Light Play: Book One of The Light Play Trilogy

by N. D. Hansen-Hill

Ainsley ignored him. “First order of business is to find Misters Vizar and Sacchara.”

  “Good luck,” Cole told them sarcastically. “By the way, I'm not leaving. I have business upstairs. Friends of mine.” He shook his head to clear it, then tried to sit up.

  “Calloway, don't!” Rodrigal told him.

  Ainsley nodded to Colby. But, he still flinched when Colby brought the butt of his gun down across the back of Calloway's head. Cole collapsed like a limp doll.

  “Good-bye, Mr. Calloway,” Ainsley said. “I wish you the best of luck, too. Take him down to the ambulance,” he told Colby. He gave an involuntary smile. “Tie him to the gurney, if you have to.”

  * * * *

  “How bad are your legs?” Jason asked Rutgers quietly.

  “I don't know. I'm more worried about my contact with her.”

  Jason quoted, “'A few molecules is all it takes’. Something a friend of mine once said,” he explained, looking at Rick.

  “We have more of Rick's antibodies stored upstairs,” Rutgers said. “As soon as this is over—”

  “I'll make sure you get some of it. Don't worry,” Jace assured him.

  Simon couldn't recall ever having seen Rick looking so bad. His skin had gone a weird yellow colour, and at times it seemed he'd stopped breathing entirely. He knew that's what was bothering Jason, and why he was staying so close to Rick's side.

  When this was over, Simon was sure Steven Hylton had his own plans for Richard Lockmann. They might well include removing him to a “safe” location, where Rick would be kept as a prisoner, while they studied him. It was the logical thing to do, and Steven Hylton was always logical.

  Simon wasn't about to let that happen. Rick had a life to return to—a life he enjoyed. Simon considered it, and smiled. It wasn't for everyone, but Dr. Richard Lockmann was the only man he knew who could get enthusiastic about fungus. And Rick needed a focus for his brain. So that his keen intellect could work on the problem, while the rest of him acted halfway normal. No—if Rick didn't have his little fungi and viruses to play with, he'd probably drive himself, and everyone else, crazy.

  He mentally superimposed the image of Rick—as he was now—over that of Rick the way he was before. There were definitely going to be some problems. The biggest one involved the changes to his body: he'd need careful monitoring if he was going to survive. Careful monitoring and—Simon glanced at Steven Hylton—some kind of bodyguard. He was just too damned valuable an object for study.

  The logical thing, in Simon's mind, was for Jace to watch out for him medically, and himself—Simon—to act as bodyguard. There would be problems, of course, and the biggest ones would be the objections from Dr. Richard Lockmann. He'd once given Simon the same line he'd given Cole: “One of the reasons we stay friends is because we don't stick our noses into each others’ business.” At the time he was reassuring Simon that he wouldn't pry, no matter what secrets he confided. Simon knew, however, that Rick didn't want him or Jace watching him, and worrying about him. It would take away from their friendship. The only reason he'd put up with it till now was because he'd been too damn sick to do much more than make a feeble objection.

  Finlay interrupted his musings with a “Wait'll you see this, Simon. You won't believe it.” Finlay was referring to the startling effect the lamps had on Lockmann, the last time they'd done this, up in the lab. “I'd sit under a sunlamp all day, if it'd do this to me.”

  But, when they turned the lights on, Simon's eyes were on Denaro, and he gave an involuntary gasp. The dim emergency lighting in the corridor had failed to fully reveal Caroline Denaro “in the flesh". Simon took one look and almost asked them to turn the lights back off.

  It was at once piteous, and gruesome. Denaro's tortured flesh had been conscripted into patterns human cells were never meant to go, and the distortion made her seem far more vulnerable than Simon had expected. Considering her viciousness, he'd never expected to feel this degree of pity for her. How would she have felt, seeing her body deteriorate—watching it become this Thing? The pain she must have endured would have been enough to drive most people crazy.

  The other people in the hallway experienced similar emotions, each in his own way. None of them could look at the ruin of a human form and remain unmoved. Especially when there was still a chance that any or all of them could end up in a similar state if they failed. It was a sobering thought.

