by S. H. Marpel
He frowned at that.
“George, are you sure you wouldn’t want some more pancakes? We’ve got a bunch of batter mixed up and it’s not as fresh if you have to refrigerate it. My treat.”
He was looking down, now. And puzzling it all out. “Sure, Suzy. I could use some food for thinking.”
I patted his hand to cheer him up. And we both noted the electricity that our touch made. He looked up. My heart raced a little again, while a bit of pink rose up my chest toward my face.
With a practiced smile (to keep the blush off my face) I rose to go toward the back, calling out as I went, “Molly will have those right out for you. Let me refill that tea of yours meanwhile.”
As I moved to the back, Molly looked at me from across the grill. I nodded. She smiled and nodded back.
By then that blush had gone full on. She just winked.
Molly’s got good hearing, always did. But didn’t want to embarrass me any worse than I already felt.
II
MOLLY HERSELF BROUGHT back a pitcher of tea, refilled my glass and then sat down.
“Hi, George. I’m Molly.”
I nodded. “Glad to meet you. Those are some great pancakes.”
She smiled. “Thanks. We do our best around here. Suzy’s a good cook on her own. And she’s just about ready to bring your pancakes out.”
I smiled back.
“Now, George, Suzy tells me you’re in college.”
“Just wrapping up. Two-year degree. English major.”
“So, you’re learning what they can teach you about writing?”
I had to roll my eyes. “Pretty boring material in those texts. But at least I like writing, and my teachers say my writing is pretty good.”
Molly smiled. “That’s the key point - doing what you want to do, what you like to do. It shows in the quality of what you can give to others.”
“Funny, that’s what a couple of the teachers said to me. They said I was turning in material that I must have spent more time on than the other students - but it just seems to flow out of my fingers or something. Before I know it, I’ve got way more words that I need. And I can tell the teachers don’t get through the whole thing, because their marks quit about half-way through. Like they gave me an A on effort, but my grammar and spelling are pretty good, so that helps.”
Molly grinned. “That’s like my two kids. No, Suzy isn’t one of mine. She’s a doll, and great with people. But she’s filling in after Hami, one of my daughters, who left some big shoes to fill. She was the star cook of this place, and has a restaurant of her own now. Been cooking since she was able to walk. Even her mud pies turned out great.”
I had to grin in return. “So this is your place, then. Oh - right. That’s your name above the door.”
“Sure. And my husband has the bakery next door. But I wanted to come out and see if we couldn’t help you with your assignment. Now, I don’t know about your ‘scoop’, but do you have some other assignments for your finals?”
I frowned. “Most of the rest of the courses just have those stupid tests. But I do have another one on English Comp. I’m supposed to write a short story - either fiction or non-fiction. But if it’s non-fiction, it has to be both entertaining and have the footnotes about where we got our data.”
Molly smiled. “Meaning you’d rather write a fiction piece.”
I nodded, I could feel my frown ease.
“I think I’ve got a story for you that you could write up either way. But you choose. It might be that finding other references to verify the details would be tough.”
Suzy came out with a hot, fresh, tall stack of pancakes, and two more glasses of tea on a platter. She sat the delicious-smelling stack right in front of me, one tea each for her and Molly. The sight of the pancakes in front of me made my stomach growl, my mouth water.
Then Suzy herself sat down right next to me and I forgot to reach for the butter or syrup.
So she got them for me.
Suzy smelled like fried food, and something else, maybe roses. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I didn’t know all the various spices and sweets they use in kitchens and cooking. Of course having Suzy so close and Molly talking across from me was making all my efforts to spread butter and syrup on my ‘cakes more difficult than usual. And while Suzy was doting on me, Molly had started telling me that story.
Soon I was caught up in it, and attention on my dining pleasures dissipated...
“Rochelle and Hami both told me different versions of what happened. So I figured somewhere in between was the truth of them. And I raised my kids not to tell lies. But they read a lot of fiction and have some uncles who like to ‘exaggerate’ a bit - all to make the stories more interesting. So I’ll do what I can to keep this straight for you - how I heard it, at least....”
III
THE FRONT DOOR OF THE saloon-restaurant swung open with a bang. A haggard young man with glasses and a dingy white lab coat pushed on the door frame at each side to hold himself up.
Not for long. The floor got him after that.
Rochelle was the first to reach him. I came next. While she was checking him out for injuries, I brought a pitcher of cool water, a glass, and a dish towel. Each to our own specialties.
“He’s mainly just worn out, dehydrated.” Rochelle took the towel as I poured some cool water on it. She wiped his face and then folded the cloth long-ways and placed it on his forehead.
I poured a half-glass of water. As she held his head up, I was careful to only give him a little sip.
His eyes opened and fluttered shut again. Otherwise, he didn’t move. But that was typical of people that Rochelle touches. They calm right down and relax.
Same thing happens when people eat my food. Not surprising to either of us. Something we’d gotten used to while we were growing up.
I put the pitcher and cup down and got up to get one of the tablecloths.
