Diffusion

by Stan C. Smith

  Quentin touched Addison’s face and felt cool, unfamiliar flesh. “Are you okay?”

  Lindsey came to Quentin’s side. “Addison, can you see us?”

  Ashley’s cry came from behind them. “Someone help! Bobby’s choking!”

  Gurgling coughs came from Bobby’s body. Quentin looked to Samuel for help. “Samuel, can that medicine of yours help him?”

  “I will do what I can. Do not fear the indigenes. They will not harm you, for now.” Without further explanation, Samuel turned his attention to Bobby. The Papuan men gathered around Addison, uncomfortably close in Quentin’s opinion.

  “Addison, can you speak?” Lindsey said. He turned his head to face her, and she clutched Quentin’s arm. Addison’s face was that of a corpse.

  Addison’s eyes shifted from one of them to the other as they spoke, but milky corneas shrouded his pupils. A garbled sound came from his throat and then turned into coughing.

  “It’s okay, son,” Quentin said. “Don’t try to talk.”

  Something brushed Quentin’s elbow, and there was Mbaiso. The creature pushed past him until it was nose to nose with Addison. Mbaiso sniffed him a few times, and Addison’s eyes seemed to focus on the animal as the snout almost touched his lips. Quentin started to push the tree kangaroo away.

  “Fano! Mbolop manop.” One of the Papuans handed his spear to the others and motioned for them all to back away from Addison and the tree kangaroo. The man did not seem threatening, and Quentin took note of his appearance for the first time. Like the Papuans he’d seen with Samuel, his face was smooth. He wore traditional adornments, but his most striking feature was the array of green feathers woven into his hair, flaring out like an emerald pincushion.15

  The tree kangaroo sniffed at Addison’s face again, pushing higher onto its haunches. Addison tried once more to speak, which led to more coughing. Mbaiso sat back, as if studying the situation. And then its diminutive forearms began moving. They danced with graceful movements that could not be mistaken for random, unthinking motion.

  “Quentin,” Lindsey hissed in his ear. “What the hell?”

  Quentin nodded. “It can talk.”

  “It can talk,” she repeated.

  Addison watched with a stony face as the kangaroo continued gyrating its arms.

  Ashley’s voice rose from the group gathered around Bobby. “Oh God, Bobby!”

  Quentin pivoted to see Samuel set a bloodstained spear onto the ground next to Bobby’s body. Samuel’s hands were also red. Quentin hesitated for a moment, and then turned his attention back to Addison.

  The Papuan men squatted side by side, intently watching Mbaiso. The creature paused its hand motions, but Addison only stared. Mbaiso sat back, apparently giving up. It scratched at its abdomen with the nails of both forepaws, as if digging at fleas.

  “I mbakha!” the green-headed Papuan said, pointing at Mbaiso.16

  The kangaroo’s digging claws punctured its own flesh. And they kept digging, working their way deep into the abdomen. The claws suddenly pulled a chunk of flesh loose. Mbaiso eyed it for a moment, as if inspecting it. The glistening flesh quickly turned dark, leaving a formless brown mass. With a very human gesture, the creature extended its forepaws, offering the substance to Addison.

  For the first time since awakening, Addison demonstrated a purposeful behavior. He grabbed the chunk of Mbaiso’s body, shoved it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

  Lindsey started forward. “Quentin, he’s—”

  “Mbolop manop,” interjected the Papuan. His tone was firm.

  Quentin looked at Mbaiso’s abdomen. There was no gaping hole and no blood.

  Addison’s emotionless gaze slowly drifted from Mbaiso to the assortment of people surrounding him. When his eyes met Quentin’s, the gray clouds were rapidly vanishing.

  As the sun heated the under-canopy into a sauna, the white noise shifted from the chatter of morning birds to the drone of midday insects. Quentin had begun to believe that the clockwork regularity of this pattern could drive a person mad. But today he hardly noticed. The insects still would not bite him, the heat was less stifling, and the morning’s events were more extraordinary than any past experiences of his life.

