Infusion: Diffusion Book 2

by Stan C. Smith

  To say that Quentin and his new family were involved in this transfer was an overstatement. Peter and his most trusted employees had done everything. All Quentin had to do was reveal the specific location of the Lamotelokhai, which he had already done this afternoon. Bobby would contact it and tell it about the move. The Lamotelokhai would change itself into the form of a human being, walk out of Room 4 of the Economy Inn, ride in a company van to the new facility, and walk past the unsuspecting employees into its new home. By necessity there were three employees at the facility who knew the truth. The remaining three hundred had no idea the place would serve such a world-altering purpose.

  Ashley had just come in from working the horses. She sniffed the air. “This place hasn’t smelled this good since the last time you were here, Peter.”

  Lindsey made a face. “Thanks, Ash.”

  “Not that I’m complaining. What girl wouldn’t love to eat rice and beans a hundred different ways?”

  Peter chuckled. “Besides the cooking, are your folks here giving you a fair go?”

  This reference to Quentin and Lindsey as her folks seemed to throw Ashley a bit. She exchanged glances with Bobby. “Yeah, actually they are.”

  Dinner was ready. Shortly they were seated and digging in.

  Ashley spoke around a mouthful of food. “Peter, next time you come you should bring Rose. We miss seeing her.”

  Peter frowned, a rare expression for him. “Rose is not feeling so well.” He shifted in his seat, obviously finding the topic difficult. “Rose and I both are eighty-three, did you know that?”

  “I’m sorry she’s not well,” Ashley said.

  Peter shook his head. “No worries, Ash. It’s a funny thing—I have no need of medicines, but there are no medicines that can help her.”

  The rest of them were silent while Peter looked at his plate.

  Finally, he said, “I hope you folks don’t mind this, but when I meet the Lamotelokhai face-to-face, I have a favor to ask of it.”

  Lindsey reached across the table and put her hand on Peter’s. “Yes, you should do that, Peter.”

  A brown shape suddenly sprang from the floor and crashed onto the table, spilling a pitcher of water.

  Lindsey lit into the tree kangaroo, “Get your sorry carcass off the table!”

  Bobby jumped up and scooped Mbaiso into his arms. “I forgot to put him out!” He went to the screen door and dumped the creature into the yard. Quentin heard him say, “I’ll bring you a salad when we’re done.”

  “Why does that thing need to eat?” Ashley said. “It’s not even real.”

  Bobby sat back down. “That’s how it gets energy. Just like you, only different.”

  She snorted. “Okay, now I understand.”

  Bobby went on, as he tended to do. “The real Mbaiso used to eat, too. This one’s just a copy, but I guess it works the same way.”

  Ashley used her fork to push some food around on her plate. “Well, that’s something we have in common. We’re all just copies.”

  Mbaiso had been in trouble several times recently, so Quentin changed the subject for Bobby’s sake. “So Peter, you feel like everything’s ready for the transfer?”

  “My team is standing by. I just need your final blessing.”

  “I want to go with you to pick it up,” Bobby said.

  Peter looked at Quentin and Lindsey. “I have no objection to that. It might facilitate communication, Bobby being the thing’s mate.”

  Quentin could think of a dozen reasons why this was a bad idea; primarily, the hassles that might ensue if people recognized him. Bobby was not a fugitive—the FBI had finally given up their questioning—but their privacy here depended on the deception Peter had created regarding their whereabouts. The whole world believed them to be living in a secure residence within Peter’s SouthPacificNet corporate campus. If Bobby were spotted in North America, he’d be hounded by reporters, or worse. But upon reflection, the other reasons had to do with Quentin’s fear of letting Bobby out of his sight.

  Finally he said, “If you can make sure he won’t be recognized, I suppose he could go.”

  Ashley dropped her fork. “I’m going too! Do you know how long we’ve been stuck here, Peter?”

  “She’s right,” Lindsey said. “Maybe they’ll better appreciate what they have here if they go on a trip.”

  Quentin threw up his hands.

  Peter grinned. “That settles it. You two are assigned to a secret mission. But I’m leaving here in one hour. If you can’t be packed and ready, you’re not fit for such a mission.”

  This is how it came to be that Quentin and Lindsey found themselves alone in the house for the first time in months. The occasion was not squandered. Later that night they lay together in the screened living room, catching their breath. They held each other without speaking, listening to the insects and frogs that had lived on the banks of the Sittee River since long before humans had set foot in this part of the world.

  Just as it always happened in the last quiet moments of the day, Quentin’s thoughts turned to the forest of Papua, and the life-altering trials that had occurred there. But he would not speak these thoughts. Everything that could be said had been said far too many times. Lindsey had found a way to move forward, at least on the outside. Sometimes Quentin was awakened in the night by her stifled sobs. But she would never talk about it, and in the mornings she would be a role model of composure and vivacity for all of them.

  Finally, Lindsey’s breathing let Quentin know she had found sleep, and he hoped it would be free of dreams. Peter had promised that the Lamotelokhai would occasionally teach them more about its creators through visions as they slept, but so far this had not happened. When they did come, those dreams would be welcome. For now, all others were silently feared.

  Quentin allowed Lindsey’s rhythm to draw him away from awareness. As he descended, he pushed away the image that would forever visit him at this fading moment: a dark figure moving like a ghost through endless trees.

  “Quentin, it’s the sat phone.”

  Lindsey shook him awake. This time Quentin heard the chirping device Peter had given them. It was an unfamiliar sound, because Peter was the only one who had the number. Actually, that wasn’t quite true. There was one other.

  “Why would Peter call so soon?” Lindsey asked. “Something has to be wrong.”

  Quentin pushed himself off the mattress they had placed on the floor and stumbled to the phone. “Hello. Peter?”

