She pulled back. “How should I know? I’ve been trying to snap you out of your trance. There was this sound, and my ears popped. Then it was there, in the seat. The thing was noisy at first, like it was gagging. You know, trying to breathe. I didn’t know what to do. But I think it’s dead now. Are you okay?”
She was right, the mass was now hardly moving. It was dying, if not dead already. Bobby finally pulled his eyes away from it. He stared at his hands. The left one still gripped the folded paper. He had meant to let go of it before asking the clay to zap it to the front seat. But it was still in his hand.
He looked again at the sickening mass. Bits of pale green cloth, pale skin dotted with freckles, a femur-sized bone sticking out with its end deformed like melted plastic, part of what looked like scalp with brown hair—the same color as Bobby’s hair. And there, blood-covered and warped, was the heel of a Converse low-top with the snake-skin print. Bobby’s shoe.
“It’s me,” Bobby said.
A white and red plastic bag was shoved through the open window into Bobby’s lap. The driver door popped open and Tiffany got in.
“I had to guess on your sizes, but I think—”
She stared at the blob of skin and cloth and blood beside her. She whipped her head around to look at Bobby and Ashley. Without saying another word she got out of the car. She walked to the grass by the edge of the parking lot and put her hands on her knees like she was going to throw up.
Bobby flipped the driver seat forward and got out. He went to her and put a hand on her back. “I think it’s dead. It didn’t suffer long.”
Her mouth opened, but only words came out. “I thought for a second it was one of you two. What is it?”
“It’s hard to explain, but I think it is me. A copy of me, anyway.”
She looked up at him but kept her hands on her knees. Her face was pale. “I want to go home.”
“I know.” Bobby looked around the parking lot. A lady with a red shopping basket by her car was staring, but she turned away when their eyes met. “We’ll get that thing out of the car. Then you can drive us all to the airport. You can fly home, and we won’t tell anyone we were with you. Okay?”
She nodded but remained bent over.
Bobby went back to the car as Ashley was climbing out. They opened the passenger door and stared at the mass on the seat.
“If that’s you, it’s not an improvement,” Ashley said.
He turned to her and raised his brows. A year ago, they both would have been heaving in the grass with Tiffany. But they had seen so much since then.
Bobby gazed over the hood toward the store. No one was looking their way. Still, he was glad this side of the car was facing away from the other cars. He grabbed the blob by a curved rib bone that was sticking out, but when he pulled on it, the bone came loose with a wet pop.
“Help me,” he said to Ashley. Together they grabbed it wherever they could get a grip and rolled the thing off the seat. It hit the pavement with a squishy thump. Bobby tried not to look at it too long, but he couldn’t help noticing part of an arm protruding from one side. At least it wasn’t his head or one of his eyes.
They took Tiffany’s elbows and walked her back to the car, and they all got in. Tiffany stared at the passenger seat. It was covered with pooled blood and pink chunks.
“It’s out of the car, Mrs. Travers,” Ashley said. “Let’s go before police show up.”
Bobby said, “The police are probably too busy.”
Tiffany backed up and drove out to the highway, leaving the mass of body parts in the parking lot.
Ashley plucked the folded paper from the seat. It was the copy Bobby had asked the clay to create. She opened it and stared at it for a moment before handing it to him. The paper had several holes in it, and its edges were not straight. There was printing on it, but the letters were garbled and blurred. It was not even close to a perfect copy.
“I don’t know what you were thinking,” Ashley said, “but let’s not try anything like that again.”
Bobby stared at his face in the mirror. He had been washing dried blood from his face and neck for several minutes, and finally it looked like he’d gotten it all. But he still looked stupid, because the hair Ashley had treated with the clay was still growing, and now it was longer than the rest of his hair.
He grabbed the baseball cap Tiffany had bought him and put it on. It was red with white letters, PR, above the flat, oversized brim. With his red t-shirt and blue jeans—too big but held up with a belt—he was less likely to stand out in a crowd.
