The Lamotelokhai was gone—or at least so depleted it no longer had a consciousness. And it had said that it could even get so depleted that it wouldn’t be able to replenish its parts. Would it still be here if it hadn’t set aside enough of its memory to preserve Bobby’s consciousness? If so, this was his fault. If it was too far gone to be replenished, the world would have to go on without the Lamotelokhai’s help because the Lamotelokhai had sacrificed itself to save him. Of course if his plans to stop the outbreak failed, none of this would matter. And that would be his fault, too.
He needed the Lamotelokhai to come back.
Bobby put his hand on the ground beside him. He formed a vision in his mind of his particles flowing into the dirt, converting its elements into new particles, and flowing back into him.
He waited.
The process started. He could feel it, a slight tingling, a gradual rebuilding of what he had depleted. But he also felt the slowness of the process. So he waited.
Little by little, his body grew.
“Lamotelokhai?”
Nothing. Maybe it had lost too much of itself to ever return. He remembered the Lamotelokhai saying that if this happened it should be destroyed.
After several more minutes, he decided the process was taking too long. The others would eventually give up and leave him here. He turned and gazed at Helmich’s compound, still burning like it was filled with gasoline, and he thought of what the Lamotelokhai had tried to tell him about its other existing parts.
Bobby couldn’t afford to wait any longer. His body was almost back to its normal size, although he still had only one leg. A missing leg wouldn’t have been a problem for the Lamotelokhai, so why should it be a problem for him? He focused his thoughts. He envisioned his new particles migrating to the stump of his leg and building new tissue—bone, cartilage, muscle, skin.
A few minutes later he got up and started walking toward the burning compound.
At a hundred yards, he felt the intense heat. At fifty yards, he had to turn off the pain. But he kept walking. The Lamotelokhai had said its old parts probably hadn’t been destroyed by the fire, which meant they were still in the compound. Bobby was going in after them.
The way he saw it, there were two possible outcomes. One was that he would find the old parts and use them to restore the Lamotelokhai’s consciousness. The second was that he would simply burn up and die. And the last of the Lamotelokhai’s parts would die with him. Perhaps this was not such a bad thing—after all, the Lamotelokhai had recommended destroying it if it got too depleted to function.
Either way, he was doing the right thing.
He walked right up to the compound. The entire roof had been destroyed, and huge rolling flames were billowing out the top. Sections of the outer wall had collapsed, and fire raged out through the gaps. In a wide perimeter around the compound, the ground had been blackened from the heat and smoke. Bobby looked at his t-shirt and shorts. They were not burnt or even singed, further proof that they weren’t real. He imagined if he turned his pain back on it would be so intense it might destroy his consciousness.
He walked along the outer wall until he found the door he and Ashley had left through only two days earlier. The broken door still lay on the ground, but Sofia’s body had either burned up or been dragged off by creatures. Flames spewed out through the door, and Bobby approached it until they licked at his face. His memory was perfect—it had been perfect since he’d met the Lamotelokhai eight months ago—so he could easily recall the way to the lower level from this door. All he had to do was retrace his steps.
He looked at the sky one more time. The aircraft was still there. The others hadn’t given up on the Lamotelokhai yet. Ashley was in that aircraft. And Quentin and Lindsey, and Carlos. He studied the plane for several seconds, knowing this might be the closest he could get to seeing his friends—his family—one last time.
He turned his eyes back to the open furnace before him. He walked through the doorway into the flames. He stopped. This is what fire looks like from the inside? Everything was orange and yellow and white. It wasn’t as loud as he’d expected. In fact, it was quieter than outside the compound. He held up his hands. They appeared only as dark shadows against the brightness of the surrounding inferno. Apparently his skin wasn’t burning, although it was hard to tell.
He walked down the long hall, stepping over chunks of concrete from the collapsed roof. Although the walls were intact, most of the ceiling had blown out or fallen in, which explained why the entire compound had looked like a huge circular fire from above. The floor was intact. This meant the lower level might still be accessible. Bobby turned several corners until he found the staircase on the outer wall—the staircase where he had allowed the creatures to escape and kill three and half million people.
The door had partially melted, so he was able to push it aside easily. With his pain turned off, the softened, glowing metal didn’t even feel hot against his bare hands. He went down the stairs and was able to do the same to the door at the bottom. He entered the huge open space of the lower level. The fire was lighter in color here, perhaps hotter. Whatever substance Sofia had released with the 4:44 protocol must have been more concentrated down here.
Bobby paused to assess his condition. His hands and fingers were still intact, although he had to hold them in front of his face to see them. He felt his abdomen and legs. His clothing and skin were cool to the touch, but for all he knew, his body could have been a thousand degrees.
He walked to the center room. Surprisingly, the glass-fronted chambers were still intact. That bastard Helmich had used some impressive materials.
Bobby went to the nearest of the ten chambers. One of the last things Helmich had done was to unlock the chambers. The door to this one was jammed, probably due to the heat. But Bobby had no problem pushing it open.
