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Terror At Visitation Lake

By W. A. Holmes

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Justin Alastair Thyme unconsciously rubbed the small scar under his chin. His left hand cradled a wide-angle lens. It was tough to decide: use the new zoom lens, or the wide angle?
GenEx Labs swarmed with media representatives scrambling to set up equipment in preparation for a live broadcast. In just a few hours, GenEx would receive a major donation from Dr. Louis Siffer, and Justin’s father—physician and senior biomedical engineer at GenEx—would be on hand to accept the donation.
Justin’s purpose in life was to capture everything on film. At home, a police scanner sat on the night table next to his bed and kept him up-to-date on all the current action in Angel Falls.
He chose the zoom lens. The enormity of the GenEx Labs reception area made it his best choice.
All he needed to do was align the red dot on the lens with the red dot on the camera body with a twist and click and the Minolta X-700 was ready. He’d saved for two months to buy the second-hand camera. He’d bought the lens six weeks later.
Tall and slender, Justin little resembled the stocky scientist he called dad. This was nto a surprise, since Mark and Jean Thyme had adopted him as an infant. Other than the small scar on his chin, the sandy-haired teen had no other distinguishing features, except that he towered over his relatives. Everyone at family gatherings looked up to Justin—literally.
Angel Falls, where GenEx Labs was located, was a midwestern town with a population of just under one hundred eighty thousand. It had been Justin’s home for as long as he could remember. With the help of his police scanner he remained in the middle of whatever excitement the town had to offer.
Of course, when he wanted an escape from too much acitivity, he turned to the tranquility of Visitation Lake. It was his favorite secluded spot, situated high above the town on the plateau fifteen miles to the west. It was also the best place to take nature photos.
Justin panned the room through the viewfinder, before everything went black. He looked up to see a rotund figure standing over him. “Your dad must have some clout to get them to allow you in here,” the figure said. It was Mike Gordon, the head of security.
“Hey, Mike. Keeping the place safe from terrorists?” Justin asked playfully.
Mike half smiled as he wiped his forehead with his coat sleeve. “Trying to keep cool. These extra people put a strain on the air con.”
“Losing a few pounds might help too.”
“Does your dad know what a troublemaker you are?” Mike shot back, wiping his forehead with his sleeve again. “You’d better not pull anything. Get that stuffy Siffer in a tizzy and he’ll take his money someplace else.”
Justin laughed. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
“Him and his donations! Ever since he reorganized the place he’s been throwing his weight around like some big shot.”
“You’ve got the weight around here, Mike,” Justin said with a grin. “Besides, you sort of owe your job to the good doctor.”
“Yeah, right. Then he goes around like some celebrity making me work twice as hard to keep an eye on things.”
“So you actually have to do some work.” Justin playfully provoked Mike whenever he could. But he knew celebrities made security more difficult. There was crowd control to consider. When everyone’s attention gets diverted to the special guest, it leaves an opening for corporate espionage or other funny business.
Mike changed the subject. “That’s a nice lens. New?”
“Like it? Here, take a look.” Justin handed him the camera.
Mike scanned the huge arena, zooming in and out as he turned around. Still looking through the viewfinder, he said, “I never see you without that ratty camera bag of yours. Isn’t it time to replace it?”
“I’d rather spend the money on lenses. Besides, nobody would steal that old thing, so my stuff is safe inside.”
“Subterfuge. Just the kind of stuff I need to be on the lookout for,” Mike said, and then he stopped short. “Better go. Looks like I may be needed.” He quickly handed the camera back to Justin.
“Be gentle!” Justin called as Mike disappeared into the crowd.
Like a den of snakes, cables of all kinds had been laid across the GenEx lobby, running in and out of control booths and equipment. This major multimedia event attracted all the national and local networks. Two major newspapers, one from the East Coast and one from the West, as well as Angel Falls’ own Tribune, were also present. Several science journals were on hand, with reporters and analysts setting up recording equipment.
Justin looked several yards to his left where one of the reporters questioned his dad.
“Sir, your name is spelled T-H-Y-M-E and pronounced ‘Time’, right?”
“Just like the seasoning, that’s right.” Mark smiled and winked at his son.
