Boy Gone

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “Well … you two are by far the farthest along.”

  Scotty opened his eyes—held her gaze. He waited until she said the words aloud.

  “Tori is fine … and she wants to visit with you. She’s already walking. Well, trying to walk. Says you’re a,” Seve tapped her chin with one finger in a very Human-like manner, “ … I’m trying to remember the actual word she used … oh yeah, wuss. She said you were a wuss.”

  Scotty blinked away sudden tears of happiness. He opened his mouth and tried to speak. An undecipherable croaking sound escaped. But at least it was something audible. He tried again, “Can … I … see her … now?”

  Seve, smiling, stood up and nodded. But instead of walking toward the door in her Vallic form, she walked straight through the opposite wall and disappeared from view. Show off, he thought.

  It was a good five minutes before he heard a commotion out in the hall. A moment later, Tori, holding on to Seve’s arm, hobbled around the corner—a broad smile on her face. A face that was strangely segmented—left side Human, right side Vallic. Seve was right—Tori was progressing, physical therapy-wise, at a far quicker pace than he was. But by the time she plopped down into a chair at the side of his bed, she looked totally spent.

  “You look terrible!” she said.

  “You look weird,” Scotty croaked back.

  “I’m farther along than you are … than any of us.”

  “I’ll catch up. I’ll be farther along than you in a day or two.”

  “Uh huh … yeah, right,” she said, exaggeratedly widening her eyes. “Jill is dead … so is Courtney, and so is Trent.”

  Scotty’s eyes shot up to Seve. Glaring at her, he was suddenly angry— infuriated—and he didn’t know why. Seve had just told him that their mortality rate was better than average. She’d led him to believe that fewer had died, and he’d figured maybe one, two at the most. And now he’d just found out he’d never see three kids, perhaps friends, again.

  “Sorry … Seve told me you didn’t know. Thought it best to just tell you. Rip the Band-Aid off … real quick-like.”

  Scotty brought his attention back to Tori. Weird being able to see through half of her bluish, glowing, face.

  Tori changed the subject. “Watch this … ” She closed her eyes and within moments both distinctive halves of her face began to switch. The left side, which was Human flesh, was becoming fainter and beginning to glow, while the right side was becoming more solid—signs of flesh already visible there.

  Narrowing his eyes, Scotty scrutinized the transformation, akin to how any one of the doctors there would have made the observation. It was incredible. The speed in which she’d made those physical changes. When completed, her thin brows shot up. “I learned how to do that yesterday. Go ahead, you can say it: I’m amazing. Seve says I’m a superstar.” Tori leaned in, “Okay … your turn. What can you show me?”

  “That’s enough for today, kids,” Seve said. “Scotty showed progress to me earlier. And, for your information, Tori, he, too, is a superstar.”

  Tori nodded, not trying to hide her disbelieving smirk. Rising to her feet, she held out a fist.

  Scotty went ahead and fist-bumped it. “Tomorrow, I’ll come see you.”

  “Yeah, sure you will,” she said. Turning and hobbling away, she declined to take Seve’s extended-out arm for support.

  Five minutes later, Seve reentered the room, along with the baldheaded Dr. Miller, both now in their Human forms. He was holding what resembled a beehive in one hand, only this beehive was far smaller, shaped like the curled horn on an animal—like that on a ram.

  The two moved closer. The doctor placed the ram’s horn beehive-thing on the bedcovers in front of Scotty.

  “What is that thing? Scotty asked.

  Neither answered the question. Instead, the doctor said, “You’re getting fairly healthy. Clearly, you will be one of the survivors here.”

  “Yeah, I already know that,” Scotty said, a little bewildered.

  “That means you will need your own Orand-Pall,” Seve said, placing a hand atop the hive-like thing. “It is how we communicate with one another when we are apart.”

  “Like a cellphone?”

  “Well, not really. An Orand-Pall will allow you to speak, indirectly, to anyone anywhere … even to those on other planets. Or to those on spaceships.” Seve raised her sleeve and gestured toward something circular lying beneath her skin. The doctor then did the same, exposing his own round circular protrusion, like a big, puffy coin, just beneath the skin. Scotty probably wouldn’t have noticed either, if they hadn’t brought them to his attention.

