Fight the MonSter: Find a Cure for MS

by Doug Dandridge

  “Commander John Barker?” asked Anderson as he approached, holding out a hand.“General Frank Anderson.”

  Barker shook his hand, his aging body still obeying some of his commands. “I know who you are, sir. What can I do for you?”

  “Would you care to sit down, Mr. Barker?” the general asked, motioning to the chair Barker had just vacated.

  “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d rather stay standing - it’s not as easy getting up and down as it used to be.”

  Anderson nodded. “Believe me, I understand,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Got a touch of sciatica, myself.”

  “Try ejecting from a plane, it worked for me!” They both laughed, but quickly sobered.

  “I’ll get to the point, then,” said Anderson. “I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s going on with Bunker Four, and what we’re doing about it. I tried to keep a lid on it,

  but around here…

  Barker waved him off. “No point to that, sir. I know most of it. How can I help?”

  “I need you in the right seat of one of our C-5’s, commander.”

  “Perhaps my sterling physique and youthful manner fooled you, general, but I’m an old man now. A retired old man, playing with his grandson,” Barker said, looking down at the boy he’d been bouncing on his knee. “And I never flew anything bigger than a Skyhawk.”

  “I know that, Mr. Barker. And I’d love to let you stay here, doing just that, for as long as you can. But I also know that our co-pilot for this mission came down with some sort of stomach

  bug because he was being a damn idiot, and now he can’t spend more than twenty minutes outside the head.” Anderson grew even more serious. “These things aren’t in great shape, John.

  We need your help. If we don’t make it there, lots of people will die. People just like your grandson. I wouldn’t ask if I had another option.”

  Barker looked down at the newest member of his family, thinking back all those years ago to the young SEAL who’d saved a crying child, knowing what it would cost him. A child

  who wasn’t even his own. He thought about all the years between then and now, and how that sacrifice had saved not just the child’s life, but likely his own, as well.

  For everything we’re given in this life, there’s a price, he thought. It’s time I paid this one. He looked up at the general.

  “When do we leave?”

  11

  Sphere of Jacob

  By Heath Stallcup

  The front door pushed in tentatively and a young face appeared in the opening. “Unc? You home?” The young man pushed the door wider and stepped inside the darkened townhouse that his uncle called home, the spare key slipping absently into his pocket. “Mom said to come by and check on you because you weren’t answering your…” his voice trailed off as he stared at the mess that was once his uncle’s home.

  Stepping gingerly over the strewn items within the townhouse, the young man made his way to the living room. At first he thought maybe his uncle had been robbed, the robbers hurting him in the process. But once he noticed the expensive television and video equipment still hanging on the wall, he scratched that idea.

  He quickly made his way to the bedroom upstairs, careful not to slip on the myriad pieces of broken glass that littered the steps as he made his way up. Pieces of broken frames and family pictures had been tossed hither and fro as if someone had played Frisbee in the house.

  He pushed open the bedroom door and the room was a complete mess. The mattress had been flipped end over end and someone had slashed it open, the stuffing was pulled out and scattered about the room. “What the hell happened in here?”

  A quick motion caught from his peripheral vision and a brush of something by the edge of his sandaled foot brought a scream from the back of his throat. He jumped and lost his footing in the remains of his uncle’s room and landed square on his ass, his hands shooting out to try to break his fall in the thick carpeting. “Son of a bitch!” He pulled his hand to his mouth as pinpricks of blood erupted and he noticed the black and white cat his uncle owned staring at him from behind the dislodged dresser. “Samson, you bastard. You nearly made me kill myself.”

  Standing slowly, he instinctively brought his hand to his mouth and gently sucked away the blood from the wound. He couldn’t see what caused the damage, but it stung like a bitch. “I wish you could talk Sam. This is strange as Hell.” He stretched and looked around the room. “I don’t guess anybody thought to feed you, did they?” He bent down to pick up the cat and was hissed at, the cat backing further behind the dresser.

