Diffusion

by Stan C. Smith

  The jacket sleeves filled with water, and Quentin insisted that they all take a generous drink. Astoundingly, the tree kangaroo stopped shaking the trees while they drank, and then promptly started again when Bobby held the jacket out for more.

  After returning to the fuselage, Quentin held a bag of water open as Lindsey cleaned Addison’s face. His forehead was grotesquely swollen, with concentric circles of blue and black around the impact wound. He had not stirred since the crash, and Quentin feared brain damage. But a pulse could be felt in his neck and wrist, giving them hope.

  Miranda, who was in a perpetual state of semiconsciousness, seemed to be faring better. Suddenly, as Lindsey wiped her face, Miranda opened her eyes. “Where are we?”

  Lindsey exhaled loudly. “Thank God, honey! We’ve been so worried.”

  Miranda tried lifting her head, but then dropped back, moaning.

  Quentin said, “Our plane crashed on the flight to Jayapura, Miranda.”

  “I remember.” She squeezed her eyes shut as if the memory hurt. “How long ago?”

  “Yesterday,” Lindsey said. “We’re going to get you to a hospital soon.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Only one day?” She lifted an arm, whimpering from the pain of movement, and pushed her fingers through her short blonde hair.

  Lindsey continued washing Miranda’s skin, talking softly to her.

  Quentin took one of the bags of water and a reasonably clean portion of a shirt. He found Carlos slumped against a tree, weary from gathering water, and Quentin unwrapped his ruined hand. It was damaged beyond hope of repair, and infection was beginning to set in. Quentin knew that even in a modern hospital they would likely amputate his three crushed fingers. Carlos sobbed but didn’t complain as Quentin washed the hand.

  “Mbaiso!” Bobby said. “That’s what we’ll call him.” He and Ashley, who had taken over for Carlos, now sat on the rotting trunk of a fallen tree. For some minutes they had been discussing the problem of finding the missing tail section of the plane, but Bobby had a hard time ignoring the tree kangaroo.

  “Mbaiso?” Ashley said. “Where'd you get that?”

  Bobby explained Mr. Darnell’s story about the legendary creature, the mbaiso.

  Ashley snorted. “Mr. D always tells stories like that. Doesn’t mean they’re true.”

  “So what about him, then?” Bobby pointed at the animal above them.

  “I don’t know. Can we focus on finding the rest of the plane? It sounds like your idea might actually work.”

  Bobby had never talked to Ashley alone. He was fourteen, almost a freshman, and had hardly any friends. Ashley was seventeen, a senior, the kind of girl kids like Bobby dreamed about. She was pretty, and Bobby had always figured she was stuck up. But now things were different. Her sarcasm had mostly disappeared. In fact, she seemed impressed with his plan for finding the rest of their stuff. So they went back and convinced Mr. Darnell to give the plan a try. Soon Mr. Darnell, Bobby, Ashley, and Carlos headed into the forest in the most likely direction until they were out of sight of the plane but still within earshot of Mrs. Darnell. At that spot they posted Carlos, who would stay as a yelling link to Mrs. Darnell. They moved on and then posted Ashley as another link in their voice chain, within shouting distance of Carlos.

  Ashley was willing to do this, but she seemed to be hiding some dread, perhaps of being left alone there.

  “You gonna be okay?” Bobby asked her.

  “Shut up, Bobby. Worry about yourself.”

  His face flushed. Not willing to give up, he looked up at the tree kangaroo, which had followed them. “Mbaiso, stay here with Ashley, okay?” He pointed at Ashley. The tree kangaroo raised its head and stared, its forelimbs fidgeting while the thicker hind legs gripped a branch. To Bobby’s surprise, the creature stayed put as he pushed on after Mr. Darnell.

  Over his shoulder Mr. Darnell said, “You call it Mbaiso?”

  “I know your story was made up, but that’s what he is.”

  “It’s a good name.” Mr. Darnell ducked under a vine and then held it up for Bobby. “But I’m hoping our Mbaiso acts the way he does from living with people. If we can find them, they can radio for help.” He paused to call to Ashley, who answered right away. Still too close to post another link in the chain.

