Amoeba (The Experiments) (73 page)

Day or night. If those in the bungalow didn’t look at their watches they wouldn’t have a clue which it was. Boarded up inside, the fresh air they only got a tease of seemed like a moment that would have to last them a really long time.

But even pinned up in small quarters, Jake and Cal found even smaller quarters to just sit and talk. They needed time alone
, time they hadn’t had in a while. Lying on the closet floor, each on their sides facing each other, they just talked.

The sound of a loud
, single Rickie moan seeped through the shut door. Jake looked at the door then back to Cal. “As I was saying . . . no.”

“You really don’t think?” Cal asked him.

“No. Cal, please, these amoebas, yeah they’re out there. But they can’t get in here. Now those Stasis could.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But this is lasting a lot longer.”

“Nope. Think about it. December, January, and part of February last experiment. Same amount of time.”

“Not constant like this.” Cal held up a hand.

“True. But are these things really constant? They’re just hanging out waiting to eat. They’ll move on.”

“Or according to your theory, be gone by the end of this experiment.”

“Exactly.” Jake nodded.

“Jake? Let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you think . . .” Cal paused when another Rickie moan flowed through. She shrugged. “Do you think I’m dead weight now?”

“Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because I’m not as agile or quick as you’re used to me being.”

“Cal, no way. When you’re nine months pregnant you’ll still be able to hold your own better than anyone I know, kick any beast’s ass.”

“You say the sweetest things.” Cal smiled.

“Thanks. And you know I love a challenge. So do you. And this pregnancy during this experiment has added that extra challenge.”

“It’s still been a piece of cake.”

“Yeah, it has. Even the pregnancy, except for the complication, has been easy. I just wish you got to do this at home, you know, in comfort. If you’re sick, you throw up in a nice bathroom.”

Cal laughed, then turned her head to the door. Rickie moaned again.

“Rickie!” Jake yelled. “What?”

“Sarge, like
, I am so bummed. I need some family time.”

“Jake
,” Cal spoke softly as she sat up. “Let him in.

“Cal, it’s
a closet. We’re cramped in here as it . . .” He cringed at another moan. “Rickie, all right. Come in.”

The door opened and Rickie scooted inside. “Thanks.”
He sat next to Cal. “It’s cool in here.”

“Rickie, it’s small
,” Jake told him.

“Sorry. But
, like, you guys won’t come out and I’m really bummed. Like, my friend is gone, and I feel so bad about it.”

Cal ran her hand down the back of Rickie’s head. “I’m sorry
, Rickie. And just so you know, he never left your side the whole time you regenerated.”

“Rickie.” Jake drew his attention. “Sometimes we lose people in our lives
, people that we care about, that are important. People that we’ll really miss once they’re gone and they leave this . . . this hollow feeling in you. You understand what I’m saying?” He watched Rickie nod. “Good, now knowing that, keep this in mind. Reed was not one of those people.”

“Jake!” Cal shrieked at him.

“Cal, what?” Jake held up his hand. “Rickie knew coming into the experiment that everyone but me and you was going to die. He should have been prepared.”

“Rickie
, ignore him” Cal’s voice was soothing. “If you want to feel bad, you feel bad. If you want to talk about Reed, talk about him.”

“Cal-babe, like
, I would like to talk about him. Can I?” Taking Cal’s nod as an answer and ignoring Jake’s rolling eyes, Rickie talked. “I just think it’s, like, so unfair the way he died. I mean, the dude was like the Iso-Stasis equivalent to South Park’s Kenny. He, like, went through all this shit only to die going home. And I feel bad cause, like, the guy had a hard life. Kicked and scratched his way out of his Little Orphan Annie life. Abused as a teenager in a boys’ home. Wrongly sentenced to jail for a crime his buddy committed and later confessed to. Went into serious debt to bail out the woman he loved only to have her leave him for another woman. What else, yeah. He got his modeling break, the first one ever, right, and what happens? He comes here and loses all his looks. But the dude trudged on. He kept his spirits up. I’m so bummed.” Rickie’s head hung low.

Jake actually felt a twinge of bad. “Rickie, I had no idea Reed had such a hard life.”

“Me either,” Cal said. “That really made his death even worse.”

“It did, didn’t it?” Rickie raised his head. “Too bad none of it was true. But you have to admit
, it sounded good though.”

Jake groaned. And bummed out or not, it didn’t take long for Jake to eject Rickie right back out of that closet and return to having his private conversation with Cal.