He stuffed his crusted, burned doctor clothes into the trash and left the bathroom. Ashley had already changed and was waiting in the back seat of the car. Tiffany stood next to a gas pump where they were parked. She had made it clear she didn’t like sitting next to the mess in the passenger seat. They got in the car and Tiffany pulled out onto the road.
Twenty minutes later they were at the San Juan Marín Airport. They entered a multi-level parking garage and found a place on the top level where there were no other cars. Bobby got out, holding the lump of clay under his arm, while Tiffany grabbed a purse and duffel bag from the trunk.
Tiffany looked at the clay. She handed Bobby her duffel bag. “Take some of my clothes out and put that thing in the bag. You can’t walk through the airport carrying it like that.”
Bobby took it and thanked her. He was able to get the clay into the bag without removing anything. He zipped the bag shut. Bobby, Ashley, and Tiffany went down some concrete stairs and crossed a street full of taxis and shuttles to a huge terminal building.
Inside, Tiffany stopped. “Do you know what you’re going to do next?”
“We’ll be fine,” Bobby said. “Someone’s coming for us.”
She studied them for a moment. She frowned at Bobby and tilted her head like she was looking at his ear. “Um, your hair.”
Bobby took off his cap and felt his scalp. The hair that had been shaved was now at least an inch longer than the rest.
“I was trying not to say anything,” Ashley said. “But it is starting to look funny.”
Bobby replaced the cap. “I guess I’ll just have to cut it.”
Tiffany shifted her eyes from Bobby to Ashley and back to Bobby. “Look, I know we made a mistake. And I know it’s not over. I heard you talking about trying to fix the problem. Is there any way I can help?” The way she had hesitated gave Bobby the impression she was hoping they’d say no.
Bobby glanced at Ashley. She hated the woman. He could see it in her eyes. He spoke before she could.
“You helped us get here,” he said to Tiffany. “You didn’t have to, but you did anyway. If our plan works, and we can prevent those things from spreading everywhere, it will be because you helped us. You should go home.”
She exhaled, her shoulders relaxed, and she nodded. “Good luck, you two.” She then turned and walked away at a brisk pace.
“She’s really stupid if she thinks no one will know,” Ashley said. “She left her car with a bunch of blood in it. A mangled body in the parking lot. Probably a hundred other things that will lead the feds to her.”
Bobby considered this. “Maybe the feds hired her in the first place. Maybe Helmich worked for the government—the CIA or something.”
“If so, they’ll never admit it.” She turned to Bobby. “We’ve got to do something about that hair.”
There was a vibration in Bobby’s pocket, followed by a chime. He pulled out Tiffany’s phone. It was a text message from someone named Gary: “What the hell is happening there? Been watching the news. Call me when you can!”
“Tell him Tiffany is dead,” Ashley said. She was leaning into his shoulder to read the screen.
Bobby ignored her and typed a reply: “I’m okay. On my way home now. Won’t be able to call for a while. Don’t worry.” He hit Send.
Ashley snorted indignantly.
“We need this phone,” Bobby said. “We don’t want her husband shutting the acco
unt down because he thinks it’s been stolen.”
“That’s why they call you science boy.”
“You’re the only one who calls me that.”
Without tickets, or ID, or anything else, they wouldn’t be able to go through security checkpoints to other parts of the airport, so they found a quiet corner near the outer wall where Tiffany’s phone had a strong cell signal. They sat on the floor.
“We should have asked her for some money,” Bobby said. “I’m starving.”
“Look at that.” Ashley was staring at a television attached to the ceiling. A dozen or so people were gathered nearby, staring somberly up at it. The screen was showing a news report with English subtitles. People with haunted looks on their faces were being interviewed, describing something they had seen. The video cut away to a view from a helicopter. It showed a neighborhood of blocky white houses. Police cars with flashing lights were scattered throughout the neighborhood. The camera zoomed in. Bodies were lying in the streets. People were running. The camera zoomed in closer, and a wave of gasps and cries came from the people gathered below the TV. Bobby squinted. Not all of the running figures were human.
