In Situ (5 page)

“Ex-husband, hum, very interesting,” the man said quietly. “That’s very interesting
, Tom.” He gave Tom a look that Alex couldn’t read. “So, Dr. Moss, am I to assume from your story that you are not a medical doctor but rather a scientist of some sort?” the man continued, obviously playing with her.

Alex didn’t reply
, she just looked at the mysterious figure as if he were an alien.

”Alex is a paleontologist. One of the best,” Tom offered helpfully
, trying to break the silence.

“I see. Well, Miss, I mean, err, Dr. Moss, I would certainly like to apologize for any inconv
enience we may have caused you,” the stranger said.

Alex could feel her face flush red
, now she wanted to kill this guy. OK, smartass, two can play this game. “Wait, I still don’t know your name, who the hell are you?”

“Oh yes, so sorry
. My name is Batter.”

“Batter. Just Batter huh?”

“Think of pancakes, Doctor.” He smiled at his own joke which seemed to allow him to avoid the question of whether there was any more to his name or not. It was clear to Alex that if Batter had used that line once, he’d used it a thousand times, and he still thought it was funny. He slowly rose from his chair and walked across the room, as if it were a great inconvenience, and held out his hand.

Alex reluctantly took
it as if someone were handing her a dead fish. There was something not right about this guy. He smelled like stale bread and Old Spice. Someone had clearly given him too much power for his ego to deal with. His eyes were pale grey, and he looked like a man that lied for a living. But it was his absolute and total confidence that was most disturbing.

“Now, you were saying
, Doctor?” Batter said, seating himself uncomfortably close to her at the table.

Alex just stared at him—dead silence again which Tom soon felt the need to fill. “Alex is one of the finest paleontologists in the country, Mr. Batter. She specializes in the Cretaceous period and teaches
… err, I should say she is a professor at the University in Salt Lake. At least, that is, as of the last time we spoke.” He looked to Alex for confirmation.

“Tom, the last time we spoke it was not about my career
. In fact, I think it had to do with someone you had been cheating with if my memory serves,” Alex said, still looking intently at Batter.

“Alex!” Tom pleaded, his face
reddening.

Batter was clearly amused. “Well, Dr. Moss, I’m sorry and quite surprised to say that Tom hasn’t spoken a word about you before. Now, as I was saying,” he continued, obviously enjoying the domestic dispute.

“No, Mr. Pancake Batter,” Alex interrupted, fire in her eyes, “as I was saying, your little operation here just nearly killed me, and it destroyed a one of a kind specimen. That’s more than a ‘little inconvenience’ if you get my drift.”

There was a loud knock at the door. Some kind of aid
e in uniform entered. “Here is the file you requested, Sir.” The aide stole a glance at Alex as he handed the file to Batter. He looked back at Batter, and waited patiently as the older man thumbed the pages.

“Hum… interesting. All right
, Corporal, very good,” Batter said as he continued reading. “You will return the side arm to the young lady, as well, please,” he added without looking up, still combing through the file.

The
Corporal reluctantly produced Alex’s Ruger and set it carefully on the table, placing the loaded clip beside it. He looked back at Batter as if he were about to salute, then thought better of it. “Will there anything else, Sir?”

Batter looked up from the file and smiled at Alex. The return of her weapon was obviously some attempt at a peace offering. “Why yes,
Corporal, now that you’ve asked. Dr. Moss, you must be thirsty. How rude of us not to have offered sooner. Can we get you an iced tea, soda?” He paused. “Perhaps something stronger,” he added mischievously.

Alex just looked at him. Who
is
this guy?

“Tom?”
Batter asked.

“No, ah, I’m good.” Tom twisted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Corporal, two iced teas please for Dr. Moss and… well isn’t that interesting… and for Mr.
Hancock
here, and if you could scare up some bourbon and dump it over some ice for me that would be wonderful.” Batter checked his watch. “I think it is way past time for a cocktail.”