  “What do you mean by indirectly?”

  “That it’s more like you tell the Orand-Pall something and then it, in turn, tells the other person’s Orand-Pall. It goes back and forth like that,” Seve said.

  “Sounds confusing. Why not just talk to the person directly?”

  “It’s complicated,” Seve said. “An Orand-Pall can do certain things that we cannot. One of the things it can do is read your thoughts.”

  Scotty made a face. “I don’t want anything reading my thoughts.”

  “Well, it only happens when you’re communicating. Scotty, your Orand-Pall will become a part of you. Will be more loyal to you than anyone, anything, could ever possibly be,” Seve said.

  Scotty shrugged. “Okay. So … can I see it?”

  Seve and the doctor exchanged a glance.

  “You first need to understand the Orand-Pall is alive. It’s not a thing—not a device.”

  “Really? So, it’ll be more like a pet?”

  The doctor, showing an annoyed frustrated expression, said to Seve, “I have a lot of work to do, others to attend to.”

  “Hold out your arm, Scotty. No, your other arm and try not to move, okay?”

  Scotty began doing as asked then pulled his arm back. “Is this going to hurt?”

  “No, you won’t feel much of anything,” the doctor said, unlatching a cap from the wider end of the curled ram’s horn-like thing. He impatiently waited for Scotty to reposition his arm, his forearm facing up. “Now, don’t move!”

  Scotty began to wince even before actually seeing what the thing looked like. The doctor tipped the ram’s horn-thing up and jiggled it. Out the thing came: Perhaps a bug, of some sort, or maybe some kind of crab? Scotty furrowed his brow as it began to move—to scurry around. It had hundreds of tiny legs, like a centipede’s legs, all around its circumference. It was using long, hair-thin antennae to feel its way around. Dark red, maybe purple, it was just about the most disgusting creature Scotty had ever seen. But he really didn’t mind bugs all that much. And this one was fascinating. Unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

  “You say it’s smart?” Scotty asked, as it came a little closer to his legs, lying beneath the bedcovers.

  “Very smart. Bred for only one purpose,” Seve said.

  Scotty smiled as the tiny creature tentatively moved even closer—its antennae seemed to be reaching out for him like teeny outstretched arms. He laughed, “I think it likes me—” barely were the words out when the Orand-Pall hopped onto his still outstretched forearm. Scotty screamed; tried to pull his arm back and shake the thing off. But both the doctor and Seve were firmly holding his arm in place. He couldn’t move it. Eyes wide, Scotty watched as the small creature began to burrow beneath his skin—using its countless legs like miniature saw blades. As blood began to seep through the two-inch slit in his skin, Scotty screamed louder—tugged harder—trying, vainly, to retract his arm.

  “Stop fighting it, Scotty!” It won’t hurt you,” Seve ordered.

  “It is hurting me!” He watched in horror as it wiggled, shimmied sideways beneath his skin, like a burrowing sand crab. “Get it out of me!” he screamed, watching the last semblance of the Orand-Pall disappear beneath his skin. Then, five or six errant antennae, like wet spaghetti noodles, slurped out of sight into the bloody gash on his forearm.

  Dr. Miller u
sed his index finger to apply yellow goop along the length of the still open wound. Almost immediately, the wound began to close—to heal. Scotty could still feel movement within his arm. “It’s moving around in there,” he cried out in alarm, staring up at Seve then the doctor.

  The doctor, replacing the cap on whatever the ointment crap was, said, “Good, it’s just getting comfortable. Getting a lay of the land, so to speak.”

  Chapter 39

  They were now back in their cave dwelling, still feeling the lingering effects from their respective procedures. Conversation was kept to a minimum as each quietly contemplated what they had endured and what was yet to come. All of them now were exhibiting partially Human and partially Vallic physiologies; arbitrary areas—transparent splotches like glowing energetic voids—on what was, other than that, their normal flesh. Tiffany appeared to be missing an eye, and part of her nose. Scotty’s right hand was gone from sight.

