by Mike Arsuaga
Lorna winced inwardly, but then became angry. “Get out, Bobby.”
After Bobby left, Lorna wondered about his change of personality. Underneath all of the measured affection and good cheer toward the family, and Ed in particular, lurked another person. Did the rest of them know about this dark side, or did they remain in denial? Right then, she couldn’t solve his problem or even provide an answer. She shrugged, returning to work.
The incomplete draft of the email Bobby had interrupted still glowed on the screen. With her train of thought broken, she saved it, next calling up the latest on the X-10 investigation. News footage of the warehouse where Lorna had photographed the bulletin board came up. Military vehicles surrounded the building. There’d been a fire fight when S.W.A.T. teams tried to carry out a search warrant. They besieged the place until two companies of the Regional Guard arrived from the Ocala barracks with tanks, and concluded the matter in short order.
“The leader of the North American X-10, Jeremiah Winston, has been identified among the twenty-six X-10 members killed in the raid,” the tiny image of the reporter on the monitor said. “Sources close to the investigation say officers of the General Electronics Corporation are linked to the release of the agent, which is over ninety-percent fatal to The Others.”
A soft knock tapped on the door, still closed after Bobby’s heated departure. Ethan stepped in. “How are you feeling?” he asked. In a form of greeting, everyone in the compound had fallen into the habit of inquiring that of each other.
“Okay. What about you?”
“Same. I guess. Four more came down with the virus in the past hour.”
“There’s some good news. Jeremiah Winston’s death is confirmed.”
“The incident doesn’t cure anyone or resurrect the dead,” Ethan somberly reminded her.
“The other good news is General Electronics is looking pretty guilty right now. We need to have Ed use whatever influence he has to keep the authorities on task with the investigation and prosecution. General Electronics is more powerful than any government. Coven International may have to keep the pot stirred.”
“I think he understands.”
* * * *
That night, Lorna dreamed about Cithara. The priestess waved a parchment in front of her face. “The cure is in you.” She repeated the statement several times Lorna woke up with her head spinning. The clock said four am. Throwing on a robe, she decided to go for a walk.
The building surrounded a domed atrium, like a square doughnut. A swimming pool occupied the center of the open space, fenced, with the gates locked and lights turned off for the night. The hum of the filtration pump dominated the otherwise quiet scene. Even the corporation obeyed utility restrictions. Paying top premiums kept the pool filter working, but still required all lights except those essential for security to be off after midnight.
A single orange lamp atop a pole covered the atrium in a boll of weak amber light up to about the third story. Above that, the illumination thinned out to nothing, leaving a clear, moonless, black sky. The shadowed areas on the objects in the atrium became patches of black, the walls rising up on all sides in a bizarre Halloween coloring of black windows in rows on the orange facing.
Lorna sat on a metal bench underneath a live oak. The cold from the iron seeped through the robe’s thick quilt. While trying to interpret the dream, she rubbed back and forth on the bench seat to warm it up. In the distance, the flaring ember of someone drawing on a cigarette lit up the darkness surrounding the adjacent bench. Wondering who else couldn’t sleep, she walked toward the disembodied glow.
“Well, hello.” Bobby spoke from the darkness in the pleasant voice so much more familiar and different from the crazy one.
“Hello, yourself.” She stopped just outside of the glow, illuminated by the small circle of orange from Bobby’s cigarette. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
Pulling another drag, he said, “On rare occasions. Usually while beating myself up after doing something stupid.”
“Is that an apology you’re trying to make?”
Exhaling with a deep whoosh of humid tobacco smoke, he said, “Yes, I guess so. I was going to look you up in the morning, but now’s as good a time as any. I acted very badly today. I’m so sorry.” He dropped the cigarette on the sidewalk, and a black shoe emerged from under the bench to crush it. “All I can say is the strain of all that’s been going on got to me.”
“I guess I can understand.” They walked in the direction of her apartment.
“Will you forgive me?” His eyes implored, like the repentant sinner right before the preacher’s hand presses on his forehead to submerge his body backward into the stream that washes all things clean.
No question, the guy oozed charm. What did Ed say? Bobby could sell ice to Eskimos. “Yeah, sure.” She tried to sound like it was no big deal.
Accompanying her to the elevator, he cupped her waist in the enticing grip of his long fingers, holding the door open to usher her in. When they arrived at her floor, he stepped out with her. “Let me walk you to your door,” he said. “No tricks, I promise.”
If he got out of line, a picture of her morphing into something almost seven feet tall flashed in her mind. He’d be dead before hitting the floor. “Okay but remember, no tricks.” Arriving at the door, she inserted the key and turned the knob. With a hand on the doorknob, she faced him. “Well, I guess here’s where we say good night.”
“In more ways than you know, bitch,” Bobby uttered before he touched the stun gun to her arm.
* * * *
Upon awakening, she realized several hours had passed. The first crepuscular rays of dawn slid in through the apartment windows. Bobby had dimmed the lights, and sat on the couch in her living room off to the side, just inside her field of vision. Unable to turn her head, she suspected from the uncomfortable draft blowing far up her thighs, Bobby had stripped her naked. He’d bound her feet to a noose around her neck working back into the rest of the knots. Several pillows, placed under her abdomen lifted her hips into the air.
