Maggie studied him evenly.
“Don’t remember. But then I wouldn’t, would I?”
Justin led them both into the room. While Maggie gawped at the wall-to-wall metal hangings, R.D. dragged his hesitant friend to one side.
“I brought you a pressie.” He produced the tartan holdall from behind his back.
“It aint!”
“It is.”
Justin leaned, overcome, on a torn and rusting fridge while R.D. unzipped the bag and hauled out the AID. He held up the little metal prongs and shook them daintily in front of the scientist’s astonished face.
“Here we go,” he announced proudly. “The Massey-Fergusson double camshaft whiskerpuss twizbee.”
The disappointment on his old partner’s face was painful to behold.
“This is what you brought me? I thought it would be… smaller.”
On the other side of the room Maggie picked up his resentful tone and marched over.
“It may not look like much but it’ll do the trick,” she said coldly. “Sorry if it isn’t in your preferred colour. I do have a day job, you know.”
“Aye,” R.D. chipped in. “She’s a domestic.”
He handed the device to Maggie, who embraced it as if it were an unjustly reprimanded pet.
“OK, Mr. Moore,” she announced in a business-like manner. “This is an Anti-Inductance Device... an AID to you and me. It’ll generate an electromagnetic field, like you asked. At the moment, as you may have noticed, it’s a bit conspicuous.”
Justin gave a terse smile.
“But, if it does what it’s supposed to do I’ll go ahead and refine it. It’s only coils and boosters after all.” She held the device out like a crown. “Let’s put it on your head and try it out.”
“Right now?”
“Right now. We’re all here aint we?”
“I didn’t expect this, huh?” Justin blinked nervously. “Not so sudden.”
“Men! You won’t do anything unless y’all are pushed.”
“Go on Justin,” the psychologist urged, enjoying Maggie’s mastery of the situation. “Take it for a test drive.”
“If what you told R.D. is true, Justin Moore, you’re racing against the clock. I don’t see a need to delay.”
“Wouldn’t you like an iced tea first or somethin?”
“We’ll have one after this, either to celebrate or drown our sorrows.”
“You sure it’s safe?”
“I’m sure. It even has an adjustable frequency, so we can find the right one.”
“O.K. we’ll try it,” sighed Justin, submitting to superior firepower. “Let’s get this thing on me before we all forget what we’re here for.”
R.D. clipped the power pack of the AID to the researcher’s belt and he bowed his neck like an errant knight, allowing Maggie to step forward and fit the prongs properly.
“It feels pretty comfortable.” The AID’s headphones settled snugly on Justin’s head, merging into his thick black hair.
“Swell, this fits fine,” Maggie smiled. “R.D. wouldn’t put it on again in case it mussed up his hair. There!”
Justin stood up.
“One Mork from Ork crack, Scotty an you get a mouth full of class ring.”
“OK, you look a bit odd.” Maggie patted the headgear affectionately. “You’ll be a big hit at Comic Com.”
“The Great Justy-Pooh!” R.D. chimed in. “You can paint your face silver and do the moonwalk.”
“Can the double act, huh guys?” Justin raised a pleading hand.
“Sure, sure. Sorry. Here’s what we’ll do.” Maggie took a deep breath. “We turn it on... there’s a switch here... see? And you adjust the frequency with this knob. Then you let loose with your Inductance, like you did with R.D. last time he was here.”
The psychologist puckered his brow. He couldn’t properly remember the incident now, but he certainly knew it had scared the shit out of him.
If the AID isn’t effective,” Maggie continued. “You’ll disappear. But if the AID does work - and it should – then your Inductance will be blocked and we’ll still see you. Get it?”
The researcher looked resigned. Maggie bent over and checked the wiring on the casement.
“Good to go.”
R.D. felt a warm glow in his chest. This was great. Like discovering long missed but cherished toys in the bottom of a closet.
“Listen you two,” he gushed. “I don’t want to sound all poofy, but this is a truly momentous occasion. We’re going to make medical history, know that? I’m really quite proud to be here...”
