Abominable

by Alan Nayes

  An idea suddenly struck her. How good was Goliath’s mind? Would he react at all? She’d showed gorillas and chimps skulls of their own species in the past and got no reaction in return. One female gorilla actually used a plastic skull as a toy. So unhumanlike. Carefully setting the juvenile skull in a plastic bin, she carried it down the hall and a short flight of stairs to the holding cell. She found the glass viewing panel—earlier she’d been there when the wood was removed; the setup worked great—and stepped up to the transparent laminate.

  She found Goliath squatting near a pile of apples and yams and cabbages. Lightly she tapped the glass.

  “Goliath,” she spoke softly into the mic mounted beside the panel.

  The huge ape seemed to pause a moment, indicating he’d heard her. She repeated his name.

  Slowly his huge head swiveled on the massively thick neck, his white coat of hair sliding over the hulk-sized trapezius muscles. He stared directly at Shelby.

  She caught herself wanting to back away under his gaze. The pinkish brown of his conjunctiva reflected the artificial lighting and for just an instant she saw a flash of intense emotion, then just as quickly the primate’s expression turned bland. The sedatives at work. He stood and Shelby backed up a half step. God, you are a giant!

  He dropped the yam he’d been holding and ambled her way. Just when the huge primate’s bipedal steadiness began to surprise her, Goliath looked at her and seemed to falter.

  “Careful, Goliath,” Shelby said softly into the speaker. Even safely behind the two-inch bulletproof polycarbonate she found herself tempted to dash away.

  He stopped less than a foot away. If the glass hadn’t been there she could have reached up and touched his chest. She held out one palm in a submissive stance. “Don’t move, Goliath.” Slowly she turned and found the plastic bin. She lifted the skull. Of course he was sedated for the upcoming CT scan so no reaction would not be a total failure. However, any response toward the skull would be indicative of superior primate intelligence.

  “Goliath, look,” she coaxed. She positioned the skull high so the giant could see it, the orbit with the round hole facing the glass.

  She watched for any reaction. She was sure he could see it because his pair of eyes focused on the domed double crest. For just a second, she thought he was going to make an attempt to touch the bony remains.

  “Yes, Goliath,” she murmured, sensing a building anticipation.

  Any sense of success was quashed, though, when the giant primate simply ambled back to the food pile and picked up the dropped yam.

  Goliath associated nothing with the skull. No recollection whatsoever. Or worse, he didn’t care.

  Mildly disappointed, Shelby returned the skull to the bin and turned away. Before exiting the observation area, she cast one last look Goliath’s way.

  The huge ape had stopped eating and was watching her.

  CHAPTER 19

  John ordered the wine and once the waiter had poured it, he toasted Shelby. “To happy endings.” Their glasses clinked and both drank. He watched her tap her lips with a napkin. He’d forgotten how damn sexy she was—seeing her on the news was a far cry from observing her across a dining table. Shelby had suggested Tantalum Restaurant in Long Beach—good American cuisine as well as some Asian choices for variety and an exotic view of Marina Pacifica.

  Shelby’s skin glowed in the flickering candlelight. “Sweet and short.”

  “Hey, I’m a couple inches over six feet.”

  “But you are sweet.” She grinned. “No, the toast. ‘Happy endings.’”

  He waited until the waiter finished setting the dinner platters—both had ordered the Scottish salmon, miso soup, and a leafy green salad. “You’re relaxing. You seemed a little tense when I picked you up.”

  Shelby folded her hands in front of her chin. “I was that obvious?”

  He continued watching her. “So I told you about my conference.” He had, it had gone well, though discussing glaciers and subzero temps in San Diego in July was somewhat of a geographical anachronism. “Your turn.”

  She started in on the salmon. He noticed a trace of sadness in her expression. She began. “Any way I look at this whole situation, I don’t see it ending happily. I don’t know, John. Yes, Goliath is housed at the Center, but each day that goes by I feel him slipping away. Like Dr. Reddic says, we don’t own him, we are not in control. And he’s already cautioned me about making this ‘too personal.’”

