Fires of Midnight (8 page)
Authors: Jon Land
B
y Tuesday afternoon, Erich Haslanger’s fascination with the results of that morning’s test had become an obsession. The subjects’ clothes had caught fire first, indicating that the focused light reacted with the material of their uniforms and explaining why that response had never turned up during animal testing. He was on to something tremendous here with unlimited potential.
y Tuesday afternoon, Erich Haslanger’s fascination with the results of that morning’s test had become an obsession. The subjects’ clothes had caught fire first, indicating that the focused light reacted with the material of their uniforms and explaining why that response had never turned up during animal testing. He was on to something tremendous here with unlimited potential.
Haslanger dimly registered the phone in his private lab ringing and felt for the receiver.
“Haslanger.”
“It’s been a long time, Doctor,” came a familiar voice.
“What do you want, Larkin?”
“Want? Nothing. I’m calling to let you know someone’s been making inquiries. The name Wilkins-Tate has come up several times.”
“Ancient history,” Haslanger said.
“Let’s hope so for your sake. There can be no leaks, nothing that can lead back to you. If there are, it would be wise to eliminate them now.”
“That’s your job.”
“I’m ancient history now, too, Doctor. A purveyor of information and nothing else. This crossed my desk. I thought you should know.”
“Thank you.”
“How is your new assignment going?’
“Well enough.”
“I’d heard otherwise.”
“A few setbacks, that’s all.”
“Glad to hear it, because we’re both at the end of our lines now. Nowhere else to go. Make the best of what we’ve got.”
“I always do.”
“Let’s hope I don’t have to be in touch again.”
Haslanger replaced the receiver and tried to refocus his thoughts on completing his analysis of the blindness weapon, but quickly grew distracted and decided to return to his office. He opened the door and froze. The lights inside were off, and he never,
never
even considered turning them off for darkness might bring on thoughts of sleep and such thoughts had to be avoided at all costs. He was fumbling for the switch when a powerful hand closed on his bony wrist at the same time a scratchy voice found his ear.
never
even considered turning them off for darkness might bring on thoughts of sleep and such thoughts had to be avoided at all costs. He was fumbling for the switch when a powerful hand closed on his bony wrist at the same time a scratchy voice found his ear.
“Hello, Father.”
“D
r. Lyle,” General Starr, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, challenged, after Susan had finished the core of her explanation,”would you have us believe that the crisis we are confronting is nothing more than an
accident,
as you call it, at the hands of this
boy
?”
r. Lyle,” General Starr, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, challenged, after Susan had finished the core of her explanation,”would you have us believe that the crisis we are confronting is nothing more than an
accident,
as you call it, at the hands of this
boy
?”
Starr’s reaction had not surprised Susan and she was prepared for it. “I do, sir, because all indications point to that very conclusion. Joshua Wolfe was obsessed with the need to rid the world of air pollution and decided to do something about it.”
“And what exactly did he do, Doctor?” asked Clara Benedict. “Or, should I say, where did he go wrong?”
“By far the largest portion of pollutants to the air—car exhaust, factory smoke, even the exhaust from lawn mowers—is composed primarily of sulfates and nitrates. These sulfates and nitrates possess a sequence in which the oxygen and nitrogen forming them share a specific and close proximity.”
“In layman’s terms, if you will, Doctor,” someone requested.
“The sulfates and nitrates are indentifiable from the inclusion of OHN—oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen—that form their molecules. Now, if you could teach a genetically produced organism to recognize and target those proximities specific to their chains, you would be able to effectively destroy them at the molecular level.”
“You’re saying that’s what the boy did?”
“I’m saying that’s what he
tried
do do. He made a mistake.”
tried
do do. He made a mistake.”
“Obviously.”
“To him, it wasn’t obvious at all. What Joshua Wolfe thought he had created was a living organism that, once released into the air, would attack and destroy the nitrogen-oxygen bond present in the air pollutants. The pollution would thus break down at the molecular level and cease to exist.”
“Only that didn’t happen,” noted the voice from speaker number three.
“Yes, it did, but the organism didn’t stop there.” Susan settled her thoughts, continuing to speak without benefit of notes. “Normal protein structure is a twisting mass of strands in which space is shared by a variety of atoms forming molecules at various proximities. Unfortunately, human hemoglobin contains several complex amino acids, which results in additional twisting of the protein strands, thus bringing the nitrogen and oxygen molecules closer together. To a proximity, in fact, that almost duplicates the proximity the organism was programmed to recognize in the sulfates and nitrates of air pollution.”
