by Eli Constant
For having winged it, what I said didn’t sound like complete bullshit. Good for me. I was about to retreat to my seat- ears back and tail tucked firmly between my butt cheeks. But, of course, someone had to ask a freaking question. Shoot.
“Quick question, Mrs. Swanson.” O’Toole stopped me with his insipid, condescending voice. “Despite your obvious experience deficiencies, you are the most qualified person here… in this respect. You’ll be heading up the next steps of our research. Do you feel capable of this?” A thinly veiled criticism, posing as a face-slap, posing as a query. Freedom of choice went down the free-world crapper. Thanks a lot, undergrounders.
I answered his slight with a simpering:
“I’ll do my best, but we southern folk aren’t nearly as smart as you big shot scientists. Are you sure you want someone so deficient and inexperienced handling something this important?” I put my hand to my chest as I indicated myself.
My comment was rewarded by a snicker or two and a very displeased look from Dr. O’Toole. He was really living up to his name: O’Toole, the old tool.
This would prove to be another moment I’d look back on with a changed perspective of the doctor.
Thank God the meeting was over and had been short. It was a bit after eleven and I wanted to return to the fun room and see how my girls were handling the change of pace. It had been some time since they’d both been able to interact socially with other children. I hoped I’d have time to take them to lunch.
The good doctors had other plans for me though.
As soon as my palm hit the door to open it and exit the conference room, O’Toole called me back.
Apparently, my write up was needed ASAP. He asked for the materials list first. He literally made me sit down, right then, and list things. It took me forever; my brain not ready for the challenge.
After reading over the list, O’Toole assured me that most of the items could be scrounged up within the complex. That bummed me out, because it meant I’d be bent over a microscope with a tiny pair of tweezers and a welding tool sooner than expected.
After giving O’Toole the list, he took me to a nearby room with a computer. It took me a little over an hour to type up a synopsis of my work at AB&T. Both O’Toole and Peters stayed with me, occasionally looking over my shoulder at the computer screen. Which was really freaking annoying.
When I was finished, I less than politely informed my new coworkers that I was going to lunch with my daughters and, if they didn’t like it, they could ‘find someone else with experience in micro engineering for biological applications.’
That shut O’Toole and Peters up and I happily strolled off to grab some grub with two wonderful dining companions.
It was after twelve o’clock now. Allison had probably already taken them to the cafeteria, but I’d check the entertainment room and nursery first, just in case. I wondered what was on the lunch menu today. My stomach grumbled in anticipation.
The girls were actually still in the entertainment room when I arrived. Megan ran up to me; she looked so happy. Kara was sound asleep in the nursery. The sight of her in a proper crib was almost too beautiful.
I left her there, looking angelic. She’d be hungry when she woke up, but I just couldn’t find it in my heart to wake her.
Jason Chambers
Elise was pissed at me and I didn’t know why.
I’d shown interest in the research. I could see the logic of it. She was being stubborn and idealistic.
Why couldn’t she see that domestication or integration might be the key to our survival? The world couldn’t be the way it was before. Humans were no longer top of the food chain. Jesus! Sometimes… sometimes. Sometimes, she got on my last nerve.
Being on the road had been easier. Elise and I had always been allied against the undergrounders with no reason for dissension. Now, she thought I was favoring the beasties and meeting her ‘sense of right’ with my ‘obvious wrong.’
It was like my brief showing of interest had canceled out everything we’d faced together. Canceled out the struggles, the conversations, the touches…
I’d never felt this way about my ex-wife. Of course, Shana had been a t-total bitchoid. I’d written her off easily and with the same finality I’d felt signing my name to the divorce papers. But Elise…
Elise was a whole other brand of female. She thought the doctor’s pet beastie, Sheila, was unnatural. How about a woman who could look beautiful without makeup, beat bad guys to a pulp, and was smart to boot? I doubted there was one Elise in every billion Barbie dolls.
