Dominant Species Volume Three -- Acquired Traits (40 page)

“You have
to help me,” she said to Paul.

“No.
You’ll have to help me,” he smiled. “I know where they are.”

“How do
we do it? Tell me.”

“You’re
very direct, aren’t you?”

“Yeah?
So?” she said puzzled.

“So we’ll
take the direct approach,” he said.

* * *

They lay
with sweat-slickened arms and legs entwined, the scent of their coupling adrift
on the chamber’s still air like a warm fog. Rachel brushed a wet strand of hair
from his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For
what?” he asked, almost breathlessly.

“For
loving me.”

“That’s
easy.”

“I
remember when I first saw you,” she said.

“Do you?”

“Yes. All
macho and cocky . . .”

“That’s
me.”

“All cute
and everything . . .”

“That’s
me.”

“And dumb
. . .”

“You’re
confusing me with someone else, obviously.”
 
She pressed her lips against his brow. He pressed back gently with his
head and smiled.

“We’d
better get dressed,” he said with a sigh and started to get up. As he turned,
he saw the slovenly guard standing at the barred door, watching them with a
leer. The sight of him made John tense up with anger.

“What?”
Rachel asked.

“It’s our
voyeuristic friend . . . What’s your problem, asshole!”

“Just
enjoying the show,” the man said glibly and sucked his teeth, “well, what there
was of it.”

“Go away,
creep,” Rachel said.

“You
should be nicer to me,” the man said.

“No,”
Rachel said. “I don’t have to.”

John
stood up naked, and staring right back at the man, put his clothes back on.
When he was done, he handed Rachel her clothes and used his body as a barrier
from the guard’s dirty sight. When he turned around to look again, the bastard
had slipped away.

“Snake,"
Rachel said.

“Rodent,”
John said.

“Cockroach.”

“Piss
ant.”

* * *

They sat
down against the wall, close, arms tangled, waiting. Rachel’s mind started to
race with fear, and she pressed her head against John’s shoulder. His scent
swept the fear away like a breeze for a moment.

“I’m
hungry,” she said.

“Me,
too,” he replied.

“I guess
they don’t like you to eat before surgery,” she said. It was meant as a stupid
comment; an attempt at dark humor. What it did was drive home the appalling
reality by saying it—like a spear, by the act of being thrown, pierces a heart

Rachel’s
face contorted with fear, and she clung to John so tightly with her strong
hands, he nearly winced. “I’m scared. I’m so scared,” she said. “Help me. Help
me.”

“Sh . .
.” he said. “Sh . . .”

“They’re
gonna . . . they’re gonna . . . Oh, God . . .”

Words
lost meaning to her, and she whimpered and squirmed against him, her feet and
hands working uncontrollably. Screams rose up from deep inside her, only to be
stifled by a wad of John’s cotton clothing clenched between her teeth. He put
his arm around her and held her as tightly as he could. When he looked down at
her, her eyes were clamped tight to block the universe out. He was sure the
stress would catapult her into the abyss of a seizure. He held her tight,
uselessly staring straight ahead, waiting for the seizure to carry her away to
some stormy sanctuary, if only for a few moments.

“Ain’t
that a sight,” the guard’s voice said. John looked over at the bastard and was
tempted to charge the door. At the sound of his ugly voice, Rachel retreated
further.

“What do
you want?” John asked.

The guard
sucked his teeth. “Time to move along down the road,” he said. “Time for your
surprise.”
 
He put his key in the door,
and it buzzed open. He came through followed by two other guards and a tall,
blond man in a lab coat.

The
guards flanked them and the lab-coated man slipped between and crouched in
front of John and Rachel. In his hands was a small metal case with a handle.

“My name
is Gerome Ehrlich,” he said. “I’ll be performing your alterations.”

“Alterations?”
John said. “That’s a laugh.”

“You
won’t be laughing for long,” the guard said. Ehrlich looked over his shoulder
and shot the guard a look.

“You
should consider yourselves very lucky,” Ehrlich said.

“Go
away!” Rachel said without looking at him. “Go away!”

“You
should consider yourselves lucky,” he said again, ignoring her, “because you’ll
live for a long, long time.”
 
He started
to open the metal case. Inside it were two large syringes filled with clear
liquid. He opened a foil-wrapped swab. “This is just a sedative,” he said. “It
will make things much easier for you. Give me your arm,” he said to Rachel.

Erhlich’s
hand reached out and pulled at her wrist. Rachel stiffened and pulled tighter
against John, but her arm finally came away from his shoulder, stiff and
resistant. Ehrlich rubbed an area just below her elbow with the swab. The smell
of alcohol drifted on the air. Ehrlich reached for the syringe. John sat
motionless until the urge to act, like steam in a boiler, reached an explosive
level. He slapped the syringe out of Erhlich’s hand and punched at his face at
the same time. The blow glanced off. The three guards were on him instantly,
forcing him down on his face with his arms behind his back.

“Let go!”
he yelled. “Get off me!”

“Hold him
there!” Ehrlich barked.