“Scratch one of those teas and make mine bourbon as well
, please, Corporal, straight up.” Alex’s gaze did not waiver from Batter. The Corporal remained silent and looked at Batter as if awaiting approval.

Batter was amused. Intelligent, beautiful, and she has balls. Here is living proof that Tom is the incompetent fool I have always suspected him
of being. He laughed. “Absolutely. Yes, please, Corporal. You heard the lady. And, make mine the same. Tom? Last chance,” he added, looking across the table.

Tom shook his head,
looking dazed.

“Now, where were we? You were saying
, Dr. Moss…,” Batter said, turning his attention back to Alex.

Alex watched as the
Corporal quietly left the room. “I was saying that your mining activity has just cost me the most significant paleontological find of my career, and almost killed me in the process. What is going on here? I have been just over the hill for almost a week, and I haven’t heard a thing until today. And, what is with all the military? What exactly are you mining?”

“Well, that is a long story
, Doctor, but, in short, due to a small problem this operation was virtually shut down for a short period and has only recently resumed.”

“No one completely shuts down a mining operation this big without a
big
problem,” Alex argued, sensing that Batter was lying.

“Did I say anything about mining
, Doctor?” Batter looked at Tom. “Anyway, your unexpected visit may end up being quite fortuitous for you.”

“Honestly
, Mr. Batter,” Alex said, finally exhausted with the game play, “can you get to the point? It’s been a long day.”

“Ah yes, my apologies
, Doctor.” Batter paused, and then leaned forward. “What if I were to tell you that we could show you something so incredible that you would forget all about your little dinosaur fossil?”

Alex looked at Tom, confused
, then back at Batter. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Doctor, that the reason we ceased operations was due to a cavern we accidentally opened up during excavation
. Well, there was that and some bureaucrats who….” Batter stopped. “Anyhow, the cave contains some things that a paleontologist such as yourself might find very interesting, far more than interesting, actually. In fact, I don’t think I would be going way out on a limb to say ‘astonishing.’ Wouldn’t you agree, Tom?”

Tom remained silent, completely surprised by Batter’s behavior. Alex had always had a pretty impressive impact on men
, but this was… well….

There was another knock at the door
, and the Corporal returned, placed the drinks and left.

“Why are there so many military personnel here?” Alex asked again, nodding toward the
Corporal as he exited.

“All in good time, Doctor Moss, all in good time. Salut
e,” Batter said, lifting his glass. “I do love a stiff one in the late afternoon, don’t you, Doctor?” he said, eyeballing her suggestively. He leaned back in his chair and took a long drink. “Tom, why don’t you explain what I am referring to?”

Tom looked dumbfounded. He had never known Batter to be so out of character.

“Well, Tom, I am assuming you can vouch for Dr. Moss and our ability to get
full
security clearance for her?” Batter asked, as if Tom were now the mystery.

“Yes, of course,
but….”

“Go ahead Tom.” Batter said, waving his hand impatiently. “You can probably tell the story much better than I.” Batter already knew that Alex would clear security. Fir
st, her file would have been completely reviewed by the agency years ago before Tom was ever hired and second, because he himself had just checked it again, noting the latest intelligence on her. He was nothing if not thorough. “Don’t expect what you don’t inspect,” had always been his credo, along with, of course, “trust no one.”

Tom was just about to speak when Batter’s cell phone began to ring.

Batter looked at it and frowned, recognizing the number. “On second thought, Tom, I have to take this call. Why don’t you just
show
the good Doctor here?” Batter turned back to Alex and offered his hand. “I am sure I will see you later,” he said, smiling, hoping he would have the opportunity to personally debrief her.

Batter began to take his call then covered the mouthpiece, “By the way
, Doctor, what you are about to hear and see is highly classified by order of the United States government, so unfortunately, you will never be able to discuss anything about it outside of this complex. It would, as they say, be considered an act of treason. Tom will fill you in.” He got up and walked towards the door, now totally preoccupied with the call.

