LAND OF THE GIANTS

 

“Deadly Dreams”

 

by Cindy D. Baker

 

 

 

Steve Burton, his uniform jacket draped on a knob on a nearby root, stopped to wipe the sweat off his brow, being careful not to stain his tee-shirt with his grease-smeared arms.  Hearing a bird twitter, he looked up with heightened suspicion.  The rays of the summer sun cut through the giant forest’s thick canopy of branches and other than the bird, there was no new evidence of approaching danger.  Steve relaxed, his eyes wandering over their meager camp, settling on Spindrift, the small, dented, metallic spaceship they had called home for the past two years.

During those months, Spindrift had been displaced several times by giant hands; friendly and otherwise.  The last forced relocation had, inadvertently, been an advantage for the little people for the ship was now snuggled among the intertwining roots of a young tree.  Not only did the tree’s lower branches give extra coverage to the spaceship and its immediate encampment, but the other ground foliage so did as well.

The cot and bunk beds were built in between the roots next to the ship, affording extra protection from wind and rain.  The strandees were then able to drape a large cloth from Spindrift, over the beds, where it was attached to erected poles, thereby covering a small alcove.   Here, in what Valerie had dubbed “the lounge,” they could, along with a permanent fire, now keep what little furniture they had built, with less fear of discovery from passing enemies.

Wrinkling his nose at the smell of burnt olive oil, Steve looked down at the barrel-size engine in front of him.  He and Mark had discovered a lubricating substance a week ago when they were out hunting for pliable metal for Spindrift’s repairs. He hadn’t thought anything of it, but Mark had been ecstatic. “We’ve been here long enough where all the seals and engine parts could stand a thorough soaking,” he’d told him.  Burton hadn’t argued.  As captain of the marooned space vessel, Steve was willing to try and, or do anything if it meant getting his charges back to Earth safely.  Including being forearm-deep in a smelly, slick substance.

A deep sigh came from the person sitting not far from him. Steve, hiding a satisfied smirk, turned to Valerie Ames Scott.  Back on Earth, she was a rich, jet-setting socialite who got her way every time she wanted something.  What she had craved most was excitement, although Steve knew landing on a humongous planet with its equally-proportioned dangers was not what she had had in mind. Yet from hour one of their crashing, she had pulled all of them into numerous life-threatening situations. Ultimately, after a year and a half of being chased, caught, caged and almost stepped on, she had finally learned to obey orders and stay close to the ship.  At least, that’s what they had thought.

Several weeks ago she had snuck out in the middle of the night to go take a bath at the waterfall.  “I was only thinking of you, Steve, and the other men,” she replied sweetly afterwards, batting her long, dark eyelashes, “having to sit there and guard me while I swim naked in the pond.  After all it has been a while….”       

The memory of that day still made Steve clench his teeth in anger and annoyance. Yes, it had been a while since any of them had had sex, and there was no doubt about Valerie being a beautiful, attractive women with her big, blue eyes and auburn hair, but—Steve shuddered.  He did every time he thought about the aftermath and how close Valerie had come to being dinner for an owl who had targeted her.  If Betty hadn’t alerted them, Val, in all probability, would be dead.

Hence her punishment and strict limitation to camp, which, in Steve’s opinion, she was getting off easy.

“How’s it going?” Steve asked as nice as possible, while deep down inside delighted by her misery. 

“Fine,” she replied, her eyes bleary, her chin resting on an upraised hand while she mindlessly, with  the other hand, stirred a wooden stick in the soft goo bubbling in a pot over a fire.  “It’s reaching its pouring stage, which should be in about ten minutes.”

“Good.”  Steve didn’t turn away.  Still fearful for her well-being, and unable to get the horrible picture out of his head, he was about to lecture her again when voices beyond her at Spindrift’s hatch, drew his attention.

“It’s been too long, Mark. We need to consider it,” he heard Betty saying. Elizabeth Anne Hamilton had been the unlucky stewardess assigned that day to Sub-orbital Flight 612 from Los Angeles. to London.  Thin as a willow, blonde and pretty, Steve had worried about Betty’s survival, but his concern was short-lived when she revealed a spine of steel, and a comforting, motherly-type disposition that could—and had—reasoned the men out of many volatile arguments, as well as softened the hardship of their overall stay there. He also considered her, after Dan, the most dependable person in camp.

“For once I agree with you,” Mark replied.  He was carrying the two thimble buckets while Betty held the shoulder pole.  The buckets would be attached after they got to the recovery site, but for now, it was easier, safer, and quicker to transport the items separately.  Mark Wilson had an eminent gift for engineering, absorbing its technical facts like most people drank water.  Being born dirt pour hadn’t hampered his talents any.  Starting his own company by the time he was seventeen, he increased his holdings to seven by age twenty-four; amassing with it a pride and ego that rivaled Valerie’s.  But he too had changed, having been brought down a few pegs, or as Dan called it “humanized,” by having to think of others, and work as a team for the first time in his life.

“Hey,” Steve greeted as they approached.

“We’re going for more oil,” Betty announced with a lopsided, yes-I-know-it’s-obvious type of grin.

“Great! We can use all the grease we can get.” Steve shot a quick look at Val, whom he knew would be pouting. She was.

“Need any help?” Val asked, right on cue, hopping from her perch with a hopeful, pleading smile. “I’d love to go!”

His expression stern, Steve pointed to the pot.  “Sit and stir.”  There was no joking in his command.

“But Skipper...”

“You’re not going anywhere.  Not with those giant campers close by and the grappling hook broken.  We’ve no way to rescue you should you get caught, and I’m not taking any chances.  Sit!”

“Aye, aye, Captain Queeg.”  Her pout again in place, she sat down hard.  Snatching up the stick, she  resumed her stirring, ignoring the others as she glared angrily at the pot.

Knowing what she was thinking, Steve’s eyes narrowed.  “You even think of leaving this camp, I will personally tie you up and lock you in the closet!”

Her escape plans busted, Valerie’s taut face softened in resignation as she shifted the stick from one hand to the other.

Behind the two, Betty and Mark exchanged amused glances.  This wasn’t the first time she’d been in trouble with Burton, but she was here, safe and alive and for that they were glad.  As annoying as Val could be sometimes, she could also be a lot of fun, adding a charge to the otherwise monotonous days.

“How much did you get done inside,” Steve asked, nodding toward the ship.