“Yeah, thanks R.D.,” Justin broke in. “Maggie?”
“I’m ready.”
-49-
“What frequency will I set it at?” Maggie asked.
“That’s the thing.” Justin looked abashed. “I don’t know. I didn’t have any way of measuring what I did. I’m not even sure what I did. I just know it worked.”
“Jesus. Can you take an educated guess?”
“I’ll put it high as it will go. Fortune favours the bold, huh?”
He turned the knob on the device and switched it on.
Nothing happened. A whisper or two, perhaps, as toasters and grills swung slowly on their ferric tendrils.
“Looks like it doesn’t work on this setting,” R.D. said. “Maybe if we lower it.”
Then, a few flickerings of light passed over Justin’s face, though no source was apparent.
R.D.’s eyes narrowed. His expression turned from curiosity through wonderment and slowly to horror.
This was no light. Justin’s face itself seemed to be moving, ticking faster and faster like an out of control Tourette. It ululated in and out of perspective, distorting and twisting - a TV screen without vertical hold.
Then came a sound, reedy as a flute, whistling from the bottom of canyons in R.D.’s mind, swelling and vibrating, until the room itself seemed to shake. His eyes narrowed in fear and he grabbed at his hair. A shrieking pain blossomed in his head and pulled at the roots of his soul.
Waves of agony broke over his body, forcing him to the ground. He scuttled along the floor pounding his fists against the wooden surface. From the corner of a tearful, canting eye he caught sight of Maggie staggering backwards, clutching at empty air like a manic shopper, arms catching the dangling appliances and spinning them in crazy spirals. Her mouth was stretched wide in anguish.
The scientist’s features had become a blur. In R.D.’s tormented mind, one rational thought squeezed its way past a raw ball of pain.
He had to switch the AID off.
Sweat erupted under his collar and he hauled himself round, crawling back towards the whirling figure at the centre of his mental maelstrom.
R.D.’s body had become a broken tooth, head vibrating like a burning nerve. He inched his way forward, surfing breakers of nausea, until he reached the shivering thighs of the nightmare gyrating in front of him.
Justin’s staccato head was thrown back, strings of saliva dangling from the corners of his mouth. His clenched hands pounded drum tight sinews at the top of his legs and his flesh bubbled and boiled. In a blink, his face sagged, fat and bloated - one eye drooping - tortoiseshell glasses splashing in and out of existence.
R.D. reached up. A few more inches and he would reach the off switch. Then his heart turned to ice.
Justin was changing.
Horns sprouted from the sides of his slicked back hair and rolling discoloured irises fastened on him.
R.D. was looking into the face of Satan.
“OhJesusHolyChristAlmighty!” He jerked his hand back; absurdly aware this might not be the appropriate way to address the supreme being of evil.
Justin’s face was still broadening and blackening and the horns lengthening. R.D. screamed in terror.
He was staring at the shaggy visage of a Longhorn bull. And then it spoke.
“GET AWAY FROM ME!” The phrase was forced through misshapen, mucus coated teeth.
&n
bsp; With a wail, R.D. averted his eyes and caught sight of Maggie, a few feet away, lying face down and jerking spasmodically.
The sight of his tortured girlfriend cut the weight from the psychologist’s arms. With every fibre of his being shrieking in protest, he pulled himself up and thrust out. It felt like he was plunging a flayed limb into boiling saltwater. He clenched his teeth and grabbed the AID from Justin’s head. Threw the device to the floor and stamped on it until it was a tangled mess.
Justin sank to his knees and toppled over.
Bile rose in R.D.’s throat. He hobbled out of the room, staggered down the corridor and careened to the toilet, barely making it to the grimy bowl. A whopper, fries and large coke emerged triumphantly and thudded against the porcelain, looking much the same as when they went down.
R.D. clung in undignified woe to the cool white life raft, praying he wasn’t going to have a coronary.