As Batter walked out, Alex thought she heard him say, “Yes
, Mr. President.”

After the verdict of the Arzat Council had been passed Fet wasted no time.

She was well aware that she had infuriated Ag to the point that he wanted to
personally disembowel her. It was never good to cross an Arzat, especially one as old and ill-tempered as Ag. Fet imagined that given time, he might at the very least try to interfere with her grand plan just for revenge. Because of that, and because Fet honestly believed she had very little time left, she instructed the appropriate females to quickly assemble everyone and to immediately head for the lower caves.

There were a
bout five by eight Arzats in Mot’s entourage, including a few torch bearers, a stone carver, some Medicine Men, several of the older females, plus the eight and four adolescents that Fet had originally selected. Mot was very surprised when he realized that Ara was among them, and might have been pleased were he not so concerned about their fate.

The group slowly worked their way down a long and seemingly endless series of switchbacks. Parts of it were so steep that stairs had been carved into the stone floors. Even Mot was amazed that the caves could possibly be as long and deep as he was now discoveri
ng. Although he had lived in the upper parts of them all of his life, he could not have imagined before this moment their enormous complexity or the vastness of their spaces. Normally, there would have been a lot of chatter in a group of Arzats this size, but no one spoke, and the procession proceeded in the fog of an eerie quiet.

The group was
heading for the sections of cave where the clan’s food stores were kept. A very limited number of Arzats were ever allowed there. The entrance was always closely guarded and the area was strictly off limits to the general population. The penalty for trespassing, like so many other things, was death or banishment. The reserve food stores often meant life or death to the clan, so their storage spaces were treated accordingly, and guarded like treasure. To Mot’s knowledge, not even the most mischievous or daring of youths had ever tried to breach the security. No wonder, it was chilly and very unpleasant. Mot felt the entire world was on top of him, and he began to feel the uncomfortable experience of cold for the first time. Under the dim light of the torches, he imagined that he could actually see his own breath.

The Arzats
eventually stopped in a chamber, much smaller than the Great Chamber above, half its size, Mot judged—and cold, very cold. Mot had never felt anything like it. He was no coward, but the prospects of sleeping in such a place were frightening, just based on the temperature alone. I wonder how long we will have to stay down here, he thought to himself.

*

Mot had been elated earlier when the Council had granted him the reprieve, but the details of Fet’s alternative had been vague. Anything was better than death or banishment
, at least so he had thought at the time. Now, he was beginning to think that this situation might be worse. But Mot was determined not to show fear and disgrace himself in front of the others, and certainly not in front of his mother or Ara. He felt his body beginning to shake ever so slightly despite his resolve, not realizing that this new sensation of cold was causing him to actually shiver. Mot found himself standing on one foot, then the other, wrapping his arms around his body trying to stay warm. He glanced over at Ara and the rest of the adolescents, and found them doing much the same, their eyes wide with fear.

In its bowels,
the climate of the caves changed, from the relative warmth of the upper chambers, to extreme cold in the lower sections. This condition was a mystery, a phenomenon that worked very much in the Arzat’s favor, but had never been explained. Nor had anyone ever felt the need for an explanation. The work of the Creator—the natural chill allowed the Arzats to store food and survive in hard times—was all anyone cared to know.

It was in these chilly lower sections that Fet and the others would execute their plan. They were going to do the same thing with the young Arzats that they had been doing for eons with the clan’s food reserves
—they were going to “preserve” them.

The females had been working on the details of the plan almost all season, ever since the news had reached them about the death star. Each time the Hunters had returned with a kill, they had carefully rendered the fat of the animals and stored it. They w
ere going to pack the young Arzats in the fat along with one more very special preservative derived from the roots of one of the ground plants, and let the natural cooling of the lower caves take over.