  Bobby was alive, in spite of the enormity of his chest wound. His pulse and breathing were strong, though he was unconscious. Samuel insisted on leaving the wound open to the air, and during the last few hours the tissue had grown together, healing itself before their eyes.

  Quentin chewed the last meat from the dorcopsis leg bone in his hand. After Bobby had stabilized, Samuel had instructed Mbaiso to gather food. Within minutes, Mbaiso had herded two dorcopsis wallabies into their midst. The Papuans had promptly killed and butchered the creatures with a shaft of bamboo and their bare hands, and then cooked them over a low, nearly smokeless fire. They’d all devoured the meat as if it were a Thanksgiving turkey, giving little thought to the stomach cramps incurred the last time they had eaten dorcopsis.

  They now sat around the extinguished fire, staring at the slight remains of the wallabies. Quentin wrapped one arm around Lindsey, thankful to have her back. Addison sat to his other side. Addison’s skin had regained its color, and his corneas had cleared up. But his pupils were dilated to enormous size, making his eyes appear black. He had barely acknowledged their attempts to talk to him. But he was alive. And the other students were as energetic as ever, including Miranda, who by all accounts should have been immobile for weeks or months.

  Minutes earlier, Samuel had disappeared into the forest with the three Papuan men. He now returned alone and settled to the ground across from Quentin. “When we arrive at the village of my hosts, I shall see that you are properly fed. A preponderance of flesh from the soyabu may produce abdominal distress.”17

  “We found that out already,” Carlos said. He had nevertheless eaten his share.

  Lindsey asked, “Where did the others go, Samuel?”

  “They have returned to their village to discuss matters. It seems your presence here utterly confounds them. We shall venture there when your companion wakes.” He motioned to Bobby, lying beside Lindsey. “The boy shows every appearance that we haven’t long to wait. You should ready yourselves.”

  “We have nothing to get ready,” Lindsey said. She explained the events of the morning—why they were left with nothing but the scraps of clothing tied to their bodies.

  “The loss of your belongings is regrettable.” Samuel said. “My hosts have little concern for possessions and contrivances.”

  “What is it they want from us?” Lindsey asked. “If they don’t have a radio or an airstrip, why are we going to their village? We need to get these kids to a hospital.”

  “Do they not seem to you to be healthy, madam?”

  “Yes, but I don’t understand why. Does this miracle cure have side effects?”

  “The poultice will result only in unreserved benefits to you all.”

  Lindsey wasn’t giving up. “So if you’re all about helping us, you’ll help us get to civilization?”

  Samuel hesitated. “We will soon be departing. You should ready yourself.”

  “I have nothing to get ready. I would like to know our plans!”

  As Lindsey spoke, she routinely brushed flies from her face and exposed skin. Quentin looked at the students. While everyone else’s arms were still, Ashley swiped at flies buzzing her face. Lindsey and Ashley, the only two not treated by Samuel’s medicine.

  Quentin got up and walked over to the remains of the plane. For a long moment he pondered the mound of soil that was once the Twin Otter’s fuselage. The stuff Samuel and the Papuans carried in their pouches could turn the fields of medicine and chemistry on their heads. But the world had no knowledge of it. This was not a lost tribe, yet to be discovered. The tribe had been discovered, possibly over and over again. But the world had no knowledge of this substance because no one had ever left this place to tell about it.

&n
bsp; Quentin turned back to the group. Physically, he felt more vigor than he had in days. But his mind was fatigued, staggering to keep pace with an unprecedented string of enigmas and disquieting revelations. He eyed Samuel, noting the Englishman’s apparent good-natured grace with Quentin’s family and students. Was Quentin capable of hurting such a man in order to protect them? At that moment he decided that he was. He would get his group out of here and back to civilization, even if he had to kill Samuel or anyone else who tried to stop them.

  Nine

  As if waking from a dream, Bobby was suddenly aware. But the dream continued. The sky was filled with stars, and there was no ground beneath him. The stars were endless, and Bobby sensed a deep loneliness. One star was closer, growing steadily larger. It swelled until he thought it might blind him. Near it was another object—a planet, with wisps of white and blue. He turned from the bright sun to watch the planet draw nearer, until his vision was filled with clouds and water and ice and land.