  Scotty glanced toward the three empty, though properly made-up beds. Beds, belonging to those who didn’t survive the procedures: recently departed Jill, Courtney, and Trent. Their empty beds only underscored the seriousness, the life and death nature of present life on Planet Hope.

  He watched as a slow-moving Romper passed the mouth of the cave outside. Four or five individual adults could be seen standing within it—being transported somewhere. Receiving the impression they were not Human, originally, he pondered on that. There were the Vallic-Humans and there were the Human-Vallics. The latter were the Earth Humans such as himself, Tori, Tiffany, and Ernesto, plus all the other kids and adults who’d recently gone through the Dyad-Geneses procedure. The former, the Vallic-Humans, from Lorimar, were the original aliens: Seve, Jennet, Horran, and others—those who had gone through their own version of Dyad-Geneses. Thinking some about it, Scotty could not recall a time when the two differentiated groups, not even individually, hung out together. Although often friendly, they were not friends. The Vallic-Humans were on Hope for a specific reason; an obligation that required them to dedicate what still remained of their lives to a singular cause. In their words, it was to assist Earth Humans survive the impending, catastrophic, spacial calamity coming. Scotty felt, and often could see, the sullen resentment on their faces—especially in their eyes. Perhaps not so much in Seve’s but definitely in the others. But that was okay. He didn’t really blame them.

  The remaining Human-Vallic children, those who survived the most recent Dyad-Geneses procedure, had been delivered here to their respective dormitory cave dwellings to regain their strength—and to physically prepare for what was coming next. Something Seve referred to as a DNA Inculcation Infusion—big words that Scotty didn’t grasp. She said it was more commonly referred to as smart dunking, which certainly made it sound less scary. Hopefully, it would be a lot less painful than Dyad-Geneses.

  The previous morning, when Seve dropped by to check on them, she arrived holding a large box, one filled with gifts. Although thinking about it now, none of the items were wrapped, like all true gifts back home on Earth. There were several packs of playing cards, a stack of coloring books, cartons of crayons, spiral-bound drawing pads, pencils, a stack of paperback books—geared to either boys or girls tastes—and an assortment of odd toys, like Slinkies and Lego kits, and even a Mr. Potato Head. Scotty pictured Seve and Jennet, ghost-like, pushing a store cart around the various aisles of a toy store.

  Ernesto, after rifling through the assortment of toys, looked up at Seve and shook his head. “What is this crap? You think we’re fucking five-year-olds? Lady, for your information, I play Assassin Creed and maybe Gears of War on Xbox 1 … I wouldn’t even know what to do with a damn Slinkie.” Scotty nodded his head in agreement, though he wasn’t totally against the Lego kits, or even the Mr. Potato Head.

  Glancing now around their cave dormitory—noting the toys and coloring books strewn about on the beds and on the ground—all Scotty really wanted was to be back home. To be with Larry, sitting now on his own bed, knowing his mother and father, his big brother and little sister, would never be far away again.

  Scotty heard Tiffany speaking in low tones to Tori, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Ernesto was asleep on his bed. The Mr. Potato Head box had been torn open, its plastic parts assembled and laying atop the bedcovers near his pillow.

  A shadow fell across the mouth of the cave. One of the more aerodynamic transport crafts was maneuvering closer in. Then, to Scotty’s surprise and unease, Horran stepped across the open hatchway and into the cave.

  Horran stood tall in his energetic form as he looked about the dorm quarters. His gaze fell upon the still-sleeping Ernesto. He waited a moment before using a nearly transparent foot to jostle the sleeping boy’s bed. Ernesto groggily muttered something then quickly sat up, noting Horran’s towering form near him.

  “Sorry … um … what’s going on?” Ernesto asked, looking up at Horran, then toward the other kids.

  “It is time. Bring nothing with you,” Horran ordered.

  “Where are we going?” Tori asked.

  “You will see soon enough. Up, all of you. Get into the Arrow Wing.”

  Scotty stared at the now waiting, hovering, craft. It actually kind of looked like an arrow wing.

  “Where’s Seve?” Scotty asked, as he pulled on his boots and rose to his feet. “I thought she was going to take us to … to be smart dunked.” He still didn’t know what the phrase meant, but he knew he’d feel lots more comfortable if Seve was around.

