“Billy, I’m bored.”
“Tough. So is everyone else. Except me. Look at Jake and Lou staring out that window. And Reed talking to a cocoon. Which, by the way, Cal, is really freaky.”
“You think?” Cal looked over her shoulder. “I guess.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m used to it. I do remember the first time I saw that, though.”
“First time?” Billy asked surprised. “Rickie’s done this before?”
“Oh, sure. The first time was when he put the knife in the toaster and electrocuted himself.”
“Oh my God!” Billy gasped.
“Yeah. Ruined a perfectly good toaster, too. Jake was pissed. Anyhow. We were out for the evening and we found him when we got home. The only problem is, the extent of the injury determines how fast he shells up, right? Well, Rickie died, so he shelled up almost immediately. We get home and find him half way across the kitchen, on his back, arms extended, hair sticking up and shelled.”
“Okay.”
“Billy.” Cal rolled her eyes at him. “It may not look it, but right now, Rickie weighs about five hundred pounds maybe more. It was a bitch pulling him from that kitchen. Then . . . then his arms were out like this.” Cal held her arms out. “We had to get Chuck to help lift and turn him to get him out. We could have left him in the dining room, but we had company coming for dinner the next night. It actually was pretty funny getting him up the steps to his room. I hate when he cocoons, though. No Rickie, no fun.”
“True. And no one can ever accuse you of leading a boring life.”
“Yeah they can. Right now. Can I have my reading material?”
“Be gentle with it tonight?” Billy asked.
“I promise.”
“All right.” Billy handed her the papers. “Enjoy.” He turned to his laptop to start working again.
“Thanks.” Cal started to read and she giggled.
“It’s not funny.” Billy looked up from his lap top.
“No.” Cal waved her hand. “Not the words. The babies are shifting. It’s like they’re wrestling for fetal space in there.”
“Can I?” Billy extended his hand.
“Sure, go on.” Cal continued to read.
“Cal? How do you sleep with all that going on in there?”
“This is coming from the man who slept through attack of the killer zombies.” Cal held up the page. “Oh, this is good.”
“Really?” Billy’s hand still felt her stomach.
“Yes. But where’s my red pen? I want to circle my favorite part.” Her eyes shifted in a search.
Billy gave up. It was more than the teacher in Cal, he was certain, than it was a sick addiction to that red pen. And then, spotting Jake on his way over, Billy removed his hand from Cal. Not that he was afraid of Jake seeing him touching Cal’s stomach, but Billy just wasn’t in the mood for another one of Jake’s very serious, non-joking around, random, optical, erection checks.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island
July 27th - 9:00 a.m.
“Jake, no, don’t do this,” Cal pleaded, yet there was argument to her voice. “Just don’t do this.”
“I have to.” Jake secured the tape around the edge of his combat boot sealing it to his leg.
“How can you be so sure they won’t get you?” Cal asked him.
“I will cover every exposed area of my body. They don’t go through cloth, okay? But I have to do this. I can’t wait in here another day for these things to leave, because they just aren’t leaving, Cal.” Jake checked the tape around his wrists. “How do I look Lou?”
“Air tight.” Lou examined him. “It’s time for the mask.”
Jake nodded and lifted the homemade ski cap that lay on the dresser next to a pair of sunglass and a small duffle bag. He stopped before placing it over his head. “I love you.” He leaned down to Cal and kissed her. “Understand what I have to do. I have to try to figure out a way to beat these things. If I sit back and do nothing, if by some chance Caldwell has nothing to do with this, then we’re stuck. Because how can they figure out a way to get us off this island with these things, if they aren’t here? We are.”
Cal closed her eyes as she watched Jake place the hood on his head. She heard the ripping of the duct tape as Lou secured it to the turtle neck Jake wore. Then, after hearing one last long rip, Cal opened her eyes to see Lou taping on the sunglasses to protect Jake’s eyes. She grabbed his hand. “Good luck.”
