Kalahari (12 page)

“I swear, Avani, you and your SAT mouth make me want to gouge my own eyes out,” growled Miranda.

From there, we descended into chaos. Everyone was on their feet, hurling accusations, complaints, and insults like a troop of mudslinging baboons. Sam and Kase were nose to nose and seething, and Avani was holding a frying pan, looking dangerously close to whacking someone with it. I grabbed a spoon and a metal teakettle and began clanging them together until everyone fell silent, their hands on their ears.

“Enough!” I said. “This is ridiculous! We should be focusing on getting out of here, not fighting with each other! If we keep this up, we’ll be dead before the end of the week!”

At that, they fell reluctantly silent but still exchanged heated looks—many of them directed at me.

Then Miranda’s eyes filled with tears. “Do you really think we’re going to die?”

I sighed and put down the kettle. “I’m just saying that we need to work together.
Please
. I’m trying my hardest, I really am, but I need your help. We have food and water now, see? We’re going to be fine. We just have to keep our heads.”

Avani nodded, looking abashed. “Sorry, guys. I don’t mean to be a know-it-all. I just want to help.”

“We all do,” I said. I took a deep breath and tried to get us back on track. “What’s back there?” I peered down a corridor between the dark curtains that partitioned off the long building.

“Looks like dorms,” said Joey. “Beds and stuff. Be my guest.” He waved at the corridor.

Leaving the others to cool down, I went into the first little room and found a sturdy cot topped with an air mattress. A plastic drawer set yielded an assortment of men’s clothing and toiletries. On top of it sat a framed photograph. My stomach twisted when I recognized the young man in the photo as the same one Sam and I had found in the menagerie. In the photo, he was hugging an older Indian woman who may have been his mother.

A quick survey of the rest of the rooms settled my suspicion that the scientists were still currently in residence of this place, even though they were nowhere to be found. They’d left behind clothes, shoes, shampoo bottles, contact lens cases, even a pair of expensive-looking earrings. Were they the ones out searching for us, then? From the contents of each room, I gathered that there had been three men and two women working here. There had been more people than that at our camp, so if any of them had been the scientists, they had backup. Any notebooks, computers, or other sources of information had either been taken or destroyed with the stuff in the lab. Besides the one photograph, there were no clues as to the identities of the researchers.

At the far end of the building, I found a door to the outside. A beaten track led to a small trailer nearby, and I noticed with a chill up my spine that the footprints on the track were very fresh, made as recently as that morning. I waited, still in the doorway, watching and listening for any sign of people, but it seemed clear. I didn’t see any prints from our group, so no one had explored the trailer yet. It was the last place a radio or phone could be, so I had to check it out. I walked slowly toward it, alert for any sign of trouble.

The door to the trailer opened with a creak, and I froze for a long moment in dread, my hand wrapping around the flare gun in the back of my waistband, but nothing happened. Cautiously, I stepped inside and pulled the door shut.

Another lab. Unlike the others, this one seemed to be currently in use. A long counter held liquid in beakers, computer screens running streams of data, vials dripping substances into other vials. I tensed, listening carefully for any sound that might signal someone was here, but the only noise came from the experiments percolating, bubbling, and beeping. I’d have to get Avani in here to interpret the scene. The chemistry equipment made about as much sense to me as Joey’s pop culture references.

I went to the computer and tried to find some means of communication, but I got only a flurry of windows streaming numbers and formulas. A dead end. So I yanked open the drawers below the counter, one by one, finding nothing of use—until I was interrupted by a loud thump.

I whirled to face a door that led to another room in the trailer, but it stayed shut. Certain that was where the noise had come from, I armed myself with a scalpel snatched off the counter and slowly crept to the door, the hair on my arms standing on end. When I tried the knob, I found it locked.

“Hello?” I said, tentatively. “Is someone in there?”

No reply.

I debated whether or not to leave it alone, but what if there was a radio inside? Putting down the scalpel in favor of a slender metal pick and a safety pin out of one of the drawers, I tried picking the lock. When it clicked, I held my breath and eased open the door—only to have it violently thrown open from the other side, as a metallic silver hand lunged out of the dark interior, reaching for my throat.