Then brought it back – folded up into a little pillow for him.
Rochelle got that under his head, and then went back to holding that cloth on his forehead and helping him sip water out of that cup.
We both waited. He opened his eyes and then looked at me straight.
“You’ve got to help her. They’ve got her. And I ... I...”
That was too much. He just passed out, cold.
I WENT UPSTAIRS AND came back with some blankets. One for padding on that hard floor, and the other for use in case he got chilled from his exhaustion.
Rochelle just stayed with him, holding and mopping his forehead. Tracking his pulse by having a hand on his heart. I’d seen her do that before with pets and kids that got badly injured. It still amazed me what she could do with her hands-on healing.
But she said that about my cooking, too - so we’re even, I guess.
After awhile, the guy started coming around again.
I covered him up with the second blanket after a bit, in spite of the desert heat. Inside this old building it was shady, while warm. He was worn out from walking – wherever he came from – and Rochelle wanted to make sure he didn’t chill from any temperature changes as he cooled down.
He opened his eyes and looked at the two of us. Nice-looking guy. Not like my Chaz or my sister’s Rick. But his eyes were clear now, if a bit red from the dust and wind.
“I know you - you’re the one with the gooey buns.”
“Meaning my special cinnamon donuts.”
He nodded. Then looked at Rochelle. “But I don’t know you.”
Rochelle just smiled at him. “I’m her sister. Glad I was visiting when you stumbled in.”
“Well, thanks to the two of you.” He struggled to rise.
Rochelle’s firm hand on his chest and forehead persuaded him to relax again. A person can’t do anything when she’s got you in that hold. Believe me.
“What’s your name?”
“Roger.”
Rochelle smiled at that. “OK, Roger - I’m Rochelle and this is Hami.”
“Now, just lay there, relax, and tell me about this girl you said was trapped.”
Again he started to rise, but her touch was like he had wide straps around his head and chest. So he quit struggling.
His eyes went to mine. “We both came here a few days ago - maybe a week, I lost track – anyway, somehow we found you and got one of your gooey cinnamon buns. All that extra caramel.” He smiled slightly.
“So that was great, and we went on with our day-off drive, then came in as usual the next day. That’s when the alarms went off and they arrested us.”
He looked around the room without moving his head. “Well, it doesn’t matter about their security issues any more. I can’t get in trouble any worse. Because now they’ve labeled us both terrorists.”
AS HE STARTED FEELING better, we got him sitting up at one of the round tables, in one of the bentwood caboose chairs we have. He had one of the blankets around his shoulders. And meanwhile, I’d whipped up some weak potato soup so he’d get his electrolytes back to snuff. Plus all the water he wanted to drink meanwhile. (Rochelle didn’t think even weak tea was a good idea yet.) I did get him some saltines, but he wasn’t much interested in those.
We just waited in quiet until he wanted to talk again.
He looked at the two of us and then told the short version.
“We had a day off and went driving around. When we got into the first town, there was this tall, older guy who was giving away something he called ‘Time-shifter muffins’. With a coupon that gave directions to this place.
“They were delicious, of course. So we drove this way and found your restaurant. Split one of your gooey-cinnamon buns and some tea.
“Then we got back on the road enjoyed the rest of the day. But it all started going weird when we came back on schedule for work at the base again.
“Once we checked in and went through security, some alarms went off. So we stopped the car and got out. We knew the drill - arms out so we could be wanded with one of their detectors.
“But this time, they pulled their guns and backed away. We were told to put our hands behind our heads and walk to one of the buildings near the entrance. Now, that was a bit alarming, but nothing we weren’t already briefed on. Because there were false positives on the sensors at times, and we all drilled being on both sides of handling an outbreak. It was just that nothing like this had actually happened before.
“Anyway, we went along and didn’t really get alarmed until we were put into the sealed elevator to go down. That was one for specimens, not people. There weren’t any controls on the inside, nothing for us to do but ride it down. So me and Sammy - that’s her name - just held hands until it stopped.
“Then the doors opened and people with hazmat suits met us. They were holding guns. And guided us to our cells. At least the air ducts between them allowed us to talk.
“Not that we could plan anything, since we knew everything was overheard and recorded. And the cells were clean, since they’d hardly been used by humans - and not since our operation had started here. At least as far as we knew.
“That went on for about a week, then one day, my cell was left unlocked and slightly open. At first, I didn’t take the bait. Because it was too obvious. But after awhile, I heard echoes of people talking in the corridors. And that meant some other doors were open somewhere.
“Now what they were saying was that they couldn’t track our car. They’d followed its GPS, but where we went had no positive readings on the sensors. So they couldn’t find this place.
“And that’s why I’m sorry I had to come here. Because it means they let me out just to track me here. But – you’re my only hope in rescuing Sammy. Otherwise, she’s just going to be nothing more than a lab rat for them. Until she dies.”
IV
BOTH HAMI AND I HAD shocked looks.
Then I got pissed.
