It Lives Again (11 page)

“Where’s my child?” asked Eugene, vaguely impatient at these scientific projections. This was the first time he had used those words to describe the infant. The terminology was not lost on Dr. Forrest.

“In one of the laboratories upstairs,” answered Dr. Perry, “undergoing tests. Eventually it’ll be moved down here. We find that being with the others calms them. We try to create an artificial environment for them while at the same time maximizing protective measures to assure that they won’t . . .” Perry hesitated “wander off.”

At the bottom of the stairs was a massive steel door, recently installed, judging from the fresh cement around the edges, and built for just this purpose. Dr. Perry was about to place one of his numerous keys into the heavy brass lock.

“Dr. Perry was head of the Genetics Department of Loyola University before he joined us six months ago,” said Dr. Forrest.

“Yes.” Dr. Perry smiled. “This was an opportunity that none of us ever dreamed could happen, a leap into the future, so to speak.”

“And suppose you’re wrong? Suppose they can’t be trained or tamed?” asked Eugene, looking at the perplexed Dr. Perry. The key didn’t fit; he had the wrong key.

“We’re not trying to make them pets,” replied Dr. Perry, squinting with his poor eyesight, fretfully searching for the right key.

“We want them to achieve their maximum capability,” said Forrest, smiling a little at Dr. Perry’s obvious difficulty, “whatever that might be.”

“I don’t know how to say what I mean, but . . .” struggled Eugene.

“What you’re asking is,” said Dr. Perry, irritated, then exalted—he’d found the right key—“if they don’t prove compatible with the human race, what then? Do we destroy them?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s what I mean,” answered Eugene, not entirely sure.

“We just don’t know yet, Mr. Scott. We have to take this one step at a time. As in many scientific studies, we just are not yet ready to think about further procedures,” said Dr. Forrest.

The lock went “click.” The steel door eased open. Eugene Scott was led inside.

The room. The lights were a strange amber color. Eugene had difficulty adjusting to it. There was a strange hissing of some artificial life-support system, constantly in operation, constantly pumping, almost like the thumping of a human heart. Adjusting to the light and moving deeper in the room, Eugene caught sight of the edges of the enclosures in which the creatures were kept. They were moving around in there, two of them, close to the restraining bars, as they tried to see who had come into their place. Who was this stranger who stood at the doorway, afraid to show himself fully?

From Eugene’s angle, he was able to see little more than their outline; the body, small but impossibly muscular; not covered with hair, as one would expect, but smooth, like a human. And yet they walked on all fours, with a head far too large for their current-sized bodies.

“I’ve named them,” said Dr. Perry, looking at them fondly, moving closer to the creatures than Eugene would have liked him to be. “I suppose that’s the first necessity with a child. Probably in poor taste, blasphemous, but I’ve called them Adam and Eve. Why not?” He smiled. “I thought it was a good joke at the time.”

Suddenly, a rattling noise; for some reason the creatures were agitated. Eugene moved back, unable to control his sense of horror and fear.

“They know you’re afraid,” warned Dr. Forrest, looking toward Eugene.

“I know I am, too,” said Eugene, laughing nervously. “Boy, do I know it!”

“Your fear seems to threaten them,” said Dr. Perry.

He turned to the infants, and as if they were already small children, he explained, “It’s all right, it’s all right now. He’s the father of one just like you. You’re going to have a new brother. He’s here and he’s safe.” He pointed to Eugene, who stood discreetly by the doorway. “And this is his father.”

The creatures, pressing as close as they could to the sides of the cages, peered out at Eugene.

“They’ve never seen any of their parents,” Dr. Perry told Eugene. “Probably never will. They might like to focus upon you as a father figure.”

“Never mind,” said Eugene, smiling nervously. “I wouldn’t want to rob you of that role, Doctor.”

Not for a second did Eugene take his eyes off these monstrosities who stared out at him from their cages.

Suddenly there was a sharp growl from one of the cages, as if one of the infants were warning the other.

“Now, enough of that,” said Dr. Perry immediately. “We know you can make noises. It only frightens people all the more and makes them suspicious of you. I’m not going to let you out today if you don’t behave.”

Dr. Perry seemed to have trouble with his thick-lensed glasses. He kept fussing with them and adjusting them, taking them off, wiping and putting them back again. On several occasions he had come dangerously close to the two enclosures that housed the creatures.

