Dark Biology

by Bonnie Doran

  Dan wrapped a protective arm around her. He gazed into her eyes and…pointed at the moon. “Full moon.”

  “Nice.” And…?

  “See that large spot in the center? That’s the Sea of Tranquility. That’s where Apollo 11 landed.”

  “Uh-huh.” Right now she was not interested in a history lesson.

  “That’s right where I’ll land.”

  Hildi crossed her arms against her chest. Not again.

  “C’mon, you know how much the moon shot means to me.” He squeezed her closer. “You can wait that long, can’t you?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Dan leaned forward. “I’m worth waiting for.”

  Hildi jumped up and paced in the sand. Of all the pigheaded, egotistical…She turned and plastered an I’m-so-confused expression on her face. “Waiting? For what?”

  “You know.”

  Planting her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “I don’t know. You’ve never asked me, Mr. Astronaut. You might own the stars, but you don’t own me.”

  Dan’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.

  Mission aborted. Again.

  She spun on her heel and strode up the beach, fists clenched. His sputtering and the snap of his flip-flops behind her made her run. She had a good head start.

  Hildi raced through the parking lot with her tote bag banging against her calf, reached her Smart Car, and slammed the door. The grinding noise from her overactive attempt to start the engine ratcheted her frustration level another notch. No sense taking it out on an inanimate object. After a deep breath, she turned the ignition key more gently, and the vehicle purred to life. As she roared away, her rearview mirror showed a waving, shouting bacterium at the edge of the asphalt. Hildi left her ex-boyfriend to find his own way home. Served him right.

  ****

  Dan stood in the parking lot, his mouth still open. He clamped it shut. What had he said this time?

  He shook his head at Hildi’s outburst. It wasn’t like her. He racked his brain to figure out what had set her off. They were talking on Galveston Beach…

  He slapped his forehead. Of course. She’d expected him to propose. He hadn’t actually asked her to marry him, but she should have known he intended to. He probably would have, too, until she threw a temper tantrum. What was her problem? Did he have to spell out everything for her like a procedural manual? He just didn’t get it.

  Dan chewed his lip as he retrieved the towels, anticipating a forty-mile walk to the apartment complex in Clear Lake unless he flagged down a fellow astronaut. He could pound on her door and settle things. No. He should let her cool off. He started the trek as determination hardened.

  He’d win her back.

  ****

  In the drive to her apartment, Hildi’s anger turned inward. She’d lost her temper. That was happening a lot lately when she and Dan had a few moments alone. Why were they always arguing? Was he the pigheaded one, or were they mutually obstinate? Maybe she was the problem.

  She sighed as she pulled into her parking space. Another possibility jarred her. Was this an indication they weren’t made for each other? Or was his apparent cluelessness something else altogether? She’d just assumed they had an understanding, but what if he was attracted to those women who always hung around space boys? In the year they’d dated, he’d never said he wasn’t dating others. If he went out with one of those…those sirens, she’d feel betrayed. The way she felt when Frank had cheated on her.

  As she trudged up her walkway, Frank nearly bumped into her, dropping his mailbox key. She had once thought his freckles and dimples were cute. “Sorry.” Speak of the devil. The last person she wanted to see. Or, maybe the second to last.

  “You startled me.” Frank bent to retrieve the key. He cocked his head. “You seem a bit preoccupied.”

  “Oh, you know how it is.” Hildi didn’t want launch into a long explanation. She faked a smile and hid behind small talk. “Any more emergencies like that last simulation and I’ll just get out and walk.”

  Frank laughed. He had a nice laugh. Too bad he’d tainted it by his infidelity.

  “You want to come in for coffee?”

  After the spat with Dan, Hildi was sorely tempted to accept kindness, even from him. Exhaustion answered for her. “Thanks, but I’m beat.”

  “I’m buying.” He stepped closer, a pleasant whiff of his cologne reminding her of better days in their relationship. He seemed eager, attentive.

  She hesitated then shook her head. “Maybe next time.”

  “Catch you in the salt mines, then.” Frank walked past her.

