Infusion: Diffusion Book 2

by Stan C. Smith

  As soon as they were on their way and had adjusted to the noise of the engines, Gregory spoke. “I’m from Boston University, but I regularly work with the International Environmental Rapid Assessment Program. We’ve been conducting a survey of the Mamberamo River Basin for a few years now. I happened to be at the airport when your call came in.”

  Mr. Darnell introduced all of them.

  Gregory looked at them and waited, like he expected more. “What exactly happened to you folks?”

  Mr. Darnell gave him the same story he had given Obert, including the lie about Samuel getting lost from his research camp and helping them out.

  “I haven’t heard about a field biologist going missing,” Gregory said to Samuel. “What project are you with?”

  “My story is more complicated than that, I am afraid,” Samuel said. “I have no wish to deceive you, sir, and so I must ask that you do not inquire further.”

  Gregory looked from one of them to the next. He let out a long whistle and then spoke aloud to himself, “Stamper, what have you gotten yourself into now.” He shook his head. “I have to be honest with you people. I’ve been with you only twenty minutes and I can see something is out of whack. The folks at the airport are already suspicious, and I can confidently say it’s going to get worse when you arrive. They say they have no knowledge of any missing planes. Plane wrecks are normally big news around here.” He gave them a serious look. “Do you hear what I’m saying, folks?”

  “How can they not know our plane is missing?” Mrs. Darnell said.

  “No idea,” Gregory said. “Listen, I know what happens to people who are lost in the bush with no first aid supplies and no tent to keep the insects off. You people look to be perfectly healthy. Personally, I don’t care what you’re up to. But the Indonesian security personnel you are about to face—I promise you they care. You seem like good people. If there’s something you’re hiding, maybe I can help.”

  The hum of the engines seemed to get louder as he waited.

  “We have to tell him,” Bobby said.

  Mr. Darnell shook his head. “We land in lass than half an hour. How can we explain?”

  “We don’t have to explain,” Bobby said. “Addison can show him.”

  “He’s right, Quentin,” Mrs. Darnell said. “We have no choice. Bobby, you talk to Addison.” She turned to Gregory. “Mr. Stamper, we have something to tell you. It’s important—more important than you can imagine. We have to bypass the red tape in Sentani and board a flight to the United States immediately.”

  Gregory frowned. “Ma’am, that’s not likely to happen.”

  Bobby turned his back to them. “Addison, we need Gregory to know what you are, and we need him to know right now. Can you help?”

  Briefly, Addison’s eyes shifted to golden yellow. “Yes,” he said. Without another word, he unbuckled his seatbelt and got up. He held something out to Gregory. “This is a gift,” he said. “You should eat it.”

  Gregory looked surprised. “Thank you, son, but I’m not hungry.”

  “It will not harm you,” Addison said. “If you eat it, you will understand.”

  “What is it, a drug? You guys aren’t in some kind of cult are you?”

  “It’s not a drug,” Mr. Darnell said. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, but we have found something.” He put his hand on Addison’s shoulder. “This boy is not what he seems to be. Look, there just isn’t an easy way to explain it. But you must understand how important it is that we get him to the United States. We can’t tell you; we have to show you. If you eat that, you will see.”

  Gregory let out a nervous laugh. “You want me to eat it?”

  “Gregory, please look at me,” Mrs. Darnell said. When he turned to her, she went on. “I give you my word. It will not harm you, and you will not regret it. Please.”

  Gregory took the thing from Addison. “If this makes me sick, I’m having all of you locked up in Jayapura.” He popped it in his mouth, chewed a few times, and swallowed.

  “Do not be afraid,” Addison said, and he returned to his seat.

  For a few minutes Gregory just looked at them. Then his face went blank. Suddenly he moaned and folded up, dropping his head onto the seat next to him.

  The pilot on the left side of the cockpit leaned his head through the door to the cabin and shouted in Indonesian at Gregory, who didn’t answer. The pilot called someone on his radio while the other rose from his seat and moved to Gregory’s side. He shook Gregory and spoke to him. Gregory’s hand shot up and pushed the pilot away.