“It’s our fault,” Ashley said. “They got loose because we left the compound.”
Bobby turned to her. She was right. More accurately, though, it was Bobby’s fault.
Ashley was still staring at the TV. “Do you think they’ll be able to stop it?”
“I’d like to think so, but the things I saw in the lower level of the compound…”
Finally she turned to him. “Then we can’t screw this up. We have to put the Lamotelokhai back together and bring it back here.”
The phone in Bobby’s hand vibrated and chimed again. This time it was a call from a number based in Oklahoma City. It had to be Jonathan. Bobby answered.
“Bobby, Jonathan Benson here. Are you and Ashley still safe?”
“We’re okay. We’re at the airport.”
“That’s a relief. I’ve been watching the news at every opportunity. Never seen anything like it. You were right, it’s damn serious.”
Bobby nodded, as if Jonathan could see him. “The airport here is pretty calm right now, but I bet people will start panicking soon. When will you be here?”
“I’m in the air as we speak. Bobby, you mentioned that you needed to see your friend in Missouri before going to Indonesia. Is that absolutely necessary?”
“We can’t save the Lamotelokhai without him. And the Lamotelokhai is the only thing that can stop what’s happening here.”
“That’s what I presumed. And that’s why we’re on our way to Kansas City. I called the family of Carlos Herrera. My intent was to convince them that Carlos should come with us to Puerto Rico, and that they should expedite the process by driving him to the airport.”
This took Bobby by surprise. He hadn’t thought of saving time this way. “Yeah?”
“They weren’t keen on the idea.”
“I bet they weren’t. I’ll call Carlos myself. I’ll get it sorted out.”
“Precisely what I was hoping you’d say. If you convince his folks to allow it and everything goes smoothly, we should arrive in San Juan as early as 2:00 am your time. If you can wait somewhere near the main entrance to the airport from the parking facility, I’ll find you. We’ll be landing at Terminal B.”
“We’re by the main entrance now. But we don’t have anything with us. We left our passports and stuff in Oklahoma City.”
“I have your things. You’ll be boarding a private jet, in which case the captain has discretion over who can and cannot board. There shouldn’t be any problems.”
They ended the call and Bobby gave Ashley a quick summary. He then typed a text message and sent it to a number he had been calling every month for the last eight months. The text said, “Carlos, it’s Bobby. I’m going to call you from this number, so you better answer!” He counted to thirty and then called the number.
“Bobby, is that you? What the hell’s going on?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I need to be sure I’m talking to the right Carlos. What did Addison say that time he smashed those termites and ate them off his hand?”
Carlos sighed. “He said, ‘Now they worship me.’ Bobby, this is my phone. The other Carlos has his own phone.”
“I had to be sure,” Bobby said. “Listen. I know this is crazy, and I know your parents are going to shit, but we need your help.”
Chapter Nineteen
Peter turned away from the compound’s dark opening. There was no way they could go back inside. If Bobby and Ashley were still in there, they were dead. Without a doubt.
There was a gravel parking lot with several cars and an unpaved road, stretching as far as they could see in either direction. They were near a coast—the air was warm and humid, with the unmistakable scent of mangrove mud and rotting algae.
Several small fires burned in the nearby weeds, and dark smoke rose from low mangrove trees beyond that. Peter’s eyes were drawn to a movement in one of the trees, near the rising smoke. He heard branches cracking, as if from the weight of a heavy creature. He squinted. He couldn’t see a creature in the tree, yet the branches kept moving. This gave him an uneasy feeling. He turned. In the opposite direction, the horizon was stacked with forest-covered mountains.
Robert stepped to Peter’s side and said, “Where the hell are we?”
“It looks like we’ve been taken out of the United States.”
“Maybe Hawaii?”
“Maybe.” Peter walked to the nearest car. It was locked. He checked the others. All locked. He walked to the road, acutely aware of the worsening pain in his burned leg and foot. To the right the road went to the mangroves, and therefore to the shore. To the left it went toward the mountains. He turned left and started walking. Robert followed.
