Spores

Part One

Easing down on the brake-pedal of his rental box truck, Marcus Vista made the sharp turn off the interstate and onto Talbot Drive. A faded sign welcomed him and his son to Carson Springs. Roger stretched out in his seat then leaned up against the backrest, shaking off the last remnants of his long nap. He looked up at his father and flashed him a wide goofy grin. Marcus turned to him and smiled.

“You awake, Sleepyhead?”

Roger nodded. He peered over the dashboard and out the passenger-side window.  After passing several stoplights they turned into the Gas N Go station, only to find that the sole diesel pump was blocked off by another customer.

“What’s wrong Dad?” Roger asked as he followed his father’s gaze.

A beaten, rusted old Ford truck was blocking the green gun, as Roger called it, and its owner was nowhere in sight. After minutes of waiting he appeared through the station doors, taking long sips of his slushy with one hand while texting with the other.

The kid paid no attention to the truck parked directly behind his as he proceeded to pump regular gasoline into his antique. Once he had finished he hopped inside and the truck sputtered to life like an old mechanical mule. It hobbled off into the street and disappeared around the corner.

“Go, Dad.  Go! Come on!” Roger said as he unbuckled his seatbelt then leaned up against the door with every intention of getting out.

“Hey Roger, stop! I told you not to get down on your own like that.” His son flushed and gave him a look of reluctance as the truck came to a stop at the side of the pump. “I’m not joking, Roger. You know that you could fall and hurt yourself. Wait right here. I’ll get it.” After opening the door Marcus held out his hands and set his son down on the concrete pad.

Roger closed the door behind himself.

“Oy kid, you’re getting heavy!”

“I am not! Really?”

“Yep. No doubt about it. How old are you now, like forty-six?”

Roger giggled as he shoved his father’s side. “I’m six, Dad.” He held out that many fingers as if he were presenting to his father irrefutable proof of his age. “See?”

His father laughed as he ruffled up his son’s dark hair.

An early morning chill crept up on them as they rounded the front of the truck and stood beside the pump. Roger shivered from the slight draft, having dressed himself the previous evening in cargo shorts, black Vans, and a green sleeveless shirt with Earth emblazoned on his chest. Marcus faired better in the cold, wearing his jeans and a plain gray t-shirt.

There was a stillness and longing in the air that Marcus found impossible to ignore. The roadway was barren save for the intermittent rumbling of passing cars. Just another slow Saturday morning, thought Marcus, even though it was not the sort that they were used to. After all, they were driving north through California to the house Marcus had just bought in Portland, Oregon. They were on route to their new home and for a new start.

“Hey Roger, how about I fill up while you go get yourself something to munch on before we stop for breakfast. Get me a coke, please?”

“Okay.”  Roger said as he took the bill from his father.

Smart kid, Marcus thought. Roger had stopped to look both ways before dashing through the automatic doors.  Just like we’d taught him. He walks like his mother used to.  That same silly waddle of his mother’s . . .

Part Two

The truck’s windshield was splattered with a random assortment of insect-matter that looked, according to Roger, like dried boogers.  After starting the pump, Marcus picked up the squeegee and dipped it several times into the basin full of murky cleaning solution. As he often did, he started scrubbing the larger chunks to loosen them up and wiped them clean. He was almost done with the driver’s side when he was startled by a sudden high-pitched whistle then followed by a vibrating crash.

For several seconds Marcus’s mind had to play catch-up. It sounded to him like a loud squish, except that it also shook the ground beneath him. It had come from the other side of the truck.

Marcus moved without thinking. In mere seconds he was facing the source of the impact but his eyes did not focus automatically to grasp it. Nothing on Earth could have prepared him for what lay ten feet away from the truck’s rear tire.

What had crashed to the ground was a triangle, pressed into a small indent in the concrete pad. There it formed the sleek, fluorescent pool of liquid in which it lay. Marcus stepped closer, his body in shock, as he held the squeegee out in front of him as if it were a torch lighting his way through a dark cave. A shimmering, pulsing glow, similar to an aura of light, emanated from within the translucent shape. It was surreal in its unmarred design and its glowing display of light that was so remarkable to witness. 

“What the . . .”

Marcus glanced around him but found that he was the only one there. The McDonalds across from the gas station was separated by a high wall that ran the length of the lot. Roger was still inside the store.