  He wished he hadn’t said the damn toast now but he could see she wanted to discuss what was on her mind, and he was fine with this. “I remember you saying back in Eielson, how once you left Fairbanks with the Okpilak bones, you would be out of the loop. Damn, you were wrong on that. In fact, I think you’ve become ‘the loop.’ And I have to admit I could see it coming, barreling down the tracks like a runaway locomotive. The chemistry was perfect. Now the topic of Goliath doesn’t come up without a mention of Dr. Shelby Hollister. And Copper River only jettisoned the story into the stratosphere.” He raised his wine and took a long sip. “I’m proud of you. Oh, and Frank Mendle said hi.”

  Shelby gazed out the bay window at the beautiful yachts and sailboats a moment before finding John’s eyes. She reached across the tablecloth and took his hand, smiling. “Thank you, and tell the lieutenant hi. And for the record, I am not ‘the loop.’ Also for the record, that was not my last trip to Alaska.”

  “I hope it’s not. I still have to show you a great spot to see the Aurora Borealis.”

  “And where might that be?”

  “Fly into Fairbanks. I’ll pick you up. We have to hike there.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  While enjoying the delicious cuisine, John said, “So I know about the head CT scan tomorrow and Goliath’s family tree. How incredible is that. Tell me something that is not in the news.”

  “The Arctic Project?”

  John shook his head. “I had read something about a home for Goliath, but fill me in. I want to hear more.”

  Shelby motioned for a refill on her wine and John obliged. She started, “Well, Reddic and the LA Zoo engineers, with my input and Okpilak and Bagley Icefield photos, have come up with a plan to construct a mini-arctic on ten acres.”

  “Enclosed?”

  “It would have to be. Domed. We’re talking ice slabs, seracs, snow, running streams, muskeg bogs, tundra, the works, even a tiny glacier. Really pretty incredible and Reddic said funding won’t be an issue at the current pace. The final Arctic location is still pending, more than likely here in Los Angeles or in Virginia if NASA has their way.” Shelby shook her head. “Oh, here’s something I bet you didn’t know. Guess who just wrote a hundred-thousand-dollar check to the Center of Primatology.”

  John started. “Wow! A hundred Gs. That’s serious cash.”

  “Your climbing buddy, Rasheed Ahmen.”

  “I barely know him, never even spoke much while climbing Mount Vinson. What’s his angle?”

  “I think he wishes to buy Goliath. The Center appreciates his generosity but I do harbor some reservations. Regardless, any way you look at it, that giant primate is a real moneymaker.”

  John continued studying her wan expression. “Do I detect some restraint in your enthusiasm?”

  Shelby gazed down at her plate. “He won’t be free.”

  “Sure beats the hell out of being imprisoned thousands of years in an unidentified cylindrical object.”

  “True.” She bit at her lower lip. “I just wish there was some way he could be free. Really free.”

  This time John experienced Shelby’s gloom. “That can never be, Shelby. Goliath is too big, he’s too powerful, too famous, he’d kill someone or someone would kill him.”

  “I know. But…” She raised her wine glass. “Here’s to happy endings anyway.”

  Shelby lay in bed no closer to sleep than an hour earlier nearing midnight when she’d bid John good night after showing him
the guest room and where the extra blankets and the bathroom were. Her mind wouldn’t lie still. Everything from the big event tomorrow—Goliath’s CT scan—to the turn of events tonight over dinner. Not physically but, at least from Shelby’s perspective, emotionally. She’d enjoyed seeing John more than she’d anticipated she would. A lot more. She rolled over, facing the open window. The air on the gentle breeze carried the salty moisture from the Pacific. Most nights, the scent of the vast ocean acted as a soporific; not tonight.

  From down the hall, she heard some quiet activity. John was up and doing his best not to wake her. She smiled, hearing a chair move. It was the one by the dresser.

  She sat up, swinging her bare legs over the side of the bed. She pulled the long white cotton T-shirt—the only thing she was wearing—down far enough to cover her mid-thighs.

