Primal Estate: The Candidate Species

by Samuel Franklin

  “Eee!” A squeak came from Nwella. To her credit, she continued her graceful waltz toward the barn but with a little less grace, quicker, and with a slight limp. Rick lost her form as it moved out of the moonlight and into the darkness of the outbuilding. He imagined her throwing herself to the ground once she reached the interior, wondering how the hell she was going to save face on this one.

  Once inside, he found her reclined, elegantly, in a fresh pile of alfalfa hay, the result of numerous bales broken open, beckoning him with her outspread arms. Rick looked down at her feet, knowing what he would find, but couldn’t see in the dim light. Taking in a full draught of the sexual feast before him, he knelt at her feet, held and examined them, and, much to her relief and embarrassment, slowly, carefully, began to pull out the potato cactus.

  He could barely see that she had one cactus pad on the bottom of her left foot and a crumpled dried one under the toes on her right. And who knows how many isolated thorns were elsewhere that he couldn’t see. It must have been extremely painful, Rick knew. He couldn’t take her inside for more light; it would alert the others. Shainan would go berserk. The dogs, because of their natural hatred for the Provenger and Shainan’s likely fear or anger, would probably attack Nwella, and Carson would witness an extremely poor example of fatherhood.

  Rick took the easy way out. He worked carefully in the dim reflected moonlight, barely able to see. When the large pieces were pulled off and only the deeper thorns remained, he gently blew on her feet, removing the desert dust as best he could.

  Rick’s hands were hard from his many rigorous outdoor activities and ill-suited to sensing small filaments and thorns in the dark. The mouth, on the other hand, is a remarkable, resilient organ, best suited for and capable of the most delicate work. In the dark, with his lips and tongue, he patiently searched for and found each and every thorn, the large and the small.

  He searched the sole of her foot slowly with his lips, around the sides and among the toes. She had soft, delicate, and perfectly-shaped feet. Rick had always been more of a leg man, but this was definitely doing something for him. Once the general location of each thorn was known, he would isolate its location with his tongue and pull it out with his teeth. He never knew foreplay could be so practical.

  Nwella was tense at first. This wasn’t how she’d intended to seduce him. She wasn’t in control. This wasn’t her plan. But slowly she relaxed. She stretched out and put her head back, closing her eyes, wriggling her torso to burrow in the hay for warmth. She stretched her hands above her head and swept hay around her.

  Nwella could see Rick beginning to shiver in the cool night air. This was a human she could trust. A warmth she’d never felt enveloped her, and caring she’d never known consumed her. An emotion humans called compassion and love overwhelmed her. It had nothing to do with her being just a deviant Provenger. It had everything to do with the seed growing within her, the miraculous product of the passionate rape of an unconscious Rick Thompson, fresh from the regenerative effects of the Recombinant, a machine designed to perfect Provenger DNA. The union that could not happen, the bonding that was never to be, had conceived life in the most unusual of circumstance. The child within her was of the Earth, and all that were of the Earth had souls. And the soul within her womb was powerful, and it was becoming one with her.

  Rick and Nwella made love and then talked briefly, then made love again as they spoke of things she hadn’t thought possible. Clinging to each other and buried in the warmth of the hay, they shared their heat and their thoughts, fused in body and mind, as though they were two young lovers on the run from angry parents with no one else to trust. With the cold circling beyond them, they shared ideas until the glow of the sun pushed the night away and the reality of worlds colliding called for her to leave. They had talked about the Project, Nwella’s impression of humans thousands of years ago, and the troubles her father was having with humans being medicated. They laughed together at Synster, that he had made her Rick’s handler.

  Rick asked her why she slept with him while he was sedated after the Recombinant. She had no answer; she could not answer. Rick found her to be irresistible, dangerous, and exhilarating. She was a freak, and he could identify with that. He liked it.

  As Barnes and Nobelle charged across the lawn for their morning romp, Nwella was in her gravitational bubble, looping back to her cell on the Provenger Nation Ship. She was the first Provenger to have a soul, and she had no idea.

  As the dogs ran to the shed, looking for their master, Rick was sitting on a bale, thinking and growing cold. He already missed her warmth. Funny how things work out, he thought. All this hay was just delivered yesterday.

  Chapter 26

  A very strAnge pArty

  It was a Saturday morning and Rick had just come in from some chores. The phone rang and he waited for the machine to pick up. It was Tony.

  “Rick, you there? Rick, pick up please...”

  “What’s going on, you nut?” asked Rick with friendly words and tone while feeling complete irritation, grinding his teeth, enraged that Tony had called him again. “I thought we’d planned to talk later. Doesn’t anyone know how to carry on a conversation anymore?” grilled Rick, trying to cryptically convey to Tony without outright calling him an idiot, annoyed with the second breach in their agreed method of contact.

  “Rick, my sister…she was in Mexico, they got her… it got her, there was a sinkhole, and I can’t reach her. Haven’t been able to for days. I’m pretty sure she’s gone!” Tony detailed, with a distinctive tone of anger and grief in his voice.

