Santoso appeared frozen in place. Dark veins pulsed in his forehead. Suddenly he spoke to the two guards standing in the doorway. One of the men yelled down the hall, presumably to other policemen, and the two men entered the room with their hands on their side arms. Within seconds several more armed men blocked the door.
Santoso turned back to Hess. “It seems we are at odds, Mr. Hess. Perhaps you wish to rethink your decision.”
Hess pulled his smartphone from his belt and punched in a sequence of numbers. The guards looked to Santoso for instructions, but he shook his head, allowing Hess to make the call.
Hess spoke loudly. “Cameron, Sterling Hess. We have just been forcibly contained at the hospital. I don’t have details at this time, but there may be something to the communications intel intercept we discussed. We need these people in American custody pronto.” He paused, and his brows shot up as he listened. “You’re kidding me. Why are they interested? It’s just a mistake at Qantas.” He listened. “Good God. I hope it’s worth it. Make sure they know we’re on the first floor, north wing. It doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere.” He returned the phone to his belt. “Calvary’s almost here already. They were sent before I even called.”
“Why?” Quentin asked, but Hess had already shifted his attention to their captors.
“Mr. Santoso, you are minutes away from having an international relations incident on your hands. You and I are diplomats. Let’s talk this out before things escalate.”
Heavy footsteps clattered in the hall, and more Indonesian police appeared outside the door. Quentin heard others in the building, shouting curt commands to each other. It sounded like they were positioning themselves for an attack. The whole situation seemed surreal.
Santoso now sweated profusely, his face still red. “Yes, Mr. Hess. We will begin with you explaining exactly what it is that you are so eager to take from our country.”
“We wish only to get our citizens back to their home where they can receive proper medical treatment. Please have your men stand down and let us pass. You have no legal course for holding us. I have been informed that a United States Special Operations Forces unit will be on site very shortly. A hospital is no place for a confrontation.”
Santoso’s expression was venomous. “We have no intention of using force. We merely wish to know the truth. If force is used, it will be a result of your people’s eagerness for violence. Perhaps you should use your phone again and put an end to this nonsense.”
A cacophony of sounds suddenly poured in from outside the hospital: vehicle tires screeching, men shouting and running, an unintelligible bullhorn voice. Santoso’s eyes grew wide. He started to speak but then thought better of it and left the room. Indonesian policemen now formed a semicircle outside the door, their pistols drawn and held pointed at an upward angle against their chests.
Hess stepped toward the door but was repelled by the guards. He wheeled around. “What exactly in the hell are we risking so much to protect? It damned well better be important.”
Quentin said, “It’s more important than you can imagine, but this is a mistake. We can work together—.”
Suddenly there was a gunshot from outside the hospital, and then another.
Hess shouted, “Jesus Christ!”
Quentin and Lindsey forced the students into the corner of the room and onto the floor. Angry yelling from outside the hospital was now constant. But then suddenly, as if it were orchestrated, things quieted down. Only the garbled bullhorn could be heard, but shortly even that stopped. Quentin looked at the nearest policeman, and their eyes met. The man forced a nervous smile. He was visibly shaking. A single gunshot rang out from the street, and the man’s smile faded. For a moment following the shot there was total silence, and the man’s eyes seemed to plead with Quentin. Then the silence was torn apart by a scream of anger from outside. Before the cry ended, gunshots filled the afternoon air. It sounded like someone had lit a whole strand of firecrackers in the street, and for a moment Quentin could almost convince himself that this was all it was.
Santoso stormed into the room. “Do you have any idea what you have done?” he managed to scream in a mix of Indonesian and English. Two policemen followed him into the room, their pistols drawn and eyes wild. “And for what?” Santoso cried. “A boy and his tricks?” Spit flew from the man’s mouth as he spoke, and Quentin realized they were in immediate danger. Santoso had been driven over the edge.