  “He’ll be fine,” Mrs. Darnell said.

  The pilot ignored her and remained by Gregory’s side. For some minutes Gregory just lay there, curled up in the two seats. The plane began to descend. They were approaching Sentani.

  Bobby turned to Addison, “It’s going to be too late.”

  Addison pointed forward and Bobby turned back around. Gregory was sitting up, his eyes wide, tears streaming down his face.

  Mrs. Darnell said, “Are you okay?”

  His eyes darted to her. “Hell no! Do you have any idea what I’ve seen?”

  “What the rest of us have seen, I assume,” she said. “The planet where it was created, and how it got here. And we hope you saw something about why it is here and what it can do.”

  The plane dropped lower, approaching the airport. Gregory persuaded the pilot to return to the cockpit, and then he asked bursts of questions. Between the questions, he held his head in his hands and spoke to himself, saying things like “Stamper, you’re going to wake up,” or “Just breath, Stamper.” At one point, he said to Addison, “Do you understand me?”

  Addison smiled. “Yes.”

  “When we land, there will be questions,” Gregory said. “I think you are going to have to show them what you showed me.”

  Bobby gripped his seat and closed his eyes as the plane dropped to the runway. But the landing was smooth. Before the plane even stopped rolling he looked out his window and saw men approaching. Some wore white shirts with ties, but others were Indonesian police with brown uniforms and guns on their belts. There was no way all these men would agree to eat chunks of Addison’s body.

  The pilots lowered the door, and then the men were waiting for them just outside. Gregory’s hands were shaking, and he wouldn’t stop talking to himself. It didn’t look like he would be much help.

  One of the white-shirt men boarded the plane. “My name is Natsir Santoso, of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I am told you people are survivors of an accident. Is this correct?”

  “That’s true,” Mr. Darnell said. “Our plane crashed on its flight from Wamena on July twelfth. We would like an immediate flight to the United States.”

  The man frowned. “Of course you will be transferred to your original destination. But there are protocols that must be followed.”

  Gregory spoke up. “Mr. Santoso, could I have a few minutes alone with these folks? They have suffered a terrible ordeal and their situation is, um, very complex. I was just making progress with them when we landed.”

  Santoso’s frown grew even deeper. “Mr. Stamper, my understanding is that you are not trained in trauma counseling. These people must talk to qualified professionals.”

  There had to be some way to convince these men to help them get home, or at least to buy some time to come up with a better plan. Suddenly Bobby had an idea. He turned to Addison and spoke quietly.

  “There’s something I want you to do.”

  Quentin could almost smell the tension in the cabin. An Indonesian security guard entered the plane and stood by the hatch, his presence menacing. Quentin stood up. “Mr. Santoso, please try to understand. We have lost three of our students, and we’ve survived in the wilderness for ten days. Gregory here understands our situation and our distress. We wish to speak with him and only him at this time.”

  The man’s expression did not change. “We do not wish to appear unsympathetic. Of course Mr. Stamper may remain with y
ou. But there are some discrepancies we are trying to resolve. We have no records of a carrier missing en route from Wamena. It is important we understand the source of our faulty data. You will all come with us now. You will receive proper clothing and food.”

  Suddenly Bobby cried out, “He’s hurt! Can’t you see that? We need to get him to a hospital now!”

  It was Addison. He had a huge gash on his left shoulder and arm. The flesh had been torn away and the humerus bone was visible, looking strangely white and clean amidst the surrounding blood and torn tissue. Blood flowed freely from the wound and covered his lap.

  Gregory gasped. “What the hell?”

  “He needs a hospital now!” Bobby said.

  Santoso’s face changed to alarm. “Mr. Stamper, I understood there were no injuries.”

  Gregory stammered, “Yes, well, this boy clearly needs medical attention.”

  Quentin looked at Bobby, and their eyes met. “What’s going on, Bobby?”

  “Don’t you see? We have to get Addison to a hospital right now!”

  Quentin understood. It was crazy, but now there was no turning back.

  Lindsey caught on, too. “We need you to take us to a hospital, and we demand to see an American doctor. We’re wasting time!”

