Light Plays: Book Two of The Light Play Trilogy

by N. D. Hansen-Hill

  Okay, he told himself, after reading the lab results for the third time, it seems like it'll work. If I can get his body to take the genes. And if I can get them to mesh into his own DNA.

  He tried to think it through. Twice, he had to stop himself because he was mumbling out loud.

  “Rick—”

  He turned glazed eyes in Eric's direction. “Yeah?”

  “I brought you some water.”

  Rick told his mouth to smile. “Remember your manners,” he mumbled, then realised he was saying it aloud, and added, “Thanks.”

  Eric stood there uncertainly. He didn't know how much Lockmann was really accomplishing, and he had the feeling it was one of those fixation things, due to fever. Eric felt like he was watching the man die before his eyes. The only thing that kept him from dragging him out to the car was the thought that Rick might, in his delirium, blame himself for not following this through—might, in fact, blame himself for Stratton's death. Rick already felt responsible for his illness.

  Eric still had the phone in his pocket. Weeks ago, Steven Hylton had given him a contact number, on the off-chance that someone might associate him with that night at Genetechnic. Half an hour ago, he'd punched the number in on the cellphone, but he had yet to push “send". He didn't have any problems justifying his actions: hell, Hylton would have people combing the countryside looking for Lockmann. They'd be checking with all Rick's friends, and they'd turn up here eventually, just to make some inquiries. With the push of a button, Eric could ensure that they turned up sooner, rather than later. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, and flipped it open. He almost dropped it when Rick twisted in his chair.

  “Salicylic acid!” Rick exclaimed.

  “What?” At first, Eric thought he was still delirious, but for the moment anyway, his eyes looked clear.

  “Acetyl salicylic acid,” Rick said. “You asked me what I could have. Remember?”

  Eric nodded, slightly stunned at the way the man's brain functioned. “Now that you've jogged my memory.” He sounded amused. “What about this salicylic acid stuff?”

  “Salicylic acid can sometimes trigger a plant's resistance mechanisms. They're still working on the mode of resistance, but I should be able to take it.”

  “Where do I get it from?”

  For just a moment, Rick was tempted to tell him he had to run out to his local garden shop, but he was feeling too exhausted for games. “Aspirin,” he said simply.

  Eric ran out of the room, and came back a moment later, an aspirin bottle clenched in his hand. “Salvation is at hand!” he said triumphantly, then realised how foolish he sounded, and sobered.

  Rick was grinning at him. “In case I'm too out of my mind to tell you later, I want to thank you while I'm in it.” He picked one aspirin out of Eric's hand, then tilted his head to consider it. He had no idea whether it would have the effect he proposed, but if he didn't take something, his mind was going to start wandering again, the minute his fever went back up. His hand hovered uncertainly for a moment, then he quickly snatched up two more pills, before he could think too much about it. He shoved them in his mouth, and downed them with water.

  “Don't you think a little moderation would've been in order?” Sterner asked him. He'd sensed Rick's uncertainty over how much to take, but at the end there, Rick had been too quick for him. He'd snatched the extra pills before Eric could close his fist. “Do you know what effect these'll have on you?”

  “No,” Rick admitted, “but I can guarantee it'll be better for me than two grams of hot lead.” He turned back to the computer, and began to scan the document once more. “Please don't call him, Eric. Not yet.”

  Eric didn't ask how he'd known, but he shoved the phone back in his pocket. “You've got fifteen minutes,” he said.

  * * * *

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he may have been compromised.”

  Cole looked at him blankly.

  “Kerrington thinks someone's recognised him. He has a bunch of information to transfer, but he can't risk sending it out the usual way. It could get him killed.” Wallace fidgeted nervously, then finally stood up. “I'm going to call Hylton.”

  “How important's the information?”

  “Pretty damned important—otherwise, he would have already left.”

  Wallace was almost to the door when Cole called him back. “What does he need?”