“All the main seals around the hatches,” Betty told him with a pleased grin, “including the cargo bay.  That was the easy part.”  Betty, although blessed with the patience of a saint, was never long for sitting. She always managed to find something that needed to be done around camp, nor was she afraid to tackle some of the more difficult, and dirtier, challenges. 

“The rest of the ship will be trickier,” Mark continued, “but doing this was necessary, and it happened at a good time.  The cargo seal was starting to crack.  Had we entered space the way it was…”

“The seal could have blown out all together,” Steve said, his throat tightening.  “Well, then,” he gave them a impish grin, “I guess it’s a good thing then we found that stuff.  Just be careful, okay.”

“We will,” they called over their shoulders as they disappeared into the stems, leaves, and sprigs of the undergrowth.

-/-/-

Three hours later and two miles down the trail, their task finished, Betty and Mark were on their way home. The two buckets, filled to capacity, were now suspended from the bar strung across the shoulders of the two gatherers.

“Hold up,” Mark gasped behind her, “my arm’s cramping up.” 

They lowered the giant thimbles without spilling a drop.  Mark, perching himself on a nearby rock, stretched out his arm, and began to massage it. 

Betty, her nurses training kicking in, stepped behind him. “How much more do you think we’ll need, Mark?” she asked, taking over the kneading process.

“For now, I’d say only three more bucketfuls.  That should be enough to lubricate the entire—” Mark froze, his intense expression matching Betty’s. Both had heard the rustling and breaking sounds that could only be made by an approaching giant. 

“We’re too exposed here, we have to get off the trail,” he urged, coming to his feet.  With their lives endangered, they wasted no time moving away from the well-worn animal run and deeper into the brush. 

They hadn’t gone far when both heard the loud twang.  Nor was there time to react as the fine wire-meshed net flared up around them.  Pulled off their feet as the trap lifted them high off the ground, their bodies twisted and tangled, Betty screamed, pushing air out of her petrified lungs.

“You okay?” Mark asked a moment later, trying to forget his spinning head and flipping stomach over the bounce-jolt of their enmeshed cage.

“I’m not hurt, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said, in between deep breaths, her fingers digging into his arm..  “But if this thing doesn’t stop movin’, I’m gonna be sick!”

Further thoughts and comments were obliterated by the appearance of a giant with slicked-down black hair and dressed for the woods in a bright blue flannel shirt over a white tee-shirt. Donning a big grin, he reached upwards above his head for the support rope, which brought the net to a jarring halt.  Peering in, his huge, rounded eyes were barely level with the bottom of the net. 

As their stomachs and minds recovered, fear and anger began to seep in.  Mark looked at Betty and she at him.  “Can you get to the radio?” she whispered, hope in her voice.

“No.  It’s pressed between my back and the net.”

Gawking at his catch, the man beamed, his smile getting bigger.  “You’re not what we were after,” he ogled, “but you’ll do.  Oh, how you’ll do!”

Unhooking the trap, the stocky man carefully lowered his prize, hurrying away.

Not far from Mark and Betty, other members of their team were also making their way along the trail. 

“How much farther is it to camp?” Fitzhugh demanded of the black man in front of him, “I can’t carry this much further.” 

His gray jacket slung over his shoulder and carrying two new giant safety pins as well as the razor-hatchet, Dan Erickson purposely—as he had for the past hour—ignored the whining from the older man.

“Mr. Fitzhugh,” Barry sighed, his demeanor that of a patient parent to a disruptive child, “Dan, told you a few minutes ago it was about a hour to home.”  At age twelve, Barry Lockridge was the youngest of the Flight 612 strandees, yet was more mature then his unlikely best buddy in that of Commander Alexander Fitzhugh.  Barry, raised in a military family, had immediately befriended the “commander” within hours of the crash.  Although disappointed that Fitzhugh had been nothing more than a con man impersonating an officer, the boy had urged Fitzhugh to find the courage Barry alone knew the man possessed.  To everyone’s jaw-dropping astonishment, Fitzhugh had, coming to the rescue in a desperate situation.  By saving the lives of his companions, he had won the admiration of the young boy he now beheld as a little brother.

But there times when even Barry’s endless patience was pushed to the limit.  “It’s really not that long, Mr. Fitzhugh,” he explained.  “Not when you think about something else as we walk.”

“It’s hard to think about anything when my arms feel like they’re being pulled out of their sockets!” 

During their food search, the trio had stumbled onto an old handkerchief.  It was size of a tarpaulin that would cover a small boat, and for the “little people” it was a gift from God.  It would be used for many things, including and especially the gathering of food. With everything being oversized in this world, food, even though it lasted longer, no matter how small the amount, could be bulky and heavy to carry.  Peas were the size of melons, eggs like small boulders, cookies almost the size of a twin bed, and grapes larger than basketballs. With proper nourishment hard to come by, they were reluctant to leave any morsel behind yet had to do so on more than one occasion; the food being gone when they had returned.  With the handkerchief, they would be able to devise a carrier to take back to camp as much food as they were able.  

For right now, the cloth was strung between Fitz and Lockridge like a hammock.  Cradled in it was a slice of  apple, a giant baby carrot, and small celery stick.  It was the front end of this tarp Fitzhugh now struggled to hold onto.

“Mr. Fitzhugh…” Barry once again sighed in trying to reason with him.  After two years, he was the only one who still called him Mister Fitzhugh, more out of endearment than respect.  To all the others, he was just “Fitzhugh,” or “Fitz,” and on very rare occasions, “Alexander.”

A loud crackle off to their right made their heads whip around, freezing them to the spot.  More underbrush snapped and crunched from the sounds of someone walking through it.

Dan sprinted back to Fitzhugh, whispering, “Get down!” at the same time, nudging him towards a tree and the ground cover that grew at its base.

Fitzhugh, when it came to danger, did not need to be told twice.  He ducked under the leaves as Barry, too, swung under the cover while Dan pushed the middle of the handkerchief out of view.  Done, Dan pivoted around, dropping to one knee, his questioning brown eyes scanning the area for the giant. 

Quick on his feet and even quicker at adapting to the hostile land, Daniel Erickson came off more as a trained solder than the former athletic he was. A gold metal Olympiad runner, his career had been cut short during the prestigious games when an accident left his right leg broken in two places.  Dan, now grounded but missing “being in flight,” turned to flying aircrafts instead.  After flight school, he signed on with a commercial airline where he met pilot, Steve Burton.  Fast friends since their initial introduction, the friendship had elevated everyone’s chances of survival on the planet.

