Prisoners of Death

by Keely Caldwell

  Watching Ardammt and Tegan crumple into the mud, Dr. Worthington smiled his first real smile of the day. “Good. Take these two to the lab.” He motioned to other men who rushed forward and gathered up Tegan and Ardammt, hustling them to a waiting ambulance.

  Dr. Worthington. turned away from the commotion. His smile was still firmly in place. He decided today was going to be a very good day indeed. He’d get the subjects back to the lab and let his three junior scientists see what they could make of the male and female. Maybe he finally had a job for that alien biologist that had been knocking around the center!

  Chapter Two

  "Calling Doctor Calder"

  “Bring them in here,” Doctor Jon Worthington told the guards. Doctor Worthington propped the exam door open with his tall, bear-like frame and stroked his neatly trimmed mustache thoughtfully as he watched with mounting excitement the arrival of the two unconscious forms Mr. Bade, the center’s head of security, had told him he had found on a routine sweep of the center grounds. That in itself was exciting. Doctor Worthington always loved to scare the nosy locals. But the best part was that Mr. Bade had found with them – an escape pod. Possibly alien in origin!

  The guards carried the duo in, dropping each unceremoniously onto an exam table and left the room just as three men in white lab coats entered. Drs. Schuyler, Erwin and Calder rushed over to the tables and in raptures of awe and surprise gawked like children at the unconscious male and female

  stretched out on adjoining exam tables.

  Doctor Peter Schuyler was the first to hunt down his voice. “These two aren’t aliens.” He stared down at the man, as if the apparent deception was personally the fault of this man lying so quiet and still on the cold steel table, his startlingly blond hair iced with dried mud. “These are nothing more than a couple of young people, probably from one of nearby farms, out for some mischief.”

  Doctor Ian Erwin nodded his agreement, his little head bobbing up and down like a toy, setting his ill fitting toupee to flapping to and fro like the tiny hairy wings of some strange bird. “Yes. Yes,” he said, his little voicing matching his little head with its beckoning hairpiece. “That so called security force of Professor Styles must have grabbed this boy and girl to have something to do besides stand around figuring their overtime pay.”

  Twisting his small mouth in a small, vicious sneer so he looked like an angry rat with a stomachache, Doctor Erwin felt vindicated by his remarks. He hated Mr. Bade and his security team – mostly because he was afraid of them. Their authority and self possession scared the small Doctor Erwin so he hated Mr. Bade and his men and hunted out every opportunity to degrade their names and reputations. Doctor Erwin also knew Mr. Bade hated Doctor Erwin because he didn’t trust him. And Doctor Erwin hated anyone who hated him or didn’t trust him – which included most people.

  Doctor Page Calder, standing over the female and studying her smooth face and interesting bone structure with clear, compassionate brown eyes, didn’t hate Doctor Erwin, but neither did Doctor Calder agree with Doctor Erwin or Doctor Schuyler. “They aren’t locals,” Doctor Calder said with calm certainty, his gaze still pouring over the girl’s comely features.

  Doctor Erwin turned to Doctor Calder with a deep sneer. He knew Doctor Calder didn’t hate him – Doctor Calder didn’t hate anyone, for that matter – but Doctor Erwin still hated Doctor Calder because the younger, more handsome Doctor Calder was also smarter, more talented, more open minded and – most damning of all – had a full head of springy black curls. It made Doctor Erwin feel sick in his cold little heart. And it made him want to take the great Doctor Calder done a peg – or two. “What makes you think that, Doctor Calder?” Erwin asked, the sneer in his little voice a twin for the sneer on his little face.

  Doctor Page Calder didn’t seem to notice Doctor Erwin's sneers, either in his voice or on his face, so intent was his scrutiny of the female lying prone and unconscious on the table before him. “Everything about them makes me say it,” he replied evenly, indicating the clothing the girl wore. “The clothing is the first indication that we aren’t dealing with the errant children of a local farmer.”

  Taking a pinch of the girl's tunic sleeve, Doctor Calder wiggled it between his thumb and forefinger, nodding to himself. "This fabric is like nothing I’ve ever seen,” he admitted happily.

  Could it be? He daren’t hope that his life's work and the thesis of his dissertation were actually true. There was life out there and it looked like humans. Oh, if only it were true. He’d show Jake then. Then that pompous journalist would have to believe him!

