The Loki Variation

by James Riley, Sabrina

  Wednesday, September 3, 2008

  Quick lesson.

  Hello again. I thought I should throw in a quick lesson on parasites before I get to the good stuff.

  Bear in mind that I am not a teacher, but I probably do know more about parasites than the average person would even want to know, so here goes.

  The definition of a parasite is: An organism that lives in or on and takes its nourishment from another organism. A parasite cannot live independently. There are thousands of different parasites, and fungi and bacteria can fall within that definition as well. The two main types are protozoan parasites (which are tiny and microscopic) and helminths (which are worms.) There are also carriers, called vectors, but I’m not getting into that right now.

  What is important to know about parasites for what I am doing at work is that there are 3 main things most parasites do. They eat, they reproduce, and they secrete. One or more of those three things is what is harmful to the host. They might eat cells that are vital to the host, like the human brain parasite Naegleria fowleri. Or, the reproduction might be what hurts the host, because the parasite creates cysts to hold the cute little babies in, which cause all kinds of problems. And then there are the secretions. This is parasite poop. It is the waste that is usually toxic to the host, and there are so many examples of parasites that secrete harmful substances that I am not even going to start listing them out.

  I am, however, going to introduce you to a little parasite you may already be quite well-acquainted with, although you may not know it. It’s Toxoplasma gondii. This little guy lives in raw meat and cat feces, and makes its way inside a person. It does a whole bunch of nasty stuff in there, but the most interesting part is that it seems that the secretions of this parasite may cause schizophrenia.

  To sum it up, this is a parasite that is microscopic, is pretty common, and once it gets into a human body, it poops something that changes the chemical makeup of a person’s brain. It can make them “crazy.” And that is just one example.

  There are already many kinds of parasites that can invade an animal or insect and changes their behavior. There is a parasitic worm that will make a cricket jump into water and drown itself, so the worm can break out and lay eggs in the water. There is another that will convince an ant to hang from a leaf suicidally to attract a bird to eat it. Having a living organism that can invade a human’s body and then manipulate the behavior of the human is a pretty mind-blowing idea to begin with. If only we could control which behaviors are modified by the parasite and in what way. That is the idea behind the work at the lab.

  Posted by Sanjeev at 1:32 AM

  Chapter 5.

  Sitting in the passenger seat, knees curled up to her chest, it was obvious that Nora didn’t want to talk. Sasha wanted to comfort her, but nothing she thought of to say sounded comforting, so she just kept her mouth shut. Sasha’s mind, however, was moving incredibly fast.

  Her life so far, at 27 years old, was relatively simple, edging on boring. She was generally happy with it, but would often admit that she sometimes longed for something more exciting. Her imagination was incredibly active. It was probably because of this that she lived a little recklessly, and trouble found her easily. It’s not that she would go looking for it, it was just that she was hopeful that maybe being open to the possibility of adventure would bring some type of meaning into her otherwise vanilla-flavored life. Combining that with her compassion and empathy could be a doubly dangerous risk. She could remember, off the top of her head, several incidents where she had put herself at risk without thinking, to assist someone else. Sometimes even if they had never asked for it. Her mom was always reminding her to think before she acted, but Sasha never remembered until it was too late.

  She had always wanted to be part of something bigger, something extraordinary that didn’t usually happen in reality. At least not in her reality. She had always become so easily absorbed in fantastical novels and enraptured in movies with plots that were deadly, epic, and alluring. She even had scenarios in her mind, and they would emerge and play out whenever she was free to drift carelessly in her thoughts. Sasha had always, since childhood, imagined herself in place of the heroines of her favorite stories, and always wondered what part of her own personality would come to the forefront. Her bull-headed bravery? Her compassion? Her independence? But in all of those fantasies, not once did she ever imagine she would be fleeing to her parents.

  She knew she needed to be careful and aware. She was in a peculiar state of shock. Things she had already witnessed this morning had a high chance of tipping her over the edge of sanity. Glancing over at Nora, she worried that the child was already there. Nora’s face was emotionless, her lips parted as she stared blankly out the window. She didn’t react to the unsettling landscape before her.

  It had only been about 10 minutes since she had decided to find refuge with her mom and dad. She had taken the lesser travelled back roads in hopes of avoiding any more confrontations with anyone who might want to kill them. It had been a good idea, aside from a few cars she had seen speeding in the oncoming direction as their occupants were desperate for escape, the short trip had been uneventful, in comparison to earlier.

  Taking a corner at an entirely unsafe speed, she reached for the radio’s power button. She hadn’t thought earlier to check the broadcasts for a report, for some information about this unbelievably surreal Friday morning. Nora jumped as loud static filled the small interior. She looked at Sasha, wild-eyed, and Sasha mumbled an apology. Nora quietly turned her gaze back out the passenger window. Sasha tried a few of the preprogrammed stations, but there was nothing informational. She went further up the dial, becoming less hopeful, but eventually landed on a garbled voice, too calm to be a live report.

  “-Jacksonville and the surrounding areas are advised to stay indoors. Secure all doors and windows and wait for further instruction. This is not a test. Please remain calm and stay indoors.”

