Solomon was becoming irritated by Bram’s futile attempt at communicating with the fungi. “It doesn’t understand you, Waters. Stop wasting time and help me save Gloria.”
“You’re wrong, Chavez,” he snapped. “Not only does it understand us, it’s frightened of you in particular.” Bram closed his eyes halfway and appeared to be listening to something only he could hear. “There’s something in your blood that can hurt it.” He faced the cluster once more. “Show yourself to my companion. Let him see what I see. If you don’t, I’ll cut him and splash his blood all over you.”
Solomon’s eyebrows rose. “You’ll do what?”
Bram remained silent, staring daggers at the fungal cluster.
Had Waters gone mad? Would his delusion turn violent? Solomon wondered. “Quit talking nonsense, Waters, and—” The air around the cluster shimmered and took shape, transforming into the image of a kindly old man with long white hair and matching beard. As this happened, the snake around Gloria vanished. Her body was indeed engulfed in fungal tendrils. No longer intimidated by an illusory snake, Solomon rushed to Gloria’s side to tear at the deadly fungi.
“Please, stop what you are doing,” the old man calmly requested. “We will release your female companion, though it will do you no good. She is too far gone to save.”
More out of shock than anything else, Solomon stopped tearing at the fungi and stared at the old man. This can’t be possible! “Y-you spoke,” he gasped in amazement.
“Your statement is correct. We are capable of many things … one of which is mercy. Please catch your companion when we release her.”
The cluster that was feeding on Gloria extracted its tendrils from her skin and disentangled itself from her body, dropping limp into Solomon’s waiting arms. Lowering her gently to the ground, he fixed his gaze on the image of the old man, his eyes ablaze with anger. Bram dropped down beside him and grasped Gloria’s hand.
“She’s still alive, Dr. Chavez.”
Solomon barely heard him. How could this be? he wondered. How was it possible for a plant to talk, let alone speak of mercy? Such a thing flew in the face of everything he knew about the natural world. The old man was watching him intently, his head tilted slightly to one side.
“You are correct, Doctor,” the illusion stated. “We are different. We possess a consciousness that allows us to think in a coherent manner. Like us, you and Bram Waters are different. The female, however, is ordinary. I respect your concern for her welfare, but she is doomed. It would be a mercy to her if you allow us to finish our meal.”
“Over my dead body!” snapped Bram, rifling through the contents of Gloria’s supply pack. “What’s that thing talking about, Doc? What’s it mean by saying you’re different?”
“I, um … have no idea.”
The old man smiled broadly. “Of course you do, Dr. Chavez. Your immune system produces a chemical that is toxic to us … a side effect of the virus that caused your immortality.”
Bram jerked his head up and blurted, “What the hell?”
20
“I’ll take that,” Richard said, reaching for the admiral’s CID.
The Command Interlink Device had slipped from the admiral’s pocket and clattered to the hanger floor as she was being moved out of the transport vehicle. An acolyte assigned to treat her injuries had picked up the device. Hesitant to accept orders from a male, she looked Richard up and down before reluctantly placing the rectangular device in Richard’s outstretched hand.
The stretcher transporting the admiral across the hangar hovered forty inches off the ground. Two medical attendants, positioned on either side of the stretcher, attended to the admiral as it floated toward a preprogrammed foldway arch. Richard and the others followed close behind.
When the group reached the foldway, the attendant who picked up the admiral’s CID held up her hand and stopped before entering the arch. “I’m sorry, but this is as far as you go.”
“Bullshit,” Richard snapped. “I want to see where she’s being—”
The attendant cut him off. “Please contain your emotions, Commander! Even in ancient Earth hospitals, certain wings were off limits to family and friends. I appreciate your concern, but let us proceed with the job of caring for the admiral. Rest assured, she’s in the best possible hands. You’ll be informed of the status of her condition the moment her injuries have been treated. They must be attended to without further delay.”
Richard felt a gentle hand rest lightly on his forearm. Looking down, he saw that it belonged to Lorna Threman.
