by Lee Goldberg, Scott Nicholson, J A Konrath, J Carson Black,
But Sun stood her ground.
Why did you wake up now?” She asked. Her voice was getting louder. “What's special about now? Why not ninety years ago? What took so goddamn long?”
“I was waaaaaaaaiting.”
“For what?”
“The riiiiiiight time.”
“Where did you really come from, Bub? Tell me the truth. None of this bible thumping bullshit.”
The demon looked beyond them.
“Raaaaaace. Heeeeeeeeeelen.”
Race pushed Helen forward in her wheelchair, stopping to give Sun a stern look.
“Don't let Helen go in there,” Sun said. “You can’t trust him.”
“What happened to remaining united in our opinion?” Race asked brusquely.
“Bub has been lying. I bet everything he's said so far has been a lie.”
Race looked at Andy, a question in his eyes.
“She’s over-reacting,” Andy said, shrugging.
Sun clenched her fist and Andy thought for a moment that she was going to deck him. Instead she spun on her heels and stormed out.
“Sun doesn’t like meeeeeeeeee.”
“I like you,” Race said. “And I’ll like you even more if you cure my wife.”
Andy tapped Race on the shoulder and whispered.
“Do you think making a deal with the devil is wise, General?”
Race offered a clipped grin. “I asked the other guy, and he wasn’t listening. This is the only hope left.”
“But don’t you think...”
“There isn’t a single thing you could say or do to stop me, son. “
Andy watched Race and Harker wheel Helen over to the feeding door. As far as instincts went, Andy’s weren’t very good. Time and again he’d made the wrong decision, the bad call. But he couldn’t help feeling that everything was about to go horribly, irrevocably wrong.
He got up and went after Sun.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sun was punching in the code for the first gate when Andy caught up to her.
“Don't even,” she warned. The affection she felt for the linguist was gone, replaced by a sense of betrayal.
“Shh,” Andy put a finger in front of his lips. “Maybe he can still hear us.”
Sun swung the gate open, aiming for Andy's shoulder. She missed.
“Hey, hold on.”
Sun lengthened her stride.
“I agree with you,” he said, catching her arm.
“You what?”
He moved in front of Sun and faced her. “I agree with you!” Andy whispered. “Bub's lying.”
“Well, why did...”
“Shh! Keep it down. Do you remember when Bub said the only thing to fear is fear itself?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So that’s FDR. How has he heard that quote? I don't think it was on any of the phonics videos.”
Some of Sun’s anger evaporated. She pushed a strand of hair out of her face.
“Okay, we both know he's lying. So why didn't you back me up? Race is going to put his wife in there with him.”
“Race is going to do that no matter what we say. I think he made this decision a while ago. Calling Bub a liar isn't going to help the situation. We need to figure out why Bub is lying, and how can he know that quote.”
Sun nodded. Her affection for Andy returned. He’d played it smart, and she’d reacted without thinking things through.
“Has he been awake since he was brought here and faking it?” Sun said, thinking out loud. “Maybe he's been biding his time, listening to everything going on around him, taking it all in. Even if he didn't know English, if he has an eidetic memory, he could remember everything that had been said since his arrival and then translate it after he learned English. Maybe that's how he knows so much. Or maybe, like Shotzen said, he's always known English.”
“Possible, but I think that's reaching.”
“What's another explanation?”
“Someone's been coaching him,” Andy said.
“Who?”
“I don't know. But his habitat is always being video recorded, right?”
“Yeah. So we just need to watch the recordings and see who's been paying him visits.”
“Right. And in the meantime, let's just play along with him. We know he's lying, but we don't know why. Better to let him believe we’re on his side.”
It made sense to Sun.
“Okay. But I still think letting Bub near Helen is a bad idea.”
“I'm beginning to think,” Andy said, “that a lot about Samhain is a bad idea.”
Andy punched in the code for the gate and they returned to Red 14. Race had wheeled Helen over to the pneumatic door on the side of Bub's habitat. The sheep's hatch was open, and he was talking to the demon through it. Sun and Andy got close enough to hear the exchange.
