Profusion

by Stan C. Smith

  Still Mbaiso didn’t move.

  Finally, Newton became quiet. She scratched her abdomen until her claws broke the skin. She pulled forth a dripping lump of flesh, placed it on Addison’s face, and then smeared it onto his cheek and one of his eyes. She glanced at Mbaiso then sprawled onto the ground next to Addison’s shoulder and lay there with her head up. She waited.

  Mbaiso processed this new information. If Addison quickly recovered from his fall, it would mean that Newton had adequate healing abilities and could likely care for Addison. And by extension, the other mbolop would be capable of caring for other humans. Perhaps this assumption could be invalidated by the fact that Addison wasn’t like other humans, but this was the data currently available to Mbaiso. It was better than no data.

  Mbaiso continued to watch as Newton rested silently beside Addison’s body. Other tree kangaroos from the colony came forward to investigate, sniffing cautiously at Addison’s still form and then wandering off. Addison’s body twitched occasionally, sometimes with a faint pop, as cracked bones were pulled back into their original positions by the particles Newton had provided—the same particles that comprised the Creator as well as Mbaiso and all the mbolop of the colony. The Creator had not provided Mbaiso with an understanding of the secrets that allowed the particles to exist and function, but Mbaiso was aware of what the particles could do. He knew they could exert force upon objects such as Addison’s bones by creating localized and incremental nudges to the most pliable of all the forces, that of gravity.

  Mbaiso had been given some understanding of his heritage. The creators of the Creator existed in a forest far from the great forest of this world. They were seekers of knowledge. But nothing they had ever learned before could compare to their eventual mastery of localized control over the properties of time, space, and gravitational forces. This was achieved not by massive machinery, but instead by the creation of the tiniest of particles. The discovery of the particles marked a turning point in the history of the creators of the Creator, which then led to the making of the Creator, as well as many others like the Creator. These Creators were sent out to locate other great forests, carrying with them the particles, formulated into a package possessing the awareness necessary to judiciously administer the particles’ power.

  Mbaiso had also been given the knowledge that the particles composing him were the greatest achievement of the creators of the Creator, perhaps the greatest achievement possible. He existed as a result of the Creator’s administering of the particles’ power. For thousands of years Mbaiso’s actions had been based primarily upon instructions from the Creator. But then the Creator had gone away, and Mbaiso had experienced a turning point in his existence. The Creator’s absence from the hanging village had turned Mbaiso’s world upside down, triggering something new and compelling within him. Instead of destroying himself, as instructed by the creator, he had formulated a plan. It was a plan that would allow him to carry out the same tasks that had always provided him with purpose—to assist humans.

  More specifically, to assist humans in their interactions with the Creator. For 10,000 years, this assistance had been limited to a small village of humans. But now the Creator had gone away. Mbaiso was certain of what this meant. He had seen many things happen, and he was aware of the vulnerabilities of humans to the powers of the Creator’s particles—particles that could nudge the properties of physical reality.

  The humans of the great forest would need assistance. They would need protecting, as Mbaiso had protected the villagers. Without protection, they would surely perish.

  While Mbaiso and Newton waited, the shafts of light piercing the canopy slowly changed angles as the sun moved across the sky. Eventually clouds blocked the sun, and the shafts of light were gone.

  Finally, Addison opened his eyes. He sat up and rested his face in his hands, staring at the ground through the spaces between his fingers. He was alive and apparently healthy.

  Mbaiso was satisfied with Newton’s ability to care for the nearly-human creature. But he was not at all satisfied with the condition that had caused Addison to fall in the first place. The sharing of senses between humans and their paired mbolop had been a mistake. Humans were apparently not well-suited to such sensory duality. This would have to be fixed before the colony went out to the great forest of this world.

  Mbaiso sat upright and signed to Newton, conveying what he wanted her to do next.

  Newton snorted. “No!” she then signed back.

