“Extraterrestrials?” I asked.
“Oh, certainly.”
With that I met the eyes of Brenda and Tank.
“So where did this stuff come from?” Brenda asked.
“And how did it get into the nephew’s room?” said Tank.
“And what killed it?” I added. “That’s what we have to know.”
Dr. Mathis held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa, easy. Um, light could have killed it. The daylight coming through the window. Some fungi can only survive in the dark.”
That struck us all. “Andi’s afraid of light!” Tank recalled, as we all did.
“But . . . wait,” I said. “That would mean this fungus is somehow conveying its ‘fears’—I’m personifying, of course—to its host. It is transmitting its vulnerabilities, so the host avoids those things.”
“Maybe it can think,” said Tank.
I waved that off. Too far out for me. “Tank, your question haunts me . . . and I really do not want to go there.” Even so, I fielded the question again, wondering if anyone had arrived where I had. “How did the fungus get into the nephew’s room?”
Brenda cursed under her breath. She’d figured it out.
A cloud descended over Mathis’s face. He’d figured it out, too.
Tank waited to hear the answer.
Brenda provided it. “It was in the nephew.”
Dare I speak it? “The nephew went into the room, but he didn’t come out.”
Tank went for the bright side. “He could have gone out the window with the dog and cats.”
“There were no footprints to show that.”
Brenda wagged her head. “I don’t wanna go there, either.”
“What?” Tank asked.
“The nephew could still be in the room,” I said, my guts twisting as I recalled the image of those cargo shorts lying at the center of a powdery explosion. “Or . . . what is left of him.”
Tank’s jaw sagged and his eyes widened. Now he was with us. “Well . . . m-maybe he did go out the window. He had to have gone out the window.”
“Oh, wait a minute!” said Dr. Mathis. “As to the source of the fungus. There could be a connection—” We waited. He finally shared, “One of our field biologists encountered a virulent fungus in an aquatic preserve not far from here. We were losing dolphins and manatees and trying to figure out why, and that fungus could be the cause.”
“And the fish and birds, too?” Brenda asked.
Mathis nodded. “If we can retrace the source, we might find out what we’re dealing with. I can take you there. We can look around.”
I exchanged an affirmative look with the others. “It’s a plan.”
CHAPTER
8
The Aquatic Preserve
Having set Brenda and Tank on a different task, I rode with Mathis as he drove south along the coast, beyond the beachfront houses, hotels, and marinas, to an aquatic preserve where the encroachment of man had been held back and wildlife could at least make a go of it. It was a lovely spot where the fresh waters of the Florida interior eventually found their way to the sea and the waters mingled; where varieties of sea grass provided habitat and food for fish, crustaceans, and manatees; where long-legged cranes waded in the shallows and pelicans soared with graceful precision.
Mathis pulled to a stop at the end of an unimproved road and opened the trunk of the car, pulling out two pairs of waders. Well! Being quite the fly fisherman, a lover of rivers, waters, and nature, I slipped into mine with ease and some eagerness. In no time, we were hip-deep in the blue water, easing our way along the edge of mangroves, bumping into sparkling, darting fish, and looking for anything peculiar—which seemed to be in short supply.
“It seems an infestation of green fungus would be rather visible,” I said, looking about and seeing only blue water and healthy plant life.
“Well, this is where our field man encountered it, although you’re right, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.”
“Pleasant, though. A man could spend days here just—”
I stopped talking when Mathis raised a hand, then pointed toward the middle of the bay. Well! I’d come to look for fungus, seen only the beauty of nature, and now, here was another sight worth the drive: a dolphin, arcing through the water, spouting and shining in the sun. I’d never seen one in the wild and, frankly, I was mesmerized.
“They don’t usually come in this close,” Mathis said, as excited as I was. He splashed as we watched, and lo and behold, the dolphin changed course and circled back toward us.
“What! Is he . . . ?”
“He could be used to humans. It happens.”
