Diffusion Box Set

by Stan C. Smith

  Ashley froze. Bobby dug his fingernails into his thigh and cursed himself silently. Why was he such an idiot? But she wasn’t laughing at him or cussing him out. Instead, it was like she was thinking. What if she said yes? What would he do then? He had no idea.

  And then Ashley did the last thing he expected. She reached out and grabbed his head, leaned over him, and put her mouth on his.

  Bobby had never kissed a girl before, although he had practiced against the mirror with the bathroom door locked. Ashley pressed her mouth hard against his. And then he felt the tip of her tongue. He did not dare move his tongue, and she didn’t do it again—just that one quick flick of her tongue into his mouth. And then she pulled away.

  Bobby watched her. “You kissed me.” It was a stupid thing to say.

  “If you were a few years older, I’d do it again.”

  “You’re only three years older than me.”

  Ashley sighed. “You’re what, fourteen? You know what will happen when we get home. I’ll have my senior friends. You’ll have your freshmen friends. I’ll say, ‘Hi Bobby’ when we pass in the hall, but that’ll be about it.”

  She was right, of course. Ashley flopped her head against the side of the seat, and Bobby could smell the hand soap she must have used in her hair in the makeshift shower in the hangar.

  “You know, it’s funny,” she said. “I can’t have you for my boyfriend. But if any boyfriend I’ve ever had were on this trip instead of you, I think we might all be dead.”

  This didn’t seem very funny to Bobby. “Why did you kiss me?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Why did you ask me to be your girlfriend?”

  “Because I like you.”

  “Well, that’s why I kissed you. But if you tell anyone, I’ll just deny it. Who do you think they’ll believe?”

  Bobby felt the tingles in his body slipping away, replaced by tension. Best to change the subject. “Do you think we made a mistake, bringing Addison with us?”

  She looked at him without answering.

  “I’m afraid of what they’ll do with him when we get home,” he said.

  Still she didn’t answer.

  “He could do something awful, like destroy the whole world.”

  “I guess we have to trust them to do the right thing,” she said.

  “I thought I trusted myself to do the right thing, but look what happened at the hospital.”

  Ashley pulled her leg in from the aisle and sat on her foot. “Maybe we won’t even need hospitals anymore. It seems like things can only get better, since the world is so screwed up now.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Actually, Bobby didn’t think the world was screwed up at all. He had heard people say that, but he’d never understood why.

  As Carlos snored in the next booth, they talked about Miranda and Addison and Roberto and Russ. They talked about Samuel and the hanging village and the Papuans who still lived there and the ones who had died. But they didn’t talk about home again. Or school. Or boyfriends and girlfriends.

  Finally, Ashley yawned and went back to her own booth. Bobby rolled over and closed his eyes. He touched his lips lightly, thinking of the tip of her tongue.

  Mbaiso had labored through the previous day and then had traveled through the night and into the morning. Traveling was slow, because the human following him could not keep up. The man was sluggish and had difficulty negotiating hills and thick undergrowth. But they had finally reached their destination. The tree kangaroo crouched low and peered through a gap in the leaves. Before him was a village with several small huts. A much longer hut stood beyond the smaller ones. Three human women sat around a fire pit between the huts, talking and performing some task with their hands. Five smaller humans laughed and chased each other around the women. Mbaiso watched them playing. In all the centuries of his existence he had rarely seen small children in the hanging village. The villagers there almost never died, and there had been no need for new children to replace them.

  Mbaiso turned around and waited for the man to catch up. Finally, he saw movement. As the man plodded slowly up a slope, the array of green lorikeet feathers in his hair could be seen bobbing back and forth. Sinanie came to a stop after nearly tripping over Mbaiso. He looked down at the tree kangaroo with vacant eyes. He said nothing, because he was not capable of speaking.

  Mbaiso moved to the side. Sinanie then walked past the tree kangaroo, pushed through the vegetation, and emerged into the village clearing. Mbaiso remained hidden and watched.