“I do have the authority, and the ability, to terminate you if I consider you a threat,” Race said. “There are several safeguards, installed before we knew if you were hostile or not. I'm sure you understand.”
“I want to heeeeeeelp yooooooou.”
Race hesitated. Sun noticed that he had a large white object in his hand, the size of a baseball bat.
“It will be fine, Regis,” Helen said.
Race touched his wife’s neck. “Lower your head, dear.”
Helen hunched down, and Race pushed her chair into the dwelling.
Bub waited, squatting down. Race moved slowly, the white object resting on the wheelchair's handles.
“Don’t beeeee afraaaaaaid.”
“This is called a cattle prod,” Race said, holding out the white stick. “It’s been modified, and has enough electricity to stop your heart.”
Bub took a step towards them and reached for Helen, his movements slow and steady.
Helen sat stock-still, even when Bub touched her face.
“Relaaaaaaaaaax.”
Bub picked Helen up, slowly and carefully, while Race stood by holding the prod like a broadsword.
Helen began to shake.
This was bad, Sun knew. Very bad. She took a step toward the habitat door, but Andy held her back.
“It’s out of our control,” Andy whispered.
Sun watched, helpless, as Helen’s tremors became worse.
“It's the chorea,” Race said.
“Waaaaaaaaaaaait,” Bub told him. The demon cradled Helen in his giant arms; close to his chest, like a child would hold a teddy bear. Her trembling gradually subsided.
Sun became aware she was biting her lower lip.
“I brought the bible,” Thrist said, bursting into the room. He stopped in mid-step when he looked in the habitat. “Sweet Jesus,” Thrist whispered.
Helen's head disappeared in Bub's massive claw as he appeared to anoint her. She yelped like a scared puppy. Race moved in with the cattle prod, but Bub set Helen down and quickly backed away.
“It’s dooooooone.”
Race looked at Bub, then at his wife, who was lying curled up on the ground.
“Helen?”
She held up her head. “Race?
And then she stood up.
“Helen... you’re standing!”
Race dropped the cattle prod and ran to embrace her.
“My dear, how do you feel? Are you okay?”
“I feel wonderful, Regis. Just wonderful.”
Race began to sob, and then Helen sobbed as well.
“We've witnessed a miracle,” Father Thrist said.
He genuflected, kneeling down and making the sign of the cross. Sun sidled up to Dr. Belgium. She remained unimpressed.
“Did you run serum tests on that sheep leg yet?” Sun asked from the corner of her mouth.
“A few. It was still wiggling this morning when I checked. Some apoptosis—cell death, but it's still moving. Since there's no respiration or circulation, I think the leg is reabsorbing its own dead tissue for energy.”
“Anything conclusive?”
“I'm running an amino acid de
tection to ID proteins and enzymes.”
“Where are the recent video recordings of Bub's habitat?” Sun asked. “For the last week?”
“Uh... Red 4. I've been putting them there.”
“Look Regis! I can walk!”
Helen was strolling around the habitat, tentatively at first, and then prancing like a gazelle.
“Wonderful, Helen! It's wonderful!”
“We'll also need blood work on Helen,” Sun said. “I don't trust Harker. Can you do it?”
Belgium nodded, several more times than necessary.
“What should we do now?” Andy asked Sun.
“First the recordings. I'd like a chance to examine Helen myself. I'd also like to spend some time in Red 3 and see what else I can find out about Bub's physiology. Frank, are you sequencing Bub's mitochondrial DNA?”
“Hmm? No. Nuclear.”
“Mitochondrial?” Andy asked.
“The genome of an organism is found in the nucleus of a cell,” Sun explained. “Mitochondria are organelles that produce energy for a cell. They also contain DNA, but fewer genes than nuclear DNA.”
“I'lI test for short tandem repeats,” Belgium nodded. “I'm convinced Bub has a lot of the same genes that we do, and that other animals do, but so far I can't classify them. Maybe an STR of his mitochondria will turn up something.”
