Desolate The Complete Trilogy

Three



Marshall set down his cup of tea and lit a cigarette. He mopped the sweat from his forehead and exhaled a cloud of smoke over the dinette table he used as a work area. The air conditioning in the caravan struggled to compete with the muggy air trying to seep through the thin fiberglass walls and windowpanes. Still, he was thankful for the small generator outside providing him with some electricity for simple comforts. It was more than many of his constituents out in the parking lot had. Then again, many of them were better off now, a good majority little more than poverty-stricken, quasi-homeless people to begin with. It was true the rich tourists would no longer be bringing their wealth to spread around, but the amenities in place to pamper them were now up for grabs for the common man.

He took another drag and inhaled deeply, staring at the small organ transplant cooler on the table in front of him. Part of him considered it silly, a waste of time, when clearly much more important tasks were at hand. As far as he knew, he was the last remaining survivor of parliament, making him the new Prime Minister by default. Nevertheless, it wasn’t easy to discard years of work and research in biotechnology, wasn’t easy to put aside his scientific mind and replace it with a political one. The contents of the cooler before him might contain one of the most important scientific finds of his lifetime.

As for the plague, he didn’t have an answer for that. He was as clueless as a lice-covered vagabond as to what caused the outbreak and why a handful of the population was immune. But this…this cooler on the table held something tangible he could study. Something he could take credit for. Sure, there would be no journal publications, no television interviews, no awards or citations. But how could he resist such a find?

Tea cup drained, cigarette snuffed, hand disinfectant applied, Marshall stood up from the table and dragged the cooler closer. He opened the lid, his nose wrinkling as the pungent odor hit him. Remarkably, the little creatures seemed more active than ever. They wiggled and swam, happy as clams floating in the amniotic fluid of the transparent sac. Apparently, it seemed they needed nothing more from that Bell fellow than a warm place to flourish. If anything, they seemed to be slightly larger than the first time he laid eyes on them, moments after Dr. Wilson removed the sac from Bell’s abdominal cavity. Their features were becoming less tadpolelike and more reptilian in nature as they grew.

He counted just eight of them, which was fewer than he had seen earlier on the printout from the ultrasound. Before he could even start to ponder an explanation, he saw for himself the reason for the dwindling numbers. One of the larger creatures suddenly attacked one of its siblings, quickly devouring it. It was over in a matter of seconds; only seven remained.

He adjusted the desk lamp directly over the cooler and picked up a scalpel from the table. He attempted to slice open the clear membrane but it proved to be tougher than it appeared. Marshall grabbed the clear lining with forceps in one hand and sliced again, applying more pressure with the scalpel this time. The sac popped, releasing the clear fluid into the cooler, and more pungent odor into the room. Marshall gasped and covered his nose and mouth. It burned, not unlike ammonia or smelling salts.

He stepped back and wiped his eyes before peering into the cooler. All seven creatures swam about, oblivious to the loss of their protective womb. Marshall took the forceps and carefully picked up one, holding it in the light. It squirmed and squealed between the metal clamps.

“Fascinating,” he whispered to himself.

It was the size of a mouse, but didn’t look like any creature he’d ever laid eyes on before. Its tiny mandibles continually clicked together under an almost beaklike snout.

“What exactly are you, my little friend?”

The creature answered with a renewed round of squealing and struggling. It slipped free from the forceps and fell to the table. Marshall cupped his hand over it before it could escape and was bitten on the web between his thumb and forefinger. He jerked back in pain, the creature still attached. It released its grip and fell to the floor before scurrying out of sight.

Marshall reached for a towel on the counter for his bleeding hand. He cursed himself for being so careless and scanned the floor of the caravan for the specimen. There were a number of cracks and crevices for it to hide in and with daylight gone it would be very difficult to spot. He realized he didn’t have a flashlight handy but could probably have Arscott locate one for him.

He removed the towel from his hand and hissed between his teeth. It burned relentlessly and the flow of blood didn’t seem to be slowing. He reached for a bottle of water on the counter and splashed some on the wound, only making it feel worse. Marshall turned his attention back to the cooler.

The six remaining creatures continued to crawl about in the fluid, no worse for wear. It was getting late and he became less concerned with the escapee as the minutes passed. It was probably scared and most likely crawled into a dark corner someplace. He doubted it would survive very long, being so young and without food.

He decided to leave it be and get some sleep. Half a dozen specimens were more than enough and would be fine in the cooler until morning. And if not, he would have his pick of six for dissection and further study. After all, he had no idea what these things needed to survive. They certainly wouldn’t be looking for a suckling teat from the man they were removed from.

Marshall switched off the desk lamp and lit another cigarette on his way back to the small bedroom. Tomorrow was a new day, a new beginning for his country and his people. In the meantime, he had his new pets to keep him entertained when recovery efforts became dull.