He crouched down onto one knee and felt for the first time the heat that was emanating from the shape and realized that it was steadily dissolving like a block of ice left out on a scorching summer afternoon. There was no way that he could look away from it as it sunk into a glowing pool of fluorescent light (similar to the sheen of motor oil mixed into a puddle of water) with a golden tint and it was like nothing he had ever seen.

The triangle was soon reduced to mid-level and after a few more minutes it had dissolved away all together. In its wake lay a five-foot long puddle that began to bubble as though something were brewing within it. Marcus stood up and stepped backwards until he bumped against something small.

Roger stood there with his cheeks stuffed full of food and holding out his father’s soda.  Roger’s eyes widened as they saw the shimmering puddle. He swallowed deeply and cleared his throat to speak.

“What is that?  Dad, did it fall off the truck?  Can I s–”

“No!  Stay put.  Here, let’s get you into the truck.” Marcus then hoisted up Roger with one arm and set him down on the seat. “Don’t even think about getting down from here.”

Marcus promised his son that he’d be careful, then shut the door and drifted back to the puddle while Roger stood on the seat and leaned his head out the window with growing agitation.

The puddle was now half of its original size. At the center was a clouded mass expanding like the yolk of an egg.  The slanting rays of the sunlight were touching down on the stewing pool, causing it to glare into Marcus’s eyes. A thick purple spark erupted from the core then it was followed by another lesser charge.

“What’s it doing?  Should I go get help or something?”

“Not yet, Roger.  I’ll tell you in a minute.”

Marcus was overcome with a cold disbelief.  His jaw fell slack and his mouth wide open as he looked up at the horizon, at a sight more surreal than any he had ever witnessed in his entire life. 

In the sky he saw thousands upon thousands of shapes descending upon the city in a dense stifling blanket that covered the sky in all directions. Because of the stunted speed at which they were falling they seemed dreamlike, as though treading through a sea of jelly. It would only be a matter of minutes before all of Carson Springs was pounded with crashing shapes. 

“Oh my God! Dad!”

Marcus heard the horror in his son’s voice but it was the panic that fell heaviest on his mind. It was then that he realized that the pool was giving birth. The yolk was taking on the physical appearance of an emerging life-form.  It crunched into a bodily construct that escaped the grasp of Marcus’s imagination. Part of him screamed to turn and run, but the part of him that won over wanted to see more, to know more, despite the overwhelming sense of horror that made his head feel feint. He felt like he was there and at the same time he wasn’t there.

Liquid splashed as a result of the violent struggle as the creature evolved right in front of him at an accelerated rate. It developed no discernible hands, legs, or eyes but there was no denying that it was alive. John Carpenter’s Thing was the only thing that he could compare it to, albeit feebly. For Marcus there was just no comparing it to anything Earth-born.

It levitated itself from its bed of amniotic fluid, still dripping, before it kicked into a final transformation.  It’s mass was obliterated into a sudden blurred burst of mid-air vibrations as it seemed to Marcus to be unfurling and reconstructing itself with sharp cracking sounds into an amorphous mass three times its previous size and much more incredible to behold.

Marcus dropped the squeegee and backed away. The creature seemed to elongate itself as its kin came drifting down like bombs falling from an enemy ship.  He took it all in and wished that it was a lie or a dream he might soon awaken from.

It was not, he realized, a dream. It was happening. Ready or not, it was happening.

Questions skimmed off of his mind though no answers bobbed to the surface.  Dumbfounded though he was, there was no time left to question what was happening.  Marcus screamed inside his head to act, to run, to do something! Roger started crying and that was all it took to rouse Marcus from his trance.

It was hovering inches off the ground, displaying its final horrific form in its entire gruesome splendor. Yet again there was no easy way to properly describe it. It was jagged and bulbous and it had no discernible eyes or face or hands or legs. It was an amorphous complex life-form that, as it moved, seemed to travel through an invisible tube that governed its path. 

Had Marcus hung around longer he might have learned more about the creature’s nature or its intentions, but to stay longer would further jeopardize his and Roger’s safety. By no means was that worth the risk.

He turned and dashed around the front of the truck. The green gun was cast aside then the lid was smashed in place and the flap shut.

“It’s coming! Hurry!” Roger’s eyes were red and his mouth wide open with fear. He was rushing to pull up the window by hand.

