Abominable

by Alan Nayes

  Ahmen rested a palm on the crossbow stock. “Goliath is a fucking ape. A prehistoric ape. The challenge as I see it is not in shooting the damn thing, but arranging a scenario where I can shoot it.”

  “The stars got to align for that to happen. The current owners have to want to give him up.” Ralston glanced down the range at the melon target. “But let’s say that does happen and we are able to set the giant ape free. And you bag it.”

  “I’ve never lost a target. If it’s in the wild I will bag it.”

  “Okay. Then what? You don’t think the other interested parties—the US military, NASA, SETI, that pretty primate lady Hollister—you don’t think they’ll come knocking on your door with warrants to search your Primate House?” Ralston added, “By the way, your Arctic exhibit is pretty impressive, as is the rest of your estate.”

  Ahmen acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod. “I live in Canada, remember. The fucking US government has no jurisdiction here. I get that monster here, he’s mine, do you understand?”

  Ralston held up a hand in mock surrender. “Hey, not trying to argue. I’m on your side, Mr. Ahmen.”

  “I’ve followed this story from inception. I know things that aren’t reported on CNN and the network news. Public opinion overwhelmingly wants the ape free, even after the recent debacle. It is getting really hot under the collar for the entities responsible for the giant’s upkeep. With the deaths and injuries, legal liability ramifications have leaped far ahead of concerns about what the ape’s next meal will be. The estate of that late astrophysicist is suing for fifty million dollars. More wrongful death and personal injury suits are guaranteed to follow. It’s getting uglier down in Los Angeles every day that ape is alive. NASA and the military are losing interest now that the ‘alien’ possibility is no longer a concern. They have what they want from the ape, whatever the hell that thing was in its head. No mention of the unidentified contraption it was discovered in anymore. Ditto SETI is out of the picture for the same reason—if it’s not of extraterrestrial origin, they don’t give a fuck. Which leaves the Los Angeles Center of Primatology holding the proverbial keys.”

  Ralston seemed to ponder the words. “I’m listening and understanding. I’ll tell you what. We need one star to align.”

  “And then…”

  It was the Animal Pals man’s turn to grin. “You realize that ape is more heavily guarded than gold in Fort Knox.” He paused to scratch the stubble on his chin. “But with the right amount of funding, it might work. I can make some calls. See if I can generate some interest.”

  Ahmen rose and cocked the powerful crossbow. Slipping a bolt into the groove, he aimed and fired.

  Ralston watched the cantaloupe explode thirty meters away. “Nice shot.”

  Ahmen continued holding the aim. “Make those calls. I want that ape.”

  Shelby couldn’t believe the change in Goliath’s behavior from the last time she’d seen him lying on the pavement on Sepulveda Blvd. The giant was up and moving around the enclosure, stopping periodically to look at each camera or pick up a piece of fruit from the food bin by the pond. Goliath had been transferred back to his holding cell the day before she’d returned from Alaska. She’d been in contact with the Center every day since leaving and when Reddic had informed her of Goliath’s remarkable recovery, she’d been skeptical. She noticed an undertone to the director’s voice but she’d only questioned, “Is everything else going well?” He’d replied with a simple, “As well as expected,” not elucidating further, and Shelby hadn’t pushed it. All things considered, though, her Arctic trip north had been a resounding professional success. Enough remains had been collected from the glacier to reconstruct an almost complete adult female skeleton. She’d orchestrated the packing and the shipment would arrive in a few days. Needless to say, the military and NASA had lost interest when no other alien objects were discovered. Personally, the trip had been a fun success, too. John planned on visiting her early next week.

  Shelby stood outside the two-way observation window. As soon as she’d appeared, Goliath had ambled over on all fours and pressed his nose against the shatterproof glass. He seemed to ignore the two armed guards seated in chairs well away from the glass partition. Shelby had seen more guards in the hall leading to the holding enclosure as well as more outside the Center, holding the protestors at bay. No one was permitted within a hundred feet of any one side of the facility, except employees, veterinary consultants, and other people conducting official business with the Primatology Center. She was pretty confident all armed security personnel had been issued the same orders regarding Goliath. “Shoot to kill.”

