Invasion

3

11:15 A.M.

Olgavee Hall was one of the largest tiered lecture halls in the business school. Although not a graduate student, Beau had been given special permission to take an advanced marketing course that was extremely popular with the business school students. In fact, it was so popular it needed the seating capacity of Olgavee. The lectures were exciting and stimulating. The course was taught in an interactive style with a different professor each week. The downside was that each class required a lot of preparation. One had to be prepared to be called on at any moment.

But Beau was finding it uncharacteristically hard to concentrate at today’s lecture. It wasn’t the professor’s fault. It was Beau’s. To the dismay of his immediate neighbors as well as himself, he couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat. He’d developed uncomfortable aches in his muscles that made it impossible to get comfortable. On top of that he had a dull headache behind his eyes. What made everything worse was that he was sitting in the center of the hall four rows back and directly in the line of sight of the lecturer. Beau always made it a point to get to lecture early to get the best seat.

Beau could tell that the speaker was getting annoyed, but he didn’t know what to do.

It had started on his way to Olgavee Hall. The first symptom had been a stinging sensation somewhere up inside his nose causing a wave of violent sneezes. It wasn’t long before he was blowing his nose on a regular basis. Initially he’d thought he’d caught a cold. But now he had to admit that it had to be more. The irritation rapidly progressed from his sinuses into his throat, which was now sore, especially when he swallowed. To make matters worse, he began to cough repeatedly, which hurt his throat as much as swallowing.

The person sitting directly in front of Beau turned and gave him a dirty look after Beau let out a particularly explosive cough.

As time dragged on, Beau became particularly bothered by a stiff neck. He tried to rub his muscles, but it didn’t help. Even the lapel of his jacket seemed to be exacerbating the discomfort. Thinking that the leadlike object in his pocket might be contributing, Beau took it out and put it on the desk in front of him. It looked odd, sitting on his notes. Its perfectly round shape and exquisite symmetry suggested it was a manufactured piece, yet Beau had no idea if it was. For a moment he thought that perhaps it could have been a futuristic paperweight, but he dismissed the idea as too prosaic. More probable was that it was a tiny sculpture, but he truly wasn’t sure. Vaguely he wondered if he should take it over to the geology department to inquire if it could be the result of a natural phenomenon like a geode.

Musing about the object made Beau examine the minute wound on the tip of his index finger. It was now a red dot in the center of a few millimeters of pale, bluish skin. Surrounding that was a two-millimeter halo of redness. To the touch it was mildly sore. It felt like a doctor had poked him with one of those strange little lancets they used to get a small blood sample.

A shaking chill interrupted Beau’s thoughts. The chill was followed by a sustained bout of coughing. When he finally got his breath, he acknowledged the futility of attempting to last through the lecture. He wasn’t getting anything out of it, and on top of that he was bothering his fellow students and the lecturer.

Beau gathered his papers, slipped his putative mini-sculpture back into his pocket, and stood up. He had to excuse himself multiple times to move laterally along the row. Because of the narrow space his exit caused a significant commotion. One student even dropped his looseleaf notebook which opened and sent its contents wafting down into the pit.

When Beau finally got to the aisle, he caught a glimpse of the lecturer shielding his eyes so as to see who was making all the fuss. He was one person Beau wasn’t going to ask for a letter of recommendation.

Feeling emotionally as well as physically exhausted at the end of the school day, Cassy made her way down the main stairs of the high school and exited out into the horseshoe drive in front. It was pretty clear to her that from a teaching standpoint she liked elementary school much better than high school. From her perspective high-schoolers generally seemed too self-centered and too interested in constantly challenging their boundaries. She even thought a number of them were downright mean. Give me an innocent, eager third-grader any day, Cassy reflected.

The afternoon sun felt warm on Cassy’s face. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she scanned the multitude of vehicles in the drive. She was looking for Beau’s 4×4. He insisted on picking her up each afternoon, and was usually waiting for her. Obviously today was different.

Looking for a place to sit, Cassy saw a familiar face waiting nearby. It was Jonathan Sellers from Mrs. Edelman’s English class. Cassy walked over and said hello.

