Lou, walking out with Billy, stuck his head in the door. “Rickie, the cab is waiting. I’ll bring your music.”
“Dude, I’m there in a second.”
Shrugging, Lou pulled the door closed hitting the step of the porch just after Billy stepped down. Lou stopped. “Jake! Jake!” Over the chopper blades he heard it, the hissing, whistling, and rustling.
“What the fuck!” Jake held his hands up as he watched the chopper lift. “Hey!”
“Jake! Get in!” Racing forward, Lou grabbed Billy by the arm spinning him in the run. “Get back in! They’re coming! Jake!”
Jake who was still in the center of the circle with Cal, couldn’t hear Lou over the noise of the hovering helicopter. He shook his head, at Lou, holding his ear. “What?”
Lou leaped forward, swept up Cal, and turned back, figuring if Jake could see him, he certainly would realize that something was wrong if he was stealing his wife,
And Jake did. At the same moment Lou grabbed Cal, Jake not only heard it but saw it. Every tree in the woods that surrounded them shook violently. And through the shaking trees, Jake saw the green of the trees turn black with amoebas. “Shit.” He backed up with a splash and bolted toward the bungalow for safety. But before he reached the porch, Jake saw something happen that he didn’t expect, and he thought he was a goner. A cloud, thick, black, and huge, formed when, from the trees, the amoebas flew out and joined together. They rose up high, causing night to fall over the compound. Knowing that was an opportunity to make an escape, Jake leaped for the porch, but not before seeing the cloud of amoebas lunge for the moving helicopter, completely bombarding it and covering every single inch of it as the chopper careened away.
Jake slammed the door with his body as he made it inside. He leaned against the door, ignoring the voices of Cal, Rickie, Billy, and Lou, and closed his eyes. He breathed heavily, his heart raced, and he knew what was going to happen next. And Jake was not wrong.
Boom! The crashing and exploding of the rescue helicopter was so violent it shook and vibrated the bungalow causing them to not only lose their footing as if an earthquake had hit, but worse. The explosion caused the two windows in the main room and the bathroom to shatter.
Crash-crash-crash. Cal held her head as she ducked the flying glass, and Jake lunged forward, pulling out the first dresser drawer he passed in his run. He ordered, “Lou, Rickie, grab and dump a drawer! Cover these windows! Billy, Cal, hammer and nails are in the closet. Get them now!” Jake dumped the drawer and slammed it against the window behind the bed.
Lou grabbed a drawer and ran to the front window, while Rickie brought one to the bathroom. They breathed a sigh of relief, holding the drawers to the windows, sealing off the outside world, grateful for the smallness of the windows. They had made it, and just in the nick of time, because it wasn’t long after Rickie banged his drawer up against the window that the amoebas attacked loudly, in full force, and with a mighty vengeance down upon the bungalow.
Caldwell Research Center - Los Angeles, CA
July 30th - 9:15 a.m.
“Lloyd, abort and pull back.” Greg’s voice played over the speaker.
“I don’t have the cargo.”
“Abort. Shut the damn doors, abort, and pullback now! Now!”
“Doors closed and we are aborting the rescue.”
Silence came over the airways before Lloyd, in near panic, called out.
“What the . . . holy mother of God!”
“What’s happening . . . Lyle, pull them up. Let me see. Lloyd, what’s going on?”
“Covered. I can’t see.”
“Can you make it to the ocean?”
“I can’t see. The weight is . . .”
Reed’s scream carried over.
“Oh God, they’re coming in the vents. They’re just pouring . . .”
Lloyd’s painful scream ensued, followed by silence, then finally . . . static.
With a painful expression, Greg turned to face the eight investors who had watched the botched rescue attempt over and over. Looking totally worn out, Greg began to leave the room.
“Haynes.” Aldo stepped to him. “Are you sending the second chopper back?”
Greg stopped walking. “No. He’s in Honolulu and that’s where he’ll stay.”
“But you can’t leave them there.” Aldo followed him. “You saw all those things.”
