by Weston Ochse
"To a project that would get us straight and teach us how to work in space."
"I suppose none of that was a lie. Of course, it begs a lot of questions... especially why a space program would be hidden on the coast of this horrid inland sea. Did any of you ask yourself that question?"
Metzger shook his head.
"Clearly you don't know as much as I thought you did." The Mad Scientist sighed. "Tell me why you've come."
"We thought you would show us the hand," Natasha said.
The Mad Scientist blinked for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"We saw you," Derrick said.
"Ahh. So it was you on my roof the other day." Gudgel shook his head and laughed. "I convinced myself that it was a bird."
"So what about it?" Metzger asked. "Can we see it?"
When Andy hesitated, Natasha added, "It's not like we don't know about the creatures. We saw them. Hell, they almost killed Metzger."
The Mad Scientist visibly deflated, all fight gone from him. Without a word, he went to a refrigerator towards the rear of the trailer, removed a covered stainless steel tray, and brought it back to where everyone stood. He set it on the table and removed the metal lid, revealing a shriveled green hand that twitched and moved of its own accord.
"Oh my God!" Metzger stepped back into Veronica. "I thought you were kidding."
"Easy, big boy. It's only a hand," Veronica said.
"Man, oh man, oh man." Derrick looked around, excitement and fear racing across his face.
Using stainless steel prongs, the Mad Scientist grasped the hand and held it to the light. The fingers tried to grip the steel holding it, but couldn't get enough purchase. The sight of the hand so close to Natasha's face sent a shiver up her spine.
"Is... is... it alive?" Derrick stuttered.
"It's as dead as the sea outside."
"Then how is it... why is it moving?" Natasha said.
"It's not the why of it, but rather the how. I've been trying to reverse engineer what we started twenty years ago."
He offered the prongs holding the hand to Metzger. "Here, hold this."
Metzger grabbed it. Once it was in his hand, he remained still as a post, staring fearfully at the thing writhing in the grasp of the tongs.
Meanwhile, as the other three waited, the Mad Scientist went to the refrigerator and returned with a stoppered test tube half-filled with a glowing yellow substance. He placed it in a wooden stand and regarded it with reverence.
"This is what it's all about. I've been able to extract this over the years, but I'm still trying to find out how they did it. When I was part of the program, we were still banging our heads against the scientific wall, but so much has been discovered or invented since then. Not least the modern computer; calculations that used to take days or weeks now take seconds." Gudgel sighed and shook his head.
"Hey, can you take this?" Metzger asked, his eyebrows raised as he held out the green hand.
The Mad Scientist took the hand and put it back in the tray. He bade his guests sit and told them what he knew about the green hand, where it came from, why it existed, and why he remained behind to discover what was going on.
"It started during the Kennedy Administration. Two initiatives were created, the Apollo Program and the Hadrian Outpost Project. One would take man to the moon, and the other would keep him there. But because of the sensitivity and the fear of the Soviet Union, the second project remained hidden in plain sight, on the edge of a once famous resort now abandoned for the glitz of Palm Springs. Despite the secrecy, the program was well funded and made great progress from the start.
"The idea was to make it possible for humans to work in space. It was one thing to plant a flag, but another thing altogether to take possession and build upon that first step. Hadrian's Outpost was named after the Second Century Roman Emperor who conquered and held far-flung reaches of land on the very edge of Roman civilization. For the project to work it would require that humans develop the ability to function in low-gravity, zero-oxygen environments; something that wasn't possible without the use of vacuum suits.
"Terminally-ill prisoners in federal custody became willing test subjects when their families were promised significant sums of money. With nothing to lose, those in their last days signed up... and died, one after another. For the first four years, there was little advancement except for an understanding of virus delivery mechanisms and the affects of ionizing radiation on cells.
"Through the Nixon Administration the project continued, and it didn't hit a glitch until Ford came into office. President Ford learned about the project and insisted on a visit. He was appalled at what he saw and tried to pull funding. But Ford had little power and only succeeded in redirecting the budget from NASA to the Department of Defense.
