The Resurrection of Booger Mapes

By John D. Ferguson

...For the umpteenth time this morning, the thin man with wary eyes
pours another cup of coffee and returns to his seat at the dinette table. He
performs the task for something to do, just like the sip he takes from the
cup, more for action than thirst. There is nothing unfamiliar about, but
he studies the air before his face with intensity. His gaze moves from the
checkered oilskin tablecloth to the pale light of the only kitchen window and
back again. Through a deep mental fog he sees neither. He is lost in thought.
The thump of frying pan on the stove top makes him jump. Rina has
come into the kitchen without him even noticing, and is now bustling
about the kitchen doing cooking things with a familiar ease and her
peculiar habit of humming to herself when pleasantly occupied. Her back
is straight, hips full and fi rm, and buttocks tightly packed into the confi nes
of denim jeans. With the unnerving second sense of some women, she
glances over her shoulder with a knowing smile...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 4, 2009
• ISBN: 9781462824335

John D. Ferguson

A child of Appalachia, I grew up in the tough embrace of the rugged backwoods of West Virginia. Desperate to learn of the larger world, I left immediately after high school. However, the love of the hills never left me. Though I seldom go back, I do journey there now and again, mainly through the eyes of my fictional characters. The world is bigger than I knew, yet smaller than I ever dreamed. My current residence is California, but my home is wherever my beloved wife Jo happens to be. Cover photo taken by Jo Ann Ferguson

Book preview

Prologue

For the umpteenth time this morning, the thin man with wary eyes pours another cup of coffee and returns to his seat at the dinette table. He performs the task for something to do, just like the sip he takes from the cup, more for action than thirst. There is nothing unfamiliar about, but he studies the air before his face with intensity. His gaze moves from the checkered oilskin tablecloth to the pale light of the only kitchen window and back again. Through a deep mental fog he sees neither. He is lost in thought.

The thump of frying pan on the stove top makes him jump. Rina has come into the kitchen without him even noticing, and is now bustling about the kitchen doing cooking things with a familiar ease and her peculiar habit of humming to herself when pleasantly occupied. Her back is straight, hips full and firm, and buttocks tightly packed into the confines of denim jeans. With the unnerving second sense of some women, she glances over her shoulder with a knowing smile.

You like? she asks while wiggling her hips, mashing out sausage patties between her palms, and dropping them into a skillet.

Dini has to laugh in spite of his mood. Yes, I like, you willful woman. You had your way with me last night and now tempt me again this morning. Is there no shame in women today? What would your dear mother say if she could see you now? he cajoles with false reproach.

Ha. Mother would have told me to get the goods while I can. And she would have also told you that a man that gets loving and sausage from the same woman had better not complain. Rina tosses her dark hair and sticks her tongue out between smiling lips, then laughs along with her husband, and turns back to the stove.

The mood in the room has lifted considerably with Rina’s entrance as it always seems to do. Dini resigns himself to enjoying the meal and the company and rises to assist where he can. Far be it for me to dispute so wise and reputable a woman. Besides, your mother always liked me. She was a person of refined, good taste, so I will not doubt her word.

Hmmm, yes. I was lucky Father was still around when I met you, or Mother would have had you for herself, Rina laughs.

"Pasarica, you know you are the only one for me. Dini snuggles her from behind and wraps long arms around her waist. As he kisses her neck, he speaks softly, Can the sausage wait? We have some dark yet in which to play?" Even as the words leave his lips and he folds his lanky frame against Rina’s backside, the familiar tingle warms his groin, and he knows he is not teasing.

Rina knows too. She answers by turning off the stove eye and smiling into his kiss.

