Ship of the Damned by James F. David Read Free Book Online Page B

needed to be revised, not as something supernatural. To Wes, everything was explainable, and once explained, controllable.
    “Exactly, Wes, there has to be an explanation for why all these people are sharing one dream. All we’re asking is that you help us understand it. It’s something you’re good at.”
    Wes wasn’t flattered; he felt manipulated. Elizabeth was a creative problem solver, connecting seemingly random events. Wes was a plodder, systematically hypothesizing and data gathering, eliminating one possibility at a time. While very different from Elizabeth, Wes had often benefitted from Elizabeth’s chaotic approach to problem solving.
    The waitress brought their order, setting two small plates of food and a basket of warm bread on the table. Wes’s chicken and mushrooms were covered with a cream sauce, a few peas mixed in. Wes spread out the concoction,
selecting a random sample and counting the mushrooms and chicken pieces. The mushroom-to-chicken ratio was now three to one.
    “What can I do?” Wes said, starting with the mushrooms, saving the chicken as if it was dessert.
    “Meet with some of the dreamers. Listen to their stories. Give us a fresh perspective on the problem. Maybe you’ll see something Monica and I missed.”
    “Just talk with them?” Wes asked.
    “And brainstorm with us,” Elizabeth said, smiling.
    In the soft light of the restaurant Elizabeth’s green eyes and long red hair made her nearly irresistible. When she smiled, Wes’s caution evaporated and he heard himself agreeing to meet some of the dreamers. Once again Elizabeth had overcome his natural caution, and Wes marvelled at the power she had over him. Always a fiercely independent researcher, Wes’s unconventional theories had led him to be shunned by mainstream science. Yet he had the strength to resist the pressure to return to the mainstream. So it surprised him how easily Elizabeth could manipulate him. Even more surprising was the fact that he didn’t mind giving up his independence for her.

THE ONE DREAM
    Sun City, Arizona
    Wanda Johnson smoked her first cigarette when she was sixteen years old, and had smoked every day since for sixty years. Now, whenever a coughing fit took her, she talked of quitting.
    “My friend Ellie went to a hypnotist to quit smoking. It cost her two hundred dollars. He hypnotized her and told her she would lose her taste for tobacco. Know what? She still smokes. Didn’t do a damn bit of good. I might try it, though. They say some people are better subjects than others.”
    They were sitting in Wanda’s mobile home, having come directly from the airport to Wanda’s trailer park. Most of the trailers in the Shady View Court had screened rooms built off of one side where the elderly residents would sit in the evenings, enjoying the pure, Arizona air. Wanda’s trailer had one of these extra rooms, but Wes, Elizabeth, and Monica sat inside with the door closed, letting the air conditioner knock the temperature down thirty degrees.
    Wanda’s plump body shook with another cough. Her hair was gray and cut short, giving her a boyish look. She wore dangling orange earrings that looked like fishing lures, and sat in a rocker with doilies covering holes
where cotton batting poked through. Everything smelled of cigarettes; the air was thick and hazy from Wanda’s incessant smoking.
    As professional listeners, Elizabeth and Monica sat patiently, letting Wanda direct the conversation. Wes fidgeted through the small talk, when they discussed everything from airline food to Wanda’s cactus garden. While Wes acted interested, inside he worried about diverting grant funds for the flight to Arizona. The Kellum Foundation had long supported him and he wanted to keep their trust. Twice he tried to break into the conversation, to get Wanda to the point, but Elizabeth stopped him both times with a hand on his leg.
    “What’s the point of quitting now?” Monica asked. “You’re seventy-six years old.