The metal lid to the lighter clanked loudly as Aldo closed it then tossed it on the table. He blew out the smoke from the long hit he had taken, adding to the cloud already hanging in the room. His dark eyes were even darker, and his face was pale with worry. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, because Aldo hadn’t. His hair curly instead of combed straight, and he wore a sweat suit instead of a business suit. In the quiet of the center when everyone else but those on duty slept, Aldo didn’t. He couldn’t. The news and all that was happening in the world had become an addiction, and he just couldn’t stop watching, whether it was wearing him down or not.
“At eleven p.m. eastern standard time yesterday, rumors were put to rest when President Wilson confirmed that both Russia and China have issued a stern warning to the United States,” the Central News Network anchorwoman said. “Believing it to be a biological weapon gone awry, President Ishtakov urged the United States to move in what he called a malicious violation of humanity. He stated that if measures are not taken immediately to rectify the situation in the pacific, in the best interest of humankind, he and other allies would take the necessary measures to handle it. President Wilson responded to the warning by saying that any unauthorized move would be considered an act of war, and the United States would act accordingly. Experts believe that escalation of tension between the two super powers is imminent.”
Aldo shut off the television. He would leave and watch it with someone else he knew would talk to him. So, cigarette in mouth, he grabbed his pack and a little bag of candy, and left his room.
The halls were dimly lit, as they always were at that time of night. He stopped for two cups of coffee at the vending area and proceeded to the control room knowing that Barb was pulling a shift alone, and figuring she could use some company. Or at least he hoped she would. The soldier posted at the door opened it for Aldo.
“Thanks.” Aldo smiled. “Lots of traffic tonight?”
He shook his head. “No. Not much.”
“Raisinette?” Aldo lifted the little yellow bag gripped between the two fingers that also clenched a cup of coffee.
“No.” He smiled. “Thank you.”
Aldo slipped inside and the door closed behind him. Barb wasn’t watching the news, nor was there any noise at all in the control room except for a steady dripping. Normal for when the participants slept. And Aldo chuckled when he saw that Barb was sleeping. “Hey ya, kid. Brought you some coffee. Wake up.” He stepped down the stairs and moved to where Barb, like so many times before, had her head down. “Barb,” Aldo called to her moving closer. “You have to get up or you’ll lose your job. Not like anyone else wants it. Barb.” Aldo reached to set down the coffees and they fell from his hand to the floor when he saw the reason for the dripping noise. The entire counter was covered with blood, and it had formed a puddle under Barb’s head. There was so much there that it had overflowed onto the floor. “Oh my God.” Aldo touched her shoulder and Barb’s cold, lifeless body, slipped to the right and off the chair. A gouge so huge ran across her neck that her head had been nearly severed. Aldo backed up and spun around to run and get help, but he stopped cold when a revolver was shoved point blank in his face.
Caruso clicked back the hammer of the gun he held. “It’s over.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Look what we did. Look Aldo.”
“I see what you did,” Aldo argued.
“She argued with me.” Caruso had tears in his eyes. “She argued and said the world is not over. How could she say that? All those people we killed. And more. We’ve started World War III because of our greed.”
“You’re out of your goddamn mind,” Aldo said, trying to stay fearless. It wasn’t the first time in his life he had stood facing the barrel of a revolver, and he highly doubted it would be his last.
“We’re all gonna pay, Aldo. Damnation is our punishment. I don’t want to be around when the world ends. None of us deserve to be here if it doesn’t.”
“Maybe you don’t, but I do. And I will watch the world be saved.”
“No you won’t.” Caruso kept his aim on Aldo. “I won’t let you.”
“What are you gonna do? Kill me like you killed Barb? Huh?” Aldo’s face turned red. “You pathetic piece of shit. You wanna take a life, take your own! You’re pissing me off. If you’re gonna shoot me then do it. Don’t stand here before me with a shaking gun in my face. What do you want me to do, cower to you? Well, I won’t do it. Either step aside so I can get someone, or shoot the goddamn gun. But don’t waste my time!”