  Abruptly Bobby was back in the steaming forest. Mbaiso was there, leading him somewhere. The creature turned and waited for him to catch up and then went on. Finally, Mbaiso stopped next to a massive tree and turned his snout upward. At first Bobby saw nothing unusual, but then he made out a darker leafy area. Like a spirit leaving its body, he rose from the ground. A slit in the foliage appeared, and he entered. It was darker inside, but he could see that he was in a room, with walls and floor made of living branches and vines. A thick trunk of the tree protruded through the floor. The trunk split into two limbs at chest level, and both limbs rose up and out the ceiling. The trunk was swollen at the split, like a large termite nest. As Bobby stared, a feeling of knowing washed over him. It was definitely not a termite nest.

  Something squeezed Bobby’s hand and pulled him out of his dream. He opened his eyes, and the grip on his hand tightened.

  “Hey, he’s awake!” It was Ashley. Her curly hair framed her face as she looked down at him.

  He blinked at her. “Ashley? I saw stars.”

  “I bet you did. You okay, science boy?”

  She dropped his hand as other faces appeared above him—the Darnells, Carlos, Miranda.

  “I saw stars,” he told them. “I was in the sky, then I came here.”

  Suddenly, memories flooded Bobby’s mind: Addison, Ashley, the Papuans—a spear in his chest. Bobby gasped. “He stabbed me!” He looked down at his chest. A scar was there, but it looked old. He turned to them. “I’m not dying?”

  Mr. Darnell smiled. It was a good, truthful smile.

  “This guy, Samuel, fixed you up,” Miranda said. “His medicine fixed all of us.”

  Bobby tried sitting up, and found that it was easy. “Addison’s okay, too?” He looked and there was Addison, upright and awake. “Hey, Addison.”

  Addison looked but didn’t smile. There was something different about his eyes. They were darker. And then Addison spoke. “Tell them, Bobby.”

  Everyone seemed surprised by this and they all turned to Addison.

  “Tell them what?” Bobby said.

  “About the stars.”

  “Addison, what are you talking about?” Mr. Darnell said.

  But Addison didn’t answer. He just waited.

  Addison’s stare made Bobby nervous, so he looked away. “It was my dream.”

  Mr. Darnell said, “You had a dream about stars, too?”

  “I dreamt about stars,” Miranda said. “There were stars, then the Earth, and then the jungle.”

  “I had that dream,” Carlos said. “There was this thing, like in a tree.”

  “Perhaps I might help elucidate these visions.” The voice was new to Bobby. A strange man emerged from behind the others. He was dressed like he lived in the forest but was not black like the Papuans and was not Indonesian. “The dreams are peculiar to your medicinal treatments.” He patted a pouch at his waist. “The poultice I carry possesses healing qualities, but is not without curious effects. I myself had the very dream of which you speak, long ago.”

  “Bobby, this is Samuel,” Mr. Darnell said.

  “Pleased to meet you, Bobby.” The man talked like he was reading lines from a play.

  “How could we all have the same dream?” Mr. Darnell said.

  Mrs. Darnell frowned at him. “You had this dream too?”

  Mr. Darnell nodded. “This morning. I was surrounded by stars. It seemed incredibly real. But then Samuel woke me up.”

  Samuel said, “Then the vision may revisit you, Quentin, until you have witnessed its conclusion. The vision will lead you to the very destination for which we are bound today.”

  Addison’s black eyes still stared directly at Bobby. “It will speak to you,” he said. “You should listen.”

  Mr. Darnell put his hands on Addison’s shoulders. “Son, what does that mean?”

  The black eyes turned to Mr. Darnell. “You won’t understand it.”

  For a moment no one spoke.

  “Curious,” said the half-naked white man named Samuel.