  The children saw Sinanie and immediately began yelling and pointing. The women rose to their feet and also began yelling. Other villagers emerged from the huts, mostly men. The tribesmen wore caps of human skin, and their upper bodies bore rows of swollen scars resembling crocodile skin. Several of them carried sharpened spears.

  The men gathered around Sinanie. They spoke forcefully to him in their tribe’s language.

  Sinanie stared at them, but he could not speak.

  The tribesmen spoke louder. One of them slapped Sinanie’s face but got no response. They turned him and pushed him toward the forest, but Sinanie simply turned back around. One of the men struck Sinanie’s head with the side of his spear, knocking him to the ground. Sinanie gathered his feet under him and slowly stood up.

  The tribesmen spoke to each other. Abruptly, the men who had brought spears with them turned on Sinanie, thrusting their spears with full force at his neck and face.

  Sinanie fell to the ground. The tribesmen stood over him watching until his body stopped moving.

  Again the tribesmen spoke to each other. Two of them grabbed Sinanie’s body by the ankles and dragged it across the dirt to the edge of the fire pit. The women went to one of the huts and returned with sharpened wedges of bamboo. By this time the entire village had gathered around and they began butchering the body, preparing for an unexpected feast.

  Mbaiso was nearly exhausted, but he had no desire to rest so close to these villagers. So he began his journey back. It had taken him most of the previous day to create a copy of Sinanie developed enough to convince the cannibal tribe it was real. There would be enough flesh to feed the entire tribe. And soon after being consumed, the flesh would carry out its intended purpose. The villagers would no longer have any memory of a hanging village that existed only one day’s travel up the river.

  After moving a good distance away, Mbaiso paused in the lower branches of a fig tree to eat some of its fruits. Again he examined his last array of directives from the creator, and he designated another of them as completed.

  Chapter Seven

  Quentin felt someone shaking his shoulder.

  “Mr. Darnell. I must speak with you.”

  Dr. Saskia stood in the aisle next to him. Quentin rubbed his eyes. It felt like he’d been asleep for a very long time. He looked around. Lindsey slept curled up in the next seat. It was still dark outside the windows, but they were descending. Was it possible he had slept longer than twelve hours? He shook his head to clear it. “What is it, Paul?”

  The doctor looked at Lindsey and hesitated.

  Quentin pulled himself up and moved to another row of seats against the bulkhead separating this area from the larger cabin where most of the others had settled in for the night. Quentin heard Colonel Richards’s voice coming from beyond the bulkhead.

  Saskia frowned at him. “I woke up some minutes ago, after having the most extraordinary dream. It was a dream, but not a dream, if that makes any sense.”

  “Yes, it does. Did you move through space and then come to Earth?”

  Dr. Sakia blinked. “That is precisely what happened.”

  “We’ve all had that dream. That’s how the Lamotelokhai explains how it got here. Did your dream end up in a tree in the rainforest?”

  “It was in a tree, yes. But it didn’t end there. The dream showed you and your friends with it there, and then bringing it to civilization.”

  Quentin smiled. “I guess that means we’re an important p
art of the story.”

  Saskia did not smile. “Mr. Darnell, I have always looked at dreams as merely a physiological curiosity. But this dream was unlike any I have ever had. I was entirely lucid.”

  Quentin considered this. “Paul, you were at the hospital. Addison put his hands on you when you were hurt. Whatever the stuff is that he’s made out of got into your system. That’s why you had the dream. And there will be more. Just wait until you wake up tomorrow. Do you see why we’re trying to get Addison safely to the U.S.?”

  “I do, which is why I have come to you now. Colonel Richards has not slept. He talked to Addison all night. He doesn’t seem himself.”