Bang!
^^^^
Douglass and Ivan paused at the double control room doors to let the four men from the coroner’s office through, two teams of two, each carrying a body bag.
With a sickening feeling in his gut, and still shaking from the rude pre-dawn awakening, Douglass stepped in first. He and Ivan were the last two to stumble out of bed and get down there. Greg and the others, Colin and a distraught Lyle, were already there. . Clean up crews were working on mopping up the blood that seemed to be everywhere.
Greg was even shaken, or at least looked it when he approached the pair.
“What . . . what happened?” Douglass asked.
“Caruso lost it.” Greg rubbed his own head. “From what we gathered, he came in here, and killed Barb while she worked. I don’t even think she saw it coming.”
Ivan glanced down to the room. “What about Aldo?”
Greg turned his head. “Surprisingly, Aldo isn’t shaken. Agitated, yes. Drunk right now, oh boy.” Greg whistled. “Of course. maybe now he’ll pass out and get some sleep.”
“Maybe.” Ivan peered at Aldo. “I’m still concerned for him. This was a traumatic experience.” Keeping his focus on Aldo who sat in a chair smoking a cigarette, Ivan moved with Douglass to check on the man who, though a fellow investor, had become sort of a friend.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island
August 20th - 3:00 p.m.
Rickie stopped and inhaled with a giant whiff when he stepped into the small kitchen. Pots steamed on the stove, and the aroma smelled so good to Rickie. “Stan, Stan, the culinary man.” Rickie peeked at the pots. “Look at you cooking up the ingestable pasta delight. I should be calling you chef Stan-R-Dee.” Rickie chuckled and turned when Lou walked in with Billy. “Dudes. Check out Stan cooking for us all.”
Stan blushed. “I just love it. And since we’re all pretty hungry all the time, my meal will be appreciated.”
Jake walked in with Cal. “I’m following the scent. And Billy, where are your shoes?”
Billy looked down to his feet and wiggled his toes. “Ask your pseudo son.”
“I’m asking you. That is foul,” Jake told him.
“Jake,” Billy said, ignoring Cal’s laughing. “You’re the one who told Rickie that he could purify water if he ran it through charcoal. Well, he took my charcoal inserts out of my shoes and they hurt without any insides.”
Jake looked at Rickie. “You did that?”
“Sarge, like, I had to experiment.”
“Good thinking.” Jake gave him a swat to the arm and turned his head to the stove when he heard the sizzling sound. “Stan, your pots boiling over.”
Another sizzle and Stan looked. “Jake, no it’s not. Look, I have the . . .” Horror filled Stan’s eyes when he reached for the burner. From the hood above the stove, slow and steady they dropped down. Amoebas. “Oh shit.”
Jake spun to Cal. “Get back.” As he reached to shut the vent, down they poured down and shot straight out adhering to Stan as if he was a magnet. Stan began to scream turning about.
Jake flipped up the vent, and in bringing his arm , he reached out and grabbed the fire extinguisher next to the stove. “Lou. Get the other one!” Jake blasted the white cold air onto Stan who cried in pain, shocking the amoebas that covered him.
“Jake!” Cal’s scream mixed with Billy’s.
Jake
spun to see Billy drop to the floor. Quickly he shot the extinguisher at Billy at the same time Lou raced into the room. Both men sent the mist about, freezing the amoebas that scurried around.
“Jake!” Billy screamed in agony. “Oh God, Jake. There in!” He let out a shriek of pain, scrunching his face.
Jake looked down to Billy’s foot. The area below his toes literally bubbled.
Cal dropped to the floor by Billy. “Jake! Help him!”
Trying to block out Billy’s scream for help, Jake jumped over his body and raced from the room. He returned a second later, running by Lou with a ‘get ready’. He positioned himself on one knee in front of Billy, and he lifted high . . . an ax. “Cal, hold him.”
“Oh God! No!” Billy cried out.
Cal braced Billy under his shoulders, clutching his head close to her chest and closing her eyes.