“I did. And you saw how far they can jump up. I cannot take a chance on another rescue mission. Sending a chopper over there, having them clear the way only to have more jump out of nowhere. They’re all over that island, Aldo.”
“What about a sea rescue.” Aldo pursued. “Have our people suited up and head into the ocean. Pick them up there.”
“Can’t do it. If the amoebas don’t get them, the sharks will.”
“How can you be so sure about that?” Aldo asked.
“Because we infested those waters. We dumped food there for a period of time to keep those sharks there, and now they’re staying.”
“Christ.” Aldo was taken aback. “You cut off the only viable escape route.”
Greg began to get upset, and he stepped toward to Aldo with an angry vengeance. “You think I would have done so had I known about these amoebas? No. We tried to get them off that island. We failed.”
“Try again.” Aldo insisted.
“We can’t.”
“Fuck, Haynes, those are human beings on that island, and with them, some monstrosity of nature.”
“That’s right.” Greg tilted his head. “And I’m beginning to think the best way to ensure that those monstrosities of nature, as you called them, stay on that island is to just take no chance of picking them up when we pick up our people.”
Aldo stammered some in shock. “You’re . . . you’re just gonna leave them there?”
“Until we find an operable means of destroying those amoebas. Sorry. Our participants have to stay right where they are.” Taking a short breath, and closing his eyes briefly, Greg turned away from Aldo and left the room before any more could be said.
I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island
July 30th - 6:00 p.m.
Day or night. If those in the bungalow didn’t look at their watches they wouldn’t have a clue which it was. Boarded up inside, the fresh air they only got a tease of seemed like a moment that would have to last them a really long time.
But even pinned up in small quarters, Jake and Cal found even smaller quarters to just sit and talk. They needed time alone, time they hadn’t had in a while. Lying on the closet floor, each on their sides facing each other, they just talked.
The sound of a loud, single Rickie moan seeped through the shut door. Jake looked at the door then back to Cal. “As I was saying . . . no.”
“You really don’t think?” Cal asked him.
“No. Cal, please, these amoebas, yeah they’re out there. But they can’t get in here. Now those Stasis could.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But this is lasting a lot longer.”
“Nope. Think about it. December, January, and part of February last experiment. Same amount of time.”
“Not constant like this.” Cal held up a hand.
“True. But are these things really constant? They’re just hanging out waiting to eat. They’ll move on.”
“Or according to your theory, be gone by the end of this experiment.”
“Exactly.” Jake nodded.
“Jake? Let me ask you a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you think . . .” Cal paused when another Rickie moan flowed through. She shrugged. “Do you think I’m dead weight now?”
“Why would you even ask me that?”
“Because I’m not as agile or quick as you’re used to me being.”
“Cal, no way. When you’re nine months pregnant you’ll still be able to hold your own better than anyone I know, kick any beast’s ass.”
“You say the sweetest things.” Cal smiled.
�
��Thanks. And you know I love a challenge. So do you. And this pregnancy during this experiment has added that extra challenge.”
“It’s still been a piece of cake.”
“Yeah, it has. Even the pregnancy, except for the complication, has been easy. I just wish you got to do this at home, you know, in comfort. If you’re sick, you throw up in a nice bathroom.”
Cal laughed, then turned her head to the door. Rickie moaned again.
“Rickie!” Jake yelled. “What?”
“Sarge, like, I am so bummed. I need some family time.”
“Jake,” Cal spoke softly as she sat up. “Let him in.
“Cal, it’s a closet. We’re cramped in here as it . . .” He cringed at another moan. “Rickie, all right. Come in.”
The door opened and Rickie scooted inside. “Thanks.” He sat next to Cal. “It’s cool in here.”
“Rickie, it’s small,” Jake told him.
“Sorry. But, like, you guys won’t come out and I’m really bummed. Like, my friend is gone, and I feel so bad about it.”
Cal ran her hand down the back of Rickie’s head. “I’m sorry, Rickie. And just so you know, he never left your side the whole time you regenerated.”
