Twenty
Wallace spent ten minutes in the dark trying to find
a way to carry the unconscious woman up the flight of stairs to his
apartment. Rediscovering the fireman's carry and resting every few steps,
he reached the loft apartment and dropped her across his bed.
After locking up the car and the apartment, he paced
in a frenzy, searching the darkened corners for evidence of the vaporous
beings. They, at least, were gone.
He pulled a chair around and sat watching the girl
until she stirred to consciousness at first light, wondering who she was,
but suspecting by now that she was more than the vivacious
nineteen-year-old college student she seemed to be.
She stirred restlessly and stared groggily into the
gray dawn light. Even when she struggled to her feet, she only glanced at
Wallace, falling back on old, unthinking habits. She visited the bathroom and
showered, but she had no change of clothes. She reappeared wearing the same
soiled slacks and blouse.
Wallace watched her make breakfast. He said nothing,
not at all anxious to volunteer unnecessary information. It was going to
be bad enough when she finally gauged the extent of her amnesia and
questioned his part in it. Only occasionally did she pause in her
activities and frown, aware of something amiss and trying hard to put her
finger on it.
She set two places and gestured for him to join her.
"Are you going to make classes today?" she asked in a whisper.
"I don't think so." Wallace ate absently, then
discovered he was famished and attacked his plate of eggs and waffles with
more enthusiasm.
Melanie paused with a fork halfway to her mouth at
one point, then shrugged and finished eating. But she took renewed notice
of her soiled clothes as she cleared the table. "I've gotta go home and
change and let my roommate know I haven't been raped and murdered." She
thumbed through her books and notes on the table. "I can't remember any
of this. Christ, I've got tests tomorrow."
After she left without looking back or saying a word,
Wallace lay curled up in bed for most of the balance of the day. A horn
honked below at noon and someone knocked at his door at the top of the
stairs. Wallace met Nick at the door.
"How's it going, kid?"
"Not so good."
"Anything happen?"
Quick and to the point, Wallace thought. "What do
you mean?"
"Anything odd happening with you?"
"Why do you ask?" Wallace shot back.
Nick shrugged. "Something seems to be up. They
didn't say what. They asked me to pay you a visit and ask if you've
noticed anything out of the ordinary."
Wallace's heart began to race. Nick was bound to
notice him coming apart at the seams. "When I was a kid," he said, "my
Aunt Bernice used to stick a thermometer up my ass when she thought I
might be sick."
Nick chuckled nervously. "I've never been up
anybody's butt, kid, believe me."
"You were the one who warned me not to wind up a
specimen on a slide under somebody's microscope."
Nick paced the room nervously. "If a situation is
more than you can handle, you gotta trust somebody somewhere along the
line. It's just a matter of joining forces with someone you decide to
trust, someone who might be useful."
"Who?" Wallace said.
Nick turned back to him, his smile and his casual
attitude gone. "Some people who got stuck with the job of trying to
figure out what happened and to keep it from happening again. I don't
think they know a hell of a lot more than we do. They just sent me here
to ask questions. I don't know how else to handle it except to play
along. I don't know how much good they'll be if something more happens,
but they're not the enemy."
"I'll tell them anything that might help," Wallace
said. "Stuff like the stupid snake with wings doesn't help. They think I
hallucinated, don't they? It's not what they want to hear."
Nick leaned against the window sill and crossed his
arms against his chest. "You know why they hired me. They figured I
could be some kind of big brother and give you a hand dealing with
things. They don't want you to crack. You've been through a lot, kid. I
know damned well things haven't been easy for you. You can't be sleeping
any better than I do at night."
Wallace gave in with a sigh. "I appreciate it. I
got your number. I think about calling you all the time. I wish you
could help with the stuff that goes on it my head, but you can't. Nobody
can. You'll be there if I need you, won't you?"
"Sure as hell, kid. We've been through a lot
together. Clue me in when you need me and I'll do whatever I can to
help."
Nick headed for the door. Wallace wanted to ask him
one last question. Who was Melanie Cass? He resisted the temptation and
let the man go, fearing that Nick would only have part of the answer. Too
little information wouldn't be enough to help him with the girl. It would
only make it worse.
Wallace didn't bother getting up the next morning for
classes. His despondency was gone, but it had been replaced by something
far worse, a dead end beyond which he could not move.
Melanie showed up early,
agitated and preoccupied. "You're not going to classes?
Wallace, you need a routine, something to take your mind off your
problems."
She sat cross-legged on the couch, staring at him.
Wallace pulled on a pair of pants, leaned against a wall, and sulked.
She glanced at him furtively. "What happened
yesterday?"
"You fell asleep."
"How did I get back here at the apartment?"
Wallace stared out the window, not knowing whether to
try for the truth or risk a lie.
"Did something happen, Wallace?"
"Yeah, something happened. You've got some
explaining of your own to do first. Are you one of them?"
"Them?"
"Do you know Nick?"
She sighed heavily, confirming the worst he had
imagined. "Yes, but Nick doesn't know about me."