  Mbaiso scratched his snout and thumped one foot against the ground. He was confident he could force Newton to do what he had asked, but there was something about her defiance that pleased him. It was his own defiance, after all, that had led to the realization of his ambitious plan.

  He gazed at Newton and then at Addison, who was still staring at the ground through his fingers. Addison’s next accident might kill him, in spite of Newton’s assistance. But perhaps the colony no longer needed him. Most of the colony would be leaving this place soon, although Mbaiso intended to stay here with Tupela. Addison would not be needed for expanding the hanging tunnels. At this point his death would probably not interfere with Mbaiso’s plan. Besides, there might be more to learn by observing Newton’s reaction to the death of the almost-human boy.

  But as for the rest of his mbolop colony, Mbaiso intended to remedy the situation. He waited until a pair of mbolop approached to check on Addison. They both had come earlier in the day, sniffing at Addison’s body and signing to Mbaiso for an explanation. Mbaiso now stopped one of them and pressed his snout to hers. She received a packet of data, an addendum to the set of instructions regarding pairing with humans. She then turned to the mbolop at her side and passed the data packet to him. They both hopped away to repeat this with the other mbolop of the colony.

  Sixteen

  Peter stared at the microwave meal on his lap. Mashed potatoes, corn, and some kind of meat covered in brown gravy. Other than having a compartmentalized tray made of paper instead of foil, it was identical to the tv dinners he used to buy for a dollar at the Coles grocery in Cairns back in the 70s. He glanced over at Robert. The poor bloke was shoveling his meal into his mouth with a plastic spoon like a starving animal.

  “Let’s begin, shall we? We should have had this done already.” The woman held a tablet and had barely looked up at them since unceremoniously placing the meals on their beds and unfastening their wrist restraints. Her name was Marleah, and apparently she was the one assigned to taking care of Peter and Robert’s basic needs. Every time they had to relieve themselves, she had to undo their restraints, and she complained every time about how much easier her job would be if she didn’t have to do this. If she were Peter’s employee, he’d have her repeat the part of her training about taking pride and pleasure in her work.

  “Please describe your first encounter with the Lamotelokhai,” she said. She then held the tablet out, apparently having tapped a record button.

  “Can’t remember,” Robert said with his mouth full of mystery meat. “I got shot. Traumatized, I guess.”

  Marleah glared at him. “I’ve got more than forty questions here. This will be over faster if you just answer them honestly.”

  “Can’t remember,” Robert repeated. “And why would I want this interview to be over? At least now I can scratch my crotch.” He dropped his spoon and started scratching away.

  Peter could’t help but smile. This was a feisty side of Robert he had not yet seen, as his employer.

  Marleah rolled her eyes and turned to Peter. “Mr. Wooley?”

  Peter stirred his potatoes with his spoon. “My first encounter?” He looked up and met her eyes. “It was a long time ago, before you were born.”

  “Can you describe it?”

  “It was a rather unusual experience. It’s doubtful you could appreciate the intricacies of it, nor the implications. If you could, I don’t believe you would be involved in this insanity.”

  “If you’re implying that Dr. H
elmich is insane, then you surely understand that he will take whatever steps are necessary to get honest answers from both of you.”

  Peter appraised her. “You’re American—I can tell that. What is your profession, might I ask?”

  Marleah sighed. “I’m an RN.”

  Robert snorted a laugh without looking up from his meal.

  “A nurse,” Peter said. “And somehow you have come to terms with the truthfulness of your poorly-veiled statement that we may be tortured.”

  “We’re all here because we believe in this project. We believe you and your cohorts have made a terrible mistake in hiding the Lamotelokhai from the rest of us. As if it were entirely up to you to do such a thing.”

  Peter shook his head and looked at his food.

  “My father died in November,” she said.

  Peter looked up at her.

  “I loved my dad. Everyone did. And we now live in a world where a dear man like my father should not have to die because of a stroke. Sure, if Dad would have had diabetes, or maybe AIDS, he probably would have lived. Because the Lamotelokhai decided, for whatever reason, to give us cures for those. But strokes were not high on the priority list, I guess. Too bad, Dad, you’re out of luck.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Peter said.