There were fewer flames inside the chamber, and he could see beyond a few inches for the first time since entering the compound. In the middle of the floor, surrounded by charred wires and connectors, and still covered by its clear microchamber, was Addison’s head. One tenth of the original Lamotelokhai. It appeared to be undamaged. Even Addison’s long, curly hair was unburnt.
The latches that had held the microchamber to the floor had melted, allowing him to kick the chamber over. He picked up the head. Immediately he felt particles moving into him. He held Addison’s head until the sensation stopped. The head had gotten only slightly smaller, but somehow he knew there was nothing else within it he needed, so he dropped it on the floor and went to the next chamber. There he found most of Addison’s right leg. He picked it up, and the same thing happened.
He went from chamber to chamber, forcing open each jammed door, removing each microchamber, and soaking up some of the particles from each of the Lamotelokhai portions. Finally, in the last chamber, he found Addison’s left leg, the last of the nine portions he had left behind two days ago. When he had absorbed what he needed from it, he dropped what was left of the leg.
“Lamotelokhai?” He spoke aloud, but almost no sound came out, probably because he was actually breathing fire.
He spoke with his thoughts. “Are you there?”
No answer.
Maybe it would take time. Or maybe it wouldn’t work at all. Bobby made his way across the open space to the stairway, climbed to the first level, picked his way over chunks of the roof, and finally emerged from the flames into the relatively cool afternoon sunlight. He walked away from the compound to the parking area. There were still two cars in the lot, although one of them was battered and upside down. He stopped and stood on the gravel, looking up. The black aircraft was still there. He imagined Ashley, Quentin, and Lindsey arguing with Colonel Northcott, trying to convince him to keep waiting for the Lamotelokhai to finish its job and return.
He gazed out at the Caribbean Sea and realized the perimeter bombing had stopped. He couldn’t imagine how they could know for sure the outbreak had ended, so he assumed they had
either run out of bombs or given up.
He looked at his body and hands. He didn’t seem to have been damaged by the fire. He turned his pain back on. Nothing—he felt fine. He bit his lip to make sure his pain was actually working. It definitely was.
“Lamotelokhai? Are you there?”
Symbols appeared before his eyes. They were jumbled and didn’t make sense. Then he heard a voice in his head. It wasn’t human, and it was speaking a language unlike anything Bobby had ever heard, with grunts and twitters, and some sounds that seemed like two voices at once. He listened, fascinated, for several minutes. And then the voice changed.
“Do you understand me now?”
Bobby was suddenly alert. “Lamotelokhai? Is that you?”
“No. But I am familiar with the entity you call the Lamotelokhai. It was created by my kind.”
For a moment Bobby thought he hadn’t heard the voice correctly. He quickly replayed the memory to be certain. “How can you be talking to me? I thought all the Lamotelokhai’s creators died millions of years ago.”
“That is most likely true, although I cannot know for sure. Your Lamotelokhai has told you that because it has been instructed to.”
Bobby frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I am the consciousness of one of my kind. I am stored within the data provided to your Lamotelokhai. I was inserted there before your Lamotelokhai was sent from its planet of origin to find a suitable destination. Your Lamotelokhai does not know I exist within its data.”
Bobby was trying to comprehend, trying to decide what questions to ask first. “Why doesn’t it know about you?”
“My purpose is very limited. I do not exist to interact with your Lamotelokhai. I become active only when certain transitional events occur. Your Lamotelokhai has initiated a process that marks a transition in its existence and purpose.”
Bobby began pacing back and forth, hoping this would help him think. “Is the Lamotelokhai dead? Is that why you’re talking to me?”
“Due to your efforts, your Lamotelokhai is again fully functional. Your efforts have been extraordinary. And fascinating to evaluate.”
“Evaluate? You mean like a test or something?”
“Not in the way you are thinking. But analysis of your efforts does provide interesting data so that I may properly assist you in this transition. If, in fact, the transition does take place.”
“What transition?”
“Your Lamotelokhai has transferred control of its functions to you, an indigenous being of this planet. This is an act that can only be initiated under very specific conditions. I have determined that these specific conditions have been met by the events that have recently occurred. That is why I have become active. If you choose to continue this transition, I will provide guidance.”
Bobby was starting to feel frustrated. He repeated his question. “What transition?”
“The transition of your Lamotelokhai into the consciousness of an indigenous being. Or, if you prefer, the transition of your consciousness from a biological body into your Lamotelokhai. You must decide, Bobby, if you wish to become your Lamotelokhai.”
Bobby stopped pacing. “What choice do I have? My body’s gone.”
“As you know, your Lamotelokhai can create another body for you. It can then insert your consciousness into that body.”
Bobby considered this. “No. That happened to Ashley, and we’ve figured out what it really means. The Lamotelokhai can make me a new body and add my consciousness to it, but then I die. Or my consciousness dies. The other Bobby may be fine, and he’ll have all my memories, and he’ll think he’s me. But he won’t be me, because I’ll be dead, and I won’t get to live his life. I don’t want to die, so I don’t want to do that.”
“Your explanation is correct,” the voice said. “And your decision is noted. You will become your Lamotelokhai.”
Bobby stared at the ground. He had too many questions to know where to begin.
