Diffusion Box Set

by Stan C. Smith

  Without warning, the EMT bolted. She threw open the door and ran directly to the minibus that was pulling up behind them. As Santoso and the others piled out, she accosted them, waving her hands as she spoke.

  Samuel sighed loudly. “That young woman’s reaction, I fear, is what we must expect from those we encounter. I must say, Lindsey, you told an impressive story. Let us hope it has the desired effect.”

  “Listen, everyone,” Quentin said. “We all stick with Lindsey’s story. Addison ate something in the forest that makes him heal quickly. Addison is a real person. He’s our son, and we just want to get him and ourselves home. Is that clear?” There were nods all around. The driver watched them in his mirror but showed no sign that he understood.

  Santoso and several of his guards walked to the door of the minibus. He leaned in. “Let me see the boy’s injury,” he said, dropping all pretenses of being cordial. He moved to where Addison sat and looked closely at his shoulder. He turned him roughly and looked at the other shoulder and then straightened up. “You told me that this boy was injured. I had no reason to doubt you, and it appeared to be so. But I see that he is not hurt after all. Miss Rohadi is hysterical. She seems convinced that you have found a medical miracle in the bush. You have said that you were involved in an airline accident, and yet we have no information about a missing carrier. We have contacted the Los Angeles International Airport, and they informed us that there has been no group of passengers missing on return flights from Jakarta.”

  Santoso paused, letting this sink in. “You people puzzle me. I have seen foreigners smuggling narcotics. I have seen men who buy airline tickets for our young women, with the intent of selling them into slavery. Once I talked to a woman attempting to leave here with three infant children. She claimed that she gave birth to triplets while on holiday here. Such is the world today.” He looked at Addison. “Now I will have a new story to tell, no?”

  Santoso gazed out the minibus window at the hospital. “But first we must understand. There will be questions. Trust me when I say that it is in your best interest to answer them with truth. Our doctors will examine you, to be sure that you do not carry malaria or other diseases. And then, when we fully understand your situation—but certainly not before then—we will make a decision about the next course of action.” He flashed a seemingly genuine smile. “Let us hope that involves sending you to your home country.”

  Santoso turned to leave. “You will come with me now.” He then turned back like he had forgotten something. “Mr. Stamper, I understand you have a cellular phone in your possession. May I please have it?”

  Gregory frowned. “It’s really not necessary to take my phone.”

  Santoso waved to one of the guards. The guard pulled his pistol from his belt, leaned in, and pointed it at Gregory’s face. Gregory’s features hardened as he handed it over.

  Santoso smiled. “At this time we do not know what is necessary, do we?”

  They were split into groups as they entered the hospital. Bobby was taken to a room with Carlos and Addison. Mrs. Darnell and Ashley were put in a room across the hall, but Bobby didn’t see where the Indonesians took Mr. Darnell and Samuel.

  The room was almost bare except for two patient beds against one wall. There was no medical equipment. The room smelled like it had been scrubbed, but the floor and walls were faded with age, making them look dirty. A policeman stood inside the door until the EMT named Arina got there. She came in with a woman doctor and one of the men with white shirts. The policeman stepped out the door, but Bobby saw that he didn’t leave.

  The white-shirt man introduced himself and said that he worked with Mr. Santoso. Arina pointed at Addison and spoke in Indonesian to the doctor. She still looked nervous.

  The doctor spoke English to Addison. “I am Dr. Semedi. What is your name?” Her voice was relaxed and friendly.

  “Addison.”

  “Well, Addison, you have some explaining to do, no? You have upset Miss Rohadi. She believes that you had a serious cut that disappeared. But you and I know that is not possible, don’t we?”

  “I saw it,” Arina said.

  Dr. Semedi ignored this. She looked at each of them and frowned at their filthy bodies and scraps of clothing. She spoke to Arina. “Please go and get some clothes for these boys. One of the nurses will help you find what you need.”

  Arina hesitated for a moment but then left the room.

