Chromosome 6

CHAPTER 9

MARCH 5, 1997

5:45 P.M.

COGO, EQUATORIAL GUINEA

“HELLO!” Candace’s voice called out. “Anybody home?”

Kevin’s hand flinched at the unexpected noise. The lab techs had long since left for the day, and the laboratory had been silent save for the low hum of the refrigeration units. Kevin had stayed to run another southern blot analysis to separate DNA fragments, but at the sound of Candace’s voice, he’d missed one of the wells with the micropipette. The fluid had run out over the surface of the gel. The test was ruined; he’d have to start again.

“Over here!” Kevin yelled. He put down the pipette and stood up. Through the reagent bottles atop the lab bench, he could see Candace across the room, standing in the doorway.

“Am I coming at a bad time?” Candace asked as she approached.

“No, I was just finishing up,” Kevin said. He hoped he wasn’t being too transparent.

Although he was frustrated about the wasted time he’d spent on the procedure, Kevin was pleased to see Candace. During lunch that day, he’d worked up the courage to invite Candace and Melanie to his house for tea. Both had accepted with alacrity. Melanie had admitted that she’d always been curious to see what the house looked like on the inside.

The afternoon had been a big success. Undoubtedly, the key ingredient for the afternoon’s success was the personalities of the two ladies. There was never a pause in the conversation. Another contributing factor had been the wine that they’d all decided upon instead of tea. As a member of the Zone’s elite, Kevin was given a regular allotment of French wine which he rarely drank. Consequently, he had an impressive cellar.

The major topic of conversation had been the U.S., a favorite pastime for temporary American expatriates. Each of the three had extolled and argued the virtues of their hometown. Melanie loved New York and contended it was in a class all its own; Candace said that Pittsburgh’s quality of life was rated one of the highest; and Kevin praised the intellectual stimulation of Boston. What they had purposefully avoided discussing was Kevin’s emotional outburst at the commissary during lunch.

At the time, both Candace and Melanie questioned what he’d meant by being terrified of overstepping the bounds. But they didn’t persist when it became clear that Kevin was overly upset and reluctant to explain. Intuitively, the women had decided it best to change the subject, at least for the time.

“I’ve come to see if I can drag you over to meet Mr. Horace Winchester,” Candace said. “I told him about you, and he’d like to thank you in person.”

“I don’t know if that is a good idea,” Kevin said. He could feel himself tense.

“On the contrary,” Candace said. “After what you said at lunch, I think you should see the good side of what you have been able to accomplish. I’m sorry that what I said made you feel so terrible.”

Candace’s remark was the first reference to Kevin’s lunch outburst since its occurrence. Kevin’s pulse quickened.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “I’d been upset before your comments.”

“Then come meet Horace,” Candace said. “His recovery is fantastic. He’s doing so well, in fact, that an intensive-care nurse like me is just about unnecessary.”

“I wouldn’t know what to say,” Kevin mumbled.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter what you say,” Candace said. “The man is so thankful. Just a few days ago, he was so sick he thought he was going to die. Now he feels like he’s been given a new lease on life. Come on! It can’t help but make you feel good.”

Kevin struggled to think up a reason not to go and then was saved by another voice. It was Melanie.

“Ah, my two favorite drinking buddies,” Melanie said coming into the room. She’d caught sight of Candace and Kevin through the open door. She’d been on her way to her own lab down the hall. She was dressed in blue coveralls which had animal center embroidered on the breast pocket.

“Are either of you guys hungover?” Melanie asked. “I’ve still got a little buzz. God, we went through two bottles of wine. Can you believe it?”

Neither Candace or Kevin responded.

Melanie looked back and forth between their faces. She sensed something was wrong.

“What is this-a wake?” she asked.

Candace smiled. She loved Melanie’s outspoken irreverence. “Hardly,” Candace said. “Kevin and I are at a standoff. I was just trying to talk him into going over to the hospital to meet Mr. Winchester. He’s already out of bed and feeling chipper. I told him about you guys, and he’d like to meet both of you.”

“I hear he owns a string of resort hotels,” Melanie said with a wink. “Hey, maybe we can finagle some vouchers for complimentary drinks.”

“As appreciative and as wealthy as he is, you could very well do better than that,” Candace said. “The problem is that Kevin doesn’t want to go.”

“How come, sport?” Melanie asked.

“I thought it would be a good idea for him to see the good side of what he’s been able to accomplish,” Candace added.

Candace caught Melanie’s eye. Melanie understood Candace’s motivations immediately.

“Yeah,” Melanie said. “Let’s get some positive feedback from a real, live patient. That should justify all this hard work and give us a boost.”

“I think it will make me feel worse,” Kevin said. Ever since getting back to the lab, he’d been trying to concentrate on basic research to avoid facing his fears. The ploy had worked to an extent until his curiosity made him call up the Isla Francesca graphic on his computer terminal. Playing with the data had had an effect as bad as the smoke.