* * *

Colonel Vadas Dezso has been up for hours. He never sleeps much anyway, but lately his nights have been short even for him. Standing in the cold dark, he breathes deeply. The frigid dry air is invigorating and quickens his pulse like a shot of vodka. Dezso savors the taste. The plain off to the east shows a sliver of silver between earth and sky. Dawn is maybe an hour away. To the west all is black as tar; the sky is but a wooly blanket on the surrounding hills. He has time still, but he has to hurry. He notices the light in the farmhouse kitchen window as he crosses the concrete drive that forms the cul-de-sac surrounded by house, barn, and laboratory. Unconsciously, he keeps a visual surveillance on the farmhouse and yard as he unlocks the metal door to the lab and quietly passes through into the silence.

Pitch blackness greets him on the inside but does not slow his movements. With an easy grace borne of training and an uncanny ability to see better than normal in the absence of light, he crosses the vestibule to elevator doors. He pays no attention to the room to his right and beyond, knowing instinctively that it is empty. He passes the two lower levels and from the elevator steps out into a large room dimly illuminated with the faint glow of blues and greens from small bulbs in odd places. Pinpoints of yellows and reds mark positions of operating and monitoring equipment that are never turned off. The air is dry and cool too but carries the bitter tang of disinfectant and purifiers. There is a persistent hum that fills the room. Soft yet evident, it seems to emanate from the very walls. It gives reassurance to all who enter that the protective security measures are operating, and all is safe within.

In swift strides the short, thin man crosses the room, weaving around tables and desks, and enters a glass-fronted office midway of the room on the right side. He glances without any real need at the airlock double doors twenty feet away, then moves quickly behind the metal desk to padlocked file cabinets. Without preamble, he starts trying keys.

* * *

Dini lies on his back with one hand behind his head. He can feel Rina’s deep green eyes studying his features as she lies very still beside him. The sex has been as wonderful as always, and in his sated, satisfied state he should only have thoughts of this marvel that shares his bed and life, but the worry has stolen back into the fore of his mind. He feels cheated in not being able to share this special moment as he always does with Rina, in soft small talk and verbal caresses. Struggling to clear his mind, he turns toward her, determined to enjoy this time together in spite of his worried state of mind.

Rina is too quick by half, and before he can roll to his side, she asks in a quiet and smoky voice, "Dini, scumpul meu? Can you tell me now what has had you so distracted of late? Do you not trust your pasarica anymore? Please, Dini, what is the trouble I see behind your eyes?"

He does roll to his side now and looks into the soft green pools of her eyes, those same eyes that he has turned to again and again in the past to share both good and bad. I am not worthy of this woman. I never have been, but I will never stop trying to be. God, give me strength. He knows the time has come to level with her and, as in many times in the past, seek her comfort, her counsel, and her help. Besides, if he fails to protect her if trouble comes, she must be able to identify danger in order to protect herself.

Get dressed and come to the kitchen, he says decisively as he rolls off his side of the bed and reaches quickly for discarded clothing. In no time both are dressed, and Dini leads the way toward the lighted kitchen down the hallway. After pouring each fresh cups of coffee, Dini takes his accustomed seat across from his wife and speaks of troubles.

Our world is changing, Rina. What we have always wanted to happen will. Over the next few years, our part of this earth is going to rejoin the world in peace and freedom. Freedom, Rina! Think of it! Dini takes a sip of coffee; his troubled eyes suddenly fixed on faraway horizons of dreams. He lowers his cup and leans toward her, peering intently into her face. Caesar has been telling me, little by little, when we speak. Everything we have seen and heard over the last months is true. The world has been going through a transformation. We ourselves have discussed this over and over as things have happened. We knew that life was getting better for many peoples, and yet, we never thought we would get caught up in it, did we? But we have. Dini’s eyes blaze with a pale fire as if a fever has seized him and is consuming him from inside.

Rina raises her hands to cover her open mouth and stares over her fingertips into the burning eyes across the table. She does want to believe, but the dream has been going on for so long. Could it really be true? Tell me, Dini. Tell me!

