As he descended, the craft’s outer hull absorbed the heat of reentry then yielded it back into the atmosphere just as quickly.  As the harried pilot continued downward he gave the vehicle final instructions.  A holographic timer appeared in his field of vision counting the seconds down from sixty.  At fifty seconds the hatch blew open.  Malcolm jettisoned into the high atmosphere far higher than any normal human could have and still survive. Surrounded by the thin walls of the craft’s cockpit, which was now his escape pod, he watched as his vehicle violently self-destructed into dust.  As he plummeted through the chilled air frost formed over his fur.

            Falling faster now, he readied himself for landing.  Watching his timer to execute his precise plan, he commanded his chute to open.  Within seconds a huge yellow canopy unfurled above him.  A powerful jolt jarred him as he felt the full fury of an escape pod that overreached its speed design.  His entire body smarting from the bashing, the dazzled Malcolm tried to relax his muscles and wished for relief. 

            In the Numan camp the entire senior staff’s coms beeped for attention.  “Incoming Unidentified Flying Object” filled their fields of vision.  Data displayed along the left and right of their virtual screens.

            Young Matthew, in the mess hall having a late lunch, quickly sent Peter mail.  “What is it?” he asked.

            “Maybe an escape pod!” he quickly replied.  Then Peter quickly switched his com for general messaging.  “Everyone into the bunker just in case it’s a weapon!”   Within a minute the entire camp inhabitants rushed into the underground shelters.  Peter monitored the craft’s descent from the safety of his bunker.  His monitor sounded: “Identification confirmed.  Craft is jettisoned escape pod from B-Class Zoom Craft created by Ford Industries.  One life form detected.”

            Peter issued a command to the residents:  “Stay inside until confirmation is made,” he ordered.  “We can’t be too careful.  We have to know who’s headed toward us.”  He grabbed some field glasses then ventured out to the front of the camp.  He transmitted another coded message to certain members of the group.  Taking out binoculars, he watched as the pod made a controlled descent toward the refuge.  “Hail escape pod,” he transmitted.  “Identify yourself.”

            A voice message, but not an image, was transmitted back to him.  “My name is Malcolm.  I need to seek refuge in your camp.  You see, I am not human.”

            Peter, just recently confronted by others who made the same claim, was not as fast to deny this possibility.  “And what makes you say this?” he answered.

            “It is hard to say right now,” Malcolm replied.  “I must ask you to accept me as I am and trust me that I need refuge.  I need to communicate with Matthew Wash.  I’ll be on the ground within minutes.  I wonder if it would be possible to speak with him?”

            “It’s possible,” Peter answered.  “But I can’t promise anything until I know who you are.”

            “And,” Malcolm added, “I suppose you’ll have to know what I am also.  I am not exactly normal looking.”

            “Sir, really, I don’t care how you look.  You’re good enough for us.”

            “You might not say that when you finally see me,” he called out.

            “Yeah,” Peter replied.  “That’s what they have all been saying recently.”

            Peter watched as the pod swung in a wide arc as it approached the facility. Two microbursts of energy jetted from the bottom of the craft to make its computer-controlled landing as gentle as possible.  The parachute automatically detached instantly, then self-destructed in a flash of light high above the pod.  A hiss of air emitted from the tiny craft as the hatch moved out of position revealing the furry occupant.  Malcolm calmly pivoted on his seat, then slowly stood on the earth beneath him.  The two silently stared at each other for long seconds, Peter’s mouth agape.

            “Hello,” the beast finally said.  “My name is Malcolm and I’m a br . .”

            “A brain-clone of Dr. Lincoln?” Peter finished.

            “No.  Not quite.  My brain was synthesized by Dr. Lincoln - genetically engineered.  However, he used his brain as a base for the genome.  How - how did you know?”

            “I sort of guessed.  You aren’t the first to come here.”

            “You mean, there are others like me here?  I thought I was the prototype.”

            “Well, you are undoubtedly unique in your appearance,” Peter said calmly.  “But there are other brain-clones here.”

            “You mean soldiers from the Numan War?”

            “Some.  Others are not.  You’ll see.”

            Peter quickly sent a message to Father Janis.  “We’ve got another live one for you, Father, he said.  “Could you please meet me out in front?”

            “What is it this time?” came the reply.  “A snail?  A turnip?  A freaking duck-billed platypus?”

            “You’ll find out when you get here.”

            “No.  I decline!  I declare it human from here,” he said.  “I’m through with making up clever platitudes on the spot!”

            “Father, you sound drunk.”

            “As any sane man would be,” came the reply.