“In other words,” started General Starr, “it kept on killing after its primary objective was achieved. Sounds to me like this organism liked its job a little too much.”
“That’s probably not far from the truth. The organism would need to ingest the nitrogen to produce more of itself. The desire for self-perpetuation defines its very role and existence. So when it identified something else determined to contain its target structure, it continued to attack—to, in essence,
feed
: on human blood. That accounts for the condition in which the bodies were found—the drying and general loss of cohesion.”
feed
: on human blood. That accounts for the condition in which the bodies were found—the drying and general loss of cohesion.”
“And Joshua Wolfe didn’t anticipate this? As brilliant as you claim him to be, he didn’t perform preliminary experiments on lab animals, exposing them to … what did you call it?”
“CLAIR,” Susan replied. She had been ready for that question but her voice still lost a measure of its confidence as she continued. “And according to his files, he
did
and everything checked out. CLAIR tested perfectly safe. But in the Cambridgeside Galleria all the pet store animals, other than the dog that had been inside the storeroom, were found in the same condition as the human remains. I wish I could explain the anomaly, but I can’t.” Susan paused briefly. “The boy planned everything out to the last detail. He had the air-quality registers perfectly placed. He somehow managed to lure physical plant personnel out of the boiler room. He knew exactly how to use the air-conditioning system to spread his organism. He watched it all on the security monitors, and when it was obvious something had gone wrong, something horrible, he ran.” She paused again. “He must still be running.”
did
and everything checked out. CLAIR tested perfectly safe. But in the Cambridgeside Galleria all the pet store animals, other than the dog that had been inside the storeroom, were found in the same condition as the human remains. I wish I could explain the anomaly, but I can’t.” Susan paused briefly. “The boy planned everything out to the last detail. He had the air-quality registers perfectly placed. He somehow managed to lure physical plant personnel out of the boiler room. He knew exactly how to use the air-conditioning system to spread his organism. He watched it all on the security monitors, and when it was obvious something had gone wrong, something horrible, he ran.” She paused again. “He must still be running.”
Silence again took over the cramped confines of the communication center as the audio participants struggled with what they had just learned.
“Have you been able to confirm what contained the spread of the organism to the mall?” asked General Starr.
“According to the boy’s notes, and confirmed by the survival of the dog, he was working in the area of temperature sensitivity. His organism was programmed to survive within a very narrow temperature range, rendering
it inactive above, say, seventy-eight degrees. The temperature at the mall was maintained at seventy-two degrees. The dog survived because it was in a room with a temperature considerably higher than seventy-eight.”
it inactive above, say, seventy-eight degrees. The temperature at the mall was maintained at seventy-two degrees. The dog survived because it was in a room with a temperature considerably higher than seventy-eight.”
“We’re talking about
air
temperature here, are we not?” asked Clara Benedict.
air
temperature here, are we not?” asked Clara Benedict.
“Yes, we are.”
“But the temperature of the human body is twenty degrees above your seventy-eight-degree window. How, then, could the organism have survived once it entered the victims?”
“I’m not sure. Something to do with the programming the boy wasn’t expecting. Since the organism was airborne, my best guess would be a chemical reaction with the mucous membranes in the nose and mouth which caused a transformation allowing heat tolerance.”
“Hold on,” said the voice from speaker number one. “If this transformation occurred as you have represented, why did the organism
still
stop at the mall doors?”
still
stop at the mall doors?”
“Most likely the transformation only affected those cells that attacked the victims initially. When the cells divided, the original programming kicked back in. My associate Dr. Killebrew is en route to our containment facility inside Mount Jackson in the Ozarks to run further tests to determine the precise pathology of the organism.”
“Programming,” repeated General Starr, clearly intrigued by her use of the word. “You talk as if this boy was working with a computer.”
“Because, sir, through some advanced form of genetic engineering, that’s exactly what he did. Joshua Wolfe created this organism to be task specific, only to find it performed its duties too well.”
“Could he have purposely programmed it to kill people, Doctor?”
“If he desired, yes, but I don’t think—”
“What steps are we taking to recover this boy?” General Starr interrupted sharply.