  “Every one of us here could tell you a similar story. We all have good reasons to believe in this project.”

  A shout came from somewhere beyond the windowless metal door, followed by more frantic shouting.

  Marleah frowned. She went to the door and used her key card to open it. She looked out. With the door open, Peter could hear more shouting, along with the distant drumming of feet against concrete. People were running.

  Marleah stepped back in and slammed the door shut. She turned to face Peter and Robert, her eyes wide.

  “What’s going on?” Peter asked.

  “There’s something out there. I—I don’t know what it is.”

  Peter and Robert exchanged a glance. This didn’t sound good. Peter couldn’t help but think of the dream he’d had, in which he’d witnessed unspeakable horrors through Samuel Inwood’s eyes. “Was it an animal?” he asked Marleah. “One you couldn’t identify? Maybe one that shouldn’t exist?”

  She furrowed her brows in confusion, nodding.

  “Oh, bloody hell! I knew the dream was a warning.”

  With her back to the door, Marleah said, “What are you say—”

  Her words were cut off by a blasting alarm, loud enough to startle Peter even though it came from beyond the thick door.

  “Oh no!” Marleah said. She covered her mouth, her eyes darting around the room like a frightened animal’s.

  “What is that?” Robert shouted.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she lowered her hand from her face. Determination was now chiseled into her features rather than panic. She rushed to Peter’s bedside and yanked off the sheet, sending corn and mashed potatoes flying. She then began loosening his ankle restraints. “They’ve triggered the 4:44 protocol!”

  Peter said, “The what?”

  “You don’t want to know. We have less than five minutes.”

  “What happens in five minutes?” Robert asked. When she didn’t answer he threw his sheet off, meal and all, and fumbled with his own ankle restraints.

  Marleah finished freeing Peter and helped Robert. Seconds later they were on their feet, following her to the door. Again she used her key card to open it. She stuck her head out but immediately pulled it back in and slammed the door shut.

  “Oh Jesus!” she said.

  “Open it,” Peter said. “Let me see.”

  She sucked in some air and then unlocked the door. Peter stuck his head out. The alarm’s volume assailed his ears, disorienting him. There was some kind of creature in the hall, moving away from them. At first its awkward scuttling limbs reminded him of a crab’s, although the thing was as big as a German shepherd. But then one of its legs slipped on the smooth concrete and flailed to the side. He realized it wasn’t a leg at all. It was a wing.

  He pulled his head back in and closed the door enough to muffle the alarm without latching. “The hall is clear to the right. I think we can make a run for it.”

  Marleah shook her head. “We have to go left to get to the outer perimeter where the exits are. We probably have about three minutes.”

  “Then we have no choice,” Peter said. “Are you ready?”

  They nodded.

  He threw the door open and they rushed out and started fleeing down the hallway to the left. But then they stopped. The creature had turned and was looking at them. Its eyes were mounted high upon a head that otherwise looked remarkably like that of a large sea turtle. And now beyond it was a swarm of several dozen smaller creatures. All shapes and sizes. Running, crawling, and slithering. And more of them were pouring into the hall from around a corner.

  Peter threw his arms out to prevent Robert and Marleah from going any farther. If these creatures had anything to do with what he had seen in his dream, it would be wise to avoid them.

  “Back into the room!” Peter shouted.

  Marleah shook her head. “No, we’ll die in there! This way!” She took off running in the only direction they could go—away from the building’s exits.

  Peter glanced at the approaching creatures. The turtle-headed animal with wings was now scrambling toward him, either to attack or to escape the horde that was quickly advancing. He turned and ran after Robert and Marleah.

  They took a right and then a left. The hall opened into a circular space. In the center was a round elevator shaft. The elevator door was closed. Marleah ran for the elevator, but instead of going for the door, she circled to the back side of the shaft. Peter and Robert followed. When they caught up, she was already halfway up a vertical ladder bolted to the shaft and ending at a hatch in the ceiling five meters up.