Set up in the corner that used to be Rickie’s cocoon spot, Billy sat with his laptop. It perched on a beer case, Billy’s little desk. And with his fingers tapping, Billy was oblivious to all that went on around him
. He worked on his sanity, one of the things that kept him going. His writing.
‘I keep hearing Jake’s voice in my mind telling me that this is just the last phase of the experiment. And that miraculously, in a month’s time, all the amoebas will somehow disappear and we will be lifted from this island. A part of me doubts it. Sometimes I wonder if Jake sees what I see. The carpet of slimy creatures that blanket us, hover over us, and wait to devour us. But I suppose we are safe in here. Locked away. We have food, water, and that is enough. My mind stays focused on my writing. And when I feel like being trapped in here is too much for me to handle, I remind myself of the great writers of the world who deliberately locked themselves away, and I pretend I am them. Like Hemingway, who rented an attic in Europe and slept with prostitutes and drank so much while he wrote that he . . .
’ Billy stopped writing and scratched his head, speaking his thoughts out loud. “Wait a second. Hemingway killed himself. Bad choice, Bill. Bad choice.” With a press of the button, Billy held down until some of his words disappeared and he began to write again, finding better words to put on his screen.
‘ . . . And I pretend I am them. Finding great solitude in seclusion. Using my mind as an adventure and taking that adventure to emerge with one of the greatest stories ever written.’
Billy stopped and smiled. “Better.”

Greg’s head turned quickly, shifting his eyes to Aldo. “You must be mistaken.”

“No
, Haynes, I’m not. You have to see it.”

“Aldo.” Greg nearly laughed at him. “There’s no way.”

“Damn it, I’m telling you,” Aldo argued.

Daniela stepped forward. “Could he be wrong?”

“No.” Aldo shook his head. “I know what I watched.”

“O
kay.” Greg held up his hand. “I am not doubting what you watched, I’m doubting what you’re making out of it.”

“See for yourself. I was working in my room and my eyes caught the news. This network repeats the news every hour. The story is coming up.”

“All right.” Greg tossed his hand up. “I’ll watch it. Barb, give me some volume.” Greg tapped her on the shoulder and moved his eyes to the far right screen. The Central News Network was printed in the corner of the screen, and a female anchor woman dressed in red stared at the camera. Greg and the other investors watched.

“. . . with the president’s arrival.” She switched papers and camera ang
les. “Psychic Mary Helmsman is in the news again, arrested for the fourth time this week this time in Houston for stopping traffic and urging people to repent because the end is near.”

Greg laughed loudly. “Is that it?”

“No.” Aldo pointed. “This is.”

To the right of the newscaster’s head a murder insignia appeared with the word gang across it. “In other news, authorities in Honolulu are investigating what they are calling a very bizarre gang
-type slaying. The unidentifiable remains of three victims were found near the property edge of Lexington airfield. The victims are believed to have been killed with some sort of acid, and were found outside a vehicle registered to Sebastian Ferraro. Though Mr. Ferraro is said to be linked to organized crime, it is not known at this time whether his remains were one of the three at the scene . . . The pope visited England today in an historic . . .”

Greg slowly turned around to the eight investors. “It has to be a coincidence. It has to be.”

“Acid, Haynes,” Aldo said. “You know what those amoebas do. Honolulu. Coincidence?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Strong and loud, Dr. Jefferson’s voice rang in the room. “It isn’t and you know it.”

Greg shifted his
gaze to Dr. Jefferson. “What are you doing . . .”

“Here?” Dr. Jefferson laughed. “How long did you think you could hide this from me
, Haynes? Or keep me medicated and locked in my room, overwhelmed with the flu and unable to be disturbed?”

“Dr. Jefferson
, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Greg defended.

“Bullshit.” Dr. Jefferson
, in an almost taunting manner, walked down the steps of the control room and straight to Haynes. “I thought . . . I thought at first when Paul died and the animals that somehow it couldn’t be. But it was, wasn’t it?”

Greg didn’t answer. He was silent, as were the eight investors.

“I kept telling myself that it wasn’t possible. You assured me. You, Dr. Haynes, said no. I asked you when you purchased Carrington to let me know if you found them. I told you Carrington and I created that batch and put it to rest over thirty years ago on that island. And you said . . . no. None were found.” Dr. Jefferson stepped closer. “And what else did I ask you? Do you remember?”

Greg swallowed. “If any arise, or were found, to let you know.”