Rachel
cowered against the wall with her legs drawn up. Erhlich reached for her arm
again. This time, she let him take it. It drifted light as a feather toward the
second syringe.

“What are
you going to do?” she asked like a child. “What are you going to do to me?”

The
needle touched her arm. Erhlich hesitated and looked in her eyes. “Change you,”
he said. “Just a little change for the better.”

“But,
why?” she whimpered.

Erhlich
thought about it. “To make you immortal,” he said. “I promise it won’t hurt.”

“Promise?”

Erhlich
grinned. “Yes . . .”

Before
the needle could pierce her flesh, Rachel grabbed his arm and bent it away.
Erhlich lost his balance and fell sideways in slow motion.

“Somebody
grab this bitch!” he yelled.

The dirty
guard, twice her size, threw his weight on Rachel and wrapped his arm around
her neck. His sweat-slickened arm went under her chin like something wet and
alive, and she could smell his terrible odor.

She
struggled for a moment then was still. Ehrlich came at her again with the
syringe. “No,” he said. “You don’t want it, so you can’t have it. No sedative.
Take them to the lab. Restrain them and drag them by the hair if you have to.
I’m tired of this shit.”
 
He tossed the
syringe in the box, snatched it up and stormed out.

“Give me
a hard time,” the slovenly guard said to Rachel, “and I’ll beat you senseless.
That’s my kind of drug.”

The other
guards laughed.

* * *

“There're
two ways in,” Paul was saying, “one through corridor A and one through B. They
both lead to the lab.”

“So which
one?” Donna asked.

“You
decide,” he said.

“B.”

“B it is.
Ready?”

“Sure,”
she said with a note of sarcasm. “I’m always ready to storm the gates.”
 

* * *

He
adjusted her loosely-tied bonds. “How’s that?” he asked. “Can you get out of
them?”

“I’ll
have to wiggle a little, but I can do it.”

“You look
just like a real prisoner,” he said. “Who knows? Maybe they’ll give me a medal
for bagging the infamous Donna Applegate. Let’s go,” he said and slid the
transport’s door open. The jungle’s air rushed in at them, wet and angry like
the breath of some hot beast.

The first
wasp raced straight at Donna’s head, making her duck away from it.

“Aaah!
Shoo!” she said. Paul took a swipe at it. The wasp dodged the blow and hovered
at a safe distance. “Go away!” she said to it.

Suddenly
the air around them was filled with the sound of buzzing wings. Awash in the
scent of ancient prey, a hundred wasps buzzed close to exposed skin, testing
the air. As Paul swiped at them, the wasps moved away from the arm as if pushed
back by some invisible shield.

“Jesus!”
Donna cried.

“I don’t
like this!” Paul said, waving at the air. “We’d better get back inside!”

Then, as
quickly as they’d come, the wasps were gone, the sound of their wings lost in
the deep green foliage.

“What the
hell was that?” Paul asked, lost in astonishment.

“I have
no idea,” Donna replied. “Guess they didn’t like us.”

* * *

There
were tables, operating tables in the room. Rachel could see them. They were
long and wide and shiny, but too big. They were the kind of tables on which you
might operate on a horse. Above them hung tangles of the Verdian tools like
dark hands and fingers, turning and coiling at the end of vine-like arms. One
of them opened and closed long and sinister fingers rhythmically.

It has waited for me, this place. It has waited an
eternity for me.

Rachel
closed her eyes and felt herself tremble. She let herself be guided, eyes
closed, into the nightmare. She blocked out its images, but the thing slid
around that feeble barrier and assaulted her other senses. With the scent of
antiseptic and odd, faint sounds from the strange machinery, its coils
tightened around her soul. It was too much. She heard herself whimper, and a
few steps later, her legs turned to putty and refused to carry her. They lifted
her up under her arms and dragged her the rest of the way.

* * *

She
opened her eyes to see Erhlich standing next to the operating table, his dull
white coat smeared with dark stains. In his hand was that large syringe. He
held it up, propping his elbow in his hand with his head cocked, waiting,
slightly perturbed, like some pissy demon. Two assistants busied themselves
behind him. She detected a splat of the color blue in her peripheral vision,
but she refused to look directly at it. The blue robe could only mean Jacob.
She forced herself to look, but all she saw was an empty blue robe hanging on a
hook. But he was there somewhere. She could smell him.

She
wanted a seizure. She wanted one that would be so strong she would never wake
up from it. She would make it come. By the strength of her will alone she would
force open those doors of chaos and seek refuge there. She clamped her eyes
tight and rolled her mind backwards over itself again and again. But when she
needed it most, oblivion escaped her. Reality held her down, pressed her to the
soiled floor of this horrid place like a damp and giant foot.

“You
bastards!” John yelled. “What are you doing!”

“Please
don’t . . .” Rachel said weakly. “Please don’t do this . . .”

“It won’t
be that bad,” Erhlich said. “You’ll still be alive. I’ve got it all worked out.
It’s magic. You’ll see.”