GenEx Labs was the town’s largest employer, famous for its work in genetic research and biotechnology. They had recently perfected a method to save premature babies using nanotechnology. Microscopic robots had been engineered to produce and carry oxygen to programmed destinations, primarily the vital organs of the body. It gave these babies the edge they needed to survive. What the preemie’s underdeveloped lungs could not do, the nanobots did. Justin’s dad was primarily responsible for developing this technology.
His father now worked on preliminary experimentation aimed at using nanobots to stimulate damaged nerves with electrical impulses. The results had been very promising. The primary application, repair of spinal injuries, had the potential to restore lost movement in the arms and legs.
Justin got several shots of the interior of the building. The opportunity to get inside GenEx did not come often, but when it did, Justin made sure he caught its distinctive architecture on film. The circular reception lobby was large enough to swallow an entire football field. A permit was required to bring a camera inside any of the buildings. The lobby was the only area with no photo restrictions.
Justin decided to brave the central, spiral staircase to the second floor walkway. He flung the camera bag over his shoulder and secured the strap around his neck. Then he gripped the camera tightly with one hand, the wrought iron handrail with the other, and began to walk upstairs.
Halfway to the second floor he paused, feeling flush. He took several deep breaths, careful not to look up or down, but straight across and out past the structure’s three-story glass window. Beyond it, the waters of Falls River churned rapidly. Now he was getting light-headed.
Just a few more steps and he would make it to the second floor walkway. From there, it got tricky. High above the lobby, the walkway extended north to south through the center of the rotunda. Each end connected to the central balcony, a circular second floor hallway with access to the rest of the one-hundred-forty-acre complex.
Getting some shots from there would be like winning a medal. He’d tried using the elevator but never made it to the center of the walkway. Even if he could conquer the stairs, he still had the walkway to deal with.
But height wasn’t Justin’s only issue with the walkway. It was transparent, with only a four-foot high glass partition running the length of each side for protection. Standing in the middle gave the sensation of being suspended in mid-air.
“Just a bit further,” he coaxed himself out loud.
One more step and he pulled himself up onto clear nothingness. Beads of perspiration began to form on his slick forehead and trickle down his temples. “Come on!” he urged angrily.
Holding on to the partition for dear life, he forced himself to look only at the trees beyond the river. Then he fumbled for his camera with one hand and put the viewfinder to his eye. He inhaled slowly, held his breath, and looked down at lobby through the viewfinder. Observing everything close-up through the lens seemed to make the climb less threatening. He snapped the shutter.
Encouraged, he kept the camera up to his eye, maintained a tight grip on the rail, and continued to scan the reception area below. He took as many shots as he could, feeling relieved that he had remembered to install the automatic film winder earlier that day.
Normally fifty employees manned the central reception console, including security guards and other personnel. They controlled all traffic in and out of GenEx. The area was busier today than Justin had ever seen it, all because of Doctor Siffer, their special guest.
Behind and to the sides of the console were several banks of elevators. Justin wasn’t the only person who hated the stairway. Very tight security slowed the progress of the news media as they wrangled for the best spots to set up their equipment.
Justin zoomed in for closer shots of the doctor.
The sixty-eight-year-old billionaire had earned degrees in medicine, political science, and business. An Angel Falls native, he spent most of his time traveling the world, investing in businesses and spending his fortune. He dressed with flair, sporting a panama hat, a cane, and a black cape draped over his huge shoulders.
Justin snapped another photo of Siffer, who was waving his black cane at one of the news technicians. The tip of the cane was a solid silver wolf’s head, which Siffer was using as a cattle prod to get the crewman to move. One more thrust between the shoulder blades, and the man got the message and moved elsewhere.
Justin knew very little about the doctor beyond his generosity to GenEx Labs and his temper. Siffer’s red hair and ruddy complexion became brighter as his level of excitement increased. This photo would have a bit more red in it, and Justin laughed at the thought of using a filter next time.
He snapped another shot of Siffer and several more of the river and surrounding area until he ran out of film.
“Made it,” he said as he sat down on the walkway, removed the lens from the camera, and zipped it and the camera up inside the bag. He closed his eyes, and taking a deep breath, got back to his feet and steadied himself. The walk toward the stairs began well enough, but after a few steps, a wave of nausea hit him.
“Steady as she goes,” he whispered after swallowing hard. Reaching the top stair, he opened his eyes, grabbed the railing, and forced himself to make his way down. It seemed to take an hour, but only a few minutes passed before his right foot softly touched the floor.