  Dr. Semedi faced them again. “Addison, why did you deceive Miss Rohadi?”

  Addison said, “I was asked to.”

  Bobby tensed up. This was not the plan.

  The doctor raised her brows. “Who asked you to do this?”

  Addison nodded at Bobby. “Bobby asked me to.”

  Bobby tried to make himself smaller as she turned to face him.

  “And why would you ask him to do this?” she said.

  Carlos spoke up before Bobby could answer. “We just wanted to get home. These men showed up and they had guns. We thought it would be better to come to a hospital and talk to someone like you instead.”

  She eyed Bobby. “Is that correct?”

  Bobby nodded.

  Dr. Semedi spoke to the white-shirt man. “Would it be possible for me to talk to these boys alone?”

  The man simply shook his head no.

  She sighed. “Very well. Addison, Miss Rohadi is a medical technician. She has treated many injuries. How is it that you could deceive her in such a way?”

  Addison said, “Would you like me to show you?”

  Again Bobby tensed up. But before he could protest, Addison did it. He grabbed the skin on his shoulder and ripped it away. The sound of it made Bobby gag. Blood started pouring down his arm, and shiny white bone could be seen in the wound.

  In the corner of his eye, Bobby saw the white-shirt man step back against the wall. Dr. Semedi froze, staring at the wound.

  Addison smiled at her. “It is a deception.”

  Dr. Semedi grabbed the loose skin and muscle that hung from Addison’s shoulder and pressed it back into place. “This is no deception. You have hurt yourself.” Still holding the shoulder, she yelled at the man against the wall. “Please, I need help.” The man looked a little sick, but he nodded and left the room.

  Addison still smiled. He put his hand on hers. “It is a deception,” he said again. He pulled her hand away. The flesh stayed in place and the wound no longer bled. Her eyes grew larger as she stared. The skin was moving. The torn edges closed up. And then the last of the blood seemed to soak into Addison’s skin and disappear.

  Dr. Semedi stared at the shoulder without speaking. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door burst open and some doctors and nurses came in, followed by the white-shirt man. They examined Addison and shook their heads like they were upset about being disturbed for nothing. They all spoke Indonesian, and some were yelling. Dr. Semedi finally threw up her arms and with some effort she shooed them all out of the room, even the white-shirt man. She paced back and forth until Arina came in with three pairs of plastic flip-flops and a stack of hospital-blue shirts and pants that looked like those the nurses wore. Arina handed over the clothes and then left the room.

  Bobby asked Dr. Semedi to turn around. He and Carlos peeled off the filthy remains of their clothes and put on the shirts and pants. Bobby told Addison to do this too. The clothes were too big, but the clean cotton felt nice against Bobby’s skin.

  At last Dr. Semedi stopped pacing. “I do not know what I saw, but Miss Rohadi saw the same thing, so I did not imagine it.”

  “It was a deception,” Addison said. “As I said, Bobby asked me to do this so that we would be brought to this place.”

  Dr. Semedi inspected Addison’s shoulder again. “How did you do that?”

  Bobby saw a possibility to stick with their planned story, and he spoke before Addison could answer. “We told you, Addison ate something he found in the forest, maybe a flower or a mushroom or something. It was something that makes him heal r
eally fast.”

  Dr. Semedi looked like she wasn’t buying this. “That doesn’t explain what I saw. There is no substance which can make a body heal wounds in such a way.”

  Addison stepped forward. “That is not true.” He pushed his hand up under his new shirt. “I have what you want.” He pulled his hand out, and it was now holding a plant. The plant looked to be alive, even though the bare roots hung there in the open air. It had tiny oval leaves, and between the leaves were brown seedpods the size of peas.

  Dr. Semedi stared at the plant. She then eyed Addison for a moment. She turned from Addison to Bobby, and then to Carlos. Finally she took the plant from Addison’s outstretched hand.