With that uniqueness came really, really frustrating qualities: like her inability to listen rationally if the conversation steered away from her desired destination.
‘Oh, he has a different viewpoint; I need to interrupt him and set him straight. Oh, he has a small smudge on his face; I’m going to rub it until its red and raw.’
Elise was a dead-horse beating, rotten-carcass kicking, and stubborn, infuriating woman.
And on top of everything else, Elise had the nerve to act surprised when her shiny, black boots of indignation sunk into stinky, rotten horse flesh. Yep, she was a woman who got on her soap box and talked an issue to death… and then some.
How could I make her see?
If scientists could humanize the undergrounders or control them, then it wouldn’t be species against species anymore. We’d have a world with two species, cut from the same cloth, with slight variations- just like one person can have blue eyes and another brown.
Elise had hazel eyes… beautiful moss green orbs with golden flakes that caught the light when she smiled. But last night… last night I could have choked her pretty neck and watched those eyes go silent.
And then this morning at breakfast! How dare she give me the cold shoulder.
Maybe she was regretting our intimate moment. I hadn’t asked her to dress my wound. She did that herself. She was just like every other woman in that way: flighty, emotional, and so confusing!
No one could hear the screaming in my head, the irritation. Which was good. Wouldn’t want my new coworkers thinking I’d lost my marbles.
I was sitting at a work table in the hangar.
One of the K-Max helicopter drones- used for routine visual scouting in the park- had a major glitch. The engine would turn over; it would lift off the ground, but it stalled before it could hover four feet. I’d spent all morning trying to figure out the problem.
I sat, staring at the chopper drone.
Most of the mechanisms and parts were similar to a traditional manned chopper. That didn’t help me at all though. I was an auto mechanic. Well, at least I was a quick learner.
We’d checked everything from the simplest problems- defunct battery, clogged filter system (not that that would ground a plane)- to the most complicated issues- broken hover needle, hesitation in blade rotation. The K-Max was traditionally used for cargo runs, but that’s what was available. So NORAD tossed on a couple camera systems and ta-da: NORAD’s version of a surveillance drone- except MUCH bigger.
I was at a standstill now and alone.
Michael had been helping me all morning, reading the blueprints, and acting as my road guide, but he’d been drafted for grunt work in the stock room half an hour ago.
I’d checked everything I could think of… it wasn’t a mustang engine for Christ’s sake.
My frustration was compounded by Colonel Benson popping in every ten minutes to ‘check’ on my progress. The man was a behemoth. I was a big man myself, but when 6 foot 5 of beefy muscle is bent over your work station and staring at you- well, anyone would get a bit put off their game.
It was a little after lunch time, so I set aside the frustrations and headed for the cafeteria. I was hoping and… not hoping to see Elise. I didn’t want to instigate another argument, but Elise brought out my confrontational side.
Elise was there eating with Megan.
“Where’s Kara?”
Elise deigned to look at
me. By God, she even allotted me a response longer than one word.
“When I went to get her in the nursery, she was asleep.”
“Will she eat later then? I can go get her if you need me too.” I latched onto Elise’s shift in attitude, trying to pull her further out of her shell.
Allison had just arrived with Michael. They sat down with their food. Her fork was ready to attack her tray of baked beans and sliced spam.
“I’d be happy to get her, Elise, and I’m sorry I couldn’t get to the girls before you for lunch. I’d really planned on getting them like you asked, but I was asked to help in the laundry room.” She paused, took a bite of beans and continued speaking, her mouth half-full.
“My entire morning has consisted of taking clothes out of washers and putting them in dryers. And then I get to perform the very important task of folding the clothes.” Allison’s words were sarcastic, but I got the impression that she enjoyed being productive.
Elise’s voice made me stop looking at Allison.
“Sounds taxing. And thank you both for the offer, but I haven’t seen Kara all day. I’ll probably go back to the nursery after lunch.” She smiled at Allison, but simply nodded in my direction.