“I’ll be back shortly,” Jake told her, then gave a reassuring squeeze to her fingers. “Don’t worry. No matter what you see, I’ll be fine.” Jake tossed the roll of tape in the small duffle bag and zipped it up. He picked up the bag and the plastic video case that now contained his amoebas and then looking once more at Cal, he moved to the door. “Ready?” He asked Lou.
“Ready.”
“As soon as I’m out, make sure this door is shut.”
“Got it.” Lou held a spray bottle with ocean water. “Good luck, Jake.”
With one single nod, Jake opened the door slightly and slid out, stepping onto the porch.
The moment Lou shut the door, the subtle hissing outside grew louder and louder.
Cal flew over to the window, and Billy and Lou followed. From there they watched Jake move off the porch and into the unity circle. By the time he was halfway to the beach path, Jake was completely covered with the amoebas, but he kept on moving. Before he moved out of view, Jake had already visually disappeared. The Amoebas followed him like he was the Pied Piper or a magnet of some sort, gathering thicker and thicker on him until he looked like a moving mound of Amoebas walking from the camp.
Once he was gone, once he could no longer be seen, Cal’s head dropped. Billy laid his hand on her shoulder stepping into her as Cal, scared for Jake, moved back into him for silent comfort.
Jake took the long way, the beach way, moving slowly, the weight of the amoebas dragging him down. He had to keep wiping his hand across the sunglasses so he could see. They stayed on him like glue, but Jake trudged on. He could not only feel their heaviness, but the squirming of their determined bodies. Jake hit the soft sand of the beach, feeling the weight of some of the amoebas leave him. Perhaps they sensed the salted air. But most of them stayed stuck to him. In his stride forward, Jake dropped the duffle bag and video case and walked straight - amoebas and all - into the ocean, dissolving them all instantly the second he submerged himself.
He didn’t spot any amoebas at all in the area of the center, nor did Jake tag any along with him. Any amoebas that tried to get Jake when he stepped from the ocean met with their demise the second they touched upon his soaking wet clothes.
Jake buzzed himself in and walked through the gates. He approached the building carrying his things like some sort of lone survivor in a dead world. He stepped inside, set down his things, took off his hood, and immediately began to undress, putting on dry clothes to work in, leaving the wet ones there to place back on later.
Jake knew where he had to go. He had it all set up for testing a specimen when he got one. And he carried one in the case Billy was so reluctant to give up.
Somehow Jake knew Stan would be there waiting in the lab. If Caldwell was even watching they would have seen him. “Morning,” Jake spoke to him laying the case on the counter.
“I can’t believe you chanced this.”
“I had to find out what . . .” Jake’s hand tapped the case. “ . . . these are.”
Stan peered through the clearness of the case. “Oh my God. Is that them?”
“Yep.”
“And what kind of tests are you going to run?”
“Well, first of all, I know that they cannot get through clothing. But I want to know exactly what they do when they touch the skin. I need to videotape it and observe. I need to know first of all what we’re dealing with, and then we’ll figure out how to deal with them. But there’s only one problem.”
“And that is?” Stan asked.
“A guinea pig. I looked for some sort of wildlife on my way here, but there isn’t any. I was hoping you would have some sort of test animals here at the lab.”
Stan shook his head. “Sorry, we don’t. What about Rickie?”
“Rickie is a possibility. We’ll have to wait until he regenerates and wakes up.”
“Amputate a limb from him?” Stan asked.
“Yeah, you know he’ll cocoon and grow it back. We’ll have to do it painlessly though.”
“Shock him, kill him, then cut off the body part.”
“Exactly.” Jake nodded. “Okay, then I’ll just examine one of these things now and save the rest for . . .” Jake’s head turned.
“What’s wrong?”
“There it is again.” Jake listened and heard the ‘meows’ that came from in the room. Small tiny voices.
“Oh, those are Ollie’s cats. The one had kittens two weeks ago and . . . Jake!” Stan shrieked out when he saw Jake looking about the room.