  Lou Wallace told him impatiently, “A secure line—something that wouldn't be suspect. What do you think? They'd let him walk out of the building with it?” he added sarcastically. He practically ran out the door.

  Cole thought about it for a minute, then began to scan the maintenance file. In a minute he found what he was looking for. Grinning, he rapidly began to type.

  * * * *

  Rick had skipped over Denaro's comments on SA22. It was all too personal for him to treat impersonally. She may have been able to talk objectively about her rats, but he had a hard time thinking objectively about his own body. Now, he forced himself to go back to it—to read what had been written there. The genes Denaro had introduced into the rats had been expressed, but SA22 had worked the best of them all. It may have been because of the WTV that she'd accidentally incorporated into her little cutting and splicing job. She'd introduced the gene segments with a particle gun, but it was the virus that had successfully resulted in the rats’, Denaro's, and his own systemic infection. Jason already had the virus. Would the virus link on to the plant genes, to spread them speedily through Jason's body?

  It was predominantly a plant virus, so Rick assumed it would have some affinity for plant cells—for plant DNA. But, it had mutated into a virus that could also infect humans, so would the virus even take notice of a few isolated plant chromosomes, floating around Jason's body? Rick had to admit he didn't know. And it might just do what WTV normally does to plant cells.

  But it might not. It might give Jason's body a chance to do that synergistic thing, to overcome the virus. Rick tried to look at it from every angle. In the end, he had to admit he didn't know what would happen. I won't give it to you, Jace, unless there's no other way—

  If I'd known I was infected with a plant virus, when I was still contagious, I would have tested my saliva on some leaf samples, he thought. Rick suddenly knew he needed to test some of Jason's, to see if it could still infect plants. He knew he was getting side-tracked, but the ramifications of it had just hit him. If typical hosts for WTV, like clover, could act as reservoirs for infection, then there'd be no stopping it. The vectors might be different—aphids versus mosquitoes—but there was always mechanical transmission. It'd be different if all the infective agents were gone. SA22 was still around—and he had no idea what had happened to Denaro's remains. Rick had to force himself to stay calm.

  I should have re-read her notes before. He'd known they were out there—somewhere—but the idea had been too grim for him to pursue. He'd made that foolish mistake, too, that so many people make: of assuming the “experts” would cover all the angles. He'd wanted the experts to be concerned people like Denis Rodrigal—people who would think beyond uses of the virus—who had a respectful fear for the damage it could do. And who would look at it from all angles.

  Maybe I should have followed up on it.

  Only, Rick had never wanted to see Caroline's workmanship again.

  But now there was an added danger—and twice as much reason to seek a cure for Jason Stratton. If Jace recovered, he'd have antibodies in his system, and he'd no longer be able to infect anybody. If he died, the virus wouldn't die with him; they'd freeze him or (Rick suddenly felt sick) they'd part him out while they tried to figure out how the virus worked. Their efforts would be genuine, with every good intention, but there'd still be live virus for someone to play with. Live virus that could easily get away, if what Rick feared was true.

  He went over it again, as he tried to decide whether he was thinking logically. “Am I still hot?” he asked Eric, as though
he needed verification of it for some purpose.

  Eric looked at him strangely; wondering if his mind was wandering once more, but he did as Rick asked: he felt his forehead and arm. “Yeah, but not like before.”

  Rick nodded with satisfaction. “Good.”

  The sample that was likely to help Jace the most was SA18. Rick wondered what had happened to SA 19—21, and decided there were some roads better left untravelled. As it was, he still had vials of SA 17, 22, and 23 to worry about. And SA18 to guard with his life, if he intended to help Jace.

  “How're you doing?”

  Rick turned and grinned at him. “Great. That aspirin made me feel like a new man.” He swivelled back to the computer. “I just have one more thing to check.” From what Rick could ascertain, the vials contained DNA that had been centrifuged down to a pellet, then placed in solution. Unless he wanted to kill Jason outright, Rick need to find what dilution rates Denaro had used in the inoculation of her lab rats.

