The Assault: The Revealing, Infestation, Infiltration, The Fog

by Frank Peretti

  “It may contain metal and wires and circuits,” I said, my words coming out in double time, “but it’s not expanding and contracting, it’s growing. It’s healing itself. It’s replicating and repairing damaged cells. It’s organized. It uses energy. It responds to its environment. All we have left to determine—”

  The professor lifted his head from the eyepiece. “Is what?”

  “If it can reproduce.”

  The professor leaned back in his chair and thrust his hands into the pockets of his robe. “Impossible.”

  “You can say that all night long,” I told him, “but it doesn’t change what you see in that microscope. What we’ve seen over the last few days. Whoever made this orb—”

  “The Gate?”

  “Whoever made it has access to technology far beyond conventional research. This thing, this living metal, could be derived from an alien culture. It could have come from another galaxy. It could be so advanced that not even our government knows about it—”

  “But we do? This makes no sense.” He leaned forward and touched my arm. “I know you’re flush with excitement right now, but reality’s going to hit you in the morning. As far as I know, no one has ever found a non-carbon-based life form. In the entire universe, Andi. No one. Nowhere.”

  He stood, nodded, and turned toward the hallway. “I’m going back to bed now. And in the morning I’m going to come in here and tell you that I had the oddest dream. And you’re going to laugh and give me a cup of coffee, and we’re going to go back to reading and searching for needles in haystacks. So good night.”

  “Fine. Just take the gun with you.”

  I watched him pick up the pistol and shuffle away, and I knew his mind needed time to accept the impossible, the improbable, and the nonexistent. But by tomorrow, the boys in the basement would have done their work, and he’d come around.

  He always did.

  CHAPTER

  8

  I slept late the next morning, and might have slept even longer if not for the noise coming from the living room. I threw on a robe and stumbled down the hallway, then went instantly awake when I saw who stood next to Brenda: Dr. Hamish Drummond, and he was anything but calm. His face was red from exertion, his forehead was damp with sweat, and he was leaning over the coffee table, eye to eye with the professor.

  “What’s going on?” I pushed a tangle of curls away from my face to better see them.

  Tank, who’d been blocked from view by a wall, stepped into my field of vision. “Your doctor friend says he’s been visited by one of the orbs.”

  “What?” Ghost spiders danced over my spine. “Why?” I stepped around Tank to see the doctor. “Why would the orbs visit you?”

  “I don’t know, and that’s why I’m here.” Hamish looked from me to the professor. “Tell me what you know about the people controlling those things.”

  “We don’t know anything.” The professor crossed his arms. “We aren’t even sure what the orbs are used for.”

  I knew better—we knew the orbs were used for spying and for destroying the green fungus when it got out of control. I knew the orbs were made of living metal. But apparently the professor didn’t want to share what we had learned.

  I pressed my lips together as another thought made my stomach twist. Did Hamish know the professor was lying? He might, if I had told him what we’d learned about the orbs. I had no idea what I’d said under hypnosis.

  Hamish regarded the professor with a skeptical gaze, then nodded. “I see,” he said, a cryptic response that could have meant anything.

  Brenda leaned against the wall. “Why don’t you tell us what you saw?” she suggested, an easy smile playing on her lips.

  Hamish looked from her to me, then he slipped his hands into his pockets. “I went to the office this morning. The air smelled different, and the room was unusually warm, so I checked and found a shattered window. I immediately turned to see if anything was missing. That’s when I saw the thing. It had been hiding in a corner, and when I spotted it, it flew straight at me. I ducked, then it flew out the window, and I lost track of it.”

  All of us looked at each other. His description of the orb’s behavior seemed accurate, but I knew the professor would be skeptical.

  “Which brings us back to why,” Brenda said, twiddling her unsmoked cigarette between her fingers. “Why would an orb be spying on you?”

  “And that’s why I’m here.” Hamish folded his arms. “I’d never seen anything like that until I met the five of you. I wouldn’t know what it was if Andi hadn’t told me.”