  “He’s still at it?” Quentin got up and went forward to the larger cabin. Saskia followed. The other doctors were scattered about, all of them apparently asleep. Richards and Addison still sat where Quentin had last seen them. But the area around them had changed. Some seats were missing, and a few were grotesquely mangled. Bizarre objects were scattered about: a metal watering can, a stack of paper currency at least five inches tall, a large shapeless mass that appeared to be gold, an antique phonograph player, complete with a horn speaker, and several devices that looked like weapons from a science fiction movie. As Quentin stared at these last objects, alarm began constricting his chest.

  In the midst of all this sat Richards, talking frantically, his voice now hoarse. Addison patiently listened. Richards glanced up as they approached, but he just went on talking.

  “… the extent of my knowledge of the mechanism. But I’m thinking you can fill in the gaps so that we end up with a functional device. Do you think that’s possible?”

  Addison’s face was expressionless. “Yes. But the device then may not be what you desire it to be. My own ideas for design are different from yours.”

  Richards waved his hand in exaggerated dismissal. “That doesn’t matter. Once it is functional, we’ll deconstruct it. Then we can make them ourselves.”

  “What’s going on here?” Quentin asked.

  Richards turned. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  Saskia was right; Richards was not himself. There was no sign of his typical self-control.

  “We were. We slept a long time. Dr. Saskia says you’ve been at this all night.” Quentin waved at the strange objects. “Colonel, what is all this?”

  Richards looked at the area. “I have learned a great deal about the capabilities of this young man.” He looked at his watch. “And there is precious little time before we touch down.”

  As if on cue, an electronic ding came from above, followed by the pilot’s voice announcing that they were approaching LAX and they should move to their seats. Richards turned back to Addison.

  Quentin picked up one of the peculiar science fiction devices. It was heavy and solid in his hands. “Colonel, this looks like a weapon. Please tell me you didn’t ask Addison to make these. That’s not at all why—”

  Richards swung around to face him. “I’m trying to learn what is possible here. If you honestly think that all possibilities will not be explored when the experts get their hands on him, then you are goddamn naïve. Put that down before you hurt yourself.”

  Quentin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Richards had ignored all their warnings. After staring at the colonel for a moment, Quentin looked at the weapon in his hands. Suddenly it became clear beyond any doubt that Samuel had been right. Men like Richards were simply not equipped to deal with the Lamotelokhai. Perhaps no one was. Quentin’s fingers trembled with anger—anger at himself and anger at Richards for so brazenly proving him wrong. Richards glared, looking from Quentin’s eyes to the weapon. Quentin realized Richards was afraid. This had to mean that the weapon was real, which only intensified Quentin’s disgust. He had to do something.

  Quentin fumbled with the weapon and found a trigger. He raised the thing and pointed it at Richards. “Colonel, your time with Addison is over.”

  Richards shifted in his seat like he was preparing to lunge at Quentin. But he sat tight. Dr. Saskia stumbled into a row of seats and crouched against one of the windows.

  Richards started to speak, but Quentin cut him off. “I said you’re done! You can sit over there until we land.” Quentin nodded toward the far side of the cabin.

  Richards closed his eyes as if trying to calm himself. “You’re making a mistake, Darnell. Place the weapon on the floor now.”

  Quentin took a threatening step closer. The device felt warm in his hands now, as if responding to his intentions. “Addison, please move away from Colonel Richards. I have reason to believe he should not be allowed to talk to you.”

  Addison stood up and moved away.

  Richards’s face grew dark with anger. “You have goddamn nerve, Darnell, I’ll give you that. But your behavior is ill advised. I’ve made progress here. Can’t you see that?” He pointed to the odd assortment of objects around him. “Did you know your son could change common materials into just about anything? Even gold!”

  Quentin still pointed the weapon at him. “As a matter of fact, I did know that. But compared to his other abilities, that’s not important. And it’s not important compared to what he knows. He has been here for half a billion years, and he has collected—”

  Quentin stopped. Something wasn’t right. Richards’s eyes had shifted to the side, looking over Quentin’s shoulder. And then his head nodded almost imperceptibly. Before Quentin could turn, he was hit from behind. Two arms shot around his shoulders, grabbed the weapon, and pulled it up over his head. Quentin fought to hold on to it.