From the corner of his eye, Quentin saw Bobby lean over and whisper to Addison. This was not the time for another brash idea. Quentin started to warn Bobby, but Santoso yelled at them, “Maybe you are not worth it, no?” He motioned for the policemen to point their weapons at Addison. They glanced at each other, but then complied.
“If you are so valuable,” Santoso cried, “then perhaps we should put an end to this!”
Addison rose to his feet. He moved toward the men. This had an almost calming effect on Santoso. He stopped talking and watched Addison approach, as if mesmerized by this unexpected behavior. Both policemen’s guns were pointed at Addison. Addison took another step, until the nearest gun pressed against his neck. The man holding the gun muttered what could have been either a curse or a prayer. Addison stepped directly in front of Santoso, pushing the policeman and his gun back a step. The room was quiet, although sporadic gunfire could still be heard outside.
Barely above a whisper, Lindsey pleaded, “Don’t shoot. Please don’t shoot.”
Addison deliberately lifted a hand and grasped the policeman’s wrist. With his other hand he reached for Santoso’s hand. He held them, smiling gently. The policeman seemed to relax, and his gun moved away from Addison’s neck. Quentin’s eyes were drawn to their hands. Where Addison’s skin touched the men, it appeared to flow into them like liquid.
“Do not be afraid,” Addison said.
Santoso and the policeman looked down at their hands. Both men tried pulling free, but Addison held tight. The policeman’s gun fell and clattered on the floor. Santoso’s eyes grew wide as he watched his own arm change shape, becoming shorter. He babbled something unintelligible and tried desperately to free himself. The policeman simply stared at his arm, silent but horrified. The other men looked on helplessly. Santoso’s arm was no longer even recognizable, and his babbling had turned into pleading screams.
Abruptly the nearest policeman stepped forward, raised his pistol, and shot point blank at Addison’s face.
The pistol’s crack was deafening in the stark room, and it was followed by silence. Even Santoso’s screams stopped. Addison did not fall. The bullet had torn a gaping hole under his eye and out the back of his head. But he stood erect, still smiling. The policeman who had fired lowered his pistol, and it hung limp in his hand as the hole in Addison’s face closed upon itself.
Santoso’s screams resumed. Addison disengaged his own hands from the men’s arms, which had become no more than bulges on their shoulders. The policeman tried to scream too, but his cries turned to sputtering grunts. Both men collapsed onto the floor. The guards from the hall were now in the room, but all they could do was watch in horror as the two bodies fell silent and transformed into amorphous blobs of flesh. The clothing on the bodies seemed to disappear as it was integrated into the shifting forms. The two bodies then merged together into one larger mass.
Quentin moved to where Bobby stood. “What have you done, Bobby?”
Bobby looked at him, his face ashen, and then turned back to the transforming monstrosity as if he might miss something. “I told Addison to make something to scare them away, so we could get out of here. I didn’t think he’d kill them.”
The mass on the floor began taking shape. Pink fleshy skin turned leathery, and bumps formed on its surface. Wrinkles in the skin appeared, growing deeper until folded limbs were apparent. The mass of tissue shuddered, and then it rolled over and expanded. Everyone stepped back. Two legs shot out to their full length, and a snake-like neck uncurled from beneath the arms. E
ach arm was fringed with red feathers and ended with three impossibly long fingers tipped with hooked claws. Upon the neck was a head the size and shape of a deer’s, but instead of a muzzle, the creature bore a thick beak. The beak sprang open, and a piercing cry filled the room, like a dozen parrots screeching in unison. The creature was on its side, but the head righted itself, revealing another fringe of red feathers that stood out from the back of the head. Oversized marble eyes gazed about the room as if studying each one of them.
After a surreal moment of silent observation, the thing kicked wildly and twisted its body. And then it was upright on two legs, its head nearly touching the ceiling. More long red feathers spread out in a fan from the tail. Thick muscles twitched under the leathery skin, and now that it stood fully erect it was obvious that the body was built for power and speed. A dinosaur of some kind—it had to be. It was a terrifying hulk, and Quentin shrank back to the wall, pulling Lindsey and Ashley with him. One of the policemen ran from the room, but the others seemed too confused to take action.