Dan, his hand balanced on the ground, suddenly scooted deeper under the branches.  “Giant’s coming,” he warned. 

Feeling the ground shake, the little people waited, each holding their breath.  A moment later, they watched as a male-giant appeared.  Silently they prayed not to be discovered. Then Dan raised his head higher.  His eye narrowed.  He had seen that look—the over-joyous look of anticipation—before. And there was something about the way he was holding his hands….

Well hidden under the greenery, the man never gave them a glance as he hurried past. 

“It looks like he’s holding something,” Barry whispered to Dan, as he cocked his head to try and see better.

Nodding, Dan slowly emerged from the plants. “Yes, but what?” he asked, hands on his hips, his eyes locked on the giant retreating into the woods. 

“Who cares?” growled Fitzhugh swatting at his dirt-stained pants.  “We succeeded in our mission.  It’s time to get back to camp!”

“We will,” Dan answered in deep thought, still watching the fading giant. “Just as soon as I see what he’s holding,” and jogged after his target despite the aggravated “No!” from Fitzhugh. 

“That man is going to get us caught!” Fitz fumed with a blustery wave of his hands.  He then looked at his buddy. 

Ever the quiet one, Barry gave him a “there’s-nothing-else-we-can-do-so-we’d-better-follow-him” shrug, then trailed after their leader.

Emitting a nauseated groan of disgust and reluctance, Fitzhugh, too, followed.

-/-/-

The forest was a favorite place to do scientific research and today was no exception.  This site, with its large tent, folding table, and complicated equipment, resembled the numerous other camps the little people had encountered over the two years they’d been there and had learned to avoid at all costs.

The giant, cradling his prize, rushed into the clearing, making a beeline to a gray-haired man at the table.

“Doctor Raggal, look!”

“What is it, Benard?” The doctor had been examining a specimen under the microscope.  Raising his head, he adjusted his wired-framed glasses, peering into the net.

On the ground, the pursuing trio reached the clearing’s edge.  Dodging under nearby thorn bushes, they looked up just in time to see their prey proudly revealing the trap to the older man.

Squinting hard, Dan leaned out from under the shrub branch, straining his ears to hear the conversation or, at the very least, to maybe see what was in the trap.

“Little people!” Raggal exclaimed, leaning closer to the none-to-happy Betty and Mark. “You actually caught two of them!”

“I can’t hear what they’re saying,” Barry whispered, shifting his tilted head.  “Can you?”

Dan, a taut expression on his face, shook his head.

At the table, Raggal sprung to his feet. “We’d better return immediately to the laboratory.  These two are way too valuable to risk losing them out here. Get the container.”

Raggal, grabbing a pair of heavy, work gloves set beside the scope, put them on as Benard pulled out a cage from under the table.  This one resembled a lobster trap.  Oblong and made of silver metal, it had a narrow, round opening on its top.   Disentangling Betty and Mark from the net, it was into this opening, the doctor slipped them through.  Next, he pushed the box to the center of the table where it would not only be safe from getting accidentally knocked off, but be in clear sight of the scientists at all times.

The table itself was located in the center of the clearing, at least five car lengths from the three little people.  Not far for an Olympic sprinter, but once Dan reached the table, there was no place for him to hide, other than the legs, as the giants were quickly whisking away everything that was stored below the counter.    

Nor was there any coverage in the space between the two points.

Dan stared hard at the men, silently calculating his chances of making it without being seen. 

“You’re not really going to be stupid enough to try it, are you?” scowled Fitzhugh.

His jaw clenched, Dan turned.  “Fitzhugh, will you shut up and let me think!” Looking back, he found the giants now preoccupied with the tent which was located on the far side of the table.

“Barry….” he said, his eyes intense. “I may not need to get close to have a clear look, but…” he pulled the small unit off his belt, handing it to the young man.  “Broadcast on the radio to see if you get an answer.  Remember keep it low, I don’t want the giants alerted.”

“Right, Dan,” Barry responded, raising the antenna.

Dan ran forward.  His eyes darting between the scientists and the table, he adjusted his course to stay out of the giants’ sightline, while searching for the best advantage point for the cage.  He paused a third of the way out.  His body rigid with concentration, he took in everything he could in the few tense-filled seconds allowed before sprinting back.

“Can you tell what’s in it?” Fitzhugh asked, anxiousness in his voice.

“No,” Dan replied as he jogged under the branches. “The angle was too bad to get a clear look.” He indicated the small handset.  “Anything?”

“No,” Barry frowned, “no answer.  Nothing from Steve and Spindrift either.”

“Something must be blocking the signal.”  Dan peered between the site and the radio, indecision clouding his face.  “I don’t know, I have a bad feeling—”

“I know a way we can find out…,” and before Dan could ask, Barry cupped his hands, yelling at the top of his lungs: “Chipper!   Chipper, where are you?!”

Panicked, Dan shoved him and Fitzhugh to the other side of the shrubbery where he uttered a silent curse and a pray.

Betty, her eyes widening, looked at Mark and he at her.  Both had heard the call. Scrambling to their feet, they scanned the area below, but could not see the others.

At the tent, the giant in the blue flannel shirt stopped mid-step causing the older man to almost run into him.        

“What’s wrong, Benard?” asked Raggal, pulling down the orange hunters vest that covered his dress shirt.

Benard’s voice was tense.  “I thought I heard someone calling.”

The doctor’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he panned the surrounding area with penetrating scrutiny. 

“Hey! Giants!” Mark shouted at the top of his lungs. “Let us out of here!”

“You!  Giant,” Betty added, having caught on.  “Won’t you please let us go?”

Ignoring the voices on the table, Raggal shot his assistant a warning look. “No one must know we have the two Earthlings.”

The two men, anxious to get out of there, sped up their pace.

Not feeling any approaching footsteps, Dan peeked out from the bushes.  The scientists, he discovered, were too set on breaking down camp to care about anything else.

“So we can go—”

“Shush!” Dan snapped at Fitzhugh.  Cocking his head and still unsure of what he heard, Dan took a several steps out and away from the rustling of the underbrush.  A moment later, his shoulders slumped, a deep frown coming to his face.

“That answers that question,” he muttered. Even from this distance, Betty’s high-pitched tone carried far. About to retreat, he stopped.  Doing a double-take, his expression grew even grimmer.  “And another.”

Another what, Dan?” asked Barry, trying to hide his worry.