Of course, I’d seen dolphins perform in aquarium shows, but this was the real thing. I remained still, not wanting to alarm the creature, as Mathis gently splashed, coaxing the dolphin to come and say hello.
And it did come in close, so close I felt a little timid. Just what was one to do when face-to-flank with a sizable sea creature? Did they bite? Were they skittish?
The dolphin floated within reach, resting placidly in the water.
“Yes,” said Mathis. “Definitely habituated to humans. It’s too bad we don’t have a treat we can give it.”
“Amazing!” I whispered, awed and relishing the moment.
But then again . . .
While silvery gray as a dolphin should be, there was an odd greenish sheen on the hide. I leaned, studying, trying to verify.
The dolphin rolled lazily on its side like a dog.
Mathis chuckled. “Look at that! He’s gotten used to getting belly rubs.”
“Really?”
He gestured. “Go ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Move slowly. See what happens.”
I took a step closer, extended my hand . . .
I froze, as did time. I looked again to be sure.
The dolphin had no eyes, only empty sockets exuding a green pollutant into the water.
With heart-stopping abruptness, the bark of a dog made me jump and shattered the moment. The dolphin vanished in a thunderous splash that doused me. The dog kept barking, fiercely, protectively.
And pieces came together in that moment. The dog happened to be Abby, on a leash, expected, and brought to the aquatic preserve by Brenda and Tank. I turned to observe, and there she was, running along the bank, pulling Tank after her, barking furiously at the departing dolphin.
A sideways look at Mathis revealed a man taken aback and alarmed.
“What is this?” he asked.
“They got here late,” I replied, not telling him that was our whole intention. “Whatever we’re dealing with, it seems Abby has a sense about it. It might be a scent, it might be raw intuition, we don’t know, but I thought it could be helpful today—and it seems that’s the case.”
“But she scared the dolphin!”
I nodded. “Indeed she did.”
The dolphin now gone, Abby was willing to submit to Tank’s leading—but then she went into bark and attack mode at the sight of Mathis! Now both Brenda and Tank worked to contain her, but I could see they would never get her back into the car without risk.
“I’m so very sorry,” I told Mathis. “This is not a good situation. Perhaps if you could work your way back to your car and leave, we can get that dog contained.”
Mathis wasn’t about to argue. “I’ll do that.”
He clambered out of the water, pushed his way through the grass and mangrove, and a moment later, I heard his car start and drive away.
Abby watched him go, and then calmed down, loved and petted by Tank and Brenda. I climbed up the bank, slipped out of the waders, and joined them.
“Well done,” I said, still shaken.
“Sorry . . . I think,” said Tank, kneeling by Abby. The dog was panting and smiling, but still edgy.
“On the contrary, you have carried out a successful experiment, and also may have saved my life.” The fact unnerved me even as I shared it. “That dolphin had no
eyes, and it was oozing green.”
I could see shock hit them, followed by new realizations.
“Just like Abby!” Brenda exclaimed.
“No wonder she was so upset,” said Tank. “She’s been there. She lost her eyes, lost her life.”
“Whatever gunk got into that dolphin got into her, too,” said Brenda, who immediately cursed as the next connection hit. “But . . . she barked at Mathis . . . and she barked at Andi!”
“Sensing the same thing in all three,” I said as I sat on the grass, weakened, trying to sort it out.
“And she’s sensing the same thing at Jacob and Sadie’s house,” said Tank. “Sitting there looking out at the ocean, right? Just like that time she ran into the surf chasing after something.”
“And came back dead with her eyes gone,” Brenda added, “just like the dolphin.”
“Which puts us right on the edge of accepting UFOs,” I said, my cynicism unhidden. “Didn’t a huge glowing sphere in the sky fit into the narrative? Let’s be cautious here.”
They both raised their eyebrows at me. Maybe Tank learned it from Brenda.