  The message repeated itself, followed by a series of buzzes. She turned the radio down, at barely audible level, so she could hear if anything new started broadcasting.

  “That’s good news, Nora.” She said, trying to leech any reassurance she could from the ominous message on the radio. “That means authorities are handling it. I’m sure my parents are worried about me, I wish I had my phone. When we get there, we will figure out what’s going on. You’re safe with us.” Sasha waited for her response, but Nora remained still and silent.

  Sasha bit her lip and made the turn into her parent’s neighborhood. Only then did she smell the burning. It was pleasant, at first. It reminded her of campfires and roasted marshmallows. The aroma danced around her subconscious, she was absorbed in the sense of relief she would feel when she pulled into the driveway of her childhood home, her sensible mother and protective father waiting for her inside.

  The campfire and marshmallow memories dissolved when the smoke came into view, above the mix of trees that guarded the block her parents lived on. Her heart stomped in her chest as she slowly drove down the residential lane. The doors on some of the homes were standing open. Someone was laying in a yard, face down in the dewy grass, arms splayed out. A dead body. Sasha choked down a gasp, and saw Nora lower her eyes to the floorboard. Up ahead, another car was in the middle of the road, bloodstains on its white exterior. All four doors were wide open, its headlights still on, glaring at Sasha. She was shaking uncontrollably, and adjusted her grip on the steering wheel.

  It was hard to see past the first few houses on her parent’s block, there was a fog laying heavily across the road. An eerie orange light flickered from within, and she realized she was driving into fire. She stopped in the middle of the road, ignoring the ashes that began to singe her nose and throat. She threw open the door, leaving Nora to continue staring at the floorboard, and ran as far as she could see into the smoke, squinting and holding her hair back from her face with her hand to see better. She stopped because it was becoming impossible to breathe. Sh
e was trying to locate the familiar driveway that led to the house she was seeking. She could see the outline of a mailbox, and took another step forward. She could almost make out the reflective address on the side of the mailbox. She took another step. Her heart wasn’t beating, it was rattling now. The numbers on the mailbox indicated it’s address: 6354. She took off running toward the house, her childhood home.

  The front windows were spilling smoke like a giant diesel exhaust, so she ran around the garage to the gate that led to the backyard. The gate was gone, all that was left of it was a smoldering pile of burnt wood; she leaped over it with bare feet, preparing for a searing pain when she landed. It didn’t come. The fence was gone on two sides of the backyard, and the homes in both adjoining yards were burning, too. Her father’s well-manicured yard looked like the dusty, gray surface of the moon. Her mother’s sandals were laying neatly by the door to the screened enclosure, and she quickly pushed her feet into them.

  The screen was completely gone, it was easy to reach around and unlock the glass door and step inside. Stale smoke was writhing on the air, and the closer she got to the back door, the more she dreaded what she might see inside.

  The doorknob was warm, and locked tightly. She reached up to the top of the doorjamb, grabbed the hidden key and unbolted the door. Coughing as another wave of smoke enveloped her face, she stepped over the threshold into what used to be the dining area.

  The dining room was black. Everything. She couldn’t tell where the smoke ended and the charred walls began. With one arm stretched out in front of her, and the other bent at the elbow, covering her nose and mouth, she edged toward the kitchen, where she would have access to the hall to her parent’s room. The kitchen was just as dark, but she could see weak, hazy light trying to force its way through the suffocating smoke.

  “Mom!” She choked. “Dad!” The words sounded thick. She could hear a crackling coming from the family room, on the opposite end of the hall from the bedroom she was headed towards. The fire was still alive in there. She turned her back on it and took the few steps needed to reach the bedroom. Tears were falling, but she didn’t know if it was because of the smoke or because of the fear of what she would see on the other side of the door in front of her.

  It wasn’t closed all the way, and she nudged it open with her outstretched arm. The room was unexpectedly well lit; she could see the floral wallpaper on the lower parts of the wall, where fire hadn’t scorched it. Another step inward and she knew why it was so illuminated. The roof had fallen in, leaving a raw opening directly over the bed. Charred beams of wood were hanging awkwardly from the ceiling, pointed ends resting on the once pastel quilt her mother loved. Blackened drywall and insulation, still bright pink, had rained down, covering everything but the bottom corner of the bed. The gnarled, black fingers of a Black Oak were reaching into the room from the hole it had made when it had fallen, engulfed in flames, onto the house.

  The entire room was destroyed, everything looked like it had been covered with black matte paint. But it was empty. Her Mom and Dad were not there, and they had not been crushed by the falling roof, and they had not been burned alive by the fire the tree brought with it.

  Sasha turned back towards the kitchen, calling for her parents again, when she saw a shadow move in the hallway before her. Her legs almost bolted towards it, wanting to carry her to her parents, but she quickly recalled the stalking movements of the creatures she had seen this morning; they had descended on people in such a predatory manner that she was sure she was being hunted that very moment.