Melanie put her hands on her hips. “Why?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s hard to explain,” Kevin said evasively.

“Try me,” Melanie challenged.

“Because seeing him will remind me of things I’m trying not to think about,” Kevin said. “Like what happened to the other patient.”

“You mean his double, the bonobo?” Melanie asked.

Kevin nodded. His face was now flushed, almost as bad as it had been at the commissary.

“You’re taking this animal-rights issue even more seriously than I am,” Candace remarked.

“I’m afraid it goes beyond animal rights,” Kevin said.

A tense silence intervened. Melanie glanced at Candace. Candace shrugged, suggesting she was at a loss.

“Okay, enough is enough!” Melanie said with sudden resolve. She reached up, placed both hands on Kevin’s shoulders, and pushed him down onto his laboratory stool.

“Up until this afternoon I thought we were just colleagues,” she said. She leaned over and put her sharp-featured face close to Kevin’s. “But now I feel differently. I got to know you a little bit, which I must say I appreciated, and I no longer think of you as an icy, aloof, intellectual snob. In fact I think we are friends. Am I right?”

Kevin nodded. He was forced to look up into Melanie’s black, marble-like eyes.

“Friends talk to each other,” Melanie said. “They communicate. They don’t hide their feelings and make others feel uncomfortable. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“I think so,” Kevin said. He’d never considered the idea his behavior was capable of making others uncomfortable.

“Think so?” Melanie chided. “How can I explain it so that you know so!”

Kevin swallowed. “I guess I know so.”

Melanie rolled her eyes in frustration. “You are so evasive, it drives me bananas. But that’s okay; I can deal with it. What I can’t deal with is your outburst at lunch. And when I tried to ask you what’s wrong, you gave some vague comment about ‘overstepping the bounds’ and then clammed up, unable to talk about it. You can’t let this fester, whatever it is that’s bothering you. It will only hurt you and impede your friendships.”

Candace nodded agreement with all that Melanie had expressed.

Kevin looked back and forth between the two outspoken and tenacious women. As much as he resisted expressing his fears, at the moment he didn’t think he had much choice, especially with Melanie’s face inches away from his own. Not knowing how to begin he said: “I’ve seen smoke coming from Isla Francesca.”

“What’s Isla Francesca?” Candace asked.

“It’s the island where the transgenic bonobos go once they reach age three,” Melanie said. “So what’s with smoke?”

Kevin stood and motioned for the women to follow him. He walked over to his desk. With his index finger he pointed out the window toward Isla Francesca. “I’ve seen the smoke three times,” he said. “It’s always from the same place just to the left of the limestone ridge. It’s only a little curl snaking up into the sky, but it persists.”

Candace squinted. She was mildly nearsighted, but for vanity reasons didn’t wear glasses. “Is it the farthest island?” she asked. She thought she could just make out some brownish smudges on its spine that could have been rock. In the late-afternoon sunlight, the other islands in the chain appeared like homogeneous mounds of dark green moss.

“That’s the one,” Kevin said.

“So, big deal!” Melanie commented. “A couple of little fires. With all the lightning around here it’s no wonder.”

“That’s what Bertram Edwards suggested,” Kevin said. “But it can’t be lightning.”

“Who’s Bertram Edwards?” Candace asked.

“Why can’t it be lightning?” Melanie asked ignoring Candace. “Maybe there’s some metal ore in that rocky ridge.”

“Ever hear the expression lightning never strikes the same place twice?” Kevin questioned. “The fire is not from lightning. Besides, the smoke persisted and has never moved.”

“Maybe some native people live out there,” Candace said.

“GenSys was very sure that was not the case before choosing the island,” Kevin said.

“Maybe some local fishermen visit,” Candace suggested.

“All the locals know it is forbidden,” Kevin said. “Because of the new Equatoguinean law it would be a capital offense. There’s nothing out there that would be worth dying for.”

“Then who started the fires?” Candace asked.

“Good God, Kevin!” Melanie exclaimed suddenly. “I’m beginning to get an idea what you’re thinking. But let me tell you, it’s preposterous.”

“What’s preposterous?” Candace asked. “Will someone clue me in?”

“Let me show you something else,” Kevin said. He turned to his computer terminal and with a few keystrokes called up the graphic of the island. He explained the system to the women, and as a demonstration, brought up the location of Melanie’s double. The little red light blinked just north of the escarpment very close to where his own had the day before.

“You have a double?” Candace asked. She was dumbfounded.

“Kevin and I were the guinea pigs,” Melanie said. “Our doubles were the first. We had to prove that the technology really works.”

“Okay, now that you women know how the locator system operates,” Kevin said, “let me show you what I did an hour ago, and we’ll see if we get the same disturbing result.” Kevin’s fingers played over the keyboard. “What I’m doing is instructing the computer to automatically locate all seventy-three of the doubles sequentially. The creatures’ numbers will occur in the corner followed by the blinking light on the graphic. Now watch.” Kevin clicked to start.

