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Laughing Wolf. Nicholas Maes
Читать онлайн.Название Laughing Wolf
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781770706026
Автор произведения Nicholas Maes
Серия A Felix Taylor Adventure
Издательство Ingram
“Don’t give up. The doctors will help ….”
“Step aside from the patient,” the voice declared. The stretcher was only four feet off the ground and was casting a shadow over Mr. Taylor. Already both its arms were extended. Felix shifted slightly, to accommodate the stretcher, but continued clutching his father.
“Read Aceticus,” he gasped. His eyes were fluttering shut.
“I will. And when you return —”
“Puer mi, this is serious …”
“You’ll get better. Mom will return and —”
“Remember me!” his father cried.
The stretcher had landed. With mechanical efficiency, its arms seized hold of Mr. Taylor and lifted his body onto the mattress. Two bands of metal secured him in place.
“Remember me!” his father repeated, squeezing his son one final time. He then fainted and his hand slipped from Felix’s fingers. There was a pneumatic hiss as the cover drew closed. Before Felix could speak, the stretcher started to rise.
“Don’t go!” Felix cried. “I want to stay with my father!”
“Remain still please,” a voice addressed him.
Felix had to cover his eyes. A pulsing light passed over his body and seemed to ignite his internal organs, as if the beam were entering every one of his cells. For a moment Felix couldn’t breathe — he felt he was drowning in a pool of sunlight. Then the blaze quickly vanished and he opened his eyes.
“Our probes show you are uninfected,” the voice said. “This vehicle is reserved for patients who are ill.”
“My father needs me! He’ll be lonely by himself …!”
“Transport regulations cannot be broken.”
“Then tell me where you’re taking him!”
“Consult Health Services for that information.”
“That’s ridiculous! Wait! Don’t go!”
But the stretcher was inside the vessel now. And once its egress had been resealed, the craft rose quickly and fired its thrusters. A moment later it had disappeared.
Felix was dumbfounded. His father was … gone. When would he see him? He wasn’t going to …?
A noisy buzzing interrupted his thoughts. A second Medevac passed and paused above a nearby building. Dozens were now visible — they seemed to occupy the heavens. In the downtown area a siren was blaring.
Felix stirred himself. Retrieving his father’s blue book, he shot into their building and raced past the entrance. In the lobby he ignored a man who was prostrate on the tiles and being “prepped” by a Personal Servant. He held his breath as he rode a Vacu-lift and hurried down a hallway and paused before a security scan. And when he was safe inside the dwelling, he directed Mentor to bolt the doors and windows. Still not satisfied with these precautions, he ran to his bedroom and hid under the blankets.
And still he was sure that Death was lurking in the shadows.
“Felix?’
“Yes?”
“It is five minutes to three.”
“So?”
“You must step inside the Health Cell.”
“You can’t scan me with your sensors?”
“We have discussed that already. My sensors cannot screen for the virus.”
Felix scowled. It had been two weeks since his father’s collapse and the president’s announcement of a global crisis. In that interval, the plague had spread so widely that the sick by far outnumbered the healthy.
Everything had changed. In keeping with the president’s edict, all shuttles had been grounded, all Portals had been closed, and it was forbidden to stray outdoors or even open a window. That morning Felix had logged onto the WSRS (World Satellite Reconnaissance System) and inspected cities across the globe. Each had been abandoned: in New York, London, Hong Kong, and Nairobi the main streets had been empty, except for the occasional cat or dog. It was as if the planet were one gigantic … graveyard.
“Felix, it is now two minutes to three.”
“Remind me why I need to be examined.”
“Failure to submit to examination …
“Will result in immediate incarceration. So?”
“Please, Felix. I understand you are troubled, but you must remain focused.”
Felix frowned from his perch on a couch. Ten days earlier he’d contacted the World Health Service — it had taken him over a week to get through — to inquire about his father’s condition. After obtaining his father’s serial number, an auto-clerk had told him that Eric Taylor, citizen 967597102-364, had succumbed to his illness. “You mean he’s dead?” Felix had asked, his knees almost buckling. Advising him to supplement his ERR with “grief downloads,” the auto-clerk had disconnected.
Since then Felix had barely stirred from the couch.
“Felix, I must insist.”
“Are you sure it’s time?”
“My internal clock is 99.99999763% accurate. I am off by approximately one second every century. This means it is most assuredly three p.m.”
“I’m sorry, Mentor. I didn’t mean to doubt you.”
“There is no need to apologize. But please hurry to the Health Cell. If you fail to activate its program as required, I will be forced to notify the Health Authorities.”
“Fine,” Felix relented. “Let’s get this over and done with.”
With a sigh, he left the couch. Part of him was tempted to break the rules and be late for his “appointment.” So what if the authorities hauled him off? Would incarceration be so terrible, now that his father … his father …
He winced. It pained him to consider that their lessons together, their exchanges in the garden, their jokes in Latin that no else could grasp, were hopelessly shattered and would never return.
“It is one minute to three.”
“Stop pestering me, Mentor. I’m almost there.”
“I am safeguarding your welfare, Felix. Your mother would be angry if you were arrested through my negligence.”
“There. I’m in the Health Cell. You can activate the scan.”
As the panel on the Health Cell closed, and its ion shower started to glow, Felix wondered when he’d hear from his mother. Because the president had cancelled all off-world flights, Mrs. Taylor was on Ganymede still. The interference, too, had been bad in recent days and communicating with her was out of the question. After learning of his father’s death, Felix had been able to send a short message, informing his mother of the horrible news. She had been able to answer, but her transmission had been brief: “Felix, be brave. Your father was so proud of you. I’ll be home as soon as the travel ban is lifted. Try to endure. I love you very —”
Every time Felix replayed this message, he tried to catch his mother’s tears — on the hologram they resembled beads of liquid glass.
“I’m pleased to inform you that your Health Cell scan is negative. You bear no trace of the virus.”
“Can I come out now?”
“Yes. Your next test is scheduled for nine p.m. I will of course inform you in advance of this appointment.”
“I’m