  “Greetings, Quentin. It is a pleasure to hear your voice, but rather unsettling that you are not before me as we speak.”

  Quentin knew the voice, the accent. “Samuel? Is that you?”

  “It is indeed, thanks to the help of our good friend, Obert.”

  Quentin wondered if he were dreaming. He had asked Peter to arrange delivery of one of his newly developed satellite phones to Obert in the village of Navera, where they had radioed for a rescue plane. It was a long shot, but if Samuel somehow made his way back to Navera, he would have the opportunity to contact them. Besides Peter, Obert was the only other person on the planet who could call this phone.

  Quentin punched the speaker button and set the phone down so Lindsey could hear. He said, “Samuel, it’s great to hear that you’re well! When the Indonesians took you away, we feared the worst.”

  Samuel chuckled. “Yes, of course. There was that. I informed those people that I would guide them to the place where we found the plant—the one they believed to hold the powers of healing.”

  “But Addison created that.”

  “Quite right. And upon entering the wilderness I gave it to them. And then it was a simple matter of waiting for my opportunity to escape. I fear, Quentin, that they failed to estimate my ability to outrun them.”

  Quentin smiled. “Well, you are surprisingly fit for a man your age.”

  Lindsey spoke up. “Hello, Samuel. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Lindsey, is that you? My goodness, th
is machine is truly a wonder!”

  “Well, you can thank Peter for that,” Quentin said. “Tell us, Samuel, what have you been doing all these months?”

  There was a pause, as if Samuel wasn’t sure he should answer. “I have returned to the village where you found me. The indigenes who remain there have been kind to me, and I like to believe that I can provide them with various services. Perhaps a day will come when I will be ready to venture to the outside world. But my brief exposure those months ago convinced me that it is not yet my time. Perhaps it will never be.”

  “We understand, Samuel,” Lindsey said. “We’ve also decided a simpler life is the best choice. But you are in Navera. It must have taken you days to travel there. Did you do that just to tell us you are alive and well?”

  This time there was a longer pause. “Actually, I have come here for a specific reason. There is something I must tell you.”

  They waited.

  “Your son Addison has returned to the village of my indigene hosts.”

  Quentin suddenly felt faint. “What did you say?”

  “He wishes to know where his mother and father are. It seems the mbolop have provided him with the assistance he has needed to survive.”

  Quentin could not manage to formulate a response. Lindsey seemed to be struggling as well.

  After a moment of silence, Samuel spoke again.

  “Quentin and Lindsey, you will scarcely believe what your son has been doing these past months.”

  Guide to the Dialogue of Sinanie’s Papuan Tribe

  First, I must say that I have the deepest respect for the unique cultures of the Papuan peoples. Obviously I have taken liberties in developing the characteristics of Sinanie’s tribe, but I intended no disrespect by doing so. I have also taken liberties in developing the crocodile cannibal tribe, the tree kangaroo hunters, and Obert’s village, although nearly all of their characteristics are based upon actual Papuan cultures.

  Compared to Book 1 (Diffusion), Book 2 (Infusion) contains relatively few native language phrases used by Sinanie’s tribe. The phrases used in Book 2 are provided below.

  I adapted this language from the amazing work of Gerrit J. van Enk and Lourens de Vries in their studies of the language and culture of the Korowai, a Papuan community of treehouse dwellers of southern Irian Jaya (now called Papua). Astoundingly, the Korowai had never come into contact with outsiders until the early 1980s.

  Papuan Dialogue from Book 2 (Infusion):

  1. mbayap (Penis gourd. Typically called a horim in Wamena)

  2. Nu ne khelép-té. Wolakholol be-lembu-té-n-da. (It is clear to me. The world will not get out of order.)

  3. Mbakha-lekhé-nggolo? Nokhu be-khelép-telo-n-din-da! (Why? We cannot know!)

  4. Nggé, gu mbakha-to-fosü le-bo? (Friend, Where have you come from?)

  I am thankful for the hard work of those who have painstakingly researched the cultures, wildlife, and ecosystems of Papua. The following are recommended books (and one video).

  Flannery, Tim. Mammals of New Guinea. Chatswood, New South Wales: Reed Books Australia, 1995. Print.

  Flannery, Tim. Throwim Way Leg: Tree Kangaroos, Possums, and Penis Gourds – On the Track of Unknown Mammals in Wildest New Guinea. New York: Atlantic Monthly Press, 1998. Print.

  Marriott, Edward. The Lost Tribe – A Harrowing Passage into New Guinea’s Heart of Darkness. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1996. Print.

  Merrifield, William, Gregerson, Marilyn, and Ajamiseba, Daniel, Ed. Gods, Heroes, Kinsmen: Ethnographic Studies from Irian Jaya, Indonesia. Jayapura, Irian Jaya: Cenderawasih University, 1983. Print.

  Muller, Kal. New Guinea: Journey Into the Stone Age. Lincolnwood, Illinois: Passport Books, 1997. Print.

  Souter, Gavin. New Guinea: The Last Unknown. New York: Taplinger Publishing, 1966. Print.

  Van Enk, Gerrit J. and de Vries, Lourens. The Korowai of Irian Jaya – Their Language in its Cultural Context. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997. Print.

  Sky Above Mud Below. Dir. and Perf. Pierre-Dominique Gaisseau (organizer and leader) and Gerard Delloye (assistant leader). Lorimar Home Video, 1962. VHS.

  This is an amazing video filmed as it happened in 1959, when a group of explorers set out on a seven-month attempt to cross the jungles of Papua (then called Dutch New Guinea). Winner of the 1961 Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature.

  Please visit my website:

  http://www.stancsmith.com