“Where are they Stan?”
“Jake I . . .”
“I asked you if there are any lab animals and you said ‘no’.”
“There aren’t,” Stan said defending himself. “Just Ollie’s cats.”
“Just Ollie’s cats?” Jake paused before he flipped out. “You’re willing to suggest I use my kid, you’re willing to let me take him apart, but you weren’t willing to give up the cats?”
“Jake . . .”
“Where are they?”
“I refuse to let you . . .”
“Where are they!” Jake yelled at him.
“All right!” Stan nervously rubbed his own head. “Under the far cabinet.
Jake marched right over, smiling at the growing amplification of cat meows. He squatted down, opened up the cupboard, and exposed the family. Two large cats. One had six tiny kittens feeding from her. Jake shook his head up to Stan. “Get the camera ready.”
Stan closed his eyes.
It looked like a fish tank, small and glass, only it had a glass lid. A camera was set up by it, ready to catch Jake’s experiment in its video eye. One single, lonely little amoeba stuck itself to the side wall.
“Jake, I protest this.”
“Tough,” Jake told him and started the camera.
It peeped more so than meowed when Jake lifted the tiny creature who sat patiently on the counter. It was grey and white, its fur soft and new. The kitten was smaller than Jake’s whole hand. Its tiny delicate shoulders pressed against its little face, and the kittens back paws rolled up around Jake’s thumb, gripping him. The young animal trembled, as if it knew what was coming. Its dark glossy eyes looked up at Jake, and its mouth opened, crying out its peeping voice as if to say, ‘please don’t do this to me, please.’
“Jake, don’t.” Stan held up his hand.
“Stan, knock it off!” Jake reached for the lid.
“I can’t watch you do this. I can’t . . .” Stan whined as Jake lowered the kitten into the tank and closed the lid. Loudly and long, Stan shuddered out a moan. The baby animal slid on the smooth glass trying to grab the footing it had just learned how to use.
Jake folded his arms and watched, never taking his eyes off the tank. The kitten could no longer be heard, but Jake could see it still crying out. Looking around, trying to make helpless eye contact with Stan whose hand covered his face. But it didn’t take long. The amoeba, so small, pounced on the kitten landing on its back. The mouth of the kitten opened widely screaming out and its back legs dropped when the amoeba began to burrow itself in.
Caldwell Research Center - Los Angeles, CA
July 27th - 2:00 p.m.
He sat alone in the control room. That’s the way he wanted it. No observers, no investors or workers. Just Greg. He had just finished watching the video display of the first cat experiment. And now Greg stared at the screen, the glass tank before him, only it was black, filled on the inside with multitudes of amoebas.
“There is no way to count,” Jake said over the speaker. “We estimate about four hundred or so.”
Greg sipped his coffee trying to look emotionless. “They multiplied?”
“From within, yes,’ Jake explained. “They can get into you two ways. One, through any bodily opening - ears, nose, mouth, you name it. The other is through the skin surface where they dig in. This takes, and I’m estimating on when they go in, bone and muscle density, it takes anywhere from six to ten seconds to get inside. You can stop it mid drill, get a grip and pull it out. Saline solution, salt water won’t work. It only dissolves half and the amoeba goes on and in. Once it does, it’s over.”
“How long does that take?” Greg asked.
“It depends on how big. But no matter the size, it doesn’t take long until your dead, and then after that, not long before you’re gone. They get directly into the blood stream, multiply, and devour.”
“And there’s no way to stop them once they get inside.”
“Not from what I seen. No, wait, I’m wrong. You can halt them if you catch it early enough.”
Greg nodded. “Hence the legless mother cat.”
“Yes. I seized the opportunity when I saw the amoeba go into the front paw, but I had to be fast. It made it nearly to the shoulder by the time I amputated. And I was ready. She could have survived but, well, you know, saving her wasn’t a possibility.”
“You really learned a lot today.”