  * * * *

  “Tell Hylton to get an irrigation truck out there.” The as-builts flashed on the screen. “Someone at Cliatso just called them about a repair.” Cole grinned widely, and pointed to the new entry on the records. “See—all logged in and ready for action.”

  “What the hell?” Wallace looked at him like he was crazy.

  “They have irrigation valves at these locations,” Cole explained, pointing to the diagram. “With wires hooked into a controller—which is located in the Reinhardt building. That's where the Simon is, isn't he?”

  Wallace hesitated.

  Cole frowned. “What do you think it is? Some big secret? Half the maintenance notes refer to ‘Reinhardt’.” He stood up and began to pace. “Anyway, at 3 pm—” he paused while he did a mental calculation, “—1500 hours, Simon's going to download his shit—his information—from the irrigation controller through the wires. But someone has to be there to catch it.”

  Wallace looked doubtful. “Will it work?”

  “Of course it'll work,” Cole replied firmly. He grinned. “I think.”

  The other man considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “Wait'll Hylton hears about this one.”

  “Yeah—” Cole smiled widely. “Just tell him it came to me—like a bolt out of the blue.”

  Wallace snorted in amusement, then headed out of the room.

  “One more thing—”

  Wallace poked his head back around the corner of the door.

  “Tell Hylton he should go in person. Just in case the sprinklers come on. If anyone deserves to get wet, it's him.”

  * * * *

  “I brought you some clothes,” Eric said. “Unless you prefer the Roman hobo look.”

  “The coat comes with me,” Rick replied with a tired smile. “It's part of Johnson's fashion statement. He'd never forgive me if I lost it.” Rick had turned off the computer and returned the CD to its case. “You don't mind hanging on to this for a while, do you?”

  Sterner lifted an eyebrow, then shook his head. “No problem. For now.”

  Rick nodded. He didn't like the idea of the boxed vials lying around in Eric's house. It was too dangerous. Only he, who had immunity to the virus, could handle them with impunity. Rick could understand why Simon had placed them here, but he didn't think he could just walk away and leave them in Eric's closet. At the same time, the thought of taking them away, and trying to find a safe place was a little overwhelming. As it was, he didn't know how he was going to manage the tasks he still had to perform, and get back to the hospital while he was still able to function.

  He nestled the box a little more firmly into the depths of Johnson's pocket. If nothing else, Johnson would find them and take care of things should anything happen to him.

  Eric tossed him a shirt. “Here,” he said. He helped Rick peel off the hospital gown and put on the sweatshirt. “Maybe I should've brought you some of Laura's clothing instead. With that lump of bandaging, you're almost a B cup,” he remarked.

  Rick grinned. “I think I'll do my pants myself,” he said sarcastically. “I can only take so much criticism.”

  “How did you get here?” Eric asked.

  “Very discreetly. I'll leave the same way. Thanks again, Eric.” He stood up, and headed for the door.

  Eric watched him for a minute. “Uh-uh,” he commented. “Now, how do you want to do this? I'll drive you, unless you'd prefer Hylton—or an ambulance.”

  “How about none of the above?”

  “Then I'll call the coroner. No point in wasting steps.”

  * * * *

  Simon read the transmission and was momentarily stunned. Not only had his downline cohort come up with a brilliant idea, but he'd given himself away in the process. No one else he knew—with the exception of Rick or Jace—would have referred to his dilemma as a potential CG.

  Surprise, amusement—and now, anger. He no longer wondered why Rick had taken off: he knew. Hylton had been manipulating them all. He'd intended to move Rick all along. Richard Lockmann had just beaten him to it.

  Cole would be furious when he found out—and even more furious when he realised what Hylton had done to get him out of the way. I'm just lucky he stayed on the job, Simon realised. Only Cole would have come up with a wacko plan like this—he'd probably started with the sewer system and worked his way up.

  Simon grinned. Cole would have loved sending him through the sewers, if only to ride him about it later. The “message in a bottle” approach. And, after finding out what had happened to Rick, he would have insisted that Hylton had to be there to fish the message out.

