Blood Pact

here. And here.”

    Donald leaned over the doctor's shoulder and squinted down at the wide ribbon of paper. "Electronic belching," he declared, straightening. "And after thirty hours of this-is-your-life, I'm not surprised.”

    "You may be right, Donald." Dr. Burke lightly touched each peak, a smile threatening the corners of her mouth. "On the other hand, we might actually have something here. Catherine, I think we should open the isolation box.”

    Both grad students jerked around to stare at their adviser.

    "But it's too soon," Catherine protested. "We've been giving the bacteria a minimum of seventy-two hours . . .”

    "And it hasn't been entirely successful," Dr. Burke broke in. "Now has it? We lost the first seven, number eight is beginning to putrefy, and according to this morning's samples, even number nine hasn't begun any cellular regeneration in muscle tissue. The near disaster with number five proved that we can't continue isolation much past seventy-two hours, so let's see what happens when we cut it short.”

    Catherine ran her hand over the curved surface of the box. "I don't know . . .”

    "Besides," the doctor continued, "if these spikes do indicate independent brain wave activity, then further time in what is essentially a sensory deprivation chamber will very likely . . .”

    "Squash them flat.”

    The two women turned.

    "Inelegant, Donald, but essentially correct.”

    Pale eyes scanned the array of hookups: monitors and digital readouts and one lone dial. "Well, except for the continuous alpha wave input, she isn't actually doing anything in there," Catherine admitted thoughtfully.

    Dr. Burke sighed and decided, for the moment, to let Catherine's terminology stand. "My point exactly. Donald, if you would do the honors. Catherine, keep an eye on things and if there are any changes at all, sing out.”

    The seal sighed open, the hint of formaldehyde on the escaping oxygen-rich air surely an illusion, and the heavy lid rose silently on its counterweights. The body of Marjory Nelson lay naked and exposed on what had been a sterile pad, huge purple scars stapled shut. Hair, already becoming brittle, fell away from the clips that held the top of the skull in place. A faint trace of burial cosmetics painted an artificial blush across cheekbones death-mask prominent.

    At her station by the monitors, Catherine frowned. "I'm not sure. It could be a loose connection. Dr. Burke, could you please check the jack.”

    Pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, Dr. Burke bent over and reached to roll the head a little to the left.

    Gray-blue eyes snapped open.

    "Holy shit!" Donald danced backward, crashed into number nine's box, and clutched at it for support.

    Dr. Burke froze, one hand almost cradling the line of jaw.

    One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. An eternity.

    As suddenly as they opened, the eyes closed.

    Her view of the body blocked by equipment, Catherine ignored Donald's outburst, in her opinion they came too often to mean anything, and sighed. "Just a wiggle. Probably something in the wire.”

    "In the wire!" The stethoscope around Donald's neck swung in a manic arc. "We didn't get a wiggle, partner, we got recognition.”

    "What?" Catherine shot to her feet and stared from Donald to Dr. Burke. "What happened?”

    "We opened the lid, she opened her eyes, and bam!" Donald punched at the air. "Just for an instant, she knew who was standing over her. I'm telling you, Cathy, she recognized Dr. Burke!”

    "Nonsense." Dr. Burke calmly checked the implant before straightening. "It was an involuntary reaction to the light. Nothing more." The peeled gloves slammed into the garbage. "Switch off the oxygen supplement, we've only got three full tanks left and I'm not sure when we can get more from the departmental supplies, and run a complete check on the mechanicals. Draw the usual samples.”

    "And the alpha waves?”

    "Keep recording." A little pale under the glare of the fluorescents, Dr. Burke paused at the door. "But at the first sign of any agitation, cut the power. I have things to catch up on, so I'll see you both later.”

    Catherine's puzzled gaze traveled from the lab door to Donald.

    "Sure as shit looked like recognition to me," he repeated, wiping his palms on his pants. "I think the good doctor's spooked and I don't blame her. Spooked me, too, and I barely knew the woman.”

    Catherine chewed her lip. "Well, it didn't register electronically.”

    He shrugged. "Then