Chapter 39

 

Jared

 

 

He made it to the porch with a good deal of help, Cara under his right arm and Issio under his left and Evvie behind and Sofi carrying pillows and Al carrying a water glass and a pitcher and Clyde carrying a blanket, which seemed superfluous on such a warm summer day, and Ollie carrying the little end table from the living room. It made an impressive procession; he felt like an invalid, and he felt rather silly.

But his leg was impressive. His helpers situated him on the lounge chair which Issio had brought up to the porch, surrounded with pillows strategically placed, and he got another look at the damage. It was not very reassuring, although Cara assured him it had looked much worse yesterday. His leg was easily twice its normal size from the ankle to well above the knee, with a little circle of tooth marks on the lower calf; these small punctures oozed a sort of foamy purple stuff, which Ollie matter-of-factly wiped off now and then; Cara put a towel under his leg to protect the pillows that elevated it.

Experimentation had proved that it didn't support his weight yet.

So here he was, propped up on Issio's lounger on his own front porch, dressed in shorts because there was no way long pants would fit over that leg; they had had to cut open the leg of his favorite jeans yesterday at Dr. Frank's office when he really started swelling, Ollie told him. Ollie put the end table down beside the lounger, with the pitcher and the glass on it, and Clyde draped the blanket over the porch rail for future reference.

"Dural said when that thing bites them, it swells up and itches around the tooth marks, like a mosquito," Mimi said, sitting down on his porch step, "but it isn't very serious. I suppose they have some resistance. You don't."

"That thing has bitten them?" asked Jared, watching the purple foam dripping off his leg onto the towel. It was not a particularly attractive sight.

"Not that one specifically," said Cara. "They told us about it; it's called a nuntulpo; they live in caves and underground tunnels, like molekins, and they catch worm and centipede kind of things, but they also hang around living quarters, like our bugs do, and get into their food, and they do bite sometimes. It's a pest, like a fly, like our fly."

"You did put it somewhere safe," said Jared.

"But we had to take it to Dr. Frank first," said Mimi.

"Sofi called him," explained Cara. "We decided we didn't want to try to explain at the hospital, so Issio and Clyde and I got you loaded into the car and Sofi called Dr. Frank. He asked us if we had whatever bit you and told us to bring it along. You should have seen us," she added, laughing, "as we walked into his office. Issio and Clyde and Ollie and Evvie were carrying you; Ollie and Evvie came with the D'ubians in the van. The D'ubians were all very upset. And then Sofi came with Wundra and Mutai and Clena, and Mimi and Al had the It in this glass jar they use for sourdough cultures, with a couple of holes in the top so it could breathe. And it was yelling and screaming, and you were telling us all about the colors of the music, and Durata kept trying to pour more of their ointment on your leg and getting underfoot."

"And Rose didn't throw us out?" said Jared, visualizing this invasion.

"I think she was scared of the It," said Mimi. "It wasn't speaking, no cursing or anything, just shrieking; those Its have the worst shriek I have ever heard."

"Like a banshee," murmured Jared.

"What is a banshee?" inquired Sofi.

"A Celtic Earthian legend," said Cara. "A supernatural woman in white, who is supposed to hang around certain families and to scream and cry when one of them is about to die. As a warning, I guess."

"Harbinger," said Jared, "of death and disaster. Which these Its seem to be – disaster, anyway. So you hauled me into Dr. Frank's office –"

"Only when the D'ubian ointment didn't seem to be working," said Clyde, "but he said it was, just slower than the D'ubians expected."

"Neutralizing," said Jared, remembering.

"Dr. Frank was talking about dissecting the It, to analyze the poison," said Mimi, "and Clyde and Al and I thought it might be a good idea, but the rest of them objected. So he got Duroh and Durata to swab some of the foam off its mouth and they sent that to the lab, and a sample of their ointment." She lifted a ceramic pot she had been holding; it was about as big as a saulia fruit or perhaps a large grapefruit, glazed in white with a pattern of gold lace; she took off the top, which had a little gold knob, and handed it to Jared and he looked at the pearlescent cream inside and sniffed it, noting a light citrus scent. "That's what they use for nuntulpo bites," she said. "And here on Haivran, they use it for insect stings, mostly."

"Dr. Frank said it did neutralize the poison," said Cara, "and that their having used it right away on your bite probably saved you from complications."

"So I told them," said Sofi. "They feel guilt; they believe it is their fault that you were poisoned. I told them, many times, that it was their action which saved you."

"I hope they believed you," said Jared. He looked about; in the broad daylight the brown robes were missing. "Are they asleep now? They had a strenuous day yesterday."

"Yes, we finally got them to go to bed this morning," said Cara. "They stayed with us all day, all the way to Dr. Frank's office and back, and all night long they camped in the living room and kept tiptoeing in to check on you."

"Did they," said Jared, "hear Maud?"

A pause, as the group registered that the subject was out in the open and could be included in the conversation; they all knew about it, Jared saw. "Yes, Durata came in just after you went back to sleep," said Cara. "Issio went out back to look for her."

"I found nothing," said Issio. "As always."

"But she was right," said Cara briskly. "You're better today."

"And the what-do-you-call-it, the nuntulpo, is alive and well and locked up –"

"In my basement," said Clyde. "In the back, where I was starting to build a vault for a safe. Almost soundproof. Durakal said they mostly eat worms, so I went to the bait shop this morning. So it's fed. And in good voice. Sofi thought we should put them together, but Issio thought the noise would be too much."