Jake watched the amoebas move up Billy’s leg expanding it as they did. His foot disintegrated, oozing its remains onto the floor. “Lou. Get ready.” Jake held the ax firm, hurt on his face and in his voice. “I’m sorry, Bill. I’m so sorry.”
“No!” Billy cried out. And with a hard ‘slam’ of the ax against the floor, a gut wrenching bellow from Billy, a heart wrenching sob from Cal, Billy’s leg was severed and blood shot out like a full force faucet with amoebas whistling loudly as they flew about.
Jake sprang up in the middle of the flying haze of fire extinguishers that Rickie and Lou were spraying. He whipped his canvass belt off his pants and swooped it down catching Billy’s leg. Jake crossed over the ends, and yanked it tight with all of his might stopping the blood from flowing.
Billy’s entire body shook, and he murmured sounds of pain, his head shaking from side to side. Cal still held him, her hands covering his face, her lips to his head, and she clenched him to her and cried loudly, sobs that were almost screams.
Jake stood up from the river of blood on the floor. He ran his bloody hand across his face staring down to Billy, then up to Lou and Rickie. He closed his eyes briefly and reached down to help Stan to his feet. “You all right?”
Stan nodded. “Thank . . . Thank . . .” He closed his eyes tightly when he saw Billy on the floor. “Oh God.”
“Stan, what do you have here to cauterize this wound?” Jake asked. “We have to do this and we have to do this right now.”
“We have a small laser upstairs. That will work.”
“Get it,” Jake told him. “And what do you have for pain?”
“Some morphine. Not much.”
“Get that, too. Get all that you have, and anything, even ointment, that will help with infection.”
Stan nodded and backed up.
“Bandages!” Jake called out. “Hurry!” He turned to Rickie and Lou. “Blast the amoebas one more time, then get them picked up and burned before they revive.”
Both Lou and Rickie, looking at Billy, nodded their heads and quickly followed Jake’s orders.
Jake walked over and squatted down before Cal and Billy. “Cal.” He said her name strongly. “You have to calm down.”
Cal was hyperventilating, holding on to Billy. “I . . . I . . . I can’t. Oh God. I . . Can’t.”
“Cal. Listen to me.” Jake grabbed her arm. He had never seen Cal that hysterical. He worried that she, too, would go into shock. “He needs you strong. Get strong. Right now. It’s only gonna get worse.”
Cal nodded.
“Babe, I’ll get someone else to hold him.”
“NO!” Cal shook her head. “No.”
“Okay.” Jake looked up when Stan ran back in the room. “We have to do this. Stan, give him one good dose. We’ll save the rest for later.”
“We had more than I thought, Jake. We’ll be good for a while.”
“Hit him,” Jake ordered. “Cal.” Jake braced under Billy’s arms and lifted him into Cal and between her legs. “Use your body, okay?”
“Okay.” Cal closed her eyes. “Billy,” she whispered. “It’ll be okay.”
Billy just stared, saying nothing, his breathing rapid and huffing.
Jake took his pulse, and that, too, was rapid. “We can’t wait for the drug to kick in. Stan.” Jake held out his hand.
Stan laid the laser into Jake’s palm, pushing the rest of the machine closer. “All ready.”
Jake knelt before Billy’s severed leg. He was grateful that it was a clean cut under the knee. It would make his job, though heart breaking, easier to do. Jake swore at that moment he was feeling every ounce of pain Billy was and every ounce of pain he saw on Cal’s face. “Hold him Cal. Get ready.” Taking a deep breath, Jake brought the laser into Billy’s injury. And with the first touch, the first singeing sound of flesh, Billy released one more long shrill cry of pain and then his head dropped to the right and he passed out.
^^^^
The storage closet was deemed the best place. Closed off, no ventilation, no cool air from the air conditioning. Private. All the boxes had been moved out and a mattress moved in. A single box was left for water, cloths, and medication.
