by B. C. CHASE
Greenery sped by as the gondola emerged from the building. Soaring by the second peak and down a foliage-covered ridge, they moved at the same speed going downhill as they had coming up. The green steel beams that supported the rails above were so high that the coach was above the trees most of the time. Ahead, on a sandy coastline isolated by two forested ridges was a sleek, angular glass tower that stepped up to a sharp, tall spire. The design was inspiring, as if the building itself was reaching for the sky. The voice spoke, "The building you see ahead is The StarLine Paradeisia Hotel. Paradeisia's flagship resort, it is one of the largest and tallest hotels in the world, rising to a height of 1,776 feet. The StarLine Paradeisia Hotel also boasts the largest pool and the most valuable room on earth, the Presidential StarSuite.”
The gondola moved over the forest to the colossal building. As the track dipped through openings in the walls, Aubrey gawked up with starry eyes, amazed. Inside, an open atrium rose from the ground floor to the glass roof above. Glass balustrades from each of the 130 floors half-circled the open space. Transparent elevators serviced every floor on either side of a glass wall that rose from the floor to the roof, providing a view of the perfect turquoise water at the beach outside.
The gondola followed the rails behind a waterfall that was surging from the tenth floor balcony into a crystalline pond below. The floor of the lobby was planted with a veritable forest of tropical flora, offset by marble walkways and seating areas. The water from the waterfall followed a meandering route through the lobby under several bridges until it collected in a shell shaped pool edged by beach chairs and a bar. The waterway continued from there to the outdoors where there were waterslides.
Henry shot Jinkins an unhappy glance, then shook his head and said, “I'm not even going to ask how much this cost.”
“Developers, my dear Mr. Potter! The developers shoulder the heaviest cost.”
Lady Shrewsbury said somewhat pathetically, “And yet all our money is gone.”
The now-familiar voice encouraged the guests to exit carefully and enjoy a pleasant stay at The StarLine Paradeisia Hotel as the gondola stopped.
As they disembarked, Jinkins explained, “Now I realize Mr. Potter is heading to China, but those of you not joining him will be staying here. Luggage is sorted and delivered to the rooms of all guests automatically, whether they arrive by cruise or air. The perimeter FlyRail track, Elephant Express, services every hotel on the island. Luggage is scanned and loaded onto cargo gondolas at the transit points. Amazing isn't it?”
“Expensive, wasn't it?” Henry said, looking like he was about to blow a fuse.
Suddenly, a yapping chirp echoed in the atrium, and when Aubrey looked over she saw a woman cradling a small, brown creature with the face of a Chihuahua—except for small round ears—and the body of a monkey. It jumped down to bound for Jinkins. Its stance was like a gorilla's; hopping on its knuckles, though it was no larger than a kitten. Jinkins knelt down to receive it as it leaped onto his neck. It lathered his face with licks and he laughed, “Now, now, Lucy! Now, now!”
Henry, his expression disgusted, asked, “What, may I ask, is that?”
“It's a—now now Lucy—it's a kinkajou. They're from Central America. They make the most wonderful pets,” Jinkins said jovially. “If you'd like I could have one procured for you, Mr.—” then he frowned as the creature had clamped down on his thumb with its little teeth. “No biting, Lucy,” Jinkins scolded. The creature furrowed its little brows as it tightened its jaws, grappling with Jinkins' entire arm as if in a death-match. “Now, now, Lucy!” Jinkins said as he struggled with the little beast. “They do like to fight,” he explained.
A man in a white shirt and slacks stepped forward with a tray of freshly cut fruit on toothpicks. Jinkins took a pineapple and offered it to the creature, which greedily gripped it with both hands and bit into it. As it munched voraciously, it stared at Henry as if sizing him up as a potential opponent. The man with the tray offered fruit to everyone else as Jinkins said, “I was saying, Mr. Potter, that I could have one procured for you, if you'd like. They do make wonderful pets.”
“No, no. That won't be necessary,” Henry said, watching impatiently as the creature finished the fruit and grew restless, eagerly searching for more by crawling all over Jinkins.
