“Haynes.” Aldo’s voice cracked. “He’s probably a wire puller.”
“I am,” Craig stated.
Colin cringed and held his hand to Craig. He stood up. “Aldo, this man is an inventor. He contacted us when he heard on the news what we’re trying to do. Actually, Mr. Lawson has a very brilliant idea. And technical school graduate or not, his idea just may work.”
I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island
August 12th - 9:10 a.m.
They all gathered around the television that was fed through for them. On the screen nothing much could be seen except thick black smoke and fire. A timer in the right hand corner counted down and some annoying newscaster with terrible commentating.
“Jake.” Cal looked up at him with folded arms. “How is this going to affect us?”
“Not at all.”
“What about the radiation?” Cal asked.
“Cal. If there is a nuclear blast going off a hundred and fifty miles away, we may feel it and we may not, but we certainly won’t be affected by radiation. Not when we’re in this concrete building insulated with mutant amoebas. Don’t worry about it.”
“I do.”
“Don’t.”
“Sarge, like, why don’t you buy this guy? It’s real.” Rickie questioned.
“I just don’t.”
Lou looked to Jake. “Jake, when will you believe it is real?”
“When I step off this island and someone with some credibility tells me it’s real. Till then, I follow my gut. My gut says this is part of the Iso-stasis experiment.”
“Dude, like, you really think?” Rickie asked.
“Yes.”
“Whoa.” Rickie scratched his head. “And they’re, like, allowed to destroy a number one tourist spot?”
“Rickie.”
Cal shook her head. “You’re wrong, Jake. And you know for certain your gut sucks.”
“Cal, please. I have great gut instincts.”
“Maybe when it comes to breaking a perimeter or pulling an assassination. But not here, history proves it.”
“What?” Jake laughed. “What history.”
“Last experiment. You said Carlos was bad.”
“But I said Rickie would survive. You didn’t.”
“You said poor Reed was the catch. Wrong there.”
“You said Judge.” Jake held his hand out to her.
“Well, you said Billy was going to be a psychopathic killer and try to take us all out.”
Quiet Billy was shocked. “Jake, you thought I was a killer?”
“I said no such thing.” Jake spoke with an edge. “She’s telling tales to be amusing. And she isn’t.” Jake lowered his face to Cal.
“I’m merely trying to show that your gut is wrong.”
“Cal?”
“Yes.”
“What have I always taught you sweetie? Even when you know you’re wrong?”
“Never admit it.” Cal finished his sentence.
“Exactly. Now watch the show with me.” Jake pulled Cal into him and glued his eyes to the count-down timer. Watching with anticipation he tried not to show, and just like his rule on never admitting you were wrong, Jake would never admit to Cal that what he was watching was real, even if he believed it was.
Caldwell Research Center - Los Angeles, CA
August 12th - 9:30 a.m.
“The safest distance that we can get.” The newsman’s voice spoke over a shot of Oahu, smoldering in the distance. All the investors, Greg, Colin, and every worker from Caldwell gathered in that room. “We can monitor the countdown.” The male voice spoke slowly as if announcing a golf tournament. “But it is this journalist’s guess that even seeing the timer hit zero, the realization of what ensued will not hit us until we see it for our own eyes.” A silent pause. “Still, silent. Our prayers and hearts go out to these who are alive on the island of Oahu, for we surely feel their pain. We can see the remnants of the earlier destruction still . . .”
It sounded like a snap of electricity, a click, and the screen went bright white, a deepened boom was heard in the distance, and then silence and the screen turned to static.
Fuzzy, white, the speakers in the control room hissed with the interference of the signal. Slowly they watched the picture squiggle some, return blurred at first, then return fully. The newsman faced the camera at his desk holding onto his ear piece. He looked up, “We’re back and I’m told now . . . yes, we are getting a shot . . .” The screen then showed the bellowing mushroom cloud in the distance. “Yes, there it is . . . the nuclear cloud of death. Some say we are witnessing our future right now. Some say we are witnessing our salvation. However one views it, I can say we’re all viewing it with a heavy heart and an abundance of sadness. This station will pause right now for a moment of silence for our brothers and sisters who gave up their lives in a fight to save ours.”
