Amoeba (The Experiments)

by Jacqueline Druga

  The phone rang.

  Everyone sprang up as if they had just jumped from their skin. Greg held up his hand and picked up the phone. “Haynes.” His eyes closed and he smiled. “Yes. Thanks.” Slowly he hung up the phone and stood from his seat. “Three days!” he yelled over the railing to Lyle. “Lyle. Get Stan on the phone. Round up Graison. We have to get this plan in motion because we’re gonna need him.” Getting the ‘O.K.’ from Lyle, Greg faced the investors and Colin. “I’ll go through what we have to go through with Graison about the rescue and the ground explosives. By the twenty-eighth, we should have them off the island and the island and amoeba nest destroyed. That’s cutting it pretty close, but . . .” Greg twitched his head to the right. “It’s still less than a week’s time, and we’ll beat the Russian’s deadline.”

  “Dr. Haynes.” Lyle stepped up to the meeting level. “We’ve lost all communications with them.”

  “What?” Greg looked. Only one monitor showed a picture, and that was of the aerial shot. Everything else was static. “What about the phones?”

  “Dead, sir. Nothing. I barely got a second sentence out to Stan and everything went out.”

  “Damn it.” Greg huffed. “We need communication. Let’s see if we can clear a signal.”

  “Sir,” Lyle interrupted him. “It’s the amoebas. They’ve finally blocked our satellite on the island.”

  “Can we bounce a signal from the one in the sky?” Greg asked.

  “We can try.”

  “Get on it,” Greg ordered him and turned to everyone. “Now let’s just hope that Jake has implemented a backup plan to clear that satellite, because we have to get in touch with them. We’re not talking a lot of time to pull this off once we start, and we won’t be able to do it if our people there . . .” Greg pointed to fuzzy grey monitors, “. . .are in the dark about it all.”

  I-S.E. Thirteen - The Island

  August 21st - 2:05 p.m.

  “Now what exactly did they say?” Jake asked Stan as he pulled up his protective suit.

  “All Lyle said was to get you. They have the rescue plans and only have . . . and that’s all I got. Dead.”

  “So for all we know they can be pulling this off in an hour, a day, or a week.” Jake zipped up.

  “Exactly.”

  “Cal, check me for holes,” Jake told Cal who stood with tape.

  “No, Cal,” Lou’s voice came in the room. “Check me for holes.”

  Cal lifted up from visually examining Jake. “Lou?” He was in a biohazard suit, all but the headgear.

  “Lou.” Jake stepped to him. “What the hell are you doing? I need you in the monitoring room messing with that dish while I clear it.”

  “Jake, that’s stupid,” Lou told him. “Why would you do that? You’re our strongest player here.”

  “That’s right. I go out there.”

  “No.” Lou shook his head. “If something goes wrong and we lose you, we’re screwed.”

  “Lou, I have to do this,” Jake argued. “Now get out of that . . .”

  “No!” Lou said strongly and adamantly. “I remember when . . . God this sounds so sci-fi. I remember when we went out to wipe out those mutant animals. And Cal, she wanted to go really bad, but you wouldn’t let her.”

  “That’s because Cal is pregnant and she had the baby to think about.”

  “That’s right.” Lou raised an eyebrow. “You told her to get her priorities straight. And I’m telling you, Jake, with all due respect, to do the same. You have a wife and two kids on the way. Who’s gonna protect them and take care of them through the years if something happens out there to you?”

  “I’m clearing off a satellite dish, Lou. That’s it.”

  “Okay, if that’s it, then what’s the big deal? Let me go out there and clear it. There are so many of them out there, let me be the one to take the chance of getting crushed by them. Not you. Jake, go to the monitoring room.”

  Jake looked down at Cal and then back to Lou. “Fine. But I’m staying suited. If you take too long or I think there’s a problem, I’m coming out.”

  ‘That’s fine.” Lou lifted his headgear. “But I’m sure I’ll be back and be the big hero on this one.” He smiled. “After all, I am Mad Max.” He set the headgear over his head, his muffled voice seeping through as he connected it. “Check me for holes.”

