Amoeba (The Experiments) (79 page)

“Goddamn it!” Greg scrunched up his face and lowered his hand powerfully to press the mute button on the phone. In his anger, his finger missed twice before he finally ended up hitting it. “All right.” Greg ran his hand over his face, paced a few times, got himself together, peered up at his island shots, and repressed the mute button. “Still there?”

“Where’
d you go?” The male voice on the other line asked.

“Line problems
,” Greg answered. “All right. Listen to me. Do what you have to do, you got that? And get me that approval today. Find out what is up the Governor’s ass and pull it out if you have to, but get it for me today.” Greg huffed as he disconnected the call. “Barb.”

“Yes.”

“Do me a favor, get on our line to the President, and tell him what’s going on with Nevada’s Governor. See what strings he can pull. Christ, he’s the President. And stress to whoever you talk to that we need to test this project and we can’t if we don’t have a hot, dry piece of land to do it . . .” Greg’s voice dropped as he turned like everyone else and faced the back of the room, “ . . . with.”

In u
nison came an abundance of heavy stomping, getting louder and moving their way, sounding like the theme music to the movie Jaws. Everyone listening looked baffled as the stomping got louder and louder.

Greg placed his hands on his hips. “Does anyone know what’s going on
?”

Even the monitor observers stood up, facing the back door. Everyone was a bit afraid when they marching stopped. The door opened
, and five soldiers walked in. Before the double doors closed again, it was apparent that many more soldiers were in the hall.

One
older, distinguished soldier took the lead and stepped forward. “I am looking for Dr Gregory Haynes.”

“I’m Dr. Haynes. What’s going on?” He approached the soldier.

“Colonel Lawrence Johnson, sir.” He saluted then shook Greg’s hand. “By order of the President of the United States, this building has hereby been placed under the protective custody of the United States Army.”

Greg spoke above the mumble of voices in the room. “Why? This is a secure building.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but the security here is not as tight as you would like it to be. And the President wants to see that nothing disturbs the work that is going on inside this structure, especially with the threats being made against Caldwell, sir. Guards will be posted around the building and property and the corridors. And for the safety of the occupants, it is advised that no one leave the premises.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Colonel Johnson nodded, stepped back, turned, signaled his four men, and they walked out of the control room.

Looking at the investors and all those who stood around him, Greg, just as stunned as everyone else, stood speechless.

They all sat on the floor in the storage closet, hoping in the small closed in space, together, with all six bodies, they could generate some heat, some relief from the building they kept near fifty degrees.

“Mad Max.” Rickie pointed to Jake. “Like
, that’s who I see you as.”

“Please.” Jake scoffed. “Me? Do I even look like the type of man, end of the world or not, who would wander around like that
? Aimless and alone?”

“Jake’s right
,” Cal said. “I don’t see him doing that. I see Jake taking me and the kids, finding a secluded piece of land and staying there, living there alone the rest of our lives.”

“See.” Jake pointed to Cal. “People wonder why we’re married. She knows me so well.”

Stan agreed. “That, and you both have this obsession with near death.”

“Dude, like
, that’s because it’s an aphrodisiac to them, guy.” Rickie snickered.

“You know
,” Lou spoke up. “I could be Mad Max.”

“Dude!” Rickie shrieked with excitement. “Like
, whoa. I can see that, guy. Lou Max, the man, the myth. Wandering around no man’s land. Without a shirt, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And, like, guy, you’ll be getting all the post apocalyptic babes.”

“What about me?” Billy asked. “Since you’re being a fortune teller
, what do you see me as in the post apocalyptic world, Rickie?”

“Dead.”

Everyone laughed.

Rickie’s head bobbed back and forth. “No offense guy, but throw a nomad your way and you’ll fold.”

“You’re probably right,” Billy stated. “Of course, you’d have to admit, If I did survive, I may not be able to defend myself, but bet me I have one of the nicest houses in the post apocalyptic world. I can decorate.”

“You
can
decorate,” Cal agreed.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Oh
, now that’s important.”

“Sarge, like
, can I be serious for a second?” Rickie asked.

“When are you ever serious
, Rickie?”

