By Mike Suchcicki
Copyright 2011 Mike Suchcicki
Younger readers: Parental Advisory
Part 1. Wild child
"As we can see, boys and girls, there is, indeed, safety in numbers," said David Lake.
Lake, Pamela Gray and Cornealius pushed their way through the marketplace crowd.
It was called a "marketplace," and indeed there were dozens of vendor and food booths, carts and pavilions scattered throughout the large pedestrian plaza that connected a sextet of office high-rises, but it was for more than just commerce. Cheeley Plaza had become, in the years since the Infestation, one of the more popular gathering areas, with thousands congregating almost on a daily basis; on weekend days, like this particular Saturday, there was barely room to move. It was like having an outdoor festival all year long. Groups of friends erected tents and canopies for TV-viewing, gaming, barbecuing and socializing. Religious groups created outdoor worship areas. At least two shoestring theater troupes entertained upon portable stages. Buskers of all types and talents were scattered throughout the grounds. Policemen by the dozens calmly patrolled the throngs.
The reason for the regular gathering, as Lake had said, was safety. Very few city dwellers remained indoors, unless their buildings were equipped with top-of-the-line spore filtration systems, or malectoplasm-detection devices. But such systems were out of the price ranges of all but the very rich. Anyone not living in a luxury skyscraper preferred to spend their time outdoors in large, open areas with lots of other people. In such gatherings, spore had little or no chance of settling and gathering enough of a concentration to morph into malectoplasm, the breeding substance of Ghouls.
"Do we know, exactly, where the 'plasm was detected?" Gray asked.
Cornealius pointed ahead to an edge of the plaza where the crowd had thinned to almost nothing. "In that parking garage just off that one building."
"Figures," Lake said. "Ghouls love them their parking garages. But this looks like a typical clean-and-clear. Why did they call in the Science Squad?"
"You're not going to start calling us that, are you?" Gray said.
Lake shrugged. "It fits. What would you call us?"
"We don't need a nickname," she said.
"Apparently there are inconsistent patterns in this development," Cornealius said. "General Zone wanted you two to see if there's any cause to be concerned about mutating strains or migration anomalies."
"How about 'Ghoul Squad'?" Lake said.
"NO!" said Gray and Cornealius.
Lake grinned. "Well, if there is, in fact, a major 'plasm formation this close to so many people, it is indeed an inconsistency," he said, scanning the crowds.
"So you think the spore might be getting braver?" Gray said.
Lake smirked. "You know I don't think there's any kind of sentience there," he said. "I think it's just density, wind patterns and sheer luck."
Gray said, "Then, why, in your average apartment, does ‘plasm not form in living rooms or bedrooms? It’s always in a closet or storage room. The same goes for offices, stores, alleyways. Spore doesn’t like people for some reason. It gets near people, but not exactly where the people are."
"For the same reason your entire apartment might be dusty except for the places you move and sit," Lake said. "Your backside is literally cleaning the spore away before it can gather."
They had worked their way to the edge of the marketplace crowds, to the entrance of a near-deserted breezeway from the plaza to the parking garage.
Gray turned to Cornealius. "What do you think, C?"
"Frankly I don't care about any of it until the stuff turns into a Ghoul," he said. "That's when my job begins."
Lake flipped open his satchel and double-checked his equipment. "Well, then, let's all get started on our jobs, shall we? I'll go first."
Cornealius and Gray watched as Lake walked down the breezeway toward the open pedestrian entrance to the garage. He stopped briefly to readjust his satchel and the Ghoo gun in its holster then looked casually into the parking area and froze.
Slowly he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his cell phone, moving as slowly and as little as possible as he punched a speed-dial number with his thumb.
Gray's phone rang. "Lake?" she answered.
"Don't talk too loudly," Lake said in a whisper. "And when you come down here, walk slowly and quietly." He closed his phone and remained still.
Gray and Cornealius exchanged worried glances.
"If 'Test Tube' is speechless, then we're talkin' about a lot of 'plasm," Cornealius said.
"Should we clear the area?" Gray asked.
Cornealius looked back at the crowds. "Impossible with this many people," he said. "Not without causing a panic. We can always bring in a sweeper team without too much fuss. In the meantime, let's go see what we're up against."