  Shelby tiptoed down the dark hall, casting a shadow as she passed the nightlight. The guest bedroom door was partially closed. She stepped up and peeked into the darkened bedroom. The bed lay empty.

  She could just make out the silhouette of his head by the open window. John sat in the chair facing the screen. The gentle sound of the waves from a block away carried over the rooftops. She stepped inside, causing a floorboard to squeak.

  He turned. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  She walked in and sat on the mattress. The sheets were warm. “No. Couldn’t sleep. You feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just never get much of a chance to listen to the Pacific. From where I sleep, you can hear ice fissuring, snow, when I’m outdoors, a glacier calving—but not the ocean.”

  Though she couldn’t see his face except in shadows, she could feel his eyes on her. What the hell. The words were out of her mouth before she realized she’d uttered them. “You can hear the waves a lot better from my bedroom.”

  Any hints of drowsiness left her when he stood and pulled her up and kissed her.

  Shelby felt more refreshed than she would have anticipated with so little sleep. They’d made love twice, once listening to the ocean, and a second time after her alarm went off at 6:30. She had no idea where the relationship would wind up, nor did he, she figured, but for now the contact—both physically and emotionally—sure felt damn good. She glanced in the rearview. His rental followed three cars back on the 405 freeway. His San Diego conference concluded, he’d decided to stay a few extra days and see what transpired with Goliath. He also wanted to see the great ape again. Who didn’t? The clamor for visitation tours was growing exponentially each day the giant was housed at the Center. Thus far, her decision to hold off was being followed but she wasn’t sure for how long. Goliath wasn’t ready for prime time with gawkers yelling and throwing peanuts at him; not by a long shot. She wasn’t sure he would ever be ready, though the way he was sedated twenty-four hours a day she guessed he could just lie there. The image only made her sad.

  The Center’s parking lot was mostly empty at this hour, though she noted several network news vans idling near the long medi-van the animal hospital used to transport large sedated mammals for imaging studies or pending surgeries. So much for keeping a lid on the CT scan. She pulled in and parked near the rear entrance next to the oversized hospital veterinary vehicle. When she spied Astor and Bonds speaking to a reporter, she guessed who’d originated the news leak. Reddic’s blue Mercedes sat in its customary reserved spot.

  The fact that both hospital veterinarians stood near the open rear doors of the van, one checking a cardiac monitor, while the other climbed in holding her stethoscope, struck her as so human-like. Goliath was getting the premium treatment, which allayed some of her earlier concerns. A pair of police cruisers were parked nearby and Shelby noticed five armed men with rifles patrolling the immediate area.

  She checked the time—8:10 a.m. The CT wasn’t scheduled for another two hours. She’d wanted to ensure Goliath was adequately sedated.

  John met up with her as a reporter trotted her way with a video cam in tow. “Dr. Hollister, what do you expect to find with Goliath’s CT scan?”

  Shelby feigned a pleasant smile. “I’m hoping we find nothing except a healthy brain. I anticipate that will be the result.”

  “Why was the test ordered?”

  “I didn’t order it.” Shelby moved to the rear of the van, ignoring Astor’s cool gaze. “Jesus,” she mouthed seeing the huge ape supine on a gurney. “You’ve already loaded him!” she exclaimed. Large leather restraints crossed the massive barrel chest and thick thighs and hairy arms. She climbed in, squatting near his head. “Goliath,” she said softly. An eyelid flicker, but no other response. She caught one of the vets. “How much diazepam did you give him? Or was it ketamine? He’s out cold.”

  The woman perused an electronic medical record. “Nothing extra required. He was out when we arrived. Other than a few raspy grunts and belches, he cooperated with the transfer. The security tranquilizer darts were never needed, though”—an uneasy glance back inside the van—“after watching that video of his capture, I must admit I didn’t sleep real well last night. But this was all routine.”

  All routine. When was the last time someone had uttered that phrase? Mendle at Copper River. Just prior to all hell breaking loose. Shelby swallowed her disquiet. It seemed too easy. She gazed again at the sleeping giant. Something rubbed at the edges of her mind but nothing concrete. He looked so still, so calm, so tranquilized.