Dan pointed to an area just left of the tent.  “There’s a full-size pickup truck over there…”  Fitzhugh and Barry peered in that direction, “…and on its door is a big, round, yellow circle… and inside that circle is big, black letters spelling out… ”

“… Harriman Scientific Research Center,” Fitzhugh and Barry finished in dread-filled unison.  Since their landing, the little people had become well acquainted, unwillingly so, with the facility on several precious occasions.

“At least we know where they’ll be,” Dan said, leaning against a sapling, trying to figure out the next step.  A minute later, he said, “Barry, give another yell. Let Betty and Mark know we’re here, and that we know where they’re going, but be careful the giants don’t see you!”

“Right,” the boy nodded.  He thought a moment and then, while Dan kept a wary eye on their foe, he stepped from the safety of the bushes, re-cupped his hands and shouted, “Chipper!  I know you’re here!  I’ll find you soon!”

Dan, poised to move if need be, relaxed when the giants showed no reaction.  “You did good,” he said, giving the boy’s shoulder a squeeze.  Taking a last, long look at the camp site, the man exhaled deeply.  “We’d better go inform Steve,” he said.  He headed off down the trail, failure and regret written on his face.

Barry and Fitzhugh, somber at the realization and possible consequences, followed without a word.

Inside the cage, Betty and Mark again searched the area below, but still could not locate their friends.  With the hope of being rescued diminishing, Betty leaned wearily against the wires.  “At least they know we’re here,” she said, giving Mark an encouraging smile.

“Yeah, at least.”  With a dejected frown, he dropped to the floor of the cage.  There was nothing to do now but wait—wait to either be rescued or for a chance to escape.

-/-/-

Assembled under the protection of the lounge’s canopy, everyone listened as Dan reported the grim situation.  Steve, his jaw clenched and foot propped up on the lower bunk, gave Dan his rapt attention. 

“. . . there was no way we could rescue them.  Fortunately, the name of the laboratory was on the door.”

“Unfortunately,” Steve said, straightening.  “it’ll take over an hour to get there.”

“Yes, but it’ll also be dark by then, so we’ll have at least one thing in our favor,” offered  Dan. 

“Well…,” Steve pulled his jacket off the bunk post, putting it on, “the sooner you and I get started, the better.  The rest of you stay here and—”

“—we know,” parroted Val, “stand by the radio.”  She then broke into a triumphant grin.  “And you thought I’d be the one to get caught.”  Knowing Steve’s reaction, she batted her eyes with feigned innocence.

“At least they’re not owl bait,” he said as he stepped past her to help Dan pull together the rescue gear.

-/-/-

Harriman Scientific Research Center was a plain, block-style, five story building adjacent to the city’s largest university, which was another place the little people had reluctantly become familiar with.

The office door swung open and into it hurried the two scientists.  Benard placed the now cloth-wrapped cage on the desk, pulling off the cover as Raggal securely shut the door behind them, then veered to a gray, upright file cabinet in the corner. 

The small office, besides the desk, chair, and file units, had stacks of paperwork stewn everywhere there was an open space.  Opposite the main door that faced the corridor was the lab.  Within were two long, slate-top counters holding numerous pieces of scientific equipment.

Raggal returned with a large magnifying glass.  Leaning down to the cage, he studied the two captives, his eyes widening with fascination.  “Benard, they are magnificent!”

The eager Benard moved closer, bending forward but stopped. His eyes smoldering, his mouth a tight line, he raised up.  Raggal held the instrument so close to his own face, it was impossible for the assistant to share the magnified view.  Snatching a clipboard off its station behind the desk on the wall, Benard gave the older man a heated glare before writing down what observations he could make on his own.

“They look exactly like us!” Raggal exclaimed, unable to hide his exultation. “In every way!  They’ll make excellent test subjects for the project.”  Straightening, he said to Benard, while replacing the magnifying glass to the cabinet, “When you separate them, put one in a beaker in the chemical lab.  I don’t want one influencing the other, understand?” 

Raggal then left the office without so much as a “good-bye” or backward glance.

Betty’s paled as she moved closer to Mark, gripping his arm in fear.  “They’re going to separate us!”

“Hey!” Mark shouted, his face tight with anger. “Hey you!” he yelled, taking a step forward. “Talk to me!”

Benard, his expression taut, ignored Mark like the lab animal he perceived him to be. Opening the cage latch, the assistant reached his hand in for the specimen.  Terrified, Betty backed into a corner as Mark, wanting to protect her, stood defiant.  “Will you just listen to me?!” he shouted, punching the giant hand as it neared, even though he knew it would do no good.

With little concern, Benard took hold of the engineer, putting him in a glass specimen jar at the end of the gray desk, returning next for Betty.  Frightened, the woman gave Benard quite a chase despite the confined space, although in her heart she knew it was just a matter of time before he caught her. Infuriated when he did, she bit him with all her might.

“Stop that,” he sneered as he carried her into the lab.  There, he lowered his hand into a wide-rimed beaker.  Opening his hand, Betty slipped out, landing gently to her feet on the bare bottom of the glass.

As the giant retreated into the other room, the former stewardess examined her surroundings. The room, twice the size of the office, was very much like that of her high school science lab: two slate-covered counters, sink, refrigerator, periodic table, element chart and pH scales on walls, numerous chemical bottles in different shapes, sizes, and colors, with various items of glassware, hardware, and other experimental apparatus stored in or on cabinets or corners.  The long table she was situated on was pushed into the far back corner.  Next to the beaker was a pencil, notepad and Bunsen burner.  A lone chemical book faced her, but it was propped up at a lean, bridging the gap between this counter and the room wall. 

Betty drew in a deep breath, taking her time letting it out.  There was plenty of stuff around to aid her in escaping—“Damn it,” she muttered—had she been able to get past the tall, smooth walls of the glass container.  And knowing from past experiences that there was no way to escape unless she could fly, Betty made herself comfortable on the cold, slick flooring. 

Staring at the room and the equipment, Betty felt a vague terror seep into her mind. She and Mark were test subjects, that’s what the man with glasses had said.  But a test for what? she wondered, her stomach tightening.  And will it hurt us?  Or kill them?  Betty shuddered.  Drawing up her knees, she wrapped her arms around her legs.  Dan and Steve know where we are, she forced herself to remember, and they’ve beaten the odds in successful rescue attempts before….  Betty felt herself smile.  Her friends hadn’t failed them yet, and she was confident they wouldn’t falter now.