“Oh, hi,” Jonathan stammered. He nervously glanced around, hoping he wasn’t being observed by any classmates. He could feel his face blush. The fact of the matter was, he thought Cassy was the best-looking teacher they’d ever had and had told Tim as much after class.

“Thanks for breaking the ice this morning,” Cassy said. “It was a big help. For a moment I was afraid I was at a funeral, my funeral.”

“It was just lucky I’d tried to see what it said about Faulkner in my laptop.”

“I still think it took a bit of courage on your part to say something,” Cassy said. “I appreciated it. It certainly got the ball rolling. I was afraid no one would speak.”

“My friends can be jerks at times,” Jonathan admitted.

A dark blue minivan pulled up to the curb. Nancy Sellers leaned across the front seat and popped open the passenger-side door.

“Hi, Mom,” Jonathan voiced with a little self-conscious wave.

Nancy Sellers’s bright, intelligent eyes jumped back and forth between her seventeen-year-old son and this rather sexy college-age woman. She knew his interest in girls had suddenly mushroomed, but this situation seemed a wee bit inappropriate.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Nancy asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan said, eyeing the crack in the sidewalk. “This is Miss Winthrope.”

Cassy leaned forward and stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Sellers. You can call me Cassy.”

“Cassy it is then,” Nancy replied. She shook Cassy’s outstretched hand. There was a short but awkward pause before Nancy asked how long Cassy and Jonathan had known each other.

“Mommmm!” Jonathan moaned. He knew instantly what she was implying, and felt mortified. “Miss Winthrope is a student teacher in English class.”

“Oh, I see,” Nancy remarked with mild relief.

“My mom is a research virologist,” Jonathan said to change the subject and help explain how she could say something so stupid.

“Really,” Cassy said. “That’s certainly an interesting and important field in today’s world. Are you at the University Med Center?”

“No, I’m employed at Serotec Pharmaceuticals,” Nancy said. “But my husband is at the university. He runs the physics department.”

“My goodness,” Cassy said. She was impressed. “No wonder you have such a bright son here.”

Over the top of the Sellerses’ van Cassy caught sight of Beau turning into the horseshoe drive.

“Well, nice meeting you,” Cassy said to Nancy. Then turning to Jonathan she said: “Thanks again for today.”

“It was nothing,” Jonathan insisted.

Cassy half skipped, half ran up to where Beau had pulled to the curb.

Jonathan watched her go, mesmerized by the motion of her buttocks beneath her thin cotton dress.

“Well, am I giving you a ride home or not?” Nancy questioned to break the spell. She was becoming concerned again that there was something going on she didn’t know about.

Jonathan climbed into the front of the car after carefully depositing his laptop on the backseat.

“What was she thanking you for?” Nancy asked as they pulled away. She could see Cassy getting into a utility vehicle driven by an attractive male her own age. Nancy’s concerns melted again. It was tough raising a teenager: one minute proud, the next concerned. It was an emotional roller coaster for which Nancy felt unequipped.

Jonathan shrugged. “Like I said, it was nothing.”

“Good grief,” Nancy said, frustrated. “Getting even a modicum of information from you reminds me of that saying about squeezing water out of a rock.”

“Gimme a break,” Jonathan said. As they drove past the black 4×4 he stole another glance at Cassy. She was sitting in the vehicle, talking with the driver.

“You look terrible,” Cassy said. She was twisted in the seat so she could look directly into Beau’s face. He was paler than she’d ever seen him. Perspiration stood on his forehead like tiny cabochon topazes. His eyes were red and rheumy.

“Thanks for the compliment,” Beau said.

“Really,” Cassy said. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know,” Beau said. He covered his mouth while he coughed. “It came on me just before my marketing class, and it’s getting worse. I guess I got the flu. You know, muscle aches, sore throat, runny nose, headache, the works.”

Cassy stretched out her hand and felt his sweaty brow. “You’re hot,” she said.

“Funny because I feel cold,” Beau said. “I’ve been having shivers. I even got into bed, but as soon as I was under the covers, I felt hot and kicked them off.”

“You should have stayed in bed,” Cassy said. “I could have bummed a ride with one of the other student teachers.”

“There was no way to get in touch with you,” Beau said.

“Men,” Cassy voiced as she got out of the car. “You guys never want to admit when you’re sick.”