“Exactly.” More meanness than ever was heard in Dr. Jefferson’s voice. His eyes were straight on Greg, his face red. “And why was that? I’ll tell you why. I’ll tell all of you why. Because I knew, I knew then and I know now, they could get so far out of control that there may not be a way to stop them. Out of control, Haynes. And you know damn well what the hell just happened in Honolulu. Honolulu? We’re not talking about an isolation experiment anymore, we’re talking about civilization. Ways to spread. Why in God’s name you would hold this from me, keep me in the dark on purpose, is beyond me, when I am the only person on the face of the earth with the knowledge to stop these things cold.”

A mumble of excited voices emerged from the investors.

Lancing’s was the loudest. “Dr. Jefferson, you can stop these things?”

“Yes
,” he stated firmly. “And we have to now. If they are loose in Honolulu, we have to get them now or there may not
ever
be a way to stop them. But before I do, you tell me right now Haynes. Right now. Did you . . . find them on the island?” Dr. Jefferson faced off with Greg who didn’t answer. “Did you!” He screamed in demand.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Three . . .” Greg swallowed. “In a freezer.”

“And you released them on purpose.”

“We just thought . . .”

“Why!” Dr. Jefferson grabbed hold of Greg’s shirt shaking him. “What the hell is the matter with you!” He shook him more. “What was going through your mind!” His hand trembled as he clenched Greg tightly, ignoring the pulls of the investors. “Do you realize what you may have done? Do you even realize that right now, even with my knowledge, it may be too late? Do . . .do . . .” His words slowed and his hands released Greg. “You.” He grunted loudly, hunching forward. Suddenly Dr. Jefferson’s face turned beet red and he grabbed for his own chest, cringing in pain and stepping back. “God help us all.” With a sway to his side he fell into a table. The weight of his falling body caused the table to break and the table and Dr. Jefferson crashed to the floor.

Greg broke through the investors who immediately surrounded him. He reached down to a still Dr. Jefferson feeling his neck.. “Oh my God
!” He turned him on his back. “Everyone move back!” Greg screamed out as he opened Dr. Jefferson’s shirt. “Barb! Get medical in here, hurry!” He leaned down to him. He listened for a breath that did not emerge. And despite the lost attempts of finding any signs of life, Greg began to try his hardest to revive and help a downed and motionless Dr. Jefferson.

They sat on the floor, the three of them, before Rickie. From left to right, smallest to biggest, with Rickie’s bad sense of humor placing Cal in the middle. Rickie sat Indian style before them. He spoke Rickie-style, but he also added a monotone effect. “It’s time to play, win Rickie-Meister’s money.”

“No it’s not.” Jake yelled from the bed. “I’m trying to sleep. Remember Rickie, I don’t sleep when you do.”

“Yeah so.” Rickie said.

“So, no playing games
,” Jake demanded lying on the bed.

“Is that your final order
, Sarge?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Rickie shuffled some and faced Cal, Billy, and Lou again. “It’s time to play win Rickie-Meister’s money.” He laughed at Jake’s grunt. “The rules are simple. I’m putting up my money for you to win to say I’m smarter than all of you. Or at least to say you can’t figure out how my mind works. So, like, for every question you get right, I’ll give you one hundred dollars of my Iso-Stasis pay of $64,200.”

“Wait.” Lou held up his hand. “Why are you only getting sixty-four thousand? I’m getting a hundred grand.”

“Dude, like, I work for the toot. I get three hundred a day.”

“That sucks
,” Lou stated.

“No way
, guy. It’s, like, the cool rate of pay. The only downfall is I only get that when I’m working for the toot. Otherwise, I earn, like, minimum wage working at Burger King.”

“That sucks
,” Lou repeated. “Only sixty four thousand?”

“I can top that
,.” Billy interjected. “Guess how much I make for being here?”

“How much?” Lou asked.

“Nothing. I’m not a participant.”

“Now
that
sucks.” Lou nodded.

“O
kay.” Rickie held up his hand. “Can we, like, play my game now?”

“No!” Jake yelled.

“Sarge, like, if you wanna sleep go in the closet guy. No, wait.” Rickie snickered. “If you do that, then you’ll have to eventually come out of the closet and, like, you’ve been avoiding that for a while.”

“Rickie!” Jake yelled.

“We’ll be quiet.” Rickie grabbed his question notebook. “Okay, I give you a hundred bucks if you answer the question figuring out how my mind works. But, like, I take it back if you guess wrong. Now, since we have no handy dandy hand-held objects that can interfere, I will assign each of you a sound. When you know the answer make that sound, and whatever sound I hear first I’ll call on that person. Billy, you’re buzz. Cal-babe, you’re ding. And Lou-ster, you’re Yo. Got it? Let me hear.”