  “Seve is not feeling well today.”

  It took Ernesto the longest to lazily drag himself into a seated position and pull his boots on. Looking around, he asked, “Are we ever coming back here?”

  Horran didn’t bother to answer, although he may have shrugged—hard to tell. One by one, the four kids jumped across and into the awaiting craft. Horran, following behind, on his way forward into the cockpit, moved right through both the kids and the seats. “Take your seats,” he said, as he got his own bulk situated at the controls, powering the sleek craft away from the rocky cliffside. Soon, they were rising high up within the valley.

  Scotty, seated between Tiffany and Ernesto, looked straight forward and through the cockpit window. He watched as they moved across, then past the buildings where they underwent their recent treatments.

  “Where we going?” Tiffany asked, as she fiddled with a mostly invisible ponytail, securing it in place with a bright neon-pink elastic band.

  Scotty, noticing they were moving beyond the valley now, raised himself higher in his seat so he could get a better perspective of the ground below. It was pretty much all orangey-colored rocks and sand. He’d heard the term barren used before, and he was pretty sure that’s what this area was too. It looked hot—like a place you wouldn’t want to be caught dead without a big jug of water … maybe a weapon of some kind, too. Undoubtedly, there were all sorts of alien killer animals, hiding among the towering rocks and dark nooks and crannies.

  The Arrow Wing’s sudden descent caused Tori and Ernesto to simultaneously groan. Scotty, too, felt it in the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes as a pang of nausea lingered, then slowly passed. The craft banked tightly left, revealing the ground below coming up fast and the perfectly spaced dome structures, maybe ten in all, that looked like tiny tan-colored igloos. Only then could he see people in their Human form, milling around down there.

  Horran, after putting the craft down gently, was quickly up and out of his seat in a blur. Even before Scotty could move out of his way, Horran was walking right through him. A sensation Scotty decided he definitely didn’t like, it somehow felt like he’d been rudely intruded upon.

  Once outside, standing in the intense midday heat, the four kids were clustered together in a small group. Each held a hand up, shielding their eyes from the glare rising off the white sand.

  The Human adults gathered in close and stood before them. Scotty noticed that Horran was already heading back to the Arrow Wing.

  On
e of the men stepped forward. He looked like a character out of a movie. His long hair, turning gray, was messily pulled together into some kind of bun at the back of his head. A boy-bun, he’d heard them referred to. He also had the palest blue eyes Scotty had ever seen. But perhaps his most noticeable physical attribute was his broad, welcoming smile, which put Scotty instantly at ease.

  He said, “Hello. I am Professor Hank Stiles. But just Hank is fine. Bill, here, is on my left, and that’s Gail and Caroline, on my right. Today is an important day for you.” He stopped speaking long enough to let Horran’s Arrow Wing take off then fly away.

  “Each of you will be taken into one of these hard-huts behind me. The four of us are chiefly here to assist you with your individual procedures. There is nothing to be afraid of. This won’t hurt a bit, I assure you.”

  “So why are you in your Human form?” Ernesto asked.

  “Simply to show you that we too are Human … Human-Vallics, just like you. To show you that you can trust us, which will be key as you embark on your individual DNA Inculcation Infusion processes.”

  “Smart Dunking?” Scotty asked aloud.

  “That’s right. Let’s just call it that, for now.”

  “So, what’s this all about, Hank?” Tori asked impatiently. “It’s like a thousand degrees out here. I can feel sweat dripping down under my armpits.”

  Hank nodded. He turned left then right and simultaneously the four adults turned into their Vallic energetic forms. He said, “Each of you has been assigned a learning guide. You will go with them now to a hard-hut where they will assist you in disrobing and getting situated within the brine vats.”

  Before anyone could object to what sounded pretty awful to Scotty, the adults were on the move. Gail made a beeline toward Tori, and Caroline toward Tiffany. Bill, who Scotty remembered as dark-skinned, approached Ernesto, while Hank stayed put, his eyes focused on Scotty. The kids exchanged nervous glances with each other before moving off with their learning guides.

  “Come with me, son … our hard-hut is the closest one here.”