Complete and utter silence engulfed the control room. Not a sound, not a breath could be heard.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island
August 15th - 3:20 p.m.
Every other hour Jake did it without fail. He did it for Cal more than anyone else. He checked every door, window, seal, vent, and opening into the building. He wanted no surprises, no attacks from the amoebas that he didn’t see coming. He guessed by the now deadened acoustics in the building, the steady hissing, and the photos that Caldwell showed them, that the amoebas outside were getting worse than even he had thought they’d get.
With the experiment’s end fast approaching, Jake was trying to determine what factor would play into the elimination of him, Cal, and Lou, the remaining participants. There had to be something more than the amoebas. Because with the way things were, they were safe inside. But part of Jake was starting to believe there may be trouble. Even if the whole amoeba thing was a set up by Caldwell, they would still have to implement a plan to get them off the island, to free them. And that part was the only part that Jake truly believed Caldwell had trouble with.
The amoebas had gotten out of hand, more so than they wanted them to. More so than they could control. And they communicated with Jake constantly. And even though Jake had exhausted all that he could learn from the amoebas, Caldwell still kept him abreast, his number one clue that something had gone amiss.
Jake could hear the sound of muted gunfire coming from a speaker as he rounded the turn into the monitoring lab. “Hey, Stan.”
“Jake.”
“What’s going on?” Jake looked at the television. People were lighting fires in the street, throwing things.
“Rioting is bad in San Francisco. Rumors are starting to spread that martial law may be placed in full force, all access road in and out may be shut down.”
“Just like fuckin people to get themselves in an uproar before they have the facts. What are they saying is the reason for the barricade? Is it because they can’t get near Oahu yet?”
“No.” Stan shook his head. “They think . . . they think the amoebas may have made it to Molokai.”
Jake had no expression on his face. He sat down, watched the television, and waited with Stan for Caldwell to place one of their many calls to him.
Caldwell Research Center - Los Angeles, CA
August 15th - 3:30 p.m.
A blue hue took over the shot of Jake on the screen, followed by a squiggle of interference, then, with a couple flicks of the screen, Jake came in clear. “Sorry. What were you saying?” Jake asked Greg who stood with Colin.
“We think we got it, Jake.” Greg said. “We’re gonna get you guys off that island, but first we’re going to freeze it.”
Jake blinked rapidly four times staring at the camera next to the monitor on which he watched Greg. “Freeze the island?”
“Yes,” Greg answered with a nod.
“What are you, out of your fuckin mind? This is a body of land. Or did you for . . . at . . . n . . . to . . .”
“Jake, you’re breaking up again,” Greg said, then lo
oked at Colin. “Thank God at least we didn’t have to hear him bitch completely.” He raised his eyes to the screen watching Jake come back in clear focus.
“Amoebas,” Jake complained. “Anyhow. How do you plan to freeze an entire body of land?”
Clearing his throat, Colin stepped forward. “We’re, uh . . . we’re working on it.”
In the background, Aldo’s voice emerged yelling out. “There it is again.”
Greg turned, looked at Aldo, and then back to Jake. “We are getting the equipment and supplies together. We’re expecting to do a first round test, then if that works, move into building a prototype, and test some more. We’re moving . . . . Jake you’re breaking up.”
The shot of Jake came in clear a little faster. “I lost you after prototype.”
