by Lee Goldberg, Scott Nicholson, J A Konrath, J Carson Black,
“What?”
“I want the inteeeernet.”
Belgium had already made the decision that he wouldn't let Bub out again. He knew Bub had lied during the interrogation. Bub had claimed to have never read the bible, but Frank had checked the cookies in the Temp file, and several of the websites Bub had been extensively surfing were biblical. That made everything the demon had said suspect.
Belgium wasn't sure why Bub would lie—he'd cured Race's wife and been friendly to everyone—but he decided he wasn't going to give Bub access to any more information.
The last 24 hours had been gut-wrenching for Belgium. He destroyed the video recordings of Bub leaving his habitat, but he was still worried the infraction would be discovered. He was even more worried once he realized Bub was lying. If Bub had done anything harmful, Belgium would consider himself to blame. After his screw-up at BioloGen, Frank didn't want to be responsible for anyone getting hurt ever again. He would sequence Bub's genome without the demon's help, no matter how long it took.
“I'm sorry, Bub. The server is down. It happens all the time.”
Bub didn't answer right away.
“Are you lyyyyyyyying?” he finally asked. The tone in his voice seemed to bore into Frank’s bones.
“Hmm? No no no, of course not, Bub. Our server is under construction. Maybe they're doing an upgrade.”
“Use another server.”
“We don't have a contract with another server. Besides, we couldn't access another server without using our current server.”
“I wish to see.”
“There's nothing to see, simple as that.”
Belgium buried his face in his notes, pretending to be in deep concentration.
“I'll telllllllll them,” Bub said,
“Tell them what, Bub?”
“Telllllllllll them that you let me oooooooout.”
Belgium turned away from the monitor and faced Bub. He couldn’t believe how scared he felt.
Don’t show fear, he said to himself.
“I made a mistake letting you out. Twice. I won't do it again. If you want Internet time, you'll have to talk with Race. I'm sure he'll give you the world, after what you did with Helen.”
Bub laughed. This confused Belgium, who wasn't aware he'd said anything funny.
He decided to finish up in Green 4. There was a computer there, and he could access the Cray without having to deal with Bub.
“Enjoy the time you haaaaaaaaaave,” Bub said as Frank left.
Belgium didn't know what that meant, but he didn't like the sound of it. Not one bit.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“That was the last one,” Sun said. “For a scientist, his organizational skills suck.”
She and Andy had been in Red 4, fast forwarding through the surveillance DVDs of Bub since he'd been put into the habitat.
They’d just zipped through Bub’s first feeding, which was gory even at 32X speed. After the horrifying meal, Bub appeared to say something. Andy shuttled back and let it play at normal.
“Messy eater,” Race said on the monitor.
“Ba'ax u k'aat u ya'al le t'aano?” Bub replied.
Andy translated the Mayan dialect in his head. “Bub was asking Race What does that expression mean?”
“So he didn’t know English yet?”
“Apparently not.”
They fast-forwarded through the two times Race went into the dwelling, changed discs, and sped through more eating and sleeping.
The discs were not labeled and they weren't in sequential order. This was annoying, because Sun and Andy had to go through each disc to find the current one, and it turned out that one was missing.
An hour wasted. Andy picked up the phone and dialed Red 14.
“No answer,” he said.
He tried Dr. Belgium's room, Blue 10. The doctor wasn’t there, either.
“Maybe he's the one that took the disc,” Sun said. “He's in charge of them.”
“Could be. But it could have been anyone. At least now we can be fairly certain that the disc is intentionally missing. Someone is trying to cover something up.”
“So what does it prove?”
“More proof that Bub was lying, I guess. I don't know, I'm an interpreter, not a detective.”
“Why would someone be helping Bub lie?”
Andy leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “Isn’t it obvious? People make deals with the devil all the time.”
Sun could see his point. She’d only been here a week, but she’d seen enough to accurately describe the Samhain staff as dysfunctional. She stood up and stretched.
