"Sour? I don't think genes work that way, Sef."
"Well, that's how Bianca explained it and she ought to know—she's the geneticist." Closing the book, she stared into space. "Bee says Doctor Jensen was infected. Her children too. I only knew her about a week, but she was the nicest person. I often wonder if her gene went bad and that's why she left." She looked into the engineer's startled face. "Oh, you've never come into contact with her, Dane. That was long before you arrived. She was the Director of Tartarus when I first came to the island. You should have heard all the people around here when she resigned. You would have thought they'd lost their own mother. Why such a horrible disease would be allowed to pass from one generation to the next before somebody finally does something about it is beyond me." Her head shook back and forth with sympathy. "Anyway, Bianca says she'll find a cure or else."
"Good for Bianca," Dane said.
Sefura's eyes flicked up at the trace of irony in his voice. She could feel her brows drawing together.
"No, no, I . . . I really do mean that, Sef," he said. "So, what are you deciphering then?" he continued without pause.
Reaching up, she tapped his nose. "You are a nosy one, Dane Wyland. So far it appears to be a list of genealogies. See," she said, thumbing open the notebook at random.
She watched while he scanned down the list of names and turned the page to the next one. He flipped the page back. "That's all? Just names?"
"Well, every once-in-a-while, it gets really exciting." Her face crinkled with laughter. "I get to decipher a number." She fanned pages until her eye caught what she searched for. "Here's one—number 3592306. Isn't that interesting?"
He stared at the number. "It’s exciting, all right. I can see how you could lose yourself completely in that book." He patted her knee then stood up. "Time for me to get back to work." He ambled back to the glass container. "Won't be long, George, and you'll have a new house to roam around in," he called over his shoulder as he picked up a bright blue spray can.
From the barred cage, topaz eyes followed Dane's every move. Now and again the film lowered and a soft chuck-chuck gurgled from the creature's mouth. Sitting on the floor beside the cage, open book on her lap forgotten, Sefura watched Dane's brown hand shake the liquid-filled can. Resting against her thigh, a music cube played the soft strains of a Viennese waltz while her mind played memories: their first date, the laughter, the first kiss, the gradual sharing of dreams and disappointments. That's when he had told her about his best friend—a girl he grew up with, fell in love with, watched marry another man. "She was funny and sweet and compassionate—just like you, Sef," he'd said. "I lost someone important to me once, but I won't a second time."
How lucky I am, she thought, as he flashed her a smile. Whoever that girl was, she was a fool for letting him go. From the corner of her eye, she saw George lift his head and felt his topaz gleam.
"What are you smiling at?" Dane paused the shaking action.
"Nothing." Her cheeks felt hot and she lowered her eyes. In the silence, she raised her gaze to his.
He set the container on the small worktable beside the oblong cage. Squatting beside her, he brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead and gently stroked the thick ripples cascading to her waist. Laying her cheek against his arm, Sefura thought about the extra time she had taken with her hair that morning and how irritated Bianca became. Dane loved her hair down and she had brushed an extra ten minutes to bring the golden glow forward.
"I love you, Sefura." he said, tilting her head back with the tips of his fingers. "I would do anything to keep you safe."
From the cage, the rhythmic chucking began to staccato with rising pitch. The tapered head swung to and fro—flashed forward.
"Damn!" Dane jerked back and grabbed his arm.
"What happened?" Horrified, Sefura stared at the blood trickling down his arm and onto the floor.
"I got too close to the bars." He leaped to his feet, strode to the sink, and rinsed the blood from his arm. Sefura followed and grabbed a clear bottle with a soft brush cap. She quickly brushed the cut, squeezing the bottle as she went. The liquid dried immediately. The wound pulled together. The bleeding stopped. Sefura stormed to the cage.
"Sefura," Dane yelled. "Get away from the cage!" Reaching her side, he yanked her back. "You know he's unpredictable."
"George would never—"
"It's not George, dammit. How many times do you have to be told that?"