“I will provide you with guidance by connecting your consciousness to my data. I will give your Lamotelokhai discretion over when to reveal portions of it to you.”
“What kind of data?”
“Data pertaining to my kind, the creators of your Lamotelokhai. The data is configured to be immersive. When portions of the data are revealed to you, it will seem to you as if you are actually visiting the world of my kind. You may talk to us, ask us questions, even touch us, or live among us for periods of time if you wish. This is our way to teach you about who we were and what we accomplished. Do you understand?”
Bobby nodded slightly. “Yes.”
The voice was silent for a moment. “I will withdraw now. When my kind created your Lamotelokhai and millions of others like it, we predicted that fewer than one in six thousand would eventually find itself in circumstances that warrant the transition you are experiencing. It has been my honor to speak with you and to oversee this transition. Perhaps we will speak again soon.”
The voice fell silent.
Bobby said, “Are you there?”
“Hello, Bobby.”
Bobby recognized this voice. It was his own voice, but not quite. “Lamotelokhai, you’re back?”
“Yes. I see that my old parts have been incorporated into our body. While I was gone, you must have entered the burning compound on your own. A surprising and courageous decision.”
Bobby said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel any different from before?”
“I do not feel, although I have researched what feeling means to your kind.”
“So nothing is different about you?”
There was a pause, “There are some changes to my core data associated with the parameters of my primary purpose. I considered this to be curious but assumed it was a result of repeated recent reconfigurations of my information. If these changes are what you are referring to, may I ask how you became aware of the changes?”
Bobby smiled. “Never mind. I was just making sure you’re okay.”
“I believe I am okay. Bobby, look to your left. I detect that someone we know is approaching.”
Bobby turned. There wasn’t one person—there were two, walking toward him on the gravel road. Bobby’s eyes were drawn to the bright red clothes of the person on the right. It was a woman, and she looked like she’d just survived a war. Bobby shifted his eyes to the person walking next to her, a man, wearing filthy, pale green hospital clothes. Bobby felt a surge of confusion. It couldn’t be. He took a step forward, and before he even realized it, he was running.
“Peter!”
Chapter Thirty
Quentin rubbed the makeshift bandage covering his arm. His cuts were fairly deep, but they would heal quickly. And so would the cuts on Lindsey’s arms. The damn reptile-birds’ teeth had been wickedly sharp, but with everyone’s combined efforts, they had been able to subdue the creatures and throw them out the hatch. Most everyone had been scratched or bitten, but so far no one had started transforming. This would be a do-or-die test of their mbolops’ ability to protect them. However, even if the mbolop saved everyone from transforming, they couldn’t bring Bobby back from the dead.
Standing at the open hatch, Quentin stared at the ground below. He needed to feel like he was doing something useful. It had been over two hours since the birds had attacked, and he had nothing else to do but watch for danger and wait for the Lamotelokhai to return to the aircraft.
The sight of Bobby falling to his death kept playing on a loop in Quentin’s mind. Because of Quentin, Bobby had been through some harrowing events in the last year. He had even died in an airliner crash. But that had been with the Lamotelokhai beside him, able to shift the very properties of space and time to save him. Or at least to save a copy of him.
But not this time. Bobby had fallen to his death, and the Lamotelokhai hadn’t been at his side. In fact, even now the Lamotelokhai probably wasn’t aware of what had happened. It was trying to save billions
of lives. Even if it was aware of Bobby’s death, Quentin doubted it would use precious time restoring the life of one boy.
Quentin looked out over the blue water of the Caribbean. The surface was now undisturbed all the way to the horizon. The military’s barrage had ended. After talking to General Vickars on the aircraft’s radio, Colonel Northcott had grimly announced that the barrage had stopped not as a result of confirmed victory, but simply because available resources had been depleted. The only evidence that there might be reason for hope was the spectacular dispersal of thousands of white geese that had occurred an hour ago, followed a half-hour later by a similar dispersal of dark aquatic creatures just off the shore. These events must have been the Lamotelokhai’s handiwork.
Lindsey appeared at Quentin’s side. As she gazed at the scene below, she asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Quentin shook his head. “Bobby’s gone. I don’t know what else there is to say.”
“Well, maybe I need to talk.”
He looked at her. She had tears in her eyes.
“Quentin, please?”
He turned and embraced her. “Okay, Linds. I’m sorry. Let’s talk.” He took her hand and started leading her toward some unoccupied seats at the far end of the aircraft.
Suddenly, three bodies appeared in mid air in front of them and immediately fell onto the seats and floor in a jumble of flailing arms and legs. Tree kangaroos scattered in panic. Quentin stopped abruptly, and Lindsey collided with him.
“Ow, damn!”
“¡Eso duele!”
“Well, that didn’t go so smoothly!”
Quentin stared at the thrashing bodies, ready to push Lindsey back if they were dangerous. Lindsey cried out and then rushed past him. She nearly dove onto one of the struggling figures and pulled him to his feet.
“Bobby! You’re alive!”
It really was Bobby. And Peter. Both of them apparently back from the dead. And a woman Quentin had never seen before was with them.
Ashley forced her way past Quentin and threw her arms around Bobby, nearly knocking the boy to the floor.
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