  Bobby glanced to his side and something caught his eye—splintered branches stood out like markers above a small clearing. He approached the spot and Mr. Darnell followed. When they were almost upon it, they froze.

  Mr. Darnell whispered, “What the hell?”

  The clearing was the size and shape of a Twin Otter wing. But only a small part of the wing was visible at the center of the clearing, protruding from a mound of freshly dug soil.

  “It’s buried,” Bobby said. “Someone buried the wing.”

  Mr. Darnell moved closer. “What is this?” He kneeled and touched the soil. It was red-brown, different from the black soil of the surrounding area. It was very fine, and the surface reminded Bobby of dark sifted flour.

  “It looks like an anthill—like ants buried the wing,” Bobby said.

  “Yeah, but where are the ants?” Mr. Darnell dug into the stuff with his hand, and Bobby watched, half-expecting the hand to come up covered with angry, swarming ants.

  “And why would ants—wait a minute!” Mr. Darnell pushed aside some of the dirt. Then he used his forearm to shove aside an entire armload. Beneath it there was only the forest floor. Mr. Darnell moved to the protruding metal, felt for its edge under the soil, and then lifted the entire piece with one hand. “The wing isn’t buried. It’s gone.”

  They stared at the chunk of wing in Mr. Darnell’s hand. The soil on the ground seemed dry, but the raw edges of the wreckage shined with wetness. He dropped it and jumped to the edge of the clearing. “Don’t touch anything, Bobby!” he wiped his hands on his pants. “The wing has decomposed—or something. Jesus, what is this stuff?” He rubbed his hands and arms like they had acid on them.

  Bobby stared at what was left of a Twin Otter wing. It was now upside down, jagged edges turned upward. As he watched, a chunk the size of a penny sagged, dripped to the ground, and then disappeared into the soil.

  Bobby and Mr. Darnell watched the last of the wing dissolve. The process reminded Bobby of a time-lapse video he’d seen once of a decomposing rat.

  “Hey, you guys! Did you find something?” It was Ashley, calling from her station.

  Mr. Darnell shouted, “Yeah, we did. Keep listening for us.” He hesitated, looking at his hands like he feared they might melt. Then he turned to Bobby. “The rest of the plane has to be nearby.” He pointed to a spot well clear of the disintegrated wing. “You stay there, and I’ll search the area within earshot.

  Soon after Mr. Darnell left, though, he cried out. As Bobby rushed to his side, Mr. Darnell grabbed his arm, a silent warning to be careful. Before them lay the tail of the plane, in several pieces. And like the wing each piece was only a small chunk in the middle of a mound of perfect red-brown anthill dirt. To one side was a heap of travel bags, clothing, and other things. Someone had gathered up their stuff.

  Mr. Darnell released Bobby’s arm and moved away. Bobby followed. Before them was a seat from the plane. It lay on its side—what was left of it. The rest was just soil. Next to the seat, formed to its curves, was another pile of soil. Bobby stared, and then suddenly he inhaled sharply. The soil had the shape of a human body.

  “What is that?” Bobby whispered.

  “It must have been the Indonesian girl. And I can only assume that was her companion.” He pointed. Near the dirt figure, as if someone had curled up to fall asleep and then turned to dust, was another mound of soil in the shape of a human body.

  Quentin felt ready to burst. He had no answers, but the questions still came.

  “I can maybe understand the bodies,” Lindsey said. “It’s a tropical forest. Things decompose quickly. But the plane wreckage? Where did that go?”r />
  “Not that quickly,” he said, after taking several gulps of rainwater. “We’ve been here less than two days, Linds. Bodies don’t decompose that quickly. Besides, the other bodies are still there.” Upon returning from their search, he’d inspected the bodies of the pilot, Roberto, and Russ. They’d shown early signs of decomposition, but they were still there.

  “Then what could have happened? Are you sure they were bodies? Maybe the guy found his wife alive and they left together to find a village.”

  “I don’t know!” His voice had an edge that he hadn’t intended. “I suppose that’s possible.” He rubbed his forehead and then glanced at the others. The only conscious person who had not asked the same confounding questions was Miranda. Lying in her makeshift bed, her body broken and weak, she watched the conversation silently.