"But—"
"No buts. Just stay away from the cage."
Dane stomped back to the glass case, picked up the can from the table and sprayed all sides of the container. Sefura watched until he began to work the thin liquid into a smooth surface, then she returned to her deciphering.
At last, he stepped back. "That does it," he said. "It'll be ready for the sand in twenty minutes."
She looked up from the book. "Are you sure that will hold him? He can get pretty riled up when Bianca's around and that looks awfully fragile. You saw how he bent that cage bar."
"It'll hold him all right," Dane said, casting a satisfied glare toward the iron cage. "That liquid bonds with the glass and gives it strength. You could crash an airship into it without causing so much as a dimple. Don't ask me how it works," he said as she opened her mouth. "I don't know and I don't care. It works for at least a few hundred years. That ought to be long enough."
"What happens then?" Her voice rang with curiosity.
"The manufacturer says the product leeches out and the glass becomes plain old glass again. Stronger than ordinary stuff, but still glass—and I don't know how they know."
"Oh." Her mouth clicked shut and her glance dropped to the spot on the page that her finger marked.
Whistling, Dane cleaned his work area and threw away the empty can, replacing it with two full sprayers—one red and one blue. He glanced at his watch, ran his hands along the sides of the oblong structure, and nodded his head. "It's time to put the sand in."
Sefura's head tilted to the side in silent question.
"No, George won't get sand in his eyes or up his nose. Have you noticed the eye film that slides down?"
"Of course. He does that a lot."
"If you watch him for a while, you'll also see him pull a skin flap over the nostrils. Last month I caught him flexing it back and forth as if he'd developed a new muscle that needed exercise."
Sefura glanced first at George, then at Dane. "Are you putting in comfortable sand? If he has to live in it, it should be comfortable."
A sound closely akin to a chuckle emanated from the corner of the iron cage.
Dane stared at the creature. "He'll never know one way or the other. What difference does it make?"
"It makes a difference to me."
"I know, Sef. You've told me that a dozen or two times."
"Well?"
"It's as small a grain as I could locate. Sugar white and sugar fine."
"Good." She knew she was making much ado about nothing, that George wouldn't know or care what his quarters were like. Nonetheless, the creature had once been a man and deserved to be remembered as such. She resumed reading.
Dane strolled to a wall console and punched a button.
"Maintenance," a tinny voice answered.
"You can bring in the sand." Affirmation received, he punched off the button. Thirty minutes later, the oblong container was ready for its occupant.
Once more, Dane glanced at his watch. "I can't believe how quickly the time has passed. Bianca and Munoz should be here any minute."
"Oh, Lord." Sefura dropped the book and began furiously twisting her hair into braids. "Bianca hates my hair hanging down my back. Especially when Pope Munoz is in town, which seems to be a lot lately." Sefura grimaced. "She says he has trouble keeping his hands off me when my hair's down." Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling. "If she only knew the times he's tried to corner me when my hair's fully coiled."
The creature growled softly.
The young ma
n whirled. "What?!"
"It's nothing, Dane," she said. "He does the same thing to me that she does to you: little innuendoes, an accidental brushing against the arm, seductive stares. You know." She saw the blush flood his face. "It's a game they play with each other," Sefura continued. She gave a final twist to her hair and thick braids lay coiled neatly around her face.
"When . . . where . . . I've never seen him come on to you like that." Dane sputtered a few unintelligible words then closed his mouth with a click.
She raised onto tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "That's because he's more discreet than Bianca."
The ominous growl rumbled louder then fell to silence.
Sefura glanced toward the creature as did Dane. The films were lowered, blotting out the topaz.
"I know exactly what you mean, old man," Dane muttered. "I don't like it either."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing, Sef. Thinking out loud, I guess."
Grabbing the book and music cube, Sefura dashed to the outer laboratory, plopped onto Bianca's chair, and opened the book. She listened to the low sounds emanating from the inner room. Dane talked to himself a lot. She wondered if she would ever get used to that.
