meg generations, page 19
part #6 of meg Series
Unless …
He stared at the emergency lights mounted above each door and remembered the creature’s sensitivity to bright lights.
If there was power, I could open the garage doors remotely and allow her inside, then confine her with the emergency lights. How long would it take the crew to get here … ten minutes? We could shoot her with tranquilizers and load her into the hopper, then cover the top of the tank with the cargo net so she couldn’t climb out.
He climbed out from beneath the work table and tried turning on the desk lamp―
―nothing.
Find the fuse box!
Fiesal located it on the wall separating the two roll-up garage doors. He heard the animal snorting as he pried it open and scanned the panel. Locating the main switch, he flipped it on―
―causing the generator to double click and power up. Searching the double row of circuit breakers, he located the one labeled GARAGE DOOR and flipped the switch. Then he searched the interior walls for anything that resembled a garage door opener.
Finding nothing, he returned to the side entrance and closed the door, revealing three light switches and a pair of vertical buttons that he knew had to be the automated garage openers. He pressed one of the buttons―
―causing the garage door’s chain to raise the immense panel on the left.
The creature entered, baring its fangs, saliva dripping from its lower jaw.
Fiesal’s heart raced as he waited for the juvenile pliosaur to clear the garage door frame before pressing the button again, causing it to reverse directions and lower to the cement floor.
The 16,000-pound goliath was about to strike the moving object when Fiesal turned on the warehouse lights, the twin beams chasing the beast away from the garage doors and into the center of the warehouse.
Ha! Not so tough in the light, are you? Now you are my dog.
The Lio moved toward Fiesal, who backed his way quickly to the side entrance in order to escape―
―only to find the metal door locked.
Son of a bitch! The bolt was electronic … that is why it wouldn’t remain closed.
Abandoning his plan, he pressed both garage door controls, reopening the panels. Go on … get out of here!
Instead of escaping, the Liopleurodon advanced. It paused six feet in front of him, its nostrils snorting mucus as it struggled to breathe.
Look at you … you’re dying. Stupid animal―
The Lio leaped forward, its hellish jaws snatching him around the chest.
Fiesal screamed as the needle-sharp fangs in the creature’s upper jaw punctured his lungs and rib cage, the lower teeth shredding his calf muscles. The beast raised him off the ground and violently shook him, the pain causing him to momentarily black out―
―the lava-like acids of the pliosaur’s digestive enzymes burning through his flesh as he regained consciousness in a pit of darkness. He lashed out at the stomach lining, clawing at it with his melting fingers―
―and suddenly he was being propelled back into the light, the Lio regurgitating him onto the cement floor.
He thrashed about in agony, blind and gagging, begging Allah to take his soul.
As if it comprehended his prayer, the crocodilian jaws snatched Fiesal bin Rashidi off the ground, its teeth grinding flesh, bone, and sinew into a bloody pulp with every crushing chew until its prey ceased all resistance.
A half a dozen more smacks of its jowls determined the human was an insufficient energy source, and the Lio spewed what was left in its mouth onto the cement floor.
Exiting through one of the open garage doors, it headed back to the water.
* * *
The man dragged himself out of the sea and squeezed himself between two boulders, seeking shelter from the breaking waves. The heavens spun in his head, the pain driving him toward delirium, yet he refused to stop―not now … not when he was so close.
Moaning in agony, he stood on his left foot, moving from rock to rock until he reached the motorized raft. He rolled over its starboard side, careful not to bang his right leg.
The world was still spinning in his vision, so he closed his eyes and felt for the emergency kit. Removing the gun from the plastic container, he loaded it.
Lying on his back, Robert Gibbons fired the flare into the night sky, signaling to his crew that he needed help. He contemplated adjusting the belt strapped around the remains of his right calf muscle, only the wave of pain pulled him under and he blacked out―
―never seeing the Liopleurodon. Hobbling on its four finned appendages, the creature entered the dark surf and disappeared.
CHAPTER 14
Fort Lauderdale International Airport
Fort Lauderdale, Florida
IT WAS 8:18 P.M. on the east coast when David Taylor stepped out of the air-conditioned terminal and into the South Florida humidity. He sat on a concrete bench and waited while his sister finished circling the airport for the fourth time―the uniformed police officers refusing to allow any cars to linger more than sixty seconds in the passenger pick-up lanes.
He stood as the rental car pulled up curbside. Opening the rear passenger door, he tossed his bag in back and then climbed up front with Dani.
You look tired, she said, leaning over to give him a quick hug.
You look worried. How bad is she?
They don’t think she’ll last the night. Of course, they said that yesterday too, and she hung on.
Geez … David laid his head back, tears welling in his eyes. What happened to that whole white cell thing?
We waited too long. I called the doctor yesterday and I told him to bring in the donor to initiate the protocol. As of two hours ago there’s an IV bag at his clinic filled with cancer-killing granulocytes waiting to save mom’s life.
That’s great!
No, it’s not. Dr. Maharaj doesn’t feel mom’s strong enough to handle it. He’s probably right, but if we don’t give it to her, she’s going to die anyway.
Then give it to her.