  A few minutes later a woman who apparently had EMT training hurriedly wrapped Addison’s wound, and then they were in a minibus on their way to a hospital in Waena on the outskirts of Jayapura. Santoso and his security men followed closely behind. Bobby had managed to buy them more time, but Quentin had no idea what to do next.

  Gregory had gone along with the ruse of Addison’s injury, but now his confusion was catching up to him. As the bus turned onto the Jalan Sentani Chimera, the road to Jayapura, he said, “Alright, what the hell is going on? He’s not really hurt, is he?” He nodded at Addison, who was now bandaged from shoulder to elbow.

  The EMT had not spoken any English, so Quentin assumed she didn’t understand, but Gregory’s tone obviously concerned her.

  “I asked him to do that,” Bobby said, as if this explained everything.

  This was not how Quentin had pictured things going. He had hoped they might simply convince the Indonesians to let them fly immediately to the United States.

  Gregory continued, “But it looks real. The blood—”

  Quentin held up his hand. “We can’t waste any more time. We need to figure out what we’re going to do.” He turned to Gregory. “Do you have a cell phone?”

  Gregory closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. This is happening so fast. Yes, I have a phone.” He pulled his smartphone from his pocket.

  “Can you call the U.S. from here?”

  “Generally, yes.” Gregory kept looking at Addison as if worried he might disappear.

  Quentin snapped his fingers in Gregory’s face, the same way he would with a distracted eighth grader. “Do you agree with us that this discovery,” he nodded at Addison, “should be taken to the U.S.?”

  “I have no idea what to do with it!” Gregory held one hand to his cheek, covering one eye. “Yes! Yes, I suppose that’s the thing to do.”

  “Then please make a call to the States. To anyone who can help us.”

  Gregory ran his hand over his eye and into his hair. “Phil, Stamper. Call Phil.” He punched some buttons on the device and then stopped. “Country code. Oh God…”

  “Zero zero one,” Lindsey said. She glanced at Quentin.

  Gregory finished dialing and waited. A moment later he sat up straight. “Phil. Gregory Stamper here. Can you hear me?” A pause. “No, no, I’m still in Jayapura. Please listen to me carefully, Phil. Something big has happened. I’m going to ask you to trust me, because I don’t have time to elaborate. I’m with some Americans now. They have found something that is monumentally important. It’s a matter of national—no, global security.” Another pause. “No, not a nuke—much bigger than that. I’m asking you to trust me, Phil. I simply cannot explain. We’re on our way to the hospital in Waena. We need help from the American government.” A pause. “That’s right. We have to get them to put us on a flight to the U.S. now. Yes, now.” A longer pause. “I swear to God this is real, Phil. Thank you. I’ll contact you again as soon as I can.” Gregory cut off the call and pocketed the smartphone. “Phil Bollinger is the head of my department. He has a lot of connections, so he’ll contact someone who can help.”

  “I want to call my parents,” Ashley said. “Gregory, can I use your phone?”

  Gregory looked at Quentin and Lindsey.

  Quentin felt a sudden wave of apprehension. He started to protest but couldn’t come up with a reason that he thought would sound rational. Instead he shrugged.

  Gregory punched the screen into cell phone mode, entered the country code again, and handed it to Ashley. “Just the area code and the number.”

  Ashley appeared surprised that her request actually worked. With white knuckles she tapped out her number. The seconds passed, and a lump grew in Quentin’s throat. He turned to stare out the window. They were now passing by shanties instead of unbroken forest. They were entering Jayapura.

  Ashley stiffened. She’d gotten through. Then her shoulders slumped. “Voice mail,” she said.

  A moment later she left a message. “Hey, guys. It’s me, Ash. I know you’ve been worried to death, but I’m okay. We’re still in Papua, but we’re coming home.” She paused as if considering how much to say. “And also, we’re bringing something with us. It’s something important, like the most important thing ever. I just thought you should know. I love you guys. See you soon.”

  She hung up and gave Gregory the phone.

  “I understand what you say.” It was the EMT. She glared directly at Gregory. “You are trying to hide something.”

