Diffusion Box Set

by Stan C. Smith

  “I know people who look at things that way.”

  “Then you might understand my consternation upon discovering that, in this place, God does not preside.”

  Quentin frowned. “What are you saying?”

  Samuel paused, as if uncertain. “Forgive me, for I have rarely had occasion to express such thoughts to another man. They are bitter on my tongue. It will suffice to say that God is not here—because something else rules in this place.”

  Quentin eyed him. “Something else?”

  Before Samuel could answer Quentin suddenly held up his hand. “Do you hear that?” They stood motionless, listening. There were voices in the distance. “It’s them,” Quentin said. “They must be okay!” The voices rose again. Now they were shouting, followed by a scream. Quentin’s stomach lurched, and then he was running headlong through the tangled forest.

  “Lindsey, I’m here!” he shouted. “Bobby, can you hear me? Hold on!”

  Something about the Papuans’ calm willpower scared Bobby. They didn’t say much, but their message was clear—they wanted the Americans to go with them. And it was also clear they wanted to leave Addison here, probably to be dissolved into soil like everything else. Mrs. Darnell would not leave him, and that scared Bobby even more. She and green featherhead were in a standoff.

  “He’s not dead.” Mrs. Darnell’s voice was low, and her eyes glowered with piercing intensity. “And he’s coming with us.”

  “I mbakha? Yu le khomilo-mbo. Ané lai-m.” Again he motioned for her to walk.13

  Mrs. Darnell spoke firmly. “I have to take him with us. He is my son, my family.” She grabbed Addison again to lift him.

  The man shoved her back with his foot and stepped between them. “Khomilo!” He then began kicking leaves and soil over Addison, covering his pale face.

  Ashley exploded forward and swung at the Papuan. “You pygmy bastard!”

  The man ducked and she struck his shoulder. They all raised their spears and moved in on her before she could swing again. Three spear points converged on her neck.

  “Ashley, stop!” Mrs. Darnell cried. “Let me handle this.”

  Ashley’s fists were trembling. “They’re going to kill him!”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  Ashley glared at the men. Suddenly she released an earsplitting scream of anger. In the seconds of shock that followed, the forest seemed to echo with the scream.

  Bobby swallowed his fear and rushed in. He grabbed two of the spears, trying to hold them away from Ashley. “Please, you guys, just let us—” Before Bobby could finish, one of the spears was yanked from his hand and thrust into his chest.

  The words stuck in Bobby’s throat and a bubbling sound came from his mouth. Suddenly he was sitting on the ground, looking up. Ashley screamed again and charged the Papuan man, who now had no spear. Mrs. Darnell grabbed hold of another man’s spear to wrestle it away, and she called to the others for help. Bobby thought he should help, too, but it was hard to breathe. A shaft protruded from his chest. It looked strange hanging there, and his eyes again were drawn to carved symbols he had seen somewhere before. The forest was darker now. A gush of prickling heat rose from his chest and filled his head. As he collapsed onto his back, he thought he heard Mr. Darnell’s voice calling to him from far away.

  Chapter Nine

  Quentin fought through the trees with Samuel at his heels. He stopped running in order to hear the voices again and adjust his course.

  Samuel passed him without stopping. “We are near. Remain behind me.”

  The voices rose again—screaming and cursing. Quentin sprinted after Samuel. Suddenly the others were before them and they stopped short. Lindsey, Ashley, Miranda, and Carlos, all of them only partly dressed, faced off with three Papuan men. Quentin’s eyes were drawn to two figures on the ground. One was Bobby, a spear embedded in his chest. The other was Addison, his pallid face and nearly naked body partially covered with dirt and leaves. Both boys lay still, as if dead. Samuel raised his hands to the Papuans, speaking their language firmly. This seemed to draw their attention and they turned away from the fight.

  “Quentin!” Lindsey cried. She rushed over and embraced him. “They’ve hurt Bobby.”

  As Samuel held off the Papuans, Quentin and the others converged on Bobby’s still form. Quentin felt the spear. It was embedded deep. He held his ear to Bobby’s mouth.

  “Is he dead?” Ashley asked.

