After shooting Brian a glower, Briggs continued on with Colonel Hargis.
Brian noticed a great deal of activity off to the right, where a number of trees had apparently been burned. When they walked closer, he could see that there was a big, charred hole in the ground, still steaming slightly. The smell of the burned trees—and something more—hung in the night air.
“What’s going on there?” Meg asked, indicating the white-suits setting up equipment and lights near the smoking hole.
“That’s the source of our worries,” said Dr. Trimble intensely. “A troublesome little souvenir from space. A mote in God’s eye.”
“What?”
“A meteor,” said Trimble.
Meg moved forward, fascinated by the sight, but Trimble reached out a glove and gently restrained her.
“Don’t get too close,” he said. “There’s danger of contamination.”
“I don’t understand,” said Meg.
Trimble turned to them, and his features were clearer now in the light. He had a handsome, well-preserved face, even though Brian figured the old bird must be at least seventy, judging by the gray hair, the wrinkles, and the gauntness. But the old guy seemed spry and lively, bursting with energy. His blue, expressive eyes darted here and there as he talked, and there was an enthusiasm and excitement in every gesture.
“I’ll make it simple,” Dr. Trimble began. “The dinosaurs ruled the Earth for millions of years, and yet they died out almost overnight. Why?”
Meg shrugged. It was way past Brian too.
“The evidence points to a meteor or maybe an asteroid that fell, bringing alien bacteria with it. Bacteria to which there was no natural immunity! Just like in H. G. Wells’s War of the Worlds!”
“Plague?” said Meg. “Is that what this is all about?”
The scientist shook his head, smiling. “No. Prevention. Think of us as that apple a day that keeps the doctor away. We look for possible infection from outer space. And if it comes, we make sure it doesn’t spread.”
“And you think your meteor brought some killer germ from outer space?”
The man’s eyes looked up to the sky and he spoke in a breathless tone. “It’s something I’ve expected—and prepared for—all my life.”
Brian shook his head. “Oooh, boy, you got a surprise coming, buster.” He’d figured it out by now. This was what the Can Man had been babbling about. The light from the sky, the meteor—that thing on his hand! He must have picked it up from the meteor, steaming now in the ground! “That meteor brought something, all right, but if it’s a germ, it’s the biggest son of a bitch you’ve ever seen.”
“And getting bigger!” Meg added.
Brian was surprised at the white-suits’ reaction. All the plastic faceplates swung their way, and the buzzing talk ceased. Dr. Trimble’s eyes got very big as he turned to face them like somebody who had just been told he’d won a jackpot.
“Would you care to enlighten me?” he requested.
Meg and Brian looked at each other. How could they describe what they’d been through? Paul thought. “You’d better start with Paul and the Can Man, Meg,” said Brian. “And then I’ll pick up from there.”
She nodded and proceeded to tell the story, starting with that glistening glob on the hand of the Can Man. The scientist stayed stock-still as he listened to how the thing had grown, how it had attacked and eaten Paul, how no one would believe what Meg had seen.
And then Brian took over. He told of the huge thing in the Tick Tock Diner and how it had pulled George Ruiz into the sink, and how it had moved like a son of a bitch, almost getting them.
“It’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen,” said Brian. “It’s like Dr. Frankenstein dumped all the spittoons in the world into one smelly glob, and then stuck the electrodes in!”
Dr. Trimble nodded.
“Hmm. Most curious,” he said.
“We’re telling you how people have been horribly dissolved by that thing,” said Meg, “and all you can say is ‘Most curious’?”
“Forgive my emotional detachment, but it comes with the job. Biologically speaking, you must understand, I deal with much death, in many horrible ways. Cancer, disease of various sorts… AIDS, what have you. I know them all too well. But this”—he stuck a finger in the air—“this is something quite different, it would seem. All those are diseases that strike from within. This giant amoeboid seems to strike from without! And as it absorbs its victims, so its mass and cellular content expand. But the question is, my friends: Is it single celled… or multicelled? Its rate of growth suggests single celled, and yet it is like nothing that exists in nature. By the way, did you notice the presence of a nucleus?”
“He means, like the brain,” said Meg.
“All I saw floating in that thing were pieces of bodies!” said Brian.
“How about flagella?”
“Huh?”
“Like, long antennae,” said Meg. “You mean, like in paramecia?”
“Aha! The young lady has taken biology. Excellent. Perhaps I should direct my question to you.”
“No, no antennae, sir, nothing like a paramecium. But come to think of it, it was kinda like the things we looked at under microscopes… Only, it doesn’t seem to have any skin!”
“A giant amoeba without a membrane—well, that is something. That’s not to say it’s an amoeba, but I think that we can assume that it’s single celled. The DNA structure must be very simple yet terribly elegant to promote an eating machine of this magnitude!”
“You believe us!” said Meg, just beginning to comprehend that they were being taken seriously.
“Yes, my dear. I believe you. Everything you have said confirms the existence of this thing, this horrid yet fascinating blob… And yet there may be even more to it than we know.”
As they were talking, more equipment and vehicles had arrived. Brian turned around, noticing for the first time that a windowless van had pulled up behind them.
“I can’t begin to thank you both,” Dr. Trimble was saying. “This information is incredibly valuable.” He went to the van and opened a back door. “Please, get in.”
“Where are we going?” asked Meg.
“Back to town,” said Dr. Trimble. “Morgan City is under quarantine until we’ve isolated that organism and checked every living soul for signs of infection. As I mentioned before, we are a containment unit. We don’t want any disease to spread.”
But Brian didn’t like the sound of this. He stayed put. “In the meantime we’re your prisoners.”
“Nonsense,” said Dr. Trimble. “You’re my patients.”
“Sounds like the same thing to me.”
“Brian,” said Meg, already getting in.
“Young man,” said the scientist, getting stern, “I’m far too busy to debate the point with you. Now, please step into the van.”
Meg stepped back down and grabbed Brian by the arm. But Brian instead backed away toward the woods, dragging Meg along with him. “Look, thanks for the offer, Doc, but my bike’s right over there and we can make it back on our own.” He waved good-bye with his free hand. “By the way, love your tailor. Gotta get me one of those.”
He turned around and ran smack into the broad-shouldered Colonel Hargis, accompanied by two other husky white-suited soldiers gripping M16’s. Tall too. They loomed over Brian Flagg like twin sentinels.
“Get in the van,” rumbled Colonel Hargis, in a voice like God’s.
Brian recognized the tone immediately, and knew that this was no time for rebellion. “Oh! Right! Van ride sounds nice!”
He and Meg clambered in, and the door immediately slammed shut behind them. Brian could hear the colonel bellowing outside. “Get these civilians to the relief station, ASAP!”