“I'd like to get back to the capsule,” Andy said. “See if I can make sense of that hot rock.”
Race and Helen were slow dancing, wet cheek to wet cheek.
Father Thrist was on his knees, hands clasped in prayer.
Dr. Harker had her nail clippers out.
Bub was staring at Sun through the Plexiglas, the expression on his face unpleasant.
Sun shivered. “I liked him better before he could talk,” she said. “Let's get started.”
She left Red 14, feeling the demon’s eyes on her the entire time.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Pathetic, Dr. Julie Harker thought.
Race had kissed so much demon ass his face was turning brown. The All Important Roosevelt Book had been left on his chair, forgotten. Race and Helen had danced out of Red 14 an hour ago, giggling like teenagers. Probably going to have sex, Harker guessed. The thought sickened her.
Just as sickening was Father Thrist, sucking up to Bub with sycophantic relish. He'd given Bub his precious bible, preaching endlessly about the wonders of Jesus and the Holy Spirit. Harker had been a Christian, once. Her parish priest offered no explanation for her daughter’s death, other than the lame “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
A child’s death wasn’t mysterious. It was reprehensible. Harker wanted no part of any religion that allowed such a thing to happen.
Harker sat patiently outside of the habitat, waiting. She had a question to ask Bub, but she wanted to be alone when she did. It was admittedly a long shot, but it kept Harker rooted to her chair, watching Father Thrist grovel and gesture. Harker passed the time by picking at her cuticles, a habit from her youth. A day didn't go by where she didn't draw some blood from one or two fingers, cutting down too deep.
After an interminable wait, the priest left. Running off to call the Pope, Harker guessed. The only two remaining in Red 14 were herself and that flake Dr. Belgium. Belgium was busy at the computer, engrossed in some gene program. Harker decided to chance being overheard, and she approached the habitat slowly.
“Dr. Haaaaarker. Are you maaaaaaaad?”
“Mad? Why?”
“I heeeeeeealed Helen. You could noooooot.”
“I haven't examined her yet, so I can't be sure the Huntington's is actually gone.”
“You have dooooooubt.”
“No. I just prefer facts to faith.”
The demon nodded. Harker eyed him, hoof to horn. He was certainly formidable. But supernatural? Harker decided she didn’t care, one way or the other.
“So you can raise the dead?” she asked.
“Yesssssssss.”
“How long can they be dead before you can raise them? Minutes, hours... years?”
“Houuuuuurs.”
Harker frowned. She'd been harboring a minor fantasy of digging up her beloved Shirley and bringing her to Bub. It was ridiculous, she knew. But better to ask than always wonder.
“Who diiiiiied?”
“Excuse me?”
“You want me to bring someone baaaaaaaack.”
Harker's eyes began to glaze and her lower lip quivered. She couldn’t help it. The pain never went away.
“I lost a child,” Harker said.
Bub grinned. His grin was like opening a drawer full of steak knives.
“I can maaaaaaake a child.”
Harker blinked. “What?”
“A chiiiiild. I can maaaaaaaake one.”
“A newborn?”
“Any aaaaaaaaage.”
That would be perfect! All these years, without hope of ever holding a baby again...
“How?” Harker asked.
“A sheeeeeeeeeep.”
Harker frowned.
“You can make a baby out of a sheep?”
“I can change the geeeeeeeeenes. Make it huuuuuman.”
“I'd like to see,” Harker said.
“I neeeeed your help.”
“How?”
The demon leaned closer to the Plexiglas and lowered his voice.
“We shouldn’t beeeeeeee here,” Bub said.
Harker furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”
“In Samhaaaaaaain. You and I are trapped heeeeeere.”
No kidding, Harker thought.
“So what do you want?”
“To get oooooooout.”
Harker shook her head. “Impossible. I couldn't help you. The President would have me killed, plain and simple. He'd send me back to prison for even thinking about it. No way.”