A genuine smile for Allison and I was getting waves of indifference.
I forced myself to look away from Elise. My eyes focused on Megan. “How was your morning, Megan?”
I put a ton of effort into listening to the enthusiastic and rushed description of Megan’s day.
Apparently, she’d gotten into a dance-off with a couple of older kids, beaten her friend, Beth, in checkers and read two books. She’d also met the teachers and gotten a packet of worksheets for math and grammar practice.
“Sounds like you’ve had an awesome day so far.” I smiled at Megan and she gave me a full ear-to-ear grin. “What are you doing after lunch?”
“All the kids are getting together in the movie room.”
“Great. Hope the movie’s good.”
“Mom, can I go back now? I’ve finished all my food.” Elise surveyed Megan’s plate and nodded.
“Remember the way back?”
Megan looked like a living bobble-head. Elise laughed and her laugh soaked through my skin and ran through my veins like oxygen.
“Okay. I’ll be there in about half an hour to check on Kara. Love you.” Megan yelled ‘love you’ back as she hopped from the table and bounced out of the cafeteria.
Michael and Allison left shortly after Megan. I felt abandoned. Elise said nothing; I said nothing.
A moment of silence lengthened into an eternity of quiet. The space between me and Elise at the table grew ever bigger. Eventually, Elise’s head looked like a tiny pin prick in my vision, an illusion across a deep chasm. I felt like I was having a pseudo-acid trip.
I was sobered from my strange reverie by Elise clearing her throat.
“Jason, not that I care, but are you okay?”
I blinked and looked at her.
“Yeah… yeah I’m fine.” I half mumbled it and averted my eyes. Lately, despite her being pissed, I had a hard time looking away from her. It was almost a physical pain.
“We’ve been sitting together for half an hour. You haven’t asked me about my meeting.”
“After last night do you blame me?”
Typical woman. Pissed at me for showing interest in the research, but now wondering why I wasn’t showing interest. Damned if you do…
“I may have overreacted slightly. I just don’t see how you can see Sheila as anything, but an affront to humanity. Her species is trying to exterminate the human race. We shouldn’t be playing God by altering the undergrounders.”
“So what do we do Elise? Just let them continue to run rampant? Try to kill them all? Because if that’s your plan, then you are absolutely facilitating human genocide, not preventing it. They can be killed just like us, but now their numbers are vastly greater. They took us by complete surprise.” My hands were in motion now; they always moved when I was passionate about what I was saying.
“Before we even realized what was happening, a gross portion of our population was dead and lying at our feet in non-traditional graves. We have to find a solution other than kill on sight. The doctors are just exploring other avenues.”
Elise looked down at the table, shaking her head. The small movement seemed a bit defeated.
“I know… I know. It just strikes me as so abysmal, so wrong. That thing… that female beastie was in a freaking sun dress. They treat her like she’s something precious.”
“Well, isn’t she? Elise, before all this happened, if a singular undergrounder had been discovered and brought into captivity, wouldn’t science consider it to be a monumental find- something special to be treated with care, to be researched and analyzed?”
I looked at her, willing her to see beyond her prejudice. She was quiet for a moment, her face a moving picture of warring emotions, conflicting thoughts.
“I just can’t look at it objectively. David’s dead. My children are fatherless because of those monsters. Every time I think of that… that creature iced over in yellow cotton and lace, I want to scream.” Her face was hard, the lines in her forehead crinkled severely.
I felt that fundamentally Elise understood the steps the doctors were taking. She could maybe even accept the ‘why’ behind the direction of the research, but her deeply planted emotions obscured her sense of logic. So she didn’t even try to be logical. Instead, she stagnated in her anger, letting her frame of mind be that of a wife and a mother and not of a scientist.