“What are you doing, Bobby?” she asked, trying to remain calm, while fighting the nibble of panic on the fringes of her mind.
“Why, I’m going to screw your brains out, of course. Then, who knows?” The arrogance contained in his snicker chilled her to the core.
Lorna pulled against the ropes, which succeeded in tightening the noose. When taking a breath, the air dragged through her wind pipe. “Not a good idea,” Bobby counseled. “The more you struggle, the tighter the stranglehold gets, something Clarisse learned the hard way.”
“Clarisse? Your girlfriend? What did you do?”
“She’s dead. I had to test the knots on someone. After the little set-to between you and me this afternoon, I decided the time had come to make my move. She stood in the way.”
From the corner of Lorna’s eye, an ominous grin flickered into view.
“But why do all this? You have everything.”
He shifted position on the couch, providing a better view of her exposed parts. Not only the view, but the conversation aroused him. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be part of a family where you live with the certainty death comes for you while everyone else lives…well…forever?”
“Your father understood. Your brothers did, too.”
“Oh, yeah. A little more quality time with good old Dad doesn’t make up for shit, not to mention spending every day seeing the pity in their eyes for the poor little hybrid. I have to say the whole thing really sucks.”
“Your aunt and uncle don’t see it that way. They’re content with their lives.”
“They’re damned fools!” Enraged, Bobby lurched to his feet. Lorna winced; afraid he might cinch up the noose.
But he didn’t. After a minute, he sat back down.
He doesn’t want this to end quickly.
Lorna considered morphing, but the ropes were too thick to burst. When her limbs expanded, the bindings would sever the major b
lood vessels. She’d bleed out before getting free.
“Clarisse begged for her life. She died quite badly,” Bobby said. “You seem to be cut from tougher cloth. I don’t picture making you beg will be easy.” Then he crouched down low. Her skin crawled when his lips brushed her ear. “But before I’m finished, you will.” Hot, humid breath accompanied the harsh whisper. “You good-for-nothing lycan bitch, by God, you will!”
Lorna closed her eyes tightly, as if that could somehow make him go away.
“My contacts at General Electronics were right,” Bobby continued. “They predicted everyone would jump at the idea to gather in one place.” He burst into a smile. “And guess what? It worked.”
Lorna perked up. “What do you mean?”
Once again, he sprang upright. Pointing to his chest with a thumb. “I’m the Viper at the breast of Salvation. You know, the one in the prophecy. Damned proud of it, too.”
“You introduced the virus?”
“Yes.” Roughly, he pulled her hair back, uncovering the ear underneath. “When they explained the wonderful results the disease could produce among woofers, how could I refuse?”
“How could you do this to your own family?”
“Shut up, bitch. I have no family.” Tightening cords around her neck squeezed off the rest of her statement. Details of the room began to fade, and she became lightheaded, on the way to passing out.
Cithara protect me! It cannot end this way.
Have forbearance, child. Pretend to surrender. Succor comes.
Encouraged by her inner voice, Lorna took a different tack. “So what are you waiting for? Are we going to talk all night, or have a little fun?”
That stopped him for a moment. Deliberately, he surveyed her exposed, helpless loins and shed his clothes below the waist. “See this.” He moved close, inches from her face. In his hand rested a dark, blood-filled penis, reeking of his malevolent odor. “In a minute, this will be in you up to your eye sockets.”
Bobby walked behind. Lorna heard a squirt, followed by the rub of lotion on flesh. Then he approached with slow, deliberate footsteps. Clenching her eyes shut, she braced for his intrusion.
The apartment entry door slammed open. “What are you doing, brother?” Ethan cried out.
A thrill swept through Lorna. The Marines had landed.
“Stand back, sir.” A security guard moved Bobby away from Lorna. Ethan cut the bindings and covered her with a blanket.
“She wanted to do this,” Bobby shouted in a cracking voice. “The bondage was all her idea.”
“He murdered Clarisse,” Lorna said.
By then, the security guard had handcuffed Bobby. “Take him out. Hold him in the isolation laboratory until I arrive,” Ethan said. Then he turned to Lorna. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, but how did you know?”
“A voice, a woman’s voice, I think, woke me from a sound sleep. I don’t remember the exact words just that you were in grave danger. So I rousted the security teams. While they searched, I came here.” He cut her bindings. “I suppose being an ESP research candidate has to count for something.”
Rubbing the circulation back into her wrists, the ramifications of Ethan’s explanation dawned on her. Did the rickety and inconsistent link between Cithara’s world and here somehow permit connection with Ethan? During the session in Doctor Montana’s office, she said he had potential for a breakthrough.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next morning, Ed received the news about Bobby’s betrayal, while the medical staff processed Clarisse’s body.
“Where is he now?” asked the rubicund head in the monitor.
“We have him in an isolation laboratory under guard,” Ethan answered.