“I know, I know, I know.”  Marcus fumbled with the keys then got the truck started.  “Buckle up! We’re getting the Hell outa’ here!”

The engine started and before Marcus had stepped on the gas pedal he saw that the creature had levitated itself to the driver’s-side window as if to peer in at them. Roger stared straight at it and screamed so loud that Marcus’s eardrums rang even after the truck had lurched forward and the creature was no longer visible.

A sharp whistling erupted from the skies. It was a collective battle cry amplified by each passing second.

With a tank full of fuel all they had to worry about was getting back onto the interstate to deal with the increasingly panic-stricken locals who had all noted the deafening scream.  Many of them came streaming out of their houses or hung their dumbfounded heads out of their car doors while still driving.

“Oh my God! Those idiots are driving into each other!” Roger pointed as multiple collisions happened around them as if they were all at the fair playing bumper cars.

Marcus struggled to safely maneuver the rental truck that was loaded with all of their belongings through a congested maze of weaving cars and frantic people screaming and running about for safe haven or some form of divine intervention that would never come.  Many gawkers stood out in their front lawns, transfixed by what awaited them.

So often that he lost count, Marcus came to a full stop in order to keep from dragging someone under his tires. Too many people were determined to get a better look at the falling shapes. Marcus drove between lanes, around wrecked or blazing vehicles.  The worst of it was when he nicked an old man in his motorized wheelchair. The man in his chair spun twice then came to a stop, tipped over on the curbside.

“Shit! Damn it!” Marcus screamed.

A clearing presented itself that led Marcus to the northbound ramp onto I-5.  Adrenaline pumped through him and his head was throbbing as his hands still gripped the steering wheel.  He had no intention of stopping until he knew that his son would be safe. This required that he get as far away from the shapes as possible. He doubted that he’d be able to outrun them.

Marcus turned to his son and flashed him what he hoped would look like a reassuring smile even as the truck wove through traffic in brief spurts as several drivers sped up while others slowed down due to the canopy that closed down on them all. The further they got the more steady that Roger’s breathing became, although he still clung to the hand rest on the door as he stared down at his feet while mumbling incoherently.

“It’s gonna he okay. Roger, listen to me! We’re gonna make it. I can do this. Oh, God damn it!”

They were closer now to the impact. For a brief moment the sun was eclipsed and in the next instant an eerie silence overcame them as they anticipated the inevitable.

The heavy blanket of pulsing shapes came crashing down upon them.

Marcus yelled out for Roger to hold on tight as he swore again and stomped down on the accelerator.  The two of them winced as the shapes came pounding down against the truck and popped open like massive water balloons. Against the accelerating truck those embryos never stood a chance.

Liquid matter smothered the windshield and Marcus clicked on the wipers full speed as he eased down on the brake. He knew that if enough of those shapes came crashing down on the truck they might eventually damage the engine and strand them there on an isolated section of the interstate where they would be at the mercy of the invaders.

Marcus struggled to keep his cool in the face of such unforgiving carnage. Sparks burst from either side of the truck as it narrowly passed between two stalled cars. Vehicles bumped into the rear of the truck and nudged up against it. The single defining blow that ended their exodus never came. At one point the truck jumped up when it drove over an unseen object and Marcus hoped that he had not just run over somebody.

There was no time to stop and assess the damage or exchange insurance information.  No time to go through the formalities of modern society. To Marcus there was only Roger and himself to worry about, barbaric as it might seem. All about them the sky was falling and the one thing that willed him on the most was Roger’s safety.

Ten endless minutes passed and they were squinting out of the fluorescent, smeared windshield that was taking less and less numbers of alien spatter. The lessening was soon accompanied by a sight more beautiful than either of them could have imagined.

One final shape struck the hood then they were gifted with glorious silence.

“It stopped! You did it, Dad!  We’re out, we’re out!” Roger celebrated by pumping his arms in the air as though he had just scored a winning touchdown.

The sky was dappled with thin streaks of clouds but otherwise it was clear.  Roger saw through his mirrors that they had managed to escape the radius in which the shapes were still falling.  Behind them the shapes were still cascading on the defenseless city of Carson Springs. That cloud of chaos moved further behind them as they drove north on the interstate.