The system worked smoothly with only a short delay between the number appearing and then the red blinking light.

“I thought there were closer to a hundred animals,” Candace said.

“There are,” Kevin said. “But twenty-two of them are less than three years old. They are in the bonobo enclosure at the animal center.”

“Okay,” Melanie said after a few minutes of watching the computer function. “It’s working just as you said. What’s so disturbing?”

“Just hold on,” Kevin said.

All at once the number 37 appeared but no blinking red light. After a few moments, a prompt flashed onto the screen. It said: animal not located: click to recommence.

Melanie looked at Kevin. “Where’s number thirty-seven?”

Kevin sighed. “What’s left is in the incinerator,” he said. “Number thirty-seven was Mr. Winchester’s double. But that’s not what I wanted to show you.” Kevin clicked and the program restarted. Then it stopped again at forty-two.

“Was that Mr. Franconi’s double?” Candace asked. “The other liver transplant?”

Kevin shook his head. He pressed several keys, asking the computer the identity of forty-two. The name Warren Prescott appeared.

“So where’s forty-two?” Melanie asked.

“I don’t know for sure, but I know what I fear,” Kevin said. Kevin clicked and again the numbers and red lights alternately flashed on the screen.

When the entire program had run its course, it had indicated that seven of the bonobo doubles were unaccounted for, not including Franconi’s, which had been sacrificed.

“Is this what you found earlier?” Melanie asked.

Kevin nodded. “But it wasn’t seven, it was twelve. And although some of the ones that were missing this morning are still missing, most of them have reappeared.”

“I don’t understand,” Melanie said. “How can that be?”

“When I toured that island way back before all this started,” Kevin said, “I remember seeing some caves in that limestone cliff. What I’m thinking is that our creations are going into the caves, maybe even living in them. It’s the only way I can think of to explain why the grid would fail to pick them up.”

Melanie brought up a hand to cover her mouth. Her eyes reflected a flicker of horror and dismay.

Candace saw Melanie’s reaction. “Hey, come on, guys,” she pleaded. “What’s wrong? What are you thinking?”

Melanie lowered her hand. Her eyes were locked on Kevin’s. “What Kevin was referring to when he said he was terrified he’d overstepped the bounds,” she explained in a slow, deliberate voice, “was the fear that he’d created a human.”

“You’re not serious!” Candace exclaimed, but a glance at Kevin and then at Melanie indicated that she was.

For a full minute no one spoke.

Finally Kevin broke the silence. “I’m not suggesting a real human being in the guise of an ape,” Kevin said finally. “I’m suggesting that I’ve inadvertently created a kind of protohuman. Maybe something akin to our distant ancestral forebears who spontaneously appeared in nature from apelike animals four or five million years ago. Maybe back then the critical mutations responsible for the change occurred in the developmental genes I’ve subsequently learned are on the short arm of chromosome six.”

Candace found herself blankly gazing out the window, while her mind replayed the scene two days previous in the OR when the bonobo was about to be inducted under anesthesia. He’d made curious humanlike sounds and tried desperately to keep his hands free so that he could continue to make the same wild gesture. He’d been constantly opening and closing his fingers and then sweeping his hands away from his body.

“You’re talking about some early hominidlike creature, something on the order of Homo erectus,” Melanie said. “It’s true we noticed the infant transgenic bonobos tended to walk upright more than their mothers. At the time we just thought it was cute.”

“Not so early a hominid as not to have used fire,” Kevin said. “Only true early man has used fire. And that’s what I’m worried I’ve been seeing on the island: campfires.”

“So, to put it bluntly,” Candace said, turning away from the window. “We’ve got a bunch of cavemen out there like back in prehistoric time.”

“Something like that,” Kevin said. As he’d expected the women were aghast. Strangely, he actually felt a little better now that he’d voiced his anxieties.

“What are we going to do?” Candace demanded. “I’m certainly not going to be involved with sacrificing any more until this is resolved one way or the other. I was having a hard enough time dealing with the situation when I thought the victim was an ape.”

“Wait a sec,” Melanie said. She spread her hands with fingers apart. Her eyes were blazing anew. “Maybe we’re jumping to conclusions here. There’s no proof of all this. Everything we’ve been talking about is circumstantial at best.”

“True, but there’s more,” Kevin said. He turned back to the computer and instructed it to display the locations of all the bonobos on the island simultaneously. Within seconds, two red splotches began pulsating. One was in the location where Melanie’s double had been. The other was north of the lake. Kevin looked up at Melanie. “What does this data suggest to you?”

“It suggests there are two groups,” she said. “Do you think it is permanent?”

“It was the same earlier,” Kevin said. “I think it is a real phenomenon. Even Bertram mentioned it. That’s not typical of bonobos. They get along in larger social groups than chimps, plus these are all relatively young animals. They should all be in one group.”

Melanie nodded. Over the previous five years she’d learned a lot about bonobo behavior.