“Let them do their job, Richard. You should return to your apartment and await further updates. Better yet, you and your companions could come to my office: it contains an anteroom where I entertain guests. During this moment of crisis, it’s best to find comfort in each other’s fellowship. While you wait, I’ll arrange for a servant to bring refreshments and—” she suddenly paused, a faraway look in her eye.
As Richard studied the change, Admiral Axelrod was taken through the foldway. He turned to see blackness where a light-green corridor once lay.
“Damn!” he barked. Furious over being distracted, Richard spun on his heel to give Lorna a piece of his mind. When he saw the troubled expression on her face he held his anger in check. “What is it, Chancellor?”
She held up her index finger. A few seconds later, with a look of grave concern, she shifted her attention back to him. “Richard, I have some bad news to report. The Lord has just informed me that the vehicle carrying Dr. Solomon Chavez, Ezral Magliss, and the other members of your crew has gone missing in a remote section of the Yggdrasil Forest. A search party is on its way to their last known whereabouts and should be arriving in the next half hour or so.”
Richard’s mounting anger suddenly switched to concern—combined with a rising suspicion: the admiral attacked and Solomon Chavez gone missing on the same day? Something wasn’t kosher. He considered three possibilities: coincidence, incompetence, and a plot to weaken their ranks. Richard put little stock in coincidence and, having observed New Terran efficiency, didn’t believe it was incompetence … so that left a plot to weaken their ranks. He didn’t want to consider that option, but what other choice did he have?
“How soon can you arrange for me and two of my security officers to join the search?”
Lorna removed her hand from his arm. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Commander.”
“And why the hell not?” Richard hissed.
“By the time you arrive, I’m sure the search will be over. Besides, you won’t do your friends any good being out there. You’ll just get in the way.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“No, Commander, you won’t,” she declared, reaching for the foldway control panel. “As with the admiral’s condition, you’ll be kept apprised of the search status—either from the confines of your apartment or from the anteroom connected to my office. Take your pick.”
Richard understood there would be no changing her mind. With a frustrated sigh, he scanned the faces of his crew and, seeing their worry, knew which option to choose.
•
Bram stared at Solomon Chavez as though seeing him for the first time. The creature couldn’t possibly be right. The man wasn’t immortal, that was impossible … wasn’t it?
“Talk to me, Chavez. Is it true? Will you live forever?”
Solomon’s gaze was fixed firmly on Gloria. “We can talk about that later. As for now, we need to focus our energies on helping Ms. Muldoon.”
Knowing Solomon was right, Bram returned to exploring Gloria’s pack. He quickly found what he was looking for and removed the airtight package. “She’s lost a lot of blood,” he noted, handing the package to Solomon. “This is an emergency transfusion kit. We’ll be able to—”
“I know what it is, Waters.”
Biting back a stinging retort, Bram said, “I’m sure you do, Doc. All I meant was that we’ll be able to test her blood and ours to see if
one of us is a match. You’re the more likely candidate, seeing as my blood type is AB negative, which is rare. Being a doctor, I’m sure you already know your type. All we need to do now is test Gloria’s and we’ll be good to go.”
Solomon had already opened the package and was setting its contents to one side. He took a small, gray and black meter, held it to Gloria’s finger, and pressed a button. It punctured her skin, but no blood appeared. Grumbling under his breath, he squeezed her finger, but still, not a single drop of blood exited the wound.
“What do we do now?” Bram gulped. “She doesn’t have much time.”
Without answering, Solomon grabbed a syringe from the kit and jabbed the needle into the crook of Gloria’s right arm. Yanking it out, he tossed the syringe aside and put pressure on either side of the puncture mark. A small drop of blood seeped out. In one swift motion, he snatched up the test meter and absorbed the droplet. Within seconds the results were back. Gloria’s blood type was A positive.
“Mine’s no good,” Bram moaned. “How ’bout yours?”
Solomon hesitated before answering, “My blood type is O positive.”
“But that’s the universal donor!” Bram cried. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? We could’ve saved some time.”
Solomon leveled a hard stare. “I don’t need to explain myself to you, Waters. Just hand me the transfusion cuffs.”
