The pilot tried to land on the giant ‘H’ but aborted at the last minute when the people below did not clear enough room for a safe landing. Fearing harm to the masses, he lifted and flew over to the center of the oval exercise track. Even before the rotors stopped, five people came running at them. Although Lynda saw urgency in their faces, there was still the absence of a crazed mob. The greatest relief of all was seeing that nobody was armed.
Lynda opened her door and jumped to the ground. As she did, the leader of the welcoming committee yelled,
“Are you here to evacuate us? Where are the rest of the choppers?”
It was Joseph Mann, Whelan’s young security assistant. There was panic in his eyes. Although he seemed afraid, she again noted the lack of panic. Calmly she replied,
“No, I just came back from an assignment over at Roads End. What the hell is going on here?”
Because talking was difficult with the roar of the motor, he took Lynda by the arm and led her away from not only the chopper but the crowd as well. Professor Quagmire took on the persona of a lost puppy and followed. The pilot stayed at his position but was prepared to lift off at the first sign of trouble. If the crowd became unmanageable, his plan was to lift off and land on the other side of the fence. It might be safer but farther from the fuel depot.
When the rotors went silent and the pilot could hear the chant of the crowd, he heard them yell at him, “Are you here to evacuate us?” “Where are the rest of the choppers?” It was then that he remembered seeing a long convoy of trucks on the road to Deep Lab 6. Thinking that they were the evacuation team he announced to the crowd,
“There are trucks coming maybe thirty minutes away.”
This seemed to appease the crowd and they slowly walked away from the chopper to continue with mumblings of what could have gone wrong.
Once out of sight of the crowd Joseph Mann stopped pulling Lynda by the arm, turned and asked,
“Do you recognize me? I am the assistant to Chief Security Officer Whelan Christianson?”
“Yes,” she said and immediately began wondering why Whelan had not met her. She asked,
“Where is Officer Christianson? What’s going on here?”
Joseph explained,
“Officer Christianson returned from a meeting at Fort Lincoln about three hours ago. All I know is that he requested an emergency meeting with General Irsthill immediately upon arriving. A few minutes later the evacuation alarms sounded and we all followed procedure and surfaced.”
“Has there been a contamination leak in the lab?”
“Not to my knowledge but something strange is going on down there for sure. Just after the evacuation alarm sounded and an all clear was posted, the General sealed off the lab. For some reason all access codes have been deleted. None of us can swipe the door open anymore. Even my Apple Jack security level was wiped clean.”
She scanned the crowd again. Everybody seemed well enough. Nobody was apparently in dire need of medical attention. She asked,
“Have you requested air support for the evacuation?”
“No, that’s just it, we can’t contact anybody. All frequencies are jammed by something I do not know anything about. As far as I know, nobody on the outside knows about the forced lab evacuation.”
“Well somebody knows something because we saw a convoy of army trucks approaching.”
With that information, Joseph left and started spreading what he thought to be good news.
With the Professor in tow, Lynda walked toward her apartment. Although she knew these surroundings were new to him, she wondered why he did not show a little more interest to where he was. Even with the full assemblage of scientists above ground, he seemed nonplused, content simply to follow her. She let it pass as a mind enthralled with matters of science and calculations that nobody else understood.
Once at the door to the apartment complex she heard a friendly voice calling her. She turned around to Doctor Raymond Nelson running toward them with arms waving. Out of breath he struggled with the words,
“Am I ever glad to see you. Do you have any idea what is going on?”
“No Raymond, I was hoping you could tell me.”
With a dismissive wave of his hands he said,
“No honey, not a clue. All I know is that nobody is getting down to the lab. The silo elevator has been locked out.”
Suddenly he noticed the Professor and his mop of wild hair. He produced a repulsive expression and asked,
“Who is this man who needs a chainsaw to his hair?”
Attempting to look more conventional, the Professor impulsively ran both hands through is hair. She made the introductions.
“Doctor Raymond Nelson, may I introduce the greatest mind in theoretical quantum physics today. This is the distinguished Professor Quagmire from Roads End Institute. He is here to help solve the mystery of the leaking anti-matter.”
Just as Raymond was extending his hand as a greeting, the Professor blurted out,
“Is this the man with the bell?”
The strange change of subject greatly confused Raymond. Lynda said to the Professor,
“Yes Professor, this is the man who has the bell.”