  There was breathing, raspy and wet. “He’s alive, but he doesn’t sound good.” Quentin looked to Lindsey. “Addison?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “His heart was still beating, but...”

  Still crouched over Bobby, Quentin glanced at Addison’s colorless skin. It was clear Addison was dying. The truth of this nearly crumpled Quentin’s fortitude. Why in the hell had he brought them here? They’d all be safe at home if he hadn’t. Quentin turned to the survivors. Was there even a chance of saving any of them? Suddenly he straightened up. “Miranda? You’re walking! And Carlos, you’re awake!”

  “They used some kind of medicine on them,” Ashley said matter-of-factly. “But it didn’t work with Addison.”

  Quentin rubbed the mostly healed spear wounds on his chest and eyed the Papuan men, who now appeared to be negotiating with Samuel, perhaps regarding killing all the Americans. Was this about the medicine contained in their pouches? Were they trying to keep it secret?

  Quentin’s eyes drifted again to Addison’s form. Addison’s right hand protruded from the dirt and leaves that partially covered him. The skin on the hand was pale gray. Suddenly the hand turned and flattened against the ground. Quentin blinked. Addison lifted his head and stared back at him. His eyes were the color of storm clouds.

  “Jesus Christ!” Quentin said, nearly stumbling backward over Bobby’s body.

  Addison was now sitting up. All commotion stopped.

  “Laléo-khén! Laléo!” said one of the Papuan men.14

  Quentin regained his composure and approached his son. Addison’s eyes followed him, but his deathly face showed no expression. Quentin knelt and touched his shoulder. Addison’s cloudy eyes showed no sign of recognition.

  “Laléo-khen!” the Papuan repeated, and then he stepped forward, raising his spear. Samuel held the man back and spoke to him. Finally the Papuan nodded, as if in agreement.

  Quentin touched Addison’s face and felt cool, unfamiliar flesh. “Are you okay?”

  Lindsey came to Quentin’s side. “Addison, can you see us?”

  Ashley’s cry came from behind them. “Someone help! Bobby’s choking!”

  Gurgling coughs came from Bobby’s body. Quentin looked to Samuel for help. “Samuel, can that medicine of yours help him?”

  “I will do what I can. Do not fear the indigenes. They will not harm you, for now.” Without further explanation, Samuel turned his attention to Bobby. The Papuan men gathered around Addison, uncomfortably close in Quentin’s opinion.

  “Addison, can you speak?” Lindsey said. He turned his head to face her, and she clutched Quentin’s arm. Addison’s face was that of a corpse.

  Addison’s eyes shifted from one of them to the other as they spoke, but milky corneas shrouded his pupils. A garbled sound came from his throat and then turned into coughing.

  “It’s okay, son,” Quentin said. “Don’t try to talk.”

  Something brushed Quentin’s elbow, and there was Mbaiso. The creature pushed past him until it was nose to nose with Addison. Mbaiso sniffed him a few times, and Addison’s eyes seemed to focus on the animal as the snout almost touched his lips. Quentin started to push the tree kangaroo away.

  “Fano! Mbolop manop.” One of the Papuans handed his spear to the others and motioned for them all to back away from Addison and the tree kangaroo. The man did not seem threatening, and Quentin took note of his appearance for the first time. Like the Papuans he’d seen with Samuel, his face was smooth. He wore traditional adornments, but his most striking feature was the
array of green feathers woven into his hair, flaring out like an emerald pincushion.15

  The tree kangaroo sniffed at Addison’s face again, pushing higher onto its haunches. Addison tried once more to speak, which led to more coughing. Mbaiso sat back, as if studying the situation. And then its diminutive forearms began moving. They danced with graceful movements that could not be mistaken for random, unthinking motion.

  “Quentin,” Lindsey hissed in his ear. “What the hell?”

  Quentin nodded. “It can talk.”

  “It can talk,” she repeated.

  Addison watched with a stony face as the kangaroo continued gyrating its arms.

  Ashley’s voice rose from the group gathered around Bobby. “Oh God, Bobby!”

