Yes, that must be so. He is of us.
Like Eliza.
Yes, but I don’t want to eat his liver.
His heart.
Yes. His heart.
CHAPTER SIX
Sea Trial
They scheduled two walks on the island so that the team could experience time outside of the lab with the twins. Except for Eliza, everyone else was fitted out with an updated helmet to filter out the puck’s potential for mental invasion. Tina and Schiller stayed behind, watching from a window as the well bundled group headed out toward the large field that lead to a thick wood. To Tina’s private dismay, she couldn’t help feeling that she would see neither her young assistant nor her subjects again.
Despite the decade long nuclear winter, the island was filled with life. Hearty evergreens and rugged shrubbery successfully stood up to the near constant overcast and cold. Small beasts and birds continued to call the trees home. The short spring was perhaps a misnomer. Cold sea breezes whipped icy moisture across exposed skin reminding everyone about the fickleness of the weather and cutting the first trip short when hail had them running back for cover. The second walk was mostly pleasant, with a novel moment: To the astonishment of even Eliza, Hansel gestured to a small bird, which instantly flew to his hand. Without hesitation, he bit off the head, spat it out and then quickly ate the rest of the tiny creature without spilling a drop of blood. Jealous of the meal, Gretel attempted to do the same, but was stopped by Eliza with a harsh command of “No”. Gretel sulked for the rest of the outing until she let herself fall toward the back of the group where she summoned a robin straight to her mouth, not bothering with the business of removing the head. Her brother snickered while also enjoying the sensation of small bones and silky feathers being munched together.
A day later, with his crew gathered before him, Dean stood on the rail above the Ginger Girl’s Foc’sle. Behind him the ever-present overcast was giving way to stormier looking dark clouds. Sanford stood near his captain ready to brace the man should the growing ocean swell make him lose his footing on the rail, a completely unnecessary gesture; Dean stood on legs that moved with a natural rhythm as the sea heaved the bow up and down. Lying on the deck next to them was a large plastic shipping crate with a hinged lid.
“So here it is then,” said Dean. “Some of you may remember that during the waning days of Omega, there were reports of, and even sightings by a few of you of children among the infected with significant malformations. Some said they were mutants. You may remember that there were also tales of mind control or as least in my case, finding myself having feelings or more accurately, the sensations of another person other than myself.”
Several of the crew grumbled. One, a tough looking woman named Alice Pike barked out, “Babies that looked like devils. That’s what they were. Could make a person cut their own throat. Saw it happen... before I got bit. My girl Sally, squad mate for five years, shooting at the thing while stabbing herself with her own knife.”
Dean continued, “Well, as Alice says, they are most definitely real.” He nodded toward Plum Island “The doctors over there say that these things are part of a genetic mutation due to Cain’s and that the world is probably full of them.”
Many of the sailors found themselves unconsciously glancing toward the island or the western horizon. All of them took notice of a small Navy tender that was launching from the Plum Island dock.
“Eyes on me,” said Dean. “Now I’ve explained to you all the nature of the task we have been asked to accomplish. If we can get our hands on those wind turbines, it will make life a lot easier for all of us back home. There’s just a few hitches. The notion that there are any Fiends left roaming the countryside is just that, a notion. There’s no chance any of those brain-addled folks have survived the past ten years. Their children on the other hand…. Like I said, the folks over there think there’s lots of them.” He paused to look at the approaching tender. “Sanders and I have met two of them already.”
The crew broke into garbled talk and grumbles, most eyes focusing back and forth on the island then the approaching boat.
“Eyes on me!” The crew stood at attention again. Dean said, ‘Yes, they’ve got two of them over there and they’re all grown up, and yes they look like some kind of devil’s spawn, and yes they can get into your head and mess with it, and yes, you guessed it, the government wants to send them with us across the country.”
The crew broke into frenzied shouts of fear and protest.
“Quiet!” yelled Sanders joined by Boatswain Palmer pulling out a whistle, blowing and yelling “Settle down, settle down!”