“But you are witnesses: I accept that Abby has a canine gift of some kind, and I’ve reached the point of trusting it.”
“Wow,” said Brenda. “Trust.”
I avoided that rabbit trail. “And given that, whatever Abby is telling us does not bode well, and the whole situation is getting bigger, wider in scope than we first thought. We’ve seen this eyeless death thing before.”
“All those dead fish and birds,” said Brenda.
“Those tough guys back in Italy,” said Tank.
“The birds that rained on us while we were in that taxi.”
“And on and on it goes,” I said, even as Brenda’s comment about trust persisted in my mind. Where would I be now if Brenda and Tank hadn’t joined in the plan and brought Abby when they did? Where would I be if I had to sort this whole thing out and save Andi alone? If there was a point, a plan, an overarching scheme behind what faced us now, could that same scheme have been behind all those past places and cockeyed adventures?
“What?” Brenda asked.
I wasn’t ready to concede what now hammered at my mind. “Oh, nothing.”
“So what’s next?” Tank asked, clearly assuming that we would be doing whatever it was together and, of all things, turning to me for leadership. Some things were just unavoidable.
“Aunt Edna.”
CHAPTER
9
Aunt Edna
Aunt Edna had much to deal with and, consequently, was inconsolable. The upside was she was talkative, especially as we recounted Andi’s condition, our own encounters with glowing spheres and orbs, what happened to Abby, and the strange almost-encounter with the dolphin. “Oh my, oh my, oh my! It’s the end. We’re being invaded! It’s aliens from outer space!”
To the facts, I thought. “You said your nephew had pets: three cats, two dogs.”
“A yellow lab, a chocolate lab, a white cat, a black cat, a mangy cat . . .”
“Any idea where those pets are?”
“No, and that’s the truth,” she said. “But the yellow lab, Boris . . .” She hesitated.
“You can tell us,” Tank urged.
“Boris got snatched by the UFO, just like your Abby. But he came back alive. His eyes were gone, but he was still alive, like that dolphin! He came home and ran right into my nephew’s room as if he could see where he was going, and after that . . . that’s when my nephew started acting crazy.”
“And Boris?”
“Disappeared. Except . . .”
“Go on.”
She nodded toward her nephew’s room. “Right after Boris came home, the aliens started snooping around the house, shining their blue lights in the windows and scaring us, and then . . . that brown powder. My nephew had it on his shoes; he was tracking it around the house. There was brown powder, but no Boris. And then my nephew got crazy.”
“The, uh, aliens . . .” I approached the topic gingerly. “Do you mean orbs? Spheres of light?”
She nodded, trembling with fear. “They were watching us, watching him, and then, when he wouldn’t come out of his room, they went looking for him. One came right into the house, searching all around with a blue spotlight. It was like we were animals in the zoo, or, or, fish in a fish bowl, or . . .”
“Or specimens being studied,” I said, recalling words the nephew had used.
“Yes! Yes, exactly!” She sobbed, and her whole body shook. “They’re going to take over. We’re all gonna turn to powder!”
As we left Aunt Edna’s home, we grappled with what to do, how to help her. We could call the police, but what on earth could we or Aunt Edna tell them that they would even believe, and given the incomplete smattering of information we had so far, what could we do? There was no good news, none at all.
And then there was Andi. “If this fungus is the central cause in all of this,” I said, “then Andi has it too—and now we know where she got it.”
“From Abby,” lamented Tank. “Had to be. Andi was holding Abby when she was dead, there on the beach. She was holding Abby, putting her face right up to Abby’s face . . . and I saw it: green stuff in Abby’s mouth, in her eye sockets.” He was near tears. “Man, I had no idea.”
“But you healed her,” said Brenda. She looked at me, insisting. “He did heal her!”
“Well, God did,” said Tank.
“But not before the fungus passed from Abby to Andi,” I said, “no matter how the ‘healing’ happened.”