I
yelled and threw my weight against the door, staying clear of those silver fingers’ reach. The door shut, but barely. The person on the other side began to groan and push back. He or she was stronger than me, and the door eased open a few inches. Still pressing myself against it, I stabbed the reaching hand with the pick. It swiftly withdrew as its owner wailed in pain, and I took the chance to peer around the door.

There were three of them, two women and a man. They still wore their lab coats over dusty cargo pants and boots. Every bared part of their bodies—skin, eyes, hair, nails—was silver. They looked like the animals in the menagerie, like the lion that had chased us, but seeing
people
like this was worse, so much worse. The moment they saw me, they lunged at me savagely, fingers outstretched and ready to claw me like animals. Only the cracked open door kept them from touching me—for the moment. There was something both feral and pathetic in their movements, almost as if they were desperate for someone to save them, but in the way that an animal caught in a trap will react with snarls and snaps. Yet for all their desperation, they seemed weakened and unbalanced, like starved animals.

I looked into the eyes of the closest one, a woman with shoulder-length hair that shimmered like tinsel. It was her hand that I’d stabbed.

“Don’t!” I cried. “You’re sick! You need help!”

If my words registered at all to her, she didn’t show it. She emitted a high-pitched squeal that was altogether inhuman and slipped her foot in the door, jamming it open. The hairs on my arms stood up again. Hers was the cry of a rabbit snapped up by a jackal, the death scream of an impala brought down by a lion. I slammed the door against her foot, and she shrieked again. The others took up her cry, until it sounded like a chorus of keening ghosts.

I felt like a monster as I stamped my boot on hers, crushing her toes. She drew her foot back into the darkness of the room, giving me a chance to slam the door. Even then, the handle started to jiggle as she worked it from the inside. I gathered they had retained a rudimentary knowledge of how doors worked, though they’d been stymied by the lock. I gripped the knob with a sweaty hand, my heart hammering and my mouth dry as I plunged the pick back into the lock. My hand was shaking so violently that I lost my grip, and the pick slipped out again.

Suddenly, Sam was there, throwing open the door of the trailer. “Sarah! What happened?”

“Help me!” I shouted. “It’s the other scientists. They’re infected!”

He grabbed the door handle so that I could focus on locking it again. It took longer than opening the door had, but I finally heard a click and when he turned the handle, it held in place.

I dropped the pick and sank to my knees, shaking enough to set my teeth chattering. Sam was saying something, but in my haze of horror and adrenaline I barely heard him. He kneeled in front of me, repeating his question.

“Are you okay?”

“N-no.” Impulsively, I threw myself at him, grabbing him in an embrace. It was meant only to help me steady myself, the way you might grab a table or the wall in a spell of dizziness. He froze, surprised, and then his arms curled around me, firm and safe. I buried my face in his shoulder and we sat like that for several moments, before my trembling finally subsided. Even then, I didn’t want to let go. I hadn’t realized how starved I was for this kind of closeness to another human being after days of living on the edge of life and death. I lifted my face and met his eyes, half embarrassed, half curious.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

He replied with a somewhat strangled, “No, no, it’s fine,” as his eyes fixed on mine, his expression a strange blend of astonishment and concern.

My arm was still around his neck; I could feel his pulse thundering. Slowly, hesitantly, Sam slid his hand over my wrist, my elbow, up to my shoulder, his grip gentle but firm.

“You sure you’re okay?” he said, his voice a bit hoarse.

I am now
, I almost said, but instead I just nodded.

At that moment, the door from the outside opened again, and Sam and I jerked apart as if electrified, expecting Avani or Kase or one of the others.

But the person who stepped through the door was a stranger, a man in a dusty, filthy lab coat. He turned to stone when he saw us, his eyes springing wide behind wire-rimmed glasses. His hair, a receding cap of tight gray fuzz that puffed out over his ears, gave him the look of a startled koala bear. He had been holding a clipboard and a handful of glass vials, and when he saw us, they dropped to the floor, the vials shattering.

“Who are you?” Sam demanded, leaping to his feet. I clumsily followed, my neck still warm from our close encounter.

“Who are
you
?” the man stammered in a strong Scottish accent.

My eyes darted from his hands to his pockets, searching for any sign of a gun, but he appeared to be unarmed and just as surprised to see us as we were to see him. Instead of answering Sam’s question, the man looked from us to the door behind us.

“Did you open it?” he cried.