  The tree kangaroo studied the humans’ activities from a snug depression between two rotting logs where damp soil cooled it belly. Events were unfolding rapidly but in unpredictable ways. The recently arrived strangers displayed novel attributes, indicating they were yet another step in an accelerating progression. But yet some of them revealed impulses that could disrupt this progression. The tree kangaroo had observed such disruptions before—somewhat interesting although devastating to those who were unfortunate to be in the vicinity. Now, the behaviors of the one they called Addison could prove to be interesting as well.

  Again the afternoon sun gave way to clouds, and everything faded to gray. The forest made it impossible to walk side by side, so they hiked in single file as Samuel and Mbaiso led the group toward the village of the Papuans. Bobby brought up the rear. Mr. Darnell had asked him to, and this made Bobby feel important. Physically, he felt great. No more sore bruises, oozing cuts, or bug bites. He even had a belly full of wallaby meat. He felt like he could walk all the way to Jayapura.

  But they weren’t going to Jayapura. They were going to the Papuans’ village. Being stabbed by a spear was still fresh in Bobby’s mind. He wanted to believe it had been a mistake—perhaps if they had spoken the same language, the fight wouldn’t have happened. But he still feared what might happen at the village.

  As they pushed on, the group became quiet and gradually spread out. Like Bobby, the others seemed to have their own thoughts. Carlos began humming a familiar song that Roberto’s band used to play in their basement. It cheered Bobby up to see him acting normal again.

  “Hey Bobby, what did the kangaroo say when someone cut off his tail?”

  “What?”

  “It won’t be long now. And Addison, where did he go to get a new tail?” There was no answer. “To the retailer, man.”

  “You’re so funny that I wallaby your friend,” Bobby said.

  Carlos stopped to poke at a covered termite trail running up the trunk of a tree. He broke a hole in the tunnel. “Look at those little mothers,” he said. “Probably think I’m their god or something.” He flicked one of the termites off the tree. “You will obey me!”

  Bobby laughed. “Bite him, guys! He’s not koala-fied to be a god.”

  “You insulted their god, man. You gotta pay.” Carlos held out his hand, fingers hooked and thumb straight up. “This hand was busted to bits. Think you can beat it?”

  The hand looked almost normal, but Bobby wasn’t sure he should mess with it. He looked ahead to see if the teachers were watching. He saw only Addison, looking back at them, so he grabbed Carlos’s hand, ready to thumb-wrestle. Addison walked back to where they stood, and Bobby released Carlos’s hand. Addison looked at the termites on the tree.

  “Those are my subjects,” Carlos told him. “They worship me.”

  The termites were now swarming around the hole in their tunnel. Suddenly Addison rubbed his hand
on the tree, killing them. Then he licked the smashed bodies from his palm.

  “Now they worship me,” he said.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Carlos said.

  Addison stared at his palm and then licked a few termites he had missed.

  Bobby said, “Addison, your mom and dad are worried about you. We are too.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you may have brain damage,” Carlos said.

  “Do you remember things?” Bobby asked him. “Things before the plane crashed?”

  “I remember flying. And I saw the other plane. Then we crashed.”

  “You’re messed up,” Carlos said. “There was no another plane.”

  They were interrupted by Mr. Darnell’s shout. “Hey, you guys, is Addison okay?”

  Bobby looked at Addison. “Well, are you?”

  Addison licked his hand again.

  Bobby shouted back, “Yeah, I guess so. We’re coming.”

  The three boys stayed together as they walked. As Bobby looked ahead he got a glimpse of Mbaiso jumping between trees. “I feel like I know just where we’re going,” he said.

  Carlos leapt into the air, trying to touch a pair of seedpods hanging from a tree. “I know, too. It’s from our dream.”

  Bobby jumped at the seedpods, easily grabbing one loose even though they were at least a meter above his head. His chest wound tingled a little, but it didn’t really hurt.

  Carlos nodded toward the other seedpod. “Your turn, Addison.”

  “Can’t eat those,” Addison said.

  “I don’t want to eat them. I just want to see if you can jump.”

  Bobby held up the green seedpod. “How do you know we can’t eat these?”

  Addison’s black eyes seemed to stare through Bobby, like they were looking at something behind him. “Kembakhi,” he said.