“Rickie.” Jake drew his attention. “Sometimes we lose people in our lives, people that we care about, that are important. People that we’ll really miss once they’re gone and they leave this . . . this hollow feeling in you. You understand what I’m saying?” He watched Rickie nod. “Good, now knowing that, keep this in mind. Reed was not one of those people.”
“Jake!” Cal shrieked at him.
“Cal, what?” Jake held up his hand. “Rickie knew coming into the experiment that everyone but me and you was going to die. He should have been prepared.”
“Rickie, ignore him” Cal’s voice was soothing. “If you want to feel bad, you feel bad. If you want to talk about Reed, talk about him.”
“Cal-babe, like, I would like to talk about him. Can I?” Taking Cal’s nod as an answer and ignoring Jake’s rolling eyes, Rickie talked. “I just think it’s, like, so unfair the way he died. I mean, the dude was like the Iso-Stasis equivalent to South Park’s Kenny. He, like, went through all this shit only to die going home. And I feel bad cause, like, the guy had a hard life. Kicked and scratched his way out of his Little Orphan Annie life. Abused as a teenager in a boys’ home. Wrongly sentenced to jail for a crime his buddy committed and later confessed to. Went into serious debt to bail out the woman he loved only to have her leave him for another woman. What else, yeah. He got his modeling break, the first one ever, right, and what happens? He comes here and loses all his looks. But the dude trudged on. He kept his spirits up. I’m so bummed.” Rickie’s head hung low.
Jake actually felt a twinge of bad. “Rickie, I had no idea Reed had such a hard life.”
“Me either,” Cal said. “That really made his death even worse.”
“It did, didn’t it?” Rickie raised his head. “Too bad none of it was true. But you have to admit, it sounded good though.”
Jake groaned. And bummed out or not, it didn’t take long for Jake to eject Rickie right back out of that closet and return to having his private conversation with Cal.
Set up in the corner that used to be Rickie’s cocoon spot, Billy sat with his laptop. It perched on a beer case, Billy’s little desk. And with his fingers tapping, Billy was oblivious to all that went on around him. He worked on his sanity, one of the things that kept him going. His writing. ‘I keep hearing Jake’s voice in my mind telling me that this is just the last phase of the experiment. And that miraculously, in a month’s time, all the amoebas will somehow disappear and we will be lifted from this island. A part of me doubts it. Sometimes I wonder if Jake sees what I see. The carpet of slimy creatures that blanket us, hover over us, and wait to devour us. But I suppose we are safe in here. Locked away. We have food, water, and that is enough. My mind stays focused on my writing. And when I feel like being trapped in here is too much for me to handle, I remind myself of the great writers of the world who deliberately locked themselves away, and I pretend I am them. Like Hemingway, who rented an attic in Europe and slept with prostitutes and drank so much while he wrote that he . . .’ Billy stopped writing and scratched his head, speaking his thoughts out loud. “Wait a second. Hemingway killed himself. Bad choice, Bill. Bad choice.” With a press of the button, Billy held down until some of his words disappeared and he began to write again, finding better words to put on his screen. ‘ . . . And I pretend I am them. Finding great solitude in seclusion. Using my mind as an adventure and taking that adventure to emerge with one of the greatest stories ever written.’ Billy stopped and smiled. “Better.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY
Caldwell Research Center - Los Angeles, CA
July 31st - 2:25 p.m.
Greg’s head turned quickly, shifting his eyes to Aldo. “You must be mistaken.”
“No, Haynes, I’m not. You have to see it.”
“Aldo.” Greg nearly laughed at him. “There’s no way.”
“Damn it, I’m telling you,” Aldo argued.
Daniela stepped forward. “Could he be wrong?”
“No.” Aldo shook his head. “I know what I watched.”
“Okay.” Greg held up his hand. “I am not doubting what you watched, I’m doubting what you’re making out of it.”
“See for yourself. I was working in my room and my eyes caught the news. This network repeats the news every hour. The story is coming up.”
“All right.” Greg tossed his hand up. “I’ll watch it. Barb, give me some volume.” Greg tapped her on the shoulder and moved his eyes to the far right screen. The Central News Network was printed in the corner of the screen, and a female anchor woman dressed in red stared at the camera. Greg and the other investors watched.