  “What the hell?” He backed away slowly and stared at the shadows where the cat hid. “Fine. You want to be a little bitch, you can just starve.” He turned and made for the door pausing long enough to take one last look at the destroyed bedroom. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed his mom.

  “Unc isn’t home. And his place is a total mess.” He slowly worked his way down the steps and into the kitchen, intending to rinse his hand and grab a Pepsi from the fridge on his way out. What he saw there left him so shocked that he barely heard his mother on the other end. Food was scattered everywhere, condiment bottles shattered, the fridge standing open and stuff was rotting inside. The freezer door was left open and the items were all melted, ice cream running down the open door. “Huh? No…mom, it’s like somebody ransacked it. I mean…I know he can be messy, but not like this. I mean, it really looks like somebody thrashed his place.”

  He backed out toward the front door again. “No mom, I didn’t touch anything. Other than the front door knob.” He pulled the door shut with his foot and relocked it with her key. “No, it doesn’t look like it’s damaged. Maybe they came in a window. Or maybe he let them in. Or they picked it or something.” He did an about face and headed for his car. He was going to be late for his next class and his professors were not forgiving. “Mom, I’ll check back with him after class, okay? I have Micro and I can’t be late.”

  ****

  Justin Peters sat in his 2 o’clock Microbiology class and pretended to take notes. His mind was still back at his uncle’s townhouse. Why in the world would he tear his place up like that? Who else could have done it? As far as Justin knew, his uncle was simply an IT guy for some big physics lab. Or maybe he was a physics guy at a computer place. He really couldn’t remember. He just knew that his uncle was really cool and had the inside track to most of the newest video games months before they came to market.

  “Mr. Peters?”

  Justin looked up expectantly. “Sir?”

  “I asked if you turned in your midterm with the rest of the class?”

  “Oh, um…I’m sorry, sir. I have the paper done but I didn’t bring it. I had to…uh, well, I had errands before class and…”

  “Excuses will get you nowhere Mr. Peters.” He turned and walked back to the front of the classroom. “Next class period or I’ll deduct 10%.”

  Justin swallowed hard, not wanting to lose an entire letter grade. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  As the professor went back to his monotone speaking, Justin’s mind drifted back to his uncle’s townhouse, his hand absently scratching at his palm. He hissed under his breath as his nails scraped across the pinpricks and he jerked his hand away. Clenching his hand into a fist, he waited for the pain to subside then slowly opened his palm and stared at his hand. Through the red dots of blood he could spy metallic glints in the bright lights of the classroom. “What the hell is this?” His voice was barely a whisper as he pulled open the drawer to his supplies. He withdrew a magnifying glass and stared at his palm. Sure enough, tiny slivers of something metallic was embedded in the skin.

  Justin looked up to see that the professor was still droning on about the lesson then reached back into his drawer to withdraw a pair of forceps. He used the pointed end to try to grip the metallic sliver and pulled one from his hand. “Son of a…” He dropped the sliver on the table and stared at it a moment. Bare
ly the size of a human hair, it appeared to be made of gold or something similar.

  Justin used a swab and absorbed the blood from the sliver then lay it on a glass slide. He placed the slide under the stage clips and adjusted the course adjustment knob. Staring through the ocular, he used the fine adjustment knob to bring the sliver into full focus and his breath caught in his throat. “Holy smokes.”

  “Would you care to share with the rest of the class, Mr. Peters?”

  The voice caught his attention and Justin looked up. “Uh, no sir.” He shook his head vigorously.

  Professor Arlen smirked and strode forward purposefully. “Let’s just see what you have here.” He spun the microscope around on the turntable and stared into the ocular. The smirk slowly faded from his face and he adjusted the fine adjustment knob. He adjusted the stage left to right and his eyes widened as he stared at the metal sliver. Lifting his face from the ocular he stared at his student. “Where did you get this?”