  ****

  Frank glanced at Hildi out of the corner of his eye as she entered her apartment. He ground his teeth. Anger simmered underneath her light words. Another argument with Dan?

  He knew the signs in their secret smiles. Dating, with all its dancing emotions. His anger festered to think his old childhood friend had hurt her, although their disagreement gave Frank the opening he needed. Perhaps he could still salvage their relationship. If they could only talk…He shook his head. After he’d wantonly disregarded their engagement, would she ever give him a second chance?

  Frank entered his own apartment as resolve enveloped him.

  He’d win her back.

  ****

  Hildi entered her apartment, feeling oddly relieved. She tossed her tote bag on the easy chair and rummaged through it. She retrieved a half-eaten sandwich—ham and Swiss on rye. Still edible. Funny how arguments made her hungry.

  After polishing off the sandwich with a good-for-you salad and a can of soda, she indulged in a piece of dark chocolate—her ration for the day. A warm shower helped ease tense shoulders. She pulled on shorts and a NASA T-shirt then flopped into the chair. She dumped the remaining contents of her tote bag on the coffee table. A women’s magazine fell out, the kind filled with photos of all-glamour-no-blemish models. She’d picked it up out of idle curiosity, the cover promising an article on the space program. The article stank almost as much as the perfume sample buried inside. Tossing the magazine aside, she reached for her novel.

  The lingering scent of the scratch-and-sniff card plunged her heart down a painful path. She’d smelled women’s cologne on Frank that day. Sensual, seductive…

  “I thought you said you were training late.” She could no longer deny her doubts, especially when he smelled like Chanel No. 5. Hildi didn’t wear perfume.

  “I was! Do I have to check with you every minute?” Frank stomped into her kitchen and pulled a cola from the refrigerator.

  She followed him, short fingernails gouging the palms of her clenched fists. “Don’t lie to me. I can smell somebody’s eau de stench.” She plucked a long strand of blonde hair from his shirt. “This isn’t mine.”

  He swigged his soda. “I went out for a drink with a coworker. That’s all.”

  Disbelief squeezed her heart. She advanced on him. At least he had the decency to retreat, although decent didn’t describe his behavior. “We’re engaged, Frank. It means exclusive. Or didn’t you understand that when you proposed?”

  He held up his hands. “I didn’t do anything.”

  Knots formed in Hildi’s stomach. She stared at him as comprehension twisted the rope tighter. If only she could strangle him with it. “This isn’t the first time, is it? Is it?” Her voice quavered. “Did you sleep with her? With them?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “OK, maybe I slept with some of them. It’s no big deal.”

  Hildi’s jaw dropped along with her heart. He was actually making excuses for his behavior. Anger replaced her disbelief. “No big deal? Whatever happened to that no-sex-before-marriage commitment? What happened to your commitment to God, to me?”

  Frank lowered his gaze.

  Busted.

  He huffed a breath. “You have no idea how these women come on to me. All the astronauts have groupies.”

  “No, they don’t.�
�� But they make themselves available. Her fists clenched, begging for a chance to deck him. “So that’s the way it is? You see absolutely nothing wrong with sleeping around before the wedding. Our wedding.”

  “I guess I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry I hurt you.” He reached for her, cradled her face with both hands, and caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. “C’mon, honey. Those were just flings. You’re the one I want.”

  She stepped back. Pain sliced through her. She yanked the engagement ring from her finger. At least she had summoned the dignity to place it in his palm instead of throwing it out the window. “I won’t marry you. Now get out.”

  Hildi startled out of the dark memory, still rubbing her ring finger. She exhaled. At least she’d had the good sense to end the relationship. Frank was ancient history. Dan was a different problem, but at least he wouldn’t cheat on her. Would he?

  She reached again for her novel. On second thought…

  Hildi checked her watch, pulled out her cell phone, and speed dialed Francine’s number.

  “Hello?” A sleepy voice answered.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Hildi!” Francine’s excitement reached ear-splitting level. Hildi held the phone at arm’s length.