Henry looked Jinkins in the eye, “Well, it's been an interesting tour, but I'm sad to say the fun is over and the tough choices now begin.” Then he cleared his throat and said, “From this moment on, Jinkins, you are here as a subject matter expert only. This means that if I ask you a question, I expect an answer. If you don't have an answer, either find one or find new employment. Is this clear?”
Jinkins' face had gone from bright to overcast in seconds. Even his kinkajou sensed the mood change and stared at Henry in total quiet. “Well, Mr. Potter, I thought that—“
Henry interrupted, “Whatever you thought was wrong. 'Build it and they will come' is one of the most idiotic ideas conceived by man. But I see here you've employed it to its full disastrous potential. So unless you have the fountain of youth here, a new modus operandi is required. That is why I'm here—to save you from complete and total ruin, and the sooner you come to grips with that, the better.”
When Jinkins stood there in bruised horror, Henry cajoled, “Look, man. Frankly I'm making you a generous offer by allowing you to stay on, so either accept it with dignity, or get the hell out of my way.”
Jinkins looked sadly to Lady Shrewsbury for support, but she said, “I am very sorry, my dear Ignatius. But Mr. Potter would only help us with the understanding that he was the law. This is going to be a difficult change for all of us, I'm afraid.” She turned to Henry, “But that does not give you the right to engage in rude and seditious behavior! It would behoove you to find a more diplomatic modus operandi for yourself, Mr. Potter.”
Unmoved, Henry said to Jinkins, “My offer remains. Will you stay on with us?”
His face filled with sorrow, he stroked his pet's head several times and then said, “I couldn't leave Paradeisia, Mr. Potter.” It sounded like he was speaking about a child rather than an island.
“Very good,” Henry said. “The first thing I must insist upon is that you put your animal away. The next is that you take us down the shaft.”
“Portal,” Jinkins corrected.
“And the third is that you produce these mythical balance sheets of yours.”
And with that, the kinkajou leaped down to the floor and furiously attacked Henry.
St. Joseph's Hospital
Doctor Kingsley, still wearing his mask, said sadly, “I'm very sorry, John. I know Sarah was special to you.” At that moment, two police officers with masks approached.
“Doctor Kingsley? Doctor Richard Kingsley?” one of them asked.
“Not now,” Doctor Kingsley said, holding a hand up.
“Sir, this is very important.”
“In a moment,” he said tersely. The officers nervously backed away.
Doctor Kingsley turned back to all the other physicians who had been trying to save Sarah. They were zipping her body into a bag. The same kind of bags Doctor Burwell opened every day.
Doctor Burwell backed away from the scene and turned around. Slowly, in a daze, he walked through the curtains and out of the area.
When they were done bagging the body, Doctor Kingsley turned around to look for Doctor Burwell. But he was gone.
Doctor Kingsley was stripping off his gloves when his cell phone rang. At that moment, the officers once again approached him, but he held up a hand to take the call. It was his mother-in-law.
“I've been trying to reach you all day but the lines are busy. I'm so sorry.”
“Yes, there's a lot going on with this virus.”
Her voice was serious, “Rick . . . I'm so sorry. Martha is dead.”
He looked up at the officers. In disbelief he said into his phone, “I'm sorry I didn't hear you. What did you say?”
“It's Martha. She'
s passed away, Rick.”
In a daze, he lowered the phone to his side and asked the officers, “Are you here to tell me about my wife?”
One of them looked down at his feet while the other nodded, saying, “She showed the symptoms an hour ago and passed away before they could reach the hospital.”
“Where is she?” Doctor Kingsley asked.
One of the officers nodded down the hallway, where a gurney was being wheeled by two people in scrubs.
Doctor Kingsley left the room. He took steps down the hallway, meeting the gurney. He uncovered the body.
Blood was at the corner of his wife's mouth, her sickly yellow eyes open in a gaping stare. Her lips were pale, almost white.
Without a word, he turned around and walked farther down the hall, through a door, down the stairs. He stepped out of the ground floor door and went straight to his Aston Martin. He hated to see it now.
