, please calm yourself,” Mura pleaded. “What’s making you so agitated?”

  “I’m not agitated!” Michael shot back.

  “Did
Sart do something to make you angry?”

  “No, he was fine,” Michael said nervously.

  “Something made you angry,” Mura said. “Did Sart stay all night? I didn’t see him all day.”

  “No! No!” Michael stammered. “He left right after you did. Richard just apologized for getting mad at him and that was it. He was out of here. Nice kid, though.”

  “Why did Richard get mad at him?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael said irritably. “Do we have to talk about Sart all night? I thought you came here to see me.”

  “I did indeed,” Mura said. She sidled up to Michael and stroked his chest. Beneath her fingers she could feel that his heart was racing. “I think you must have had a difficult day. We should get you to calm down, and I know just the thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You lie down on the bed,” Mura instructed. “I will rub your body and massage your muscles.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  “And once you are serene we will press palms with the caldorphin.”

  “Sounds great, baby,” Michael said, recovering his composure. “Let’s do it.”

  “All right, I’ll be there in a moment,” Mura said. She gave Michael a gentle nudge toward the bed. Dutifully Michael sauntered over and lay down on the soft coverlet.

  Mura went to the refrigerator to get something cold to drink. She gave the command directly to the receptor so she could do it as softly as possible so as to avoid disturbing Michael. After his minor outburst, she sensed he was tense and needful of every consideration. She knew from experience how easily agitated secondary humans could become over the strangest things.

  Mura was surprised to discover the compartment so full. “My word,” she said. “What all do you have in here?”

  In response to Mura’s nagging about Sart, Michael’s ardor had significantly waned. Instead of fantasizing as he lay facedown on the bed waiting for her ministrations, he found himself fretting over the dinner table discussion that their group was stuck in Interterra. Consequently her comment about his refrigerator being full didn’t even penetrate his consciousness until he heard beverage and food containers crash to the floor followed by a gasp. It was only then that he remembered Sart’s body, and by then it was too late . . . .

  “Oh shit!” Michael whispered as he leaped off the bed. Just as he’d feared, Mura was standing in front of the open refrigerator with a hand clasped over her mouth. Her expression was one of pure horror.

  Inside the refrigerator, Sart’s frozen, pale face was framed haphazardly by stacked containers.

  Michael rushed to Mura’s side and enveloped her with his arms. She sagged against him and would have collapsed had he not been supporting her.

  “Listen! Listen!” Michael urged in a forced whisper. “I can explain.”

  Mura regained her balance and pulled herself from Michael’s embrace. With a trembling hand she reached into the refrigerator and felt Sart’s cheek. It was as firm as wood and as cold as ice. “Oh, no!” she moaned. Cradling her own drained cheeks with her hands, she shivered as if a cold wind had suddenly wafted through the room. When Michael tried again to put his arms around her, she shoved him to the side to keep Sart’s face in view. As frightful as the image was, she could not turn away.

  Frantically Michael bent down, retrieved the fallen objects, and crammed them back into the refrigerator to block her view of the dead boy. “You have to calm down,” he said nervously.

  “What happened to his essence?” Mura demanded. Blood surged back into her face turning her cheeks crimson. Shock and dismay were turning to anger.

  “It was an accident,” Michael said. “He fell and hit his head.” Michael reached for her again, but she backed up to keep him at arm’s length.

  “But his essence?” Mura questioned again, although deep down she already knew the horrid truth.

  “Look, he’s dead, for chrissake,” Michael snapped.

  “His essence is lost!” Mura managed. Her fleeting anger was already giving way to grief. Tears welled up in her emerald green eyes.

  “Look, baby,” Michael said in a tone halfway between solicitude and irritation. “Regrettably, the kid is dead. It was an accident. You have to pull yourself together.”

  Tears turned to sobs as the reality of the tragedy struck the core of Mura’s own essence. “I must go and tell the elders,” she said. She turned and started toward the door.

  “No, wait!” Michael said. He was frantic. He rushed around to head her off. “Listen to me!” He grabbed her with both hands.

  “Let me go!” Mura cried. She tried to break from his grasp. “I must announce the calamity.”

  “No, we must talk,” Michael insisted. He grappled with her as she tried to free herself.

  “Let go!” Mura yelled, her voice rising through her sobs. She got one arm free.

  “Shut up!” Michael shouted back. He slapped her across the face with an open palm, hoping to snap her out of her hysteria. Instead, she opened her mouth and let loose an earsplitting scream. Fearful of the consequences, Michael clapped a hand over her mouth. But it was not enough. Mura was a tall, strong woman, and she twisted from his grasp, letting out another cry.