At this point, Raymond was seriously thinking about withdrawing his hand to protect it. Because this was the man he wanted to meet, the Professor quickly reached out and shook the offered hand.
To Raymond’s chagrin, the handshake was much longer than necessary. Accepting the befuddled minds of geniuses, he thought perhaps the Professor was not aware that it was supposed to be a short handshake. Quizzically the captured Raymond looked to Lynda and said,
“My, my, what a delightful sort.”
The Professor than asked,
“Where is the bell you hang over the door in your infirmary?”
Not understanding the Professor’s enthusiasm for such a trivial thing, Raymond’s reply was bland,
“Down in the infirmary of course.”
Lynda stared at the handshake and wondered why the Professor accepted Raymond’s greeting but back at Roads End he would not shake hers. Nonetheless, Lynda was pleased that Raymond took a liking to the Professor. She grinned and said,
“I’m glad you like him Raymond for I need your help in certain matters. Come in and get better acquainted.”
All three walked up the stairs to her apartment.
Once inside Lynda casually threw her coat on the sofa and Raymond impulsively dashed for it. He wanted to hang it in the closet but restraint prevailed and he stopped. On her way to the kitchen she said to Raymond,
“While I prepare the tea will you be a dear and remove the Professor’s jacket for him.”
Although willing to comply, he was very surprised at the request. Yelling into the kitchen, he asked,
“Is there something wrong that he can’t do it himself?”
As she plugged in the kettle, she yelled back,
“Yes there is. He is what you might refer to as an autistic savant. He cannot even feed himself let alone drink the tea I am preparing. Would you be a dear and help there as well?”
When Lynda peeked around the corner, she noticed that Raymond was at least considering helping. With a hand to his chin, he eyed the innocent Professor up and down. Finally, he said,
“I mean aside from having an extremely bad hair day he looks somewhat presentable enough. Looking after him certainly wouldn’t come close to anything disgusting like having to comb his hair or anything like that, right?”
When she slithered back into the kitchen, she softly whispered,
“Just wait till he finishes his cup of tea and see how disgusting it gets.”
Raymond helped the Professor with his tea and with a napkin wiped away what did not make it into the mouth. Looking at her watch she suddenly bolted alert and hurried to the kitchen. After filling a glass with tap water, she returned with it. Digging deep into her purse, she said,
“I forgot about the Professor’s medicine. I promised his Nu
rse I would make sure he got it on time.”
Handing the pill bottle to Raymond, she grinned like a Cheshire cat and said,
“Be a dear?”
Raymond took the vial and prepared to shove a pill into the Professor’s mouth. However, when he refused to open up, Raymond looked to Lynda for a solution. She remembered the game and said,
“Come on Professor, the nice man has a comet for the big black hole. Open wide.”
In spite of the game, there was no way the big black hole was going to open wide. His lips remained locked tight.
Lynda saw that Raymond was losing patience. She did not need that happening just yet. Because there were far worse things the Professor was not capable of doing on his own, she was desperate not to let Raymond lose interest in helping her. Lynda blurted out one of her many mysterious Australian idioms.
“Bummer.”
Confused, Raymond looked at her and fearfully asked,
“This is an oral pill, right?”
She wondered where such a disgusting question came from. Of course it was. Ignoring his question, she continued,
“There is no way he’s going to swallow that damn thing. Let’s just leave it for now.”
Raymond was all too willing to give up. His second puzzlement came when she looked at the Professor and asked,
“Do you have to go to the bathroom or anything like that Professor?”
The stunned Raymond snapped to Lynda and demanded,
“What are you asking him that for?”
“Well, I thought as long as you are here you could assist him in other things he cannot do by himself.”
Raymond was disgusted and blurted out,
“Are you telling me he can’t even go to the bathroom by himself?”
She tried her best to act casual. After all, they are both doctors. Shrugging her shoulders she pretended indifference and coyly said,
“So what’s the big deal? You can help him can’t you?”
“You’re telling me he can’t even wipe his own ass?”
Professor produced a coy grin and with a surprisingly lucid voice declared,
“So who’s the stupid one now, me for getting somebody else to do it, or you for doing it?”
Suddenly both their jaws dropped. The Professor added,
“I can look after myself quite well thank you.”
Stunned, Lynda said,
“So it was all a sham? You are not as mentally challenged as you pretend to be?”