  There it was—the finger of blame, pointed squarely at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, giving him an apologetic look. “I hate that I’ve gotten you involved in all this. If you want to stop seeing me, I’ll understand. I am feeling better.”

  The professor had narrowed his eyes at the beginning of Hamish’s story, but now he nodded. “All right, then. I think we can assume that whoever might be interested in us is also interested in the doctor. They’re probably conducting damage control. We know about their experimentation with the fungus, and we know that it could easily be weaponized.”

  “But why?” Hamish lifted both brows. “It doesna make sense. Why would they want a weapon? Why would they kill thousands of innocent people? What’s the end game?”

  I had no answer, and I didn’t think the professor did, either. Brenda gave the professor a what next? look, and Tank scratched his head.

  “We don’t know what the end game is,” I said, speaking up because I felt responsible. “But we do know that the things we’ve seen do not bode well for anyone.”

  Hamish tipped back his head and looked at me, then he nodded. “I guess I’ll just have to move on and forget about it . . . if I can.”

  “Sorry,” I said again. “I never dreamed they’d come after you.”

  “Let this be a lesson to you, lass,” he answered, his mouth curving in a half smile. “Be careful who you tell your secrets to.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” I said. “Sorry about not being awake when you came in. I was up late last night.”

  He walked with me through the doorway, then lingered outside on the tiny front porch. Aware that I was outside in my robe with no makeup, I cinched my robe tighter and folded my arms, waiting to hear whatever he wanted to say.

  “Thanks for stayin’ for lunch yesterday,” he said. “My mother enjoyed meeting you.”

  I looked down and smiled. “I enjoyed meeting her. It was nice to get away”—I gestured to the house behind me—“from all this. But if you want to read my journals, maybe to learn a little more about what we’ve been doing, I’d be happy to let you see them.”

  He shook his head. “I never read my patients’ private thoughts. I said that wee notebook was for your eyes alone, and I meant it. But . . .” He paused and wagged a finger at me. “I might have to seriously consider turning you over to another doctor. It’s unethical, you understand, for a doctor to see a patient to whom he’s personally attracted.”

  I stared as the words slowly sank in. Did he mean what I thought he meant? Was he really attracted to me? I liked him, but then again, who wouldn’t? He was handsome, charming, intelligent, and who could resist that accent?

  “I’d better be goin’.” Hamish stepped off the porch and waved, then opened the door of his convertible.

  “Nice car,” I called, coming down the stairs.

  “A rental.” He grinned. “But I’m enjoyin’ it for as long as I’m in Florida. Might as well go back home with a tan.”

  I laughed and stepped closer. The interior was what I expected to see in a new sports car—leather seats, power everything, burled wood in the dash—then I spied something so unexpected I froze. On the dashboard, sitting like a tiny little person, was a green Gumby.

  I widened my eyes and pointed. “What . . . is . . . that?”

  He followed my finger, then grinned. “You mean Gumby?”

  “Why do you
have a Gumby in your car?”

  He chuckled. “’Tis my brother’s stand-in. He gave it to me when I left home. Said he wanted to come to America, but since he couldn’t, Gumby would have to stand in for him.” He tilted his head. “Does that mean something? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I drew a deep breath and felt my shoulders relax. Surely the Gumby was harmless—so why had Brenda sketched him?

  “It’s cute,” I said, stepping away from the car. “But I’d better let you go. I’m sure you have work to do.”

  “Nothing more interesting than talking to you,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat. “But seriously—call if you need to see me. You have my number.”

  I nodded and backed away, then watched him pull out of the drive and head north. And as the convertible merged into traffic at the intersection, another random thought struck: how had he known where to find us? I put my grandparents’ address on the medical intake forms.

  I must have given him the condo’s address while under hypnosis.