  “Glad I caught you at home.”

  Francine chuckled. “Well, I had a hot date with a virus, but the microbe canceled at the last minute. What’s up? Has a certain someone popped the question?”

  Hildi snorted.

  “He didn’t?”

  “No, he didn’t. It was a perfect evening at the beach. We watched the stars come out. The moon rose…then he pulled his moon-mission mantra.” She pounded the armchair.

  “Do you want me to strangle him for you?”

  “Nah. That’s my job.” Hildi huffed out a breath. “Tonight’s quarrel really makes me wonder if God plans for us to be together. I want Dan, not a sparring partner.”

  “It’ll pass. Just think how much fun it’ll be to kiss and make up.”

  Francine’s suggestive tone made Hildi smile in spite of herself. It was short-lived. “I don’t know, Francine. I just don’t know.”

  “Maybe Dan’s right. Maybe you should wait until he comes back to Earth. Until he gets the moon out of his system.”

  “Hey, I thought you were on my side. That’ll be two years.”

  “I’m on both of your sides.”

  Hildi inhaled a huge breath, clamping her teeth on a sharp answer as Francine continued.

  “Look, all I’m saying is maybe you guys shouldn’t have the wedding right after your stint on the space station. Let him have his moon mission. Then you can launch your marriage.”

  “Our relationship is a launch, delayed for months due to technical difficulties. At the rate we’re going, it could be scrubbed.”

  “Well, I for one know you’ll blast off. You just need to get past this.”

  Hildi shook her head. “Every time I think he’s going to propose, he talks about the moon. I’m tired of playing second fiddle to another stupid NASA program.” A yawn escaped her.

  “Glad I’m so entertaining.”

  “Sorry. I’m a little sleep deprived. I’d like to think you’re right, but I’m bone tired of waiting.”

  “Maybe you’re just bone tired. Get some sleep.”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  “I’ll pray for you. Everything will work out.”

  Francine, the ultimate optimist. Hildi smiled in spite of her heart’s protests. “I’d keep a stiff upper lip, but I’d get a sprain. Thanks for letting me unload on you.”

  “Anytime.”

  “How are things at the lab?”

  “Same old thing. The scenery never changes. And your brother’s still in trouble.”

  “Figures.”

  Hildi turned off the phone, prepared her coffeemaker for the morning brew, and yawned again. She headed for the bedroom.

  As she fought for sleep and lost, sadness wrapped around her. Lord, I said I forgave Frank, but have I really?

  Another thought intruded. And does Dan really love me?

  9

  “I” Minus Two Days

  “So you’re telling me I’m fired?” Chet stood before a polished walnut desk in the administration building, his jaw clenched.

  Director Hunt peered over his horn-rimmed glasses. “You’re a good worker, Chet, but we don’t feel your skills are best served in Level 4.”

  “Oh, so you’re demoting me.” He glanced behind Hunt at his reflection in the glass protecting the U.S. President’s photo. The shower Chet had taken after his blue-suit work had plastered his red hair to his scalp. He could have at least used a comb before facing his boss, not that he had any respect for the man.

  “There are plenty of opportunities in Levels 2 and 3,” Hunt said. “Some of our most vital research is performed there.”

  Chet stifled a smirk. The man was begging. Chet was irreplaceable, and the boss knew it. “Ebola is the real challenge, and that’s Level 4 work.”

  Hunt stood and waddled around his desk, bending his neck to maintain eye contact. “Your team members have become concerned about your mindset.” He seemed to pick his words like a politician. “We can’t allow a flippant attitude in the lab. I warned you after that stunt with the English virus, but you continue to perform unauthorized work. I can no longer tolerate such behavior.” Hunt crossed his arms. “Well?”

  Chet’s nostrils flared. His teammates were spreading lies about him. “I’m not flippant.”

  The corners of the director’s mouth turned upward in that smile again. He should run for Congress. “Look, you’ve been overworking yourself for months on this latest research. Maybe you need a break. Take a week or two. Relax. Get some perspective on this. Then we’ll talk.” He put his hand on Chet’s shoulder, a gesture that autoclaved Chet’s blood.