They fall closer together, like conspirators planning anarchy. Dini is feeling too pleased to contain it, but fears that he is ultimately wrong or misled or deceived and so seeks affirmation in the telling and in Rina’s eyes. Since we have been here, look at all that has occurred. He counts points on his fingers. Gorbachev is in power and leading Russia into reforms. Capitalism is allowed on a limited basis. Stalin denounced! Perestroika offered to the world instead of communism. Regan visits in Russia. Polish workers struck, Rina, and Poland gained autonomy with Lech Walesa in control. There are riots in Montenegro, Yugoslavia, and Latvia. Estonia is a republic! Czechoslovakia is up in arms. Lithuania declared independence. The East German wall came down. The wall fell, and the whole world heard the crash! Fighting for air, his chest heaves in emotion.

Dini rises from the table, agitated, and strides the width of the kitchen. He stares at the floor as he paces and works his hands in agitated maneuvers from his belt to head to neck. He seems to be searching for words in various parts of his body. When he finds them, he is almost afraid to say them out loud. And now, Rina, now it is our turn. We have lived to see the whole of the Eastern Block, and Soviet Union come crashing down carrying all the red stars with it. It is our turn, Rina. We could be free people by the end of this year. With that statement, he stops his pacing and stares at his lovely passion seated before him. Rina still has her hands over her mouth, but now the eyes above her fingertips are smiling beams of joy.

With a single movement, Rina leaves her chair and flings herself into Dini’s arms. Laughing in uncontrollable happiness she gasps, Is it true? Really true? The butcher is out, is finished? Ceausescu is no more? Oh, Dini, please tell me it is true. Rina feels like dancing and tries to move her partner into an impromptu waltz.

Dini laughs in spite of himself. No, do not go celebrating just yet. But Caesar said the people are in revolt. Can you believe that? Our people are in revolt to free themselves from the devil. My heart is too big for my body, I am so proud.

But, Dini, how long have you known this, and why did you not share it with me? This is great news, Rina laughs to the ceiling as she twirls across the linoleum. She stops her dance when Dini does not answer and turns back to him.

The worry is back in his eyes. It makes dark hollows of his sockets. Dini clenches his teeth and his jaws lock with determination. I have known only since last night but suspected something could happen for much longer. We are so isolated here. God knows this seems the end of the world for us. If it was not for Caesar and his telephone messages . . . , Dini’s voice falters at the hint of consternation in Rina’s dark eyes. Resignedly he continues. Ever since Colonel Vadas showed his ugly face here, I have been troubled.

Rina listened and knows that what he says is true. Now that it is said, she can reckon the timeline in her mind. Dini’s worried features took hold right after Vadas arrived. Why? Tell me what Vadas has to do with the liberation of Romania, or with us for that matter. Rina stands defiantly, hands on hips, awaiting an answer.

He has nothing to do with it, Rina. I think he is here just in case it happens. I think he is someone’s insurance. He sees his words reflected in Rina’s face.

* * *

Working at the control station, Colonel Vadas moves nimble fingers over the keyboard, searching files and retrieving information which he stores on floppy disks. He has a growing stack beside the keyboard on the terminal table. He knows exactly what he wants: practical molecular modifications, biological carriers, chemically engineered life-extension systems, stealth delivery methods, raw data test results. Attentive ebony eyes quickly scan menus and submenus then occasionally flick to the clock on the opposite wall. Time is running out.

He had been briefed extensively, of course, before ever arriving. And with the credentials he carries, all doors opened. It was easy getting his nose into places most could not. It had taken only a few weeks to uncover the necessary access codes for the encrypted computer files and determine what are needed to be done to ensure this bit of history stays buried. He has been waiting to strike for the most opportune moment, and now that moment is here. His message to move arrived last night, and he put his plan into action immediately. All traces of his being here and the true nature of this operation will soon disappear.