The light of day had merged into darkness by the time to the two tiny figures reached the curb that ran in front of the Harriman Center and marked the border of the university’s campus.  Climbing up the curb’s water drain to the sidewalk, the two paused to get their bearings.

“As I recall,” Dan said, pointing with the rope, “the first floor is where the research laboratories were all situated.”

“They are,” Steve replied grimly.  His eyes were locked on particular lab, the room with its lights already on.  “You don’t suppose they’re in that one, do you?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Burton and Erickson pushed on hard, slipping past the shadows that concealed them, not stopping again until they’d reached the backside of the building where they knew the building’s drainage grate waited. 

Winded, the companions hunkered down beneath a bush by the entrance of the Center.

“We made good time,” Steve gasped, glancing at his watch, regulating his breathing.  He and Dan had wasted few seconds getting there.  “You remember how to get in?”

“Right over there,” Dan said, poking a finger over his shoulder.  Even his breathing was laborious. “Just around the corner is the good, ole drainage shaft.  That’s where I scraped half the skin off my thumb, remember?”

“I remember,” Steve said, amused.  “I never heard you curse so much in all the years I’ve known you.”
“Well, it hurt, man.”

“Yeah, but you never curse!”

“Then I would say my time was due!”

“Absolutely!” Steve grinned, even though it was too dark for Dan to see it.  A moment later, he took a last deep intake of air then turned to his friend.  “Ready?”

 

“Let’s do it,” replied Dan, climbing to his feet.  

      Proceeding, the rescuers halted at the corner of the building, acclimating themselves to the exterior, and interior of the building. 

 

      Steve, hands on hips, stared thoughtfully at the darkened, chest-high grate in the faint moonlight.

 

      “Any ideas how to find them?” Dan asked, memorizing the direction of their entry and stepping back to count the windows in the immediate row above the opening.

 

Steve shook his head. “None other than to check every room, starting with the lit one.”

      “That could take some time.”

 

      “Yeah,” he nodded, a little discouraged, “but least we know they won’t be going anywhere tonight.”  Dropping to one knee, Steve cupped his palms.

 

      “First floor here we come,” Dan quipped, as Steve boosted him up to the round, metal cover.

 

-/-/-

 

      In the office, the ceiling light illuminated the desk, reflecting off Benard’s oiled down black hair, his head bobbing as he hurriedly scribbled onto the experiment’s clipboard log all the pertinent information about Wilson he had just finished observing. 

 

      During the surveillance, Mark had remained stretched out on the bottom of the specimen container, his arms and legs tightly crossed, his expression stony, with no inkling of moving.  He knew to do so would only aid the peering giant’s assemblage of research. 

 

“Well, little man,” Benard said, laying aside the pen. “I’ve gotten all I can from you and your female companion.”  A grin spread across his face.  “It’s time to see how good my mixture is.”

 

Mark felt his spine stiffen, his pulse jump.  I must have heard him wrong, he insisted.  It can’t be time. No one conducts experiments this late at night!   But watching Benard, Mark’s fear grew as the giant leaned across the desk to snatch an aerosol can from its corner.  Popping off its lid, Benard drew back to Mark and the jar.

 

Alarmed, Mark leaped to his feet.  He can’t do it yet, his mind argued, despite what he saw.  His boss isn’t here!

Just then the door burst open, admitting a breathless Raggal.  “Have you started the test yet?” he asked excitedly.  “I got delayed by a telephone call.”

“I was just about to,” Benard replied, his slight frown replaced by the gleam of anticipation.  Reaching into the drawer, he pulled out two primitive gas masks.  Holding one out to Raggal, both men held the apparatus’ in place with a hand.

Mark’s heart raced. “What are you gonna do?!” he thundered in a flooding panic as Benard aimed the nozzle downwards. “What is that stuff?!”  Now beyond terrified, yet resigned to fate, an uncontrollable anger erupted in Mark, the likes of which he himself couldn’t remember experiencing before.  Making a fist, he pounded the glass.  “You… miserable… irresponsible… bastards!”  He continued to scream over the hiss of the spray.  Feeling the vapor, Mark dropped his head, hoping, if nothing else, to avoid getting it into his eyes.

It took a few seconds for Mark to comprehend the effects.  As it sunk in, he slowly looked up.  What happened? he asked, double-checking his environment.  Above, the scientists were still leaning on the desktop gawking at him. He took a tentative sniff of the air and smelled—nothing.  Then holding up his arms, Mark looked himself over from head to toe, his forehead creasing with bafflement.  There was nothing on him. Not his skin or his clothes.  Not even a wetness from the mist. As far as he can tell, nothing had happened: there was no smell, taste, or effects to his eyesight. Nor did he feel any physical or mental difference.  At least not at this time.

“Same reaction as the mice,” Benard mumbled with disappointment.

“No immediate reaction anyway,” Raggal replied with knowing expectation. “Let’s test it on the female.”

Hearing this, Mark’s anger exploded once again. “Hey!”  he shouted, pounding the glass with his fist.  Even if the puny sounds were heard, he knew the giants would ignore him as they’d been doing since their capture.  But it was the only thing he could do and at the moment he had to do something! “Why don’t you leave her alone!”  Betty’s blood-curdling screech brought him to a halt.  Helpless to do anything except listen, Mark bared down on their voices, hoping to catch something, anything, about her fate.

In the laboratory, Raggal leaned in close to the jar as beside him, Benard, clipboard in hand, dutifully marked down the outcome.

“No immediate result from her either,” Raggal commented expressionless, “as per our statistics.”  The little woman was looking up at him with the same puzzled expression of her male counterpart.

Benard finished scribing, dropping his arm and log to his side. “It’s going to be hard waiting the few days for it to take effect,” he frowned.

“But wait we will,” Raggal replied, looking at his watch. “It’s late and time I went home.”  He turned, going into the other room, his assistant trailing after him. “Lock up and go home yourself,” he ordered over his shoulder.

“Yes, sir,” he said dryly.   Benard paused beside at the desk, watching his boss like a hawk. “Have a good night, sir,” he called to Raggal’s exiting back. When the door closed, he scurried into his former seat in the chair, eager to jot down on the clipboard additional comments.

Mark watched him, his eyes narrowing with hate.  Suddenly, exhaustion engulfed him.  Rubbing his swollen hand, with a deep, reluctant frown, he sat down also.  Once again to wait for his rescuers.