“Yes, I did,” Jake said. “And I also learned why none of us, you, me, anyone, ever saw it hit Judge.”
“Too fast.”
“No. All it took was one. Maybe it went in through his ear or mouth. But just one. What amazes me is how many derive from that one. I mean, if one amoeba turns into four hundred or so from one tiny kitten that barely fit in the palm of my . . .”
“Jake.” Greg winced. “Spare those details.”
“Sorry.” Jake cleared his throat. “I was saying. If you can get that many to multiply in a small test subject, imagine how many more one amoeba will make in the body of an average sized man.”
“Or worse,” Greg stated with concern. “One very large stasis boar.”
“Exactly. Which brings me to my next point. If we are aware of how fast they multiply and how many are produced, and we are also aware of how many these things have killed, then we have a problem. From what I’ve seen out there, we’re only skimming the surface.”
“And the big question would be . . . where the hell are the rest?”
Jake only nodded in agreement.
I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island
July 27th - 7:30 p.m.
Jake had made it safely back and had a much easier time doing it wearing the biohazard suit that Caldwell provided. He returned for a bucket, retrieving ocean water, then showered himself with it before going inside.
They had just finished dinner and all of them sat in the floor together. To keep Reed quiet, they sat by Rickie just so Rickie could feel a part of the discussion, cocoon or not.
Cal sat between Jake’s legs as he leaned against the wall, her back to his chest, his arms around her. His hands rested on her stomach, something he did without thinking about anymore. Cal touched his fingers as she spoke to him. “You learned all this today?”
“Yes,” Jake answered.
“How?” Cal asked.
“We ran tests.”
“So you must have had test subjects,” Cal questioned. “Who?”
“Well . .. ‘what’ would be more the word to describe the test subjects.”
Cal was curious. “Guinea pigs. What were they?”
“Cats,” Jake stated. “Eight of them.”
Billy gasped at the same time Reed did. “Jake, you killed eight cats?”
“The amoebas killed eight cats. I observed.”
“Were they . . . big cats?” Billy asked.
“Two were,” Jake answered. “Six, you could say . . .” He held out his hand. “Fit in my palm.”
“UH!” Billy winced and shuddered. “Oh shit,
Jake. You killed a kitten?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Billy kept rambling. “How can you be so cruel? A little innocent kitten.”
“Knock it off. You weren’t this bad when you watched the zombies eat Larry Kale.”
“He was an asshole, Jake. These were poor, helpless, defenseless . . .”
“Billy!” Jake yelled his name. “What the hell else was I supposed to do, follow Stan’s suggestion and wait until Rickie woke up and amputate his arms?”
“Yes,” Billy snapped out. “Rickie will come back. Those kittens won’t.”
Reed seemed to shake his head in disappointment. “Oh ake. At es eel-ee ick.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “We learned today, didn’t we?”
Billy was just appalled. “And this doesn’t bother you in the least?”
Cal interjected. “It wouldn’t. Jake has a reputation of killing, not just cats. Kittens.”
Jake, after seeing Billy’s open-mouth look of disgust, looked to his wife “Cal, what the hell are you talking about?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Are you going to say that today is the first time you took the life of a feline friend?”
Jake paused and said nothing. He cringed at the moans from Reed and Billy. “No-no. What Cal is talking about was not on purpose. It was an accident.”
Lou had to ask. “What did you do? Hit it with a car?”
“Close,” Cal answered for Jake. “A very large boot.”
Shuddering whines emanated from Billy and Reed.
“Oh, nice, Cal. Very nice.” Jake was perturbed. “Make it sound like I stepped on the kitten on purpose. How the hell was I supposed to know the neighbors’ kittens were on our porch? It was five o’clock in the morning, for Christ’s sake. I didn’t see it.”
“No, you did not.” Cal said. “I did. When I went out an hour later to get the paper. Just laying there, so pitiful, all . . .”
Amoeba (The Experiments) Page 66