  “Release the weapon, Darnell!” The voice was inches from his ear. It was William Kessel, the Navy medical officer.

  Quentin pulled the weapon back down to the level of his face. He let go with his right hand and thrust his elbow into Kessel’s gut. The man grunted and doubled over, forcing his hand to pull hard on the weapon. Quentin felt the trigger move.

  There was a low pulsing sound that Quentin felt more than he heard. For a brief moment that sound was all he was aware of. And then the world around him exploded. Deafened by the roar of rushing air, Quentin watched in disbelief as loose items flew upward and out a massive hole in the ceiling. Kessel’s arms were now around Quenton’s waist, holding on to him instead of the weapon. Quentin looked at Richards. The man seemed confused as the debris around him was sucked upward. His eyes met Quentin’s, and then he was lifted off the floor. His head struck the edge of the opening, and his body flipped over and shot straight up and out the hole. Quentin watched it rise through an upper cabin he didn’t even know was there to a second hole above that. Then the rushing air above the plane ripped the body from view with terrifying force. Quentin stared at the gaping hole. For a brief moment he actually saw stars in the night sky where Richards had disappeared.

  The suction threatened to pull Quentin off his feet, and he suddenly realized the only reason he still lived was that Kessell now held his legs tight against one of the seats.

  Bobby sat up and banged his shoulder on the wall of his booth. Something was terribly wrong. The plane shook like it was falling apart, and a deafening roar hurt his ears. Emergency lights now cast a red glow throughout the first class cabin, and Bobby saw that Carlos and Ashley were sitting up too. Ashley tried to say something, but he could barely hear her.

  Bobby leaned over and looked out the window. Instead of the solid black of night, he saw an ocean of yellow lights below them. They were over a large city and were dropping fast. The stewardess ran by them, her wide eyes emphasized by the red light of the cabin.

  Bobby made his way toward the rear of the plane. The floor shook so much that he had to clutch the booths to stay on his feet. He entered the larger cabin and squinted against the brightness of the lights that were still on. At the far end the ceiling was torn wide open, and air gushed through the hole, carrying all kinds of debris with it.

  The plane suddenly pitched, dropping even faster. Bobby lost his balance and tumbled backwards, hitting the floor. A
s he gasped for breath, he realized the air in the cabin was very thin. He pulled himself up. The plane’s motion had jarred some of the overhead storage bins open, and now blankets and pillows flew out the hole in the ceiling.

  Most of the doctors were there, clinging to seats and staring at the hole above, but the teachers were gone. And then Bobby spotted Mr. Darnell, directly under the hole, trying to get through a doorway, holding on to whatever he could. Mr. Darnell turned and saw Bobby. He yelled something. Bobby couldn’t hear the words, but from the look on his face he knew it was: “I’m sorry.” And then Mr. Darnell went through the doorway and was gone.

  The plane lurched again and Bobby fought to stay on his feet. Ashley grabbed his arm from behind and yelled, “You need to come back and buckle in!”

  Bobby nodded. “Go! I’ll be right there.”

  Their eyes met. She was terrified. They were going to crash and Ashley knew it.

  “I have to find Addison!” Bobby yelled. “I’ll be there in a second.”

  Ashley nodded and released his arm.

  Bobby turned around and scanned the cabin. He spotted Addison, sitting against the outer wall. He was alone, and he looked very small amidst the violence around him.

  Gripping seats hand over hand, Bobby made his way to Addison and crouched beside him. He looked past Addison out the window and saw rows of airport runway lights. But the plane was dropping far too fast. It was literally falling toward the lights.

  “We’re going to crash,” Bobby cried into Addison’s ear. “Please help!”

  “I cannot stop this,” Addison said.

  Bobby felt faint. “Can’t you fix the plane?”

  Addison glanced at the huge hole above. “Not in time to stop this.”

  Bobby looked out the window. Addison was right. There was no time.