Amoeba (The Experiments)

by Jacqueline Druga

  Cal rolled her eyes. “That’s because he’s a coward when it comes to you.”

  Billy quickly turned to Cal. “What did I do? I’m just being quiet.”

  “Do you think I’m fat?” Cal asked. “Be honest.”

  “No.” Billy shook his head and laughed “Cal, that is ridiculous. The only part about you that is growing is your . . .”

  “Oh, so now I’m growing. Thank you, Billy. Thank you very much for the vote of confidence.”

  “Cal!” Jake yelled at her. “Why are you yelling at him now? What the hell. Does this make you feel big or . . .”

  “Quit calling me fat!” Cal screamed at him.

  “I’m not calling you fat!” Jake had had enough. “I thought, now correct me if I’m wrong here, but I thought we left the female-style, premenstrual bitching shit behind. Don’t I get a break for nine months or something?”

  Judge had the answer. “No. And Jake, that is what I was trying to tell you. You have to learn to be sensitive.”

  “I am sensitive,” Jake said, speaking defensively.

  Judge held up his hand. “Women that are pregnant tend to get a bit . . . well, let me just tell you a little story. Now I distinctively remember it being my third child that my wife was carrying, and she became a vicious woman. Not that I minded now, she was carrying my child. But, one time I was playing cards down at the club. Blast! The door opened and in came Matilda, waddling her eight month pregnant self in, yelling at me in front of my fellow club members, pulling me out of there by my ear, and threatening to smear my re-election campaign.”

  Jake was baffled by this. “And during this reign of terror pregnancy, did you at all consider perhaps locking her in the house?”

  “You would say that,” Cal snapped at him.

  “And I have had just about enough verbal abuse directed my way from that mouth.” Jake pointed at Cal and stood up. “Say it.”

  “What?” Cal looked dumbfounded.

  “Say it.” Jake held one hand on his hip while he extended the other toward Cal. “Say it.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Thank you. Now I can rest. Good night.” Jake turned, stepped over his log, and headed to the bungalow. He slowed in his walk and turned back around to the now silent group. “Does anyone hear that?”

  Everyone looked up.

  “There.” Jake moved his head again to the faint sound. A high-pitched fluttering, as if the wings of a fast moving butterfly were amplified. “It’s sounds sort of like a whistle getting closer. Do you hear that?”

  “Cricket?” Lou guessed. “Sounds like a mutant cricket.”

  The sound grew closer and closer.

  “Have we seen a mutant cricket?” Jake asked. “I don’t think it’s that big. Maybe we . . .”

  The sound stopped. In the thick silence, a gurgle, slow and quick, came from Judge. Everyone turned their attention from the sound back to the campfire just in time to see Judge’s eyes grow wide and watch him drop face first off his log to the ground with a deadened ‘thump’.

  It was quiet. Almost too quiet. The sound of the burning fire. The flickering orange hue that lit Judge’s still body.

  Cal jumped up. “Jake.”

  “Watch out.” Jake grabbed her arm and wouldn’t let Cal step closer.

  Rickie grew antsy watching how slow Jake moved. “Sarge, like, hurry. Do some of that chest pounding shit. Judge had a heart attack.”

  “Rickie.” Jake whispered his name. “Step back.” Jake moved closer to Judge. “Something is not right.” He looked down at the still body, mouth open. Blood trickled from the corner of Judge’s eyes like tears. “Why are his eyes bleeding? Something isn’t . . .”

  Just as Jake began to squat, a slight ripping sound was heard. He turned his head to a snickering Rickie who commented that Jake’s pants were too tight. “Rickie, please.” The ripping grew louder then . . . Crack! It was like Judge’s skull literally burst at the seams. Pieces of his head flew out at the same time the rest of his body sucked in as if every ounce of life, liquid, and fat were sucked from him. His legs started to disintegrate from the feet up. And as Jake jumped back out of the way a loud humming, whistling sound came, sounding like multitudes of the sound they heard earlier. “Lou! Get Cal back!”