Eugene watched him, wishing again he would stay farther away from the cages. “You let them out?” he asked.

“Only Adam, so far. And then I’m always armed. I’ve never seen them as agitated as this, though,” he said as he looked at them keenly. “Right, Doctor?”

“I think you’re right,” said Dr. Forrest.

“We may have to tranquilize them,” said Dr. Perry thoughtfully. He then turned to Eugene as if dismissing him, anxious to get on with his work. “You can come back to see them again. Tomorrow, if you like,” he said, turning back to the cages.

“Great,” said Eugene, “great.” He was just as pleased to get out of there.

As Dr. Forrest led Eugene out of the room and back up the staircase, Eugene turned and looked behind him. Dr. Perry was again dangerously close to the cages, smiling, chatting inaudible little nothings to those creatures as one would to any small child.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The room was small and boxlike; probably a maid’s room when the old mansion had been at its height. The paint was a murky white, dry, crinkling at the edges. The room itself was poorly furnished, everything makeshift. There were two small, narrow beds, more like pallets.

In one of them, under a worn, weathered quilt, was Eugene Scott. Arms behind his head, in lieu of a pillow, he lay there, staring fixedly at the ceiling.

Finally, giving up all pretense of even trying to get to sleep, he got up, went to the window, and looked out.

The grounds were eerie, overgrown, deserted—and always the swimming pool in the middle, with the leaves still falling as a warm night wind blew through the giant eucalyptus trees.

Eugene looked up. He heard something, something deep within the belly of the old building—a growl. Again, louder this time, and then all at once it was gone . . . Just silence.

Are these creatures good or evil? Eugene wondered. His own child—was he doing the right thing, or was he being seduced by his own good intentions into something incredibly evil?

And in another bed, hundreds of miles away in Tucson, Jody Scott couldn’t sleep, either. She stared at the walls, then across at her mother, asleep beside her in the giant bed. Jody turned away. She stared straight ahead, watching herself in the mirror.

“Where are they?” she moaned softly. “Where are they? . . . Oh, Gene . . .” she cried, almost soundlessly.

And much later that night, in another part of Tucson, an irate Mr. Benjamin Mallory was on the phone in a makeshift office.

“What do you mean, you lost him?” he roared.

“I lost him,” the voice explained. “I lost Davis. I had him up until the time he was supposed to give the speech, then I don’t know. He must’ve skipped. He never even showed up to make the speech.”

“Find him,” yelled Mallory. “You hear me? Get the Dallas police to help you.”

“I already have,” said the voice. “They have his picture. They’re watching all the airports, the bus stations, everything.”

“They better be, for your sake,” stormed Mallory.

“I don’t understand it,” the voice tried to explain. “We had a tail on him all the time. He must have known it. He didn’t skip away on his own. This boy had help.”

“Of course he had help!” shouted Mallory. “Right now he’s probably with Eugene Scott, and that thing!” He slammed down the phone.

“Stupid bastard,” he said to no one in particular.

Gentry approached him, coming from the outer office. “Our friend is outside,” he said, smiling.

Mallory nodded. “Good, send her in.”

A moment later Jody’s mother, looking quite tense, was ushered into the office. Mallory got up and courteously guided her to a chair.

“Mrs. Jenkins,” he said, “how nice of you to come. Were you able to get any rest?”

“A little,” she answered with an anxious smile. “I’m sorry I’m late. I had to wait until my daughter fell asleep.”

In the library of the Spanish mansion in Los Angeles, Dr. Perry, Dr. Forrest, and several other physicians and attendants who ran the establishment were sitting around a huge table, in the midst of a conference of some sort. Among them were the three nurses from the motor home, Steven, Billy, and Barbara. By instruction, these three had secretly made their way back to the old mansion from Tucson.

Dr. Forrest was speaking. “They seemed to have rejected Mr. Scott.”

“Yes, they have,” said Dr. Perry. “There seems to be no doubt about that. If, however, we could have the mother as well, the complete family unit . . .” He paused. “We know from Frank Davis’s testimony that these infants have a unique affinity for their own parents. They seek them out, need to be close to them. What we must do is train the parents to conduct the experiments.”