  Doctor Schuyler calling his name brought Doctor Calder back to the moment. “What? Oh, sorry, gentlemen. I was just thinking that the bone structure and coloring of the girl – and the man, for that matter – bear no resemblance to any race or sub race on Earth, especially of Western European origin as we are. Also because of the similarity of clothing, coloring and facial features I’d say these two hail from the same racial group - perhaps even the same clan or tribe or whatever their social structure calls themselves.” Doctor Calder shook his head, his eyes straying back to the girl and her soft but strong face. “Nope. These two are not home grown. At least not our home.”

  Doctor Schuyler ejected a harsh bark of laughter, sounding somewhat like a seal hacking up a fish that had gone down the wrong way. “What utter rubbish,” he scoffed derisively. “Doctor Calder, I believe you have again been reading too many of your science fiction magazines and not enough of your scientific journals.” Doctor Schuyler's accompanying sneer was larger than Doctor Erwin's, mostly because Doctor Schuyler possessed a bigger face with an even bigger mouth. Doctor Schuyler ran a hand over his totally bald head in a well known gesture of superiority.

  He deeply believed that Doctor Calder was a dilettante who wouldn’t know an alien from a hole in the ground. These two punk youths on the tables were no more aliens from another galaxy than he was. But Doctor Schuyler sure hoped Doctor Worthington would put the fear of God into the two before sending them back to their village. He knew he would if it was him. And enjoy it, too.

  Doctor Schuyler turned back to Doctor Calder, who was now taking the man’s pulse. “Perhaps you should return to your office and leave the examination to the professionals.”

  Doctor Calder was counting seconds on his watch as he held the man’s wrist. After a time, Doctor Calder replaced the man’s hand on the exam table and turned to Doctor Schuyler, regarding him quietly and calmly until Doctor Schuyler started to squirm like a bug under a microscope. “I don’t think so,” Doctor Calder returned simply and abruptly turned his attention back to the girl.

  Doctor Schuyler was furious. Doctor Calder’s calm dismissal of both his comment and himself brought Doctor Schuyler to a sputtering halt. Voiceless to say anything, Doctor Schuyler turned to his superior with a gesture of exasperated appeal.

  Doctor Worthington bared two rows of chicle gum teeth into a facsimile of a smile, shrugging. Doctor Worthington hadn’t bothered to add his observations to the discussion. The bear like Research Director was content to watch his doctors squabble like a bunch of gulls fighting over a choice fish. Now, as he watched Doctor Calder hover over the girl as a guardian angel hovers over her charge, Doctor Worthington felt the need to clarify their mission. And it wasn’t to eyeball the specimens. Clearing his throat, Doctor Worthington spoke, his voice as deep and rough as the bottom of a gravel pit.

  Doctor Worthington lumbered over to the exam tables. “Doctors. Doctors.” He stared quellingly at Doctor Schuyler and Doctor Erwin in turn. Doctor Calder was still concentrating on the two specimens. He was checking the male for broken bones.

  Doctor Worthington bloomed a true smile. He already knew the results of his next words. “I agree with Doctor Calder.” Sure enough, Doctor Schuyler and Doctor Erwin looked as if Doctor Worthington had said he believes the moon to be made of green cheese. The two doctors scowled greedily at Doctor Calder who, at that bit of news, hadn’t even lo
oked up from where he was now checking the girl for broken bones. “These two…people are quite obviously from another world. That being the case, we shall proceed immediately with the procedure dictates.”

  Something odd, almost maniacally, in Doctor Worthington’s deep booming voice hooked Doctor Calder’s attention, drawing him back to the discussion at hand. His curly dark head snapped up from the girl’s prone frame, brown eyes gawking at Doctor Worthington standing almost over him. “Procedure dictates?” Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Doctor Calder’s hand automatically searched for and rested on the girl’s arm in an unconscious protective gesture while those suspicious brown eyes surveyed the bland, but at the same time stimulated, expression on Doctor Worthington’s shaggy face. “What exactly is the procedure dictate on this?”

  Doctor Worthington managed to look mildly surprised, “Doctor Calder, I’m shocked that you have apparently neglected your Center manual. You know perfectly well that after the establishment of other world origins has been made by a Doctor of this facility the next step is a comprehensive internal examination.”