"Sadly, that was what did the project in. After the unsuccessful Carter Administration, President Ronald Reagan entered office and cleared the books of all old projects. With no representative or senator to stand up for the program it was disbanded.
"At least it was supposed to have been. Most of the staff left, but a select group continued to work, funded by donations to environmental research which were funneled by friends in congress to a tiny annual budget called the Salton Sea Desalination Environmental Project. Barely enough money to keep the project going with a skeleton staff, it was still enough to maintain operations, until a more friendly and open-minded administration was able to resurrect the foundering project."
Natasha and the others learned that the Mad Scientist - aka Andy Gudgel - had been one of the head scientists from 1972 to 1981. He'd been a civilian scientist until Ford took office, then was released as part of the downsizing efforts. He could have gone anywhere, but his heart was with the project, so he'd stayed, hoping that someday he'd be rehired and return to the project he'd helped create. Until then, he lived in Bombay Beach on the money he'd banked all the years he'd been working, trying from his trailer to keep up with the scientific advances that were being made behind the scenes.
But he had to be careful. The project had placed two security personnel within the population of Bombay Beach. In all of his years, the Mad Scientist had only found out the identity of one of them - Maude McKinney. And she was always watching him, making sure that he kept his activities quiet and private. As long as he didn't broadcast the truth of the project to the world, she and the others let him live in peace.
When the revelation surfaced that Maude knew about everything, Natasha groaned inwardly. She stole a glance a Veronica. "What do you mean, she knew? She knows about all of it? Even the creatures?"
"I'm not sure what she knows about the progress."
"Progress? I saw more than three dozen creatures rise out of the water and kill soldiers. And trust me, the soldiers never even had a chance. Is that what you mean by progress?" Natasha's face was purple with fury.
The Mad Scientist shrugged and smiled weakly. "Actually, yes. What you saw were creatures who should not exist, functioning with cells that can do little more than maintain a power charge. They don't need to breathe, eat or drink. I'd call that an achievement."
"That's just sick," Natasha said.
"They're zombies, aren't they?" Derrick asked.
The Mad Scientist regarded the boy for a moment, then nodded as if the idea hadn't occurred to him before. "Not zombies in the Haitian sense. But semi-mindless, unliving creations that attack everything that moves, yes."
Natasha was only half listening. She was furious that Maude had known what was going on and had never told anyone. All those dead soldiers could have been saved if the woman had spoken out. "So if they were created to work in space, why do they want to attack people? I don't get it." Natasha said, rejoining the conversation.
Metzger nodded. "Yeah. Good question, Natasha."
The Mad Scientist shook his head. "I don't know. I wasn't privy to the trials. If I succeed in reverse engineering the isotope, then maybe I can tell
you. Until then, it's all just guesswork, hardly real science. Frankly, I don't care. They were meant to be disposable workers in space. Side effects are bound to occur."
"Can we ask him about the book now?" Derrick held it out in front of him. "Mad Scient - er... Mr. Gudgel. Can you take a look at this for us? I think my grandpa wrote it, but it was in code and we can't figure out what it says."
Gudgel took the book and glanced at the kids. "So they still call me the Mad Scientist, huh?" He shook his head. "I suppose there are worse things. Let me see this." He paged through it, stopping now and then to look closely at a page, or to inspect the margins. "It is indeed a code. What was your grandfather doing, I wonder?"
"We thought he might have been writing about what he saw in the water. Maybe he knew about the project."
He looked up sharply. "Do you think so? Hmm. No wonder Maude was so into him."
Natasha decided at that moment that she was going to have a word with the woman.
"Can you decipher it?" Derrick asked.
"Possibly, as long as the crib is included."
"The what?" Metzger asked.
