Robin Cook - Abduction

“Why wait?” Donald demanded. “Why not tell us now?”

“You don’t realize how stressful the decon procedure was,” Arak said.

“Can you at least tell us how long the procedure lasted?” Suzanne asked.

“A little more than one of your months,” Arak said.

“We were asleep for over a month?” Michael questioned in disbelief.

“Essentially, yes,” Arak said. “And it’s stressful on the brain as well as the body. Tomorrow you will have to deal with more startling information. We’ve learned that it is easier to absorb when our visitors are rested. Even one night makes a big difference. So please, tonight relax, either here together or alone in your lodges or, best of all, with us at our celebration of your arrival.”

Perry searched Arak’s face. The man’s blue eyes held his gaze and exuded a sincerity he could not deny. “Okay,” he said. “At this point I don’t think I can sleep anyway. So, I’ll come, but tomorrow I’m going to hold you to your word.”

“Fair enough,” Arak said. He looked at Suzanne. “And Dr. Newell, what is your pleasure?”

“I’ll come,” Suzanne said.

“Marvelous,” Arak said. “And you, Mr. Fuller? What is your decision?”

“No,” Donald said. “Under the circumstances I would find celebrating rather difficult.”

“Very well,” Arak said, rubbing his hands again in obvious delight. “This is wonderful indeed. I’m glad most of you are willing to come. There would have been a lot of disappointed people if I had returned alone. Mr. Fuller, I understand your feelings and respect them. Please enjoy your rest. The worker clones will do your bidding.”

Donald nodded morosely.

“Now, let’s get on our way,” Arak said to the others. He motioned toward the open end of the dining hall.

“Will there be eats at this party?” Richard asked.

“Absolutely,” Arak said. “The finest Saranta can muster.”

“Then I’ll skip seconds on my dessert,” Richard said. He tossed his spoon onto the table, stood up, stretched, and belched loudly.

Suzanne glared at him. “Richard, have some respect for the rest of us even if you don’t have it for yourself.”

“But I do,” Richard said with a sly smile. “I restrained myself from farting in this mixed company.”

Arak laughed. “Richard, you are going to be a big hit. You’re delightfully primitive.”

“Are you yanking my chain?” Richard asked.

“Not at all,” Arak said. “You’ll be in great demand, I assure you. Come on! Let’s show you off!” With a wave, Arak started toward the open end of the room.

“All right!” Richard said, giving Michael an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign. Michael returned it with equal exuberance.

“Let’s party!” Michael cried. The two divers eagerly followed Arak.

Suzanne looked at Perry, who shrugged and said, “This is crazy, going to a celebration under these circumstances, but we might as well take it all in stride.”

Then she glanced at Donald. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Donald said gloomily. “But if you two want to fraternize, be my guests.”

“I’m going because I might learn some more,” Suzanne said. “Not to fraternize, as you put it.”

“Come on!” Perry called from the far end of the room.

“We’ll see you later,” Suzanne said. She hurried after Perry and the others, who were already on their way across the lawn.

Donald mulled over what Arak had said. All he knew for sure was that he didn’t trust him. From Donald’s point of view the man was too ingratiating. All this fantastic hospitality had to be some kind of trap. Yet Donald had no idea for what purpose other than to get them off their guard.

Donald turned and looked out the end of the room. The group was halfway to the columned pavilion and silhouetted against its illuminated exterior. Redirecting his eyes, Donald stared at the two worker clones, who were standing motionless to the side against the wall. They appeared so human it was hard for Donald to believe they were part machine as Arak had said. Maybe it was just another lie, Donald thought.

“Worker, I want some more drink,” Donald said.

The female worker clone immediately picked up the pitcher on the sideboard and stepped over to the table. Her shoulder-length hair was sorrel colored. She had pale, translucent skin. Leaning over she began to fill Donald’s cup.

Donald suddenly grabbed her wrist without warning. Her skin felt cold beneath his fingers. She did not jump or even appreciably respond. Instead she kept on pouring.

Donald tightened his grip to get a reaction, but it was to no avail. The woman finished filling the glass then righted the pitcher despite Donald’s grasp. Donald was taken aback. The woman was shockingly strong.

Tilting his head back Donald looked up into the woman’s frozen face. She did not try to detach herself from his grasp but rather blankly returned his stare. Donald let go of the woman’s arm.

“What is your name?” he asked.

She did not respond verbally or in any other fashion. Other than rhythmical breathing there was no other movement. She didn’t even blink.

“Worker clone, speak!” Donald ordered.

Silence persisted. Donald looked over at the male worker clone, but there was no response from him either.

“How come you people work and the others don’t?” Donald asked.

There was no response from either clone.

“All right,” Donald said. “Workers, leave!”

Instantly the two workers went to the door from which they’d come and disappeared. Donald got up and opened the door. Beyond it, a stairway descended into darkness.

Closing the door, Donald walked over to the open end of the room. He looked out at the scene. The light, which had been so bright earlier, had faded, as if the nonexistent sun had nearly set. Donald could just make out Arak and the others approaching the pavilion. He shook his head. He wondered again if he was dreaming. Everything seemed so bizarre yet disturbingly real. He felt his arms and his face. He felt normal to his touch.

Donald took a deep breath. Intuitively he knew that he was facing the most demanding mission of his career. He hoped that his training wouldn’t fail him, particularly his training regarding being a prisoner of war.

In their own scatological vernacular, Richard and Michael were “scared shitless,” but their unspoken credo was to deny it. Just like their reaction to the perils of saturation diving they responded with a distorted macho bravado designed to conceal their true feelings.

“Do you think those girls we saw earlier will be here at the party?” Richard asked Michael. They had lagged a few steps behind the others en route to the celebration in the pavilion.

“We can always hope,” Michael responded.

They walked in silence for a few steps. They could hear Arak talking with Suzanne and Perry, but they didn’t care to listen.

“Do you really think we were asleep for over a month?” Michael asked.

Richard stopped short. “You’re not going soft on me, are you?”

“No!” Michael insisted. “I was just asking.” Sleep had never been the solace for Michael that it was for others. As a child he used to be plagued with nightmares. After he’d gone to sleep, his father would come home drunk and beat up his mother. When he woke up, he tried to intervene, but the result was always the same: he, too, was beaten. Unfortunately, the process of sleep got inextricably associated with these episodes, so for Michael the idea of being asleep for a month was a source of enormous anxiety.

“Hello!” Richard said while giving Michael a series of slaps on the face. “Anybody home?”