MuTerra-kindle (29 page)

Weston placed one hand on his shoulder and said, “Take care of yourself, Bishop. Don‘t let hate be the driving force in your life, it‘ll kill you quicker than anything else out there,” he said before walking away.

****

While Frank Bishop had received all of the attention as the malefactor, his long-time friend, Dr. Maddow escaped similar criticism. He was replaced as the head of his department but was still allowed to work under observation by others. He accepted these adjustments without complaint and went about his work. Over time, he was viewed as harmless and somewhat flaky. He devoted all of his time studying flat worms. The others thought him odd and left him alone as he was not a distraction or reason for concern to anyone.

For the last six months he had been working with one of two samples marked 60 Mi. North; it was the only live flat worm he had left. He had divided the worm numerous times, and allowed it to re-grow to full size, while changing the water he kept it in, and providing it with high protein organic food sources.

When he examined the specimen today, he saw for the first time a complete and unaffected planarian. The few other specimens he experimented with eventually ceased to replicate themselves suffering from the effects of radiation. This one was different. Not only were there no signs of contamination, it was regenerating at a much faster rate, similar to those, which he first experimented with decades ago.

He sat back and looked at nothing in particular as a grin spread across his face. It was not one of joy, or happiness, but one of satisfaction. He had attained what he was searching for. Time was only a nuisance. It did not have the same meaning for him as it did to those around him.

****

As Bishop made his way to the rim, the sun was still a full hour from making its presence known. He headed toward the east. He had a small pack of supplies on his back and his powerful metal staff in his hand. He started to run as the cool air of the morning invigorated him. It had been some days since he experienced the satisfaction and state of tranquility he felt while running.

Several miles removed from the end of the valley, he encountered a more rocky terrain. It was not a mountain, but rather a series of buttes and plateaus. He slowed as he entered them knowing his view would be limited. There were signs of life among the rocks as a variety of hardy plants could be seen. It was a testament to the planet itself in its desire to propagate an array of life.

By mid-day, he knew he was no longer traveling alone. He could not see what was following him, but he could smell it and sense it. It seemed somehow familiar, but his sense of survival impaired any lengthy consideration. Whatever it was, it was not in any hurry to make its presence known so he decided to bide his time. When he came to an intersection at the end of the ravine, he saw the rock wolf standing off to the right side. He walked near to it.

“Didn’t expect to see you here boy. Did you come to say good-bye?” Bishop asked.

The wolf just turned its head a little at the sound of his voice.

“Maybe you’d like to come along. I don’t know where I’m going, but I certainly wouldn’t mind the company while I'm getting there,” he said to the wolf, and then turned to walk down the other trail.

The wolf considered this stranger once again. There was no doubt in his mind that there was some connection between them. It was unnatural, but it was there all the same. He left the wolf pack that morning on his way to his favorite hunting grounds when he caught the familiar scent of the man who had become a part of his life. He knew that once he found him he would continue with him. His pack was becoming more of an inconvenience as time went by. They were happy to have him provide for them, but he never fit in as the rest did. They were no more comfortable having him with them, than he was being there himself. He saw the man continue down the trail and made his decision.

When Bishop looked to his side, the giant wolf was walking with him. While he was content to be alone, the wolf’s company improved his spirits.

“Well boy, who knows what kind of trouble we‘ll get into? I guess part of the fun will be in finding out,” Bishop said in a cheerful voice as they walked together in search of their destiny.

AFTERWORD

Constructing a novel consists of much more than the story itself. To meet that end, I would like to thank my father for his patience in helping me with my initial content edit, perspective, and many useful suggestions.

I would also like to thank my editor, Carol Ann Johnson, for once again helping me to turn a story into a novel. Her work ethic is infectious and second to none.

I want to thank my wife for her enthusiasm and encouragement to undertake this project, and to follow it through.

Last, but certainly not least, I would like to thank those of you who are reading this. I hope you found this tale entertaining, and that it was worth the time and attention you devoted to it.

R. K. Sidler