  Two days earlier, an entire small town in the Yucatan in Mexico had been swallowed by a collapse of the earth beneath it. Almost no one was recovered. When Rick had seen it on the news, he suspected the Provenger.

  “Tony, calm down. I’m sure she’s fine,” Rick lied. “She’ll probably call soon. Keep in mind, there’s probably a lot going on down there, and phone lines could be out, towers down.”

  From sighs and grunts in response to Rick, Tony sounded like he was getting even more wound up.

  “Tony, lets meet at the Main Street Brewery. I’ll buy and we can talk some things over.” Rick decided to throw his clandestine methods out the window this time. Thanks to his relationship with Nwella, he didn’t need them anymore.

  Rick scheduled the meeting with Tony for later that evening and hung up. He had a long day ahead of him. Rick was going to have some visitors from Washington.

  Tony hung up, disappointed again. He hadn’t known Rick for long. In fact, the only time he’d really had to get to know him was from their first meeting down in the canyon. The Rick he’d met then was a boiling cauldron of venomous hatred for the Provenger, a guy who’d been put through so much that he could barely hold himself together. What had happened to that energy, that devotion to the cause? Rick had told him about Synster’s threats if he didn’t cooperate, but they’d agreed that everyone would probably end up getting killed or eaten anyway. Rick seemed to be withdrawing from his original commitment. And Tony’s frustration was magnified with the loss of his sister.

  Rick is moving too slowly, Tony thought. I need to get him to take action. The longer these Provenger get away with taking people, the bolder their actions will get, the more people they’ll take, and the closer we’ll get to the end. I must convince Rick that we need to take this to the next level immediately, and maybe even take it public. Get proof somehow, show the world. If everyone is alerted at once, maybe we’d have a fighting chance.

  Tony slowly calmed. He thought about his sister and figured he’d better call his mother; she’d probably be worried. As he reached for the phone, it began to ring. He picked it up.

  “Tony, its Mom. Have you heard from your sister?”

  “No, Ma, but I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “I’m worried, Tony.”

  “Don’t be, Ma. You know things are probably bad there, phone lines down and all...”

  “But her cell phon
e works, she’s ca…”

  “Ma, you know the towers go to land lines. Those could be out, and the lines could be flooded with other calls. Don’t worry. She’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna get yourself all wound up. You might feel better if you started your anxiety meds again.”

  “Tony, I already told you I don’t need those anymore, I feel fi…”

  “Okay, but I’m concerned about your heart. You probably should start taking your Lipitor, Ma.”

  “I’ve already told you I don’t need it anymore. Cholesterol isn’t the issue. Haven’t you been reading what I sent you about the Framingham study? What’s gotten into you Tony? You sound like a wreck.”

  “Nothing, Ma. I just want you to be okay,” Tony replied.

  Mrs. Carrian moved out of defensive mode and back into worry mode. “Let me know first thing when your sister calls. I’m worried sick about her.”

  “I will, Ma. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Tony.”

  “Bye.” Tony felt conflicted. If they’d gotten his sister, and if he was killed too, his mother would be devastated. He knew he couldn’t think about himself. He needed to think about his sister and his mother, and everyone else who might be taken. He hoped his mother was too old for them to eat.

  Tony’s attention turned back to Rick again. He would convince him to take some kind of action. If he was worried about the consequences to himself, then they’d work out a plan where Rick wouldn’t get exposed. It was just that simple; action had to be taken.

  It was 10:00 am and Rick had spoken to Tony not two hours before. He wasn’t sure if he’d been able to pacify him. Now, he had to dramatically switch gears. Rick sent Carson out in the Jeep to give Shainan a five-hour tour of the San Juan Range, with orders that under no circumstances was he to allow her contact with anyone, nor bring her back early. Rick would soon host the strangest party he’d ever had.

  He caught himself running around the house straightening things. He had the vacuum out, wondering whether or not he should dust the bookshelves in his living room when the reality struck him. He was about to have government bureaucrats snatched from the nation’s capital, all bigwigs that he didn’t know, except for his brother, who would be among them. Synster was going to grab them and surf them to his living room, where they would be disciplined, brought into the fold, and given their orders. They would be told what government policy they were going to recommend for the foreseeable future.

  Who the hell was gonna care what his living room looked like, he wondered? Synster was probably going to scare the shit out of them in some kind of Provenger initiation psycho suite of brainwashing techniques, then send them out with missions. With any luck, Rick wouldn’t have to clean feces and vomit off the floor when he was done.

  Rick felt foolish for his preparations. It’s not as though he needed to decide if he should serve red or white with the pepperoni and cheese appetizer, he thought, joking with himself. He’d just never had people from Washington visit before. With that realization, and the frustration that followed, he opened the sliding glass door and walked outside with the vacuum cleaner. Barnes and Nobelle followed him, sensing his intensity and knowing that something neat was going to happen.