  “Um, I’d rather not say, sir.” Justin looked around the classroom, all eyes glued to the pair.

  Professor Arlen glanced about then stood erect. “Uh…class dismissed. Next period, I expect you to have read the rest of Chapter 18 and be prepared for a quiz.” He watched as the students slowly filed out of the class, occasionally casting furtive glances back at the pair.

  “Now, young sir. Where exactly did you find this?”

  Justin swallowed and pointed to his hand. “I have a bunch of these stuck in here.”

  Professor Arlen stared at his hand then pulled a magnifying glass out and stared at the swollen palm. “Oh my god. There must be fifteen or twenty stuck in there.”

  “They hurt, too.”

  “Sit still.” Professor Arlen used tweezers and forceps to remove what he could, a needle helped to pry loose the last of the offenders. “You still haven’t told me where you were exposed to them at.”

  “At my uncle’s house.”

  “Your uncle?”

  “Stanwick Jacobs.”

  Professor Arlen stepped back, and stared at him, open mouthed.

  ****

  “They are nanotubes, but they’re the most remarkable nanotubes I’ve ever seen. If you’ll look here, they’re perfectly symmetrical. They’re as smooth as glass and they appear to be gold plated carbon.”

  “I didn’t think they could make them that smooth.” Justin noted aloud.

  Professor Arlen shook his head. “They can’t. At least, not that I knew of. But these? They are perfectly hexagonal. Like a honeycomb, only…they’re tapered.”

  “Tapered? Why would they do that?”

  Professor Arlen pulled away from the microscope and rubbed at his eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know. A honeycomb, in nature, is one of the strongest shapes other than an arch that there is. It supports, strengthens, cushions…allows for a perfect fit without any kind of cementing. But the taper throws me.”

  “What about the gold plating?”

  Arlen shook his head again. “Unless it’s to give it the perfectly smooth shape along the outer edges, I can’t say.” He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I mean, gold isn’t a strong metal. Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful. And it’s a great conductor. Most circuit boards have thin layers of gold because it conducts electricity so well. But it’s very weak and malleable.”

  “What would something like this be used for?” Justin asked rhetorically.

  “Beats me son, but it is the most remarkable thing I’ve seen under a microscope in more than thirty years.” He slipped the slide out and handed it to Justin. “If I were you, I’d ask your uncle. But odds are, he won’t be able to tell you.”

  “You know my uncle?”

  “Of him. Everybody knows of him. He’s a pretty famous fellow. One of the foremost physicists of our time.” He switched off the light to the microscope and reset it. “I thought he was working at CERN or someplace similar.”

  Justin sighed heavily and slipped the glass slide into a plastic baggie. He zipped it shut and stuffed it into his backpack. “Yeah. As soon as I find him, I’ll ask him.”

  ****

  Justin sat alone in his room, sketching the nanotubes in a notebook, trying to figure out their meaning. A soft knock at his door pulled his attention from his sketching. “Yeah?”

  His mom pushed the door open and stuck her face in. “You decent?”

  He smirked at her. “I’m a twenty year old male, mom. I’m never decent.”

  “Right, smart ass. Dinner’s ready whenever you are. I’ve got to run back to the office and prepare some papers for tomorrow. I’ve got a closing at noon. I finally sold the Ferguson place on Dewey Street. Should be a really nice commission.”

  “Congrats mom. You deserve it as many times as you’ve had to show that place.”

  “Well, that fat lady hasn’t sung yet, sweetie. Don’t forget to put your plate in the sink when you’re done.” She blew him a kiss and slipped back out, leaving him to his homework.

  Justin closed the notebook and slipped his sliders over his bare feet. Padding down the hall and down the stairs of their home, he could smell the chicken alfredo calling him. He grabbed his plate and scraped the broccoli off into the trash first. He didn’t know why she bothered. They both knew where it would end up.