  Santoso took Quentin, Samuel, and Gregory to a stark room and posted a guard inside the door. It appeared they were prisoners. Quentin asked why they’d been separated from the others. Santoso assured him that it was to facilitate medical examination. More likely, thought Quentin, it was to identify discrepancies in their stories.

  “Please, gentlemen, make yourselves comfortable,” Santoso said. This was a token sentiment, because the room contained nothing more than two bare hospital beds.

  Gregory said, “Are we accused of a crime, Mr. Santoso? If we are, I would like to call the American Consulate. Perhaps you could return my phone?”

  Santoso smiled and dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “Of course not, Mr. Stamper. We merely wish to understand the circumstances regarding your American friends.” He turned to Samuel. “I know Mr. Darnell’s name, but you I have not yet met.”

  “My name is Samuel Inwood.”

  Santoso raised his brows. “Are you British, Mr. Inwood?”

  “Indeed I am. But I have been a resident of New Guinea for a rather long time.”

  “New Guinea? This is Papua, Mr. Inwood. A province of the Republic of Indonesia.”

  Samuel cleared his throat and stood straighter. “When I came to this land, it was known as Dutch New Guinea. And this particular settlement was known as Hollandia.”

  Santoso paused before speaking, as if calculating. “A very long time, indeed. I assume that you have the proper papers?”

  Samuel looked to Quentin for help, so Quentin spoke for him. “Samuel has been lost in the bush also. He was very generous to us when we found him. But like us, he has nothing.”

  “I see,” Santoso said. “Very unfortunate events.”

  An Indonesian doctor entered the room, brushed past the guard, and spoke quietly to Santoso. Santoso’s body stiffened as the doctor spoke. He glanced fretfully in Quentin’s direction and then left the room. Minutes later he returned, still visibly agitated.

  “It seems the American authorities have taken an interest in your situation,” he said. “Your telephone call has captured their attention.”

  Quentin felt a rush of relief; finally some good news.

  “Then you will allow us to fly to the United States?” Gregory asked.

  “By no means will you leave our country until you have had medical examinations and we are satisfied that you have not broken our laws. But this will now be a joint effort between your people and ours. You will remain here until some Americans arrive from your Consulate in Jakarta.”

  “And when will that be?” Quentin asked.

  “Before the day is over, I am told.” Santoso opened the door to leave. “I will see that you are fed and provided with clothing. It would not do, after all, for your American friends to think we are not gracious hosts.”

  Dr. Semedi stared at the plant. “Where did you get this?”

  “You will find there the substance you want,” Addison said.

  The doctor turned the plant over in her hands. “Did you have this with you when you came into the hospital?”

  Addison did not reply.

  The doctor looked doubtful. “How can you know this is the specimen of importance?”

  “You will find there the substance you want,” Addison said again.

  The door burst open and Mr. Santoso called Dr. Semedi out into the hall. They stood outside the door talking, but Bobby couldn’t make out their words.

  “What did you give her?” Bobby said to Addison.

  “She is interested in healing wounds. So I gave her what she wanted. This is consistent with the deception you asked me to create.”

  Dr. Semedi entered the room again. She pulled the plant from where she was hiding it under her lab coat. It was now starting to wilt.

  “It seems that responsibility for your health is now out of my hands,” she said. “I do not know what it is I have seen here today. I do not know if you tell me truth or lies. But please tell me, if I examine this specimen will I waste our time and resources? We have little to spare.”

  Bobby answered, “You won’t be sorry. It’s real.”

  “It is the fruits,” Addison said. “You must eat them.”

  She looked at the plant. “The fruits.”

  “Do not try to understand the substance of the fruits,” Addison said. “You will not succeed. Instead, use the fruits to grow more plants, so that you will have more fruits.”

  Dr. Semedi turned toward the door. Mr. Santoso opened it for her and waited. She turned back to them and spoke quietly. “I am not to question you further. In case there is any truth to what you say, I will keep this safe.” She tucked the plant back under her lab coat and left the room. Mr. Santoso glanced at each of them, and then he followed her, leaving them alone.