  ^^^^

  Jake, in his unzipped suit, sat down at the table before the small monitoring wall. He checked for power to make sure everything was on. He looked to his left to the window he wished he could see out of so he could watch, but he couldn’t. He could only hope for the best as Lou ventured out into the black world.

  From the fire extinguishers that Rickie and Stan sprayed and the air conditioning in the building, a blast of cold air shot out when one of the front double doors opened, causing the amoebas to scurry outward away from the building.

  Not an amoeba was there when Lou stepped out and under the protective awning. But just a step down, and they were everywhere, a carpet, moving, thick, and Lou hadn’t any perception of how deep they were. He could only wait until he stepped down into them and felt how far he sank.

  Lou was grateful he couldn’t hear very much. He could only imagine how loud all of those things were. He had to take a second to look around, take in the awesome sight of what was before him. The sun reflected off the sliminess of the amoebas as if they were black snow, casting sparkles of color about, like floating stars, and immediately Lou wondered if he had stepped into some sort of Grim Reaper’s Christmas wonderland.

  Chuckling at his own thoughts, Lou forged ahead carrying two fire extinguishers. Even though he wore shoes he could still feel them under his feet with every step he took. They were slippery and squishy as if he were walking in a pool of worms, and they adhered to him, causing pressure and heaviness on the suit but not enough to slow him too much or stop him. Lou didn’t have far to go. Ten feet to the side of the building and a climb up the ladder attached to the side of the wall. That would take him to the roof, and there he would blast them with the fire extinguisher and clear them from the satellite and as many as he could from the roof.

  They slipped and dripped from the ladder like mud. Lou knew it was going to be a task climbing up there with only one hand. After blasting the ladder once with the mist, he tucked the two smaller extinguishers under his arm, and he began to climb.

  They dropped on him and came at him from behind. Like waves they attacked, crashing into him with a smashing force. The climb became increasing difficult the further up he went, but there was no way to stop, no way to hold on and spray the ones that had him until he reached the roof. And finally Lou made it.

  He could see as soon as he rolled onto the roof and into the thick pile why they had lost communications. The amoebas had congregated on the roof and piled high around and on the satellite so much so that he could barely see it.

  Feeling like he was in the second grade again when Newark had the historical snow storm, Lou had to inch his way through the thickened amoebas to the large mound he believed was the satellite dish.

  He began to blast them and they dropped from the dish. He called himself the exterminator, seeing the dish more and more with each spray. It was working. He set down the fire extinguishers and took the time to lift the amoebas that had become still and hard and carry armfuls over the building and drop them. Lou could have stopped. He could have just quit when a lot of the dish and control box had been exposed, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to take the chance of losing communications again. Not when they were nearing the vital rescue operation.

  Lou wanted to clear only a small section of the roof if he could, and even a single layer of the amoebas would help. Freezing them was easy, and lifting them and dumping them off was a piece of cake. He used the last of one of the extinguishers, but enough amoebas had not been cleared. Figuring he could jump off the roof and land safely with on top of all the amoebas below then run like hell for the doors, Lou bega
n to spray his safety extinguisher, the one he was to use for his protection only.

  With a hiss and a flicker, all eighth of the monitors came back on in the monitoring room. Jake found himself staring at a shot of Greg who wasn’t even paying attention. “We’re back.” Jake grinned and Greg turned to face the camera.

  “Jake.” He spoke his name with relief then Greg lifted his eyes. “I see Lou is clearing the roof.”

  “Clearing the roof?”

  “Yeah, Lyle, run him that shot.”

  Jake watched the feed hit the one monitor. Lou was dropping the extinguisher. “Damn it, Lou get down here.”

  “I believe he’s on his way.” Greg smiled.

  Lou closed one eye in squeamishness as he stepped over the roof lowering his foot down and sliding off amoebas so he could get his footing. He knew it was going to be tricky going down, but he thought he’d give the ladder a try first before he made that leap.