  Jason's eyes, like Simon's, had been so intent on Denaro, that it took a flicker of movement to draw his attention back to Rick again. What he saw then, stunned him.

  The wash of colour had begun. Spreading from the “hot spot” apex of the light, the warm brown wave was sweeping across Rick's skin, changing it from a sallow yellow to a rich brown. Jason took his pulse, and nodded to Simon. It was much stronger than it had been.

  “Under ordinary circumstances this isn't a good idea,” Phillip Rutgers whispered. “He's lost a lot of body mass, but I think it's because he's had no time to recuperate. When you get him out of here, make sure you put him on some sort of cycle, so he has enough dark time to rest and recover. Otherwise, he'll just waste away.”

  “Will do.” Rutgers seemed to think they'd make it out of here. The thought made Jason feel more confident.

  The lights were on for a full ten minutes before Rick twitched again. “It's taking a lot longer than before,” Rutgers muttered.

  “Wasn't Cole supposed to come back up, Simon?” Jace asked. “I hope he didn't pass out on the stairs again.”

  Simon looked concerned. “Maybe I should go look for him.”

  “That won't be necessary,” a voice said from behind them. “Mr. Calloway had a little trouble following orders. He's now in the hospital with a concussion. Would anyone care to join him?” Derek Ainsley asked. He whistled, and fifteen armed bodies came around the corner.

  * * * *

  “Lumpy turtle, long tongue,” Jeller muttered at Ainsley's back. “Calloway wasn't far wrong.”

  Ainsley didn't say anything. He was still trying to take in this latest product of Genetechnic's research. Could this really be Caroline Denaro?

  Simon was close enough to hear Jeller's words. He wished now that he'd gone downstairs with Cole. As it turned out, Jace hadn't really needed him, but he might have been able to influence the outcome of Cole's encounter with Ainsley.

  Simon couldn't imagine Cole attacking the Genetechnic people, which made the attack on him—in Simon's mind—unprovoked. Cole might be safer where he was now, but the end didn't justify the means. Simon vowed to keep a careful watch over Jason and Rick. Jace, because although he had experience with patching up the aftermath of violence, Simon was certain he'd have trouble dealing with the violence itself. Rick, because he wasn't in any shape to defend himself.

  * * * *

  Richard Lockmann had experienced a few isolated twitches and muscle contractions. Now, his entire body began to move restlessly. He shifted uneasily, then moaned in his restlessness. Jason saw him clutch his middle and curl up, almost in a foetal position.

  It was another few minutes before he awoke fully. He went so still, that Jace was momentarily concerned, until he suddenly opened his eyes. “Water—” he begged.

  “It's not advisable,” Jason whispered to Rutgers, referring to Rick's abdominal wounds.

  “If he asks for it,” Phillip warned him, “it means he needs it. As in STAT.”

  “I'm getting him a drink,” Jason told Ainsley.

  Ainsley nodded to Colby, who punched in a code number on a nearby door. “Cups are in the cabinet to your left,” he said.

  In the first moments of his awakening, Derek Ainsley had seen their patient's eyes. Whatever was wrong with the man, it was beyond Ainsley's experience. As was the other Thing lying on the floor. If Cole and the man Rodrigal were right, this was Caroline Denaro. It was hard to compare her with a human being, let alone the woman she used to be.

  It seemed like everyone was looking at the crystal-eyed guy—the one who stil
l looked passably human. So, Derek Ainsley was the only one who saw Denaro twitch. Involuntarily, he took a step back.

  * * * *

  It was the answering twitch in the hall way that had Steven Hylton concerned. The writhing, near-convulsive movement that he would recognise in his nightmares for the rest of his life. The counterpart to that tumorous mass on the floor. The Ms. Hyde who'd attacked a group of fully-armed individuals and come off the victor. Steven Hylton hoped her presence was an indicator that Lockmann's plan was working. But the only way to find out was to let her come.

  Steven Hylton spoke up for the first time since Ainsley had arrived. He kept his voice calm, but, nevertheless, it carried a warning. “We have company,” he said. “If you value your life, whatever you do—don't shoot.”