“And there is something else more upsetting,” Kevin said. “Bertram told me one of the bonobos killed one of the pygmies on the retrieval of Winchester’s double. It wasn’t an accident. The bonobo aggressively threw a rock. That kind of aggression is more associated with human behavior than with bonobos.”

“I’d have to agree,” Melanie said. “But it’s still circumstantial. All of it.”

“Circumstantial or not,” Candace said, “I’m not going to have it on my conscience.”

“I feel the same way,” Melanie said. “I’ve spent today getting two new female bonobos started on the egg-collection protocol. I’m not going to proceed until we find out if this wild idea about these possible protohumans is valid or not.”

“That’s not going to be easy,” Kevin said. “To prove it, somebody has to go to the island. The trouble is there are only two people who can authorize a visit: Bertram Edwards or Siegfried Spallek. I already tried to talk with Bertram, and even though I brought up the issue about the smoke, he made it very clear that no one was allowed near the island accept for a pygmy who brings supplementary food.”

“Did you tell him what you are worried about?” Melanie asked.

“Not in so many words,” Kevin said. “But he knew. I’m sure of it. He wasn’t interested. The problem is that he and Siegfried have been included in the project bonuses. Consequently, they are going to make damn sure nothing threatens it. I’m afraid they’re venal enough not to care what’s on the island. And on top of their venality we have to weigh in Siegfried’s sociopathy.”

“Is he that bad?” Candace asked. “I’d heard rumors.”

“Whatever you heard, it’s ten times worse,” Melanie said. “He’s a major sleazeball. To give you an example, he executed some impoverished Equatoguinean men because they’d been caught poaching in the Zone, where he likes to hunt.”

“He killed them himself?” Candace questioned with shock and revulsion.

“Not by himself,” Melanie said. “He had the men tried in a kangaroo court here in Cogo. Then they were executed by a handful of Equatoguinean soldiers at the soccer field.”

“And to add insult to injury,” Kevin said, “he uses the skulls as bowls for odds and ends on his desk.”

“Sorry I asked,” Candace said with a shiver.

“What about Dr. Lyons?” Melanie asked.

Kevin laughed. “Forget it. He’s more venal than Bertram. This whole operation is his baby. I tried to talk to him about the smoke, too. He was even less receptive. Claimed it was my imagination. Frankly I don’t trust him, although I have to give him credit for being generous with bonuses and stocks. He’s cleverly given everyone connected with the project a real stake in the venture, particularly Bertram and Siegfried.”

“So, that leaves it all up to us,” Melanie said. “Let’s find out if it’s your imagination or not. What do you say the three of us take a quick trip to Isla Francesca?”

“You’re joking,” Kevin said. “It’s a capital offense without authorization.”

“It’s a capital offense for locals,” Melanie said. “That can’t apply to us. In our case, Siegfried has to answer to GenSys.”

“Bertram specifically forbade visits,” Kevin said. “I offered to go by myself, and he said no.”

“Well, big deal,” Melanie said. “So he gets mad. What is he going to do, fire us? I’ve been here long enough so that I don’t think that would be half bad. Besides, they can’t do without you. That’s the reality.”

“Do you think it might be dangerous?” Candace asked.

“Bonobos are peaceful creatures,” Melanie said. “Much more so than chimps, and chimps aren’t dangerous unless you corner them.”

“What about the man who was killed?” Candace said.

“That was during a retrieval,” Kevin said. “They had to get close enough to shoot a dart gun. Also, it was the fourth retrieval.”

“All we want to do is observe,” Melanie said.

“Okay, how do we get there?” Candace asked.

“Drive, I guess,” Melanie said. “That’s how they go when they do a release or a retrieval. There must be some kind of bridge.”

“There’s a road that goes east along the coast,” Kevin said. “It’s paved to the native village then it becomes a track. That’s how I went on the visit to the island before we started the program. For a hundred feet or so the island and the mainland are only separated by a channel thirty feet wide. Back then there was a wire suspension bridge stretched between two mahogany trees.”

“Maybe we can view the animals without even going across,” Candace said. “Let’s do it.”

“You ladies are fearless,” Kevin remarked.

“Hardly,” Melanie said. “But I don’t see any problem with driving up there and checking the situation out. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we can make a better decision about what we want to do.”

“When do you want to do this?” Kevin questioned.

“I’d say now,” Melanie replied. She glanced at her watch. “There’s no better time. Ninety percent of the population of the town is either at the waterfront chickee bar, splashing around in the pool, or sweating buckets at the athletic center.”

Kevin sighed, let his arms fall limply to his sides, and capitulated. “Whose car should we take?” he asked.

“Yours,” Melanie said without hesitation. “Mine doesn’t even have four-wheel drive.”

As the trio descended the stairs and made their way across the sweltering blacktop of the parking area, Kevin had the gnawing sense they were making a mistake. But in the face of the women’s resolve, he felt reluctant to voice his reservations.

On the east exit of the town, they passed the athletic center’s tennis courts, which were chockful of players. Between the humidity and heat, the players looked as drenched as if they’d jumped into a swimming pool with their tennis outfits on.