And then the creature attacked.
Without a sound, it lunged at the men in the doorway. Clawed feet skidded on floor tiles and it went down, slamming into the open door and knocking it from its hinges. The creature managed to grab one of the scattering policemen. The heavy beak clamped onto the man’s thigh. Even as the thing scrambled to right itself, it shook its head violently, tearing through trousers and flesh and flipping the man to the ground like a doll. One of the other men stood his ground and fired at the dinosaur. It charged out of the room after him.
There were more gunshots and screams and ripping flesh. The injured man lying in the doorway stared dumbly at his ruined leg. Quentin rushed over to help him, but then he stopped. The bloodied leg was changing, pulling itself up into the torso, just as Santoso’s arm had done. The man was being transformed.
Screams and gunfire now came from elsewhere in the hospital, followed by the piercing call of the rampaging creature. The man on the floor tried to speak, but was pitifully weakened by sheer panic. The guy’s body was becoming something else, probably just as menacing as the dinosaur. Only this time there was no one else in the room for it to attack. They had to get out. Lindsey and the students seemed to know this and were already stepping over the broken door. Quentin followed, and urged Hess and Saskia to come. But they were frozen in place.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” Hess said. The doctor just stared at the changing man on the floor.
“Later,” Quentin said, “but now we have to go!”
Hess snapped out of his trance. He grabbed the doctor’s arm. “Paul, we’re going.”
In the hallway they immediately ran into three more fallen men. The bodies were already changing and were beginning to merge. One of them was still conscious, and he pleaded to them. But the lower half of his body had already become a shuddering mass and was flowing into the others.
Quentin started for the front doors, but then he spun around and confronted Addison. “This has to stop. If everyone that thing attacks turns into another one, we’ll have an epidemic! Can you stop it now, before it kills more people?”
“The creatures are living things. I cannot—”
Addison was interrupted by a stabbing screech. A second feathered dinosaur rushed out of the room they had just left. This one was smaller, formed from the body of only one man. It ran headlong into the much larger third one that was just rising up on two massive legs. The larger creature staggered and lifted its head. Its neck became entangled in a hanging fluorescent light fixture, which broke and fell in pieces around it. It then snapped at the smaller animal that had run into it. The two fussed at each other for a moment and then stopped, as if realizing they were the same species. Together they turned and faced Quentin and the others.
Oh shit. Quentin shot a glance down the hall. The front doors were too far away. They would have to make it to the nearest room.
As if reading Quentin’s thoughts, both creatures charged. Quentin turned to run and abruptly collided with Hess. Hess fell hard, and Quentin stumbled over him onto the floor. He looked back. The creatures’ feet skidded on the tiles, but they were quickly building speed. Quentin jumped up, scrambled to the nearest door and slammed into it. It didn’t open. He tried turning the knob but felt resistance. Through the narrow window a doctor stared back at him, his face stricken with fear. He was holding the knob. Quentin pounded on the door and screamed at him, but the man shook his head and held on.
And then it was too late. Before he could turn around, Quentin heard the clicking of claws on the floor, mixed with the cries of the students as they fell over each other to get away. Quentin turned. Dr. Saskia was helping Hess onto his feet, and the dinosaurs fell upon them first. The larger one grabbed Hess’s arm in its beak, and the smaller one latched onto Saskia’s shoulder. The doctor swung at the creature and ripped free of its grip. He stumbled away. The dinosaur then turned to Hess, who was helpless on the ground, and grabbed his ankle. Both creatures began shaking and pulling.
“No!” Hess’s voice warbled as the creatures shook his body.
Suddenly, deafening blasts obscured these sounds. The smaller dinosaur’s neck was severed and its body flopped on the floor next to its head. The larger creature dropped Hess and turned to face the source of the noise. Three men in black fatigues crouched inside the front doors, their rifles trained on the dinosaur. They all fired at once. The creature’s legs splayed outward, and the body collapsed with a loud bestial grunt. It didn’t move again.