  Shelby held her hand opposite his massive head. This close she noticed two things. The sexual dimorphism she’d discussed with John on Little Okpilak was as extreme as Shelby had seen in the great apes. Goliath’s head was at least twice the size of the adult female skull from the glacier. And preliminary DNA results from the adult female skull confirmed the direct maternal relationship with the juvenile skeleton. The second detail was all the silver in Goliath’s bushy eyebrows. More silver impregnated the thick coat of hair on his back. Goliath was older than she’d initially believed, perhaps approaching well past middle age for his species, whatever that species was. She wondered if they’d mated for life or if they were polygamous like gorillas and the promiscuous chimps. Gibbons were the only monogamous primates she’d directly studied.

  She flipped on the speaker through the glass. “Hi, Goliath,” she said in a neutral tone. When he turned his head she got a good look at his left temporal surgical site. She counted fifteen sutures and could see the skin flap over the replaced bone had taken nicely. Soon the hair would regrow, burying the scar.

  The giant moved back and rose on two legs to his full height, gazing down at Shelby. Jesus, you are so fricking big!

  She waved and he swung around, knuckle-walked to the food bin, and returned with a papaya. In his giant palm it looked like a small oblong plum. Shelby moved to the barred observation station. She unlatched a heavy insulated wood panel and slid it away, revealing the iron bars. Immediately, Shelby felt the cool thirty-six-degree air flow out against her skin.

  Behind her she heard both guards rise when Goliath suddenly appeared on the other side of the bars. Without taking her eyes from the huge mass of white hair and muscle, she said, “It’s okay.”

  The nearest guard responded, “Don’t get too near, Dr. Hollister.”

  Shelby indicated she’d heard. “Goliath, how are you?”

  His expression evoked more than simple animal curiosity—so starkly different from the rage she’d observed when he’d leaped and rampaged through the operating observation suite—and with surprising dexterity for fingers so large, he positioned the papaya between his right index finger and thumb and slid the fruit through two of the bars, stopping only when his knuckle met the iron. He didn’t appear frustrated, nor did he attempt to force it further.

  “Why thank you, Goliath.” Shelby began to reach for it and felt herself stop.

  “I wouldn’t do it,” a guard warned.

  An image of poor Dr. Astor being dragged, bouncing and flopping down the Center’s exit corridor, flashed in her mind. She met the giant’s gaze. He grunted, but didn’t pull back his fingers. “Goliath,” she said, smiling. “I’m going to take it.”

  Calmly she reached out and grasped the papaya. For an instant she wasn’t sure he was going to release it but when her skin grazed his finger pad, he grunted again and the papaya dropped into Shelby’s hand. She nodded. “Thank you.”

  He made a rough sighing noise and continued watching her; and she watching him.

  She heard the guards commenting, “Did you see that? I’ll be damned.” Then to Shelby, one of them said, “I think he has crush on you, Dr. Hollister.”

  Shelby sensed something more going on behind those penetrating eyes, but she couldn’t decide what, just that she’d never been watched back by a great
ape like she was being watched now, as if he were studying her as much as she was studying him. “If only you could talk, big guy,” she murmured.

  Holding up the papaya, she smiled again and backed away. At least the brain surgery had not adversely affected his instinctual memory—how to eat and care for himself. She wondered if removing that thing in his temporal lobe could have affected his memory in any other way.

  She knew just the test.

  Sliding the insulated panel back in place, she retreated for the rear exit. “I’ll be back later.”

  Max Bonds stood behind the armored shield along with Jean Simpkins. The space became tighter as a cadre of military engineers, NASA scientists, and demolition experts from Langley Air Force Base in Virginia took up their positions.

  Bonds heard the SETI exec murmur, “Sigmund should be here.”

  He nodded in agreement. “Any decision on the ape yet?”