* * *

Rina is lost in thought, head slightly bowed and thin finger poised against grim lips. You know, Dini, I just could not allow myself to believe the infrequent news stories from the papers or the television. And we have not been home for—oh god—has it been three years? We have just gotten so comfortable with this place, and our work takes so much time . . . Rina pauses speaking and tries to understand what she is feeling. Her world is crumbling under her feet. All the political upheavals going on in Eastern Europe has seemed far removed from her niche of science, work, and love. What has seemed a world apart from all others for so long has just been revealed a fantasy of her and Dini’s making. She now fully realizes that with the blessed liberation of Romania comes the dissolution of this outpost of research and their segregated, quiet world.

Dini finishes buttoning his long coat and stands at the door with gloves in hand and watches the changing feelings Rina experiences move her facial features through a gamut of expressions. You have to be the worst liar I have ever met, Dini laughs to lighten the mood. Your face is like a street sign, always giving the direction your devious mind is moving toward.

Dini, this is the end of this, isn’t it? Rina holds her hands up in the air like she is carrying a plate of pasta in each and waits.

He comes to her side and looks tenderly into her face. Yes. If not today, then tomorrow or the next, but soon anyway you look at it. I am going to tell the team that all work is suspended, then seal the lab, and prepare for extreme Decon and Demob. I want to review our procedures to make sure we do not miss anything. We still have a week’s worth of work to shut this operation down, and I do not want accidents happening or data going missing. I’ll need you to handle hot areas, with maybe Enric to help. The look in Rina’s face brings all talk to a stop. He stares for an embarrassed moment as he realizes too late what is really troubling her.

Not this work, Dini! God, I could care less if all the work accomplished and data stored here went up in smoke and mankind forgot all about this shit! Rina spits the words into the room with uncontrolled venom. I hate what we do, Dini, as do you. If Ceausescu is sent to hell, then all this can go with him and more praise to God if both happen. Then, in a softer tone, she speaks as she grasps Dini’s coat sleeves, No, Dini, I mean this ends: this little house, our constantly being together, our control of our lives, our peace. All this ends, and we have to go back to the real world. With resignation, Rina looks about the faded but snug little kitchen.

He looks about too and understands. He feels the same way. But since learning of the possibility, he had worried the potential problems so much and from so many directions that he develops a resolve that their future would not be mired in the past and would be bright with promise and hope. Yes, this ends, Rina, but along with it ends the potential that some of our nasty progress could end up being used against our own people or hell, anyone for that matter. I know we said that we would never allow that to happen; that we would blow it to heaven along with ourselves before we saw it used, but it was always a possibility. We do not have that worry anymore. We will destroy everything, and when the hoped-for day comes, we will all go home to a better world than we left and build this all anew there. We will build this simple life there, Rina. I promise, and with none of this other to contend. You can spend all your days creating wonderful, miraculous cures for the world’s ills, and I can spend all my days adoring you. That’s a promise I make and a promise I’ll keep. Dini kisses her on the nose just above her tentative yet blossoming smile. And if Ceausescu and his henchmen are truly gone, you never have to fear for the lives of your parents, again. They can live what time is left them without a dark cloud always on the horizon, Dini pulls her to him and speaks into her soft hair. We will see them as soon as we get back to Brasov and will stay with them as long as you like. How long has it been, Rina? Dini asks with sudden confusion. It seems a very long time.

"Too long, iubita meu. Much too long. Then becoming more thoughtful, she speaks with her mind far in the past, Since the English school in Kiev I think. Many years and many miles away, Dini. Too many ever to recoup the loss."

But we will try nonetheless. Will we not, pasarica? Can we not try? Dini asks each question accompanied with an increased squeeze and playful shake. Huh, we can try, no?