  “Is that an order?”

  Hunt peered over the rim of his glasses. “Just consider it a strong suggestion.”

  Chet spoke through clenched teeth. He wasn’t going to tolerate Hunt’s treatment one second longer. “In that case, my vacation starts now.” He stomped out of the office and slammed the door.

  Grabbing his laptop case from his cubicle, he stuffed it with the few things he wanted for a forced leave of absence and stalked out. He spotted a few of the other scientists, but they suddenly seemed absorbed in their work. He didn’t want to talk with them, either. Francine passed him in the hallway and scowled at him. Big surprise. She was buddy-buddy with his dear sister, who obviously had filled her head with lies.

  Traitors.

  He walked past a coworker’s desk and spied the keys she’d tossed on it. Sloppy. Hmmm. She had access to the Infectious Diseases Lab, Level 3. Something clicked in his brain. He snatched the keys and strode to the lab in a nearby building. No one around. A scrawled note over the eye of the security camera indicated a malfunction. So much the better. He unlocked the door, slipped inside, and set down his case.

  Chest freezers lined the walls of the room, with stainless steel worktables in the center. Snapping on a pair of gloves, he opened a freezer and plucked a vial at random. He squinted at the label. H1N2—a pretty run-of-the-mill flu strain. Good enough. He pulled off his gloves inside out, encased the tiny container in one, and stowed it in his briefcase. That should mess up Hunt’s precious paperwork royally, and they’d never trace it to him.

  He returned to the office building and replaced the keys on his coworker’s desk, careful to leave them in just the right position. She had a habit of taking long lunches, which worked to his advantage today. He smirked.

  Satisfied, he clocked out. He experienced a momentary worry when a security guard checked his laptop case, but as usual, the guard did only a cursory inspection. He waved Chet through.

  He marched to his house, strangling the handle of the case. Wisdom told him he should toe the line at work, but no way was he going to kowtow to his arrogant boss.

  Inside his modest home, he plopped on the cou
ch and retrieved the vial of colorless liquid from its latex-glove package. He held it up to the light and studied it. Amazing how much misery could be contained in such a small package. The theft had been an impulse, just to mess up paperwork and pull Hunt’s bureaucratic chain, but releasing it in a public place—or, say, the boss’s office—might be educational.

  A slow smile spread across his face. Perfect. He stroked the vial like a treasured pet.

  The blinking light on the phone caught Chet’s attention. Frowning, he set down the vial and pressed the play button. He groaned as he heard a familiar voice.

  “Hi, hon, it’s your mom.” Her voice had a high pitch as if she’d plastered a fake cheeriness to it, though it was hard to tell on a recording. “Say, your father and I will be teaching a marriage seminar in two weeks in Atlanta. Why don’t you join us for dinner afterwards on Saturday night? Our treat.” She hesitated. “I know you’re still angry, but we miss you. We want our son back.” When she continued, her voice sounded strained. “Well, anyway, we’d like to see you. By the way, we’re home in Denver this weekend for another seminar, and the trees are just starting to bud. We especially love the aspens in the yard. We wish—”

  Chet slammed his finger on the delete button. When would she learn? She called every week, filling his machine with her stupid pleas. Always the clueless peacemaker. He never wanted to talk to her or his father again. Ever.

  He hung his jacket in the coat closet and removed his tie. Not in the mood to cook lunch, he ordered Chinese takeout with egg rolls and crab cheese wontons. Sweet and sour sauce in packets was abysmal, so Chet decided to prepare his own. He set a copper-clad pan on the stove and gathered ingredients. By the time his meal arrived twenty minutes later, his sauce had thickened to the perfect consistency.

  As he munched on Kung Pao chicken and fried rice, an idea coalesced in his mind. Setting his ivory chopsticks aside, he called Cruise Adventures and asked for Tony.

  “Hey, Tony, it’s Chet Hildebrandt.” He crunched into an overdone egg roll after drowning it in his sauce.