  Those brown eyes nearly leapt out of Doctor Calder’s skull. He didn’t know that. He didn’t know it because in the five years he’d been with the Center he’d never managed to get past the first few pages of the drier that late autumn leaves, duller than gray dirt, material in the Manual of Alien Encounters for Center Scientists. But now he understood and turned to the other doctors and Doctor Worthington, the genial expression and easygoing nature rapidly turning hard as stone and twice as immoveable. “No. No internal exam.”

  Doctor Worthington’s dark gray eyes widened in surprise, but his expression swiftly closed. “Step aside, Doctor Calder," he demanded coldly.

  Doctor Calder stepped up to block Doctor Worthington’s access to the tables, his eyes locked with the Director’s “I said no. I don’t care who they are. If you want at them you’ll have to cut me up first!”

  Doctor Worthington looked on Doctor Calder with mild annoyance, as if the younger doctor were nothing more than a fly buzzing around in his personal ointment. “Really, doctor.” Worthington chastised in a tone that suggested he was at that moment exercising the patience of a saint. “This is neither the time nor the place for foolish heroics. Do step aside.” Selecting a scalpel from a nearby instrument tray, Doctor Worthington stepped around Doctor Calder to the female’s table and began to remove her tunic.

  “No!” Doctor Calder screamed. Jumping forward, Doctor Calder lunged for the hand gripping the scalpel, grabbing Doctor Worthington's meaty wrist and wrenching with all his might. Surprised by the suddenness of the attack and the force of Doctor Calder’s momentum, Doctor Worthington staggered backwards couple of steps. The scalpel slipped from his grip and flew across the room, clattering on the tile floor.

  Doctor Calder, a head shorter and fifty pounds lighter, was no match for his towering superior. Having quickly regained his stance, Doctor Worthington easily threw of Doctor Calder’s restraining hand on his wrist and gave the young doctor a massive shove that sent him sprawling at the feet of Doctor Schuyler and Doctor Erwin. The two doctors dragged a dazed Doctor Calder to feet, gleefully shaking him until his neck felt like it would surely snap and his eyeballs felt like they were coming lose in the sockets.

  Doctor Worthington choose a new scalpel, holding it up to the over head light to admire the brilliant sheen of the sterilized steel before turning back to Doctor Calder with a grim smile.

  For a long breath holding moment Doctor Calder was utterly convinced that Doctor Worthington was about to dissect him where he stood, such was the bizarrely intent gaze the Director caste on him. And Doctor Calder wouldn’t put it past the nut. Doctor Worthington loved to dissect things – and people. But the moment – and the look – passed and Doctor Worthington merely stared at Doctor Calder as if he were of no more significance than a tiny flea. “Doctor Calder, what is the matter with you?” Doctor Worthington seemed genuinely confused, his hairy caterpillar brows lowering to meet between round eyes. “I cannot begin the examination of the specimens if you continue to interfere.”

  Doctor Calder struggled in the other doctors' grip. They were surprisingly strong for a couple of pencil pushers. “You can’t examine them,” Doctor Calder insisted. "They’re not specimens. They’re people. Can’t you see that, man?”

  Doctor Worthington cocked his shaggy brown head. A caterpillar eyebrow rose in mild surprise. “They’re aliens,” he replied, as if that explained all. He turned back towards the girl.

  “I know.” Doctor Calder was straining against the hold the other doctors had on him, wrangling to try to free himself and get the girl before… Oh, God! No! “I know they’re aliens. But they’re still people. You can’t just slice ‘em up like they’re the Easter ham!”

  Doctor Worthington paused with the scalpel poised over the girl’s exposed breastbone. He turned his head to stare at Doctor Calder as if he really didn’t comprehend what Doctor Calder was talking about.

  It was then that Doctor Calder realized that Doctor Worthington didn’t understand. To his strictly clinical mind the man and girl on the table were just that – specimens - and he’d cut them up and catalog everything as if they were nothing more than a frog or a squid or an unusual new plant species. And that fact scared Doctor Calder clean out of his mind.

  Doctor Worthington was speaking to him and Doctor Calder tried to focus through his fear on what the nut was saying. “What am I supposed to do then?”

  “Interview them. When they wake up, interview them.”