One of the men swiveled and waved to others outside the doors. He then bellowed, “Are you people Americans?”
“Yes,” they all shouted back.
The men approached cautiously. Behind them, others began working their way toward the far end of the hall. They wore riot gear and bulletproof vests. The men approached and then stood staring at the creatures they had killed. Hess cursed as Dr. Saskia examined his wounds. Addison was at Hess’s side, too, resting his hands on him. Quentin hoped he was preventing Hess from transforming into another raging beast.
A stocky, gray-haired man walked in the front doors and made his way straight for them. He wore a green uniform, and the men in black fatigues moved out of his way as he brushed past them. He looked at the dead dinosaurs and then faced them.
“I’m Colonel Roger Richards, Defense and Army Attaché, U.S. Embassy Jakarta.” His eyes glided confidently from one of them to the next. “Folks, I’d like to know what in God’s name is the cause of this goddamn cluster fuck.”
Five
“Why were you in Wamena?”
“Where did your plane go down?”
“Do you have identification?”
“What have you told the Indonesians?”
They had been hustled into a green military truck with no windows, and the truck now roared through the streets of Jayapura. Bobby didn’t want to talk to these men. The horrified faces of Santoso and the policemen as they watched their own bodies morph into something else flashed through his mind over and over. Their screams of terror rang in his ears. Bobby had killed them all. He had asked Addison to do something without thinking it through, and now the men were dead. There wouldn’t even be bodies for their families to bury. Instead, the dinosaurs would probably be taken somewhere to be dissected and studied.
“Tell us your full names, one at a time.”
“Why were you taken to a hospital?”
“What the hell were those animals?”
The questions kept coming, but Bobby ignored them. His mistake had killed people, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what this meant. How was he any different from the Addison who had killed Miranda and the Papuans? At least Addison had the excuse of being brain damaged.
The truck’s engine grew louder as it accelerated. Bobby decided they must be leaving the city, maybe going back to the airport.
“Have you contacted anyone in the states?”
“Where are your passports?”
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During all of this, Ashley and Carlos sat quietly staring at the plastic hospital flip-flops on their feet. The men weren’t asking Addison any questions directly; obviously they didn’t know he was what this was all about.
Eventually the truck slowed down and made several turns before coming to a stop. There were shouts and then a metal door shutting. When the back of the truck opened, they were inside a large building, like an airplane hangar. They climbed out of the truck. Other soldiers worked at various jobs around the hangar, and they stopped what they were doing to stare. Colonel Richards took them to one end of the hangar where there was a narrow hallway with doors, and they entered one of the rooms. Small tables had been pushed together to make one large table in the middle of the room with metal folding chairs around it.
They sat around the table, and some men brought pitchers of water and a stack of paper cups. One of the men said that restrooms were in the hall, but no one got up to use them. Colonel Richards sat at one end of the table, between two other men in green uniforms. One of them turned on a voice recorder and placed it on the table.
Richards cleared his throat. “Folks, I appreciate the fact that you have suffered an ordeal, but we’ve got a situation on our hands, and you people have made it worse.”
Mr. Darnell shifted in his seat. “A situation?”
Colonel Richards frowned at him. “You were in Wamena when it started, were you not? On July twelfth? Flare-up between the OPM and Indonesian forces. Some indigenous Papuans were shot. Nothing new. But Washington, in its infinite wisdom, decided we should get involved. That didn’t go over well. Things have been hairy around here since. Washington realized the mistake in short order, and we’ve toned it down.” Richards waved his hand. “This facility is a temporary base for conciliation measures. The climate had become almost quiet—until today. We get orders to pull you folks out, bring you stateside pronto. We show up. Tempers are short at the get-go. Recipe for a Charlie Foxtrot, which is exactly what we got.”
Infusion: Diffusion Book 2 Page 11