Within a few hundred meters, fields of bananas or plantains came into view. Peter could hear vehicles passing by on what sounded like a paved road further ahead. Suddenly a dog-sized animal ran across the road ahead of them. It was moving too fast for Peter to see details, but it had too many legs to be a dog.
“We shouldn’t be out in the open like this,” Robert said.
Peter had to agree.
They heard Sirens in the distance. The sirens drew nearer and then slowed when they approached the place directly ahead of Peter and Robert where the gravel road ran into the paved highway. Peter thought the vehicles were going to turn toward them, on their way to the destroyed compound, but they turned the opposite direction and began growing quieter in the distance.
Peter could now see a cluster of houses beyond the paved road—a small town or village. That’s where the emergency vehicles had gone. Something big was happening there, but at least there would be vehicles. Peter had a strong desire to get inside a vehicle and close the doors and windows. So they kept walking.
Every step was excruciating. Peter was confident in his body’s ability to heal; for fifty years he had enjoyed the benefits of the Lamotelokhai’s particles. But it would be hours—perhaps even a day—before new skin replaced the burned skin. He wasn’t sure he could run, but he knew that running might become necessary at any moment. He looked down at his leg. The exposed flesh was every color from pink to black, and he was leaving a bloodstain on the dirt with every step.
Finally they arrived at the paved road. More sirens approached from the left. Four cars with flashing lights came screaming toward them and then turned off toward the cluster of houses on the far side of the road. The cars were white with broad blue and yellow stripes and the words Policia Transito. The cop in the last car stared at them as he turned off the highway, but he continued following the others.
Peter glanced at Robert. “I think we’re in Mexico, or perhaps the Caribbean.”
“They didn’t even stop,” Robert said. “We look like we’ve been through a meat grinder, and they didn’t even stop.”
Peter watched the cars as they sped into the village. The breeze from th
e coast behind him shifted direction for a moment, and he thought he heard screams coming from the houses ahead. He was already on edge, but now a deeper sense of dread swelled within him.
Still more sirens approached from the left, a group of navy blue cruisers and SUVs. Robert walked onto the road and stood directly in front of them. Peter realized it was the right move. They had no choice—they couldn’t stay out in the open like this. He joined Robert on the road.
The first of the vehicles, a Tahoe, skidded to a stop before hitting them. The vehicles behind it barely slowed down. They ran onto the shoulder, barreled around them, and turned onto the road leading into the village. Two policemen sat in the Tahoe. The one on the passenger side got out and approached them with his hand on the butt of his sidearm. He looked at their burned and stained hospital clothes and at Peter’s scorched leg. The other cop turned off the siren.
“¿Quién eres?” the man before them said. “¿Qué pasó?”
“We need help,” Peter said. “It isn’t safe here. Can we get a lift?”
More screams arose from the village, and the cop turned to look. “Come, get in,” he said. He opened the door to the Tahoe’s back seat. They got in and the locks clicked. The driver hit the gas and sped around the turn toward the houses.
The officer in the passenger seat turned and addressed them through a steel mesh barrier. “What have you seen? What is happening?”
“It’s animals,” Peter said. “There are animals everywhere. You can’t let them touch you. Don’t let them touch anyone.”
The Tahoe turned left onto a dirt road lined with tightly-packed houses. Other police cars were parked haphazardly in the road and yards ahead.
“What animals? Dogs?”
“No, not dogs. They are—”
“¡Mierda!” the driver shouted and slammed on the brakes.
Two figures had run out from between the houses on the left and directly in front of the Tahoe. The first was a woman. Close on her heels was a man. The woman saw the Tahoe. She skirted around the front of it without slowing down and grabbed the handle on the back driver-side door. Briefly, Peter saw her terrified eyes just outside his window as she yanked on the handle. But then the man came around the vehicle and stopped beside her. She shrieked and yanked on the handle again, but it was locked.
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