“I'm going to Red 3, put some time in. I recall reading something in there that didn't make sense. I can't remember what the hell it was.”
Andy said, “I'll be in Red 6 with the capsule. I want to check the Maya glyphs against the Egyptian ones, see if they say the same thing.”
“I've got to feed Bub soon. Wanna meet me in Orange 12 in say, forty minutes?”
“Sure. I'm hungry myself. We can grab a bite.”
Andy held open the door for Sun, something that Steven used to do for her all the time. She smiled. The memory no longer hurt.
“Hi, Dr. Harker,” Andy said. The physician was standing in the hall, outside the door.
Eavesdropping? Sun wondered.
“Did you examine Helen yet?” Andy asked.
Dr. Harker looked briefly at Andy, surprise on her face. Then she looked at the floor.
“Not yet,” Harker said.
“What's with the video camera?” Sun pointed at Harker’s hand.
Harker was holding a palm-sized camcorder, one of the ultra-small models with the flip out screen. She was trying unsuccessfully to put it into her lab coat pocket.
“I borrowed it from the AV room. I was going to take some footage of Bub and analyze it.”
“Analyze it,” Sun intoned. She made no attempt to keep the incredulity out of her voice.
Harker nodded.
“That blinking green light.” Andy pointed to the camera. “That means it's taping.”
Harker brought the camera up to eye level and stared at it as if it were an alien. Andy pressed the red button on the grip and the green light stopped blinking.
“Thanks,” Harker mumbled. “When does Bub eat?”
“We're going to feed him at noon,” Sun answered.
“Bub said... he told me... that he was very hungry and he wanted two sheep for lunch.”
Harker wasn't speaking to Sun. She was speaking to a point over her right shoulder. How could anyone become a doctor with people skills that were this bad?
“Okay,” Sun said. “We'll bring him two.”
Andy briefly touched Sun's arm, and then walked across the hall and disappeared into Red 6. Harker avoided looking at Sun and made her way to the gate, fumbling with the code.
Sun watched her go. She disliked Harker, but now dislike had turned to outright suspicion. Harker did the barest minimum to get by at Samhain. She'd also taken a less than active interest in Bub, when everyone else had been buzzing like bees since the demon awoke. Why, all of the sudden, did she want to videotape him? Could this have something to do with the missing surveillance disc?
After almost a minute of fumbling, Harker made it through the gate. Perhaps I should tell Race about Dr. Harker's new video fetish, Sun thought. Whether Race would care or not was anyone's guess, but it was his show and he should be kept informed on what everyone was doing.
Unless Race was the one helping the demon out. After all, Bub just cured his wife. Or at least, he seemed to.
Sun tried to clear her mind and concentrate on the latest problem at hand; Red 3. Somewhere, in all of that paperwork, she'd seen something that was important. It tugged at her subconscious—perhaps one of the tests run on Bub. There was something that she'd missed and she was determined to find it.
Sun passed Dr. Harker again, heading into the Octopus, and subconsciously note
d that once again the green light was flashing on Harker’s camcorder.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bub had to die.
Rabbi Shotzen pondered and prayed and pondered and prayed, and that was the conclusion he came to. That was G-d's will. It was also a matter of survival.
Whether Bub was a demon or not didn't matter. If he were Lucifer, as he claimed, then Shotzen would be doing the world a favor by destroying him. If he were something else, at the very least Shotzen would be saving Judaism. Father Thrist was proof.
Thrist was the most skeptical man Shotzen had ever met. If Bub had won him over that easily, he would have little difficulty convincing the rest of the world. All Bub had to do is go on television and talk about Jesus being the messiah. The Jews, the chosen people of God, would again be persecuted in the name of Christ, this time to extinction.
The Rabbi knew what would happen. There were two billion Christians in the world, three hundred million in North America alone. Muslims numbered over one billion. Jews? Fourteen million worldwide. The opposition outnumbered them two hundred to one. If Bub were to go public, spouting off about Jesus Christ, the repercussions would be enormous. The US might cease support of Israel, which could very well mean its destruction. In America, the vandalism of synagogues and the harassment of Jews would escalate and violence would no doubt erupt.