Chapter  Twenty Eight

The Unspeakable Disease

            A mystified group sat at the picnic table brought into the stable now.  Peter, Jenny, Matthew, the rescued animals, and now a mysterious visitor.  Peter made coffee and personally served it to each of his guests.  “Sorry for the quality of this coffee,” he said.  “It seems to have acquired a singular taste.”

            Matthew took a sip.  “That’s normal around here.  Our rations are getting pretty old. I’d think it strange if something actually tasted good.” He took another sip.  “It isn’t that bad.”

            Peter stammered.  “Yes.  It’s g-good.”

            “Peter, are you nervous?” Matthew asked.

            “Anyone would be, Matthew.  Do you realize the stress we’re under?”

            “I’m sorry if I am a source of anxiety,” Malcolm said.  With a body that is eight and a half feet tall, weighing nearly four hundred and fifty pounds, Malcolm clearly dominated the room.  Only Moo and Silver had greater body mass.  Yet Malcolm’s body was lean and muscular, clearly stronger and far more agile than any in the stable.

            “Well,” Peter began.  “Let me introduce you.”

            “That is not necessary,” Malcolm said politely.  “I know who you are.  Dr. Lincoln has extensive files on all of you.  Even the animals.”  He spoke carefully, knowing that his deep, booming voice was harsh by its nature.

            “You know about us?” William asked.  “And what do you think?  Are we less bizarre or more bizarre than you?”

            “I am what I am,” he replied.  “And I will make no comparison to anyone else.  That isn’t important.  What is important is the warning I have for all of mankind.”

            “What is that warning?” Pete asked, his voice sounding disquieted.  “What is the doctor up to now?  Is he going to make ten thousand of you?  How would he get the funding?  Everyone on Earth is his enemy.”

            “Not so,” Malcolm said.  “Every free man is his enemy.  Cuba is run by a dictator who is being rewarded handsomely for his cooperation.”

            “So the doctor is going to make another army, right?” Matthew asked.

            “Please don’t get ahead of the story.  It is more bizarre than you could possibly imagine.”

            “More bizarre,” Jenny softly said, “than a room full of hybrids?”

            “You can’t even compare.  You see, first you must understand that he is no longer planning on ruling the world outright.  He knows he doesn’t have much time on this Earth.  The doctor has a terminal disease.”

            “And what is that?” Peter asked.  “What disease does he have?”

            “It started out as lung cancer,” Malcolm said.  “He tried every modern medicine known to man to undo the cancer’s progression.  He’s known about the risk for years, but he thought he could always take new lungs from his brother, Gene.  When his brother was no longer available for transplant he tried to clone lungs for himself.  He succeeded, but by that time the cancer spread to his lymph system, then throughout his body.  Modern medicine helped.  Three times it went into remission and was almost out of his body completely.   Still, it’s a battle he can’t win.”

            “So old Doc is dying?” Moo said.  “I can’t say I’m sorry.  He should have stopped smoking.”

            “Then how is he a threat?” Tam Julius asked.

            “He has been experimenting with viruses,” Malcolm answered sullenly.

            “Holy cow!” Moo shouted.  “Don’t tell me he’s into germ warfare!”

            “Is he really that mad?” Chimp asked.  Immediately, the animals conferred with each other in a din of conversation.

            “Wait!” Matthew said.  “That’s not his style.  I don’t care how embittered he was.  He’d never destroy the world with a plague.  He wouldn’t gain anything by it.  He must have something else in mind.”

            “He does, my young brother,” Malcolm replied cordially.  “And I do think of you as a brother.  You and the animals are my only family.  And yes, he does have something else in mind that is worse than a plague.  He knew he could not create a master race of clones.  He tried and failed.  He also knew that it wasn’t good enough to have hundreds of thousands of brain-clones walking around.  He wanted world dominance forever.  He had yet to achieve it.”

            “So how can he do it?” Tam Julius asked impatiently.  “Come on. How does the doctor want to gain world dominance through a virus?”

            “Knowing he had a short time, he knew developing more clones like me in the normal way would take too much time.  But he does plan on making more like me.  He wants to duplicate me by the billions and he wants to do it within a year.  In five years he wants the entire world dominated by creatures like me.”

            Peter took a look at the black brew in his cup.  He smelled it then put it to his lips.  With much trepidation he sipped the odd flavor.

            “You don’t know exactly how clever the doctor is.  He has found a way.  A very, very insane way to carry out his plan.  You’ve heard of Biomorphics?” Malcolm asked.