“Never. But
, like, can I be now? I have to ask you a really serious question.”

“Sure.” Jake agreed. “Go on. But no trying to make a fool out of me.”

“Dude, like, I promise.” Rickie raised his left hand, and Jake grunted. “Anyway, I was buzzing in on the news this morning, which by the way, Billy, your reporter buddy got, like, the first question at the news conference.” After Billy whined, Rickie continued. “Anyhow, like, the babe that wears all the make up, she was, like, saying that even though the President is denying it, there’s, like, these rumors that the Reds, Russia and China, are, like, threatening to take matters into their own hands. Would they do that? You’re, like, the military guy, so you’ll know.”

“If what is happening is really happening . . .” Jake cringed when everyone moaned
, “. . .then yes, I can see that happening.”

“Well
, what will we do?” Rickie asked.

“Depends.” Jake shrugged. “Depends on what they do. And then basically, we do one better.”

“Could it escalate?”

“It could
,” Jake answered. “Under normal circumstance, war circumstances, it would start as a ground confrontation somewhere and build from there. The only problem is, whether in peace times or not, a nuclear weapon has been used, and that really opens up the playing field.”

Rickie was full of questions. “So
, like, you’re saying this could actually turn into world war three?”

Jake tilted his head. “Depends again. It’s hard to say. But . . . yes. It could.”

“So, like, what would you do? Say we get off this island and war broke out. You’re, like, the man in North Carolina. Would you see a nuclear attack coming first?”

Jake hesitated. “Yes. I’d know before most people.”

“Would you tell us?” Rickie asked.

“Yes.”

“And then meet us, right? You’d tell us where to go and then meet us. You wouldn’t leave me and Cal-babe alone, would you?”

Jake shook his head. “Seriously
, if it came down to it, there comes a time when your career comes first, and there are times that your career doesn’t. A total nuclear holocaust is not one of those times. I can probably say in all honesty that I would go AWOL and be with my family. I would not sit in a plane watching the country’s destruction knowing that my wife and family are down there. I couldn’t do it.”

“Oh
, Jake,” Cal said breathily. “Look, you gave me chills.” She showed him her arm. “I’m gonna cry. That was so touching.”

Jake smiled. “But . . .” He held up his hand. “It’s totally hypothetical. Because all of us are going to walk off this island, sit down, have a beer
- except for Cal that is - and laugh at the elaborate measures this experiment has gone to.”

Once again, like they had done every other time Jake tossed out his disbelief, everyone moaned at him.

A hazy cloud of cigarette smoke lingered thickly in Aldo’s room. He brought his hand down blindly to the ashtray flicking the ash, missing the overflowing gold dish and spraying ashes everywhere. He had done so for a while, and the gray speckles showed that. Crumbled packs of cigarettes were sprawled about the room. Aldo coughed, and kept his eyes on the television, smashing out the cigarette, picking up his pack, and grabbing another one. The flame on his Zippo rose high and blocked his vision of the television for a second as he lit the cigarette.

The metal lid to the lighter clanked loudly as Aldo closed it then tossed it on the table. He blew out the smoke
from the long hit he had taken, adding to the cloud already hanging in the room. His dark eyes were even darker, and his face was pale with worry. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, because Aldo hadn’t. His hair curly instead of combed straight, and he wore a sweat suit instead of a business suit. In the quiet of the center when everyone else but those on duty slept, Aldo didn’t. He couldn’t. The news and all that was happening in the world had become an addiction, and he just couldn’t stop watching, whether it was wearing him down or not.

“At eleven p.m. eastern standard time yesterday, rumors were put to rest when President Wilson confirmed that both Russia and China have issued a stern warning to the United States
,” the Central News Network anchorwoman said. “Believing it to be a biological weapon gone awry, President Ishtakov urged the United States to move in what he called a malicious violation of humanity. He stated that if measures are not taken immediately to rectify the situation in the pacific, in the best interest of humankind, he and other allies would take the necessary measures to handle it. President Wilson responded to the warning by saying that any unauthorized move would be considered an act of war, and the United States would act accordingly. Experts believe that escalation of tension between the two super powers is imminent.”