Marcus let out a deep sigh of relief and laughed out of pure joy.  He took his soda from the holder, opened it and took a long cold drink that sent a chill through his body.  He settled into the right lane to let other escapees zoom past them. A young girl drove up beside them then looked over at Marcus and smiled. Her face was tear-stricken and her hands trembled to get a good grip on the wheel. She called out to them but neither could make sense of what she was saying.  They smiled back at her and waved, then fell back against their seats and watched her speed away, swerving a little as she did so.

Roger turned to his father as the realization of something unsettling washed over his face.  “Are they dead? We should stop everyone else from driving into it. Make them turn around!”

“We should, Roger, but we can’t.  They won’t believe us until they see it for themselves.  Somebody will close off the interstate soon. They have to. They will stop when they see what they are driving into.”

As he said it a group of four or five CHP vehicles streaked past on the southbound lane, sirens blaring, heading straight for the city that was being rained upon.

“What do we do now? Should we still go to the house?”

Marcus nodded. “We’ll drive until it gets dark then rest up at a hotel. We should be there by tomorrow morning.”

Roger was silent as he thought long and hard about how to pose the following question.  Minutes fell away until it tumbled out. “Will they follow us, Daddy?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. We’re gonna get as far from there as we can. We’re safe now! The worst of it really is over.” Even as the words escaped his lips he wished that he could believe it for himself.

Part Three

They drove for hours down the Interstate. To pass the time they sang along to their favorite CDs and made a point to avoid the radio. Marcus goofed up the lyrics to songs on purpose to make Roger laugh. Neither of them brought up what had happened in Carson Springs.

By mid-afternoon the sun was at its peak, bearing down at an angle on their battered, albeit functional truck. Marcus tried not to think about how he’d explain its condition to the receptionist at the Enterprise station in Portland but the very thought of it made him smile just the same. The shapes that had met their end against the truck had by then hardened and were most likely dead. He ignored the curious stares from people passing him by. 

The two were tired and hungry. Marcus reached over to touch his son and found himself rubbing his shoulder.  He asked Roger what he wanted to eat and together they settled on eating at the Denny’s that was coming up at the following exit.

Marcus parked his truck in the back of the restaurant to avoid drawing too much attention to its condition. They stepped into the waiting area then were led to their booth. The patrons talked and ate without worry.

“Hi, welcome to Denny’s.  My name is Felicia, your waiter will be with you shortly. Please, take a seat. Here are your menus. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

The two ordered their food and waited as they sipped their drinks until only ice was left at the bottom of their glasses. They waited for somebody to come by and offer them some refills but that never happened. Marcus looked around and noticed a young couple and an older man pacing about the entrance as they waited to be seated.  Something didn’t feel right to Marcus. He decided to investigate.

He told Roger to sit tight as he went to get them their refills and walked over to the open doorway that led into the kitchen.  As he approached he heard the distinctive blare of a television set. Marcus stepped closer as he looked up at the news broadcast.

“Ándale Martin, súbele!  No le entiendo ni madre. ¿Que dice?”

The cooks and waiters glanced back at Marcus as he advanced, then their attention wandered back to the television screen that was mounted up in the corner.  Marcus ran his hand through his hair and he swore again as he saw the breaking news story.

“No folks, this is not a hoax . . . what you are seeing is not out of a movie . . . a mandatory quarantine has been issued . . . reliable sources within the government have now confirmed that this is not a terrorist attack either . . . President Obama is cutting short his trip to South Korea . . . claims that an infestation . . . footage shows a massive creature like we have never seen before, hovering miles above ground as it pummels Carson Springs with what appear to be live spores of some kind . . . while most details are still sketchy we can ascertain from our sources that the U. S. government is mobilizing its forces and as we speak . . . we are asking that everybody try to remain calm and pray for those . . . we will continue to keep you posted around the clock as we follow this unprecedented attack . . .”

Marcus gaped at the amateur footage that had been provided alongside the satellite images showing a gigantic blot that covered a ridiculous mass of land. That was where they were coming from. He sighed and forced himself to look away as he now felt sick and disoriented.

Many heads turned as Marcus sped out of the kitchen, threw some money on his table, picked up his son and rushed him out the front door without a word to anyone. Roger asked what was going on but his father couldn’t find the courage to tell him the truth, not if it meant disturbing his son all over again, so he just shook his head and pretended to be deep in thought. He took them to the nearest gas station where they filled up again and as he did so he noticed for the first time that a heavy stench was wafting from the truck. It smelled like a mixture of cinnamon and rotting fish. 