-/-/-

The Center’s drainage system was the same as most of the other buildings the Earthlings had been in.  Rounded vents in which they could walk single-file in the center without worrying about hitting or having to bend their heads. A half-foot to the side, however, was different story.

Making their way forward through the dark tunnel, Steve and Dan found themselves at a junction.  Scrutinizing at their options, they hunched down to double-check their positioning.

“Recalling the floor plan of this place,” Steve waved in the direction they’d been heading, “that’s taking us to the north side where we want to be.  But by my reckoning, this isn’t even close to the front of the building.”

“Ah huh,” Dan agreed, in deep thought.  “We have to turn left somewhere, but this is just too soon.”

Steve cocked his head.  “Wouldn’t hurt to check it out though.”

“I’m with you.”  Dan followed Steve, being careful not to ding his head on the oval ceiling.  “A second escape route is always a good plan.”

They moved inward a few feet to the grate.  There, they stood upright.  Their necks even with the opening, they peered around at their dark surroundings. 

“It’s a hallway,” said Dan, doing a visual sweep for future sake.  “Looks like for more laboratories.”

“The vent’s are probably for overflow.” Steve’s eyes went to his watch.  “Come on, let’s get going.”

Backtracking, they passed several more adjacent vents, but this time didn’t stop to investigate. 

“Hold up, Dan,” Steve said, stopping at the latest junction.  He looked behind them.  I’ve counted five other tunnels, there can’t be much more.”

“Well, this would be as best a place as—hey…” Dan leaned toward the left extension, “I think I see lights that way.” 

“Think that’s the room we saw from the street?” Steve asked, straining his eyes down the dark pathway. 

Dan shrugged.  “Maybe.  It’s certainly in the direction and place where we want.”  He stood, Steve doing likewise.

“Let’s just hope it’s the lab we’re looking for,” Steve said, taking off down the connection. 

Quick investigation of other connections they passed revealed the vents were part of an elaborate expulsion system. 

“Hey,” Dan grinned, pleased.  “Better escape routes for us.”

Continuing on their original trek, within minutes, the two reached their destination.

“This is it.”  Dan peered up, blinking, at the light that shone down from the ceiling fixture.

Exchanging crooked, apprehensive looks, the two drew deep breaths, then cautiously stood up.  Coming to their full height in the illumination, they again found, to their dismay, that they were exposed from the neck up.  Dan shot Steve a trouble look, who returned it with his own nervous glance. Each remained statute-still as they discreetly studied the room, including the dark-haired giant working at a gray, metal desk only a few yards from them.

Dan, his face lit up, signaled Steve to descend.  “That’s one of the giants I saw!” he said, having a hard time keeping his voice at a whisper.

“And did you see what was right in front of him?” Steve added, having a hard time reigning in his glee.  “A jar large enough to hold Betty and Mark.”

Standing, the two were about to lift themselves out of the floor grate when Benard pushed back his chair. Simultaneously, Steve and Dan dived, landing flat on their stomachs.  Holding their breaths, they looked at each other then waited.  Above them, they heard Benard get to his feet, yank open a drawer, then drop something large into it.   Next, they were swamped in blackness, followed almost immediately by the sound of a door closing. A second later came the clicking of a key, and the giant’s footfalls fading down the corridor.

Once the footsteps were gone, both looked at each other and began to chuckle.

“Wow, that was close,” said Dan, glad to be breathing again.

Steve climbed to first to his knees, then feet.  “Yeah.  Hopefully, he’s gone for the night.”

As their eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, they found the only light now was from the emergency exit sign hanging over the office entry.  But for the Earth people it was enough. 

The two wasted no time scrambling from the air duct. Running to the desk, both noticed the partially opened drawer. With skill that only comes from experience, Dan tossed the grappling hook, its curved edge catching on the exposed edge on his first try.

Steve waited as Dan scurried up the rope then began his own ascent.  Near the top, he took Dan’s outstretched hand, feeling the tension in his friend’s arm even before the man spoke.  “Steve! Betty isn’t with him!”  Steve went rigid, dread gripping his throat as they ran to the oversized specimen holder. 

Mark was asleep sitting up, and as yet, completely oblivious to their presence. They scanned the room with frantic hope, yet saw no evidence of her.

“Mark!” yelled Steve. “It’s us.  Wake up!”

 

Finding a paperclip the size of his arm, Dan rapped it hard against the glass. Mark awoke with a start.  Seeing his friends, his shoulders relaxed. “I’d almost given up—.”

“Where’s Betty?” Steve cut in, anxious for his missing crewmate.

 

“The other room.  They separated us.”

 

“She all right?” Dan asked.

 

“I’m not sure, but I think so.”

 

Dropping the coiled rope from his shoulder, Dan turned his back to the jar, lowering his voice.  “I don’t like this at all.”

“Neither do I,” said Steve, taking the rope, his tight expression matching Dan’s.

Dan watched this time as Steve swung the grappling hook.  It also made it over the lip on its maiden try.

Erickson climbed up to the lip.  At the top, his rear end balanced on the edge, his leg braced against the glass, he tossed the line below to Mark.  In less than two minutes, the engineer had joined Dan, and both were now on their way to freedom. 

Steve, although thrilled when Mark landed beside him, gave him a quick glad-you’re-safe pat on the back, then lead the way down. 

On the floor, the threesome sprinted to their second destination.  At the laboratory’s threshold, Mark pointed to the farthest and longest counter. “I think she’s on that one.”

Scouting out the table, they found a heating unit wire dangling down the far side, which would give them easy access to above.

Climbing up first this time, Steve paused, listening with intent scrutiny for any sights or sounds of an approaching foe.   So far there were none.  Satisfied, he hurried to the beaker and to his great relief, found Betty.  Within, she was curled up in the fetal position, fast asleep. 

Wearing an ear to ear grin, Steve sprinted to the counter’s edge, calling down to the others, “She’s here!”  Desperate to free her, he followed Dan’s example by using a mental clip to tap on the glass.  The resounding metal hurting his arms and ears, Steve’s concern turned to alarm when, after a succession of rapping, the woman failed to show any signs of responding.

“Come on, Betty,” he growled, swinging the clip with all his might. “Wake up!”

 

At the rope, Mark and Dan, hearing Steve’s desperate urging, felt a new-found worry assault them. 

 

What’s wrong?” asked Dan, jogging up beside him. 

 

“She won’t rouse!”  Steve lowered the clip, turning to Mark. “What’s the matter with her?”