  Rick took the vacuum by the handle with both hands and started swinging it while spinning like an Olympic hammer thrower. His release was intended for maximum height and distance. The moment the handle cleared his grip he started for the door to go back inside. He was halfway there before the appliance hit the ground. The dogs chased after as it vaulted through the air, thinking this was terrific fun.

  The way things were going, Rick thought, he’d probably be dead before needing the vacuum again. The stress in him was building. His mind was made up to keep his priorities straight. Nobody cared if the damned house was clean.

  Back inside, he closed and latched the door, then closed the blinds. The dogs would have to stay out. They could chew on the vacuum to their hearts’ content. It had been cast out. They’d never liked that thing, anyway. The age-old rivalry between Barnes and Nobelle, and the vacuum cleaner had entered its final chapter.

  Rick sat down and thought about what was going to happen. He needed to be prepared. He reclined on the couch and tried to think, going over scenarios in his mind. He looked at the clock on the wall. Synster would be there in an hour. He had his list prepared. He closed his eyes.

  Rick woke abruptly when he heard the now familiar sound of a low vibration and the soft glare of the milky aura that always accompanied the arrival of someone by Provenger transport. He sat up quickly and then jumped to his feet, trying to look like he hadn’t been sleeping, angry he’d been caught off guard. Had he gotten soft now that he was working for the bad guys?

  In front of Rick was his brother, David, and four other late middle-aged men. Synster stood next to Rick, a gray briefcase in his hand. David was dressed business casual and looked like he knew this was coming. The other four were a mix, obviously caught unaware. One was in a blue bathrobe and women’s fuzzy pink slippers. One was sweating profusely and wearing a t-shirt and gym shorts, looking like he must have been out for a jog. Another was in a dark suit and appeared to be on his way to a funeral. The last man must have still been in bed, wearing pajamas, and appeared ill and disheveled, and since he wreaked of alcohol, possibly recovering from a hangover, Rick speculated. They were all fat, red-faced, and trembling. Their shock was apparent, and they looked around at each other as though they’d just entered a nightmare of biblical proportions. Little did they know that they had.

  Rick was extremely apprehensive about what he imagined was about to occur. He had no idea if this would simply resemble a pep rally, or if these people were going to be murdered right there in his living room. Synster was to his right and was going to run this meeting. He’d told his new agent, Nwella, he wanted the satisfaction of personally interrogating them. Rick knew he was there to be introduced as the witness and, possibly, enforcer. He was supposed to keep his mouth shut.

  Not surprisingly, the very first thing Synster did was say, “Here, take these.” He tossed four tags to the unsuspecting victims. They dutifully caught them and the tags found their way immediately to their wrists. They were Synster’s prisoners. His brother David had one on his wrist, having already been initiated.

  Rick saw his brother glance at his wrist, observing that Rick didn’t wear a tag. Then their eyes met, and Rick noticed a look of surprise and questioning on David’s face.

  The four men began prying at the bands, trying to get them off. Here we go, thought Rick, with the apprehensive austerity of one who had already felt the soul-tearing pain of the tag.

  Synster, dressed in his traditional collar and skirt, gauntlets and sandals, looked just a little bit silly as he gestured for them to sit on Rick’s long, leather couch. If they felt the same way about Synster’s appearance, they wouldn’t think he was silly for long.

  As they sat, Hangover panicked and fell to the floor tearing at his new wrist band. Rick and David were embarrassed by his behavior and immediately scolded him, moved in, and got him seated. They wanted to get on with the mess they knew was coming. Finally, they were able to make him sit still, as the others looked on, wide-eyed, observing as though completely separate from the situation.

  Rick had been told nothing more by Synster than that this meeting would include top government professionals involved with government health care policy. Once things were calmed, Synster began. “My name is Synster the Provenger.” Yada yada yada, Rick thought. Synster gave them the same speech he’d gotten when he was first abducted, all the same threats. The guy who fell on the floor wet his pants, fouling the leather couch. When Rick made a slight movement to get a towel, Synster’s quick glance told him to stay. After about ten minutes, they were ready to proceed with the guts of the meeting.

  Rick could tell that Synster was enraged about humans being on so much medication, and he could see he wanted to take it out on these poor men. His organic crop had b
een ruined, and he wanted someone to which he could fix blame. When he was done with his introductory declarations and threats, he didn’t even ask them anything. He touched somewhere on his gauntlet and the men were writhing in pain. Rick couldn’t look at them as they convulsed on the floor. He knew how utterly ruthless the pain had been, and he refused to imagine how bad it must be for these men. Thinking too much about it actually made him shiver.

  Once the agony ceased and they’d climbed back to the couch, Synster began. “You are the men responsible for promoting the health of your people?” Synster asked with a foreboding that even these men knew would lead to more pain. They all looked at each other and immediately didn’t want to be responsible for anything. They nodded their heads, knowing that the population of this country was not doing well and expecting now to hear about it. Synster waited a moment and gave them another four-second pulse of pain. He then paced in front of them with his hands behind his back. “And…how do you think you are doing?”