“Silence!” yelled Dean. The crew settled down. Dean nodded toward Sanders. “Your first mate and I have been fully exposed to these things. We stand before you completely unharmed. They have been in captivity since they were toddlers and appear to be civilized. They speak English and they have control, if you will, over their abilities. Nevertheless, precautions must be taken.” He cast a hand toward the crate. Sanders opened it and lifted out a black faceless helmet. Dean said, “These pucks, as they are being referred to, and you’ll know why when you see them, will be joining us for a short sail to see how we might all fair together. Mr. Sanders is holding one of the helmets that you will all wear while they are on board. The helmet is quite a piece of tech. It allows you to see but stops their ability to get in your head.” Sanders and Palmer started passing out the helmets.
One of the armorers, Mr. Kneedham, spoke up. “So that’s it then, Captain? These things are coming on board without so much as a vote?”
“You of all people know, Mr. Kneedham, that a ship is not a floating democracy. After these tests, anyone who chooses not to continue will get a first class ride via the U.S. Navy back to Nantucket. Now please put on the helmets as you receive them. It will be slightly disorienting, but you’ll be amazed at how well you can see all around you. For those of you who haven’t been able to get a new eyeglass prescription in years, you may not want to take it off. The device is motion sensitive. In addition to the photovoltaic skin, piezoelectrics charge it up while you wear it. It can also be charged at a universal charger. It will just turn on when you put it on.”
The helmets were different than the one Dean wore the first time. These were more like a cowl and covered the top of the head from the bridge of the nose up with what looked like a black bowl on top. A double chin strap held it in place. As the crew put them on, there where various oohs and aahs of amazement. The other armorer, Mr. Kile, blurted out, “Look at that. I can zoom without even thinking about it. I could shoot anything with this thing on.”
Dean nodded at Sanders again who yelled out, “Eyes forward!” A few crewmembers kept their backs turned. Sanders spotted Jamesbonds Boonmee. “I said eyes forward, Seaman Boonmee!”
Jamesbonds giggled and said, “But I’m staring right at you sir.”
Several other crewmen laughed at this.
“Don’t try me Seaman or I’ll have you cleaning the bilge all week.”
Jamesbonds and the others turned around.
Dean continued, “These things…. These guests. Hansel and Gretel. Yes, that’s their names. They will be treated like any other guest onboard. A scientist, an Army colonel, three Army special ops, and a U.S. Marshall, who are part of the mission, will also join us. Colonel MacAfee, Marshall Blakely and the soldiers are susceptible to Cain’s and therefore will be taking the proper precautions. The scientist, Ms. Sherr, who is the puck handler of sorts, is, like us, a carrier. As might be expected, the pucks are also carriers. And there is some good news on that front, which I will share with you after today’s sail.”
The Navy tender came aside the starboard beam and a sailor wearing a full MOPP kit took hold of an offered line where he tied up next to a gangway that led down from the Ginger Girl’s deck.
Dean called out again to his distracted crew. “You will note that Mr. Sanders and I are not wearing helmets. The pucks are used to us an
d know to refrain from anything but spoken communication. If all goes well, we will only have to wear these helmets on an as-needed basis. Now, you’re going to be shocked. Gretel and Hansel are sensitive. Behave like the disciplined crew that you are. Once our guests are aboard, we will raise sail and hoist anchor for a short run around the island. Mr. Sanders, the crew is yours.” Dean turned to greet his guests.
Sanders called out to the crew, “Face starboard and remain at attention.”
MacAfee and Hernandez came up the gangway first followed by Wen. All of them wore masks to protect them from infection. Eliza came next, gently coaxing her protégés to join her. Gretel gently stepped aboard wearing a customized snowsuit with her brother wearing an identical outfit right behind. The pucks looked at their surroundings like a pair of giant praying mantises who have suddenly found themselves inside a capture jar. The crew could be heard to gasp and murmur, but they all kept their cool.
“Welcome aboard the Ginger Girl,” said Dean.
“Looks like we might see some weather, Captain,” said MacAfee.
Dean glanced at the distant squall. “A bit, but it will only enhance the test.”
“Of course.”
“If you will all follow me to the stern, we’ll make way.”