  If he thought going up was bad, going down was worse. Not only did the amoebas pelt him, but this time Lou had no way to clear the ladder so he could hold on, and the slimness of the amoebas got under his fingers and feet causing Lou to lose his footing.

  Why he didn’t just let go and fall was beyond him. He had a soft blanket of amoebas below him. Perhaps it was instinct, perhaps he didn’t think. Feeling himself falling, he reached up with one of his arms, gripping onto a rung, and swinging backward crashing into the building. It didn’t pain him as much as the sound he heard when he tried to return to the ladder.

  Rip.

  Lou’s eyes widened, and he knew his suit was torn. But where? He was covered with them as it was, and he didn’t want to waste any more time in getting back to the safety of the building. He let go of his hold on the rung, dropping down into the depth of the amoebas. Landing feet first, Lou’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground landing face first into the pile. Hurriedly, he picked himself up, and in his first running step back to the building he felt them.

  They were closer than they were before, creepy, crawling multitudes of them. Not on top of his suit, but in it. He could feel them on the legs of his jeans, covering his shins, thighs, groin and stomach. “Oh God.” He raced through the thickness back to the building.

  “Jake,” Greg called him. “Do you see that?. Something’s wrong.”

  “I see that.” Jake, in his jump from the seat, grabbed his head gear and fire extinguisher and flew from the room, racing through the hall, down the stairwell and to the main floor. “Get ready to let him in!” Jake called out. “Get ready to blast!”

  The figure of an amoeba-covered Lou was seen nearing the building, trudging, turning, spinning as he fought.

  “Rickie, open those doors! Stan, get ready with me to blast them!”

  Rickie kept his fire extinguisher between his legs to grab easily as he moved to the side of the door and gripped the handle.

  “On my call.” Jake held his extinguisher ready. And so did Stan. He waited. “Ready and . . . Now!” Jake called out. Rickie opened the door and he and Stan, full blast, released the mist from the extinguishers. Suited up fully or not, Jake, still spraying, raced out, emerged through the mist, saw Lou on the top step, grabbed hold of him, and led him in.

  The second they got Lou inside and the doors shut, frozen amoebas dropped from him, but Lou still screamed in horror.

  “Jake!” Lou’s face was red and amoebas crawled within his head gear. “They’re in me. Jake! Oh God, help me! Don’t let me die like this! Jake!” The extending of Lou’s suit, the distortions that came from within it, could be seen as Lou screamed in horrific pain. “Jake, do it! Help me!”

  Keeping his focus on Lou, Jake reached into his unzipped suit, pulled the revolver from the waist of his pants, extended it out in a high aim, pulled back the hammer, and after making eye contact with Lou, Jake closed his eyes and fired one shot.

  Lou dropped to the floor. The plastic shield of his head gear was shattered and red with blood. Amoebas flew out and Stan hit them with the extinguisher.

  Jake saw Lou’s suit stretch out and high. “We have to get him out of here. Now. Rickie, get the door.”

  Rickie was backing up shaking his head.

  “Goddamn it, Rickie, grab that door!” Jake yelled. “Stan, you’re in charge of blasting them.”

  Stan nodded and prepared. Rickie, still focusing on a bubbling Lou, reached for the door.

  Rushing, Jake grabbed hold of Lou’s arm. He could feel as soon as he gripped it that nothing but amoebas were in there. There was no weight to Lou’s body, and Jake pulled him to the door with ease. As soon as Rickie opened it and Stan blasted, Jake pulled him out and raced back in.

  The door shut. Standing there watching the rise of the cold fog, Jake, Rickie, and Stan watched Lou’s body on the steps of the building, his suit growing wider and higher, stretched to the limits like an over expanded balloon. Then finally, the suit gave in. With the force of an explosion, the suit burst in every direction, sending a rain of black and red up and out, blood mixed with amoebas. After the fountain mixture of the two had splashed out and landed everywhere, they could see there was nothing left on the porch, not a piece of a suit, nothing, that even remotely showed a sign that Lou was ever out there.