  They sorted through the recovered items. It was mostly clothing and their field supplies: notebooks, binoculars, and wildlife identification guides. Most valuable were Lindsey’s first aid supplies and two bottles of Aqua mineral water. Her stash of snacks was mostly gone except for some cereal bars. After setting aside a portion for Addison in hopes that he would wake up, they divided these up and ate them.

  There was no medical kit. Perhaps it had turned to dirt with the rest of the wreckage. Lindsey spread out her own first aid supplies. There were bandages, motion-sickness tablets, q-tips, antihistamines, alcohol wipes, two tubes of antibiotic cream, scissors, gauze, tape, a needle and thread, and insect repellant. It was absurdly inadequate, but they decided to use the supplies at once in case they might be able to prevent infection in at least some of their wounds.

  As Quentin worked on Carlos’s hand, the strange condition of the wreckage gnawed at his consciousness. Their lives were at risk from dehydration, hyperthermia, infection, disease, and blunt trauma. And now, even if they somehow could overcome these threats, an unknown force was at work in this forest, causing people and solid objects to disintegrate overnight.

  And then there was the raw and simple fact that they had not seen or heard a single plane or helicopter that might be searching for them.

  After depleting the limited supplies, Quentin collapsed and folded himself up against the fuselage wall. He sat there and quietly stared at Addison’s limp form.

  Bobby figured that if Mbaiso had been trained to help collect water, he could probably help do other things. Like getting food. Bobby’s hunger was starting to hurt. His small portion of the food they had found only made it worse. And after their success getting water and finding the plane’s tail, he was starting to feel he could be useful. Besides, he liked impressing Ashley with his ideas, and she’d been hanging around him all afternoon.

  They stood together now in the fading afternoon light, eyeing Mbaiso, who was a few meters away clinging to a tree. A termite trail ran up the tree’s trunk, from the ground to somewhere far above. Bobby had seen trails like this before. It was actually a tunnel, a covered highway made on the tree by termites out of chewed wood and saliva. Within the tunnel the termites were protected as they traveled up and down the tree. But Mbaiso had smashed part of the tunnel and now the termites swarmed the area. The tree kangaroo was watching the angry termites and keeping an eye on Bobby and Ashley at the same time.

  “You actually think he’s going to help us find food?” Ashley sounded skeptical.

  “If he can help get water, why not?”

  “What are you going to do, just ask him?”

  “We didn’t have to ask him about the water,” Bobby grabbed a vine and pulled it to his mouth like he was eating it. “Wow, I’m hungry. Wish I had something better to eat.”

  Ashley rolled her eyes and shook her head. She pulled part of the vine to her mouth. “This stuff sucks,” she said. “I wish I had some cheeseburgers.”

  The tree kangaroo stared at them, distracted from the swarming termites.

  Bobby moved closer to Mbaiso and pulled another vine to his mouth. “I sure wish I could find—”

  He stopped and sputtered. “Ow! Crap it hurts!” His mouth was on fire, like hot needles were sticking his lips. He pushed his hand against his mouth and the pain exploded, hurting so much he fell to his knees.

  “What, Bobby? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know—Oooogod.” It hurt to talk, so he pointed at the vine and then his mouth.

  Ashley inspected the vine. “It’s covered with little hairs. They must be poisonous.”

  “Ahhnng gignnnk knoooh.”

  “Let me see.” She knelt in front of him. “Look at me.”

  Bobby looked into her eyes, only inches away. He could see his reflection against the green of her irises.

  “Hold still. Move your hand!”

  She was right in his face, the closest he’d ever been to a girl like Ashley. Even after a plane crash and two days of sweating, she smelled good.

  “The hairs are stuck on your mouth, Bobby. Hold still.”

  She bit her lower lip as she concentrated. He felt a pinprick.

  “Got it. See?” She held it up, too close to focus on. “There’s a bunch of ‘em, so sit tight.”

  A few minutes later she held up the last hair like a trophy. Bobby almost wished there were more. His lips were a little numb, but they felt better.