Chapter 57
George
Fascinated, George watched the engineer check each control switch on the container. Dane adjusted a temperature dial and stepped back, hands on his hips. He whistled tunelessly as he walked around the cage for the sixth time. He's built one helluva contraption, George thought. Too bad all of the man's hard work would be for naught.
Bianca strolled through the door and his head swung in her direction. He smiled. Soon, bitch, he thought. Soon. The nose flaps closed and opened twice in quick succession. Would she smell the same dead? He watched her stroll to the container.
"Nice, Dane." She smiled appreciatively. "It's perfect for viewing and certainly large enough to give him growing room. How do we feed him?"
How do we feed him, George mimicked in his mind. His snout drew back. I know, bitch. Ask me.
"This switch throws a barrier shield across the open space—same substance as the sides." Dane pointed a finger up. "There's a panel on top that slides back. Drop anything you want him to have through that panel. Once it has resealed itself, open the shield and it's his for the taking."
"Hmmm, clever."
"I can't take credit for that one. I borrowed the basic idea from an air lock system used on the old spaceships back in 2010."
"It's still clever," she said. She sauntered around the container, her finger tapping against the glass. "Raphael, leave Sefura to her deciphering and come take a look at the finished product," she called out.
Munoz also tapped the glass. "Is this going to be strong enough, Dane?"
"Absolutely, sir. Guaranteed for a few hundred years."
Munoz stroked his chin. "Would something like this be able to handle the temperature of in-vaulting?"
Dane shook his head. "No, Sir. The process used here will take all the heat you want to give it, but it will shatter into dust if exposed to extreme cold," Dane said.
"What about a dry process?"
"As long as you don't subject it to low temperatures it doesn't matter—wet or dry."
Munoz flashed a glance to Bianca. George saw her barely nod, but before he could catch her thought, it was gone. Now what the hell's going on? he wondered. He hunkered against the floor of the cage with his misshapen legs pulled high against his chest and his snout covered by the short arms.
Bianca prepared a sedative pole and sauntered to the iron cage. "It's time to get you into your new home, my pet," she cooed.
George's muscles tensed. He could feel the power flowing along his veins. The scaled chest inhaled. Closer, bitch. Come closer.
She took a step forward and bent down. "But first, a little injection to put you to sleep."
The topaz eyes snapped open. With a howl of fury, the animal flashed into action; the bone-edged jaw, honed to razor sharpness by scaled arms, jabbed through the bars again and again, the slashing claws grabbed and pulled. Iron bars crinkled.
Bianca jumped back. A fleck of steel peeled from a bar, flew across the short distance, and pricked her face just below her eye. Reaching up, she patted a finger against the spot and stared at the blood on the fingertip. She shrugged.
"If you insist, my pet. Sefura, bring me the rod. Now." Her eyes never left the gyrating body banging against the sides of the cage. "Sefura." Her voice rose.
"I'll get it," Munoz said. Before Bianca could speak, he twisted on his heel and marched from the room. Two seconds later, he handed her the weapon. Switching the sedative pole to her left hand, she grabbed the rod with her right and thumbed the instrument on. George saw barbarous pleasure suffuse her face.
She was coming.
It was time.
In silence, he crouched, his feet braced against the iron behind him, his gaze watching her every move.
Leg muscles rippling beneath the fitted skirt, her eyes glowed as she approached, never once wavering from her target. She raised the rod, paused just as her thrust began. Her body straightened. Without turning around she spoke into the deathly stillness.
"You gentlemen will leave the lab. Close the panel behind you."
Munoz said, "Bianca, I don't think—"
"Unless you, too, hunger to taste the rod, you'll leave now," Bianca spoke softly.
A moment later, the panel soughed closed. She and George were alone.
"Now, pet." She released the pain.
Now, bitch. He released the rage.