I looked at her, probed the nuances of her muscle twitching- the throbbing of a right temple vein, the tick-tick of her left eyelid. I knew her resistance was waning. She would help move the project forward as best she could. Her misgivings would be pushed down, swallowed dutifully.
She’d told me what the doctors had said about her ability to stay at NORAD if she refused to assist. In the long run, she really didn’t have a choice.
So I dropped the argument and let her enjoy her token outrage and resistance. Looking in her eyes, I could tell that she knew, just as I knew, that it was only a matter of time.
“They want me back in the lab tonight.”
“I’ll be in the room with the girls. Don’t worry about that. Colonel Benson has me working on a defunct drone chopper. I’m almost burnt for the day. He told me to quit early and get a good night sleep- hit the ground running tomorrow.”
“Make sure Kara has Mr. Grubbykins. And make sure that Megan…”
“I know. Make sure Megan brushes her teeth and says her prayers. Sugar and spice and everything nice.” I gave her a lopsided smile; the ice in her eyes melted the tiniest bit.
“I was going to say make sure Megan goes to bed by 9:30, but that works too.” She gave me a grudging smile. “You know, we worked so hard to get here and now I sort of wish we’d kept heading towards Alaska CANADA! instead.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
We parted ways at the table of water coolers and snacks. I could tell Elise wasn’t completely over our fight, but we were on the mend. I reached out and squeezed her forearm. “I’m always here, Elise. I may not be David, but I’m here.”
“You’re certainly not David. I wouldn’t want you to be David.” She pulled her arm gently away from my hand. And I watched her as she walked away.
My stroll back to the hangar was a lonely one. The consistent white and steel walls stretched in front of me monotonously. With nothing to visually stimulate me, I began to think. Thinking is never good.
Before finding Michael in Billings, I’d told Elise about the night I’d found Shana’s blood all over our old bedroom. I hadn’t told her everything though.
Our first night after reuniting, Michael had asked me if his mother was dead. I think he knew the answer, but he needed to hear it from me, from my lips.
I felt like I owed him an explanation. I hadn’t found him; I hadn’t kept searching, because I�
�d thought he was dead.
I’d thought that all that blood couldn’t be from one person and somewhere in the mixture of browning wetness, was AB- and the genetic code that read ‘Michael.’
In graphic detail, because Michael had insisted, I’d described the scene.
He’d wept over hearing his mother’s screaming; he wept because he’d done nothing to save her. Despite all her flaws, all her ruinous behavior, she’d been his mother.
I couldn’t console him and my heart broke to give him the information he’d asked for.
Looking back on that long night of driving, I wished I’d refused him or lied to him.
He acted so grown up, but under the weight of my words, he looked like a broken child. I should have wandered the streets looking for him, but I hadn’t. In my grief, I hadn’t looked. I hadn’t hoped against hope that he’d escaped somehow and was sitting on a street corner waiting for me.
The worst part was that I’d gone to Milton’s Pharmacy the following day before dawn. I’d broken in the front door and grabbed supplies. All that time, my son had been huddled in a dumpster twenty feet away.
Fate was cruel and I’d walked away with only aspirin and antibiotics.
That information- the idea that I had been so close to my son without knowing it- had been my breaking point during our conversation. I had become the inconsolable weeper then.
He and I had exchanged battle scars and stories- an endless string of horror scenes with moments of unexpected levity. Our father-son reunion was bittersweet… mostly sweet, because he was alive.
We’d lost seven months, but it seemed like years. Looking at my son, I knew I could no longer treat him like an incapable teenager. That realization made the dramatic shift of our world tangible for the first time.
Bloody fights, missing persons, endless strips of untraveled roads, and unpeopled towns hadn’t hit home. But re-learning my son made everything come into sharp focus.
Walking through the hangar doors, I saw Michael had beaten me there; apparently his stock room duty was finished for the day. He was talking to a young man and they were both hovering over the K-Max blueprints. When I approached, the young man turned with a triumphant smile.