  On Jake’s words, the source of the noise was revealed when from out of Judge’s body poured what looked like a moving black blanket of small slimy creatures. Millions of them scattered out, hissing in their movement, scurrying about the ground.

  Rickie and Reed shrieked, dancing around and stepping on them. Lou swept Cal up into his arms and charged with her toward the bungalow, with Billy racing behind them. Jake, stepping on the tiny objects that flew about the ground, reached down to the camp fire for a log. As he did, one jumped on his hand, and Jake winced at the stinging pain he felt. He shoved his hand close to the fire and watched it drop off. He picked up the log, ignoring the burning to his palm, and held it out to the ground. The things cleared in a circle from the fire he shoved at them. Then Jake tossed the log about like a torch at the ground causing the things to join back together and very loudly and quickly speed off out of the campsite and into the woods.

  Just when Jake thought it was safe, just when the silence ensued again and there were no more noises heard from them, he spotted it on the ground near Judge’s body. Quickly, Jake picked up Lou’s tin coffee mug, dumped out its contents, and tossed it over the two inch, black slug looking thing.

  “Sarge.” Rickie out of breath approached him, first taking in the sight of what was left of Judge’s body. “What were they?”

  “I don’t know, Rickie.” Jake held firm to the bottom of the tin cup. “But we’ll find out.” He lifted the cup slightly, saw it was still there, then hurriedly placed the cup back down.

  Caldwell Research Center - Los Angeles, CA

  July 20th - 8:55 p.m.

  Nobody moved, not even Lancing, Judge’s investor. They all just sat staring in silence at the four monitors that played and replayed the same scene over and over in slow motion. The scene of Judge’s death.

  Lyle shook his head. “What the hell are they?”

  “I don’t know.” Greg stared in awe. “I can’t even make out what they are.”

  Barb peered up to Greg who stood between her and Lyle. “Should I go wake Dr. Jefferson about this?”

  “No. Let him sleep,” Greg replied. “You saw how bad that stomach flu hit him after dinner. Let him go. He knows no more than us anyhow.”

  “Haynes.” Aldo stood from his chair and approached him. “What did that to that man?”

  “I don’t know,” Greg answered.

  “You don’t know?” Aldo questioned. “Right. This is one of those wildlife research things you’re trying to satisfy.”

  “Aldo, I assure you it is not.”

  “Haynes.” Aldo stayed firm. “Look, enough is enough. That was horrible.”

  “Yes, it was.” Greg looked at him seriously.

  “And you didn’t control that?” Aldo asked.

  “No.”

  “And you know nothing about it?” Aldo pounded the question.

  “I told you no. How many times do you need to hear it?” Greg asked.

  “Until I’m satisfied.” Aldo pointed a finger at the screens. “That was not normal. That was some scary shit. I have a hard time believing that nature just tossed something onto that island that you know nothing about.”

  “Believe it,” Greg told him. “And believe this. I don’t think nature’s tossed something on that island I don’t know about, I think nature tossed something on that island . . . no one knows about.” Greg kept his stare on Aldo, his eyes moving only briefly when another worker walked into the room looking as if he were waiting for an opportunity to interrupt. Greg regained his composure in his serious stand down with Aldo. “Um . . .” He blinked and looked at the male worker. “Yes?” Greg rubbed his eyes.

  The young worker looked apprehensive, a little nervous from the t
ension in the room. “Sorry to interrupt, but . . . Mr. Connilucci? You’re driver is waiting. He said to tell you they’re waiting at the airport.”

  Aldo looked at Greg, then to the screens. He paused before saying anything, running his hand down his face and across his mustache. Then after taking one more look back at the screen, Aldo turned to the worker. “Can you do me a favor? Could you tell the driver I won’t be leaving, and to notify my pilots I won’t be needing their services tonight?” Aldo received an acknowledging nod from the worker, and then Aldo returned slowly to his seat. “Definitely not tonight.” He leaned back, crossed his legs and just stared, like everyone else, to the wall of monitors.

  I.-S.E. Thirteen - The Island

  July 20th - 9:00 p.m.