“But what about Daniel?” Tank said, worry in his voice. “He was there. He put his face right against Abby’s.”
“He’s all right,” Brenda answered.
I asked, “How do you know?”
It seemed she had to formulate an answer. “Oh, I’ve been checking in on him.”
“Hey,” Tank asked me, “do you think Mathis tried to set you up, get you infected by that dolphin?”
“I intend to ask him,” I said. “But first we’ll check on Andi. If this infestation follows any consistent pattern . . .” I couldn’t think it, much less say it.
CHAPTER
10
Aloysius
As we drove near the hospital, I thought I recognized a little lady tottering down the sidewalk. Well, no, it couldn’t be who I thought it was. After all, the behavioral health unit was in a secure environment with a big security door to keep all the patients from wandering off. But then . . .
“Hey,” said Tank, pointing at an odd-looking fellow leaning against a building, staring at the sky, “isn’t that a guy from the ward where Andi is?”
We all looked, even as two white-coated staff from that very ward accosted the man and gently but effectively rounded him up.
“Oh no,” I said, pressing the accelerator. “Oh no.”
I parked our car rather sloppily, and we dashed in to find the unit in chaos. Orderlies were dashing about, Dr. Lawrence was barking orders, a red light was still flashing. Security guards were going here and there, jabbering into walkie-talkies that hissed and squawked back.
We approached Dr. Lawrence. He was consulting with Physician’s Assistant Matilda Fornby who, strangely, was being held in a chair by two orderlies.
We hardly had to ask a question when we heard the babble coming out of Fornby’s mouth: “Oh, yes, Doowano, god of great wisdom! All things serve all things, and those things that serve serve in return, to the end that oneness comes and we are the cosmos . . .”
“What happened here?” I asked Dr. Lawrence.
Dr. Lawrence’s mind and attention were desperately occupied everywhere else as he tried to fit in an answer. “Fornby’s out of her mind. She opened the security door and half the patients have wandered off.”
“What about Andi?”
“She’s gone. But don’t worry, we’ll find her.” And then he was heading elsewhere. “ALLAN! Get a head count! Julie? Julie! Do we have the police on the li
ne? Speak up!”
Roberto the orderly came racing by. I had to take his arm to stop him. “Are there any pets in the ward?”
He looked at me as if I were the worst of the patients. “What?”
“Pets. Dogs, cats?”
That finally registered. “Aloysius!”
The man was still preoccupied, hearing orders, trying to choose actions. I had to shake him. “Who? WHO?”
“Aloysius,” he answered, looking down the hall. “The cat. We had a pet cat. But we had to confine it because it got sick.”
“What do you mean, sick?”
“It went blind. Somehow . . . it lost its eyes.”
What a feeling: our enemy, whoever or whatever it was, was several steps ahead of us. “Where is that cat?”
Of course Roberto had other things to do, but I managed a grim enough look to convince him. He started down the hall. “Come on.”
We followed as he jingled through his keys. “Fornby was taking care of it and put it in here until the vet could come take a look—” The door he spoke of, marked MAINTENANCE, was already open. “Oh, great!” he said.
And then he screamed. So did Brenda. I’m sure I must have, but I only remember hitting the floor with all the others as an orb, as real as anything, defying gravity, floated out through the doorway, rotated 180 degrees, and shined a blinding beam of blue light into the room. Then it rotated and fixed its lens on us. We cringed, curled, covered our heads.
Having a good look at us must have been enough. It rotated, flew down the hall, and went out through a window it had apparently broken to get in.
“Madre de Dios!” Roberto exclaimed.
I was too shaken to stand, so I crawled to the door. Tank and Brenda got to their feet, though shakily.
Inside we saw the cat’s basket on the floor, but now, save for a few shreds of calico fur on the pillow, nothing remained but a thick circle of green powder fading to brown.
Roberto helped me up. I asked him, “Where . . .” I had to gather myself and take another breath. “Where did that cat come from?”
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