He sighed deeply, wiping beads of sweat, but Justin’s hands still trembled slightly. A sense of relief overcame him when he saw his father approaching.
“Dad, you’ll never believe...”
“I was watching and I’m proud of you. How many pictures did you get?”
“Almost a whole roll of the entire place. It was great.”
“Make sure I get to see them when they’re developed,” his father said. He put his arm around Justin’s shoulders and pulled him to one side. “Dr. Siffer’s here; I’ll introduce you.”
They crossed the reception hall. From a distance, Justin noticed how odd Siffer looked in his sunglasses and driving gloves. He couldn’t place the uneasy feeling his appearance gave.
“Lou,” Mark began, “this is my son, Justin. You’ve heard me talk about him...”
“A pleasure to meet you, young man.” The doctor’s voice was deep and gravelly. Dr. Siffer extended a gloved hand and gave Justin the firmest handshake he had ever received. “Please pardon the glasses and gloves. Allergy medication for a skin problem makes my eyes sensitive. It will pass.”
His unspoken questions answered, he asked, “Is it true you’re going to announce today—"
“Yes, my candidacy for governor. You follow politics?” Siffer asked. He then quickly added, “Why of course, your camera! Your father told me about your fondness for photography and journalism.”
“Yes, and-”
“I could use a local photographer,” Siffer interrupted. “An apprentice—someone to capture various aspects of my campaign. I know someone at the Tribune who would be glad to work with you. You're out of school? I’ll set up a meeting. For me, there is no such thing as too much positive press. Interested?”
“Yes and, uh, yes,” Justin managed to get in.
“Justin just graduated. Tomorrow he turns eighteen,” Mark explained. “We’re having a combined birthday and graduation celebration this Saturday. We’d love to have you join us.”
“This campaign eats up all my time,” Siffer said. “In fact, time to go. I’ll be back in three hours for the big event. Nice to meet you Justin - I’ll set up that meeting.”
With his cane held high and a brisk turn that caused his cape to rise and flow in his wake, Siffer made a hasty exit.
****
In another part of town, a mismatched duo appeared on Justin’s front porch. Derrick Cartwright and Charles Phillip Underwood lived in the same neighborhood as Justin, just two streets over. Derrick had played football in his junior and senior years at Falls High. The former quarterback towered two feet above Charles. Nicknamed ‘CPU’, Charles was due to graduate in two years, being a grade ahead of other kids his age.
“Sorry boys,” Jean Thyme, Justin’s mom, explained. “Justin’s with his dad.”
“Will he be back soon?” Derrick asked.
“Not for a few hours - enough time for me to finish setting up for the party,” Jean said, as she wiped her hands on an apron. “You boys coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” CPU said, as he adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “Tell Justin we came by.”
Derrick and CPU turned and walked back the way they had come.
“I’ll bet Justin got to meet Dr. Siffer,” CPU said as they turned down a side street.
“So?” Derrick shrugged, his new plan consisting of going home and raiding his refrigerator.
“He’s one of the smartest people on Earth.”
“I thought it was all those brains he has working for him. He’s just the front man.”
“You’re crazy, Derrick,” CPU said, shocked that someone he knew held such an opinion of the good doctor. “And he helps lots of people with all the money he gives away.”
“Leverage,” Derrick replied tersely. “And what’s with those outfits?”
“He looks sophisticated.”
“He doesn’t do anything for me, so I don’t really care much.”
CPU, tired of being on the defensive with Derrick, again, changed the subject to something Derrick could immediately latch on to, “You have any pizza at your house?”
****
“Ten minutes to air time,” A voice shouted in the bustling halls of Gen Ex Labs. In that moment the lobby reminded Justin of a gigantic, buzzing beehive as technicians made last-minute preparations.
Justin gripped a yellow slip of paper, given to him by one of Sniffer’s aides. Angel Falls Tribune appeared in bold letters on the top. Beneath it was the name of his contact, Beverly Heartstone, and a phone number. A hand-written note added, “Call her to set up a convenient time.”