  Doctor Worthington barked a harsh cold laugh. “Not necessary, Doctor. I can discover all I need to know about these specimens from a thorough internal examination.” Clearly feeling the discussion was at an end, Doctor Worthington picked up the scalpel and again directed the blade towards the deep valley between the female's tight full breasts, speaking to Doctors Schuyler and Erwin. “Observe as I make the first incision here at the breast bone of the female specimen. As soon as the skin and muscle tissue has been moved away I will open the rib cage and examine the heart, lungs and other vital organs. Observe closely.”

  “Stop!” Doctor Calder screamed, thrashing around to try and free himself from Doctor Schuyler and Doctor Erwin who were leaning forward to watch as Doctor Worthington lowered the scalpel to the female’s soft pink skin. "Stop, I tell you! For God’s Sake! Stop!”

  Doctor Worthington paused again, laying down his scalpel and giving Doctor Calder a severe look. Doctor Calder ignored the look of reproach but eyeballed that scalpel. “Doctor Calder, you are making a spectacle of yourself. Remain silent or I will be forced to silence you.” Doctor Worthington’s voice was low and calm and imminently reasonable but Doctor Calder didn’t miss one iota of the dangerous menace lurking under his even tone.

  But Doctor Calder didn’t care. Murder was, after all, murder. “No.” Dr Calder was working a hand inch by inch towards that scalpel. “You can’t do this Doctor Worthington. Don’t you see this is cold blooded murder?”

  “I don’t understand you, Doctor. You yourself just said these two specimens are indeed aliens from another world.”

  “Yes. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t people. You can’t kill people. That’s murder.” Doctor Calder held his breath. What he had just said was simple logic and from the way Doctor Worthington cocked his shaggy head it looked as if he were seriously considering the argument. Maybe… Just maybe…

  “They’re not from Earth, Doctor Calder.”

  Doctor Calder’s heart sank. Back to square one. Shit! “So?”

  Doctor Worthington looked confused again, like a young child who had been told Santa Claus was just a myth but didn’t know what a myth was. He gazed down at the petite, pretty auburn haired girl with the gently flowing curves as if he were studying a laboratory frog pickled in formaldehyde. “These specimens are not people from Earth,” Doctor Worthington said at length. “They’re aliens. Procedure dictates that established aliens are to be ex
amined internally, catalogued and stored for future study.”

  By now Doctor Calder was in a fury, writhing in agitation in the grip of the other doctors. At one point Doctor Erwin lost his grip and Doctor Calder almost escaped but Doctor Erwin got a firmer grip on the curly haired scientist, dragging him back between the two. Doctor Calder was now panting from combined fury and fear. It looked hopeless. “They’re not specimens, you boneheaded fool!”

  Doctor Worthington looked even more surprised. Doctor Calder didn’t usually get so passionate about anything. He usually puttered. Doing his work well, but reserving most of his energy for that hobby he had to prove intelligent life in the universe. How ignorant! Why his newfound passion had to be expended on saving documented – by Doctor Calder – alien specimens was truly beyond Doctor Worthington’s understanding or inclination. Feeling deeply uncomfortable with Doctor Calder’s unfamiliar response and not liking that uncomfortable feeling one bit, Doctor Worthington fell back on his old friend - the Center manual. “Procedure dictates….”

  "To hell with procedure!” With a final wrench Doctor Calder broke free from the doctors and lunged at Doctor Worthington, but this time the larger Doctor Worthington was ready for Doctor Calder and balanced himself like a massive oak bracing against a storm size gale so Doctor Calder rebounded from Doctor Worthington and, stunned, stumbled back against Doctors Shuyler and Erwin, who grabbed his arms again, this time taking a firmer – and infinitely more painful - hold.

  Doctor Worthington gazed coldly upon his subordinate and this time spoke sharply. “Now Doctor Calder, I have had enough of your theatrics. Stand there quietly and behave while I dissect these specimens or I’ll dissect you first!”

  Doctor Calder stared up at Doctor Worthington, his breath coming in short frightened puffs. He didn’t doubt for second that Doctor Worthington would slit him from head to tail right where he stood. The fact of which showed plainly on a face pale as a ghost. But where his blood failed him his voice backed him up. “Stuff it, mate. I won’t stand idly by while you commit murder!”