“After we build the prototype, we’ll test it some more. We’re moving on this, Jake, but we have to make sure that it’ll work. We got a hold put on the annihilation of your island, but we don’t know for how long. There’s only one problem and it’s happening now. We have to keep the lines of communication open, no matter what. We’ll be going down to the wire here, Jake, time is of the essence . . .” Greg’s gaze moved to the television screen when he heard the interruption ‘this is a special report’
Beth Chase appeared on the screen of Central Network News. “Sheltered in, tucked away, the residents of the island of Molokai may be safe from radiation, but not from the virus. Officials who were formerly speculating hve now have confirmed that the microorganism has spread, I repeat, has spread to the Island of Molokai . . .”
Slowly Greg raised his eyes back to Jake. “More so than ever now, time is really of the essence.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
Caldwell Research Institute - Los Angeles, CA
August 16th - 10:09 a.m.
“Goddamn it!” Greg scrunched up his face and lowered his hand powerfully to press the mute button on the phone. In his anger, his finger missed twice before he finally ended up hitting it. “All right.” Greg ran his hand over his face, paced a few times, got himself together, peered up at his island shots, and repressed the mute button. “Still there?”
“Where’d you go?” The male voice on the other line asked.
“Line problems,” Greg answered. “All right. Listen to me. Do what you have to do, you got that? And get me that approval today. Find out what is up the Governor’s ass and pull it out if you have to, but get it for me today.” Greg huffed as he disconnected the call. “Barb.”
“Yes.”
“Do me a favor, get on our line to the President, and tell him what’s going on with Nevada’s Governor. See what strings he can pull. Christ, he’s the President. And stress to whoever you talk to that we need to test this project and we can’t if we don’t have a hot, dry piece of land to do it . . .” Greg’s voice dropped as he turned like everyone else and faced the back of the room, “ . . . with.”
In unison came an abundance of heavy stomping, getting louder and moving their way, sounding like the theme music to the movie Jaws. Everyone listening looked baffled as the stomping got louder and louder.
Greg placed his hands on his hips. “Does anyone know what’s going on?”
Even the monitor observers stood up, facing the back door. Everyone was a bit afraid when they marching stopped. The door opened, and five soldiers walked in. Before the double doors closed again, it was apparent that many more soldiers were in the hall.
One older, distinguished soldier took the lead and stepped forward. “I am looking for Dr Gregory Haynes.”
“I’m Dr. Haynes. What’s going on?” He approached the soldier.
“Colonel Lawrence Johnson, sir.” He saluted then shook Greg’s hand. “By order of the President of the United States, this building has hereby been placed under the protective custody of the United States Army.”
Greg spoke above the mumble of voices in the room. “Why? This is a secure building.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but the security here is not as tight as you would like it to be. And the President wants to see that nothing disturbs the work that is going on inside this structure, especially with the threats being made against Caldwell, sir. Guards will be posted around the building and property and the corridors. And for the safety of the occupants, it is advised that no one leave the premises.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
Colonel Johnson nodded, stepped back, turned, signaled his four men, and they walked out of the control room.
Looking at the investors and all those who stood around him, Greg, just as stunned as everyone else, stood speechless.
I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island
August 16th - 6:30 p.m.
They all sat on the floor in the storage closet, hoping in the small closed in space, together, with all six bodies, they could generate some heat, some relief from the building they kept near fifty degrees.
“Mad Max.” Rickie pointed to Jake. “Like, that’s who I see you as.”
“Please.” Jake scoffed. “Me? Do I even look like the type of man, end of the world or not, who would wander around like that? Aimless and alone?”
“Jake’s right,” Cal said. “I don’t see him doing that. I see Jake taking me and the kids, finding a secluded piece of land and staying there, living there alone the rest of our lives.”
“See.” Jake pointed to Cal. “People wonder why we’re married. She knows me so well.”
Stan agreed. “That, and you both have this obsession with near death.”
“Dude, like, that’s because it’s an aphrodisiac to them, guy.” Rickie snickered.
“You know,” Lou spoke up. “I could be Mad Max.”
“Dude!” Rickie shrieked with excitement. “Like, whoa. I can see that, guy. Lou Max, the man, the myth. Wandering around no man’s land. Without a shirt, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And, like, guy, you’ll be getting all the post apocalyptic babes.”