They reentered the interstate after picking up some fast food. Roger stared out the window with his head propped on his fist. Marcus knew that this was the pose he used when he was thinking of his mother.

He didn’t know what to say. After giving it some thought Marcus decided to explain to open up to Roger and tell him what he had learned at the restaurant.

“It’s gonna be okay though.  I promise you! I love you so much Roger. I would never let anything happen to you.” He paused as he looked over at Roger in earnest.  “We can drive on until it gets dark, then rest up for the night at a hotel. That way by noon tomorrow we will be safe in our new home and far away from what’s going on down south. Do you trust me?”

Roger looked into his father’s eyes, unable to hide how frightened he was, and nodded.

For another three hours they drove without stopping. The further north they got the more they were able to relax. Along the way Roger played with his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, staging epic battle sequences packed with explosions and long scuffles that culminated into long dramatic falls from high up off of the dashboard.

They watched the sun set over the western skyline and marveled as it set fire to the clusters of thin stretched clouds. Marcus half-expected to see a dark mass appear over their heads but that never happened. Roger was excited when he saw the large sign that welcomed them to the state of Oregon.  Soon after he was covering himself in his favorite Spiderman blanket and nodding off into a deep sleep.

The tall, bright sign of the Quality Inn called out to Marcus with an unspoken promise of much deserved rest and tranquility.  He turned off the interstate and parked in front of the office. He walked across the cold parking lot and booked a room. He then lifted his son into his arms, gently so as not to wake him, and lay him down on the bed then tucked him in under the covers.

Shimmering moonlight soaked through the curtains in thin slivers that fell on the bed.  Marcus held his son close to him. The world drew in around his eyes, his brain, and he fell asleep with the comfort of knowing that they would soon be in their new home.

Part Four

“Marcus . . . wake up.”

He turned over to the right side of the bed. 

“Wake up Marcus.  Come on. We have to talk.”

“Hmmn.”  He slapped his face and leaned against his elbow with his eyes still shut.  “What is it Roger?”

“Roger is still asleep.  It’s me, Marcus.” The voice was soft and familiar.

A bolt of realization hit him as if a bucket of cold water had been splashed in his face.  His eyes flung open and they met the deep darkness tinged with a crimson glare from what was the setting sun.  He turned without hesitation to the source of the voice as he rubbed hard against his eyes. He saw a thin figure outlined at the foot of his bed.  There was no mistaking the figure for him.

“What? No! It can’t be!”

“It is. I would have come sooner. . .”  Her voice trailed off as she stepped towards Marcus. He pinned her up against the wall beside the bedroom light, screaming and sobbing at the same time.  He got a good look at her face and with all the strength taken out of him collapsed on his knees, shaking and sobbing.

“You can’t be!  This is crazy! I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming!”  He repeated it over and over until it was just a whisper.  “You can’t . . . but Dana, how?”

She knelt beside him and stroked his hair.  He saw that she was also crying. 

“I know that this is hard to believe.  It shouldn’t have happened like this. I wanted to tell you. Let me explain.”

“Explain what?  We buried you a year ago!  Y-you’re dead. Dead! I saw. . .”  It was hard for Marcus to continue fighting when she was right there in front of him, as tangible as his own being was.  He looked up trembling and let his wife take him into her arms as she rocked him and shushed him the way she used to do to their son when he was having trouble calming down or falling asleep.  He took her warm hand and held it to his cheek. A relieved smile crept to her face that seemed to light up her eyes and she used the back of her free hand to wipe away her tears.

“I know. I’m sorry I left the way I did. I wanted to tell you! Listen, we don’t have much time now. I need to explain what’s happening before we can get started.”

“Started?  What are you talking about?”

“Just relax a little. I don’t know where to start from. God, I missed you both so much!”

“Tell me what happened. You died, but you’re not dead now. How is that possible?”

“I wasn’t dead. I know this is going to be hard to believe.” She took in a deep breath. “Okay, from the beginning then. . .”

They stood up at the same time.

“There is something about me that, well really about my family, that I never told you. I just wasn’t allowed to say it then.”

“What, Dana? What are you mixed up in?”