Dean chose to “beat to weather”, toward the squall, and then leave it to their backs as they rounded the eastern part of the island to make the long run along its south side, thereby keeping them in the lee of the storm on the western side. This would leave a beat into any heavy weather as they tacked eastward to get back to their anchorage on the north side.
The breeze began to come up and the pucks were enthralled as the gaff-rigged sails were raised three quarters high and reefed for the impending wind. Only the time-testedness of the crew kept the men and women from tripping over each other as they stole glances at the strange looking decedents of man; the new headgear being perfect for understandable voyeurism. As the anchor came up and the heavy ship got underway, the heaving bow smoothed out as it cut through the growing swell. Hansel and Gretel let out yips of excitement as the sails began to fill out and the vessel slowly healed to port. For Dean, Sanders, Wen, MacAfee and Hernandez, who were experimenting without the helmets, the puck’s exhilaration bled through into their consciousness filling them with the thrill of the ship’s movement. Dean looked to Eliza and exclaimed, “This is intense - what I’m getting from them. I can’t say I’ll be able to concentrate on the job if it stays like this.”
With futility, Wen tried to yawn the sensation away.
Eliza, her high boned cheeks flushed from the cold damp air said, “Bear with it. You’ll learn to filter it out.”
As the Ginger Girl and the squall got closer together, snow flurries drove in with sharp little stings of ice and, like sand on a windy road, the puck’s emotions shifted from elation to fear, to wonder and delight. Though grown to adulthood, they remained mostly curious children. Wen was surprised to feel his tongue grow cold as Hansel opened his mouth to catch the falling flakes.
As they came along the eastern point of Plum Island the waves began to grow, their foamy peaks whipped off by the breeze, sending salty spray across the deck. The crew reefed the sails in further, drawing the tack down along the masts and making them fast. For the first time in a long time, Dean allowed himself to feel genuine pleasure. He was removed from the isolation that was the banishment to Nantucket. He could mentally stretch his arms out again. As a descendent of explorers he needed to be free. To wander, to find adventure, was built into his DNA. As he breathed freely, taking in his surroundings anew, the puck’s unintended invasion of his senses seemed to dissipate. Perhaps that was the key: focus on something else and be aware that such focus would diminish the puck’s hold. He called for a tack and the three heavily timbered booms swung to port. Everyone shifted their weight as the Ginger Girl heeled to the opposite board. Eliza found herself briefly leaning against Dean for support. He glanced down at her face. The cold wind brought tears to the edges of her bright hazel eyes. She smiled at him briefly, caught her balance, and patted his gloved hand.
The pucks observed all of this, absorbed the emotions, and felt the gamut of sensations that both humans had felt. What Dean couldn’t know and what the puck’s knew intimately, was that Eliza’s pulse had quickened, that she had tried to stay it while regaining her balance, that the sensation troubled her as she attempted to concentrate on anything else but the man standing beside her. Stewart had also had a brief uptick in his heartbeat. For the pucks, this was new. Their primary experience with the human heart was one of fear and loathing. This was different. This was something that they had only read of in books: angst, warmth, yearning and regret, mild embarrassment, and most of all, hope, desire, and the fear of their consequences.
Fascinating,” said one half of their shared mind.
I don’t think I like it.
No, not one bit.