Kevin drove. Melanie sat in the front passenger seat, while Candace sat in the back. The windows were all open, since the temperature had fallen into the high eighties. The sun was low in the west, directly behind them and peeking in and out of clouds along the horizon.

Just beyond the soccer field the vegetation closed in around the road. Brightly colored birds flitted in and out of the deepening shadows. Large insects annihilated themselves against the windshield like miniature kamikaze pilots.

“The jungle looks dense,” Candace said. She’d never traveled east from the town.

“You have no idea,” Kevin said. When he’d first arrived he’d tried to take some hikes in the area, but with the profusion of vines and creepers, it was all but impossible without a machete.

“I just had a thought about the aggression issue,” Melanie said. “The passivity of bonobo society is generally attributed to its matriarchal character. Because of the skewed demand for male doubles, our program has a population that’s mostly male. There has to be a lot of competition for the few females.”

“That’s a good point,” Kevin agreed. He wondered why Bertram hadn’t thought of it.

“Sounds like my type of place,” Candace joked. “Maybe I should book Isla Francesca instead of Club Med on my next vacation.”

Melanie laughed. “Let’s go together,” she said.

They passed a number of Equatoguineans on their way home from work in Cogo. Most of the women carried jugs and parcels on top of their heads. The men were generally empty-handed.

“It’s a strange culture,” Melanie commented. “The women do the lion’s share of the work: growing the food, carrying the water, raising the kids, cooking the meals, taking care of the house.”

“What do the men do?” Candace asked.

“Sit around and discuss metaphysics,” Melanie said.

“I just had an idea,” Kevin said. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Maybe we should talk to the pygmy who takes out the food to the island first and hear what he has to say.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Melanie said. “Do you know his name?”

“Alphonse Kimba,” Kevin said.

When they reached the native village, they pulled to a stop in front of the busy general store and got out. Kevin went inside to inquire after the pygmy.

“This place is almost too charming,” Candace said as she looked around the neighborhood. “It looks African but like something you’d see in Disneyland.”

GenSys had built the village with the cooperation of the Equatoguinean Minister of the Interior. The homes were circular, whitewashed mud brick with thatched roofs. Corrals for domestic animals were made of reed mats lashed to wooden stakes. The structures appeared traditional, but every one of them was new and spotless. They also had electricity and running water. Buried underground were powerlines and modern sewers.

Kevin returned quickly. “No problem,” he said. “He lives close by. Come on, we’ll walk.”

The village was alive with men, women, and children. Traditional cooking fires were in the process of being lit. Everyone acted happy and friendly from having been recently freed from the captivity of the interminable rainy season.

Alphonse Kimba was less than five feet tall with skin as black as onyx. A constant smile dominated his wide, flat face as he welcomed his unexpected visitors. He tried to introduce his wife and child, but they were shy and shrunk back into the shadows.

Alphonse invited his guests to sit on a reed mat. He then got four glasses and poured a dollop of clear fluid into each from an old green bottle that had at one time contained motor oil.

His visitors warily swirled the fluid. They didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but they were reluctant to drink.

“Alcohol?” Kevin asked.

“Oh, yes!” Alphonse said. His smile broadened. “It is lotoko from corn. Very good! I bring it from my home in Lomako.” He sipped with intense enjoyment. In contrast to the Equatoguineans, Alphonse’s English was accented with French, not Spanish. He was a member of the Mongandu people from Zaire. He’d been brought to the Zone with the first shipment of bonobos.

Since the drink contained alcohol, which would presumably kill potential microorganisms, the guests cautiously tasted the brew. All of them made faces in spite of good intentions not to do so. The drink was powerfully pungent.

Kevin explained that they had come to ask about the bonobos on the island. He didn’t mention his concern that their number included a strain of protohumans. He asked only if Alphonse thought they were acting like bonobos back in his home province in Zaire.

“They are all very young,” Alphonse said. “So they are very unruly and wild.”

“Do you go on the island often?” Kevin asked.

“No, I am forbidden,” Alphonse said. “Only when we retrieve or release, and only then with Dr. Edwards.”

“How do you get the extra food to the island?” Melanie asked.

“There is a small float,” Alphonse said. “I pull it across the water with a rope, then pull it back.”

“Are the bonobos aggressive with the food or do they share?” Melanie asked.

“Very aggressive,” Alphonse said. “They fight like crazy, especially for the fruit. I also saw one kill a monkey.”

“Why?” Kevin asked.

“I think to eat,” Alphonse said. “He carried it away after the food I brought was all gone.”

“That sounds more like a chimp,” Melanie said to Kevin.

Kevin nodded. “Where on the island have the retrievals taken place?” he asked.

“All have been on this side of the lake and stream,” Alphonse said.

“None have been over by the cliff?” Kevin asked.

“No, never,” Alphonse said.

“How do you get to the island for the retrieval?” Kevin asked. “Does everybody use the float?”