  Too bad. Simon typed in the maintenance referral for the irrigation system. It was just like his informant had said. Provided their retrieval device had a large enough memory, Simon could download a huge amount of data.

  * * * *

  “Could you call Hylton?”

  Eric looked momentarily surprised. “Sure.”

  Rick gripped his arm. “Just don't tell him about this stuff! I trust Hylton, but—”

  Sterner grinned. “No problem. I'll put it away.”

  “Eric, would your wife mind if I stretched out on your couch—while we're waiting?” Rick shuddered.

  “Go ahead, Rick. I'll get you a blanket.” Rick moved slowly up the hall while Sterner watched.

  Rick could feel Sterner's gaze on his back, and forced himself to walk slowly. I should be used to people staring at me by now. It still made him feel uncomfortable, and the weight of Eric's concern didn't help.

  Rick hoped Eric wouldn't hold what he was about to do against him. As soon as he was around the corner, he grabbed a pen off the table and wrote a quick “sorry” on the edge of Eric's newspaper. Then he stood up, leaned on the wall, and listened to Eric putting his computer away in the closet.

  “Is it all right if I get a drink?” Rick yelled. He cringed a little as he thought of the way he was repaying Sterner's kindness.

  “Lay down. I'll get you one in a minute.”

  Eric made sure everything in the closet was covered again, then punched the button to contact Steven Hylton. The line was busy, and it took him three times to get through.

  “Hylton.”

  “This is Sterner. You looking for Rick?”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “He's here, at my house.” Eric gave him the address, though he had the feeling Hylton already knew it. “Bring an ambulance.”

  “Is he bad?”

  Eric nodded. “Yeah, he's bad. But still kicking,” he added with a chuckle.

  “We'll be right there.” The phone went dead.

  Eric snatched up a blanket, and went into the lounge. “I'll get you that drink—” he began. He dropped the blanket and ran into the kitchen. “Rick?” He can't have made it too far. Eric raced out of the house and looked up and down the street. No Lockmann.

  Eric sighed and plopped down on the couch. He'd just picked up the phone, to call Hylton, when he spotted the “sorry” on the corner of his newspaper. �
�I just hope we won't all be sorry, Buddy,” he muttered, and punched in the re-dial on his phone.

  * * * *

  Eric was a little surprised when Hylton turned up personally.

  “Did he say why he'd left the hospital? What he was trying to do?”

  Eric shook his head. “At least half the time he was delirious. I gave him some water, and he downed some aspirin—”

  “Aspirin!” Rutgers looked alarmed. “How was he after that?”

  “Better. He said something about salicylic acid, and plant resistance. Anyway, it took his fever down.” He grimaced. “He should've taken the bottle with him.”

  “How did he get away?” Hylton guessed it wouldn't be easy.

  “I was in the bedroom grabbing a blanket—and phoning you.” Eric pointed to the wavery “sorry” on his newspaper. “He left me a note—”

  Hylton's eyes met Rutgers’, and Phillip could see the trace of humour there. “He's good at that,” Hylton said.

  * * * *

  “It looked bad. The wound was leaking pus—”

  “It was open?”

  Eric nodded. “Rick was surprised, too.”

  “I just wish we could figure out what he's doing—”

  Eric considered it for a minute. “He wants to help Jace. That's what this is all about. He has some idea that he can save him.”

  “Do you know how?” Steven asked him.

  Eric shook his head. “Just that it has something to do with Denaro. I think he has a fixation on it right now. He's sure it's his fault Jason's sick. Doesn't Cole have any idea where he'll go?”

  “Calloway's out of town right now.”

  Something about the entire thing was beginning to stink, from Sterner's point of view. “What about Kerrington?”

  Hylton shook his head.

  “So now you know why he came here.” Eric knew there was another reason entirely, but he'd decided Rick was right, about holding something back from these guys. “I'll let you know if he comes back.”