Bram’s eyebrows shot up. He sensed that Solomon was hiding something else, something concerning his relationship with Gloria. He was almost tempted to probe deeper but tamped that urge down, knowing it was more important to concentrate fully on saving Gloria’s life. As he passed Solomon the transfusion cuffs, a thought struck him.
“The old man—I mean the creature—said something about your blood being a poison,” he observed. “Are you sure that it won’t harm Gloria?”
“No I’m not, but it’s better than letting her die without even trying,” he replied, strapping the cuff to his arm. After fastening the other cuff to Gloria’s arm, he programmed the monitor-pump and stretched out on the tunnel floor. Within seconds the blood was flowing through the IV lines from his arm into Gloria’s. “She won’t be able to receive all the blood she needs from my circulatory system alone. If she did, I’d wind up dry like her. Instead, I’ll supply as much blood as I can reasonably afford, with the remaining fluids being supplemented with saline solution. When the monitor beeps twice, remove the cuff from my arm and attach the bag of solution located in the emergency pack to the feed line below the cuff.” He pointed to a small, clear tube attached to the IV line just below his transfusion cuff. “I’ll be far too weak to stand, so you’ll need to hold the bag while the solution’s being fed into Gloria. Do you understand, Waters?”
Bram nodded.
“Good. Look in the pack. You’ll find a one-inch, flat metallic disk marked ‘status monitor’ wrapped in plastic. Stick it to the side of her neck over her carotid artery. It will send a status signal to the transfusion monitor, keeping you informed of her condition.”
As he opened the pack to remove the saline solution and status monitor, Bram glanced at the old man. He appeared solid, looked so real … but wasn’t. He was a deadly alien life-form. The old man stared hungrily at the blood traveling from Solomon’s arm to Gloria’s, his wrinkled, hooded eyes containing more than a hint of fear mixed with his hunger. The creature caught his eye and smiled, looking almost benevolent.
“You meats are fascinating creatures,” it said.
“Meats?” The term sounded exceedingly strange to Bram’s ear.
“Of course, you call us plants and we call you meats. Does that offend you?”
“We prefer to be called human beings,” Bram replied.
“Very well, that is what we will call you from now on,” the old man said.
Ripping open the plastic package containing the status monitor, Bram peeled off the paper backing to expose the adhesive beneath and applied the monitor to Gloria’s neck. “You keep referring to yourself as ‘we’ and ‘us.’ If I understand correctly, you’re a collective. The three of us are individuals. My name is Bram, the female is Gloria, and the other man is Solomon. Please refer to us by name from now on.”
“As you wish.” The old man looked from Gloria to Solomon. “You care for her a great deal, don’t you … Solomon?”
Bram sensed the same ambivalence as before rising in the enigmatic young man. He caught himself thinking this and realized that he could no longer think of Chavez as young.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Solomon grumbled. “So tell me, fungus, how should we refer to you from now on?”
The old man looked puzzled, but only momentarily. “We have no need of a name. However, if you persist with your unusual desire to personalize us, we would not be displeased if you began referring to us as the Great and Mighty Hunter Scavenger.”
Solomon rolled his eyes then shook his head. The transfusion process was taking its toll.
Bram sighed, “I can’t speak for Solomon, but I’m not calling you that. Come up with a name that rolls off the tongue easier, one that doesn’t sound quite so pompous.”
“As you wish. How does Argus roll off your oh-so refined tongue?”
Bram noted the disdain in the creature’s response. “Why that name?” he wondered.
The old man shrugged. “It’s as good as any.”
“If memory serves,” Solomon pointed out, “Argus was a character in Greek mythology. A hundred-eyed giant who spied on Zeus’s lovers for his jealous wife, Hera. A strange choice of names if you ask me; though oddly apropos.”
Hearing a low moan, Bram turned to see Gloria’s eyes flutter open. Her breathing was shallow, but her color was returning. In contrast, Solomon appeared listless, his skin pallid. The monitor beeped twice, informing Bram that it was time to begin the saline solution. Shortly thereafter, he supplied Solomon with an electrolyte supplement and a bottle of water. Without hesitation, Solomon popped the tablet and guzzled the water greedily.