"The crib. This is clearly a substitution text. It doesn't appear to be Caesar's, although I can't rule that out without checking. Look here, at the end of every odd numbered page, are these same twelve letters. Different books traditionally use different cribs, so this was a way for the owner to keep track."
He held the book out for everyone to see:
GDOQSGHOHWCB
"The fact it appears so often tells me that it has to be the crib, or the key to decoding the text. You decipher these 12 letters and you have the key to the rest of the text. If you can't, then the text is useless. It's probably a simple shift. This was drawn in freehand, so unless he was a genius, then he probably shifted the alphabet so that he could write this easily."
"And when you say shift you mean...?" Metzger trailed off.
"Say you assign 'G' for 'A,' then that means that 'H' would replace 'B,' 'I' would replace 'C' and so on. A simple shift."
"Simple shift," Derrick mouthed, as he took the book back. He opened it and stared at the characters at the bottom of each odd page with wide careful eyes.
"So what's next?" Metzger asked no one in particular.
Nobody answered.
They returned to her grandfather's trailer, overwhelmed by information. The whole way back no one said a word. Auntie Lin saw their pensive faces when they arrived and fixed them heaping bowls of fried rice. Veronica handled her Chinese hot sauce well, but Metzger had sweat pouring from his scalp as he wolfed down the food with an equal amount of water. He never complained, but eating the fried rice was clearly an unanticipated ordeal.
After lunch, they gathered in the living room, sprawling stickily along the leather couches. The single air conditioner in the front window whined tiredly; with the curtains closed and the ceiling fan on full, the room was barely tolerable. Still, it was better than the rooftop patio.
Natasha passed out pieces of paper and pencils. Their first order of business was to find out what the crib was. They had 12 characters. What made it more difficult was that there were no spaces between any of the letters in the book at all.
But at least they had the crib.
With the crib written at the tops of their pages, each of them sat for an hour, writing guesses, then seeing if the letter sequences and frequencies were the same as in the crib. Sadly, and frustratingly, none of them had any luck.
They heard the sound of two vehicles squealing to a stop outside, then the crunch of many boots on gravel, running toward the house.
Metzger took off for the back of the trailer only a moment before someone began hammering on the door.
"Open up! We know you're in there."
Natasha frowned as she stood. She exchanged looks with Veronica and Derrick.
"I said open up. We have the house surrounded."
She went to the door. "What's going on? This is Natasha Oliver. I live here."
She heard whispers from the other side of the door, then came a voice she recognized. "Natasha, this is Mr. Hopkins. Can you open the door, honey?"
She turned to Veronica and scrunched her nose. She hated being called honey.
Veronica made the universal sign for shooting oneself in the head. Derrick, meanwhile, gathered the papers into a pile, then shoved a comic book over the top of them.
"What's going on, Mr. Hopkins?" Natasha asked, pouring on as much innocence as she could. And it wasn't easy. In her mind's eye, he was standing out by the buses watching all the soldiers being killed.
"Nothing, dear. I have some men with me who are looking for an escaped prisoner. They need to come inside and conduct a search."
She hated being called dear worse than she hated being called honey. "Do they have a warrant, Mr. Hopkins?"
Hopkins didn't answer right away. Instead, there was more muffled conversation from the other side of the door.
"Natasha, dear, they don't need a warrant. In the interests of National Security and the PATRIOT Act, they have a right to enter your home whether you want them to or not. I'd open up if I were you."
Veronica shook her head vigorously, while Derrick stared at her with eyes the size of clocks.
Where was her dad when she needed him? Frustration and fear shot through Natasha. Everyone back in Willow Grove knew that the reason Auntie Lin had stayed around was because the kids needed someone that they could count on to raise them. But there were some things her nanny couldn't do and standing up to armed men was one of them.
Natasha could just imagine something horrible happening, the armed men breaking down the door and doing something to her and Derrick and Veronica. The best thing to do would be to let them in and hope for the best. After all, it appeared as if Mr. Hopkins was trying to make this look legal, so if she played along, maybe she'd have a chance. Besides, if they did find Metzger, they couldn't rightly take him straight to the zombie factory. Not with all of them as witnesses.