  In the silence, a Rickie sob burst through. Jake laid his arm on his back, pulling Rickie into him, and he turned him away from the scene. They walked away knowing that even though Lou was gone, what he had done would never be forgotten or buried like he now was somewhere within the amoebas.

  ^^^^

  It was far into evening by the time Jake returned to the monitoring room with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass. He had the building to check, he had Billy, whom he kept drugged up, to deal with, and he had Rickie who wasn’t dealing with Lou’s death well. Jake could have returned earlier, but those were his excuses. The truth was, like everyone else, he was too down, and he just wanted to take some time, get himself together, and deal with it. Then he could deal with Caldwell and everything they were going to tell him.

  A pen and notebook before him, Jake poured about two inches worth of booze into his glass, sipped it, then downed it. He refilled his glass and made his connection to Greg.

  “Jake.” Greg spoke his name, hesitating some in speaking to him. “How uh, how’s it going up there?”

  “It’s going.” Jake brought the glass to his mouth.

  “We realize that perhaps you aren’t in the mood right now to talk about this, but we have to.”

  “I know.”

  “You ready?”

  “Yes.” Jake set down his glass, picked up the pen, and leaned back in the chair. “Go on.”

  “Construction on the four Lawson Sprayers, our prototype, will be complete in three days. We move into phase one on the fourth day. With me?”

  Jake merely made a scoffing face.

  “All right, here’s the way it will go. First, the Lawson Sprayer. We’ve redone the water tanks on fire rescue choppers. They will be attached with the Lawson sprayer. So, instead of dumping, it sprays, like a thin haze of rain. Not much, but not much will be needed. We’ve been testing in the desert. Instead of water, the tanks will be filled with liquid nitrogen. The first chopper will make its pass dumping everything it has from one tank strictly over the volcano. Then he’ll circle around with the second chopper, and side by side they will canvass the island releasing the liquid nitrogen down upon you. This should take approximately twenty minutes. When they are done, chopper one will lower the detonation devices down into the center at the same time chopper two lowers the encased nuclear device into the volcano. The lowering of these items will also be our tell tale sign if the amoebas are indeed frozen. If they aren’t, our men will get it. When it is all clear, that is where you and Stan come in. You have to lay out the detonation devices. We have a link system here and a five point plan. The control center is center. One detonation device will go there. We will send you a map of the region and where we want the other five set up. They w
ill be placed in five points like a star. You’ll see that on the map. We have put together what we feel will be your shortest route. Set them up, get back to the center.”

  “Whoa.” Jake held up his hand. “Get back to the center? When does the rescue take place? I want my wife off this island.”

  “The next day.”

  “Why the next day?”

  “We have a problem,.” Greg explained. “Right now air pressure is stagnant. The hot air is moving in but it’s not going anywhere. Basically, you don’t realize it, but you’re in a heat wave and it’s not expected to lift. If it does, then the rescue will take place that day. But we don’t believe it will, and that’s why we have to do things this way. We got about two and a half safe hours of freeze time, Jake. That’s not much. We figure it’s gonna take you close to that to get those detonation devices squared away. The freezing process takes about, like I said, twenty minutes. We’re pushing it here. Once we get everything in place, the next day, our choppers refuel and head back out, and they will ice the island back up. They will then lower a boat down to shore, and when it is clear, you and the others will leave the center, head down to the beach, get in the boat, and row out three hundred and fifty feet where the chopper can safely pick you up, amoebas or not.”

  “Why don’t they just pick us up on the beach?”

  “They can’t land or get close to the ground,” Greg said. “The blades will generate the warm air, speeding up the reviving process. And besides, once the island is frozen, it’s gonna take awhile to get you to that beach. You’ve got an injured man you have to carry, and a very pregnant wife. It will be slick, and you’ll have to move slow.”

  Jake was writing everything down. “When do we detonate?”

  “You don’t. We do, once you are off that island. The link system works like this. We send a detonation signal from the center bomb, and it sends a signal out to the others. Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom. All six go off in sequence, napalm fries out the surface. You’re in the air, out of harm’s way, the nuclear device is activated. Bye-bye island.”