            “Yes,” Matthew replied.  “And if the doctor has mastered that then we are all doomed. It’s when you infect a host with a virus that alters the entire genetic code of the host.  It was developed about twenty-five years ago.”

            Peter interrupted.  “Is that when some crazy doctors turned a mouse into a rat?”

            “Yes.  It was Dr. Lincoln, actually.   He pioneered it. It was done as a demonstration that such transformations can take place.” Malcolm replied.  “After that, they changed a chimpanzee into an orangutan.  But Dr. Lincoln has gone beyond that.  During his creation of me he found that he was too restricted when he attempted to plan my genetic code from the start.  There were too many unviable clone embryos.  He used biomorphic technology to redesign my gene sequence after I was started.  He used it to mold me into what I am today, bit by bit.  That’s what gave him the idea of a virus that would do more.”

            “So what does he plan on doing now?” Peter asked.  “What is he capable of?”

            “He,” Malcolm replied, “is now capable of using my genetic code as it presently stands to infect the general population of the world.”

            “You mean he’s going to try to make the existing population of this world transform into someone like you?”  Peter shouted.  “This is not good!”  Peter stood from his chair and began to pace around the room.  “This is not good!”

            “Something like me?” he replied loudly.  “Exactly like me.  And I must emphasize that he grew me as I am within eight months.  But with an adult human body, already grown, the transformation takes place in one month.  For children who are still growing, a matter of weeks.”

            Peter stopped pacing.  “You mean in four weeks a person like me can look like you?” he shouted.  “That’s the doctor’s great plan?  To make us all into apes?”

            At these words the room fell quiet.  Looks of horror and disbelief were on every face.  Finally Shep broke the silence.  “Are you certain he can do this Malcolm?  Does he have the viruses that are actually able to turn human beings into whatever you are?”

            The huge beast nodded his gigantic head.  “It is so.  He has already begun human experimentation.”

            “You mean there are already more like you?” Peter asked.  “With the doctor’s genius too?”

            “I am the first and only.  But about my brain, he enhanced its genetics.  He says there’s a thirty percent improvement. But the answer your question, yes.  There were infants that he had taken from the mother’s womb in one of his Cuban abortion clinics.  He injected them with the virus.  But once he demonstrated to himself that they became genetically identical to me, the prototype, he was satisfied that they would grow into creatures like me.  Then he aborted them before they could develop further.  He’s crazy like that.  When I once questioned the morality of what the doctor was doing, I found myself in a cage about the size of a jail cell.”

            Peter started to pace again, visibly disturbed.  He ran his hand through his hair and wiped the sweat from his brow.  “That doctor has done it to me again.  What can I expect of him next?”

            Matthew listened intently to the hairy genius before him, but as with all minds, his mind wondered.  He rubbed the stubble along his right cheek with the back of his hand, wondering what it would be like to have fur all over his body.  The thought made him shutter.  He looked at his long-time mentor, Peter, who also had a five o’clock shadow.  “It is too early to appear so unsightly,” he thought to himself.  “It’s all this talk about growing into a gorilla that makes me more aware of body hair.”  He examined the grotesque monster who had just referred to him as “brother” and wondered if it were really so.  “Could any human being be called Malcolm’s ‘brother,’” he thought.  Again, he looked at Tam-Julius, Chimp, Shep, Moo, William and Silver.  If Malcolm was his brother, were they also?  He cursed the brain he had in him and the man from whom it was modeled.  For no matter how well his brilliant brain served him, it had caused him more grief than anything else and made him wonder whether life, itself, was worth continuing.

            His mind raced to Peter’s wife whom he affectionately called Aunt Jenny since the time he was rescued by her from death when he was thirteen years.  That was her name until he grew up.  Now he examines her kind face as she is silently sipping her beverage.  Did she do him a favor?  Would he be in such grief if he had died as a boy?  Yet his grief was caused by his progenitor, Dr. Lincoln, not by other circumstances.  It was he and he alone that was the creator of unimaginable horror and actual nightmares.  Intense hatred welled up in his heart.  All he could feel was anger now.  Anger and the desire to kill the person who would try to manipulate the genetic code of the entire human race for his own mad conceit.

            “Peter,” he finally said.  “How can we stop the doctor once and for all."

            Peter was lost in thought and didn’t hear Matthew.  Finally he looked at Malcolm.  “How is he planning to infect people with the virus?”

            “I don’t know,” came the reply.  “He never told me.  He just boasted that it wasn’t hard.

            “Then how is the virus transmitted?  Through injection?  Through insects?”

            “Again, I don’t know,” Malcolm continued.