 

“Could be the experiment,” he offered.

 

“What experiment?” Steve and Dan asked in horrified unison. 

 

“The scientists.  They never said what the experiment was about, but we were both sprayed with a gas of some sort.”

“Any idea what it was?” asked Steve.

“No. It was colorless and odorless.” Mark shrugged.  “To be honest, I don’t feel any different now than I did before we were caught.”

Dan turned to Steve. “Let’s get her out of there, and worry about it later,” he said, letting the coil drop into his hand.

“Right,” agreed Steve.

Searching for a way to reach the container lip, Steve hopped upon the Bunsen burner, but it wasn’t tall enough. 

Dan, eyeing the leaning book, nodded at it.  “Think we can push it over?”

 

Steve shrugged.  “We can give it a try.”

 

“Yeah,” added Mark, having gone over the calculations in his head, “we should be able to.”

 

Letting out the lifeline, Dan swung it over the top of the hardback, the hook catching perilously on the cover’s rim.  Dan, keeping hopeful that the hook didn’t come loose, waited as his friends took up sections of the rope.

 

“Okay,” Steve grunted, “start pullin’.”

 

After a hard game of tug-of-war, the determined rescuers were able to pull the book into very wobbly standing position. 

“Move away,” Dan groaned, his eyes locked on the hard cover.  If caught off guard, they could be squashed like bugs.

“Do it, Dan,” he heard Steve say a moment later.  Taking a deep breath, Dan tugged with all his strength. Not sure if the book was falling or not, the athlete was not about to stick around and find out.  Sprinting towards the others, he dived.  Just behind him he heard loud crash as a whoosh of air rolled over the countertop.  Rolling onto his back, he saw the book had landed exactly where they hoped it would—on top of the Bunsen, its top edge now waist high from the glass lip.

Steve’s smile was a mile-wide when he looked at the others.  “Let’s get our stewardess and get out of here!”  Giving Dan a pat on the arm, he jogged up the man-made mountain. 

Mark, in the meantime, picked up where Steve had left off with the paperclip. 

“Come on, Betty, wake up,” Dan yelled as Wilson swung the arm-length office item.  This time, the young woman stirred.  Raising her head off her folded arms, Betty looked at them and blinked, giving no degree of recognition.

“You’re not dreaming, honey, it really is the three Musketeers,” Dan assured her.   “It’s time to wake up,” he urged, “so we can take you home.”

Up top, Steve jumped down, landing beside her with a thud.  To his amazement, Betty gave no hint of being startled.  Instead, she turned around, giving him a blank, glassy-eyed stare.

Seeing her disorientation, Steve dropped to one knee, looking her in the eye.  “You okay?” he asked, his concern growing by the minute.

“Yeah,” she nodded dully as Steve helped her to her feet. “I was in a real deep sleep.”

“There’s an understatement,” he muttered.  “You just took a year off my life!”  Holding her arm to keep her steady, Steve watched Dan make his way to the summit of the tilting book.  He then gave Betty a leg up, waiting his turn as his cohort pulled her out, then lowered her to the other side to Mark. 

Within minutes, they were traversing the building’s vent system to freedom.

-/-/-

The week flew by quickly.  After a warm welcome home, Mark and Betty were more then happy to put the harrowing experience behind them, and in no time, the camp had settled back into normalcy. 

Later that night, everyone had retired and Mark, in particular, was enjoying his first real, deep—and pleasant—sleep since his and Betty’s ordeal.  At first the dream swirled around him in a haze until it slowly evolved into a solid image taking the form of Mark’s own test center in one of his companies back on Earth.  Dressed in his old, familiar lab coat and cradling his personalized black clipboard in the crook of his arm, Mark looked comfortable, confident and perfectly at home in the room filled with various electronic devices, machinery, and boards.  Before him in the middle of the test stage, stood a generator the size of a small garage.  Checking calculations against its instrument display, Mark glanced over his shoulder at sound of the steel door sliding open, doing a double-take at the oriental woman who had entered.  A beautiful woman, her waist-long black hair was in stark contract against her white work coat.  Approaching her counterpart, her demeanor warned of scientific seriousness that rivaled Mark’s own.

“I hope you find the calculations correct, Mr. Wilson.” Her voice was surprisingly smooth and gentle.

Mark looked at her, his eyes beaming with admiration.  “Linda, they couldn’t have been done better if I’d done them myself.”

“Now that is a compliment,” she said, a mischievous smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“However,” he pointed to schematics, “this notation doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s a new deviation I’m trying.  I’ll be glad to explain it to you over dinner.”

Mark hesitated, then smiled at her. “You’re on….”

-/-/-

Bright and early the next morning, Steve, sporting an impish grin, entered Spindrift.  Pausing before the cabin entrance, his smile got bigger as he rapped forcefully several times on its closed door.  “Time to get up, ladies,” he announced loud enough to be heard outside.  He then rapped again, only because he knew it would irritate Valerie, then continued on his way.

Inside the passenger compartment, a groggy Miss Scott sat up. “Yes, Skipper, we heard you,” she shouted, the anticipated annoyance plain in her voice.  Extending her arms overhead as far as they would go, she arched her back in a much appreciated stretch.  Sliding off the hammock, and coming to her feet, it was then she noticed Betty was still dozing. The corners of her mouth turned down.  With a look of regretful, Val gave her roommate a gentle shake.  “Come on, Hamilton, time to wake up.” 

Walking away, she slowed, turned around, then hands on hips, eyed the woman with a raised, curious eyebrow. Betty, usually a light sleeper, hadn’t moved a muscle, not even the twitching of an eye. 

Val back stepped, shaking her several more times. “Betty?”  The woman still doesn’t rouse.  Valerie’s jostling increased with the intensity of her alarm. “Betty, this isn’t funny!” she berated, biting her lip, in fear and indecisiveness.  Betty didn’t usually play games, she argued with herself, at least not this type.  She glanced uncertain at the hatch.  She was about to turn for help when the stewardess’ eyes flickered open.

“Finally!” She shouted happily.  “You had me scared to death! That must have been some dream.”

Sitting up and stretching, Betty’s face unexpectedly glowed; a great smile on her lips. “I dreamt I went home to my parents, and introduced them to my fiancee.”

“Ahhh,” Val grinned with a tease, “Anyone we know?”

Betty’s smile faded. “No,” she said, her forehead crinkling with bafflement. “Funny, it was nobody I’d ever seen before, but…” her smile returned, “he sure was handsome.”