I frowned. “Yes, but—”

“Did they touch you?”
His voice came out in a thin squeal, like air let from a balloon.

“No. I don’t think so. Who
are
you?”

He muttered something unintelligible, then looked over his shoulder, through the open door. While his head was turned, I grabbed the scalpel, just in case.

“Why are you—” he started to say, then stopped when he saw me holding out the scalpel. “What are you going to do with that? Scratch me?”

“Your
name
,” I said.

He frowned, swallowing nervously, and scratched his ear. “I’m—”

At that moment, a loud
clang
resounded through the room. With a startled grunt, the man collapsed to the floor, unconscious, as behind him Avani stood in the doorway with her frying pan still held high. She gaped down at the scientist, her mouth hanging open.

“I got him!” she gasped out. “I really got him!”

Joey, Kase, and Miranda poked their heads around the sides of the door, their eyes all wide.

Joey whistled. “Out cold. Nice hit, Canada.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, exasperated. “He was about to tell us his name!”

Avani lowered her frying pan, her eyes still wide and energized, as if she were on a sugar rush. “We saw him walking outside and followed him here. I thought he might be dangerous, so I—I whacked him.”

“Is he dead?” asked Miranda.

At that, Avani let out a whimper. “I didn’t mean to hit him that hard!”

“It’s okay,” I said, kneeling down and peering at the man’s face. “He’s still breathing.”

Grimacing, Avani quickly set the pan on the counter and wiped her hands on her shirt.

“We must have missed him when we searched the compound,” I said. “Maybe he was out in the bush.”

“Do you think he’s alone?” Miranda asked.

Sam picked up the frying pan with a grunt. “Let’s wake him up and ask him.”

Joey had a bottle of water in his hand, and he poured water on the man’s face until he came to, spluttering and coughing. Immediately he jerked up into a sitting position and scrambled backward. His skin was so pale that I could see the fine network of veins in his neck and hands.

“My glasses . . .” he groaned, his bloodshot eyes squinting at me.

I found the dropped glasses and pushed them toward him. After he pulled them on, he blinked around at us. “You’re just a bunch of kids!”

“Kids with a whole lot of questions,” I said. “For starters, who are you?”

He eyed us mistrustfully and touched a hand to the back of his head. “What did you hit me with?” he asked, hissing through his teeth. “God Almighty, that hurts!”

“Who are you
?
”

His hand dropped to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m Monaghan. Dr. Carl Monaghan. I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“Do you know where my dad is? Are you with the guys who shot at him?”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. You kids better get out of here!”

“Why?”

“Because—because this is private property! Highly off-limits!”

“Is there anyone else here?” asked Sam.

Dr. Monaghan’s eyes shifted to him, and his hand moved to his wrist, scratching. He was starting to make me itch just by watching him. He must have noticed me staring, because he looked down at his hands and suddenly clenched them into fists.

“Listen here, kids, they’ll be back any minute, and you don’t want to be here when they arrive.”

“Who? Abramo?” I asked.

He grimaced. “How do you know that name? And what
are
you doing out here in the middle of the desert?”

“Semidesert,” whispered Avani. She still stood framed in the doorway, with the other three looking over her shoulders.

“My father, Dr. Ty Carmichael, disappeared three days ago,” I said. “He’d heard reports of poachers in the area and went out looking for them, along with our friend Theo. Theo—he’s dead. Shot. My dad’s missing.”

Dr. Monaghan’s expression had gone vacant, and though he was looking right at me, I suspected he wasn’t seeing me at all. “Carmichael, you say?”

“Yes—do you know him?”

“No, no . . .” He was scratching his wrist again. The sound was infuriating.

“Look,” said Miranda, her voice shaking. “Have you got a phone or what? I need to call my parents.”

“And the police,” said Avani.

“And my lawyer,” added Kase.

“What?” From the way Dr. Monaghan’s eyes roved restlessly, I wondered if he was sick or feverish. “No, no, haven’t got a phone. That was the first thing they destroyed—our phones and radios. Smashed them all, after Naveen tried to call for help.”

“Naveen? Is he the one . . . in the menagerie?”

Dr. Monaghan blanched even further, his skin nearly gray. “You went in the menagerie? Did you
touch
anything?”

“No, believe me, we got out of there fast as we could. What happened to those animals, Dr. Monaghan? What happened to the lion?”