-50-
After a time - it might have been minutes, might have been hours – R.D.’s head stopped swimming and he mustered the strength to stand.
Fuck. Fuck! What had he just witnessed? It was obvious that the AID had done something completely unexpected but what the hell had Justin become? No matter how many pheromones the scientist had just released, R.D. would never forget that image. It was indelibly imprinted on his brain.
A Longhorn bull. The very same one that haunted his nightmares. But how? And Maggie! What had happened to her?
The sweating psychologist staggered to the sink, splashed water on his face and headed unsteadily towards the study. Half way there his senses were side-tracked by the aromatic burp of a coffee percolator and yellow light spilling from an open door.
He stuck his head inside.
It was a cramped office, illuminated by a single bare bulb. Thick sandwiches of paper and card reamed the desk and unspecified blueprints plastered the walls. Maggie Wood was hunched in a swivel chair, crammed into one small corner, holding a large oval mug. Her face was expressionless, waxy and pale. Spotting R.D. she raised the cup slightly in greeting, too exhausted to even waggle her fingers.
Justin rested a hand on the leather seat back behind her head and poured more coffee. The earthy smell of Ruta Maya filled the room and the scientist’s glasses misted as the steam wafted across their cold surface.
“That was some bathroom break.” Justin’s voice was thin and drained. “You all right?”
“Justin? What the hell?”
“Jesus, you look terrible. Want some coffee?”
“I want a bottle of Jim Beam and four Aspirin,” R.D. wheezed. “No. I want an Aspirin and four bottles of Jim Beam. What in God’s name just happened?”
“Aw... I’m so sorry, you two, I surely am. I feel terrible.”
“You feel terrible? My legs are like elastic bands.”
“We know what went wrong. Maggie figured it out.”
“Justin set the AID to its highest frequency,” the girl hissed into her coffee. “But that didn’t dampen his pheromone emissions. It amplified them.”
“Guess I’m not as smart as I thought,” Justin agreed. “I didn’t realise the correct frequency was so important.”
“The AID doesn’t work?” R.D. groaned.
“The principle is sound enough,” Maggie retorted. “If the highest setting increases Inductance, then the lowest setting will do the opposite.”
She pointed to the device lying on the floor in a mashed heap.
“But we can’t test it with this one. You stomped the thing to bits.”
“You’re damned right.” R.D. felt like he’d just survived some mental bungee jump. “What was that shit I saw? Your whole face changed!”
“Whaddya mean changed?” Maggie arched and cracked her neck. Some of her colour was draining back.
“I don’t know.” Justin shrugged his shoulders. “When you pulled the AID off my head I kinda blacked out. I came to with Maggie slapping my face and no sign of you.”
“Yeah.” The girl huffed. “Thanks for leaving me in the lurch, Sir Galahad,”
“You morphed into something…” R.D. tried to find a way to aptly describe his horror. “You turned into a… monster.” But monster was the wrong word.
“All I know is the AID was nearly tearing my skull apart.’ Justin’s frown deepened. “Then suddenly I felt I was getting it under control. Mastering it, huh? So, when you tried to take it I shouted for you to get away. But… I don’t think I did anything else.”
He looked lost.
“It’s all a bit cloudy.”
“Justin.” R.D. picked his words carefully. “You turned into a Longhorn bull.”
“Excuse me?” Justin took off his glasses and wiped them. “A bull?”
He looked at his reflection in the lenses. “You sure you’re remembering it right?”
“I’m not likely to get it wrong. It was only a few minutes ago.”
“Oh.” Justin put his spectacles back on and squinted at his friend. “That’s kind of weird.”
“And everything else about this scenario is perfectly normal?”
“I really don’t know what to say.” Justin sipped his coffee. “You’re the psychologist, huh? You know how the mind plays tricks.”
There was a strained silence, interrupted by Maggie’s trembling lips slurping at her drink.