  Ashley settled back onto the ground. “You may be the man-with-a-plan, but maybe you shouldn’t put random things in your mouth, especially in the middle of nowhere.”

  Bobby sat across from her and crossed his legs. He picked at his socks. The morning before, the socks had been white. Now they were brown and red with mud, dried blood, and clinging seeds. Ashley’s socks, he noticed, were much cleaner.

  From the direction of the plane, they heard Carlos’s voice, “No, that hurts!” Then came some calming words from Mr. Darnell that they couldn’t make out.

  “I hope the doctors can save his hand,” Ashley said.

  Bobby had seen Carlos’s hand. Saving it seemed unlikely. “Me too.”

  “What do you think is going to happen to us?”

  She seemed to want to talk, but Bobby had no answer.

  “Do you think they’re looking for us?”

  “I don’t know, but I think maybe we’re being watched.”

  Ashley frowned. “By who?”

  “Whoever trained Mbaiso. Whoever did that to those parts of the plane.”

  Ashley looked around them. There was nothing to see but trees, vines, and mud. “If someone is watching, why don’t they help us?”

  “I don’t know, but I figure they aren’t cannibals. They would’ve come for us by now.”

  Her brows wrinkled. He shouldn’t have mentioned cannibals. He thought hard for something better to say. “Mr. Darnell’s parents found a tribe here that had never seen white people before. They made friends with them by trading things, like knives and radios. The Papuans gave them necklaces and food and stuff. Maybe Mbaiso’s a present for us.”

  “Yeah, well that didn’t turn out so well for anyone. Mr. D’s dad killed himself.”

  Bobby stared at her. Mr. Darnell hadn’t told him that.

  Ashley looked around them again and then sighed. “Damn you, Lori, you bitch! I didn’t even want to come on this stupid trip.”

  “Who’s Lori?”

  “My mother.”

  “You call your mom Lori?”

  Ashley ignored the question. She started picking at debris in her hair. She reached back and swept her long frizzy hair over her head so it hung in front of her face. “God, look at all this crap.” She picked at it like she was angry.

  “You didn’t want to come?” he asked her.

  She kept picking at her hair. “Lori talked me into it. Said it would do me good to see how poor some people are. So I would know how lucky I am.”

  Bobby watched her fingers work. He wanted to reach out and remove the pieces she missed but didn’t dare. “You are lucky, I think. We both are. We didn’t die.”

&n
bsp; Her fingers stopped.

  He went on. “My mom and dad didn’t have the money so I earned most of it myself. Took more than a year. I couldn’t wait to get here, with the jungle and animals and all.”

  She looked at him through her tangled hair. “You really are a science boy, aren’t you? Mr. Darnell, Junior.”

  “At least I know what I like, and at least I like something.”

  Ashley flipped her hair back and looked at him. “That’s cool, science boy. I know what I like, too. Most people don’t know about it, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Horses.” She eyed him like she was daring him to laugh. “We have four. I like riding them and working with them.”

  “I didn’t know you had horses.”

  “I don’t tell people. So don’t go talking or I’ll beat you stupid.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’m going to have horses when I get my own place. That’s one thing Lori and Brent have taught me—if you have money, you get what you want.”

  “I’ve never been on a horse, but I think it’d be fun.”

  “Tell you what, then. If you figure out how to get us out of here, I’ll teach you to ride.”

  Bobby heard something approaching in the trees. He looked up and saw the brown-and-gold body of their marsupial friend. He hadn’t even realized Mbaiso had left them.

  “Shit! What is that?” Ashley jumped up and pointed over Bobby’s shoulder.

  Bobby turned and suddenly he was nose-to-nose with a strange face. He yelped and backed away. The new creature stood on its hind legs, with smaller forelimbs hanging in front of its chest, like a scrawnier version of the tree kangaroo. It was larger than Mbaiso, but its head was long and thin, and small for the size of its body. Its fur was solid tan except for a white stripe running down the back from head to rump. It raised and lowered its needle-like head. Mbaiso sat quietly above them, watching.

  “It’s food,” Bobby whispered. “I told you he’d bring us food.”