It’s complicated, Dani said, turning on to the ramp leading to the Florida Turnpike. Dr. Maharaj isn’t affiliated with the hospital, so he can’t just walk in and hook up an IV.
So we’ll bring her to him.
She’s not strong enough to travel.
Ugh! So what are we supposed to do?
If we can get the granulocytes, I can hook the bag up to her IV.
Maharaj will give it to you?
No. But I know where it is; I saw them place it in a refrigerator while I was filling out releases. There’s no lock and―
Hold it, Dani. You want to break into this guy’s office and steal an IV bag?
I never said break in, and technically it’s not stealing since Dad paid for it. I called the clinic an hour ago and said I needed to stop by tonight and pick up some info about the protocol to show the hospital administrator. There’s only one nurse on duty at night. While you ask a million questions about the treatment, I’ll excuse myself to use the bathroom―all I’ll need is two minutes, tops.
David shook his head. This is crazy.
"No, little brother―crazy is what you did when you tried to save Bela and Lizzy. This is an attempt to save our
mother’s life. Maybe it’s a long shot, but it’s the only shot she has."
Take it easy … I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.
West Boca Hospital
Boca Raton, Florida
Jonas stared at the latest CT scan of his wife’s right lung while Dr. Calvert pointed out several large masses. What we had hoped was merely pneumonia is the spreading cancer. I’m so sorry.
She powered off the screen and removed a sheet of paper from a manila folder. This is an order instructing our staff to either resuscitate or do not resuscitate.
Resuscitate her. He reached for the pen to sign.
Mr. Taylor, before you sign it’s important you understand what you are committing us to. When your wife’s heart stops, we’ll be jump-starting it with paddles or using CPR. When she stops breathing, we’ll be intubating her.
Intubate? You mean you’ll shove one of those tubes down her throat?
To keep her breathing, yes sir.
Jonas peeked in at Terry. She was in a morphine-induced, semi-conscious state, lying in bed at a forty-five-degree angle, her breathing made possible by a mask.
He recalled how his wife had fought a less-invasive breathing apparatus the night they had arrived. No, I can’t do that to her … it’s not what she would want.
Taking the pen, he signed the DNR order. Then he entered Terry’s room and closed the door, wiping the tears from his eyes.
She was restless, fighting death in a semi-conscious state.
Jonas held her hand, whispering, It’s alright, baby. You don’t have to hold on any longer. Everything will be okay, we’ll do this together.
She squeezed his hand so tightly he felt pain, then watched as she kicked and spasmed, her blood pressure rising from 73/40 up to 102/53 on the digital board behind her bed.
Her almond eyes opened, releasing a tear.
* * *
Dani introduced David to the nurse on duty at the South Florida Bone Marrow/Stem Cell Transplant Institute. Roseanne Serrone, this is my brother―
David Taylor, oh my God! She removed her iPhone from her pocket, her fingers dancing across the screen until the desired YouTube video began playing―a night scene taken from the Tanaka Lagoon’s east bleachers.
See! I was there the night that Lio-whatever-you-call-it killed Bela and Lizzy. She held up the device―the crowd on their feet as a dark dorsal fin cut across the lagoon, the juvenile Meg chased by a massive creature more than twice its size."
Dani nudged her brother. Watch it with her David while I use the bathroom.
He took the iPhone from Nurse Serrone, feigning interest. That was scary, huh?
Oh my God, you have no idea. She laughed. What am I saying … of course, it was much scarier for you. Would you mind if I took a photo?
Without waiting for a reply, she held up the iPhone and leaned in next to him, snapping several pictures.
They turned as Dani came running down the hall. Dad called; we have to go.
David waved to the nurse and then hurried out the front entrance after his sister to the deserted parking lot. That was quick. Did you get it?
I got it. You drive. She climbed in the passenger seat.
What’s wrong?
She shook her head, unable to speak.
David started the car and slammed it into gear, racing through the deserted complex.
* * *
David followed his sister off the elevator, the two siblings jogging down an empty white corridor to the double doors of the ICU.
Their father was waiting outside of the first room on the left. Unshaven, with dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, he looked visibly shaken. A blue light was flashing above the closed door, the curtains drawn as an emergency team worked furiously inside.
Dad … what happened?
She stopped breathing. I signed a do not resuscitate order about two hours ago, but …
You changed your mind. Dani hugged him.
She’s fighting it. Let’s give her one final round. He looked up to see his son. That’s what we Taylors do, right kid?
David nodded, a lump in his throat as he hugged his father.
Dr. Calvert exited the room ten minutes later, followed by the paramedics. All right, Mr. Taylor, she’s been intubated. You and your family decide what you want to do next.
Thank you. Jonas and his children entered the room, Dani closing the door behind them.
Terry was lying flat, the breathing tube in her mouth―the machine beside her pumping air in and out of her lungs. The digital vital signs behind her bed showed her pulse was 48, her blood pressure 78/56.
David stared at his mother, barely recognizing her. How much weight has she lost?
Too much, Jonas said, returning his chair by the right side of her bed. He stroked her hair gently. Terry, David’s here. He came all the way from British Columbia to witness your miracle. He motioned for David to sit in the chair.