  Quentin pivoted to see Samuel set a bloodstained spear onto the ground next to Bobby’s body. Samuel’s hands were also red. Quentin hesitated for a moment, and then turned his attention back to Addison.

  The Papuan men squatted side by side, intently watching Mbaiso. The creature paused its hand motions, but Addison only stared. Mbaiso sat back, apparently giving up. It scratched at its abdomen with the nails of both forepaws, as if digging at fleas.

  “I mbakha!” the green-headed Papuan said, pointing at Mbaiso.16

  The kangaroo’s digging claws punctured its own flesh. And they kept digging, working their way deep into the abdomen. The claws suddenly pulled a chunk of flesh loose. Mbaiso eyed it for a moment, as if inspecting it. The glistening flesh quickly turned dark, leaving a formless brown mass. With a very human gesture, the creature extended its forepaws, offering the substance to Addison.

  For the first time since awakening, Addison demonstrated a purposeful behavior. He grabbed the chunk of Mbaiso’s body, shoved it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

  Lindsey started forward. “Quentin, he’s—”

  “Mbolop manop,” interjected the Papuan. His tone was firm.

  Quentin looked at Mbaiso’s abdomen. There was no gaping hole and no blood.

  Addison’s emotionless gaze slowly drifted from Mbaiso to the assortment of people surrounding him. When his eyes met Quentin’s, the gray clouds were rapidly vanishing.

  As the sun heated the under-canopy into a sauna, the white noise shifted from the chatter of morning birds to the drone of midday insects. Quentin had begun to believe that the clockwork regularity of this pattern could drive a person mad. But today he hardly noticed. The insects still would not bite him, the heat was less stifling, and the morning’s events were more extraordinary than any past experiences of his life.

  Bobby was alive, in spite of the enormity of his chest wound. His pulse and breathing were strong, though he was unconscious. Samuel insisted on leaving the wound open to the air, and during the last few hours the tissue had grown together, healing itself before their eyes.

  Quentin chewed the last meat from the dorcopsis leg bone in his hand. After Bobby had stabilized, Samuel had instructed Mbaiso to gather food. Within minutes, Mbaiso had herded two dorcopsis wallabies into their midst. The Papuans had promptly killed and butchered the creatures with a shaft of bamboo and their bare hands, and then cooked them over a low, nearly smokeless fire. They’d all devoured the meat as if it were a Thanksgiving turkey, giving little thought to the stomach cramps incurred the last time they had eaten dorcopsis.

  They now sat around the extinguished fire, staring at the slight remains of the wallabies. Quentin wrapped one arm around Lindsey, thankful to have her back. Addison sat to his other side. Addison’s skin had regained its color, and his corneas had cleared up. But his pupils were dilated to enormous size, making his eyes appear black. He had barely acknowledged their attempts to talk to him. But he was alive. And the other students were as energetic as ever, including Miranda, who by all accounts should have been immobile for weeks or months.

  Minutes earlier, Samuel had disappeared into the forest with the three Papuan men. He now returned alone and settled to the ground across from Quentin. “When we arrive at the village of my hosts, I shall see that you are properly fed. A preponderance of flesh from the soyabu may produce abdominal distress.”17

  “We found that out already,” Carlos said. He had nevertheless eaten his share.

  Lindsey asked, “Where did the others go, Samuel?”

  “They have returned to their village to discuss matters. It seems your presence here utterly confounds them. We shall venture there when your companion wakes.” He motioned to Bobby, lying beside Lindsey. “The boy shows every appearance that we haven’t long to wait. You should ready yourselves.”

  “We have nothing to get ready,” Lindsey said. She explained the events of the morning—why they were left with nothing but the scraps of clothing tied to their bodies.

  “The loss of your belongings is regrettable.” Samuel said. “My hosts have little concern for possessions and contrivances.”

  “What is it they want from us?” Lindsey asked. “If they don’t have a radio or an airstrip, why are we going to their village? We need to get these kids to a hospital.”

  “Do they not seem to you to be healthy, madam?”

  “Yes, but I don’t understand why. Does this miracle cure have side effects?”

  “The poultice will result only in unreserved benefits to you all.”