“You saw Androcles?”

So our silver nightmare had a name. “He chased us until we fell through the ground into one of the reservoirs. We swam until we found your pipe and climbed it to this place.”

Dr. Monaghan sighed. He looked around at each of us thoughtfully, then shook his head and motioned for Avani and the others to come inside. “Hurry. It isn’t safe.” Once they were all inside, stepping around him with mistrustful looks, he shut the door and leaned against it, his hand gingerly nursing the back of his head. “I told Strauss we needed to stop drilling. ‘We’ve gone too deep,’ I told her. But did she listen?” He snorted. “Does she ever?” Sighing again, the doctor moved his hand into his pocket, as if fingering something inside. I tensed, wondering if it could be a gun. “It’s probably too late, anyway. The lion’s escaped, God knows what it’s infected. You lot, probably.”

“Is it some kind of disease?” asked Avani.

“Not a disease,” said the doctor. “Lindy called it a virus. That’s closer to the truth, I suppose, but it’s more than that. More complicated.”

“But it’s metal,” Avani said. She slipped into the room, stepping around Dr. Monaghan in order to face him. “Metal can poison someone but not
infect
them. Not like a virus. It’s inorganic.”

“Not anymore,” he replied.

Avani looked alarmed. “What does that mean?”

“Can someone please explain what’s going on?” Joey said. “I am so lost right now. And I totally slept through, like,
all
of my chemistry classes, so you have to speak in kindergarten terms.”

“He’s saying he discovered some kind of metal that’s . . . well, that’s
alive
.”

“I didn’t discover it,” he said. “I
created
it.”

We digested this in silence, until Kase said, “This is the part where we all laugh, right? Because that is absolutely
insane
.”

“Why are you telling us all this?” I asked him, my suspicion too strong to ignore. “Why aren’t you calling your friends, telling them where we are? Shouldn’t you be trying to, I don’t know, shoot us?”

“Hey, genius, don’t give him any ideas!” Joey protested.

Dr. Monaghan met my gaze levelly. “Because they’re not my friends. And because I have to tell
someone
. They destroyed all my means of communicating with the outside. You are the only chance I have of warning the world. If I tell you what happened here, will you swear to do your best to tell the authorities? The government, Interpol, the UN—they must all be warned!”

I studied him more closely, and if he was lying, I was unable to read it in his eyes. “We’ll do our best. Tell us what happened.”

“Like, for instance,” said Avani, “how you created a virus made of living metal.”

“And
why
,” I added.

“Don’t you see?” Dr. Monaghan replied. “Inorganic life! The secret of the origins of the universe! Life on other planets! This discovery makes almost anything possible.”

“First Frankenstein the lion,” said Joey. “Now aliens?”

“You mean Frankenstein’s
monster
the lion,” said Avani. And then she graciously added, “Common mistake.”

“How can something inorganic be alive?” I asked. “Aren’t those things mutually exclusive?”

It was Avani who answered. I suspected she was already several steps ahead of the rest of us in understanding what Dr. Monaghan was hinting at. “Depends on your definition of
alive
. If it can reproduce, isn’t that alive? If it has some sort of metabolism, or if it fights other life-forms for its own survival . . .”

Dr. Monaghan fixed his gaze on Avani. “Clever.”

“What I don’t understand,” she replied, returning his look with equal intensity, “is how it affects organic animals. It would be like people being infected with
rust
, or a computer getting the flu.”

“Unless the life-form in question invaded like the Trojans, hidden beneath a mask, slipping through the body’s defense system,” said Dr. Monaghan.

“How?” Avani whispered.

“Ah, see, that was the trick. At first, we thought we’d just created a new life-form—and well, we
had
, you see.” From his pocket he pulled out a small glass vial. I flinched, still half expecting a gun, but when I saw what was in the vial, I didn’t relax. It contained a small quantity of what looked like mercury, flowing like water as he swirled it around. We all watched it as if hypnotized. “You’ve already said it yourself—the basic criteria of life: Metalcium is inorganic, and yet it self-replicates. It has a kind of metabolism. It adapts to changes in its environment. We created
life
, however basic, however simple. Just little cells of metal at first, but I began to wonder. . . . What
more
could it do? I was on the brink of something, I knew it. It was when we began adding lead that its true potential was realized.”