            “It’s really bothering you Peter,” Matthew said.

            “Of course it’s bothering me!” he shouted.  “I don’t want to turn into an ape!”

            “Cool off Peter,” Jenny said.  “We don’t know that you’ll ever be infected.”

            Peter didn’t respond.  The room fell silent.  Matthew had never seen Peter so out of control of his emotions.

            The animals asked a series of questions, “Does the virus affect animals or just humans?” one asked.  Others sent many queries this way, some of which could be answered, some not.

            Matthew’s eyes wondered toward Jenny’s face again.  He examined her closely.  Something looked a bit odd.  He couldn’t tell what.  It was more of a subconscious recognition than anything else.  Something that couldn’t be verbalized.  He tried to dismiss it as part of a troubled imagination, yet the thought persisted.  He put a teaspoon of sugar in his cup to ward off the “singular taste” Peter had described.  He sipped it slowly.

            He turned toward Malcolm again who was telling the animals that the virus affected humans only.  He looked to Peter who was busy asking questions of his own.  Peter’s expression.  It was a bit odd.  Something else about Peter, too, was troubling him.  “What could it be?” he asked himself.  He couldn’t quite put words to his thoughts.  Why was Peter taking this information so hard?  He was acting like it was a personal insult.  Matthew, again, looked at one face, then another. Had so many people forgotten to shave that morning?

            A thought struck Matthew like a shot gun blast.  He couldn’t contain himself.  He spontaneously jumped up out of his chair and yelled at the top of his lungs “No!”

            Peter and Jenny stood and faced their young friend.  “What? Matthew?  What is it?” they called out.

            “The virus! It is too simple to puzzle over.  Malcolm is infected with the virus.  Isn’t it obvious that he is the agent?  He’s contagious and we’ve already been infected!  Malcolm wasn’t imprisoned in that cell that he spoke of.  He was quarantined.  Malcolm!  How could you not understand?

            All eyes were on Malcolm.  Matthew, stricken with emotional grief, walked toward Jenny, reached to her face, and touched a short hair that was growing from her chin.  Jenny winced, rubbing the tiny stubble. She then looked to him with wonder at what it might portend.

            Malcolm stuttered.  “It, it, it is all my fault.  I should have known.  I, I, I . . .”

            Peter examined the slight growth of hair on his own chin.  It was more than a five o’clock shadow. That bastard.  I should have known he’d do something this bazaar.”

            “A cry choked Matthew’s voice as he finally uttered, “It’s air-borne.”

            “And I,” Malcolm continued, “have unwittingly been a carrier.”

            “Unwittingly?” Matthew shouted.  “How can you say you don’t know you brought us into danger.”

            Malcolm was silent, put his head into his hands.

            “Don’t be too hard on him,” Moo said.  “Remember.  Malcolm is only about eighteen months old.  For most of that time he was immature and under the Doctor’s absolute control.  He has a well developed brain but his is still inexperienced.”  He turned to Malcolm, “Don’t blame yourself.  You were the dupe of the Doctor.  Most of us have been there.”

            At this, Jenny stood.  “Oh God,” she said, tears filling her eyes also, “Please be with us.”

            “Damn the doctor!” Peter shouted.  “He tricked me!  He’s tricked us all!”  He tossed his coffee cup, shattering it against the stable’s walls.

            A second passed, but only a second.  Malcolm’s com generated an image to Peter and to those around the table.  It was a twelve-inch high hologram of the doctor, himself, standing before the group facing toward Malcolm.  “Greetings, Malcolm,” he said.  “I see you know of my little trick.  Oh, don’t be surprised.  I have been listening to everything you have heard and seen since I let you escape from your cage.”

            Malcolm tried to stop the message by issuing every cancel command to his com.  Nothing stopped the gloating menace from continuing his speech. 

            “Don’t try to end this transmission.  I’ve thought of everything!”  The hologram turned toward Matthew.  “It’s nice to see you are well, Washer!  And I am quite pleased that Purger and Jenny are there with you.”  The doctor’s facade of cordiality faded.  His voice became hard and loud.  “And so the plot thickens.  You must know by now that you are infected with a custom virus of my designing.  Yes.  And all who have come in contact with Malcolm have caught it.  And, yes, it is quite contagious I assure you.  All of you are destined to be what I, Dr. Henry Lincoln, want you to be.  You all are under my special care.”

            “You bastard,” Peter said.  “You’re destroying us!  What mad pleasure do you get from our torture?”

            “Are you surprised Purger?” he responded.  “Torture you say? 