  He padded back to his room and sat at his desk, the nanotubes beckoning him again. He flipped on his computer and did a quick search for nanotubes. Everything he could find showed images of honeycomb type structures forming the tube. Not a solid tube in the shape of a honeycomb. Nor could he find anything about gold plated nanotubes other than doing it to make them visible to scanning electron microscopes.

  He leaned back in his chair and stared at the images on the screen. This isn’t what they had. Not by a long shot. He flipped open his notebook and looked at the sketches he made, his only real reference to what he had seen through the microscope. Perhaps these weren’t truly nanotubes. He sighed as he continued to scroll through more images, pausing only long enough to shove another mouthful of alfredo noodles into his face.

  He flipped open his phone and called his uncle’s house. After two rings the answering machine came on. He listened to the message then hung up. Continuing to stare at the sketch, he hit the green button on his phone again and waited for the machine. “Uncle Stan? This is Justin. I need to talk to you about these…gold…things. They look like tiny needles except they aren’t. Call me when you get this.”

  Hanging up the phone, Justin got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. What if the people who ransacked the townhouse go back and hear his message? What if they had his phone tapped? What if…

  Justin stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his plate as he did. He stared about his room, waiting for something or someone to jump out of the shadows at him. He waited a moment, his breath coming in quick pants before he realized he was alone. “Dude, you’re working yourself up over nothing.” He shook his head to clear it then shut down his computer.

  He pushed his plate to the back of his desk, closed his notebook then collapsed onto his bed. “Early day tomorrow. I hate eight o’clock classes.” He pulled his t-shirt from his body and dropped it to the floor. He rolled over onto the bed and stared at the khaki shorts he wore. “Meh. They’re clean enough to wear tomorrow.” He pulled his pillow over his head and fell asleep.

  ****

  As the alarm went off, Justin rolled out of bed and fished around on his floor for a shirt. With his eyes still nearly closed, he held the shirt to his nose and breathed in deeply. “Oh god.” His eyes snapped open and he rolled the shirt into a ball and tossed it into a far corner. He reached down and grabbed another shirt and held it slightly farther away. Inhaling carefully, he slowly pulled the shirt closer to his face. Satisfied, he opened the shirt and checked for spilled food stains. Seeing none he pressed the pit of the shirt to his nose then nearly gagged. “There has got to be a cleaner dirty shirt around here somewhere…”

  “I put y
ou some clean shirts in your drawer.” His mom’s voice echoed from the hallway.

  “Thanks mom.” He stumbled out of the bed and pulled the drawer open. “Baseball shirt it is.” He pulled out an old NY Yankees t-shirt that a friend had left after a two week stay and quickly slathered on deodorant. Slipping on the three-quarter length sleeve shirt, he slipped on his sliders and grabbed his backpack.

  “Don’t forget your plate.”

  Justin froze and looked about his room. It was nearly a carbon copy of his uncle’s townhouse, except his always looked like that. He had no idea what plate his mom was talking about…until he saw his notebook. The plate sat next to it, the chicken and noodles appeared to have been glued in place overnight by a mighty loogie of pure phlegm from some giant unseen being. Picking up the remains he held it out as though it might come to life and kicked open his door. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “Rinse it please.”

  “Anything for you, mom.” He made his way down the stairs and dumped the plate into the sink, splashing a bit of water on it before pouring a cup of coffee. Stuffing a doughnut in his face, he sucked down the bitter brown go-juice then headed out the door. “It’s Wednesday so I have late classes, mom.”

  “I know. Wish me luck on the closing.”

  “Luck!” He shut the door behind him and plopped into the seat of his hand-me-down Volvo. Twisting the key, he backed out and made his way to the school. Following three cars behind him was an unmarked black sedan and a white panel van.

  As Justin pulled into his designated parking space he hopped out of the car and slammed the door. The unmarked black sedan circled the parking lot, waiting for the other students to move out of their way. Justin’s 8 o’clock class was directly across from the parking lot and he was headed straight toward the black sedan. The windows were tinted and the occupants couldn’t be seen.