Shaking his head, he said,
“No, it was just a way of conforming to my surroundings. It gave me better freedom to move about in the institution. I was able to find another faking the same way. I believe you met Professor Eldridge.”
There was a tinge of rudeness in Lynda’s response.
“Oh yes, the lone survivor of the Philadelphia Experiment I believe.”
The Professor took affront to her flippant rebuke.
“Yes, he is a member of my group. Some of us banded together and agreed that conformity to our diagnosis could best be served if they did not know we had recovered. At least we know what we are doing over there. When it comes to whatever is going on in your lab, clearly your scientists have no understanding of it at all.”
Raymond wondered what that was all about. It didn’t help when the Professor turned to him and added,
“I and some comrades over in that joke of an institute for the brilliantly insane are nothing in this world but goldfish sticking our heads out of the water and wondering what is beyond our world. We are searching for a way to leave the tank.”
Raymond’s look to Lynda conveyed it all, hopeless puzzlement. She simply shrugged her shoulders and tried to explain,
“Apparently we all live in a fish tank.”
She then turned and walked away, saying,
“Well, just because you too don’t feel the call of nature I do. I presume you will excuse me for a minute.”
As she left the room, the Professor looked over his shoulder and called out to her,
“If you need a hand be sure to call for the Doctor, I’m sure he’ll be more than glad to help.”
Nobody saw the disgusting look on Raymond’s face. Just as Lynda was making her dash to the bathroom, she happened to look at her computer screen. It was flashing the phrase, ‘You have a message.’ Suddenly forgetting the urgency, thinking it was from her daughter, she diverted to the computer and said out loud,
“It’s about time you little hussy.”
“Raymond called back,
“Yes?”
She leaned over the keyboard and accessed her messages. When the message came on the screen, she stood up and quizzically stared at it. It was not a message from her delinquent daughter after all. At least she did not think so. Puzzled, she called Raymond over and the Professor followed. Draped in confusion, all three stared at the screen.
‘Will turn off in trade for pilot’.
Lynda blurted out,
“What pilot?”
Raymond asked,
“Turn what off?”
It quickly dawned on Lynda that Raymond had no idea about the anti-matter leak in the Lab and explained it to him. Not listening, the Professor stared at the screen. Lost to some mysterious calculation only geniuses are capable of understanding, he started to nod and took on a strange look.
Chapter 24
General Irsthill was sitting at his desk leaning back in his chair with feet up on the desk. He does not care that he is scratching the top of his valued hand finished desk with his heels. He was gushing forth a rather uncharacteristic grin. For some reason, he was pleased with himself and sat twirling a revolver through his fingers. There was an excitement in his tone. He bellowed into the phone,
“Yes, it has finally gotten big enough for a sacrifice. There is no doubt about it. Mark my words it is the gate we have been looking for. Governor Sheltie is already on his way with the angel of the Under World and Congressman Tait is bringing ‘the other of man’ to be sacrificed right now.”
Something was said on the other end of the phone but he was not listening and did not care. Scanning his office, his eyes widened when seeing a half empty bottle over on top of the filing cabinet. Closing one eye, he took careful aim and slowly squeezed the trigger. The bullet shattered the bottle sending shards of glass and liquor through the office.
As the smoke and smell was sucked up through the ventilation fans he bellowed a haughty laugh and said to the phone,
“That my friend announces the end of drinking that foul rot gut on this earth. I assume there might be a better gaff where we are going.”
There was a pause and this time he listened intently. Finally, defensively he bellowed,
“No I am not drunk. Maybe drunk with ecstasy and with any luck that will never go away.”
Again, he listened.
“No, I’ve already contacted him. I told you, everybody except you has prepared and is on the way. It is just you now. I tried to get hold of you earlier but you were at that bloody meeting with the ASC.”
Again, he mischievously searched his office for something else to shoot. His eyes stopped on the large flower vase over by the door and smirked. He took careful aim and again the deafening boom echoed off the walls and the smell of Sulphur permeated his nostrils. Vase shards, water and flowers scattered to all four directions. A maniacal laughter burst forth followed by,
“Of course I’m all right. It is just that what we have worked for all these years is now at hand so forgive me if I act a little excited. How long before you can get here?”
It was obvious that he was not happy to hear the response. He closed one eye and took aim at his big toe on his right foot. After convincing himself that he could not miss, he returned the revolver to his lap.
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