by Danny
Danny Hearn:
I cough again, loudly. This has been getting worse and worse. Coughing. Headaches. Even a little vomiting from time to time. The smell of it coming from my stained shirt is making me a little nauseous.
"I have a theory about that, Daniel," Quantos said. Dr. Henry Quantos. One of Malvan-X's science types. He seems to have a lot of theories.
"Theory about what, Hank?" I reply.
He gives me a "don't call me Hank" look, but doesn't say anything about it. "Your apparent illness. It seems to be getting worse, isn't it?"
"Yes. Yes it does. Hank."
He gives me the look again. "Remember the blood sample I took from you last night?"
"Hmm... last night... I dunno, I was really busy last night. A lot of stuff to do. I was running around all day. There was that time in the morning I had to sit handcuffed in a cell with armed guards... then breakfast... then I had to sit handcuffed in a cell with armed guards. See? A full day. I can't be expected to remember one blood sample," I say to him.
He steps back and sighs. He grabs a chair from the corner of the room and sits down. "Daniel, why do you have to be so... unco-operative?"
"I dunno, Hank... being kidnapped and held captive against my will tends to be a little disconcerting."
He sighs again. I'm slightly amused by the sound of frustration in his sigh. "Listen, Daniel. I explained this to you. You're a chronal anomaly. Having you around could be dangerous for our time."
"You said you weren't sure. That it was only a possibility."
"That's true... but we want to be sure. We want to help our universe. And in doing so, help you."
"Shut the hell up, Hank. Stop pretending to be my friend. I'm a prisoner here, and you're my captor. There's no trust here. There's no co-operation here."
We're both silent for a moment. "Okay, Hank... you said you had a theory about me being sick," I say.
"Yes, I do."
"Let's hear it."
"You come from a different time. Eighty-one years into the future. The Earth's atmosphere is presumably much different there."
"Yeah, and?"
"Well, there are toxins in the air there that we've never heard of here. And there are toxins in the air here that have been wiped out by your time. Your immune system isn't built to cope with this atmosphere."
"Uh-huh..."
"Germs in the air here that have no effect on me... well, they take quite a toll on you. You have no resistance to them. An ordinary cold virus, almost unnoticable to me, could be devastating to you."
"Well... damn."
"Right. On the upside, you probably have immunities to things in our air that we don't."
"Probably."
Quantos looks up at the guards. They remain expressionless and motionless, guns crossing their chests. He leans in close my face. He has an angry expression on his face. "Listen," he whispers, "I can get you out of here. I can see to it that you get out of here. Some people here in the organization want to keep you around, imprison you and force you to do their dirty work. Some even want to kill you. But I can stage an escape for you."
What's this? He wants to help me? Why the hell does he have an angry expression on his face if he's being friendly?
He continues, "I just need you to co-operate for a few days. Let me confirm that it's safe for you to be running around out there. I might even be able to boost your immune system to help you handle our air better. Just give me a few days, and you'll be outta here, I guarantee it."
Ah. I get it now. He's whispering, so the guards can't hear him. This kind of talk could get him fired, maybe killed. The angry expression is to make the guards think that he's pissed off at me. That he's threatening me or something. Throw them off the track. Clever, Doc.
I look into his eyes, and he looks into mine. For the first time, I'm struck with the notion that I may be able to trust this man. "Okay," I whisper to him.