You’re right, of course. She smiles brightly now. You’re always right when it comes to us. Let us close this place, Dini. Make it so clean that when we leave no one will ever know we were here, and we leave all this behind and go home without ever looking back. There will be lots of work to be done there, and our people need us. Go on to the others and get things started. Rina physically turns Dini toward the door and pushes him easily in that direction. I will meet you in the lab. If I get there before you, I’ll be suited up and inside Containment III. Go! she says with a final push. As Dini exits the door, Rina feels the blast of frigid air the door fans into the room. She shivers as she stands there watching Dini’s receding back as he crosses the yard toward the lab building and the housing units beyond. She slowly closes the door and turns back into the room as another harsher shudder grips her. Vadas is someone’s insurance. Dini had said that, and Rina knows it is true. If Dini knows what is going on, then so does Vadas; and if we have plans to initiate, then Vadas does also. Rina grabs her coat and keys and rushes into the growing dawn.

* * *

Everything was done. His sharp black eyes scan the room while he mentally ticks off items of accomplishment. Colonel Vadas Dezso is nothing if not thorough. In his right hand he carries a small silver metal attaché with combination locks. All the information he needs is inside. Thermal bombs are strategically placed to do the most effective damage, and the resultant firestorm should accomplish the rest. Satisfied with his work, he turns from the long room toward the elevator. Once topside, he will make quick work of the detonation and be gone. If he meets anyone about while retrieving his vehicle and they became confrontational, he will dissuade them by whatever means are necessary. Vadas does not relish violence or wet work like some of his colleagues but is very proficient at it when required. But there is no need for anyone to get hurt. That is not why he is here. And once he is gone, this place would be forever sealed and the people involved reassigned. He doubts any trouble, regardless.

Before his thin finger touches the elevator keypad, a ding sounds, and the doors start to part. He had been so lost in thought he had not noticed the lit directional button. Too early to start the day! He takes a step back and places his hand in his coat pocket, and his fingers grip the familiar butt of a Makarov SMC-918. The blue-tinted automatic has been his only trusted companion in more tight spots than he cares to remember. The doors slide silently open. He smiles slightly in relief when he looks into the stern but lovely countenance of Dr. Ecaterina Irini Antonescu.

Though relieved, his smile quickly fades as he stares into the hard glint of her eyes. With an off-hand ease, he remains in place and speaks quietly, Good morning, Doctor. Starting the day a little earlier than usual I see. I am glad I caught you before you suited up or got involved in one of your experiments. I have something very important to discuss with you and the others. Could you accompany me back topside, and we can catch everyone at breakfast, most probably, and I can handle this business with the one telling? As the colonel speaks, he moves to one side as to pass, then gently but firmly grasps Rina’s slim arm to turn her back into the elevator.

Not fooled, Rina sidesteps and with a small maneuver is past Colonel Vadas, and their positions are reversed. What are you doing here, Vadas, and how did you get in this area? What are you up to, with this sneaking around? Rina, without waiting for an answer, slowly backs into the room. Her senses fully on alert, she looks in quick appraisal from one side to the other, taking in the expected order in search of any oddity. Vadas moves along with her, keeping the distance between them the same.

Look, my dear Doctor, you are behaving most strangely. Are you feeling all right? Vadas takes several quick steps forward and extends his free arm toward her. Please, Doctor, come with me. We have much to discuss.

Rina continues her backward movement down the dimly lit glass-walled room and then stops in surprise when she reaches her husband’s office. The light from the computer screen illuminates the disheveled room. File discs, manila folders, and papers are scattered across the desktop and floor. Rows of previously locked fireproof file drawers stand open into the room to varying depths. Prominently placed beside the computer is a black metallic oval disc with a small number pad and a blinking red light. Fear leaps from Rina’s bowels into her throat and strangles from her a meager and almost inaudible wha . . . ? With her slight form suddenly suffused with adrenalin, she spins in concert with her whirling mind to stare at the thick leaded glass doors of Containment III. Everything beyond looks as it should and undisturbed. Then her eyes focus again on the doors, and the dark fine hairs on the back of her neck rise in abject terror. Two of the black oval devices are attached by suction holders to the doors. Their red lights add a sinister aspect to the view, like looking at two floating eyes in the dimness. She starts to turn just as Vadas grabs her from behind, and with force his slim physique belies, manhandles her toward the elevator.