“Where are you going?” Beau questioned.

Cassy didn’t answer. Instead she walked around the front of the car and opened Beau’s door. “Shove over,” she said. “I’m driving.”

“I can drive,” Beau said.

“No arguments,” Cassy said. “Move!”

Beau didn’t have the energy to protest. Besides, he knew it was probably best even though he wouldn’t admit it.

Cassy put the car in gear. At the corner she turned right instead of left.

“Where the hell are you going?” Beau asked. With his head throbbing he wanted to get back to bed.

“You are going to the student infirmary at the University Med Center,” Cassy said. “I don’t like the way you look.”

“I’ll be all right,” Beau complained, but he didn’t protest further. He was feeling worse by the minute.

The entrance to the student infirmary was through the ER, and as Cassy and Beau walked in, Pitt saw them and came out from behind the front desk.

“Good grief!” Pitt said when he took one look at Beau. “Did the Nite organization cancel your interview or did you get run over by the women’s track team?”

“I can do without your wisecracks,” Beau mumbled. “I think I got the flu.”

“You ain’t kidding,” Pitt said. “Here, come on into one of the ER bays. I don’t think they want you down in the student walk-in clinic.”

Beau allowed himself to be led into a cubicle. Pitt facilitated the visit by bringing in one of the most compassionate nurses and then by going out to get one of the more senior ER physicians.

Between the nurse and the doctor Beau was quickly examined. Blood was drawn and an IV started.

“This is just for hydration,” the doctor said, tapping the IV bottle. “I think you have a bad case of the flu, but your lungs are clear. Still, I think it best for you to stay in the student overnight ward, at least for a few hours to see if we can’t bring your fever down and control that cough. We’ll also be able to take a look at your blood work in case there’s something I’m missing.”

“I don’t want to stay in the hospital,” Beau complained.

“If the doctor thinks you should stay, you’re staying,” Cassy said. “I don’t want to hear any macho bull crap.”

Pitt was again able to grease the skids, and within a half hour Beau was comfortably situated in one of the student overnight rooms. It looked like a typical hospital room with vinyl flooring, metal furniture, a TV, and a window that looked south over the hospital lawn. Beau was dressed in hospital-issue pajamas. His clothes were hung in the closet, and his watch, wallet, and the black mini-sculpture were in a metal valuables cabinet affixed to the top of the bureau. Cassy had programmed the combination lock with the last four digits of their home phone number.

Pitt excused himself to get back to the ER desk.

“Comfortable?” Cassy asked. Beau was lying on his back. His eyes were closed. He’d been given a cough suppressant which had already taken effect. He was exhausted.

“As comfortable as can be expected,” Beau murmured.

“The doctor said I should come back in a few hours,” Cassy said. “All the tests will be available and most likely I’ll be able to take you home.”

“I’ll be here,” Beau said. He was enjoying the sensation of a strange languid sleep settling over him like a welcome blanket. He didn’t even hear Cassy close the door behind her when she left.

Beau slept more soundly than he’d ever slept. He didn’t even dream. After several hours of this comalike trance his body took on a faint phosphorescence. Inside the locked valuables box the black disciform object did the same, particularly one of eight small domed excrescences arrayed around the object’s rim. Suddenly the tiny disc detached itself and floated free. Its glow intensified until it became a pinpoint of light like a distant star.

Moving laterally the point of light contacted the side of the valuables box, but it didn’t slow. With a muted hissing sound and a few sparks it traveled through the metal, leaving a tiny, perfectly symmetrical hole behind it.

Once free of the confined space, the point of light traveled directly to Beau, causing Beau’s luminosity to intensify. It approached Beau’s right eye and then hovered a few millimeters away. Slowly the intensity of the point of light decreased until it assumed its normal flat black color.

A few pulses of visible light traveled from the tiny object and impinged on Beau’s eyelid. Instantly the eye opened while the other stayed shut. The exposed pupil was maximally dilated with just a bare band of iris visible.

Pulses of electromagnetic radiation were then dispatched into Beau’s open eye, mostly in the visible light wavelength. It was one computer downloading to another, and it went on for almost an hour.

“How’s our favorite patient?” Cassy asked Pitt when she came through the ER door. Pitt hadn’t seen her until she’d spoken. The ER had been busy and he’d had his hands full.