Alphonse laughed heartily. He had to dry his eyes with his knuckle. “The float is too small. We’d all be supper for the crocs. We use the bridge.”

“Why don’t you use the bridge for the food?” Melanie asked.

“Because Dr. Edwards has to make the bridge grow,” Alphonse said.

“Grow?” Melanie questioned.

“Yes,” Alphonse said.

The three guests exchanged glances. They were confused.

“Have you seen any fire on the island?” Kevin asked, changing the subject.

“No fire,” Alphonse said. “But I’ve seen smoke.”

“And what did you think?” Kevin asked.

“Me?” Alphonse questioned. “I didn’t think anything.”

“Have you ever seen one of the bonobos do this?” Candace asked. She opened and closed her fingers then swept her hand away from her body in imitation of the bonobo in the operating room.

“Yes,” Alphonse said. “Many do that when they finish dividing up the food.”

“How about noise?” Melanie asked. “Do they make a lot of sounds?”

“A lot,” Alphonse said.

“Like the bonobos back in Zaire?” Kevin asked.

“More,” Alphonse said. “But back in Zaire I don’t see the same bonobos so often as I do here, and I don’t feed them. Back home they get their own food in the jungle.”

“What kind of noise do they make?” Candace asked. “Can you give us an example.”

Alphonse laughed self-consciously. He glanced around at his wife to make sure she wasn’t listening. Then he softly vocalized: “Eeee, ba da, loo loo, tad tat.” He laughed again. He was embarrassed.

“Do they hoot like chimps?” Melanie asked.

“Some,” Alphonse said.

The guests looked at each other. They’d run out of questions for the moment. Kevin got up. The women did the same. They thanked Alphonse for his hospitality and handed back their unfinished drinks. If Alphonse was offended, he didn’t show it. His smile didn’t falter.

“There’s one other thing,” Alphonse said just before his guests departed. “The bonobos on the island like to show off. Whenever they come for the food, they make themselves stand up.”

“All the time?” Kevin asked.

“Mostly,” Alphonse said.

The group walked back through the village to the car. They didn’t talk until Kevin had started the motor.

“Well, what do you guys think?” Kevin asked. “Should we continue? The sun’s already set.”

“I vote yes,” Melanie said. “We’ve come this far.”

“I agree,” Candace said. “I’m curious to see this bridge that grows.”

Melanie laughed. “Me, too. What a charming fellow.”

Kevin drove away from the store, which was now busier than earlier. But he wasn’t sure of his direction. The road into the village had simply expanded into the parking area for the store, and there was no indication of the track leading further east. To find it, he had to cruise the parking lot’s perimeter.

Once on the track, they were impressed with how much easier it had been to travel on the improved road. The track was narrow, bumpy, and muddy. Grass about three feet tall grew down the median strip. Frequently branches stretched from one side to the other, slapping against the windshield and poking through the open windows. To avoid being hit by the snapping branches, they had to raise the windows. Kevin clicked on the air conditioner and the lights. The beams reflected off the surrounding vegetation and gave the impression of driving through a tunnel.

“How far do we have to go on this cow path?” Melanie asked.

“Only three or four miles,” Kevin said.

“It’s a good thing we have four-wheel drive,” Candace remarked. She was holding on tightly to the overhead strap and still bouncing around. The seat belt wasn’t helping. “The last thing I’d want to do is get stuck out here.” She glanced out the side window at the inky black jungle and shivered. It was eerie. She couldn’t see a thing despite patches of luminous sky above. And then there was the noise. Just during their short visit with Alphonse, the night creatures of the jungle had commenced their loud and monotonous chorus.

“What did you make of the things Alphonse said?” Kevin asked finally.

“I’d say the jury is still out,” Melanie said. “But they’re certainly deliberating.”

“I think his comment about the bonobos being bipedal when they come to get the food is very disturbing,” Kevin said. “The circumstantial evidence is adding up.”

“The suggestion that they are communicating impressed me,” Candace said.

“Yeah, but chimps and gorillas have been taught sign language,” Melanie said. “And we know bonobos are more bipedal than any other apes. What impressed me was the aggressive behavior, although I stand by my idea that it might be from our mistake not to have produced more females to maintain the balance.”

“Can chimps make those sounds that Alphonse imitated?” Candace asked.

“I don’t think so,” Kevin said. “And that’s an important point. It suggests maybe their larynges are different.”

“Do chimps really kill monkeys?” Candace asked.

“They do occasionally,” Melanie said. “But I’ve never heard of a bonobo doing so.”

“Hang on!” Kevin shouted as he braked.

The car lurched over a log strewn across the track.

“Are you okay?” he asked Candace, while glancing up into the rearview mirror.

“No problem,” Candace said, although she’d been severely jolted. Luckily the seat belt had worked, and it had kept her head from hitting the roof.

Kevin slowed considerably for fear of encountering another log. Fifteen minutes later, they entered a clearing which marked the termination of the track. Kevin came to a halt. Directly ahead the headlight beams washed the front of a single-story cinder-block building with an overhead garage door.