Shotzen couldn't let that happen. Christ was not moschiac. It was impossible. The messiah was to be of Davidic lineage. If Christ were the son of G-d, how could he be descended from David? G-d was one being, not a trinity as the Catholics said. That was sacrilege.
So he only had one course of action. Bub had to be destroyed. Just as David had slain Goliath, Shotzen had to destroy a giant of his own. It was treason, he knew. The United States might very well execute him. But if he got out word to Jews worldwide, he believed the support would be total. He would truly be the savior of his people. They might even embrace him as a hero. And his memoirs, so long thought to be a pipe dream, might some day be studied at yeshivot around the globe, alongside with the work Rabbi Moses ben Maimon and Rabbi Akiba ben Joseph.
Normally, he would consult a bais din, a house of justice consisting of three Rabbis, to discuss the legal points of killing Bub. The Talmud Tractate Sanhedrin discussed setting up a court to try crimes, but this only applied to humans, of which Bub was not. Jewish law did allow for killing the pursuer without a bais din. In fact, if there is an obvious threat, G-d commands Jews to respond with mortal judgment.
Bub was an obvious threat to 14 million Jews, so Shotzen considered himself justified in destroying him.
Bub might kill him, of course. But he was willing to take the risk to save his people.
Shotzen outlined the plan in his memoirs; should he not survive there would at least be a record of his bravery and sacrifice. His first idea was to detonate the bombs that had been surgically implanted in Bub's head and chest. But the trigger for them was in Yellow 4, and it had a locked door with a keypad entrance. Only Race could get in there.
Shotzen decided the next best way to destroy Bub was with fire. The flames could possibly even set off the bombs. He could sneak into the habitat while Bub slept. But what to use?
The rabbi harkened back to his youth and remembered a hate crime; a synagogue that had burned to the ground. Vandals had thrown a bottle filled with kerosene at the front door. That kind of incendiary weapon had a name, Shotzen recalled. A Molotov cocktail.
Samhain had a back-up generator that ran on gasoline. Shotzen could fill an empty schnapps bottle with gas, stuff a sock down the bottle neck as a wick, and he'd have a fire bomb. One should be enough; after all, one destroyed an entire two story synagogue. Shotzen decided to make two, just in case.
He had half a bottle of schnapps plus the empty from the night before. Shotzen indulged in a quick slug to calm his nerves, and then dumped the rest of the liquor down the sink. He placed both bottles in his pillowcase and left his room.
He walked quickly and with purpose. The Octopus was empty. Shotzen took the Yellow Arm to room 8, the generator room. He turned on the lights.
The generator sat silently in the corner, a large green appliance the size of several refrigerators. Off to the right was a gasoline pump, an older version of the modern day gas station model. Shotzen set down the pillowcase and removed the bottles. The gasoline shot out of the nozzle like a garden hose, and the rabbi spilled as much as he bottled. Gas evaporated quickly, so Shotzen didn't worry himself over it.
He capped the bottles, put them back in the pillowcase, and headed for the Red Arm. He would check on Bub. If the demon was asleep, he would proceed. If not, he'd stick around until he had the chance.
Shotzen had trouble with the gates; his hands were shaking. When he approached Red 14, he opened the door just an inch and peeked inside. Dr. Harker was standing in front of the habitat, talking with the demon.
Rabbi Shotzen closed the door silently and contemplated his next move. He went through the first gate and decided to hold fort in Red 7. It was a small storage room. There were various cleaning supplies scattered around. Shotzen set the bottles down next to a collection of mop heads, then sat down and removed his socks. He unscrewed the bottle tops and stuffed one sock into each bottle neck. Then he tilted the bottles upside down, saturating the makeshift wicks with gas.