“What about me?” Billy asked. “Since you’re being a fortune teller, what do you see me as in the post apocalyptic world, Rickie?”
“Dead.”
Everyone laughed.
Rickie’s head bobbed back and forth. “No offense guy, but throw a nomad your way and you’ll fold.”
“You’re probably right,” Billy stated. “Of course, you’d have to admit, If I did survive, I may not be able to defend myself, but bet me I have one of the nicest houses in the post apocalyptic world. I can decorate.”
“You can decorate,” Cal agreed.
Jake rolled his eyes. “Oh, now that’s important.”
“Sarge, like, can I be serious for a second?” Rickie asked.
“When are you ever serious, Rickie?”
“Never. But, like, can I be now? I have to ask you a really serious question.”
“Sure.” Jake agreed. “Go on. But no trying to make a fool out of me.”
“Dude, like, I promise.” Rickie raised his left hand, and Jake grunted. “Anyway, I was buzzing in on the news this morning, which by the way, Billy, your reporter buddy got, like, the first question at the news conference.” After Billy whined, Rickie continued. “Anyhow, like, the babe that wears all the make up, she was, like, saying that even though the President is denying it, there’s, like, these rumors that the Reds, Russia and China, are, like, threatening to take matters into their own hands. Would they do that? You’re, like, the military guy, so you’ll know.”
“If what is happening is really happening . . .” Jake cringed when everyone moaned, “. . .then yes, I can see that happening.”
“Well, what will we do?” Rickie asked.
“Depends.” Jake shrugged. “Depends on what they do. And then basically, we do one better.”
“Could it escalate?”
“It could,” Jake answered. “Under normal circumstance, war circumstances, it would start as a ground confrontation somewhere and build from there. The only problem is, whether in peace times or
not, a nuclear weapon has been used, and that really opens up the playing field.”
Rickie was full of questions. “So, like, you’re saying this could actually turn into world war three?”
Jake tilted his head. “Depends again. It’s hard to say. But . . . yes. It could.”
“So, like, what would you do? Say we get off this island and war broke out. You’re, like, the man in North Carolina. Would you see a nuclear attack coming first?”
Jake hesitated. “Yes. I’d know before most people.”
“Would you tell us?” Rickie asked.
“Yes.”
“And then meet us, right? You’d tell us where to go and then meet us. You wouldn’t leave me and Cal-babe alone, would you?”
Jake shook his head. “Seriously, if it came down to it, there comes a time when your career comes first, and there are times that your career doesn’t. A total nuclear holocaust is not one of those times. I can probably say in all honesty that I would go AWOL and be with my family. I would not sit in a plane watching the country’s destruction knowing that my wife and family are down there. I couldn’t do it.”
“Oh, Jake,” Cal said breathily. “Look, you gave me chills.” She showed him her arm. “I’m gonna cry. That was so touching.”
Jake smiled. “But . . .” He held up his hand. “It’s totally hypothetical. Because all of us are going to walk off this island, sit down, have a beer - except for Cal that is - and laugh at the elaborate measures this experiment has gone to.”
Once again, like they had done every other time Jake tossed out his disbelief, everyone moaned at him.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
Caldwell Research Institute - Los Angeles, CA
August 17th - 3:15 a.m.
A hazy cloud of cigarette smoke lingered thickly in Aldo’s room. He brought his hand down blindly to the ashtray flicking the ash, missing the overflowing gold dish and spraying ashes everywhere. He had done so for a while, and the gray speckles showed that. Crumbled packs of cigarettes were sprawled about the room. Aldo coughed, and kept his eyes on the television, smashing out the cigarette, picking up his pack, and grabbing another one. The flame on his Zippo rose high and blocked his vision of the television for a second as he lit the cigarette.
Amoeba (The Experiments) Page 73