  Inside the house, I discovered that Hamish Drummond’s arrival had drastically affected my friend’s moods. Tank wore a decidedly worried expression. Brenda kept grinning at me, probably delighted by the thought of observing a transatlantic fling, and the professor radiated disapproval, undoubtedly because he thought I had crossed the line between personal and professional relationships. The only one who seemed unaffected was Daniel, who sat on the floor drawing pictures while he listened for sounds of distress from his battleships.

  “He’s a good doctor,” I finally said, breaking the tense silence that had reigned ever since I came through the doorway, “and a nice guy. But that’s the extent of our relationship.”

  “Good thing,” Tank said. “I was wondering if he made up that orb story just to—you know.”

  The professor removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand why an orb would enter his office—no logic in that. He hasn’t been in contact with the fungus. And he knows nothing about our work aside from what he’s learned from Andi. Which brings up something else—” He shifted his gaze to me. “Maybe it’s not a good idea for him to hypnotize you again. You could tell him far too much.”

  Tank’s brow furrowed. “I’m not following you.”

  “Andi will explain the latest developments later. But it’s not logical to have a spybot, if you want to call it that, follow someone with secondhand information if the primary source is available. If The Gate wanted to spy on us, it’d be more logical for them to have an orb follow Andi.”

  I closed my eyes, thinking of the orb in the birdcage. What if the thing had been abandoned on purpose? It had been with us for days, so it had seen and heard all kinds of things . . .

  “What . . . if . . .” Brenda spoke slowly, as if easing into her thoughts—“the dark powers of The Gate have somehow been drawn to the doctor through Andi? I mean, he was just one of seven billion people on the planet until Andi became his patient. But he’s a bright guy, he’s from Europe, and who knows how many people he has the potential to reach. If they wanted pets to carry the fungus to humans, why wouldn’t they want a guy from Scotland to carry it overseas?”

  The professor brought his finger to his lip. “That’s a surprisingly logical thought, Barnick. If The Gate started their work with the fungus here, they might want Dr. Drummond to carry a more polished specimen to Europe. If he could be exposed through Andi—”

  “But that’s not possible because the fungus is gone. I don’t have it any more.” I gave the professor a warning look. “Can we drop this discussion and get back to work?” When no one objected, I turned to Brenda. “By the way, I’ve spotted Gumby. Dr. Drummond drives with one on the dashboard of his car.”

  Brenda’s mouth opened and closed, like a fish gasping for air. “You’re kidding.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Tank asked. “I don’t think we should be involving a guy who—”

  “Wait. The figure in Barnick’s sketch—” The professor reached for his briefcase, then shuffled papers. “Here it is. This Gumby is twisted and mangled. Did Drummond’s look like this?”

  “No. His Gumby looked like Mr. Universe compared to that one.”

  “Then what you saw isn’t what Barnick saw. I must admit that it’s an improbable coincidence, but the images don’t match. So let’s move on.”

  I sighed and pushed hair out of my eyes. “Moving on, then. If you could all join me in the dining room—”

  “Guys?” The alarmed note in Brenda’s voice lifted the hairs on my arms. I turned to see her holding one of Daniel’s drawings. “I think you should all see this.”

  Tank and the professor joined me near the sofa. In the typical style of a ten-year-old, Daniel had drawn the image of Hamish Drummond, identifiable by his black hair, dark pants, and white shirt. He stood behind a flat two-dimensional table, but behind the doctor, on the wall, Daniel had drawn three frowning shadow creatures.

  The sight of them gave me the willies.

  “Daniel,” Brenda asked, smiling gently. “Who are these people?”

  Daniel glanced at the picture, then shrugged.

  “Did you see them?”

  He nodded.

  “Are they, um”—Brenda struggled for the right word—“bad?”

  Daniel shook his head. “No duch.”

  “Are they good? Like the invisible guy who hangs out with you sometimes?”

  Daniel shook his head again. “No anioł.”

  “So you don’t know who they are?”

  This time he lifted his head and met Brenda’s gaze straight on. “I don’t know,” he said, his eyes welling with tears. “I don’t.”