  Jake and Rickie lit the last of the little fires around his bungalow, and after walking Rickie over to get a sleeping bag for himself, Jake picked up the tin cup on the ground and used a stone to scoot the creature inside , carrying the cup with him into his bungalow.

  The second they walked in, Jake and Rickie were hit with questions. Jake said nothing. He walked by the trash, grabbed an empty beer bottle, and took that and the cup to the bathroom. He rinsed out the bottle. “Cal, get me my leather gloves.”

  After shifting her eyes in wonder to Rickie, Lou, Reed, and Billy Cal retrieved Jake’s gloves and brought them to him. “Here.”

  Jake took only one, placed it on, and lifted the stone from the cup. The thing wiggled and moved about the bottom of the cup. Reaching in, Jake pulled it out, causing Cal to cringe. Jake just glared at her and picked up the beer bottle sliding it in. “Are we done being so female? Good.” He put the bottle on the back of the toilet, covered the top with the balanced stone, and took off the glove.

  “Jake, what is that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to take it to the center tomorrow. Even I’m not taking a chance of going back out there tonight.” He led Cal from the bathroom. “I’m going to try to check it out with Stan, see what we come up with.”

  Cal’s words were so breathy. “There were so many of them.”

  “Yeah, there were.” Jake kissed her on the cheek. “And we haven’t a clue how they got into Judge’s body at all, now do we? None of us saw anything.”

  Lou shook his head. “We were all too busy arguing.”

  “We heard them, though.” Jake held up a finger. “Good thing. If we can hear them, we know they’re coming. Cal, I never want you more than a few feet from shelter. You got that? Those things move fast.” Jake lifted his hand. “And when one of them jumped on me, I could have sworn it was trying to drill its way in.” He showed Cal the small bleeding dot on his hand about the size of a dime. It wasn’t deep and it looked as if just the skin was missing.

  “Sarge, like, I guess we know now what killed Tonto and the animals, huh?”

  “I guess we do.” Jake sat down on the bed.

  “Jake?” Billy spoke up. “I have a question. Caldwell called you to help figure out what did that to Paul. Do you still believe that was a set up? Do you still think Caldwell knows exactly what’s going on?”

  “Absolutely,” Jake stated. “They know what they’re doing. And I’m finding out what these things are for us, not for them. I’m convinced this is just the final phase of the experiment, the big thing that’s supposed to wipe us all out.”

  Cal shook her head. “Jake, I have to disagree. The Stasis the institute can control. The wolves. But these things. I saw them too. Can they really control them? Caldwell would not put something in the experiment they could not control.”

  “True,” Jake said. “But here’s another thought.” Jake saw everyone perk up and listen. “Maybe Caldwell does know what these things are and they put them here, but maybe they just haven’t any idea of the magnitude of what they’ve unleashed.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island

  July 21st - 7:30 a.m.

  With a loud crash of broken glass, Jake’s voice bellowed in the bathroom. “Fuck!”

  Cal raced in. “What’s wrong?”

  “God, Cal, am I stupid.”

  “What?” She looked at the broken bottle in the sink. “What happened to it?”

  “Gone.”

  “What do you mean gone? Did it get out?”

  “No.” Jake shook his head. “I must not have cleaned out the beer bottle enough. It must be like a slug because . . .”

  “The salt dissolved it.” Cal’s head dropped, then she smiled. “No Jake, this is a good discovery.”

  “Why?”

  “What kind of water are we surrounded by?”

  Jake’s face lit up. “Salt water.” He kissed Cal. “First line of defense.” He moved from the bathroom. “While I’m gone, you guys gather up everything that can spray. You got that?”

  “Got it.” Cal moved with him to the door.

  “And don’t wander far at all. Stay close to shelter. When I get back, I’ll go down to the ocean and fill them up.”

  “Jake.” Cal stopped him from going out. “I don’t understand why you have to go. You have nothing to test.”

  “But I’m hoping soon I will. I want to get things ready at the center. Cal, we can’t kid ourselves into thinking they aren’t coming back.”