Aldo shut off the television. He would leave and watch it with someone else he knew would talk to him. So, cigarette in mouth, he grabbed his pack
and a little bag of candy, and left his room.

The halls were dimly lit, as they always were
at that time of night. He stopped for two cups of coffee at the vending area and proceeded to the control room knowing that Barb was pulling a shift alone, and figuring she could use some company. Or at least he hoped she would. The soldier posted at the door opened it for Aldo.

“Thanks.” Aldo smiled. “Lots of traffic tonight?”

He shook his head. “No. Not much.”

“Raisinette?” Aldo lifted the little yellow bag gripped between the two fingers that also clenched a cup of coffee.

“No.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

Aldo slipped inside and the door closed behind him. Barb wasn’t watching the news, nor was there any noise at all in the control room except for a steady dripping. Normal for when the participants slept. And Aldo chuckled when he saw
that Barb was sleeping. “Hey ya, kid. Brought you some coffee. Wake up.” He stepped down the stairs and moved to where Barb, like so many times before, had her head down. “Barb,” Aldo called to her moving closer. “You have to get up or you’ll lose your job. Not like anyone else wants it. Barb.” Aldo reached to set down the coffees and they fell from his hand to the floor when he saw the reason for the dripping noise. The entire counter was covered with blood, and it had formed a puddle under Barb’s head. There was so much there that it had overflowed onto the floor. “Oh my God.” Aldo touched her shoulder and Barb’s cold, lifeless body, slipped to the right and off the chair. A gouge so huge ran across her neck that her head had been nearly severed. Aldo backed up and spun around to run and get help, but he stopped cold when a revolver was shoved point blank in his face.

Caruso clicked back the hammer of the gun he held. “It’s over.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Look what we did. Look Aldo.”

“I see what
you
did,” Aldo argued.

“She argued with me.” Caruso had tears in his eyes. “She argued and said the world is not over. How could she say that? All those people we killed. And more. We’ve started
World War III because of our greed.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind
,” Aldo said, trying to stay fearless. It wasn’t the first time in his life he had stood facing the barrel of a revolver, and he highly doubted it would be his last.

“We’re all gonna pay
, Aldo. Damnation is our punishment. I don’t want to be around when the world ends. None of us deserve to be here if it doesn’t.”

“Maybe you don’t
, but I do. And I will watch the world be saved.”

“No you won’t.” Caruso kept his aim on Aldo. “I won’t let you.”

“What are you gonna do? Kill me like you killed Barb? Huh?” Aldo’s face turned red. “You pathetic piece of shit. You wanna take a life, take your own! You’re pissing me off. If you’re gonna shoot me then do it. Don’t stand here before me with a shaking gun in my face. What do you want me to do, cower to you? Well, I won’t do it. Either step aside so I can get someone, or shoot the goddamn gun. But don’t waste my time!”

Bang!

^^^^

Douglass and Ivan paused at the double control room doors to let the four men from the coroner’s office through, two teams of two, each carrying a body bag.

With a sickening feeling in his gut, and still shaking from the rude pre-dawn awakening, Douglass stepped in first. He and Ivan were the last two to stumble out of bed and get down there. Greg and the others
, Colin and a distraught Lyle, were already there. . Clean up crews were working on mopping up the blood that seemed to be everywhere.

Greg was even shaken, or at least looked it when he approached the pair.

“What . . . what happened?” Douglass asked.

“Caruso lost it.” Greg rubbed his own head. “From what we gathered, he came in here,
and killed Barb while she worked. I don’t even think she saw it coming.”

Ivan glanced down to the room. “What about Aldo?”

Greg turned his head. “Surprisingly, Aldo isn’t shaken. Agitated, yes. Drunk right now, oh boy.” Greg whistled. “Of course. maybe now he’ll pass out and get some sleep.”

“Maybe.” Ivan peered at Aldo. “I’m still concerned for him. This was a traumatic experience.” Keeping his focus on Aldo who sat in a chair smoking a cigarette, Ivan moved with Douglass to check on the man
who, though a fellow investor, had become sort of a friend.