“You want to bring the mother here?” asked one of the other doctors.

“Exactly,” said Dr. Perry.

“That could be very dangerous,” said the doctor. “I’m sure she’s being carefully watched.”

“Doctor?” Dr. Perry turned to Dr. Forrest as if he wanted him to explain something.

Dr. Forrest nodded. “Yes, she is being watched very carefully. However, we are already working on a plan that we are sure will work.”

“How sure?” asked the same doctor cynically.

“Reasonably sure, Doctor,” replied Dr. Forrest.

The next day, in a shopping center on the outskirts of Tucson, in a huge new supermarket still flying the “Grand Opening” banners, Jody and her friend, Lydia, made their unhurried way through the well-stocked market.

Each took a cart and, side by side, started casualty up an aisle.

“And that’s all he said?” whispered Jody, leaning as close to Lydia as she dared without appearing obvious.

“That was it,” answered Lydia just as softly. “I got a call at three in the morning, it must have been. Woke me up, scared the shit out of me.”

Jody smiled in spite of herself.

“ ‘Lydia,’ the voice said. “No ‘Mrs. Hogan,’ nothing. Just ‘Lydia.’ Oh, God, I said to myself, it’s finally my turn. I finally got it, an obscene phone call. ‘Yes,’ I said, and lay right back all ready for it. What the hell, it couldn’t be any worse than that rotten-mouthed bum I was married to.”

Jody smiled again. She loved Lydia. What would she have done if she hadn’t met her the very first day she and Eugene arrived in Tucson?

“So then the voice said, ‘Do you have a friend, Jody Scott?’ ‘Sure,’ I said, ‘I have a friend, Jody Scott.’ And then he said, ‘Bring her to the new Miller Brothers’ market in the Valley Plaza tomorrow at eleven o’clock.’ ”

Lydia stopped. She looked over at Jody.

“That was it?” Jody asked.

“That was it,” repeated Lydia.

They were silent, Jody thinking.

Coming down the aisle was the bumptious-looking assistant manager of the store. Lydia spotted him a good fifty yards away.

“Oh, God,” she said, “here he comes. I’ve been here three times since it opened, and every time I come in this ass of an assistant manager tries to put the make on me. There must be a sign on my back,” Lydia sighed, “saying I’m divorced and desperate.”

“How did he know you were divorced?” Jody asked suspiciously.

“Oh, well,” said Lydia evasively. “I had to cash a check, and you know, to do that they ask you all kinds of things.”

“Yes, yes, I can just imagine.”

“Hi, Lydia.” The man smiled from a few steps away.

“Mike,” Lydia said, almost shyly, “this is . . .”

Mike interrupted. “I know Mrs. Scott.” He looked at Jody. “Would you follow me, please?”

Jody, too surprised not to, followed the man across two aisles, heading for the office of the store, as Lydia looked on in surprise.

As they neared the office, the manager appeared, coming down the steps from the office.

“Mrs. Scott?” he said, as if making doubly sure.

“Yes,” said Jody.

The manager handed her the phone. “For you,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, and then into the phone, her heart beating wildly, “Hello?” She was sure it was Eugene. Somehow he’d arranged all this, found this method of getting in touch with her.

“Hello,” the voice said back, a flat voice, not Eugene’s. Oh, no, she thought, her heart falling. It’s not Eugene. It’s probably some newspaper reporter who had found out she was here.

“Listen carefully,” the voice said. “Is anybody around?”

Jody looked. The manager was back in his office.

The assistant manager was gone, too, back talking to Lydia.

“No,” said Jody.

“Good,” said the voice. “I can only tell you once. If you want to see your husband and child, do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand?”

“Oh, yes,” pleaded Jody. “Oh, yes. What should I do?”

“All right,” said the voice. “Tonight at eight o’clock go to . . .”

Jody was driving. Her mother was next to her in the passenger seat. Jody couldn’t help smiling in spite of herself at how easily her mother had fallen for it.

“The movies, what’s playing?”

“That’s Entertainment, Part Two,
Mother.”

“Oh, perfect, perfect, just what you need. I wanted to see that myself.”

The theater was just ahead, one of those multiples, with three or four theaters in the same building.

They parked the car. A weekday night, a slow night for the movie business, plenty of parking places.