He opened his car door and started the engine.
Leave. He was going to leave this place.
94 Golfpointe Road
QUARANTINE
CONTAGIOUS DISEASE
NO ONE SHALL ENTER OR LEAVE THIS PREMESIS WITHOUT THE PROPER DOCUMENTATION ISSUED BY THE CENTERS FOR DISEASE CONTROL AND PREVENTION. (USC 42 PART G)
NO PERSON EXCEPT AN AUTHORIZED AGENT OR EMPLOYEE OF THE CENTERS FOR DISEASE CONTROL AND PREVENTION SHALL ALTER OR REMOVE THIS SIGN. (USC 42 PART G)
ANYONE VIOLATING THIS REGULATION WILL BE SUBJECT TO A FINE OF NO MORE THAN $1,000 OR BY IMPRISONMENT FOR NOT MORE THAN ONE YEAR, OR BOTH. (USC 42 PART G § 271)
That's what was printed on the orange signs posted all over the lawn and taped to the majestic white colonial on Golfpointe Road. Cordoning off the lawn was caution tape, and as if that wasn't enough, someone had painted gigantic red X's on the grass. Media trucks were all over the road, and police cruisers were parked at the curb. Camera crews with over-made-up reporters were everywhere, jockeying for the best view of the house. And the policemen were milling around, bored to death or posing for the cameras.
Wesley Peterson and his mother, Cynthia, stood by an upstairs window looking down at the scene.
Cynthia was shaking her head, “I'm not blaming you, of course, but is all this really necessary? Those police are just standing there like homeless people. Susan will never let me live this down.” She put her hands out, “I mean look what they've done to the lawn! And all the tape?”
“It's the government, mom. If they can find an excuse for tape, they'll use it,” he said. He knew his mother was not really this pretentious. He suspected she was really griping only to downplay the gravity of the situation.
“Our home used to be the pride of the neighborhood. Now it’s the spectacle of the neighborhood!”
“As soon as my test results come back negative, they'll take this all away.”
A silver car suddenly pulled up as close as it could get to the house. A man in jeans and a leather jacket emerged and stood with a phone to his ear.
Wesley's phone rang. He answered it, “Hello?”
It was the man outside speaking: “This is Special Agent Jarred Kessler with the FBI. I need to talk with you.”
Wesley's heart jumped, “Great. What's up?”
Jarred’s response surprised Wesley: “Have you received any request for ransom?”
“Uh, no. Why?”
“Good. I'd like to speak with you in person. Does this place have a back door?”
“Yes.”
“Meet me there.”
“You know we're under quarantine,” Wesley said.
“Yeah, I know. I'll see you at the back.”
Jarred was standing on the large wood patio off the sliding doors at the rear of the house, just as he had promised. Wesley opened the door and said, “I won’t shake your hand. Don't want to transmit anything, just in case.”
Jarred ignored him, grasping his hand firmly, “I’m not afraid. Seems most men our age are immune.”
Wesley led him into the formal living room where they took seats. His mother went off to the kitchen to “get drinks,” though he knew she'd be listening closely.
Jarred said, “You probably know I'm not the agent assigned to your case.”
“Yes. The last time I heard from him was when I reported it. He didn't sound very interested.”
Jarred nodded knowingly, “Ah. Well, I don't want to disappoint you, but I'm not here about your case.”
“No?” Wesley couldn't hide the fact that he was disappointed.
“No. But I thought you might have some information that could be helpful to me.”
“Okay.”
“Now, you've said that your wife was pregnant, and then she wasn't, and that the baby had disappeared. Into thin air.”
“Yes.”
“What do you think happened to it?” Jarred pulled his cell out of his pocket.
Wesley hesitated. “Well, I guess I think someone took him.”
“So here's your challenge:” Jarred accented his words with his hands, “What did your unborn baby have that a kidnapper would have wanted? Every criminal has a reason for what he does.”
Suddenly there was a crash and a cry from the kitchen. Wesley leaped up, shouting, “Mom? Are you all right in there?”