"Natasha, are you there?"
"Yes. I'm opening the door now. Hold on a moment." She glanced back to find that Metzger had disappeared. She didn't know where he'd gone, but she had to trust that he'd find a place where he couldn't be found.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and opened the door.
Two soldiers dressed in black, combat helmets atop their heads, stood to either side of the door, rifles pointing right at her. Mr. Hopkins stood between them, dressed in a red polo shirt and jeans, wearing a self-satisfied smile.
"Mind if we come in?"
She stood aside. Never having had a weapon pointed at her before, Natasha was stunned. The very idea that she was one trigger pull away from death made her chest tighten. She felt hot tears prick her eyes and fought them back as all three men entered the house.
"So where is he?" Hopkins asked Derrick. "Have you seen him, son?"
"Leave him alone." Veronica started to stand, but one of the soldiers pushed her down. "Don't tell them anything, Derrick."
"Don't pay attention to Ms. Veronica, Derrick. Her rap sheet is bigger than her common sense. Did she tell you that she has a criminal record? Did you know that she liked to burglarize people's homes when they were away at work?"
Derrick looked from Veronica to his sister.
"Stop bullying Derrick," Natasha said, recovering from her initial shock.
"Then tell us where he is."
"He's not here."
"Then why are there four glasses and only three of you?" Hopkins pointed at the coffee table.
Hopkins glanced down at the comic book resting atop the pile of papers with their decoding efforts. If Hopkins picked it up, he'd most assuredly see what they'd been working on.
Then, of course, Hopkins did exactly what she was afraid of, picking up the comic book and holding it up to the light. "I thought I heard that Batman was dead. Did he come back to life or something?" He waved the comic book at Derrick to get the boy's attention.
&n
bsp; "He is dead," Derrick said. "That's Robin. He took his place."
"The kid? I thought he was short."
"I suppose he grew up."
Hopkins grinned at the comic and shook his head. "Kid stuff." He dropped the comic back on the stack of papers. "So about those four glasses?" he asked, pinning Natasha with a glare.
"The fourth one belongs to my Auntie Lin," Natasha said. She couldn't even breathe. The words came out barely above a whisper. She added hurriedly, "You met her at the Space Station."
"Your Auntie Lin, huh?" Hopkins sucked air through his teeth. "If only we could all have an Auntie Lin." He snapped his fingers. "Phillips, search the trailer and let me know when you find him."
"Yes, Sir," said one of the soldiers, turning and heading down the hall, weapon leading the way.
Natasha moved to follow, but Hopkins held out his hand. She stopped and stared fearfully down the hall. All she could do was watch as the soldier searched the kitchen, opening the cabinets. He even checked the refrigerator and the oven, as if Metzger could somehow shrink himself.
When Phillips was done with the kitchen, he moved down the hall to the first bedroom and eased into it as if something deadly lay within.
She had to wonder herself where Metzger had gone. Had he escaped out a window? Was he hiding under one of the beds? The way the soldier was searching it seemed inevitable that Metzger would be caught. What would they do with him once they found him? Would they still turn him into a zombie or would they execute him on the spot?
The soldier cleared one bedroom and headed for the next, which Natasha had claimed as her own, then came to a locked door: Auntie Lin's room.
Phillips called out to the other soldier, who joined him at the door. While the new soldier guarded the door, Phillips concluded his search by going through the master bedroom. An immense crash could have been the dresser going over. Natasha pictured her father's things scattered on the floor and crushed under booted heels. She frowned at Hopkins, who stared placidly into the distance.
When the soldiers met again at Auntie Lin's door, Hopkins pulled a radio from his back pocket and spoke into it, asking if there'd been any sign of Metzger. The reply was negative. He told them to keep watching, then shoved the radio back in his pocket, turned to Natasha and said, "Let's stop dicking around."