by Alex Siegel
He nodded and smiled. She squealed with joy.
They rode the elevator up to the twenty-second floor. They walked into the white, concrete entry chamber. The tall computer racks that comprised Jack stood behind the glass. Tiny red and green lights flashed repetitively.
Odelia furrowed her brow. "What's that thing? Why is nobody in the security booth?"
"That's the new Jack," Smythe said. "The twins built it. Better than the old Jack in some ways, but not nearly as much fun at parties."
"A computer is in charge of security now?" She stared at him.
"Hello." Jack's voice came down from overhead speakers. "I don't know you."
"This is Odelia," Smythe said. "She's one of the legionnaires in Los Angeles. The legate asked for her to come."
"I can't confirm her identity."
"I'll vouch for her. I know her very well." Smythe gave Odelia another kiss.
"That's not sufficient," Jack said. "According to my information, Odelia has a gift. Please demonstrate it."
"Sure," Odelia said.
All her skin began to glow. White light filled the room, and it was so bright, Smythe could hardly look at her. The red in her eyes glowed like tiny embers. Her hair looked like it was burning with white flame.
"Thank you," Jack said. "You may pass."
The side door buzzed. She returned to normal and left the room with Smythe.
She almost ran into a discarded electron microscope outside the door.
"Watch out," he said. "There is junk everywhere."
He led her through headquarters to the open area where the aperture was being assembled. He had to step over the clutter in spots.
As usual, the twins were hard at work on the aperture. They had made visible progress since yesterday. Judging by the general shape, the thing looked like it was three-quarters complete. Silvery metal bonded countless tiny, colorful components into a solid mass. In a strange way, it reminded Smythe of a fruit cake.
"What's that?" Odelia said.
"The portal to God I mentioned."
She looked at the mess all around. "You were serious? This is crazy!"
Bethany looked up from her work. Her translucent, black eyeballs refracted the light in interesting ways. The pattern of gray swirls on her skull was like smoke.
"Hello, Odelia," she said. "It's good to see you again."
Odelia nodded. "Same here. I never asked before. Did it hurt when God transformed you?"
"I don't know. Our brains were switched off."
"Oh."
Aaron stepped out of the kitchen and called out, "You're finally here! Come on. We were waiting for you."
"Yes, sir," Smythe said.
He and Odelia went into the kitchen. Aaron, Perry, Ethel, Boreas, and the other legionnaires were already there. All the seats were taken. Smythe just stood with Odelia and put his arm around her shoulders.
"We'll start with your report," Aaron said to Smythe.
"Yes, sir. I analyzed the samples some more and reconfirmed the cannibals have an infection, but I still can't identify it. Odelia thinks it's probably bacteria. I also searched the medical literature. No luck. This illness has never been seen before, or at least, nobody has ever written about it."
Aaron frowned. "That's not what I wanted to hear. Perry, did you find anything new?"
"Unfortunately, no, sir," Perry said. "I ran every kind of analysis I could think of, but none of the results jumped out as informative. I have no idea where this illness is coming from. I did accomplish one thing though. I searched the general population for people who are spending an extreme amount of money on food and exercise equipment. My computers examined credit card and bank statements."
"And?"
"There were over eight hundred matches in Chicago." Perry had a frightened expression. "All those people could become cannibals."
Nobody spoke for a moment. Smythe pulled Odelia close.
"Victim number one hundred was just discovered," Aaron said. "I don't have to tell you how ugly the situation is getting. Religious groups are saying it's a sign of the Apocalypse. Some kind of large-scale quarantine seems inevitable even though the legate has asked the President to hold off. The authorities want to stop people from leaving Chicago and possibly taking the plague with them. We do have a small break in the case though. The police finally caught a live cannibal, a woman this time. I want Smythe, Odelia, and Sheryl to examine her very thoroughly."
"What if the disease is contagious, sir?" Sheryl said.
"I told you this was a dangerous job. Get going. You'll need a solid cover story. She's being held in maximum security."