At the same time, Za’
a had worked with the Medicine Men to come up with the proper herbs to sedate the youngsters into a deep sleep. The process would slow down their hearts and their breathing to near death, finally stopping bodily functions altogether, and allow the youngsters to silently weather whatever storm ensued in the world above. The animal fat, coupled with the preservative, would protect them and nourish their bodies until the disaster was over, as if they were incubating in an egg. The Medicine Men had assured Fet and the Arzat mothers that their offspring would be fine for many seasons provided all of the proper measures were taken to perfectly seal them—the seal being absolutely critical to the process.

Large vats of resin from the Ne’e trees had been painstakingly collected and stored for this purpose. The golden resin had been used as a sealant since time began. Properly applied, it produced an airtight cover that was so strong it had to be hammered away later. Meat stored for several seasons
could be recovered and eaten, as fresh as the day it had been originally stashed. The cave did not freeze, which would probably kill the youngsters, but the ambient temperature was very near freezing and very constant, perfect conditions to preserve them in a long state of sleep. The Ne’e resin would be the insurance.

In the floor a
long one of the walls, eight and four large indentations had been cleared of food stores. The openings were half a stick wide, about a stick long, and half a stick deep-just about the right size if the young Arzats curled up. They reminded Mot of some of the holes in the hot-spring baths. How he wished he were soaking in one of them now.

*

As Mot stood in the cold, he saw the
older females looking at the openings and having a discussion. He began to pray to the Creator that whatever the wise old mothers had planned, they would get on with it so he could get some sleep. The cold was making him drowsy.

Fet put two of the
guards to work clearing an additional storage space that had been carved into a wall just above the open spots on the floor. As Mot watched, he assumed that this would be his bed, though he would have much preferred to be closer to Ara.

The females, after what seemed to be an overly lengthy discussion, finally finished and approached the group. Fet spoke. “Young Arzats, you have been chosen among the many to survive the great fire rock that is soon to wreck the world. If the Astrologers are correct in their predictions, a great storm will ensue when the rock hits
, and much of our world will die, if not immediately, then in the aftermath. I have seen the rock with my own eyes. The Elders have seen it. Mot has seen it. It may be several seasons before the world is ready to sustain our lives once again. We have selected you, the strongest and most able in the Zanta Clan, in the hope that you can live through the disaster that is upon us—by literally sleeping through it—and carry our species and our clan into the next world when the danger has passed.”

Everyone looked at
Mot, the only one among the young Arzats who had actually seen the coming danger, but he was too cold and frightened to get any satisfaction from Fet’s comments or their attention. Mot was sorry now that he had ever seen the rock, and sorry that he had put himself in this position. He was very tired and just wanted to go to bed. But another thought suddenly occurred to him that caused him to panic as Fet spoke.

“We have prepared a drink that will help you sleep, take it now.” Fet said.

A large bowl was produced, and the older females began to distribute a dark liquid into smaller wooden bowls, which were passed to Mot and each of the adolescents. To Mot’s nose, the smell was terrible, but when he made the mistake of darting his tongue, his senses got the full force of the brew and he coughed and almost dropped his portion. But he felt the gaze of Za’a upon him, and dutifully sipped the concoction until he had choked down all of it.

*

Mot had barely spoken to h
is mother since his encounter with the Evil Ones, there simply had been no time. First he had been called before the Council, and not long after he had been led down to into the bowels of the caves. But he knew he had disappointed her and disgraced her in front of the entire clan. In the Arzat culture, the children were the legacy of their mothers and fathers. The behavior of any offspring directly reflected on the parents and their standing. In this, Mot knew he had failed Za’a entirely.

Nonetheless, he had wanted to ask her, when Fet had finally finished her long speech, one simple question
: “How do we get out?” If all of the clan is gone, who will release us? Who will resurrect us? Of course, the females must have a plan, he thought, trying to reassure himself. If so, he would surely like to know what that plan was. But Mot had looked at his mother and softly probed her mind and knew he must remain silent.