What in God’s name are you doing? Rina screams. Are those bombs? Holy Mother, Vadas! Do you know what you are doing? Please, I beg you, stop this madness. Rina tries to struggle, but with a final thrust Vadas flings her, stumbling, into the elevator car. A raised finger in her face admonishes her to silence; he turns to the outside control panel and, with a tool seemingly produced from nowhere, removes the panel cover and disconnects the outer doors into the room. Satisfied, he quickly steps inside and pushes the button to ascend.

The elevator doors close on silence. The two passengers, now obvious adversaries, eye each other without restraint. Rina guesses at what is under way and knows her time is very limited to come to grips with it and stop its inevitability, if at all possible. Her voice is calm, showing none of her underlying terror. Colonel, I do not know who you are working for, but I seriously doubt that it is Ceausescu or any of the other Eastern Bloc leaders. They may have been the political front for this abomination and the money behind it, but something or someone else really pulls the strings. Is that not so, Colonel? You are working in secret for someone else? Rina knows the truth as soon as she voices the words. And now what? With the political landscape in convulsions, all this has to disappear. Everything goes up in smoke, doesn’t it, Colonel? Everything except what you carry in that briefcase. Everything including us. The last statement is said with contempt and an extremely hard edge.

Before Vadas can answer, the doors open to the ground floor. He steps out first and blocks Rina’s exit. He inflicts the same procedure on the topside doors, then disables the elevator, and bows in mock courtesy as he offers Rina her exit. In response to an impulse that surprises Rina as much as Vadas, the diminutive woman drives shoulder first into his chest, knocking Vadas from the car and sprawling across the floor. His briefcase hits the opposite block wall with a clang, hinges spring open, and the contents litter the floor. In a flash, Rina jumps toward the exit door. Halfway there, she hears the lock being turned; then too late to stop, she slides the final distance on her knees and into the opening door.

* * *

It has taken longer than he expected to explain everything to the scientists and techs, but he has them working now in preparation for packing up and moving out. He has looked for Colonel Vadas but to no avail. A check of his car on the way from the housing unit revealed his suitcase in the backseat. That fact has the back of Dini’s mind buzzing with worry. He keeps his mind on the job at hand and proceeds to the barn and stock workers’ quarters when an errant thought pulls him to the laboratory. I will just check on Rina and then back to business. He steps inside just as something slams into the door from the opposite side. Half in and half out, Dini thrusts his head through the doorway and peers around the door at the obstruction. The shock on his face quickly turns to anger as he takes in the scene. He steps through and shuts the door behind him.

Helping Rina to her feet, he asks through clenched teeth, What in hell’s name is going on here? He looks at Vadas, now calmly standing with his hand in his coat pocket regarding the two with hard eyes. Vadas does not speak, but Rina answers in a rush. Dini looks at her frantic face and tries to make sense of what she is yelling at him. Bombs? Firestorm? Theft? What? When it finally sinks in, Dini steels himself for what is to come. With one hand he reaches stealthily behind and grasps the door handle. His face never leaves Rina’s. He quiets her with the look in his eyes, then speaks under his breath until she understands; when he opens the door, they are both to run. Rina grimly smiles and almost imperceptibly nods her understanding.

The gun’s discharge sounds like an explosion within the confines of the block-walled atrium. A nine-millimeter round punches a neat hole in Dini’s left check, then proceeds, without being slowed by shattered teeth and palate, out the other side of his face with much of his right cheek bone. The concussion of the impact is marked by the quick flick of his head, like a man taking an unexpected slap. Rina jumps at the sound and turns instinctively toward its source. Only when she looks back at Dini does she realize he is shot in the face. The parts still intact are ghost white under the blood and tissue flecks. Dini is taking a distinct lilt to the right even as his mouth tries to form words, and his eyes, rolling in their sockets, are white with shock. In total disbelief, Rina watches his life slide from her grip and impact the floor with a dull thud.