  Quentin, Samuel, and Gregory were confined to their room well into the afternoon. Quentin requested to see Lindsey and the students, but was told to wait. Gregory asked endless questions about the Lamotelokhai and its capabilities and origins. But finally he seemed to reach cerebral overload, and he lapsed into silence. He was taking it pretty well, Quentin thought, considering all he’d been forced to absorb in a single day.

  Samuel passed the time by asking his own questions, mostly regarding the various devices he had encountered since leaving the forest: radios, smartphones, and the hospital intercoms that interrupted them every few minutes with announcements in Indonesian. He never passed up a chance to physically touch anything unfamiliar to him, including the glass window and its plastic frame in the door of their hospital room.

  It was late afternoon when Santoso led two Americans into the room. One stepped forward and extended his hand. He wore a gray suit and was tall and thin, perhaps sixty, with almost-white hair impeccably combed straight back.

  “Gentlemen, Sterling Hess, Regional Security Officer, U.S. Embassy Jakarta. This is Dr. Paul Saskia.” The other man appeared Indonesian, though he was dressed in an American-cut suit almost identical to Hess’s. They shook hands all around and gave their names.

  Hess sat in a folding chair. The man had a relaxed but commanding way about him, and he seemed to consciously ignore Santoso, as if he had already decided he was tired of dealing with him. He pulled a digital tablet from his black bag. “There is some confusion over your situation,” he said. “The first order of business is to clear that up.” He tapped his way through some screens. He stared directly at Quentin for a moment and then looked at something on his screen, frowning. “Where are the others?” Hess asked Santoso. “Mrs. Darnell and the other passengers of the flight?”

  Santoso answered, “We have put them in other rooms in order to facilitate their medical examination.”

  Hess addressed Quentin. “Do you wish to be separated from your wife and the others at this time, Mr. Darnell?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Almost before Quentin finished speaking, Hess boomed, “Then this is bullshit. You are isolating these guests of your country against their will. Please bring the others here. Now.”

  Santoso’s face reddened, but he nodded to someone outside the door. Within seconds Lindsey entered the room, followed by the students, including Addison. They all sported the same shirts and elastic pants that had been given to Quentin and Samuel. Quentin introduced all of them. He presented Addison as his son
, which was easier than expected.

  Hess looked back and forth from his tablet screen to each of them. “Roberto Herrera, Miranda Henry, Russ Wade,” he said. “Do you know the whereabouts of these people?”

  After a few uncomfortable glances, Lindsey said, “They were killed when our plane crashed. Along with the pilot and two Indonesian passengers.”

  Hess hesitated a moment. “I’m very sorry to hear that.” He then stood up. “If you will forgive me, there is something I must clear up right away. Dr. Saskia here is an American doctor. After what you have endured, you must surely have some use for his services.”

  Hess stepped into the hall but did not close the door. Dr. Saskia smiled at them and approached Ashley first. Santoso motioned for one of the Indonesian doctors to stay close and observe Dr. Saskia’s activities. Quentin tuned them out and listened instead to Hess.

  “Cameron, Sterling Hess here. There’s been a major gaffe. I’m here with the people now and have confirmed their identities.” A pause. “Cameron, they were standing right in front of me.” Another pause. “Well, they’re quite obviously wrong.” A longer pause. “I don’t know that yet. Yes, I’ll find out. I’ll get back to you. Oh, and Cameron, they say three Americans were killed. Students, in their teens. Along with three Indonesians. Yes, indeed it is.”

  Hess re-entered the room. “Who was it that called the United States earlier today?” He glanced at his tablet screen. “The call was made to a Dr. Phil Bollinger.”

  Gregory raised his hand.

  Hess motioned to the door. “I would like to speak to you alone.”

  Santoso looked as if he might interfere with this, but then he let them leave the room.

  “You’re wasting your time,” Ashley said to Dr. Saskia. “You won’t find anything wrong with me or any of the rest of us.”

  The doctor appeared to be flustered. Clearly this was not what he had expected.