Za’a watched her son from the side of the cave. So handsome, so brave, she thought to herself. What a tragic ending for him. But tragedy was something she was not new to. It was the way of this world
, she thought. Za’a was not the only female who had lost children, but most had not lost all of their sons. She would owe Fet a lifetime of favors for tonight. Za’a had asked Fet to save Mot, and Fet had done it on her behalf.

Fet knew that Za’a was past the ability to generate eggs
, well past the ability to produce new offspring. There would be no more sons for her. Fet could fully recall when she herself had experienced the loss of her own womb, so she had great empathy for Za’a regarding her predicament, for what good were females who could not bear sons? This, at least, would give Za’a some hope that her one remaining son might live.

Like Mot, however, Za’a had stumbled upon the problem of the youngster’s eventual release. This had initially caused her great consternation
, but she was at heart an Arzat of great faith. The matter would soon be out of her hands and thrust into those of the Creator of all things. Now, it was her job simply to lay the foundation for a chance of her son’s survival.

She approached Mot and slowly reached up and gently placed her hand to the side of his head. Za’a could easily have communicated with him without such a gesture, but she was painfully aware of the fact that this was to be the last
time she would ever see him, and she wanted the physical connection.

“
I feel fear in you my son,” she told Mot without uttering a word, “but have none, for I have conferred with the Astrologers and have myself conferred with the Great Creator. You will live again—and thrive.”

Mot’s head was already beginning to spin from the drugged potion, but he was able to feel the sincerity of his mother’s words as they flowed from the tips of her fingers and they helped to calm him. For his part, there was so much he suddenly wished to say
, to apologize for and to acknowledge, but he found himself simply replying, “Thank you, Mother. Thank you.”

Za’a removed her hand from his temple and moved it into one of Mot’s
hands. “Here, let me help you, my son.”

“Yes, thank you
, Mother, thank you,” Mot said silently.

Mot suddenly felt like he weighed one hundred stones and fought to keep his footing as Za’a led him to the space that had been cleared and prepared on the wall. As she helped Mot step up into the opening, he could feel the layers of resin and animal fat around his feet and then around his torso as he
settled down inside the sarcophagus. Had he not been so drugged, Mot probably would have jumped out of the hole screaming, begging the council to kill him. It was like stepping into death.

The other adolescents had been similarly assisted and
, although he could no longer see them, Mot could hear their frightened pleas, though none of them had uttered an audible word.

Suddenly
Mot realized that he had not even had a chance to say goodbye to Ara. This disturbed him to the point that he momentarily overcame his shyness and he let his mind reach out to her. A few seconds passed, but finally he heard her response, “Sleep well, Mot. I hope to see you soon.”

Mot’s heart sang. He couldn’t believe it. Had Ara actually said those words? He could feel his chest tighten as his hopes soared. He had never had the courage t
o directly speak to Ara before. And there was promise in her response—not just in her thoughts—but in the way she had delivered them.

“Mot! Mot!” The desperate words of his mother brought him back to the present. “Mot, you must listen to me! Take three slow and deep breaths, and on the third, blow until you have completely emptied your lungs.”

How was that possible? He could hold his breath for a very long time, but…. Mot wanted to protest, but he was too tired to argue, he just wanted desperately to sleep.

He drew in one huge breath, then blew, another, then blew
again. The last breath, he took in slowly and more purposefully. Even in his highly drugged state, Mot suddenly realized, despite his mother’s assurances, that it was probably his last. There was the sweet smell of the cave air, the distinct scent of his mother, the water, the rocks, even the unpleasant scent of animal fat he was lying in, but the one scent he wished to smell most eluded him: the scent of Ara. He vaguely thought about trying again, but according to his mother’s instructions, he blew out purposefully and fully on the third breath, and dropped into a complete and total sleep.