Disbelief turns to burning anger. Every fiber of her body suddenly burns with raging energy and the need to rend flesh. Before she can fully understand what has happened to Dini or what she is about to do, she charges across the short distance to Vadas like a flash of fire. Rina leaps the last few feet, fingers and nails extended like a jungle cat bringing down prey. With a scream of hate, she slams into the armed killer and, by her forward force, bears him into the wall behind. Nails and teeth find their mark. She seeks in wild abandon and frenzied strength to utterly destroy this object of hate. She is beyond reason and beyond control. Her nails are drawing rivulets of warm blood from the face of Colonel Vadas when all activity ceases—instantly—as the big automatic roars once more.

A look of wonder replaces the rage that an instant ago had suffused Rina’s lovely face. Then sorrow and hopelessness take their turns. She collapses into a heap at Vadas’s feet, leaning against his legs. He moves slightly, and she crumples past him onto the floor. He does not spare her a moment of pity. Time was too precious. He has already lost much of his schedule due to this unfortunate and uncalled-for interruption. No one needed to die! I could have blown the lab and been gone by now. If only . . .

He stops that train of thought. It is useless and unproductive. In no time he has the contents back in his briefcase, is out the door, and after checking that all is quiet sprints to his car. He starts the big engine without revving the motor, and as it idles to warm up, he busies himself in removing a control mechanism from its case and arming the system. With a few punched numbers, the bombs in place below are set to detonate. He pulls from the lot and onto the long drive that will take him to the main gate and the road to town. Cresting a knoll about a half mile from the facility, he pulls to the side of the road.

Vadas extracts a handkerchief from a breast pocket and absentmindedly wipes blood from his face. No one had to die. Though he will not let himself admit it, he liked the good doctor and her husband and regrets the deaths. But now that they are dead; at least their deaths can be explained away by the fire he is poised to set. There should be no questions after this. Looking in the rearview mirror at the cluster of buildings behind, he gently toggles a switch and depresses a button on the devise. After a fraction of time, an intense roil of flame belches from the blown entrance door to the laboratory. He feels no tremor but then hears a sound of the distant blast. Job complete. Putting his car in gear and his mind to other matters, he crests the hill and drives out of sight.

* * *

Dini is not sure what has happened, is not sure why his head aches as it does, or why he is now bent over the dying form of his beloved pasarica. The fact that they are outside the lab building, which is now a raging inferno, he understands. Rina lies on the cold ground as Dini crouches over her, trying to stanch the flow of blood from a nasty belly wound. Dini tries to shake his head to clear the cobwebs nestled there, but the pain stops him quickly. He grasps enough from the mental grayness that he must focus all his efforts on staying awake to help Rina survive. As from far away he can hear dim shouts behind him and knows that others are about and trying to stop the spreading fire, which has now ignited the barn and storage shed from airborne sparks. He also knows they cannot see him where he has awakened with Rina beneath him, away from the structures and to the side of a steep creek bank that borders the facility. He tries again to clear his head and get a grasp on what to do. Dini raises his face to the still dark sky in soul-wrenching frustration, and tears course from his one good eye. It starts to snow, and tiny dry flakes oddly sting as they encounter the raw flesh of his face. He looks back at his only reason for living and is stabbed by the hopelessness of their situation.

Rina opens her eyes. They are vacant and faraway; then slowly reason and clarity return. She looks at the freakish form above her, and it takes a moment to realize that it is her Dini, still alive when he should be dead. Just as she is alive! That realization accompanies an undeniable truth—the same truth that she did not have time or circumstance to relate to Vadas before, the truth that he has killed them nonetheless. He has killed them all through his own ignorance. She can sense the fire raging from the lab and several other buildings. The cold morning is hued in yellows and reds from dancing flames. She knows that little time remains. There is no chance for her to survive, but there might be for the man she