            There’s no torture here.  I’ve given you a gift!  Within fifteen minutes of exposure to it you will feel its effects.  Within a month you’ll resemble apes more than humans.  Within two months your transformation will be complete!”  The mad doctor chuckled at his own irony.  “You know it won’t be all that bad.  You’ll even begin to enjoy the transformation!”

            “Enjoy it?” Matthew shouted.  “You are mad!”

            “No I’m not!” he yelled.  “You are being transformed, but not into apes.  You’ll be super-human!  You will have vastly superior mind-power,  even more powerful than the warrior clones. Your bodies will live three hundred years and your physical strength will be that of twenty men.  And thanks to you,” the doctor chuckled at the thought, “one day every creature on Earth will praise me for being their progenitor and the greatest benefactor of humankind that the world has ever seen!  Gone will be the weakness of petty flesh and minds that are too small to grasp my greatness.  There will be no more disease.  The entirety of simian kind will look upon me as their benevolent father!  I in them, they in me.  We will all be one even as my father and I are one.  My kingdom will endure forever.”

            At this, the doctor, overcome by his madness, began a horrid guffaw. Each heave of laughter pierced the hearts of all in the room, sending electrifying chills through everyone present.

            Matthew cried out “No!  We will stop you!”

            “Stop me?” he said.  “Why?  You should thank me.  And how would you stop me?  An antidote?  There is no cure!”

            Peter interrupted.  “I’ve had enough!”  He commanded his com to initiate the Numan Camp’s  jamming device which halted all transmission to and from the compound.  The doctor’s image quickly blanked out.

            “We have to find a cure!” Matthew said, “and quick!”

            “But how?” Malcolm answered. “This isn’t a laboratory, and you can’t leave!  We should all be quarantined!”

            “We really do have to isolate ourselves,” Peter concurred.  “The camp must be evacuated immediately.”

            Peter actuated the camp’s public address system using his com.  “This is Peter.  An emergency has come upon us.  All residents of the camp must go to the South camp immediately.  Take what provisions you can carry.  You will not be coming back.  I repeat.  This is an emergency evacuation.”

            Seconds later Peter got a call from Father Janis.  “What’s happening Peter?  Why the evacuation?”

            “It’s too difficult to explain Father.  Just know that the doctor has begun a new phase of his plan and it involves germ warfare.  We have to get everyone out.”

            “And where will I meet up with you for a conference?”

            “I’m afraid I won’t be joining you.  Matthew, Jenny and I are infected.”

            “Infected?  We’ll get you some doctors!”

            “Too late for that Father.  We will need some equipment, though.  See what you can manage with the emergency funds.  I’ll email you a list of what we need later today.”

            “Very well, Peter,” the Father said solemnly.  “May God be with you.”

            “Damn,” Matthew said.  “The doctor’s done it again.  Just when you think things are safe he shows up and wallops us all.  What are we going to do now?”

            Jenny began to cry.  “Peter!  Peter!  Tell me it will be all right!”

            Peter walked toward his wife and gave her a passionate hug.  “Jenny,” he said calmly.  “You must trust me.  Trust me.  Everything will be all right.  I promise you.  Everything will be just fine.”

            “Fine?” Matthew thought.  He didn’t want to cause Jenny any more emotional distress so he didn’t counter what Peter said.  But Peter said it with such grief in his voice he was beginning to doubt Peter’s emotional state.  They were facing a horrible assault on their bodies by a very aggressive virus.

            Matthew’s mind sped toward a cure.  There was no sophisticated equipment on the premises, not even in the infirmary.  And although they were pretty well trained to handle malnourishment and injuries, none of them were doctors.  Only Matthew had a quick enough mind to even approach the issue of trying to find a cure.

            The animals were not idle.  Throughout this scene they were communicating among themselves with their coms.  “Jenny.  Did you know about the virtual laboratory?” William suggested.  “It’s on the Internet.  It’s meant for college students.  It has simulations of the most sophisticated equipment that exists.”

            “Thank you, Moo,” Peter said.  “We can’t use a virtual lab for this.  We need the real equipment.  But don’t worry.  I have an emergency fund.  We’ll get what we need.”

            “Equipment is expensive.  How can you do it?”

            “I have some friends who’ll front the money.  Don’t worry.  I’ll get equipment.”

            “We need an electron microscope.”

            “Matthew!  Stop talking about it,” he shouted.  “I’ll get the equipment!”

            Peter left the room.  He used his com to email someone.  He came back in.  “There.  It’s ordered.  The supplies will be here tomorrow morning.  And don’t ask me how.  J