Calmly but purposefully they began marching up the breezeway. Lake maintained his pose, not even so much as glancing their way.
As he walked, Cornealius calmly slipped the retaining strap from the butt of the Ghoo gun in his holster.
"Stop that kid!"
The call came from behind Gray and Cornealius. They turned to see two policemen pushing their way from the leading edge of the crowd like dark-blue jelly from an overstuffed sandwich. They almost didn't see the target of their pursuit until he was right under their noses, so fast was he running. He was a boy of about twelve or thirteen, tall for his age, unkempt brown hair down to his shoulders. Slender and athletic, he wore a brownish T-shirt that was probably white at one time, faded-and-torn jeans and fancy running shoes that were dirty but otherwise in surprisingly good shape. He carried a cloth-wrapped bundle under one arm.
Before they could react, he pushed between them, knocking them momentarily off-balance, and sped toward the entrance to the parking garage, where Lake remained in his statue-like pose.
Lake was startled as the young blur whizzed past him and into the garage.
"Hey, kid, stop!" Lake yelled. "There's 'plasm all over the place in there!" The kid didn't even pause. Lake was flabbergasted. Certainly the youngster saw the mounds of malectoplasm rising throughout the garage, dripping from cars and oozing along walls and oil-stained pavement. Some of the 'plasm mounds already were pulsating and wiggling, in the initial stages of human sensation. In other words, they were ready to become Ghouls at just the briefest pass of a human catalyst.
But the boy had no intention of stopping. In fact, he made no attempt even to evade the 'plasm mounds.
Lake was joined by Cornealius and Gray and the two policemen. All had Ghoo guns drawn. Lake reached for his.
"Should we go after him?" Gray said.
"Be my guest," said one of the policemen.
Just then Lake and Cornealius noticed the same thing at the same time.
"Brainiac," Cornealius said to Lake. "Am I seeing this?"
Lake was too stunned to answer at first. Finally he said, "Yes we are, C."
Gray said, "See what?"
"Look," Lake said. "The 'plasm. It's not triggering."
"There should be at least ten Ghouls in there right now," Cornealius said. "He hasn't created a single one."
"It's not reacting to him," Gray said.
"He knows he's immune," Lake said, suppressing a grin of admiration. "That's why he's such a daring thief."
"And maybe it's just bum 'plasm," one of the policemen said, holstering his Ghoo gun and drawing his service revolver. "You can stay here and watch, but I’m going to grab him before he gets away." He sprinted into the garage.
The others screamed for the officer to stop.
"Louie, get back here, you idiot!" his partner yelled.
"You won't make it!" Lake said.
Ghoo gun raised, Cornealius followed the cop to provide cover. Lake, Gray and the other cop followed.
The pursuing cop followed the same path as the boy, but as he neared the first mound of pulsing malectoplasm it reacted with a sudden jolt, instantly rising and forming a Ghoul that hissed its bone-chilling scream and slashed at the policeman with a massive green claw. The Ghoul’s sharp fingers dug into the policeman’s torso and scooped him from the floor, flinging him across the garage. The cop screamed with pain and fright as he flew through the air, landing with a sliding thud next to another car ... and another mass of 'plasm. A Ghoul formed rapidly from the second mass and reached down to the fallen man.
Cornealius blasted away at the second Ghoul while the others destroyed the first. The Ghoul hunter needed but two shots to explode the monster into a mass of ghoulash that fell atop the fallen policeman.
Cornealius began to lift the cop.
"Help me get him out of here!" he yelled. "These other mounds are about to form!"
Cornealius, Gray and the other cop dragged the man from the garage floor while Lake held back the two other Ghouls that had formed.
Back onto the sidewalk outside the garage, Gray tended to the injured man's wounds while Cornealius called for an ambulance and a sweeper team.
Cornealius pocketed his phone and grabbed the shoulder of the unwounded policemen, kneeling over his fallen partner.
"Get on the horn and pass word on the other cops in the area to keep things calm. We’re going to bring in a sweeper team as quietly as possible." The cop complied.
Cornealius approached Lake, who was staring back into the garage, after the escaped boy.
"How did that kid do that?" Cornealius asked. "How did he keep the Ghouls from forming?"
"I don't know," said Lake, obviously still stunned from what he witnessed. "But however he did it, whatever it is, it changes everything."