  * * * *

  Rick gulped the water, and almost instantly felt his gorge rise. Jace supported him while he fought down the urge, and didn't relinquish his hold until Rick finally nodded. “Thanks.”

  “More?” Jason asked.

  “Later. Denaro's here,” he whispered.

  Just then, Steven Hylton's warning echoed in their ears.

  Rick kept his eyes locked on Denaro's advancing form, his hand unconsciously rubbing his abdomen, where she'd ripped into him a short time before.

  The phantom halted, barely inside the bright pool from the grow-lights, and began to coalesce, in that way she had, revealing tattered bits of bone and flesh. Jeller wasn't the only one who turned aside and gagged.

  Most of the other times that Rick had seen her, her eyes had been either translucent parodies, or absent entirely; as though the vision she was using—in this form—made the use of her eyes obsolete. But, this time, the eyes formed, from the inside out: blood veins, nerves, white gelid eyeball, iris, dark pupil. As though the zoologist was remembering their construction and building them from scratch.

  They were beautiful eyes: bright, intelligent, sparkling, with a glint of humour and the glimmer of good health. Rick didn't know if Caroline's eyes had ever really been like that, or if she was just portraying herself as she wished to be. It didn't matter. What Rick recognised was the energy she was expending to portray herself as human, with eyes that expressed both vulnerability and pain.

  “She's unstable,” Jace reminded him, and Rick saw the slight darkening of the image, as Caroline reacted to Jason's words. There was a flicker of something else there, too—a flash of white-hot anger, that was quickly suppressed, but had already given her away.

  Don't be fooled, Rick. Jason's right. The sensation of horror in their little crowd had been overlaid by pity. Surely, no one could annihilate someone who looked at them so pleadingly. Who was making such an effort to appear human.

  Rick wanted to believe the best of her. But, the intelligence mirrored in those eyes was one part, at least, that was no illusion. Caroline Denaro knew how hard it would be for anyone—especially those people who knew her—who used to see her everyday—to shoot someone who was so obviously suffering. Rick had the sudden suspicion they were being manipulated.

  Bring them in close. Take them off-guard. The eyes were looking directly at him now, and he saw something in them he hadn't seen before: a gleam of malevolence.

  Am I wrong? he thought, slightly ashamed. He'd never been that great a judge of people.

  But he and Denaro had shared a common suffering—and now a common gene pool. He'd been through much of what she had, but he'd had the support of friends, and a protective ignorance, which had kept him sane. Caroline must have seen the deterioration in her test rats, and then in herself. From the beginning, she'd probably assumed that she, like the rats, would have to be destroyed. A soul-destroying experience. In more ways than one.

  The antibodies in Rick's blood were acting on her body—the effects enhanced by her body's response to the light. This phantom part of her was being drawn back in, like a fish on line. Only, unlike the old Caroline, who'd wanted only to be put back in one piece, this Caroline was resisting their attempts to control her—because it meant the end of her attempts to destroy them. It was already too late for her to resist, however. As her spectral image turned his way, so did the lumpy body that lay upon the floor. They were slightly out-of-sync, but nevertheless, the connection was there.

  She was going to act. What Rick couldn't sense in the fake-eyed phantom, he could see in the tensing muscles of the body on the floor. This was Caroline Denaro's last stand, and she was going to take as many of these people with her as she could.

  Richard Lockmann decided to act first.

  * * * *

  Dr. Sheryl Matthews was asleep when the call came in. “Matthews,” she said sleepily.

  “Dr. Matthews, we've had two people brought in to Emergency. One claims he was working on a project for the DSO, and that any of their people coming in should be quarantined. Dr. Parker asked me to phone you. He says you might be familiar with the case—?”

  Sheryl sighed. No more sleep tonight. “Is Dr. Stratton with them?”

  “Not that I've heard.”

  That meant Jason was still out on whatever crusade he'd embarked on. Judging from the fact they were getting people into Emergency, it wasn't going too well. “I'll be right there,” she said.

  * * * *

  Rick stood up, in a swift fluid movement, and shrugged off Jason's restraining hands. “Get out of my way,” he told Jace nastily.

  It had the effect he intended. Jason was taken aback. “What?” he said.