“Look. Words can’t describe how rotten I feel about what’s happened or how grateful I am for the help y’all have given me so far.” The researcher put his hand back on the woman’s shoulder. “If you wanted to walk out right now I’d understand, I really would.”
Maggie and R.D. looked at each other, as if that thought had already occurred to them. Justin noticed the exchange.
“C’mon... The AID will still work! Maggie said so! All we have to do is make another and use the lowest frequency instead of the highest. You can still go ahead with that, can’t you?”
Maggie massaged her temple. Justin turned to R.D. for a more positive reaction.
“We’re almost there!” he urged.
“So was Apollo 13.” The psychologist stared at his girlfriend. “What do you say?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied quietly.
“It is a moment in history, right enough.” R.D. pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and discovered how much his hands were trembling as he struggled to extricate a thin paper vial. “We either shape it or let something incredible pass us by.”
“Thank you, Mr. Oppenheimer.” The girl drained her cup. “I suppose I am willing to carry on. Only cause I don’t like to admit defeat.”
She looked defiantly up at Justin and a drop of perspiration rolled down her chin.
“But next time we do this experiment, mister, there won’t be an option to set it at high frequency. And I’m gonna be at the other end of the house.”
“You can be at the other end of the county if you want,” Justin enthused. “Aw, thank you both so much!”
Maggie caught his hand as it left the chair behind her head, her fingers fastening like a snake coiling round a weasel. The narrow eyes flashed in fiery contrast to her pallid complexion.
“You better not be hiding anything from me, Justin Moore,” she warned. “I get enough of that from R.D.”
“Why would I?” The scientist patted her hand. “It was an honest mistake, I swear.”
“We should get going.” R.D. put down his mug before he spilled it. “We’ll check on Clancy as we’re going out, if you don’t mind.”
“Yeah, I’d like to meet her.” Maggie added. “How she puts up with this crap is beyond me.”
Behind them, the scientist’s neck tightened for a few seconds.
“Clancy will be fine,” he said, calmly. “There’s no need to go down to the boathouse.”
“Sure.” R.D. straightened, a faraway look on his face. “Clancy will be fine.”
“No need to go to the boathouse,” Maggie nodded absently.
“Like you said. We better get going.”
INDUCTANCE
There is something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something downright detestable.
R.L. Stevenson. The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
-51-
The journey back to Austin was a nightmare of frayed nerves and creeping nausea. The sun dropped wearily below the horizon and their car slipped like soap through a bowl of matt. Above them the moon sweated translucence. Trees galloped past on arachnid limbs. Hares froze and were crushed as the swoop of Maggie’s headlights bored through their fur. A sense of undefined unease filled the car interior.
“I feel like shit.” R.D.’s puffy eyelids kept trying to slide down and make the darkness blessedly complete. “We better stop soon or I’ll fall asleep at the wheel. What’s the next town on the map?”
“Corsicana.” Maggie held a pocket flashlight to the map. “Looks about forty minutes away. Just past where Highway 79 joins...”
“Where it joins I20? Of course! There’s a motel about ten miles from here. I’ve never come on it from this direction.”
Maggie shone her little light over him. “You know a motel out here.”
“I eh... been there a couple of times.” R.D. squinted sheepishly. “You want to turn that thing away?”
“Out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“That was the whole point.”
The girl snapped the flashlight off. “You’re amazing... know that?”
It didn’t sound like a compliment.
Before long a set of boxy Aluminium bunkhouses oozed over the horizon. The bulb rimmed sign on top of the largest proudly proclaimed Southern Star Motel. Underneath a plastic slot-in board cheerfully added The Schneiders Welcome You. Rooms from $25.00. On tatty porches empty concrete flowerpots guarded identical school green doors. Mosquitoes hovered above each foot high container, pickled in luminescence, like flowers without stems.
“May as well stop here, eh?” R.D. spun into the driveway. “It’s a shithole, so the tone’ll be in keeping with the rest of the day.”
He glanced at Maggie’s miserable, hunched form.
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