As the Ginger Girl turned west, the crew let out her sails for the downwind run and the keel righted itself to almost level. Though she ran at a good clip, the following seas were faster, lifting the stern, rolling under the hull, then lifting the bow and carrying on toward the distant point that was the northern tip of Long Island. With the breeze at their backs the chill was less noticeable and the passengers who were unfamiliar with sailing felt more at ease. Wenfrin Blakely, for one, was very at ease on the sea. Growing up in San Pedro near the Port of Los Angeles, he had owned a small day sailor given to him by his father who was a local yacht-racing champion. Most of his idle time as a youth was taken up with an old Catalina Capri 14.2, and as he became more confident over the years he would take the small open boat across to Catalina Island and eventually up to the Channel Islands. Once he graduated from university and decided to fully embrace the world of law enforcement, he’d let go of the joy of the ocean. Now, as he leaned on the stern rail that rose up and down with the swell, he felt regret over that loss. He’d never sailed on anything so big as the Ginger Girl. He felt downright giddy; wanting to take the helm and call out commands to the sailors. Despite his underlying fear of the challenges ahead, he was also thrilled. He would be doing two of his favorite things: sailing and driving a locomotive. He would also be seeing home. He hoped that it wouldn’t be too much of a disappointment. Then his eye caught those of the pucks. They both looked rather pale. Heck, the male looked downright seasick. Shee-it, if they weren’t odd-looking creatures. His first reaction upon seeing them was that they were beings from the worst of nightmares, but now, looking like this: clothed in heavy snow gear that camouflaged what they really were… They looked downright pathetic with the big moving sea beyond them. Gretel reached out to his mind.
What are you looking at Black Blake?
Wen reeled back with the abrupt entrance of another consciousness in his head. Then Hansel joined in and Wen felt instantly, horribly seasick. Almost immediately he turned to the leeward rail and vomited. “Get out! You’re not supposed to be doing this!” he screamed out loud.
You think because we are ill that we are weak, Hansel barked into the recesses of his brain.
“No! Stop!” Wen heaved the last of his breakfast and continued to gag raw bile.
Hansel and Gretel spoke into his mind as one. We feel ill, but it is you who have lost self-control.
Eliza finally realized what was happening and glowered at the pucks. “Enough! You made a promise! You must not break your promise!” The pucks left Wen’s mind and looked instantly chastened. Eliza pointed at both of their faces. “Never again. Do you understand? If you break the trust of these people you do not get to go on the trip. If you break the trust of these people at anytime during the trip, you ruin it for us all. Do you children understand?”
The pucks sheepishly nodded. Hansel clacked his sharp teeth together and then ran his tongue across them as though trying to get rid of a foul taste.
“Say it aloud,” barked Eliza.
The pucks spoke
at the same time, “Never again.”
Eliza turned to Wen. “I’m sorry, Mr. Blakely.”
Wen looked deeply shaken. “I’m going to clean up.” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stepped down the gangway toward the head below.
When the Ginger Girl came out of the lee of the island and turned northeast again, the squall that had been slowly closing in hit her bow full in the face. Icy wind, sleet and heavy wet snow lashed into everyone on deck. The effect was like switching from a cold damp breeze to being blasted by a fire hose of freezing water. All of this while the ship heeled dramatically. The sails were further reefed and Captain Dean guided his guests down below to his aft quarters. As the pucks stepped down the gangway, they turned as one to look back. Mr. Burrows stood at the helm as though the weather didn’t affect him at all. He had lifted the solid visor up on his helmet. He winked at the pucks and spoke to them with only his mind. Watching you devils. And just so’s you know, it’s already been agreed. You make the littlest step toward betraying us and we’ll make you watch as we cut open your bellies and run your guts up the mast. Enjoy your tea. He smiled broadly and slammed the visor back down.
Below deck, Cookie had warm sandwiches and tea ready. Despite the intense rocking of the ship and a 25-degree angle to port (causing most of them to cling to the walls, table or any handhold available) everyone got to enjoy the bleed-over from the twin’s happy discovery of the cheese in the warm sandwiches. No one seemed to mind this particular invasion of his or her senses.
Dean gazed at the pucks and made strong eye contact with each of them. Neither of the odd looking people... were they people?... anyway, neither of them made any effort to enter his mind. Instead they seemed suddenly shy. There was just the surprise sensation of their youthful taste buds, so easily pleased with bread and salty fat, to remind him of his age and apparently already diminishing sense of smell and taste. He watched the others of this odd assortment of would-be-adventurers and found them to be equally at ease (perhaps the marshal was still a bit put off, but who could blame him). He turned to MacAfee. “Assuming things progress as they are now, when can we expect the rest of your team and when do we start this crazy mission? Summers may be getting longer, but it’s still going to be harsh weather out there and it’s only going to get worse as we dicker around.”
Children Of Fiends Page 7