  “I know. Please be careful, okay?”

  Jake laid his hand on her cheek. “I promise. I’ll run for it.” Jake winked and opened the door. “Listen.”

  Cal did. “I just hear birds.”

  “Yes. None of those things. And . . . as long as there are still birds . . .”

  “There is still other food out there.”

  “Exactly,” Jake told her. “I’ll be back.” He kissed her again and stepped off the porch. The small campfires had burned out, and flies now buzzed about the remains of Judge that still laid there. After telling himself they definitely had to do something about those, Jake took off running.

  Jake took the long but the safe way to the control center, running to the beach, staying by the water’s edge the whole trip, then running at top speed up to the gates and buzzing himself in.

  Stan, who was in the one lab with Richard and Porter, was so grateful to see Jake. He raced to him the second he entered. “Jake. What the hell happened last night?”

  “Maybe you can tell me,” Jake told him.

  “Isn’t that why you’re here?” Stan asked. “You have answers, right?”

  “No. I’m here to prepare for when I try to find them. Get things ready here.” Jake looked at the disappointed faces.

  “Jake, we watched the tape over and over,” Stan said. “We couldn’t see clearly what it was. “Did you?”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Then those are answers,” Stan said with excitement. “You’re already one up on us. Come on.” He moved to the door.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Haynes is going to need to hear what you saw.” He noticed Jake didn’t follow. “Jake, you aren’t coming?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll come.” Jake reluctantly trailed behind. “But let me tell you something. I never really was much of an actor, so I don’t get into this big show for the investors.”

  Stan stopped walking, and he looked back at Jake seeming baffled. “You still think we’re controlling this?”

  Jake gave his stock, one word answer as he followed Stan who began to move again. “Absolutely.”

  Caldwell Research Center - Los Angeles, CA

  July 21st - 8:40 a.m.

  He had waded through what he considered truly boring conversation. Waiting for Jake to appear on his speaker, Greg listened to the investors - still including Judge’s - rattle on and on. It amazed him how a group of grown men could enthrall themselves in a conversation regarding the flu symptoms of Dr. Jefferson. And how that little topic then moved on to the ‘I remember when I had the flu two years ago . . .’. The flu stories from hell flew about the room, and Greg swore if he had more hair he would have pulled it out.

&n
bsp; Seeing Jake appear on the large screen was appreciated by Greg as much as if Jake was the Messiah himself dropping by for an experiment update. But Greg had to turn away from the screen seeing Jake in all his glory and arrogance knowing full well he was not in the mood for Jake antics.

  Staring at Aldo and Douglass in a deep conversation regarding the revival of the Spanish flu, Greg found himself having to face the screen with Jake on it.

  “Haynes!” Jake called out.

  Silence engulfed the room, and Greg turned around. “Jake, glad you could come.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. What did you want?” Jake was straight forward and to the point.

  “Stan tells me you got a good look at what killed Judge.”

  “I did.”

  “And . . .”

  Jake was silent.

  “And?”

  “And what? You want to see what I know about what you’re doing?”

  “Jake I assure you we are not doing anything. That’s why you’re here. We just want to know what we’re dealing with.”

  Jake hesitated again, then he leaned forward folding his hands. “I don’t know.”

  Amongst the moans in the room, Greg spoke up. “Jake, don’t play games with us. Stan said you saw . . .”

  “I did,” Jake interrupted him. “And I’m telling you I haven’t a clue what we’re facing.”

  “Any guess? What did they look like?”

  “Slugs,” Jake answered.

  The whole room repeated questioningly, “Slugs?”

  “Only flat,” Jake said. “About two inches long. No structure. It definitely is a microorganism of some kind. They move at an incredibly high rate.” Jake paused to think. “They make noise when they move. They have absolutely no structure. I got a hold of one last night. Rinsed out a beer bottle and kept it in there. It was completely dissolved by morning. I figured there was still some salt in the bottle. And they don’t like fire. I didn’t notice if they burned, but they don’t like fire.”