“No baby, this is something I was born into.  My ancestors, Roger’s ancestor’s too . . . well they are. . .”

“What?  What are they?”

“Aliens.”  Dana waited for the word to sink in then continued with increasing momentum.  “My ancestors have been on this planet long before humans ever were.  They found Earth when it was still in its infancy. They saw the potential in it and now thanks to them, to their guidance and molecular engineering, humans were implanted here on Earth to propagate as they have done for countless generations. My ancestors were entrusted with task of studying and maintaining human evolution in every way. We are human now too, most of our alien ancestry is lost to us now, but we still carry on the understanding that this planet, that the entire human race, has been entrusted to our care.”

“Guardians, of Earth? That’s crazy. But how?”

“It’s all here. I have the book. It gives a very detailed history of our race and its continued interest in this planet.  It’s not even the only one. Can you believe it? There are 17,646 other planets that harbor life like ours that my people have discovered and continue to nurture. Of course, each one is at a different stage of development.”

“Have you seen them?  Is that where you were?”

“Yes, but I only saw a few of them.”

“Jesus . . . you’re, but, that means that Roger is, is he one too?”

“He is.  Listen Marcus, I had to go because we had to try and stop something from reaching Earth.  We failed. It got through somehow even after we tried everything. They outmaneuvered us and arrived yesterday.  You saw them. The Spores.”

“Those shapes!  We barely made it out!”

“Right. They are a plague. They come from the furthest reaches of charted space, too far from The Source Light but along the outer edges where life evolves, demented by forces I can’t begin to explain.  They are infecting our farms. I know that sounds strange but it’s true, Earth is a farm world. They are attacking them all and we don’t know why. The spores have seeded themselves into 39 planets so far.”

“What happened to them?”

“The inhabitants were forced to, to . . .  no I won’t say it. They suffered! They were subjected to ghastly transformations. We had to put a stop to it. Half of the infested planets are dust now. The rest are on the chopping block. We didn’t realize how bad it would get.”

“Does that mean Earth is finished to? Roger and I escaped them.”

“It’s too late for Earth. More are in orbit and others are on their way.  We tried stopping them from breaching our defenses but you saw for yourself that the spores got through.  We failed.”

“What can we do?”

“There is no time to get everyone out.  They grow stronger by the minute, their numbers keep multiplying.  The Spores cannot be uprooted once the initial stage has begun.  What you saw was stage one. Their infantry will handle stage two and you do not want to see what they will do.”

“This is crazy! You’re talking about an invasion.  The end of the human race!”

“I know, but that’s why I need you and Roger to do exactly what I say in order to get you off this planet.”

Marcus stared at her for a second then let his arms fall to his side.  “What do we do?”

“There is a small planet nearby.  I have a transport set up for you and other relatives to get you to safe ground.  I have made all the arrangements. A man named Caper will be waiting for the two of you at your new house.  It’s not too far from here so it shouldn’t take you too long. He will take you to the launch site. Do everything that he says, Marcus.  I can’t risk losing either of you.”

“Like we lost you.”

“Yes.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t tell you and I had hoped that it was for the better, in case I didn’t make it back alive.  I love you both so much. It was not easy.”

Dana stood up and sat on the bed next to Roger.  She cried over him then hugged him without waking him.  Roger smiled, as though he knew that his mother was beside him.  She kissed his head and then turned and stood in front of Marcus.  “I love you so much but now I have to go back.”

“No, come with us.  We don’t know what we’re supposed to do.  I just, I don’t wanna lose you again!”

“You won’t.”

“You’ll be all right?  Promise me you will come back to us.”

Dana pressed her body against his and gave him a long hug, then whispered into his ear, “I promise.”  She kissed her husband for the first time in a long time. His mind screamed in excitement. His head reeled in a joyous vortex that brought about fresh tears.  Marcus never wanted to let her go again, but he did, trusting that she would do her best to come back to them.

“I have to run.  There are some errands that I have to do before I join you on Vibrock.  That’s the name of the planet where you’ll be going, by the way. I love you, Marcus.  Take care of each other.”

Dana kissed her husband and her son one final time then opened the hotel door and disappeared behind it. Marcus listened to her footsteps echoing out in the walkway until they had faded into nothingness. On the dresser lay a thick leather-bound book that Dana had left for him. He stared down at it for a long time then picked it up.