  Brenda smiled. “That’s okay, kid.”

  She consoled Daniel as the professor, Tank, and I tiptoed into the dining room for a quiet conference. “We know he sees supernatural beings,” I said, establishing known territory. “We know he’s seen evil manifestations—”

  “And angels,” Tank interrupted. “At least, that’s what I think they are.”

  “But he’s never been uncertain about what he sees . . . until now.”

  The professor scratched at his stubbled chin. “Maybe they aren’t manifestations. Maybe he’s exercising artistic license.”

  Tank guffawed. “He’s never done that before.”

  “He’s ten,” the professor pointed out. “Every day he does something he’s never done before.”

  “Maybe they’re a kind of spirit he’s never met,” I suggested. “Aren’t supernatural beings sorted into classes? After all, the angels have cherubim and seraphim and archangels . . .”

  As one, we turned and studied the boy, who was drawing another picture. “If some kind of dark force is following Hamish because of me,” I whispered, “I—we—have to help him find a way to be free.”

  I made my big announcement after I’d placed the orb cage in the utility room where it couldn’t listen to our conversation. I don’t know if it heard things—could it possibly have some sort of auditory mechanism?—but I didn’t want to take a chance.

  The professor didn’t react to my news; he simply took another sip of his coffee and set his mug back on the table. Brenda and Tank stared at me with puzzled looks—they knew I’d stumbled onto something big, but they couldn’t quite grasp the significance. But they would soon enough.

  Daniel only looked up at me, smiled, and went back to drawing his pictures.

  “So,” I said, crossing my arms and settling back in my chair, “this is huge news, and it might actually help us locate The Gate.”

  “How’s that?” Brenda’s frown deepened. “You’ve lost me.”

  “I was lost at ‘I’ve had a breakthrough,’” Tank said, grinning. “Why don’t you start over?”

  “The orb,” I said slowly, “is made of living material. You’ve seen it expand and contract—it’s actually been growing and shrinking. It has healed its injuries. You’ve seen it fly purposefull
y. For all I know it may be transmitting information to its creators.”

  “Is that why it’s in the utility room?” Brenda said. “You think it’s a spy?”

  I shrugged. “I suspect that it was told—or commanded or programmed—to watch over Dr. Mathis, which it did until Tank smashed it in the lab. Now that it’s had time to heal, it may not have a command to follow. It may be waiting. It may be looking for an opportunity to escape and go back to its programmer or whatever. Its creator.”

  “You think someone created this?” The professor narrowed his eyes, but at least he had begun to consider my hypothesis. “Last night you were talking about aliens.”

  “We can’t rule that out,” I said, “because as you pointed out last night, no one has ever found anything like this in nature. Maybe it’s a machine-human hybrid.”

  “Whoa.” Tank held up both hands in a defensive posture. “Now you’re talkin’ Terminators One, Two, and Three.”

  I blew out a breath. “Science fiction gets a lot of stuff right. But the orb”—I pointed toward the utility room—“is a living thing. So we have to treat it as such.”

  “How is this supposed to help us find The Gate?” These latest developments must have shaken Brenda, because she had popped her unlit cigarette into her mouth. “Don’t tell me you want to let it go and see where it lands.”

  “No—but that’s not a bad idea, if we could find a tracking device.” I lifted a brow. “I was thinking about money. If you were a secret organization and you came up with an amazing and totally unique substance like living metal, what would you do with it?”

  “Sell it,” Tank said. “You’d want to make a lot of money.”

  “Control it.” Brenda tapped her nails on the tabletop. “You wouldn’t want your secrets to get out. You’d guard them. Watch out for industrial espionage and that kind of thing.”

  “I’d patent it,” the professor added. “If it’s an actual life form, or even a hybrid, you’d patent the process and the result.”

  “Yes, yes, and yes.” I grinned at all of them. “And wow, is it ever good to be back. I feel like my brain is finally working at full power.”