This guy could have died getting to us. He must have walked miles. Meaning he got a ride somehow, but was left on his own. Then that term “lab rat”. No one, no creature on this earth, deserves to be experimented on - for any reason.
I looked at Hami again. She had calmed down. So I took a few deep breaths on my own before I said or thought anything out loud.
“Rochelle, have you seen Jean lately?” Hami had a thoughtful look on her face.
“No, I haven’t. He said he would be gone for a couple of days - but that means he should be showing up any time now.
As if on cue, the sound of a throaty “beater” truck sounded outside, as it clattered and squealed to a stop. I cringed. That truck really ran much better when I drove it. I was going to need some words with him.
Some footsteps on the porch outside, and then the screen door opened easily. Tall, gray-haired Uncle Jean had arrived. Behind him followed an even older man, but still taller and whipstock straight. I recognized him, too. He still had that salt-and-pepper hair and the sharpest mind I’d ever encountered.
“Jean, Abe ! Perfect timing.”
They were both smiling at us, until they noticed our visitor.
“This is Roger. He’s an escaped lab rat and they are still holding his girlfriend. Some underground research facility. Barely got here before collapsing. Here, take my hand, I’ll fill you in on what I’ve gotten from him.
Both men came to hold my hand and their eyes widened. Then both frowned to concentrate on details.
Jean looked at Abe. “It’s your turn to plan this one out. We’ll follow your lead.”
I HAD TO DO SOME INTENSIVE healing on Roger to get him in shape to travel. Meanwhile Abe, Jean, and Hami loaded some supplies into her traveling cooking-coach - or as Rochelle prefers to call it, her “mobile kitchen”.
Then they got the coach out front and all five of us piled into it. That was the first step, Phase I - needed supplies and logistics.
Finding the “secret” base location was simple, but we had to wait a little bit before their regular supply truck came by. It “just happened” to breakdown and coast to a stop at the crossroads where we were sitting.
Then we came out and offered to help. While Jean and I got the two drivers out and under the hood (Jean was the mechanic and I was the handsie-flirty helper) Abe and Hami quietly got into their truck’s cargo area, and moved most of their food items around. So they touched everything they had in there.
Of course, my “hanging all over” these two guys gave me everything they were thinking about. It wouldn’t matter shortly, since everything we touched would set off their sensors. I kinda felt sorry that these two nice guys were going to be taken into custody as “terrorists” and sent down below as additional “lab rats”. But we’d look out for them after that happened.
Long story short, Jean was able to find what was “wrong” and “repair” their truck. And we both waved goodbye as they drove off. (Well, that was what they remembered. Because I was sitting between them in their cab, and the rest of our “strike team” was in with their cargo in the back of their truck.)
That was Phase II.
ROLLING UP TO THAT secret base and getting inside was simple.
The alarms went off once, but then went silent almost as fast. Not that they weren’t registering us, but they quit telling anyone we were here.
So the guards watched as the two men - all alone, according to what those guards saw - verified the inventory and cross-checked it as the drivers unloaded it. One thing not on the order list was a couple dozen fresh muffins. Of course, the two guards “had” to sample them, and then sent the rest down with the supplies.
All they could see on that freight elevator was the supplies themselves.
And as we rode it down, we heard the alarms go off up above. This time, they didn’t stop.
Once we got to the bottom, it was quiet. We could hear some muted running in the corridors nearby, so our new supply run wasn’t particularly a high priority compared to the alarms going off top-side. Of course, no sensors triggered any ala
rms where we were. Imagine that.
Abe actually stayed up on top. Jean and I went with Roger to find where they had locked up his Sammy. Hami stayed with the food.
Roger didn’t know the auxiliary tunnels very well, but they all lead to the main science areas, so it wasn’t long before we were able to get to where the hubbub was.
Those two guards and the two supply truck drivers were all being hustled into their own holding cells by hazmat-suited guards and scientists. Once they were secured into individual cells, then the bulk of those suits bobbed and shuffled off to other areas. Roger and I stayed behind. It didn’t take long for us to get Sammy’s cell opened, and she and Roger rushed into each other’s arms and hugged and all that.
That then brought another alarm, since her cell was open.
Another set of hazmat-suited characters arrived, but we just stayed out of their way (and out of sight) as they inspected her now-empty cell.
Yes, if you already haven’t guessed, there’s a trick we Lazurai can do of only letting the non-infected see us if we want them too. So the four of us just followed the suits that left, while a couple of guards stayed behind guarding the locked cells.
That stroll quickly turned into a run, since everywhere they went was turning on alarms just as fast as they left that area. They were trying to keep ahead of the closing security doors. So it looked like some infected someone was chasing them. Any windows in those doors, and all cameras didn’t reveal anyone in those hallways.
Of course, the supervisors in the offices following their progress soon concluded that it was probably an air-borne contamination. So all the vents got shut down.
And with all that running, the guys in suits got a bit perspiration-enhanced.
We eventually got to the main control where the alarms caught up with us. Right inside that room. They said to each other that control itself was now infected.
Of course, that was true.