  “Keep him out of my hair, Hylton,” he ordered. "I mean it."

  Hylton waved to Geraldo, but Simon interrupted. “I'll handle it,” he said. He gripped Jason's arm and pulled him back, out of the way.

  “Simon, I—” Jason started to argue, but the expression on Simon's face stopped him.

  “Rick needs to be able to act—without either of us slowing him down,” he whispered.

  Ainsley watched Richard Lockmann warily. It had just occurred to him what a formidable enemy he might make. There was something a little too sure and swift about his movements, that reminded Derek of a snake. His hand fingered his gun for reassurance.

  It wasn't Lockmann he should have been watching. Instead of the harmless garter snake, he should have been watching the one with fangs.

  * * * *

  “Does the name Jason Stratton mean anything to you?”

  Rodrigal shook his head. “No.”

  Sheryl Matthews checked her list. “Richard Lockmann or Simon Kerrington?”

  “Kerrington's DSO. The last time I saw Lockmann he was playing Superman.”

  Matthews looked surprised. “He's recovered?”

  Rodrigal raised his eyebrows and gave her a wry smile. “You'd be amazed.”

  * * * *

  She struck. Denaro had already learned that it didn't take a dose of venom to kill her prey: it was just as effective to reach inside and rip them apart.

  Allen Colby never had a chance. His eyes had been on the body. Its noise, its heavy movements—that's where he thought the hazard lay. He was wrong. He was on the ground and dying before he could even raise his gun.

  Caroline spun, her hands extended like knives. She snarled in frustration, because her beckoning body acted like an anchor, limiting her movements and weighing her down. Again and again she slashed out, cutting cloth and skin in gashing fluid motions.

  "Stop it!" Rick screamed. He straddled her body, fighting the movements that mimicked those of the Other—stopping her at the source. As she reached out to slice at Phillip Rutgers, Richard Lockmann forced her arms down across her chest, and pinned them there with his own body. Chest to chest, the two of them rolled across the floor.

  She was horrendously strong. Rick didn't know how long he could hold on—he only knew he had to. Hold her until her split person could be made whole once again. He reached behind her and locked his hands together.

  His face was buried in those sour, rancid-smelling folds of tumorous tissue that now made up most of Caroline Denaro's
flesh. For the first time he was glad that for him, breathing wasn't that much of a requirement.

  "Rick!" he heard Jason yell, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't afford the time or the concentration to explain. In his peripheral, he saw Simon move in, and he booted out at him. "Stay back!" he yelled. "I'm the only one—!"

  He didn't finish, but Simon didn't have to ask him what he meant. Rick was the only one who could touch her without dying.

  * * * *

  There was a gasp, and Simon turned to see what the others had seen. Denaro's shade was screaming, but no sound came from her open mouth. Instead, a pained and garbled screech of anger was issuing from what was left of the vocal cords in the neck of her body. The phantom Caroline was flickering—its substance coming and going. It was also moving—toward the pinned wreck of her body.

  As the others watched helplessly, Caroline was drawn backwards, writhing in frustration. Her arms had ceased to exist—they were sealed into the nebulous shadow that comprised her phantom form.

  It was Jace who held Simon back now, as the shadow Denaro drew ever closer to Rick. “Hang on just a few seconds more, Rick,” Jason told him with a shaking voice. “It won't be long—” There were tears streaming down his face.

  Simon was filled with a cold horror that came close—but could never really match—what Rick was to feel in the next moment. Denaro's phantom—with one last silent protest—was drawn into and through Rick's body. He arched his back and screamed—his shriek filling the silent void that made up the tumorous mouth.

  But, still, he didn't release her. He forced his eyes to open against light that suddenly seemed abnormally dark. As he did, he had a close-up view of what Sy Morgan had seen: the weird image of a dark soul being sucked down into Denaro's body, like so much water down a drain.

  “It's done,” he yelled to the others, not realising that his yell was little more than a gasp. He let his arms relax.

  As Denaro—maddened and frothing at the mouth—flung him from her, the last sounds he heard were the echoed reports of a dozen guns.

  * * * *

  Richard Lockmann's memories were only cloudy then.