He had a several disposable lighters in his pocket. In his room was a collection of over thirty. His wife Reba had smoked, and Shotzen's method of discouraging her was to constantly take her lighters. She never did quit, but for some reason he'd never gotten rid of them. Strangely, they were all he had left to remind him of Reba. The get granted her possession of everything, down to the last photograph.
Shotzen said a quick blessing, wishing her the best wherever she was. He bore her no ill will. His sterility and his alcoholism were more than any woman should have had to bear.
He took out a lighter and flicked it once. Twice. No flame.
He tried a second one and it worked instantly. Shotzen adjusted the flame to its greatest height, almost two inches. Then he shook it to make sure there was plenty of fluid left.
There was.
He heard voices in the hallway. Sun and Andy. He could also make out the footfalls of sheep. They were bringing Bub his lunch. Good. Bub usually took a nap after eating. That would be the time to strike.
Shotzen checked his compass, something he'd gotten from Race and always carried around, and faced east. He took his siddur—his prayer book—from his pocket and read the afternoon service. Then, while still standing, he began to pray the Amidah. He prayed aloud and with kavanah—intent—but he kept his voice a whisper.
When the prayer ended he began to shuckle, rocking back and forth, davening to Adonai for judgement, purpose, and strength.
He was going to need it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dr. Julie Harker sat in the back of the room and watched impatiently as Sun led the two sheep into Bub's habitat. Andy Dennison, the interpreter, was helping her.
She’s screwing him, Harker decided. Didn't waste much time either; the guy had only been here a few days. It reminded Harker of her mother. She used to sleep around too. Harker couldn't count all the times she was taken to different men's houses and left in front of the television while her mom hurried to the bedroom. One more horrible memory from a horrible childhood.
Harker turned on the camera and videotaped the hideous spectacle, giving further credence to her earlier lie. Bub got down to business quickly. As soon as the sheep entered his domain Bub had grabbed each by the head. With a quick twist of his giant talons he broke their necks in unison, and then began to feast.
As Bub gorged himself, Sun engaged him in some brief conversation, asking why his hunger had increased. Bub explained that a creature of his high metabolism needed a lot of calories to maintain itself. Bub had only learned English yesterday, Harker noted, and was already lying like a pro.
The demon ate quickly, stuffing the final
bit of the first sheep into his gaping maw only minutes after beginning. Through the zoom of the camcorder lens Harker could see that Bub was able to unhinge his lower jaw like a snake to get the big pieces down.
He began to chow down on the second sheep, causing Harker to stop taping and shoot him a look. The extra sheep was to become Harker's little girl. Had she been tricked?
Sun and Andy neglected to stay for the second course, and when they left Bub stopped eating.
“That's supposed to be my child,” Harker snapped as she approached the habitat. “You're eating my baby.”
“Don’t woooooooorry,” Bub cooed.
“I don't want a daughter with bite marks out of her.”
“She'll be fiiiiiiiiiine.”
“I want her perfect.”
“She'll be fiiiiiiiiiine. Give me the cooooooodes”
Harker held the camcorder up to the Plexiglas. She pressed the stop button and rewound the tape.
“I recorded myself punching in the code, so you know it works. See for yourself.”
She faced the viewing screen at Bub and let the tape play. Bub kept perfectly still while he watched, like a cobra before it strikes.
“The second gaaaaaaate.”
“The same code,” Harker stated matter-of-factly. “I would have kept taping, but I was almost caught.”
Bub eyed her closely. Julie wasn't quite sure why she lied. Perhaps it was because having a nine foot demon running around loose wasn't the smartest thing to allow. Perhaps it was because she didn't entirely trust Bub to make her a little girl. If all worked out, Harker might give Bub the second code later on. Maybe in another deal. Harker would enjoy having a little boy for her daughter to play with.
“We have a deal, right?” Harker narrowed her eyes. There was no way Bub could tell she was lying. Harker was too good at deception. She'd cared for one for nearly a year.
“What color eeeeeeeeeyes?”
Harker blinked. She'd never considered it.
“Blue eyes. And blonde hair. Curly blonde hair.”