Jake checked the bandaging on Billy’s leg, propped it up on a pillow, then covered him with the third blanket. Billy was sleeping. Jake checked his pulse, felt the temperature and feel of his skin, and then stood up. He looked at Cal who leaned, back to him, face buried in her hands, against a shelf. “Cal.” Jake walked over to her. “Listen. We have no IV’s. Whenever he wakes up, and I’ll tell this to everyone, we have to push the fluids. You got that?”
Cal nodded.
Hearing a soft sob come from his wife, Jake moved closer to her laying his hand on her shoulder. Cal immediately spun and fell into his chest, and Jake wrapped his arms around her so tight. “I’m going to get you a drink.”
“I don’t want a drink.”
“You need one. You need to calm down. This is not good for our babies, all right?” He felt her head nod in agreement against his chest. He moved back a little and lifted her chin. “I am so sorry for this.”
“Why would you apologize? You saved his life.”
“I feel really bad. You’re so upset, Cal.”
“I can’t help it.” Cal looked at Billy. “This is the second experiment. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things. But this . . . it just hit me.”
“Billy isn’t a nameless, faceless participant. He’s your friend. Your really good friend. Of course it’s going to hurt to see this.”
Cal wiped her hand hard across her face, pushing away the tears. “I don’t want to leave him tonight, Jake. I don’t want to leave his side. What if he wakes up? What if he’s in pain, scared, and just needs someone? I . . .”
“Cal.” Jake laid his finger across her lips. “It’s fine. You stay with him.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I’m sure.” Jake looked down at Billy. “Stay. In fact, I have to go do a check of the building. I’ll stop back.”
“Okay.” Cal tipped toed up and kissed Jake. She folded her arms and moved to the floor by Billy, lowering herself down slowly.
“I’ll get you something to sit on?” Jake told her.
“Jake?” Cal called to him.
Jake stopped in his reaching for the door. “Yeah?”
“Jake, I am so very proud of you. So proud of how you reacted today and what you did. Just know that.”
Closing his mouth, Jake softly smiled at Cal. “Thank you for that.” He gave Cal a peaceful look, then feeling better, walked from the closet.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island
August 21st - 7:45 a.m.
Billy’s head tossed side to side avoiding the cool cloth that Cal tried to wipe him with. He moaned softly, eyes closed, his body shifting in a turn of agitation.
“Jake.” Cal looked at Jake as he examined the amputation. “He’s in pain.”
“I know,” Jake spoke softly. “But there’s not much we can do. Right now I don’t want to give him too much morphine. He’s still in shock and the pain
hasn’t hit him entirely yet. I want to conserve what we have for when that happens.”
“What can I do?”
“Cal, there really isn’t much you can do. But . . .” Jake covered Billy’s leg back up. “He’s doing better than I expected. I’ll be back.” Slowly, Jake walked from the closet, where Rickie and Lou were waiting in the hall.
“Sarge, like, how is he?” Rickie asked.
Jake shook his head and walked to the recreation room.
“Sarge.” Rickie and Lou followed “Sarge?”
“He’s not good, Rickie.” Jake peered down to him. “Not at all. He lost a lot of blood. He’s in shock, and God forbid infection starts. We’re in trouble.”
“Is he going to make it?” Lou asked.
Jake hesitated before he answered. “No. In my opinion, I will be surprised if Billy lives out the week.” He saw the odd shifting eye looks on Lou and Rickie. “What?” Jake turned around to see Cal.
Cal slammed the cloth into his chest. “You just lied to me in there.”
“No, I did not.”
“You told me he was doing good.”
“No, Cal. I told you he was doing better than I expected, and that’s the truth.”
“Is it?” Cal demanded.
“Yes.”
“Be honest with me, Jake. How bad is he?”
“He could be worse.”
“Jake.”
“Cal.” Jake softened his voice with compassion. “Billy is . . . Billy is dying.” He blinked long when he heard the sadness seep from Cal. It hurt him to tell her. “I’m sorry. Without proper medical treatment, the only thing we can do is make him comfortable, and that’s why I’m saving the morphine. If infection sets in, we can pretty much push him close to overdose.”
Amoeba (The Experiments) Page 74