  With some difficulty Michael got his hand over her mouth again, but no matter what he tried, he could not keep her quiet. Impulsively he dragged her over to the deep end of the pool and launched them both into the water. But even the sudden dunking did not contain her screams until he forced her head beneath the water’s surface.

  Still she struggled, and when he brought her up for a breath, she let out a cry as loud as any previous. Again Michael pushed her under the water, and this time he held her until her violent flailing slowed, then ceased.

  Slowly he eased up on the grip he had around her head, afraid she’d suddenly rear up and yell once more. Instead her limp body slowly bobbed to the surface, her face submerged.

  He pulled her body to the edge and lifted her onto the pool’s marble lip. A foamy mixture of mucus and saliva issued from her nose and slack mouth. As he looked at her and realized she was dead, a shudder passed down his spine. His teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. He had killed someone—someone he cared for.

  For a moment he stood perfectly still. He wondered if anyone could have heard Mura’s screeches. Thankfully, the night was still. In a panic, he dragged her over to the bed, laid her alongside, and pulled the coverlet over her. Then he ran past the pool and out into the night.

  Richard’s cottage was no more than fifty yards away, and Michael covered the distance in seconds. He pounded on the door.

  “Whoever it is, go away!” Richard’s voice commanded from within.

  “Richard, it’s me!” Michael shouted.

  “I don’t care who it is!” Richard yelled back. “We’re busy in here.”

  “It can’t wait, Richie,” Michael insisted. “I got to see you.”

  A string of expletives preceded a short silence. Finally the door was pulled open. “This better be good,” Richard growled. He was buck naked.

  “We got a problem,” Michael announced.

  “You’re about to have another one,” Richard warned. Then he noticed that Michael was sopping wet. “Why’d you go swimming with your clothes on?” he asked.

  “You gotta come with me back to my cottage,” Michael stammered.

  Richard noted the degree of his friend’s anxiety. Richard glanced over his shoulder to make sure none of the women were close enough to hear. “Does this have something to do with Sart’s body?” he asked in a whisper.

  “Yeah, unfortunately,” Michael said.

  “Where’s Mura?”

  “She’s the problem,” Michael said. “She saw the body.”

  “Oh, Christ!” Richard moaned. “Is she upset?”

  “She went ballistic on me,” Michael said. “You gotta come!”

  “All right! Calm down. So she really got psycho?”

  “I’m telling you, she went compl
etely crazy. You gotta get your ass over there.”

  “Okay already,” Richard soothed. “Don’t shout! I’ll be over in a few minutes. I’ll have to get rid of my friends.”

  Michael nodded as Richard closed the door in his face. Turning around, he sprinted back to his quarters. After checking to make sure Mura’s body was where he’d left it, he changed into a dry set of clothes. Then he paced up and down the room, waiting for Richard.

  True to his word, Richard arrived in less than five minutes. He scanned the room the moment he stepped over the threshold. Everything looked peaceful enough. He half expected to see Mura sobbing uncontrollably on the bed, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Well, where is she?” he demanded. “In the bathroom?”

  Michael didn’t answer. He motioned for Richard to follow him and walked around the end of the bed. Reaching down with a shaky hand, he grasped the corner of the coverlet and whipped it aside to expose the corpse. Mura’s previously translucent alabaster skin had become a mottled blue and the foam oozing from her mouth and nose was tinged with red.

  “What the hell?” Richard gasped. He knelt down and felt for a carotid pulse. He stood back up. His face was slack with shock. “She’s dead!”

  “She opened the refrigerator,” Michael explained. “She saw Sart’s body.”

  “All right, I understood that,” Richard said. He stared at his friend. “But why did you kill her?”

  “I told you, she went crazy,” Michael said. “She was screaming bloody murder. I was afraid she was going to wake up the entire goddamn city.”

  “Why the hell did you let her open the refrigerator?” Richard demanded angrily.

  “I wasn’t watching for two seconds,” Michael said.

  “Yeah, well, you should have been more careful,” Richard complained.

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Michael snapped. “I told you I didn’t want the body over here. He should have been in your refrigerator, not mine.”

  “Okay, calm down,” Richard said. “We got to think what to do.”

  “There’s no more room in my refrigerator,” Michael said. “She’s got to go in yours.”

  Richard wasn’t wild about dragging the body over to his place, but he couldn’t come up with an alternate idea, and he knew they had to do something quickly. If Mura was found, then Sart would be, too. One way or the other he’d be involved.