“Wait.” Billy held up his hand. “Am
I ding or dong?”

“Dude, you’re
, like, buzz.”

“I’m buzz
,” Cal said.

“No
, you’re ding, Billy’s buzz, and Lou’s yo. Everyone try it.”

“Buzz.”

“Ding.”

“Dong.”

“Wrong.” Rickie shook his head. “Like, Lou, you’re yo. Get it right, guy, or I’ll not call on you even if you make the only sound. Do it again.”

“Buzz.”

“Ding.”

“Yo.”

“Fuck!” Jake yelled.

“Sarge, are you
, like, wanting to play?”

“No!” Jake answered.

“Then quit rehearsing with us, guy.” Rickie shook his head. “All right, first question.” He looked to his notebook. “Easy one. Name the capitol of the United states.”

“Buzz.”

“Yo.”

“Ding.”

“Fuck.”

“Billy, your answer.” Rickie pointed.

“Washington, DC.”

“Wrong. Rickie mind guy, don’t forget, like
, would I make the tribute to Greek mythology city the capitol? No way. Cal or Lou, either of you want to try?”

“Vegas?” Cal asked.

“Nope. Lou?”

“New York.”

“Wrong.” Rickie chuckled. “Hollywood guys, they rule with movies there. Next question. How can you tell if a pair of underwear is clean or dirty?”

“Buzz.”

“Ding.”

“Yo.”

“Fuck.”

Rickie gasped. “Sarge, you aren’t playing. Billy, you again.”

“Smell them?” Billy guessed.

Rickie cringed. “Oh guy
, that’s, like, gross. Do I look like the type of dude to sniff my drawers? No. Cal-babe, Lou?”

Cal and Lou looked at each other, each of them wanting the other to make a fool out of themselves first.

“No one?” Rickie scratched off the question. “The answer to that one is, when in doubt, toss them out . . . in the laundry. Question three. And guess what, I’m not losing.” Rickie snickered. “Oh, I like this one. Decipher this popular quote spoken in Reed-ESE.” Rickie readied himself. “Er uh a ed-er, aw ew ed-er.”

“Yo.”

“Buzz.”

“Ding.”

Silence, and everyone turned to the bed.

Rickie shrugged. “Guess Sarge doesn’t know it. Lou-ster?”

“For hot bad weather, wear a sweater?”

“Close
, but no. Billy? Cal?”

Billy tried. “Herds are much better for true leather?”

“Nope. Cal-babe?”

“Fir up the bed or jot two letters.”

“Oh! Oh! That is so close, but no. And, like, how come I never heard of those quotes before?” Rickie scratched his head. “Anyway, the quote was, birds of a feather flock together. Next mind baffling question. In the scary movie Halloween, what was the name of the creepy slimy guy?”

“Buzz.”

“Yo.”

“Ding.”

“Fuck.”

“Ding
, Rickie, Ding!” Cal waved her hand . “I know this. Please. Ding!”

“I believe I heard the ding sound first from my mom. Cal-babe.” Rickie pointed to her while Billy and Lou moaned. “Go on.”

“Michael Meyers.” Cal proudly guessed.

“Wrong,”

“Wrong?” Cal looked in wonder. “No Rickie, that’s right.”

Billy pointed to Cal. “She’s right Rickie. It was Michael.”

“Rickie,” Lou added. “It was Michael, I loved that movie.”

“So did I
, dude, but that answer is wrong.” He hunched when they all screamed at him.

Jake didn’t hunch, he burned up. “Christ!” He shouted and sat up. “It’s Rickie’s mind. Come on Cal, think like him. Creepy Slimy. Rickie’s not gonna think the murderer is slimy, not when he’s a monster. Donald Pleasance is who Rickie will say.”

“Sarge!” Rickie cheered his name. “You are absolutely correct-a-mundo.”

“See.” Jake walked over and sat on the floor. “And you people are pathetic.”

“Sarge, are, like, you going to play?” Rickie asked.

“No
, Rickie, I’m
like
going to win. Go on.” Jake waved him on.

“O
kay. You need a sound.”

“I have one. ‘Fuck’.”

“Cool. That’ll work.” Rickie bobbed his head, turned a page in his notebook, and continued to pound them with time passing questions of the Win Rickie-Meister’s money game.