“I’ll want to speak with him later.” Ed’s image turned to Lorna. “It seems I owe you an apology. Please understand the difficulty of accepting a child’s betrayal.”
“I do.”
“Miriam and I studied all accounts of my grandparent’s experience with Aunt Cassie and did everything to learn from the experience. We encouraged Bobby to accept his nature. We treated our time with him special because there was less. His brothers understood. We believed we’d avoided the mistakes made with my aunt.”
“Your conscience should be clear. You did everything reasonable in his upbringing.”
“He said that?”
“No. I did. I know a thing or two about not fitting in. Everyone bent over backward to make the best of a situation that was impossible to change. He had no appreciation for anyone’s efforts.”
“You’re right, of course.”
To see Ed so crestfallen devastated Lorna. This once proud, confident giant of a man seemed to be staggering, like a punch-drunk boxer. Even if he dumped her for the blonde hussy, she’d miss him dearly. There might be other men in her future, even marriage and children, but after Ed, anyone she allowed to enter her heart would be a compromise. “We need to get back on track. There’s a cure for this, and we can find it.”
“Is that your priestess speaking?” he asked wearily.
“Both of us, actually. Now, rally the troops on your end, while Ethan and I do our job here.”
Ed straightened up to a posture that passed for attention. “Aye-aye, Captain,” he said with a casual salute, showing the first real smile she’d seen cross his face in weeks.
Ed and Bobby had their private conversation. Ed never shared the details, not even with his other sons. Local authorities agreed to let Bobby, now charged with Clarisse’s murder, stay in quarantine, rather than risk spreading the virus by transporting him to jail.
The next night, Lorna came down with a spate of nausea, one of the early symptoms of the virus. The old apprehension she cast aside since reconciling with her parents ratcheted up a return off the slow coiling in her chest. For a second, she panicked, but then took a deep breath.
I can face this. You will rule me no longer. Be gone.
The anxiety retreated like a wild beast being coaxed away from the village with torches. Nodding at her image looking back from the mirror across the room, she accepted the victory she’d won over herself.
“Infirmary,” the tired voice said. Lorna could relate to the sound of fatigue. She knew all about morning shift.
“This is Lorna Winters. I’m coming down to be screened.”
“Symptoms?” inquired the suddenly alert voice on the other end.
“Mostly nausea.”
“Any fever or soreness?”
“No, just the nausea.”
The nurse paused, before answering. “We’ll be ready when you arrive.” Lorna understood the confusion in her voice. Even with a layman’s knowledge of the virus, her symptoms didn’t quite fit.
Lorna sat on a padded examination table wrapped in a green gown that, unless she took care, let her backside hang out. Upon arrival, the staff hustled her into a closed room. After she stripped and took a disinfecting shower, a nurse recorded vitals, insisting she repeat the symptoms. A second nurse arrived later, asking the same questions.
“Are you trying to catch me in a lie?” Lorna asked, half kidding.
“No, ma’am,” the interviewer replied, as if the integrity of the whole medical data gathering system had been impeached. “We need to know every detail of your symptoms. Things you may have forgotten in the earlier intake.”
“God as my witness, nausea is it.”
The doctor arrived, bundled in a face mask because she was a vampire. Curls of dirty blonde hair peeked out around the green surgeon’s cap. A pair of brown eyes observed the world from above the mask. “What do we have here?” She began reading the intake forms.
Attempting to avoid another medical interrogation, Lorna spoke up. “No fever. No chills. Nausea. That’s all. I swear.”
“I see,” the doctor said. “Your blood work looks fine. I want to do just one more thing.”
An hour later Lorna walked back to her apartment in shock. Pregnant? Now what am I going to do?
/> Nostalgic thoughts of the good old days at OPD returned. Her worst problems were the cases, all situations involving other people. No matter how things ended, they never affected her. Now she was pregnant, and a constant threat of impending death dominated whatever life remained. In the improbable event she survived this mess, what then?
The government abortion clinics on Trade Port seemed the best option. The incentive of generous child support couldn’t offset the downside of motherhood. The prospect of spending the next eighty years listening to a bunch of hybrid angst held no appeal. Moreover, if one of them resembled Ed, the child would mock and torment her for the rest of its life. No, Trade Port provided the best option. Ed must never know.
“We have a problem,” Ethan confided three days later. It was noon time. They spoke on the inter-office communication system, less convenient than cell phones but more secure.
“What could make the situation here worse?” Lorna asked. Dark humor seemed appropriate.
“Bobby has escaped the compound.”
“Oh my God. He’s contagious.”
“Yes, and determined to destroy all of our kind on Earth.”
“How?”
“We’re not sure, but he had help from someone inside.”
Lorna turned the faces of possible suspects over in her mind.
“Does Ed—your father—know?”
“Yes, I briefed him myself. His orders are to take Bobby alive.”
“We need to find him first. Otherwise, he’ll inoculate the world within—what did the report say—six months?”
“Yes, six months,” Ethan said. “Six months to the end of us on Earth.”
“Not if we have any option or hope left,” Lorna said. “We might go down, but we’ll fight this until they pull a sheet over the last one of us.”