  Simpkins shook her head. “I’m starting to side with some of those protestors.”

  “What, set him free? Would you like that giant wandering into your backyard?”

  “Guess not.” She thought a moment. “Would love to know what alien entity trapped him though.”

  “And why. Those are questions we’ll probably never answer. Unless”—he motioned toward the demolition setup in the middle of an abandoned military asphalt lot miles from any buildings—“that provides us a clue.”

  Bonds felt as bad as anybody about the astrophysicist’s untimely death, but he would never admit that his primary reaction had been relief—relief that he had not been sitting in that LA animal hospital surgical suite when that monster busted loose. He’d even told Shelby Hollister later that he’d had a funny feeling about the surgery. Damn, that could have been his head rolling across the concrete. He said, “Care to make a wager?” He indicated the large imposing machine a quarter mile away.

  Simpkins said, “I already lost on the laser and X-rays and the heat test. Can anything penetrate the octahedron?”

  “Truly an enigma. Whoever visited earth twenty-eighty thousand years ago sure knew how to make things that last.”

  “And disappear.”

  The UCO. The NASA executive agreed ruefully. He looked away from downfield and down at the small monitor mounted on the shield wall—one of five monitors for remote viewing. A video feed showed the octahedron positioned dead center on a thick titanium alloy slab approximately three feet square. A second alloy slab mounted on a huge plunger hung a foot above the octahedron. He could hear the technical experts spouting off readings—pounds of force, cohesion coefficients, equations related to fracturing and tensile and compressive strength—but he was interested in just one thing. Could they crack the little bastard open? As with the UCO, lasers, heat, cold, acid exposure, all failed to make any impression on the foreign device. And also like the UCO, they still had no idea what the octahedron was composed of or the nature of the energy it released—just that the energy bursts could impede local electrical circuits and absorb all manner of electromagnetic waves introduced to it. Or bring down a cargo plane in the case of the UCO. Thus the safety shield and distance.

  A genuine physics conundrum.

  Hopefully some insight would be revealed today. Valuable information could be obtained by quantifying how an object reacted to the five fundamental loads: compression, shear, tension, bending, and torsion.

  Bonds listened to an order, “Three, two, one, mark!” Today would be compression. Remotely the signal was sent to the machine. All eyes were glued to the monitors. The plunger lowered.

  Bonds could sense the anticipation building as the top slab contacted the octahedron.

  He listened as the pounds of force rose. The octahedron didn’t move. Over ten thousand pounds.

  An order: “More compression.”

  Still no visible change. Over a hundred thousand.

  “Take it to half mil.”

  “Fuck,” Bonds muttered.

  Simpkins shook her head. “Double fuck.”

  A new order: “Maximum compression.”

  Bonds knew that number to be upwards of a million pounds per square centimeter. Few things man-made could withstand that kind of force. But then this wasn’t man-made. And it had been buried in that giant ape’s head?

  Everyone reacted at once when the top slab suddenly dropped, closing the gap and smacking into the base slab. They’d cracked it!

  A few hands clapped in applause, but any celebrating rapidly dwindled when the top slab rose.

  An awkward perplexed silence as tangible as gel filled the spaces between the viewers.

  The bottom slab was empty!

  No visible sign the octahedron had ever existed.

  CHAPTER 29

  Shelby held the door for the tech as he wheeled in the shipping crates. Four in all. She helped him unload them beside the exam counter. The two smaller ones she lifted up and set next to a centrifuge.

  He pointed out the Alaskan address. “These the rest of the remains from that glacier?”

  She used a box cutter to slice the packing tape. “Yes. Some belong to the smaller juvenile I have here, but the majority are the adult female. One of those larger crates holds the actual skull.”

  He smiled and nodded, the grin short-lived. “Dr. Hollister, is it true what I heard about Goliath?”

  Shelby stopped what she was doing. “What did you hear?”

  He hesitated. “Well, it’s just scuttlebutt, I’m sure, but the rumor is he may not be housed here much longer.”