“. . . with the president’s arrival.” She switched papers and camera angles. “Psychic Mary Helmsman is in the news again, arrested for the fourth time this week this time in Houston for stopping traffic and urging people to repent because the end is near.”
Greg laughed loudly. “Is that it?”
“No.” Aldo pointed. “This is.”
To the right of the newscaster’s head a murder insignia appeared with the word gang across it. “In other news, authorities in Honolulu are investigating what they are calling a very bizarre gang-type slaying. The unidentifiable remains of three victims were found near the property edge of Lexington airfield. The victims are believed to have been killed with some sort of acid, and were found outside a vehicle registered to Sebastian Ferraro. Though Mr. Ferraro is said to be linked to organized crime, it is not known at this time whether his remains were one of the three at the scene . . . The pope visited England today in an historic . . .”
Greg slowly turned around to the eight investors. “It has to be a coincidence. It has to be.”
“Acid, Haynes,” Aldo said. “You know what those amoebas do. Honolulu. Coincidence?”
“Yes.”
“No.” Strong and loud, Dr. Jefferson’s voice rang in the room. “It isn’t and you know it.”
Greg shifted his gaze to Dr. Jefferson. “What are you doing . . .”
“Here?” Dr. Jefferson laughed. “How long did you think you could hide this from me, Haynes? Or keep me medicated and locked in my room, overwhelmed with the flu and unable to be disturbed?”
“Dr. Jefferson, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Greg defended.
“Bullshit.” Dr. Jefferson, in an almost taunting manner, walked down the steps of the control room and straight to Haynes. “I thought . . . I thought at first when Paul died and the animals that somehow it couldn’t be. But it was, wasn’t it?”
Greg didn’t answer. He was silent, as were the eight investors.
“I kept telling myself that it wasn’t possible. You assured me. You, Dr. Haynes, said no. I asked you when you purchased Carrington to let me know if you found them. I told you Carrington and I create
d that batch and put it to rest over thirty years ago on that island. And you said . . . no. None were found.” Dr. Jefferson stepped closer. “And what else did I ask you? Do you remember?”
Greg swallowed. “If any arise, or were found, to let you know.”
“Exactly.” More meanness than ever was heard in Dr. Jefferson’s voice. His eyes were straight on Greg, his face red. “And why was that? I’ll tell you why. I’ll tell all of you why. Because I knew, I knew then and I know now, they could get so far out of control that there may not be a way to stop them. Out of control, Haynes. And you know damn well what the hell just happened in Honolulu. Honolulu? We’re not talking about an isolation experiment anymore, we’re talking about civilization. Ways to spread. Why in God’s name you would hold this from me, keep me in the dark on purpose, is beyond me, when I am the only person on the face of the earth with the knowledge to stop these things cold.”
A mumble of excited voices emerged from the investors.
Lancing’s was the loudest. “Dr. Jefferson, you can stop these things?”
“Yes,” he stated firmly. “And we have to now. If they are loose in Honolulu, we have to get them now or there may not ever be a way to stop them. But before I do, you tell me right now Haynes. Right now. Did you . . . find them on the island?” Dr. Jefferson faced off with Greg who didn’t answer. “Did you!” He screamed in demand.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Three . . .” Greg swallowed. “In a freezer.”
“And you released them on purpose.”
“We just thought . . .”
“Why!” Dr. Jefferson grabbed hold of Greg’s shirt shaking him. “What the hell is the matter with you!” He shook him more. “What was going through your mind!” His hand trembled as he clenched Greg tightly, ignoring the pulls of the investors. “Do you realize what you may have done? Do you even realize that right now, even with my knowledge, it may be too late? Do . . .do . . .” His words slowed and his hands released Greg. “You.” He grunted loudly, hunching forward. Suddenly Dr. Jefferson’s face turned beet red and he grabbed for his own chest, cringing in pain and stepping back. “God help us all.” With a sway to his side he fell into a table. The weight of his falling body caused the table to break and the table and Dr. Jefferson crashed to the floor.
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