“Is this it?” Melanie questioned.

“I guess,” Kevin said. “The building is new to me.”

Kevin switched off the lights and the engine. With the clearing open to the sky the level of illumination was adequate. For a moment no one moved.

“What’s the story?” Kevin asked. “Are we going to check it out or what?”

“Might as well,” Melanie said. “We’ve come this far.” She opened her door and got out. Kevin did the same.

“I think I’ll stay in the car,” Candace said.

Kevin went to the building and tried the door. It was locked. He shrugged. “I can’t imagine what’s in there.” Kevin slapped a mosquito on his forehead.

“How do we get to the island?” Melanie asked.

Kevin pointed to the right. “There’s a track over there. It’s only about fifty yards to the water’s edge.”

Melanie glanced up at the sky. It was a pale lavender. “It’s going to be dark pretty soon. Do you have a flashlight in the car?”

“I think so,” Kevin said. “More important, I have some mosquito spray. We’re going to get eaten alive out here unless we use it.”

They went back to the car. Just as they arrived, Candace climbed out.

“I can’t stay in here by myself,” she said. “It’s too spooky.”

Kevin got the mosquito spray. While the women doused themselves, he searched for the flashlight. He found it in the glove compartment.

After spraying himself, Kevin motioned for the women to follow him. “Stay close,” he said. “The crocodiles and the hippos come out of the water at night.”

“Is he joking?” Candace asked Melanie.

“I don’t think so,” Melanie said.

As soon as they entered the path, the illumination fell considerably although it was still light enough to walk without the flashlight. Kevin led while the two women crowded behind. The closer they got to the water the louder the chorus of insects and frogs became.

“How did I get myself into this?” Candace questioned. “I’m no outdoors person. I can’t even conceive of a crocodile or a hippo outside of a zoo. Hell, any bug bigger than my thumbnail terrifies me, and spiders, forget it.”

All of the sudden, there was a crashing noise off to the left. Candace let out a muffled scream, as she grabbed Melanie who then did likewise. Kevin whimpered and switched on the light. He pointed the beam in the direction of the noise, but it only penetrated a few feet.

“What was that?” Candace demanded when she could find her voice.

“Probably a duiker,” Kevin said. “They’re a small breed of antelope.”

“Antelope or elephant,” Candace said. “It scared me.”

“It scared me, too,” Kevin said. “Maybe we should go back and return in the daytime.”

“We’ve come all this way for crissake,” Melanie said. “We’re there. I can hear the water.”

For a moment no one moved. Sure enough, they could hear water lapping against the shore.

“What happened to all the night creatures?” Candace asked.

“Good question,” Kevin said. “The antelope must have scared them as well.”

“Turn the light off,” Melanie said.

As soon as Kevin did, they all could see the shimmering surface of the water through the vegetation. It looked like liquid silver.

Melanie led the way as the chorus of night creatures recommenced. The path opened up into another clearing at the edge of the river. In the middle of the clearing was a dark object almost the size of the garage back where they’d left the car. Kevin walked up to it. It wasn’t hard to figure out what it was: it was the bridge.

“It’s a telescoping mechanism,” Kevin said. “That’s why Alphonse said that it could grow.”

About thirty feet across the water was Isla Francesca. In the fading light, its dense vegetation appeared midnight-blue. Directly across from the telescoping bridge was a concrete structure that served as the support for the bridge when it was extended. Beyond that was an expansive clearing that extended to the east.

“Try extending the bridge,” Melanie suggested.

Kevin switched on the flashlight. He found the control panel. There were two buttons: one red, the other green. He pushed the red one. When nothing happened, he pushed the green. When there still wasn’t a reaction, he noticed a keyhole with the slot aligned with off.

“You need a key,” he called.

Melanie and Candace had walked over to the water’s edge.

“There’s a bit of current,” Melanie said. Leaves and other debris floated by slowly.

Candace looked up. The top branches of some of the trees that lined either bank almost touched. “Why do the creatures stay on the island?” she asked.

“Apes and monkeys don’t go in the water, particularly deep water,” Melanie explained. “That’s why zoos only need a moat for their primate exhibits.”

“What about crossing in the trees?” Candace asked.

Kevin joined the women at the riverbank. “The bonobos are relatively heavy fellows,” he explained, “particularly ours. Most of them are already over a hundred pounds, and the branches up there aren’t nearly strong enough to support their weight. Back before we put the first animals on the island, there were a couple of questionable places so those trees were cut down. But colobus monkeys still go back and forth.”

“What are all those square objects in the field?” Melanie asked.

Kevin shined the flashlight. Its beam wasn’t strong enough to make much difference at that distance. He turned it off and squinted in the half light. “They look like transport cages from the animal center,” he said.

“I wonder what they are doing out there?” Melanie asked. “There’re so many of them.”

“No idea,” Kevin said.

“How can we get some of the bonobos to appear?” Candace asked.