  She heard a noise, someone’s feet on the kitchen floor stepping on layers of ash. She was pressed against the wall, horrified and hopeful, when Nora came into view from the kitchen. Sasha could barely see her, the light was losing the battle in here. As Nora approached me, she looked up at Sasha and stood still, her brown eyes large and sad. Nora somehow conveyed the message that Sasha was ignoring; she wasn’t going to find her parents here. Without a word, Nora went back out into the screened enclosure, sat on the floor, wrapped her arms around her legs again, and buried her face in her knees, coughing.

  Sasha hadn’t been prepared for her parents to be gone. She hadn’t been prepared for any of this, but she was especially blown away by her family’s absence. She stood in the hallway of the sooty house, and racked her panicking brain for a hint at what her next move should be. She had driven past the largest police station on this side of town, and it had looked no more safe or inviting than any other building she had passed. They had all looked foreign, menacing. Any one of them could be harboring death. She now had no idea where to go, where she could take Nora and escape this awful dream.

  Still searching for some inspiration for a plan in her crowded mind, she inched toward the still burning living room. The smoke got thicker and she covered her face again with her arm and ignored the heat coming from the dying fire that was finishing off the sofa across the room. The interior door to the garage was barely visible, and she stayed as close to the wall as she could to wrap her hand around the knob. When it opened, cool air blew through her hair, and she stepped into the inviting fresher air of the garage.

  On the shelf right inside, she knew there would be a plastic tackle-style box her dad had kept ready for hurricane season. She felt for it in the near pitch black, and fumbled with the clasp opening until she flipped back the lid. She lowered her hand inside and felt what she was looking for. She pushed the switch on the flashlight and a white beam shot across the garage. Inside the box were several other essentials, batteries, candles. A box of matches, a small first aid kit. A key ring with a solitary silver key on it. The gun safe key.

  She took the key out, and turned to point the flashlight in the opposite corner where the gun safe had always been. She had seen her Dad take out his guns too many times to count. She could almost see him now, his truck backed into the garage, him gingerly loading firearms to take to the range for a little target practice. She emulated him, kneeling down by the lock on the safe, opening the heavy door and pulling out the first gun he had ever let her shoot. It was his .44 Magnum revolver, the one he had named Dirty Harry, and the weight of it in her hand made her feel a dangerous sort of calm. She put it in the hurricane box, along with as many boxes of shells as she could grab. She reached back in and unhooked the tactical shotgun from the rack, her dad’s favorite toy. The one that had made her mother nervous. She loaded it and her shoulder protested as she slung the shotgun strap over it then headed back into the remains of her childhood home.

  Passing the laundry niche going back through the garage, she pulled a pair of her mother’s windbreaker running pants over the thin night shorts she was wearing. She traded her cotton pajama top for a t-shirt from the dryer, and took a pair of small yoga pants for Nora.

  In silence, on the back patio, Nora put on the loose yoga pants, pulling the drawstring to keep them hung on her hips. Her faded pajama top would have to do for now, and Sasha didn’t have any shoes for Nora except the flip flops on her own feet. She slid her feet out and went back inside, hoping her mother’s running shoes would be just inside. As always, they were lined up perfectly by the back door, toes against the wall. Sasha pulled them on, picked up the hurricane box, and Nora fell into step behind her as she went back around the ruined yard, back to where the car was. She was moving through the yard with much less urgency now, since she didn’t have the slightest idea what she was going to do next.

  Chapter 6.

  The road Derek had chosen to hopefully lead him to the Navy base was not as empty as he had hoped. Obviously, more people had realized the gravity of the situation and were trying to flee despite the warning to stay inside. The lanes were at a near stop, everyone trying to get to safety. However, they were all headed away from the coast, not wanting to be trapped against the ocean to the East like lemmings on the edge of a cliff. The traffic did not seem frenzied, and Derek saw no sign of any shadowy attackers. Ripley was sleeping in the back seat.

 
; Thankful that he had gotten a sturdy truck instead of the muscle car he had wanted, he weaseled his way across the two lanes of stopped cars, heading for the grassy median in the middle. His tires easily maneuvered over the grass, and the tread bit concrete in the eastbound lane. These lanes were nearly empty, there were a few other drivers who had the same idea. He passed a sign declaring the beach was three miles away.

  Derek focused on a humming sound, barely audible, realizing it was a voice on the radio. He flicked the volume control. It sounded like a live broadcast. A woman was asking what action was going to be taken, while a man, presumably the target of her questioning, was trying to speak over the chaotic rustling in the background.

  “We don’t have a lot of information at this point. We are advising everyone to stay inside, keep your doors locked. And your windows, lock your windows. We have already declared a state of emergency, we expect assistance very shortly.”

  More rustling, it sounded as if a strong wind was battering the microphone. The woman’s shrill voice interrupted his attempt to continue speaking.

  “ What can you tell us about these…these things? We are hearing reports that normal people, family members are just-going crazy. Becoming violent, uncontrollable. Could this be some kind of chemical warfare? Terrorism? Have you narrowed down the affected areas? How widespread is this?”

  The woman was starting to sound breathless. Derek inferred that she was running, chasing the man, whomever he was, trying to get answers from him as he was on his way to somewhere else in a hurry.

  “We are working on those answers right now, we just, we are not able to answer those questions right now. As soon as we can, I can assure you, the public will be alerted. Please stay inside and stay calm.”