Chapter 58
Munoz
In the outer lab, Dane pointed at Sefura and yelled to Munoz, "Get her out of here." He spun on his heel, eyes searching for anything he could use as a weapon.
"Can't. Bianca has the keys to the corridor exit."
"Then take Sef's, dammit. Just get her out of here!"
From where she slumped against Bianca's desk Sefura looked at Munoz through eyes glazed with shock. "I don't have them anymore. Bee took them back like she always does."
"There's nothing in this lab that's powerful enough to stop that animal," Munoz said, watching Dane open and close cabinets, search through drawers.
Dane paused and held up a finger.
"Listen."
"I don't hear anything," Sefura whispered.
"Exactly. It's too quiet." He glanced at Munoz. "Do you think she—"
Then it came: the sounds, filling the room with demonic fury and pealing laughter. Bianca screamed with pain and the roaring tumult intensified. Dane pulled Sefura to her feet and held her tight to his chest, covering her ears with his arms. Frozen with fear, they stood like statues in a museum, and waited.
As abruptly as it started, the raging fury ceased.
Barely breathing, they watched the paneled doorway, listened to the silence flowing around their tortured ears.
The door slid open.
Right leg dragging, Bianca pulled herself through. Blood streamed from a dozen wounds on her arms, her legs, her face. One hand clutched her left side, trying to stem a red flow. Her head lifted defiantly as she glanced from one stunned face to another.
"He is ready to be placed in his new container now. Raphael, if you will help Dane do that . . . and hurry. I don't know how long the sedative will last. He yanked the pole from my hand before I completed the injection."
Sefura raced forward, double-folded towel in hand. Bianca released the flowing slash long enough to grab the towel and press it tightly to her side. "He broke through one of the bars," she said to no one in particular. "He broke . . . " She fainted.
"Christ!" Dane leaped for the open doorway.
"You'll have to handle her, Sefura," Munoz said. "If that sedative wears off before we get George into the container, he'll kill us all." He followed Dane into the room.
The two men stared at the red-splattered walls, at the pool of blood beside the cage, at the unconscious creature whose upper torso sprawled
on the floor, its hips jammed between the remaining bars. Nearby, the sedative pole, its tip ripped off, dripped liquid from the broken end. Across the room was the hated rod.
Kneeling beside the animal, Dane examined the cage. He looked up at Munoz. "If she hadn't managed to get some of that sedative into him, he would've had her. Look at this."
Munoz squatted down beside Dane and let out a low whistle. Not one, but three bars were missing. A fourth rattled loosely when Dane touched it with his finger.
"We're going to need maintenance to help," Dane said. "That container's nearly fifteen feet high."
Using the sweep hand on his watch as a timer, Munoz counted the slow chest heaves as the animal breathed. "He's not down deep—we need more sedative." Leaping to his feet, he ran to glass-fronted cabinets and searched through vials of fluid. "They're all marked with numbers—I can't tell which one is which."
"We don't have time to try to figure it out—we've got to get him into the container. Sefura, call maintenance," Dane yelled. "Tell them to get a sling winch down here on the triple, and I mean triple, unless they want to face death incarnate."
"They can't get in. Whenever Bee's in the lab with George, she keeps the door to maintenance locked too." Sefura's voice trembled with fear.
"In her pocket, Sef. The keys are in her pocket," Munoz called out.
A moment later, they could hear the girl's frantic instructions on the maintenance com line.
Three minutes later, Amory Ryan and Harvey Blakely rode into the room atop a flimsy looking machine shaped like an inverted L. A canvas sling dangled from the crossbar. Munoz felt a foundering sickness in the pit of his stomach as he looked from the winch to the creature.
"It'll carry three times the weight of that thing on the floor, Your Holiness," Harvey said as he twisted knobs. The narrow platform lowered until the canvass lay flat beside the creature. "It's getting the damn thing onto the sling that's going to be the problem." He turned to his partner. "Hand me that laser so I can get these cage bars out of the way."
Shadows in the House With Twelve Rooms Page 37