“Fine as far as I know,” Pitt said. “I looked in on him a couple of times, as did the nurse. Every time he was sleeping like a baby. I don’t think he moved. He must have been exhausted.”

“Did his blood work come back?” Cassy asked.

“Yup, and it was pretty normal,” Pitt said. “His white count was up slightly but only his mononuclear lymphocytes.”

“Hey, remember you’re talking to a layperson,” Cassy said.

“Sorry,” Pitt said. “The bottom line is that he can go home. Then it’s the usual. You know: fluids, aspirin, rest, and some TLC.”

“What do I have to do to get him released?” Cassy asked.

“Nothing,” Pitt said. “I already did all the paperwork. We just have to get him out into the car. Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”

Pitt got leave from the head nurse to take a break. He found a wheelchair and started down the hall toward the student overnight ward.

“You think a wheelchair is necessary?” Cassy asked with concern.

“We might as well have it just in case,” Pitt said. “His legs were pretty wobbly when you brought him in.”

They got to the door, and Pitt knocked quietly. When there was no answer he cracked the door and peered inside.

“Just as I thought,” Pitt said. He opened the door wide to push in the wheelchair. “Sleeping Beauty still hasn’t moved.”

Pitt parked the wheelchair and followed Cassy to the bed. Each went to a separate side.

“What did I tell you?” Pitt said. “The picture of tranquility. Why don’t you kiss him and see if he turns into a frog.”

“Should we wake him?” Cassy asked, ignoring Pitt’s attempt at humor.

“It’s going to be hard getting him home if we don’t,” Pitt said.

“He looks so peaceful,” Cassy said. “He also looks a hell of a lot better than he did earlier. In fact, his color looks normal.”

“I suppose,” Pitt said.

Cassy reached out and gently shook Beau’s arm while calling his name softly. When he didn’t respond, she shook him harder.

Beau’s eyes blinked open. He looked back and forth between his two friends. “Hey, how ya doing?” he asked.

“I think the question is how you are doing,” Cassy said.

“Me, I’m fine,” Beau said. Then his eyes made a rapid sweep around the room. “Where am I?”

“At the med center,” Cassy said.

“What am I doing here?” Beau questioned.

“You don’t remember?” Cassy asked with concern.

Beau shook his head. He yanked back the covers and threw his feet over the side.

“You don’t remember getting sick in class?” Cassy asked. “You don’t remember my bringing you here?”

“Oh, yeah,” Beau said. “It’s coming back. Yeah, I remember. I felt terrible.” He looked at Pitt. “Jeez, what did you guys give me? I feel like a new man.”

“Seems that you just needed some serious shuteye,” Pitt said. “Except for a little hydration, we really didn’t treat you.”

Beau stood up and stretched. “I might have to come in for hydration more often,” he said. “What a difference.” He eyed the wheelchair. “Who’s that contraption for?”

“You, in case you needed it,” Pitt said. “Cassy came to take you home.”

“I sure don’t need any wheelchair,” Beau said. He then coughed and made a face. “Well, my throat’s still a little sore, and I still have a cough, but let’s get out of here.” He stepped over to the closet and grabbed his clothes. He retreated to the bathroom and pushed the door almost closed. “Cassy, could you get my wallet and watch out of that cabinet?” he called through the door.

Cassy stepped over to the bureau and entered the combination.

“If you guys don’t need me, I’ll head back to the desk,” Pitt said.

Cassy turned as she stuck her hand into the valuables box. “You’ve been a dear,” she said as her hand grasped Beau’s wallet and watch. She pulled them out and shut the door. Stepping over to Pitt she gave him a hug. “Thanks for your help.”

“Hey, any time,” Pitt said self-consciously. He looked down at his feet, then out the window. Cassy had a way of making him feel flustered.

Beau came out from the bathroom still tucking in his shirt. “Yeah, thanks, buddy,” he said. He gave Pitt a poke in the arm. “Really appreciate it.”

“Glad you’re feeling better,” Pitt said. “See you around.” Pitt grabbed the wheelchair and pushed it out the door.

“He’s a good guy,” Beau said.

Cassy nodded. “He’ll make a good doctor. He really cares.”