The buzzing began to lessen as most of the cameras and reporters were in place and ready. Two hundred specially screened citizens of Angel Falls had been invited to attend the proceedings, with a luncheon to follow. Everyone attending knew that Dr. Siffer planned to run for governor, but few suspected he would announce it during today's broadcast. With only minutes to go, no one could find the two key players, Doctors Thyme and Siffer.
****
Mark Thyme kept his cool.
“This is not the most opportune time to learn of this,” Siffer, raspy and red-faced, barked at him. “With all these people here. And the press.”
“Not one person, except my lab assistant, knows the vial is missing,” Mark assured him.
“And the person who took it,” Siffer said sarcastically. “Are the contents dangerous?”
“There’s no danger to the general public, as long as the nanobots have not been programmed—and they haven’t. The contents of the vial look like cooking oil. It’s about as harmless.”
“Keep me informed,” Siffer fumed. “GenEx is supposed to have the tightest security in the world. A major security foul-up in a genetics lab would be a serious embarrassment for my campaign.”
“It’s probably a clerical error. It’ll show up.”
The missing vial was not much larger than a toilet paper tube. It might be easy to conceal, but security procedures ensured that it was impossible to get any test substances out of their assigned labs or anywhere near the front doors.
“My lab assistant is double-checking her lab entries now. I’ll let you know what we find,” Mark offered the enraged doctor. “In the meantime, they’re waiting for us at the podium.”
****
Despite the hours of preparation, the entire press conference lasted just fifteen minutes. Justin watched from the side of the room and noticed how small his father looked standing next to Siffer. Strangely, the man continued to wear his gloves and sunglasses for the cameras.
Siffer spoke eloquently about GenEx’s life-saving work. The man’s voice resonated, drawing them in as his cane rose and fell like a conductor’s baton. He could easily mesmerize any audience. They were under his complete control.
As Justin watched the speech, a shiver suddenly ran up his spine. His head felt woozy, like it was buzzing. The feeling passed as quickly as it had come.
“No more climbing those stairs,” he muttered out loud.
Without giving away any trade secrets, Siffer praised GenEx’s latest project. He seemed to have a reasonable comprehension of the work, which enabled him to present most of the facts in a way that everyone could understand and appreciate. Justin thought that the doctor had to be the most knowledgeable man in the world. How else could he have earned all his degrees?
Siffer presented a brief history of GenEx Labs to a group of people who already knew it. It wasn’t necessary for Siffer to blow his own horn, but it was an election year.
Fifteen years earlier, GenEx Labs had almost folded. Some blamed poor management, others, the political climate and a prevailing distrust of genetic research. The injection of Siffer’s funds and reorganization had turned the place around within eight months.
Security became tighter under his guidance. New lab protocols were established and strictly enforced to protect the work and the employees. Public safety was paramount, but the less the public knew, the better.
Siffer boasted of the company’s public relations department, which he had tripled in size to repair the company’s bruised image. Justin, and everyone else listening, knew that GenEx Labs owed him an enormous debt. The company employed over sixty-five percent of the population of Angel Falls.
“And I want to see these advancements continue,” Siffer concluded, “which is why I am presenting this check to GenEx Labs for the amount of twenty million dollars. Here’s to your future success.”
Accompanied by cheers and applause, Siffer looked directly into the cameras as he handed Mark Thyme an oversized mock-up of the check. Mark smiled and held it up for everyone to see.
“On behalf of everyone at GenEx, we would like to thank you, Dr. Siffer, for your partnership in our efforts.”
Mark left the podium with the cardboard check under his arm and disappeared into one of the elevators. Siffer remained, smiling and waving to his audience and the cameras.
“I have one more announcement,” he said, waving his arms over his head to quiet the room. “You all know that I wear many hats, literally and figuratively.”
Siffer paused a moment to allow for some polite laughter.
He continued, “Today I would like to add another hat, one which I will throw into the political ring, as I declare to you now, my intention to run for governor of this fine state!”
As the crowd cheered, Justin realized how lucky he was. With high school finally over, a major political candidate had just recommended him for a job in the field he loved. It felt as though the world was his.
Suddenly, he saw his father rush from one of the elevators, minus his white lab coat, clearly in a big hurry. Before slipping out of a rear exit, he motioned to Justin who understood to follow him. Justin left from the front entrance and ran back to the lot where they had parked.
“What’s up, dad?” he asked, as they both reached the car at the same time.
“Get in. We have a problem.”

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