  Gregory looked stunned. “Ma’am, we just want to get to the United States.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You talk about taking something with you. Are you stealing something from us?”

  “No, it’s not like that. You can see we have no possessions.” Gregory looked to the others for help.

  Lindsey spoke up. “It’s actually Addison, the boy you are treating.” She rose from her seat and kneeled in the aisle next to Addison and the EMT. “What is your name?”

  The woman eyed Lindsey and her features softened slightly. “I am Arina Rohadi.”

  “Arina, this is Addison. He found something in the forest. It must be something he ate, or something he touched. But whatever it was, it had an amazing effect on him. His body heals very quickly when he is hurt. Very quickly.” Lindsey spoke to Addison: “If we remove your bandages, do you think your wound could be all gone by now?”

  “Yes, if that is what you would like.”

  Lindsey tilted her head toward Addison. “Arina, go ahead and remove his wrap.”

  The EMT looked from her to Addison and back. “You play a game?”

  Addison began unwrapping the wound himself.

  “Let me do that!” Arina snatched the unwrapped portion from his hand. She spoke rapid Indonesian as she unwrapped the wound, perhaps cursing. As she peeled away the last layer, she suddenly stopped talking. Addison’s wound was gone. Even the blood was gone, although the bandaging was stained red. Arina ran her hand over Addison’s arm, pressing the flesh between her fingers. “You play a game?” she said again, much louder this time. “I saw this lesion. I touched it!”

  “This is what I meant,” Lindsey said. “Addison’s body has been changed by something he found in the forest. Whatever it was, it is still out there. We don’t want to steal it. We just want to get Addison safely home. The United States has well-equipped research facilities. You know that, right?”

  The woman was trembling. “We must find the source. To find it we need your help.” She touched Addison’s arm again, as if she couldn’t trust her eyes. “Yes, this is important.”

  The minibus came to a stop. They were at the hospital, a low two-story building with a slanted red roof. It resembled an Ameri
can motel one might see along any interstate highway.

  Without warning, the EMT bolted. She threw open the door and ran directly to the minibus that was pulling up behind them. As Santoso and the others piled out, she accosted them, waving her hands as she spoke.

  Samuel sighed loudly. “That young woman’s reaction, I fear, is what we must expect from those we encounter. I must say, Lindsey, you told an impressive story. Let us hope it has the desired effect.”

  “Listen, everyone,” Quentin said. “We all stick with Lindsey’s story. Addison ate something in the forest that makes him heal quickly. Addison is a real person. He’s our son, and we just want to get him and ourselves home. Is that clear?” There were nods all around. The driver watched them in his mirror but showed no sign that he understood.

  Santoso and several of his guards walked to the door of the minibus. He leaned in. “Let me see the boy’s injury,” he said, dropping all pretenses of being cordial. He moved to where Addison sat and looked closely at his shoulder. He turned him roughly and looked at the other shoulder and then straightened up. “You told me that this boy was injured. I had no reason to doubt you, and it appeared to be so. But I see that he is not hurt after all. Miss Rohadi is hysterical. She seems convinced that you have found a medical miracle in the bush. You have said that you were involved in an airline accident, and yet we have no information about a missing carrier. We have contacted the Los Angeles International Airport, and they informed us that there has been no group of passengers missing on return flights from Jakarta.”

  Santoso paused, letting this sink in. “You people puzzle me. I have seen foreigners smuggling narcotics. I have seen men who buy airline tickets for our young women, with the intent of selling them into slavery. Once I talked to a woman attempting to leave here with three infant children. She claimed that she gave birth to triplets while on holiday here. Such is the world today.” He looked at Addison. “Now I will have a new story to tell, no?”

  Santoso gazed out the minibus window at the hospital. “But first we must understand. There will be questions. Trust me when I say that it is in your best interest to answer them with truth. Our doctors will examine you, to be sure that you do not carry malaria or other diseases. And then, when we fully understand your situation—but certainly not before then—we will make a decision about the next course of action.” He flashed a seemingly genuine smile. “Let us hope that involves sending you to your home country.”