“Don’t drink so fast,” Bram advised. “You might pass out.”
The enigmatic scientist lowered the bottle just as Gloria lifted her head.
“Bram …” she moaned. Her voice was weak. “W-what happened?”
Wiping her dry forehead with a moist cloth from the pack, Bram eased her head back down. “You’ve been attacked by—if you can believe this—a cluster of bloodsucking, telepathic fungi,” he explained in a comforting voice. “Dr. Chavez gave you a transfusion. He saved your life.”
Swiveling her head in Solomon’s direction, she whispered, “Thank you … brother.”
Bram was taken aback. What did she mean by calling Solomon brother? Was she using the term figuratively, having just received the man’s blood, or had the ordeal addled her mind to the point of confusion? Either way, it was obvious that Solomon was having none of it: he set down the bottle of water and turned a cold stare her way.
“I’m not your brother, Lt. Muldoon,” he stated sharply. “You are mistaken.”
With effort, Gloria rose to her elbows. “Yes you are, Solomon.” Her voice was sounding stronger. “My mother was Kathleen Muldoon. Your father had a brief affair with her in Norway, nearly thirty-seven years ago while attending a week-long conference at the Oslo Hilton. At the time of their fling, she was working as a bartender at the hotel and—”
“Once again, Lieutenant, you’re mistaken. I can assure you, I’m not your brother,” Solomon interjected. “Now, please, this whole ordeal has been extremely taxing. Perhaps we can discuss this at a later date. You should concentrate all your energies on regaining your strength.”
Bram noticed that the old man was watching the two with great interest.
With a shake of her head and a huff of disgust, Gloria responded to Solomon’s denial. “Is the thought of me as your sister so abhorrent that you feel the need to call my mother a liar? I’ll have you know, she wasn’t in the habit of sleeping with every man that came
along. My mother had true feelings for your father. She cared for him. She could’ve used her pregnancy to extort money from him, but she kept it silent … out of respect … perhaps out of love.”
“I’m not your brother,” Solomon reiterated, averting his eyes.
Bram sensed the truth in Solomon’s refutation but also knew there was more to the story. He suspected the truth, but out of decorum kept his mouth shut—the old man, on the other hand, had no such compunctions.
“Dr. Chavez is right,” the old man said, causing Gloria to register him for the first time. She looked both confused and frightened. “As he said, he is not your brother, he is your—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Solomon cried. “You don’t have a clue about—”
“Oh, but we do, Dr. Chavez. We understand the concept of siblings and progeny. We have consumed many species over the eons. As such, we have absorbed much knowledge from the brains of both small and large creatures. What we fail to understand is the reason you are keeping the female in the dark about your relationship, why you have yet to inform her that she is your daughter?”
For Bram, Solomon’s quick intake of breath was confirmation enough: the old man had spoken the truth.
Gloria, on the other hand, having been unconscious when Solomon disclosed his immortality, snorted in disbelief. “You don’t know as much about the human race as you think. Dr. Chavez can’t be my father—he isn’t old enough.”
Bram and Solomon exchanged glances.
“That’s not … necessarily true,” Solomon hesitantly admitted. Sitting up with effort, he fixed Gloria with a measured, though guilty, stare. “What this creature says is true. I suspect that we are related, but I’m not your brother. I remember your mother fondly, though I was under the impression she used birth control. To be safe, I used a condom.”
“Yeah, well, condoms break,” she said, looking both confused and skeptical. “As for her end of the carnal bargain, she lied to you. She hadn’t been in a relationship in well over a year, and hadn’t taken the pill for at least three months before she, um, met you. As for the condom … she supplied it, right?” Solomon nodded. “Nearly a year after my brother’s death, while visiting Switzerland with my foster parents, I finally gathered the courage to read my mother’s diary. In it she wrote about using a condom from an old box my step-father left behind. As I’m sure you’re aware, old condoms aren’t the most reliable means of protection … so there.”
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