  Lindsey wasn’t giving up. “So if you’re all about helping us, you’ll help us get to civilization?”

  Samuel hesitated. “We will soon be departing. You should ready yourself.”

  “I have nothing to get ready. I would like to know our plans!”

  As Lindsey spoke, she routinely brushed flies from her face and exposed skin. Quentin looked at the students. While everyone else’s arms were still, Ashley swiped at flies buzzing her face. Lindsey and Ashley, the only two not treated by Samuel’s medicine.

  Quentin got up and walked over to the remains of the plane. For a long moment he pondered the mound of soil that was once the Twin Otter’s fuselage. The stuff Samuel and the Papuans carried in their pouches could turn the fields of medicine and chemistry on their heads. But the world had no knowledge of it. This was not a lost tribe, yet to be discovered. The tribe had been discovered, possibly over and over again. But the world had no knowledge of this substance because no one had ever left this place to tell about it.

  Quentin turned back to the group. Physically, he felt more vigor than he had in days. But his mind was fatigued, staggering to keep pace with an unprecedented string of enigmas and disquieting revelations. He eyed Samuel, noting the Englishman’s apparent good-natured grace with Quentin’s family and students. Was Quentin capable of hurting such a man in order to protect them? At that moment he decided that he was. He would get his group out of here and back to civilization, even if he had to kill Samuel or anyone else who tried to stop them.

  Chapter Ten

  As if waking from a dream, Bobby was suddenly aware. But the dream continued. The sky was filled with stars, and there was no ground beneath him. The stars were endless, and Bobby sensed a deep loneliness. One star was closer, growing steadily larger. It swelled until he thought it might blind him. Near it was another object—a planet, with wisps of white and blue. He turned from the bright sun to watch the planet draw nearer, until his vision was filled with clouds and water and ice and land.

  Abruptly Bobby was back in the steaming forest. Mbaiso was there, leading him somewhere. The creature turned and waited for him to catch up and then went on. Finally, Mbaiso stopped next to a massive tree and turned his snout upward. At first Bobby saw nothing unusual, but then he made out a darker leafy area. Like a spirit leaving its body, he rose from the ground. A slit in the foliage appeared, and he entered. It was darker inside, but he could see that he was in a room, with walls and floor made of living branches and vines. A thick trunk of the tree protruded through the floor. The trunk split into two limbs at chest level, and both limbs rose up and out the ceiling. The trunk was swollen at the split, like a large termite nest. As Bobby stared, a feeling
of knowing washed over him. It was definitely not a termite nest.

  Something squeezed Bobby’s hand and pulled him out of his dream. He opened his eyes, and the grip on his hand tightened.

  “Hey, he’s awake!” It was Ashley. Her curly hair framed her face as she looked down at him.

  He blinked at her. “Ashley? I saw stars.”

  “I bet you did. You okay, science boy?”

  She dropped his hand as other faces appeared above him—the Darnells, Carlos, Miranda.

  “I saw stars,” he told them. “I was in the sky, then I came here.”

  Suddenly, memories flooded Bobby’s mind: Addison, Ashley, the Papuans—a spear in his chest. Bobby gasped. “He stabbed me!” He looked down at his chest. A scar was there, but it looked old. He turned to them. “I’m not dying?”

  Mr. Darnell smiled. It was a good, truthful smile.

  “This guy, Samuel, fixed you up,” Miranda said. “His medicine fixed all of us.”

  Bobby tried sitting up, and found that it was easy. “Addison’s okay, too?” He looked and there was Addison, upright and awake. “Hey, Addison.”

  Addison looked but didn’t smile. There was something different about his eyes. They were darker. And then Addison spoke. “Tell them, Bobby.”

  Everyone seemed surprised by this and they all turned to Addison.

  “Tell them what?” Bobby said.

  “About the stars.”

  “Addison, what are you talking about?” Mr. Darnell said.

  But Addison didn’t answer. He just waited.

  Addison’s stare made Bobby nervous, so he looked away. “It was my dream.”

  Mr. Darnell said, “You had a dream about stars, too?”

  “I dreamt about stars,” Miranda said. “There were stars, then the Earth, and then the jungle.”