  Robert started up the ladder after her. Peter began climbing as soon as Robert’s feet were at eye level. The throbbing alarm had become more intense, or maybe it was just louder in this room, and Peter had to fight the urge to let go of the ladder and cover his ears.

  Marleah stopped at the hatch. Peter could hardly see past Robert’s body, but he could tell that she was fumbling with something. Her hand shot out with her key card, and she pressed it against a card reader on the ceiling. The hatch opened, and sunlight poured in. The hatch apparently opened onto the compound’s roof. Marleah climbed through, then Robert.

  Peter was almost to the hatch when something pulled on his foot. He looked down. The winged turtle had clambered up the ladder and its toothless jaws were clamped onto his shoe. Its featherless wings, each over a meter long, thrashed about, awkwardly trying to hold on to the ladder. Peter tried shaking the creature off, but its jaws were like a vice. So he pulled himself up, hoisting the monster with him. He looked down again. The smaller creatures were now swarming the room, running around like frenzied ants. The turtle gripped his shoe so tightly that Peter worried it might crush the bones in his foot.

  He hooked his fingers over the edge of the opening and strained, dragging the creature up. Marleah and Robert leaned through the hatch and grabbed his shirt. They pulled him up until he was sitting on the lip of the hatch. He pulled his right leg out, but his left leg and the creature still dangled below him.

  “Get off me!” he screamed.

  Marleah and Robert grabbed his knee and pulled, forcing Peter onto his back. His foot and the creature’s head came into view over the hatch’s lip. Suddenly the thing forced its wings through the opening and found purchase. This took much of the weight off Peter’s leg, but the creature still didn’t let go.

  The alarm stopped.

  “Oh God!” Marleah cried. “Shut the hatch!”

  Before anyone could act, a massive whump came from below, shaking the entire roof. This was followed by a roar that steadily got louder. Suddenly flames blasted through the hatch. Peter cried out as the creature was ripped from his foot. He rolled
away from the hatch. His shoe and pant leg were burning, but for some reason he thought only of the creature. He looked up and there it was, in the sky. Its body was on fire, but nevertheless its wings were intact and it was flying. It circled aimlessly once and then took off toward the horizon, leaving a trail of black smoke drifting across the cloudless sky. It was a strangely beautiful sight.

  Robert and Marleah pummeled Peter’s foot and leg with their hands trying to put out the flames. Pain spread to his butt and back, and it steadily got worse. Peter realized the roof was heating up.

  “Bloody hell!” he cried. He sat up and got to his feet in spite of excruciating pain in his leg.

  “It’s the heat from inside,” Marleah said. She lifted one of her jogging shoes off the concrete roof. Strings of melted rubber extended from the shoe to the concrete. “It’ll get even hotter. We have to get off the roof. Now!”

  Peter looked around. They were in the exact center of a vast circular roof. The edges looked to be about 150 meters away no matter which way he turned.

  Marleah started running, her shoes leaving a trail of melted goo.

  Peter looked at Robert. The bandage on his face and neck had been pulled most of the way off, revealing purple bruising. He was lifting one foot and then the other to avoid being burned through his shoes.

  “I know you’re hurt, sir, but either you have to run or I have to carry you.”

  “I can run,” Peter said. They took off after her.

  When they were only halfway to the compound’s outer wall, Peter knew they were in serious trouble. The soles of his shoes were nearly gone. Marleah was twenty meters ahead, but he could hear her crying out in pain. She kept running. They all kept running. There was no other choice. It was hard to breathe. Like inhaling fire. Peter imagined at any moment Robert and Marleah would burst into flames before his eyes.

  About fifty meters to go. Peter was sure there was nothing left between the bare skin of his feet and the concrete.

  Twenty meters. Now he was sure the skin of his feet had been burned away and he was running on exposed bone. Step after excruciating step, the edge of the roof drew nearer.