“As of this time, none. In fact, until moments ago I had shared the fact of his existence with no one.”
“Good. I will supervise the search personally, then. I assume all other pertinent information has been forwarded to me.”
“It has. Only …”
“Only what, Doctor?”
“I have reason to believe, General, that he will be heading to Key West.”
“And what reason is that?”
“Materials found in the boy’s dorm room at Harvard,” Susan lied.
She had debated relaying McCracken’s revelations and his insistence that the boy’s Harvard file had been doctored. His admonitions to be leery of those with whom she shared information weighed heavily on her. But she didn’t feel she had a choice. Shortly after McCracken had left Joshua
Wolfe’s room, the registrar, Mulgrew, had called with the inventory list she had requested from the labs at the Harvard Science Center. He read it to her over the phone. Joshua Wolfe had requisitioned two vials tailored to the specifications of the substance he called CLAIR. According to his original plans, that was how many he felt he required. But later analysis proved he only needed one, which was how many he had used in the Cambridgeside Galleria on Sunday.
Wolfe’s room, the registrar, Mulgrew, had called with the inventory list she had requested from the labs at the Harvard Science Center. He read it to her over the phone. Joshua Wolfe had requisitioned two vials tailored to the specifications of the substance he called CLAIR. According to his original plans, that was how many he felt he required. But later analysis proved he only needed one, which was how many he had used in the Cambridgeside Galleria on Sunday.
That meant there was still another vial of CLAIR left. And the only way to get it back was to find Joshua Wolfe.
I
’m not your father,” Haslanger managed, not wasting his time trying to pull from the iron grip.
’m not your father,” Haslanger managed, not wasting his time trying to pull from the iron grip.
“Close enough. Now, shut the door.”
The words emerged as if the speaker had to force them through marbles held between his teeth. They were distorted yet easily understood, emerging from a terribly distended mouth that hovered at least a foot higher than the doctor’s ears.
“A light first, please,” Haslanger pleaded, as the shape slid away from him.
“Of course. That is where we’re different, isn’t it? You shy from the dark while I live within it,
live
for it.”
live
for it.”
Haslanger swallowed hard and shook his head. He wondered for a moment if he had actually nodded off and was dreaming now, one of his creations come back to get him. Yet he knew this creature was the product of reality, not nightmare. Haslanger felt his breathing turn shallow, as a coldness swept down his spine in the moments before his desk lamp was switched on. Angled down, its fluorescent bulb nonetheless produced enough light to quiet his nerves. A creak sounded as the huge frame of the visitor settled into his desk chair. Haslanger’s eyes, starting to adjust to the semidarkness, made out the outline of his frame sitting there, the big chair lost to his bulk. He shut the door.
“You’re early. I said eight o’clock.”
“I knew you’d be returning before that. Anything that requires my services always keeps you from your work.”
“This is a simple task, one I hoped wouldn’t be necessary.”
“Not yet … Father,” the shape said, and Haslanger cringed again at the thought. “A man like me likes to savor such moments, since they provide the rationale for my being.”
Haslanger swallowed hard.
“Of course, I’m not really a man at all, am I?”
Haslanger remained silent and watched the shape of something like a hand reach for the desk lamp.
“Answer me, Father, or I may choose to switch off the light.”
“You are a man, and plenty more,
much
more.”
much
more.”
“What is my name?”
“Your name …”
“Yes.”
“Krill.”
“Why?”
No response.
“Tell my why”—an elongated finger of bone scratched at the lamp switch—“or you lose your precious light.”
“You couldn’t say the word.”
“What word?”
“Kill.”
“Why couldn’t I say it?”
“Your … mouth.”
“Didn’t form properly, did it? Had me putting the r’s where they didn’t belong, so ‘kill’ came out ‘krill.’ Not as you planned. Like my eyes. They have trouble with bright light. I see better in the darkness.”
Krill’s muffled, raspy breathing became the room’s only sound. Eyes fully adjusted to the thin light now, Haslanger could see his contours clearly and most of his features. Krill’s face was huge and elongated, supported by a massive neck banded by thick, overdeveloped strands of muscle. His skull was similarly too thick and large for the skin that coated it, leading to hollows, fissures and gaps in the cheeks, brow and both sides of the jaw. The mouth hung open, the teeth resisting all attempts to close it fully. His hair had never grown properly, covering his scalp in thin patches that looked like scabs.
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