“By this time they’re probably settling down for the night,” Kevin said. “I doubt if we can.”

“What about the float?” Melanie asked. “The mechanism that pulls it across must be like a clothesline. If it makes noise, they might hear it. It would be like a dinner bell and might bring them around.”

“Guess it’s worth a try,” Kevin said. He glanced up and down the water’s edge. “Trouble is, we don’t have any idea where the float may be.”

“I can’t imagine it would be far,” Melanie said. “You go east, I’ll go west.”

Kevin and Melanie walked in opposite directions. Candace stayed were she was, wishing she were back in her room in the hospital quarters.

“Here it is!” Melanie called out. She’d followed a path in the dense foliage for a short distance before coming to a pulley attached to a thick tree. A heavy rope hung around the pulley. One end disappeared into the water. The other end was tied to a four-foot square float nestled against the shore.

Kevin and Candace joined her. Kevin shined the flashlight across to the island. On the other side a similar pulley was attached to a similar tree.

Kevin handed the flashlight to Melanie and grasped the rope that drooped into the water. When he pulled, he could see the pulley on the other side swing out from the trunk of the tree.

Kevin pulled on the rope hand over hand. The pulleys complained bitterly with high-pitched squeaking noises. The float immediately moved away from the shore on its way to the other side.

“This might work,” Kevin said. While he pulled, Melanie swept the other shore with the flashlight beam. When the float was halfway across, there was a loud splash to their right as a large object dropped into the water from the island.

Melanie shined the light in the direction of the splash. Two glowing slits of light reflected back from the surface of the water. Peering at them was a large crocodile.

“Good lord!” Candace said as she stepped back from the water.

“It’s okay,” Kevin said. He let go of the rope, reached down and picked up a stout stick. He threw the stick at the croc. With another loud splash the crocodile disappeared beneath the water.

“Oh, great!” Candace said. “Now we have no idea where he is.”

“He’s gone,” Kevin said. “They’re not dangerous unless you’re in the water or they’re very hungry.”

“Who’s to say he’s not hungry?” Candace commented.

“There’s plenty for them to eat out here,” Kevin said as he picked up the rope and recommenced pulling. When the float reached the other side, he switched ropes and started pulling it back.

“Ah, it’s too late,” he said. “This isn’t going to work. The closest nesting area we saw on the computer graphic is over a mile away. We’ll have to try this in the daytime.”

No sooner had these words escaped from his mouth when the night was shattered by a number of fearsome screams. At the same time, there was wild commotion in the bushes on the island as if a stampeding elephant was about to appear.

Kevin dropped the rope. Both Candace and Melanie fled back along the path a few steps before stopping. With pulses pounding they froze, waiting for another scream. With a shaking hand, Melanie shined the flashlight at the area where the commotion had occurred. Everything was still. Not a leaf moved.

Ten tense seconds passed that seemed more like ten minutes. The group strained their ears to pick up the slightest sound. There was nothing but utter silence. All the night creatures had fallen silent. It was as if the entire jungle was waiting for a catastrophe.

“What in heaven’s name was that?” Melanie asked finally.

“I’m not sure I want to find out,” Candace said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“It must have been a couple of the bonobos,” Kevin said. He reached out and grabbed the rope. The float was being buffeted in midstream. He quickly hauled it in.

“I think Candace is right,” Melanie said. “It’s gotten too dark to see much even if they did appear. I’m spooked. Let’s go!”

“You’ll not get an argument from me,” Kevin said as he made his way over to the women. “I don’t know what we’re doing here at this hour. We’ll come back in the daylight.”

They hurried along the path to the clearing as best they could. Melanie led with the flashlight. Candace was behind her, holding on to her blouse. Kevin brought up the rear.

“It would be great to get a key for this bridge,” Kevin said as they passed the structure.

“And how do you propose to do that?” Melanie asked.

“Borrow Bertram’s,” Kevin said.

“But you told us he forbid anyone to go to the island,” Melanie said. “He’s certainly not going to lend the key.”

“We’ll have to borrow it without his knowledge,” Kevin said.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Melanie said sarcastically.

They entered the tunnel-like path leading up to the car. Halfway to the parking area Melanie said: “God, it’s dark. Am I holding the light okay for you guys?”

“It’s fine,” Candace said.

Melanie slowed then stopped.

“What’s the matter?” Kevin asked.

“There’s something strange,” she said. She cocked her head to the side, listening.

“Now don’t get me scared,” Candace warned.

“The frogs and crickets haven’t restarted their racket,” Melanie said.

In the next instant all hell broke loose. A loud, repetitive stuttering noise splintered the jungle stillness. Branches, twigs, and leaves rained down on the group. Kevin recognized the noise and reacted by reflex. Extending his arms, he literally tackled the women so that all three fell to the moist insect-infested earth.

The reason Kevin recognized the sound was because he once had inadvertently witnessed the Equatoguinean soldiers practicing. The noise was the sound of a machine gun.