"He was, I think, right," said Ollie, and Evvie nodded agreement.

"We did not wait for Issio to bring home a glass case. It is placed in an old aquarium," said Sofi, "which Al had; we put mesh over the top, to prevent it from escaping but to allow it air. Duroh brought it small branches to sit upon, and several rocks for the bottom of the aquarium."

"All the comforts of home," said Jared, amused. The D'ubians must be feeling what Cara did when she sent wedges of tomato, with dressing, to Issio's house for the fly, he thought.

"Now," said Cara in a businesslike voice. "You are to get as much fresh air and sunshine as you can, and eat lightly, and drink fluids, Dr. Frank said, and to get a great deal of rest, and you are not to go back to work as long as your leg is swollen. I already called the Institute, so Mr. Weston and Mr. Patterson and Ms. Ott know about it."

"You told Weston that we caught an It?" inquired Jared, thinking it would have been an interesting conversation if she had.

Cara laughed. "I told them," she said, "that you had been bitten by some weird D'ubian thing, which is the absolute truth, and they do know we have a group of D'ubians in our neighborhood. And that strikes them as odd enough, and they weren't surprised the D'ubians brought some of their wildlife with them. They told me to tell you to take it easy and they were going to finish up the first arch today or tomorrow. Probably today. Mr. Patterson spent the whole night in the conference room working on it."

"He did?"

"Yes, he says his ex-wife is laying for him, and he won't go outside again. Ms. Ott says she'll try walking him to his car tonight."

"Now," said Ollie, "what do you need, Jared, to be comfortable here? Have we brought everything? Because you must not try to walk yet."

"I did, and I can't," said Jared. "And you've all done everything for me already, and I thank you. All I can think of that I could use is my portable screen. There might be some research I could do while I'm stuck here."

"Only," said Issio, "if you are very careful not to overdo your work and become tired." Sofi gave a snort and looked at him, and he shrugged, his tail moving in leisurely curves behind him. "I cannot help this," he said. "I cannot help being concerned."

"Try," his wife advised him, and Cara, giggling, went into the living room after the screen.

 

Sofi brought a handful of printouts, complete with pictures, the maternity wardrobe she was contemplating. She and Cara took over the other side of the porch, spreading the printouts on the floor and discussing color and cut; Mimi came over to offer her own advice. Jared left them to it, and settled down with his screen.

As he thought, he did indeed have a physical copy of Maud's death certificate and he had filed a virtual copy with other business papers on his computer. He did not recognize the name of the doctor who had signed it; he assumed it was the emergency room doctor, but he was having trouble locating the woman. The hospital didn't list the name among current staff and she didn't seem to have a practice in Bridgeton. Jared connected with the hospital public relations office, figuring that they would have the greatest percentage in keeping him, as part of the public, relatively happy, and they had him on hold, apparently while they looked through their own files.

"Oh, I love that," said Mimi, "so cute."

"I do not require cute," said Sofi darkly, and Cara laughed.

The receptionist came back on line. The doctor, one L. Maarchesin M.D., had been on staff in their emergency room for several years, but had left her position eight months ago to enter a partnership practice at Wark's Ferry on the Northwest Peninsula. No, very sorry, they did not have an address for her.

He wouldn't have any luck accessing her file, he supposed, but perhaps he could find something if he poked around in old publicity material from the hospital, pictures of happy staff members, something like that.

And by the way, he inquired, what became of tissue samples taken for organ cloning when the patient died before they could be used? The receptionist had no idea, but she said she could give him the name of someone in the department who might know, and she put him on hold again. He wasn't sure if it mattered; he wasn't sure he could find out anything useful about the tissues, that it would tell him anything much. Maud had always said she had genetic quirks, could not use ordinary artificial blood, for instance; he didn't know if any comprehensive analysis had ever been done, and he didn't know if he could interpret it if it had, but he thought it would be interesting to find out.

The person who came on line said he thought all samples were frozen and stored, but if the patient died, he wasn't sure; he would find out, if Dr. Ramirez wanted him to. Dr. Ramirez did; they exchanged phone numbers, and Jared went back to going through the old publicity material from before eight months ago.

"If you're planning to go on working," said Cara, and Sofi nodded.

"Yes, of course, until she is born, or I am told I must stop," she said. "By Dr. Frank, or Clena; I do not consider Issio the proper person to tell me." Jared, imagining the arguments about that, began to flip through the Solstice celebration pictures from two years ago.

"So you'll need something more like this," said Cara, "and maybe the skirt, too, don't you think?"

"Yes, but that shirt," protested Sofi.

"What's wrong," said Mimi, very straight-faced, "with a little pink lace and that nice print of smiley flower faces? In pink and blue, too!"

"Oh, hell," said Jared, staring at the picture of the Emergency Room staff gathered around a punch bowl; it brought the women up off the floor and attracted Clyde and Al from the table. He enlarged the picture to fill the screen and pointed out the woman just left of center, but he really didn't need to; Dr. L. Maarchesin was the only blond there, hair so fair as to be white, eyes as clear and sharp and blue as Maud's at her most imperial, tall, thin, and to complete the picture, a silver chain just glimpsed in the collar of her white uniform jacket.

It looked as if Gina was right, if physical resemblance to the other conspirators meant anything. The doctor was in on the plot, whatever it was.