"Yes, sir," Smythe said.
Chapter Nine
Sheryl looked around nervously. She had never been in a jail before, and she hated it. Everything was made of concrete, cinderblocks, and metal. Dull, yellow paint covered all the surfaces except for the metal which was painted dark brown. The doors were solid steel and could be automatically locked. The inmates only had a tiny window to look out through. Occasionally, Sheryl heard somebody yelling or banging.
This was Division IV of the Cook County Department of Corrections. The female population of the county jail was held here. Sheryl was very glad she was just visiting.
Smythe, Odelia, and Sheryl were dressed in business suits. They were pretending to be psychiatrists from the National Institute of Mental Health. Sheryl knew almost nothing about psychiatry, but hopefully, that wouldn't matter. She intended to keep her mouth shut.
Four guards in dark uniforms were escorting them. Two were men, which Sheryl found a little surprising in a women's prison. The opportunities for abuse were obvious.
They came to a door at the end of the hall. A guard looked through the peephole for a long moment before opening the door. All four guards went in first.
Finally, one of them said, "You can come in now."
Sheryl followed Smythe and Odelia into a cell that wasn't much bigger than her bathroom back home. It contained a bunk bed, a stainless steel toilet without a seat, a concrete sink, and not much else. There wasn't even a mirror. Bars covered the small, dirty window.
The cell contained a single prisoner, and she was lying on the bottom bunk. Heavy restraints on her wrists, ankles, and waist forced her to remain still. Her feet were also chained to the bed. A white hockey mask was strapped over her face, so only her brown eyes were visible. She was wearing a bright orange prison uniform. Urine had stained her pants, and Sheryl could smell it.
"Thank you," Smythe said. "We need some time alone with her."
The guard shook his head. "That's not a good idea, sir. You should have at least one guard in the room."
"Look at her. She can barely move. She's not a threat."
"She ate a man's liver while it was still in his body!"
Smythe nodded. "I understand, but your presence will just make her more anxious. We're professionals. We know how to handle dangerous cases. Please, go. Close the door."
He stood his ground in front of the four guards. Eventually, they muttered under their breath and left. The door slammed closed with a clang that startled Sheryl.
Odelia knelt down in front of the prisoner. "Hi, there," she said in a soothing voice. "Your name is Jacky, right?"
The woman nodded.
"Do you want to tell me a little about yourself?"
"I'm starving," Jacky said in a hoarse whisper. "I need food."
"Yes. We expected that. We brought some."
Smythe was carrying two large, steel briefcases. He placed them on the floor and opened them. One contained equipment for performing a medical examination. The other held plastic bags full of shredded beef.
Odelia took a bag and held it in front of Jacky's face. "You want this?"
Jacky nodded vigorously.
"I'm going to take your mask off. If you bite my fingers, I'll break your jaw, and you won't eat. Do you understand?"
Jacky was silent.
"Do you?" Odelia said.
>
"Yes."
Smythe watched anxiously as Odelia removed the mask. Underneath, Jacky had a split lip, a puffy cheek, and a black eye.
"Open up," Odelia said.
Jacky opened her mouth. Odelia tossed in a wad of beef like she was feeding a dog. Jacky swallowed after barely chewing.
"More," she pleaded.
"In a moment. First, answer some questions. When did you first notice the change in your body?"
"Two or three weeks ago."
Odelia tossed another wad of meat into Jacky's mouth. "Did anything strange happen to you around that time? Think hard. It's important."
"My mother visited me."
"That's probably not it." Odelia shook her head and gave Jacky more meat.
"We asked the same questions last night," Sheryl said. "Nobody knows what happened to them."
"I agree," Smythe said. "We should just perform the examination before the guards get suspicious."
He took a bottle of small, white pills from his pocket and gave a pill to Odelia. She wrapped the pill in some meat and tossed it into Jacky's mouth. The prisoner swallowed it eagerly even though she had seen the pill.
