“We did.” It sounds like one man speaking, though his voice comes from multiple directions.
“You wanted us to come here,” River says.
“It was you who wanted to come here, and we assumed you had a reason. Things used to happen for a reason.”
“They still do,” Buck says. “What’s the reason for what happened here?”
“The end of the world, of course. We feared it for months, and when it finally happened on a Tuesday morning, we quickly lost all contact with the outside world. Some of us stayed here because of the underground bunker, but some chose to return to their homes.”
“A bomb fell not far from here,” Timothy says.
“It did. Some of the bombs were biological weapons that were meant to spread and kill whoever survived the impact. The one that hit south of here was one of those.”
“Did it get mixed with whatever you were developing here?” Timothy asks.
“Eventually, yes. We developed a new type of bacteria—a single-celled organism that could reproduce on its own, resulting in the creation of pure energy. When the bomb fell, the bacteria had just enough intelligence to sense the danger. It reproduced faster than we ever imagined possible. Within minutes, it flowed throughout the facility and engulfed everyone in its path.”
“To protect you,” Timothy says.
“Yes. To protect its makers.”
“Everyone who was here is now inside this thing?” Josh asks.
“No. In time, some of us chose to leave, though we can’t survive long on our own. We nourish each other, a self-sufficient organism. And there were the children. Five of them were here during that day. The bacteria consumed them as well, but we protested, and they were allowed to exit before they could become one with the bacteria. We didn’t know whether they were affected in any way, but we later learned that they were, though the radiation outside must have also played a role in their condition. The children chose to leave in search of a new home. Four died on the journey, but one remains.”
“Was that child named Hector?” I ask.
“No. His name was Paul. His father brought him here on that day because of the bunker. Paul’s mother died when he was a baby. Years after he left us with the rest of the children, hisfather left as well to search for him, but he did not survive the journey. Please, stay back.”
The shape of the man becomes clearer, as if he’s coming closer to the surface of the substance. I almost fall back when he emerges, still covered in the yellow liquid. He doesn’t have clear features, but he’s no longer connected to the rest, at least not physically.
He walks toward the entrance, and we follow him at a safe distance. His walk is clumsy, as if he’s slowly remembering how to move his legs.
“We loved having the children here,” he says, his voice now coming from a single source. “We had a playroom for them while their parents were working. Paul was their unofficial leader, even though he was younger than the rest. He had a temper, but he was also charming and intelligent. Is it impolite to call a child cunning?”
“If he grows up to be a murderous psychopath, it’s fine,” Josh says.
The man stops next to one of the rooms and gestures for us to enter. We step into what seems like a playroom with old toys and a dusty television. There are posters of cartoons on the walls, but I can’t tell if they were from television shows or from books. Maybe both. I go over to the bookstand at the side of the room and scan the books, stopping when I find one with stories about Greek mythology. We have similar books in Unity, and now I remember why the name Hector sounded familiar.
“Is this where he picked up his name?” I ask, holding up the book.
“Yes. This was Paul’s favorite story. He loved Hector’s bravery, despite his tragic ending.”
“What was in there?” River asks, pointing at a glass cage with little rocks inside.
“They had lizards as pets. Paul was their keeper.”
The dots connect in my head, but there are still gaps between the child Paul and the cruel man who now rules over Denver.
“Did Hector send the lizard men here?” I ask.
“They arrived a few years ago and tried to attack, but we can be deadly. Now they roam at a safe distance and keep visitors away, though people rarely try to come here.”
“Why would Hector want to attack you?” Josh asks as he looks at a poster of a smiling mouse with white gloves.
“We have tried to ask Paul through our faint connection with him, but he refused to speak with us. Perhaps he views us as a threat. We are the last link to his past after all.”
“We need to take him down,” Josh says, facing the man in the yellow substance. “He holds our friend captive, and he’s planning something that will likely get many people killed.”