  “Where will he go then?”

  “No destination decided, but at one point the San Diego Zoo was mentioned.”

  “San Diego has an excellent gorilla exhibit but the cold temperature requirements would really complicate the housing issue.”

  He shrugged. “Like I said, only a rumor.”

  Shelby waited until he left before dialing Reddic’s office. The receptionist answered. Shelby thought her tone sounded subdued. “Hello, Dr. Hollister, he’s in a meeting and an insurance attorney is stopping by in about an hour. Should I interrupt him?”

  Attorney? That didn’t sound favorable. “No, just let him know I’ll be by later to talk with him.”

  She disconnected, wondering a little uneasily if she was no longer in the inner circle. True, the giant had escaped both times while technically under her supervision. But could she be blamed for the disastrous results or was she just being paranoid? She for sure wouldn’t have ordered the CT or the surgery if she’d been calling the shots, but on another level, if the octahedron had not been removed, she never would have been able to do what she planned on doing now. She went to the secure locker holding the juvenile skull and removed the lock. The skull was on the same shelf she’d left it on before flying to Fairbanks. She knew she wanted to do this, but again her nervous anticipation gave her pause. A part of her wanted to be right, but if Goliath demonstrated the same indifferent nonreaction he did before the device was removed, another part of her would be relieved as well. The last thing she wanted to do was set the giant primate off again. But until she did this, her hypothesis regarding the purpose, well, a purpose, of the octahedron would remain untested.

  Just do it. Then you’ll know. Shelby retrieved the smaller skull and tucked it inside a cloth-lined specimen basin.

  She entered the rear entrance to the holding cell, greeting the guards. “How’s he been today?” she asked, walking to the insulated wood panel covering the bars.

  The taller guard remained positioned at the two-way viewing bay. “Quiet. The only time he seems to react is when the food arrives and when you visit, Dr. Hollister. The big ape man totally ignores us males.”

  Shelby set the basin down on a tray and slid the panel aside. Goliath had been squatting on his haunches near a pile of green lettuce and bamboo shoots but when Shelby slid back the wood panel from the bars, he twisted his head and faced her. She waved and for a moment she saw him glance towar
d the camera above the observation station before rising up and ambling bipedally over the straw-covered floor to where she stood. She looked way up and greeted him. “Hello, Goliath.”

  The giant gazed down at her and again Shelby felt the oddest sensation from his penetrating gaze that she was the one in a cell and he was outside looking in. She smiled. “Do you make all the women feel insecure?” she asked, in a joking manner.

  He lowered himself to a full squat so his head was nearer her level. If he’d uttered the word “Relax,” she would have almost taken it in stride. He canted his head slightly at the guard, who’d stepped closer, and made a harsh guttural noise. It sounded like a truncated AHOO. Stay back.

  Shelby motioned the guard away and Goliath watched him a few seconds as if to say I don’t like you.

  The guard returned to his seat. “Think the old man must be jealous.”

  Shelby said calmly, “Primates can be very territorial.”

  The second guard replied, “No different than us guys when it comes to our women.”

  Shelby ignored the male banter. She would have preferred the two men step out but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Instead she asked, “Either of you been briefed about Goliath being transferred out of here?”

  “No.” The second guard added, “Dr. Reddic came down here before you arrived with three men. I think one was that NASA guy.”

  “Max Bonds?”

  “Sounds like the name. The other two he didn’t introduce but one I recall seeing out front a couple times with those Animal Pals protesters and the other one looked Middle Eastern.”

  Instantly, Shelby’s anxiety radar beeped. “Rasheed Ahmen?”

  Both guards shrugged. “Didn’t get a name. Goliath didn’t seem to take to them much. He actually growled when they stepped in front of the two-way.”

  Shelby watched Goliath. Who were those men, Goliath? For the thousandth time she wished the huge primate could talk. The giant scratched at a spot on his chest but held her gaze. She’d deal with the visitors later. “Goliath, I want to show you something.”