After a minute, Jacky's eyes closed.
Odelia checked her pulse and said, "She's unconscious."
Odelia used lock picks to quickly remove all of Jacky's restraints. Then Smythe and Odelia pulled off Jacky's clothes, leaving her only with urine stained panties. They moved her to the floor.
The starved condition of Jacky's body was shocking. All her bones stood out prominently. Her muscles were so lean, they were like rubber bands under her thin skin.
"I can see why she was so hungry," Sheryl said.
"According to the police report," Smythe said, "she ate at least ten pounds of human meat last night. They caught her when she came back for seconds." He checked the door. "It's safe. Go ahead."
Odelia's hands began to glow with an unearthly, white light. Sheryl had never seen Odelia use her gift, and it was mesmerizing. Her hands were as bright as fluorescent bulbs.
"Wow," Sheryl whispered.
Odelia passed her hands back and forth across Jacky's skin. Odelia had her eyes closed, and her face was scrunched up.
"Getting anything?" Smythe said.
"Her energy flow is all wrong. She's very ill. Her body is consuming itself. She'll be dead within a day no matter how much she eats."
"But why?"
The glow spread up Odelia's arms. "I can feel the infection now," she murmured. "An alien presence. It's inside her muscles."
"Which muscles?" Smythe said.
Her hands swept back and forth. "All of them, I think. Take a look for yourself."
She stood up, and the glow stopped immediately. She took his place by the door.
He knelt in front of the prisoner and pushed his hands through the skin of her thigh. Sheryl has seen him use his gift several times before, but it was still disturbing to watch. It looked like a magic trick.
Smythe moved his hands around inside Jacky's thigh. "I feel it now. Inflammation. Distorted blood vessels. Abnormal growth." He pulled his hands out, and there was no blood on them. "I'm going to take a sample."
Odelia looked out the small window in the door. "It's clear."
He took a scalpel from his briefcase full of medical supplies. Sheryl turned away.
"Your gift is amazing," she told Odelia. "How does it work?"
"I generate healing energy," Odelia said.
"Can you try it on me? I want to feel it."
"Sure." Odelia checked the door again. "Hold still."
She put her hand on Sheryl's cheek, and a bright glow made Sheryl squint. Then a tingling warmth flooded through her body. She closed her eyes and savored the miraculous energy. Her heart raced, and she breathed in short gasps. She felt a connection to all forms of life.
Odelia took away her hand, and the sensation faded. Sheryl was keenly disappointed.
"You have the best gift ever," she said.
Odelia grinned. "That's not true, but thank you."
Sheryl risked a glance at Smythe. He had cut open Jacky's calf and was slicing out a small portion of the meat inside.
Sheryl turned back to Odelia and said, "He told us you're an expert on exotic diseases."
"That was before I joined the Society," Odelia said. "I went to some of the worst shitholes in the world to watch people die."
"Sounds awful."
"It wasn't the nicest job, but I was making an important contribution to science. I was recruited into the Society to help with an outbreak of leprosy."
Sheryl glanced at Smythe again. Holding the muscle sample with a pair of forceps, he put it into a plastic bag. Then he put the bag in the briefcase with the medical supplies.
"I'm done," he said. "Close, please."
Odelia squatted down and put her hand on Jacky's wounded calf. Odelia's hand glowed very brightly for a moment. She removed it, and the wound was fully healed without a scar.
"That's so cool," Sheryl whispered.
"Take it up a notch," Smythe said. "See if you can heal her disease."
Odelia rubbed her hands together. "I might need your help like at the convention last year."
"I'm here for you."
Odelia's entire body began to glow, and her hair looked like it was on fire. She put both hands on Jacky's bare chest. The light was so intense, Sheryl had to shade her eyes. Smythe grabbed a blanket off the bed and threw it over Odelia to block the light.
"Is it working?" he said.
"No," she said. "The infection is too pervasive, and her body is too weak. Help me out."