Hey, Mom.
Jonas joined Dani, who was inspecting the two intravenous bags feeding into her mother’s frail arms. What do you think?
This thick elixir running below her armpit is the nutrient bag; we don’t want to disturb that. I can run the granulocytes through the morphine drip, but I think we should wait until after the nurse comes in to change out the bag so they don’t notice it. It should drain in the next fifteen or twenty minutes.
Okay … good.
Dad, as these granulocytes make their way through her body and start attacking the cancer cells, it’s really going to take a toll on mom. Dr. Maharaj said it will induce a high fever. She’s already so weak … what happens when she goes Code-Blue again? How many times can you keep starting her heart?
Are you having second thoughts?
I just … Dani wiped away tears. I don’t want to torture her because we’re not ready to let her go.
Let’s just get this stuff flowing in her veins.
* * *
It was 10:15 p.m. when the nurse entered to swap out the empty IV bag with a new one. She took note of her patient’s vitals and left.
David followed her out, closing the door behind him. He waited for her to enter another room and then tapped on the outside of the window of his mother’s ICU room.
Dani removed the clear bag of fluid from her purse. She waited while her father unhooked the new bag of morphine from the stand and then hooked the donor bag of granulocytes in its place.
Jonas re-hung the morphine bag, positioning it so it partially concealed the new IV.
Dani started the drip. Okay, we’re in.
How long will it take to drain into her system?
I don’t know … three or four hours.
Jonas checked the wall clock. Maybe you should go back to the apartment with David.
She shook her head. If something goes wrong with the drip―
Dani, if they discover that IV then I don’t want you here. This could get you kicked out of Medical School.
She hesitated, weighing his words. Then she checked the IV, hugged her father goodnight and left.
CHAPTER 15
Aboard the Hopper-Dredge McFarland
Strait of Juan de Fuca, Salish Sea
CYEL REED STOOD BY THE STERN RAIL, glancing from the cloudless night sky aglitter with stars to the blinking yellow bow light of the Hot & Spicy, which was trailing the McFarland half a mile to the east.
Three months at sea, stuck on this damn garbage scow. Smallwood better go for this or I’m contacting that prince.
The cell phone in his front pants pocket vibrated. He checked the time: 3:59 a.m., then glanced around to make sure he was alone before answering it. I’m here.
Have you completed the job?
Not yet.
May I remind you, Mr. Van Sicklen has no influence with the Coast Guard outside of the Salish Sea. At your present course and speed, you will be leaving the strait in eighty-three minutes. If you wish to be rescued from the wrath of your crew―
I wish to be paid in full.
Our arrangements were clear. We sent you twenty percent of your fee as a down payment.
Things have changed. I want the balance of the fifty wired now … unless you’re not interested in having me eliminate both remaining pups.
Bela’s offspring? You know where it is?
It’s beneath our keel. Somehow it knows the albino is inside the hopper, but it’s there for the taking.
How would you bring it aboard?
I’d have to kill the albino first, then drain enough water from the hopper to reestablish a negative pressure differential powerful enough to suction Bela’s pup into the tank. Once that monster’s in, I’ll drain the tank and suffocate her.
I assume you want another fifty for Bela’s pup?
Seventy-five.
No deal. I can go as high as sixty.
Then you’d better call the missus, because I’m not risking my neck for anything less than seventy-five thousand.
Stand by, I’ll call you right back.
Cyel pocketed the iPhone and headed forward. Three months without a new contract … I gave the institute twenty years of my life and this is how Taylor and Mackreides repay me? Old man Tanaka would have never left me twisting in the wind like this―even when he was on the verge of bankruptcy he’d always take care of his key personnel.
And placing David in charge … what the hell does a kid know about running a business? I’ll give him credit for capturing the albino, but what are the chances this juvenile manages to survive in captivity … one in five at best? When it dies, I’ll be out of a job. Even if it lives, it’ll be years before it’s large enough to draw decent-sized crowds. Meanwhile the lagoon’s falling apart and the filtration system needs to be replaced. Does Taylor think a bank’s going to loan a
twenty-two-year-old the millions needed to turn this thing around?
Screw ’em. Better to get off the Titanic now before we hit the iceberg.
Arriving at the hopper, Cyel stayed to the right, following the star-board rail to the control station which operated the dredge. Powering the system was a 50-kilowatt generator which was anchored to the deck, the unit as large as a minivan. Situated next to the device was a plywood storage trunk, its brass latch sealed with a padlock.
Cyel removed a silver chain from around his neck which held the key. He popped open the lock and raised the lid, removing a ten-foot-long bamboo fishing pole. A copper pulley was attached at the tip. Mounted beneath it was a copper block and matching metal plate.
He laid the wood pole by the generator and then slid open the miniature power plant’s side panel, exposing two lengths of insulated copper wire. The longer wire ran from the unit’s positive terminal to the bamboo pole like fishing line, passing over the contactor en route to the leader.
The second line ran from the generator’s negative terminal to a copper plate that was the approximate size of a legal pad.