He looked around at her, waiting for the flood gate
to open.
"Okay, so I blew it,” she said. “When did you know?"
"The way you handled the guard. Did you know
Calloway?"
Wallace watched her grow rigid with tension.
"Wallace, I never lied to you. I'm a student here at Harthmore just like
yourself. I'm taking some classes for my own benefit. But I was put here
to learn what I could of your experiences and give you what emotional
support I could provide. We know you've been under considerable emotional
strain, but you're one of the very few who saw it all, you and Nick and
Calloway and maybe three Guardsman who aren't convinced they hallucinated.
"Wallace, you're the only one who may still be
connected to that incident. Nobody discounted the story you told of the
winged serpent. We can see the stress you're under. If the Willington
Incident isn't over yet, we have to learn as much as we can about what's
going on. You're our best resource. We need you. We need you to help us
to keep it from happening again."
"It's going to happen again anyhow," Wallace said,
and discovered that his teeth were chattering and he was trembling all
over. "But you're not going to believe me what I have to tell you."
She shook her head in grim denial of his statement.
"Nobody going to judge you, Wallace. Your psychological profile makes it
unlikely that you'd ever try to lie to protect yourself. You would
withhold information before you would lie. And we know more about what
happened than you think we do."
"Who are you? Don't tell me you're a college
student."
"I'm twenty-six and I've been around the block a few
times. But thanks for the opportunity to be nineteen again. It's been
fun."
"Who are you?"
She sobered and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm a
field agent for the Anomalies Studies Group, a group of scientists
contracted by the government to investigate situations that may pose
threats to national security, situations that require in-depth scientific
investigation and evaluation. I was loaned to them by the C.I.A. for this
assignment."
Wallace felt weak enough in the knees to consider it
a good idea to sit down. He pulled a kitchen chair around to face her,
preferring to keep his distance. He felt betrayed, but relieved by the
sudden cornucopia of information she had just spewed forth. "Why doesn't
Nick know about you?"
"We thought it might work out better if we gave you
an option, a father figure, or a girlfriend. We're both here to help."
"I like Nick better. He's been a hell of a lot more
honest with me."
"We're both cops, Wallace. We both have a job to
do. But beyond that, remember that we have our own lives to protect and
the lives of our friends and our family. We're all in this together.
We'll let you deal exclusively with Nick, if that's what you want. Not
that I won't get my feelings hurt. We were doing well together. I
thought we'd make a good team, you and I."
Wallace had thought so, too. He turned away from
her. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
"Wallace, the ASG has the resources of the United
States military at its command. Of all the agencies the federal
government could pit against this thing, we're the best qualified. We can
operate quietly and try to stop it before it spreads and reaches the
media. If that happens, if the world thinks it's being invaded,
especially in so horrible a fashion as we've seen, people will absolutely
panic. Entire economies could collapse, and that alone could be worse
than the invasion itself. It would certainly destroy any chance we have
for self-defense."
Wallace's tremble intensified. He didn't try to hide
it. Melanie, too, sat hugging herself, looking small and helpless all
curled up in one corner of the oversized couch. "Why am I so important?"
he asked softly. "I still don't understand."
"The blood samples, Wallace. The blood samples taken
in the hospital when Nick brought you in to have your wound bandaged. You
were infected by a virus almost identical to the virus contained in the
mushroom. The virus harbored DNA sequences. In some way, you've been
genetically altered, nothing as drastic as the mutations the townspeople
suffered, but changed. It didn't happen to anybody but you."
Wallace jammed his eyes closed. He had at least
guessed as much for himself. "I didn't think you'd ever believe it really
happened."
"The winged serpent wasn't part of the pattern we
witnessed. We're hoping it's part of something else, hopefully some kind
of intervention to help stop this thing. We're hoping you will be the key
to our salvation."
"And if you're wrong?"
"If we're wrong, we won't hold it against you.
You're our last ditched hope. We can't defend against the technology
we've witnessed."
"Then it's started again?"
She gave a nervous nod. "We found bodies nearby, an
elderly couple murdered in their own home. They were… devoured. Like at
Willington. Not quite the same pattern, but similar."
Wallace retreated to a far corner of the apartment.
Melanie followed with tears in her eyes and her hands fluttering
nervously. "Wallace, please. Don't send me away."
He followed the wall blindly, thinking that if he
reached the door and ran, she'd never catch him.
"Wallace, they'll send me away! I don't have
anywhere to go! I don't have anyone to go to!"
He paused, startled by the hurt and the desperation
in her tone of voice.
"I didn't know what I was getting myself into.
Nobody did. But I'm here. Don't send me away knowing about this horrible
thing. How would I ever sleep at night thinking that I might die like all
those poor people at Willington? I need to see this thing through. They
won't let that happen without you. Wallace, please."
He had only half turned to face her and tell her that
neither could he hope to go it alone, not for another nightmare-ridden
moment, when she slammed into him and held desperately tight.