  “He’s one big tired baby.” Bonds had strolled over with the celebrity astrophysicist.

  “So you still think he’s from another galaxy?” Shelby commented, not masking her irritation.

  Astor smiled and replied, realizing all this was on camera. “Ask me after the CT scan.”

  “I will.” Shelby stepped back and watched the van doors close. The vets climbed into a separate observation well just behind the cab along with an armed guard. The driver drove slowly out of the lot followed by the police escort.

  “Coming?” Bonds asked Shelby, moving for his car. Astor went with him.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” She started for her car. “John, you’re welcome to drive with me.”

  The drive to the hospital imaging center would take about forty minutes pending traffic. She prayed there were no accidents or Caltrans road work.

  She’d just turned the ignition when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the number. “It’s Dr. Reddic.”

  Reddic asked, “Shelby, has the medic van left yet?”

  Shelby turned and watched the van make a slow turn onto Western. “Just now. Why?”

  “I think I’d like you to see something.”

  “Donald, can’t it wait? I’m on my way to observe the CT.”

  “This won’t take long. And I think it could be important.”

  “Damn,” she mouthed to John. “We’ll be right in.”

  Reddic met them at the holding enclosure. A vet assistant had opened the rear entrance near the recently installed glass observation window.

  The chairman indicated a low rock shelf near the water pool. “Take a look under that shelf. I didn’t want anything cleaned up until you saw this. Not sure how significant this is. No doubt that big primate was out cold when I watched him being loaded on the gurney. Still, I’m a little nervous.”

  Shelby squatted and bent low, looked, and shot up. “That’s all his fruit! There must be several dozen apples and bananas stuffed under there.” She retrieved an apple. “Anyone have a knife on them?”

  The assistant passed her a paring knife with a serrated blade. Shelby sliced the apple in two. “Shit,” she muttered. She grabbed another apple and a banana from beneath the shelf, slicing them both open. “Shit, shit,” she repeated. Why hadn’t anyone seen this happening?

  With the tip of the knife blade she flicked out the diazepam tablets. A wave of anguish washed over her. “I want to see the videos from last night. Hurry!”

  Within minutes, all three plus the animal assistant sat before a long console in an observat
ion deck while the IT man retrieved the recorded feeds. “I want the times just before four a.m. and ten p.m.,” Shelby requested.

  Reddic slowly shook his head. “You’re not thinking…”

  Shelby felt the perspiration on her palms. “For the last week Goliath’s pattern has been consistent: wakes and drinks plenty of water from the pool around five a.m. and then again before sleep around eleven p.m. Extra sedative was added at four in the morning and ten in the evening so he would consume the greatest concentrations of diazepam just after it was added.” She added, “And he’d started eating the tainted fruit, or so we thought.”

  No one spoke as the images from the requested time periods ran. Shelby experienced a tightening ball of twine in her gut at what she was seeing. Two days ago Goliath had suddenly begun drinking at three a.m. and nine at night—before the sedative was added. “I don’t believe I’m seeing this,” she groaned.

  She rose suddenly. “We have to contact the medi-transport van. Now!”

  Reddic stood, reaching for the console phone. “That big powerful smart sonofabitch outsmarted us.”

  Shelby rushed for the exit. “I’m going to try to catch them.”

  Reddic motioned to a case holding a pair of tranquilizer rifles and preloaded darts. “Take those.”

  John grabbed a rifle too and raced with Shelby for her car. “He wasn’t sedated then?”

  “No.” Shelby leaped behind the wheel. “Goliath was faking it!”

  CHAPTER 20

  The medi-van driver slowed as a long string of vehicles in the slower right lane forced him to shift into the middle lane. Up ahead he saw why. The next traffic signal at Wilshire and Chelsea was on the fritz. All he saw was a monotonous blinking red light. He mouthed a curse. Hadn’t even reached the freeway yet and already a hold-up. To his right, he watched a school bus packed with yelling children turn into Douglas Park. He decided a sleeping ape was better than all that screaming energy. Well, quieter anyway.