One thing that Ryan immediately found odd was the complete lack of anything from before the terminal war of 2001. In fact, there seemed nothing in the whole complex that was older than a year or so. He asked the first of the coated scientists that they saw that afternoon.
"Nothing old? Define your terms, stranger."
"Nothing more than a few years old."
The man was stooped with only a few tendrils of pale hair pasted across a skull that showed the scars of surgery. Ryan noticed that the man's ears were reversed so that they faced backward.
"A few. What is a few?"
"Five," Ryan said, seeing that this absurd game of chopped logic could go on forever.
"Is there anything here older than five years? Yes, I can answer without hesitation that there is."
"Any books?" Krysty asked.
"Books? Define your terms. What precisely is a book, young woman?"
"Something you read."
"Ah." A wintry smile flitted for a moment across the sallow face. "The tag here that bears my name. Dr. Darren Canting. Can you read that, stranger?"
"Course I can."
"Then the question does not compute. You ask if there is anything you can read. You say you can read my identification pass. Ergo, you can read something that is here."
"Thanks, Doctor," Ryan said. "We'll be on our way." He led the other two along a lateral corridor and up a gentle slope.
"He's fucking crazy." Jak was about to spit his disgust on the spotless floor, then changed his mind. "Like fucking swampy with head blown off. They all like him?"
As the day wore on, it became increasingly obvious that the Wizard Island complex was filled with some of the Crater Lake strangest men and women Ryan and his friends had ever seen.
Dr. Tardy had said there were sixty-one of the descendants of the original scientists left. What she hadn't mentioned was that hardly a single person could qualify for the word normal.
They didn't seem like the muties who haunted the hotter parts of Deathlands, but they showed all manner of physical oddities.
There were dwarfs of both sexes, one of whom pulled himself along in a spidery frame, powered by one of the silent motors that ran the inflatable boats. His head shaking, he smiled at them so radiantly that the room seemed to light up.
A giant, at least eight feet tall, with the lumpy features of acromegaly, was assisted past them, almost being carried by a pair of sec guards. A young woman, face and skull totally devoid of hair, saw them watch him. "Dr. Vayr is our most brilliant astrophysicist. His intelligence quotient is below eighteen in all other matters."
Ryan nodded his understanding. "It's often the way, isn't it? I knew a man couldn't fart his way out of a wet paper bag, yet he could flick ear wax into a plastic cup at twenty paces. Every time. Never missed."
The woman smiled blandly and went on her way.
"Why did you say that? To the woman with no hair?" Krysty asked when the woman was out of sight.
Ryan shook his head. "Because I wanted to see just what sort of zombies we're dealing with. Fireblast! There's every kind of freak under the sun. It's like giving little kids a bag of stun grens to play with. Are they really just carrying on with their fucking research, like they say? There's got to be more, lover."
Jak's interest rose when they met two girls. Both were about eighteen, with long hair the color of prairie wheat and eyes as blue as the Kansas sky. Both wore lab coats of pale cerise, belted around their trim waists. Behind them there stood the enigmatic figure of one of the sec men, carrying several items of clothes over its arm and a mop and pail with the other arm.
"You are the strangers everyone speaks of?" the taller of the two girls asked.
"Your hair is white as paper," the other said, reaching out tentative fingers to touch Jak's mane.
"You never go out?" the boy asked.
"Out?"
"In fresh air. Up top. Above lake. Don't you ever go?"
They both shuddered dramatically, giggling, then clung to each other. "Externalizing quadruple negative, stranger," the first girl sniggered.
"We work. Research for Central. That's all."
"What's your specialty?" Krysty asked.
"I'm Dr. Louella Hall," the shorter of the two told him. "I work on neural destruction from airborne alkaloid disseminators."
"And I'm Dr. Angie Pflaug. My work is research into neural-directed laser personalized missiles for low-intensity termination of selected targets."
"I'm Jak Lauren, and I fuck pigs," the boy said with a low bow.
His words set them on another dreadful fit of giggles, piercing shrieks of laughter that grew louder and increasingly shrill. They held on to each other for support, eyes squeezed shut, tears flowing over their smooth cheeks. At the first meeting, Ryan had thought these two might have been the only normal scientists in the complex, but as the laughter went on, scraping at his ears, he realized they were just as weird as the others.
"What's that smell of?.." Krysty began, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Oh, Gaia!"
Ryan looked where she was staring and exhaled a sigh of revulsion. The laughter had affected the two young women to such an extent that both had lost all control of bladder and bowels. Their legs were streaked with the vivid evidence of their joint failure. Without another word, they tottered away down the corridor, leaving the mute sec men to put the clothes down and mop methodically at the mess they'd left behind.
Ryan, Krysty and Jak waited a while, then moved away in a different direction.
Later, when they met up for their last meal of the day, they all had similar tales of the complex's strange menagerie of scientists. The clocks showed that it was around Cin the green. The food was identical with the middle meal, but there seemed to be less of it.
Finnegan tucked into it with such eagerness that he managed to snap the bowl off his plastic spoon, leaving a jagged end. He held it up silently for the others to examine. Ryan shook his head.
"Too weak, Finn, I guess."
"Better'n fucking nothing," the portly blaster replied.
"Give it here." Finn passed Ryan the broken spoon. "Look."
He drove the broken end into his own arm, against the soft material of the coveralls. The plastic was so brittle that it splintered again, doing no damage at all.
"Anyone lend me their fucking spoon when they've finished eating?" Finnegan said, grinning.
Just before green D, the door of their quarters hissed open and in toddled Dr. Ethel Tardy, accompanied by a limping man with an artificial plas-limb where his right arm should have been. They were accompanied by four mutie sec men, holding their laser guns at the high port.
"May Central be with you," the diminutive woman scientist said.
"Hi, there," Ryan said, staying seated on his narrow bed.
"You have seen what you wished, visitwise?" she asked. "Monitoring reveals you have."
"We've been allowed to see what you wanted us to see. Not anything else."
Doc backed up Ryan. "Why can we not have unlimited access to all aspects of Project Eurydice? What is there for you to hide?"
The cherubic smile vanished, and the woman frowned. "Visiting personnel take care. Imperative cooperation with us or..." The sentence dangled between them unfinished, the threat as clear as a knife blade.
"What do you want, Dr. Tardy?" Krysty Wroth asked, trying to ease over the difficult moment.
"It is time for questioning. To find out about the rest of you."