Smythe sat on the other side of the patient. He reached across and pushed his hand into Odelia's chest. The glow spread up his arm until he was shining as brightly as her. He looked like a giant light bulb.
Amazing, Sheryl thought.
She checked the window in the door. The four guards were standing outside the cell and facing the other way, but the light was so bright they might still notice it. She grabbed a bed sheet and covered Smythe to cut down the glow.
"That's got it," Odelia said. "She's healing now. Another few seconds..."
Sheryl heard footsteps and looked out the window. The reaction of the guards told her somebody was approaching. She grabbed the door handle and pulled on it.
"Hurry up!" she hissed.
There was a knock on the metal door. A guard tried to look in through the window. She blocked his view with her body.
"We need to come in," he said.
"We're almost done."
"What the hell are you doing in there?"
"Psychiatric treatment," Sheryl said. "Just give us a moment."
The guard frowned.
She glanced back. Smythe and Odelia threw off their coverings and stood up. The glow had stopped. Jacky didn't look any different except her face had healed, and she was pretty now.
The guard knocked loudly. "We're coming in."
Sheryl stepped back, and the door opened. A man in a U.S. Army uniform had joined the guards. She wasn't an expert on rank insignia, but he looked like an officer.
Smythe furrowed his brow. "Who are you?"
"I'm from the Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases. What are you doing in there?"
He was a tall, skinny man with black hair. He wore stylish glasses without frames. A long scar disfigured his chin. His nameplate read, "Mazza."
"Examining our patient," Smythe said.
Mazza entered the cell and pushed Sheryl aside. "Why is the prisoner naked and unconscious?"
"So we could examine her," Smythe replied in a tone of annoyance. "We put her to sleep so she wouldn't try to eat us. We're from the National Institute of Mental Health. And she's not naked. She's still wearing underwear."
Odelia closed the briefcases and gave them to him.
"Why are brain doctors looking at a nearly naked woman's body?" Mazza said.
"We have medical degrees," Smythe said. "Our expertise
is not limited to brains. Now, if you'll excuse us." He moved towards the door.
Mazza stepped in his way. "Wait. I want to hear your diagnosis. You examined her, right?"
"She was suffering from temporary insanity. She's fine now. Give her some clothes and send her home."
"You figured that out while she was asleep?"
Smythe shrugged. "We're good. Get out of my way."
"I'm not done with you. Let me look inside those briefcases."
"What's your problem?"
"I question the credentials of a doctor who leaves his patient lying unconscious in the middle of the floor," Mazza said, "and who seems a little too eager to leave afterwards. It makes me wonder what happened here. Give me the briefcases."
Smythe handed over the briefcases and glared at him.
Mazza opened the first and raised his eyebrows. "Bags of meat?"
"Your powers of observation are astonishing," Smythe said dryly. "Keep the meat. When she wakes up, feed it to the patient. The poor girl is starving."
Mazza narrowed his eyes.
He opened the second briefcase which contained medical supplies. He took out the muscle tissue sample in its little plastic bag. "More meat?"
Smythe snatched the sample and the briefcase back. "As long as we're having a conversation," he said, "I have a question for you. Why is an Army doctor interested in this case?"
"The mission of the Medical Research Institute is to study dangerous, infectious diseases. There is clearly an outbreak of something very nasty in Chicago. Why wouldn't I be here?"
"That's not exactly accurate. Your mission is to investigate diseases that might have a military application."
Mazza cocked his head. "That's true, technically. So?"
"So it's interesting. If this is an infectious disease, it would be a devastating weapon to use in war. The enemy's troops would eat each other. That's not good for morale."
"I have no opinion about that."
"I'm sure." Smythe nodded. "One might argue that using a disease as a weapon is a violation of a doctor's Hippocratic Oath, and that a real doctor would have nothing to do with it."
"I have no opinion about that either."
"Get out of my way."
Mazza didn't budge. Smythe stood nose-to-nose with him.