Glen Allen - The shadow war

It was as if a wave passed across the surface of all those crawling, circling, floating spots of yellow and gold; almost as one, like faces in a startled crowd, they turned to him.

Benjamin spun around and ran. But as he did so he tripped over one of the high stools, and went crashing to the floor.

He nearly screamed-but then stopped at a horrifying vision of hordes of bees flying into his open mouth.

And then several things happened at once. Even as he raised his arm to shield his eyes from the first descending bees, he heard a shrill alarm-and then a sort of strangled hiss. A yellowish vapor began spraying from the ceiling. As its first tendrils reached him, his eyes and throat went icy hot with pain, and he found himself on his side, coughing and retching simultaneously.

The next few minutes were a blur. His eyes felt scalded, and a misty veil of tears obscured his vision… But he saw someone come into the lab, someone with a handkerchief over his mouth… Samuel Wolfe.

Wolfe grabbed Benjamin by his shoulders and began dragging him across the floor, toward the laboratory doors.

"Here," Wolfe said, "have another." He was holding a glass of water toward Benjamin. Benjamin thanked him, accepted it, drained the glass.

"Sure you don't want something stronger?" Wolfe asked, grinning.

Benjamin shook his head.

"Well then, allow me." And Wolfe rose and went into the kitchen at the back of the dining hall.

Though his eyes and throat still burned, Benjamin was finally beginning to believe he might survive. Thanks to Samuel Wolfe.

Coming to Edith's lab after speaking with Terrill, Wolfe had pushed open the door, only to discover Benjamin sprawled on the floor with a cloud of angry bees descending upon him. Immediately he remembered about the emergency button, rushed back to the door and pressed it, and then returned to extract Benjamin from the fearsome cloud of yellow gas and dying bees.

The alarm had brought almost everyone at the Foundation to the laboratory. Benjamin didn't recall clearly what had happened over the next hour or so. He remembered someone bringing eyedrops and an inhaler from the medical office and ministering to him as he lay on the wet grass outside the lab. It might have been Gudrun. And soon thereafter he remembered hearing the wail of an ambulance-apparently Arthur had called the nearest hospital, which was some thirty minutes away.

He also remembered someone saying that Edith Gadenhower was dead.

Once the ambulance had left with Edith's body, Wolfe had shooed everyone away, saying he would take Benjamin to the dining hall to get him some "medicinal libation." When Terrill had objected that he should speak to Benjamin first, Wolfe had said with firm authority, "Later, Arthur. He's in no condition to be interrogated now."

"Feeling better," Wolfe said, returning from the kitchen. He had a glass of wine in one hand-"Apparently they won't open the real liquor cabinet until dinnertime"-and some food on a tray for Benjamin: a green salad and some clam chowder.

"Eat up," Wolfe said sternly. "Get something inside you besides that damn gas."

"The… laboratory?" Benjamin managed to get out between dry coughs.

"Quite a mess," said Wolfe. "Apparently in trying to defend against the swarm, Edith knocked over a good deal of equipment. Glass everywhere. And of course dead bees. Hundreds of the little buggers. I was a little concerned. You know, they say a dead bee can still sting." He greeted Benjamin's look of surprise with a smile. "And that damn gas, still enough of it there to make one cough up a storm. But there was Hauser, tromping about, so I thought it was safe enough. By the way, he's still 'putting together' that list of computer serial numbers for us."

"Poor Mrs. Gadenhower," Benjamin said. "It must have been…"

"Yes, it must have," Wolfe said. He drained half the wineglass. "Ah, that's better. Anyway, it was impossible to tell anything about what happened to her."

"It just seems strange," Benjamin said. "She seemed so careful… yesterday. I can't imagine how she… could have been careless enough… to let them out."

"No, that does seem out of character," Wolfe said, eyeing him with some concern. Then he looked down to the books on the table, the ones Benjamin had taken from the library and had with him in Edith's lab. "I saved these from the shambles. I hope they were worth it."

"You have no idea," said Benjamin, wiping his eyes. "It's exactly as I thought. You see-"

"Not now," Wolfe interrupted him. "I must talk with Arthur about how Edith's 'incident' effects our… arrangement. The police will be coming out tomorrow. They have to now. And they'll be bringing the county medical examiner with them. For Fletcher. I don't see how they can delay an official investigation into his death any longer."

Benjamin looked disappointed. "You mean, our work here is over?"

"Not yet it isn't," Wolfe said, shaking his head. "But we don't have much time, at least not… unchaperoned time. Let me talk to Arthur. Then I'll meet you back in Fletcher's room."

Wolfe gulped the last of the wine, then stood, preparing to leave. Benjamin stood up as well, tucking the books under his arm, and, as they walked to the foyer, he turned to Wolfe.

"Gudrun spoke to me," he said.

Wolfe stopped. "Oh?" he said. "Anything… relevant?" Benjamin ignored the smirk in his tone.

"Just that, well, she admitted she'd lied to me."

Wolfe nodded thoughtfully, led him out through the doors into the quad.

"Anyway, get some rest. I'll see you in an hour."

Benjamin turned to cross over to the manse.

"Oh, and Benjamin." Wolfe turned to him. "Let's not talk with anyone else-especially Gudrun-until then, all right?"

Benjamin nodded, then watched Wolfe enter Arthur's office. He crossed the foyer and went to the staircase to go up to his room. Then he stopped.

He had an hour, he thought, and he already knew the parts of the books he wanted to show to Wolfe. Perhaps this was finally a good time for him to take a closer look at the mural.

The foyer's chandelier wasn't yet lit, and the dim light coming through the glass dome overhead didn't provide much illumination. Still, it was enough for him to make out the larger details of the mural. He began to study it, standing in the center of the foyer and turning to follow its narrative.

For narrative it was. He could see immediately that the mural was a historical panorama. And the story it told was the making of America.

One began on the left with a rather cliched (and politically incorrect) version of the discovery of America by Christopher Columbus. Heroic figures in full fifteenth-century garb stood at the top of a hill, greeting Native Americans in loincloths and feathers, while behind and below them the three ships of Columbus's fleet floated serenely in a vast, fading, turquoise-colored ocean. Next, and seemingly crowding them out of History's sweep, came the Pilgrims, dressed for a formal Thanksgiving feast, again accompanied by stock Native American figures. But in the midst of these typical scenes was a rather strange one.

It depicted a grove in some dense forest. In the center of the grove a preacher stood atop a tree stump, a copy of the Bible raised in one hand. He had long white flowing hair and a fanatical light in his eyes. Around him were gathered his pious flock, all kneeling, heads bowed. But what was most strange was that amongst the worshippers were some Native Americans, dressed as Europeans, but with dense black hair; one or two even wore bead necklaces. Benjamin had never seen a rendering quite like this, with Puritans and Natives mixed, praying together.

Then of course came a group of soldiers from the Revolutionary War era; but Benjamin was surprised, given the traditional depictions of the other eras, that there was no figure representing George Washington among them. Instead, there was a figure in a general's uniform-someone who bore a faint resemblance to the representation of Horatio Gates in the portrait over the Morrises' mantel. Next to this was a scene depicting the signing of the Constitution, but once again, none of the figures were recognizable. Where, he wondered, were Jefferson, Franklin, Adams? Or the father of our country, George Washington?