“Booooooy or giiiiiiirl?”
“There's too much security.”
“Booooooy or giiiiiiirl?”
Harker could picture Shirley’s face.
“A girl. A little girl.”
“I can maaaaake a beautiful giiiiiirl.”
“I can't. There's the door here, plus the two coded gates in the Red Arm. There's also a camera right over my shoulder.”
“Give meeee the cooooooodes.”
Harker thought it over. That couldn't be traced back to her. And if Bub got out, so what? The demon had a right to be free. He didn't deserve to be locked up here any more than Harker did. In fact, if Bub escaped, Harker might even be allowed to leave. No more Bub, no more Project Samhain.
But even more important than that was the thought of having a child. If just for a few stolen hours. It had been so long. The feedings, the diapers, those little fingers and toes...
“I give you the door code, you make me a child,” Harker confirmed.
Bub nodded.
“The child first,” Harker said.
“I neeeeeeeed proof.”
“How?”
“You’ll think of soooooomething.”
Harker would think of something. Suddenly nothing else mattered to her. During her trial she'd been evaluated by a court-appointed shrink who did a thoroughly incompetent job, but who had managed to say something interesting. Harker had shown no remorse. And why should she have? She loved Shirley more than her birth parents ever could have. But because Harker never felt bad for her actions, the judge decided she could never be rehabilitated.
And never was a very long time.
“Everything you told the priest,” Harker said, “that was all bullshit, wasn't it?”
“Whyyyyyyyyyy?”
“I need to know if I can trust you. Maybe if I let you escape you'll try to murder us all.”
Bub laughed, a giant frog croaking.
“Truuuuuust meeeeee.”
Harker decided that she didn't care what Bub's plans were. She was going to help him no matter what.
“Okay. I'll need some time to think of something. We'll
also need some way to turn off the video camera. I don't want to get caught.”
“I’ll take caaaaare of that. Tell Sun I want two sheeeeeeeeep.”
“Fine.”
Harker checked her watch. She had about an hour. How could she somehow prove to Bub that she was giving him the real code, other than taking him out of his habitat and showing him?
Showing him.
“I'll see you at lunch time,” Harker said. She left Red 14, hoping she'd be able to make her plan work.
*
Dr. Frank Belgium was oblivious to the exchange. He was busy multi-tasking on the Cray. Switching focus from nuclear to mitochondrial DNA, Belgium used restriction enzymes to cut some specific sequences, then used a PCR—polymerase chain reaction—machine to amplify the sample for an STR test. The DNA molecules actually went through channels in a microchip and then passed through a laser beam, getting 'fingerprinted' in the process. This would give him a tagged sequence that could be checked against samples from other life forms in the database.
At the same time, he was using some proteomic tools to identify the amino acids in the serum sample he took from the re-animated sheep's leg. Genes were sort of like factories that could build themselves. DNA coded for protein. Some of the protein was used to make things like cells and antibodies, but some of it was used to make enzymes and hormones. These were chemicals that caused biochemical reactions within the body.
For instance, insulin was a hormone that lowered blood sugar, and a lack of it resulted in diabetes. HGH was responsible for human growth, and lack of it caused dwarfism, or too much of it caused NBA players. Enzymes speeded biochemical reactions—saliva contained enzymes that helped break down starches, aiding in digestion, and the restriction enzymes used so often in molecular science were chemicals that functioned like tiny pairs of scissors, cutting DNA molecules at specific sequences. These were essential to genetic research, because a single strand of DNA could have billions of base pairs, making it unwieldy indeed.
Belgium was convinced that Bub's power of resurrection was either hormonal or enzymic, and in order to prove it he had to identify the proteins. Since proteins were made of amino acids, that was what he searched for. Some of the tools he used were AACompIdent, PeptIdent, SWISS-PROT, and TrEMBLE; all extremely sophisticated amino acid identifiers.
“Let meeee oooooout,” Bub said, startling Belgium to the point that he almost fell out of his chair.