His mother cried back, her voice agonized, “Wesley! Help!”
Wesley and Jarred dashed toward the plea. When they went through the doorway, they saw Cynthia laying on the floor, shattered glass and ice cubes catching the light all around her.
CDC
Doctor Compton walked down the fluorescent-lit hallway, Doctor Guy Giordano at his side wringing his ball-cap in his hands.
Most of the other PhD's at the facility wore lab coats, but Doctor Giordano hated what he saw as pompous bunk. Either you had it or you didn't, and a lab coat didn't prove anything. Doctor Giordano wore what he'd always worn growing up in his home city: a button-up black shirt, jeans, a chain with a crucifix, and a Philadelphia Phillies baseball cap.
Guy said, “Are you sure I should be at this meeting? I don't wanna piss her off again.”
“Don't worry about Karen. I have you here for a reason. If you have something to say, say it.”
Doctor Giordano snorted with a smile, “So I'm your fall guy.”
“You got it,” Doctor Compton said. Suddenly, his phone rang. Looking at the ID, he said “Speak of the devil.” He answered, “I'm afraid it's bad news, Karen. Very bad.”
“Shoot.”
“Three new deaths matching the symptoms, and one new case. The new case came from a house we already had quarantined. The cadavers of the other three are being brought to our lab.”
“Please tell me they were all in Towson.”
“Yes, except for the new case. But like I said that house was already quarantined and there's almost zero risk of transmission from there.”
“Quarantine Towson. We have the authority now.”
“Already in motion.”
“And what's the word on the virus symptoms? Any way to contain it?”
“When you get to the meeting we'll tell you what we know.”
Kinglsey
Doctor Kingsley had stopped at the convenience store and picked up some bottles of something strong. He drove out to the woods by the Loch Raven Reservoir and drank all of them. Then he slipped back into his car and, without buckling his seat belt, floored the gas, pulling onto Route 146. He swerved along the road, passing the acres of wild woodland on either side until he sped onto the Dulaney Valley Road Bridge.
There, against the white backdrop of snow-covered trees, the silhouette of a man stepped from the bridge guardrail into the road. With eyes that were ghost-white, he looked at Doctor Kingsley and raised his arm out towards him.
Doctor Kingsley swerved just as the bumper struck the man, throwing his body toward the windshield. As if in slow motion, Doctor Kingsley saw the head hit the wiper well and the arms flail as the body cascaded off the left side of the windshield. But at the same instant, he f
elt the right side of his car lifting wildly into the air.
The car flipped up to jolt over the top of the rail and plunge into the frigid water far below. As the water boiled up all around him, chilling him to the bone he did nothing to try to escape. Doctor Kingsley did not even unbuckle his seat belt. He simply closed his eyes and prayed,
“Hail Mary, full of grace.
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for me a sinner,
now at the hour of my death.”
China Academy of Sciences
It took two days, but finally the head of the Academy of Sciences called Doctor Ming-Zhen back to his office. When he arrived, his superior motioned to a chair, “Tell me how the platypus has anything to do with dinosaurs.”
“The platypus is local to Australia. That much, I'm sure you know.”
Zhang grunted.
“It has the eggs of a reptile, the bill of a duck, the tail of a beaver, the feet of an otter, the fur of a mole, the eyes of a lamprey—that's a blood-sucking fish considered to be extremely primitive—the sex chromosomes of a bird, and a cocktail of venom that includes three proteins all its own. It has mammary glands and produces milk, but is lacking teats so the milk seeps out of its skin and pools in crevices for it's young to lap up. They wouldn't be able to suck on teats since they have bills.”
Doctor Ming-Zhen explained that the creature had so many aspects derived from so many different animals that when the English discoverers sent a pelt back to Europe in 1798, it was thought that somebody had sewn the duck beak on as a hoax—they even checked for the stitches.
“But of course no one had sewn on a duck beak. The platypus, as it turns out, derives its DNA from a menagerie of creatures. When its genome was fully decoded, it was found to be only 80% mammalian, and had genes found previously only in reptilian, bird, amphibian, and fish DNA.”