“In that case…” Val took Betty’s arm, pulling her to her feet, “… next time you have a dream like that include me!”

Elsewhere on the ship, Steve, having found the tool he needed in the utility room, backtracked to the hatch where he ran into Dan on Spindrift’s outside step.  “Mark ready yet?”

Dan shrugged. “No sure. Last I saw him, he was still in bed.”

“Still in bed?” Steve gaped in disbelief.  “On search days he’s usually up before any of us!”  Perturbed, curious, and annoyed, he made a beeline to his right and to the lone cot Wilson had taken for his own.  There, they found the engineer still in bed, oblivious to everything around him.

Dan gave the man a poke in the shoulder. “Mark, time to get up, it’s morning.”  But just like Betty, it took several minutes of prodding from the worried Dan before Mark began to stir. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he muttered acidly, rubbing a hand across his glazed eyes.

“You okay?” Steve asked, concerned and suspicious.

“Just fine!  And thanks for the interruption,” Mark scowled, swinging his legs off the cot. “Not only was it the best sleep I’ve had since we landed on this rock, but it was the also the best dream I’ve ever had in my life!”

Steve, on edge since his companion’s rescue from the Harriman Center, felt a wave of relief flood through him.  It had been just deep sleep, he mentally reasoned, at the same time stunned at how tense he’d been until now. The nagging shadow of fear and wonderment evaporating from his mind, he grinned widely.  “I promise,” he chuckled, holding his palm up, boy scout-style, “next time we’ll check first.”           

Leaving Mark to get ready, he and Dan went to grab a quick breakfast of celery and carrot, leftovers from Dan, Fitzhugh, and Barry’s foray into the woods.

-/-/-

It has been a normal busy day of forging for food and supply materials.  That evening, the little people lazed about the burning wooden embers, enjoying the satisfying aftereffects of a rarely found, but much appreciated, giant hot dog for dinner. 

Everyone except the belly-aching Fitzhugh.  The pudgy man had caught a spot of poison ivy, and its itching—and scratching—had kept him (and his bunkmates) awake most of the night before. 

“Good thing that lubricating oil makes a great calamine lotion,” Valerie joked as Alexander had headed for bed, “otherwise we’d have to kill him to stop him from scratching.”

With peace in the air once more, the small group, mesmerized by the tranquil flickering of the flames, lost themselves in their private thoughts. 

Betty, also, was looking wiped out. Her complexion pallid, she had deep bags under her eyes.  Half hour later, she rose to her feet, breaking the silence.  “Well,” she said, with a yawn, “I’m going to bed, too. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.”

“Night,” Steve, Mark, and Valerie replied together, their eyes following her with concern.

“Night, Betty,” waved Barry, his hand returning to Chipper’s head resting on his lap.

No until Dan saw the cabin’s lights go out did he turn to the others. “That’s the third night in a row Betty’s gone to bed early.  I hope she’s not coming down with something.”

“It must be the changing of the seasons,” offered Mark.  “I feel pretty tired myself.”

Steve, his eyes on the fire, tilted his head in thought.  “But she didn’t walk three miles, or scale in and out of a two-story garbage pit like you did today.”

“Oh, no. . . ” Valerie sang, getting to her feet and approaching Steve with arms crossed, her sweetness merging into acid as she spoke. “Nooo… we only hand-washed all the clothes in the pond a mere two miles away; made a second trip to that same said pond where we each brought back two bucketfuls of water, then dragged home that culinary treat you just had for dinner.  Good night, Captain,” the redhead growled with a knife-encrusted smile, then spun on her heel towards Spindrift and bed.

When she had disappeared from sight, the men, including Barry, let out the laughter they’d been so desperate to hold back. 

“Steve, when are you ever gonna learn?” stuttered Dan, wiping tears from his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he chuckled, shaking his head.  “Maybe we should ask her if she’d want scout out the new garbage pit with us.”

“She’d probably like the climb,” Dan said, half-seriously.

“You’re right, Steve laughed, tossing a twig into the fire, “she probably would.”

“Well…,” Mark announced, standing up, “since we are going to do some walking, climbing, and hopefully, hauling tomorrow, I’m saying good night.” With a wave, he turned toward the shelter.

 -/-/-

Just after dawn, the sun hadn’t penetrated the forest’s covering yet and was still somewhat dark when the strandees, one by one, began to wander into the lean-to, partaking of their breakfast consisting of fire-cooked hot dog.

“Good morning!” Fitzhugh bellowed in a voice so loud and cheery, those who were standing almost fell to their knees in amazement, while others had to pick their jaws up from the ground.

“Have a good night?” Dan asked with a raised eyebrow.

“The best!” he shouted.  His grin went from ear to ear.  “I didn’t itch—and look!” he ordered, pointing to his wrist, “the rash is almost gone… I didn’t have nightmares about being crushed by a giant, I feel totally… ” rocking on his toes, he flared out his arms, “refreshed! I don’t know what’s in that gel, but my fellow Spindriftees, I think when we get back to Earth we should patent it!  We’ll make millions!” he clasped his hands in elated anticipation.

“Oookkkay,” Dan sang out, glad to have Fitzhugh in a happy mood for once.

“One thing’s for sure,” Mark said in all seriousness, “by the time we do get back to Earth, the human testing will already have been done,” drawing laughter from the others.

Betty and Valerie were the last ones to arrive.  With slices of apple in their hand, they meandered into places around the circle, all the while Val shooting troubled glances at her companion.  In the meantime, Betty, her eyes dull with deep bags, was moving like a person carrying a hundred-pound weight on her back.

“Glad you could make it,” Steve needled Val with a lopsided grin as she passed him.

“Happy to be here,” she smiled back, unfazed.

“Anyway… we went over most of this yesterday, but I want you all to remember…” Steve eyes circled the group, pausing specifically on the women, Fitzhugh and Barry.  His gaze then fell on Betty.  She had already yawned several times since joining them, “… if you do any searching, do it on the south side. Those giants may be back again.  Matter of fact, I’m sure of it.  And don’t forget the radio,” he emphasized sternly.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Fitzhugh said even louder than Barry’s loud and clear, “Yes, sir.”

“Gotcha,” Betty nodded, yawning.

Steve cocked his head at her.  “Did you sleep okay?”

“No.”  She shook her head in the mist of  yet another yawn. “All I did was dream.”

 

“Okay.” Steve understood for he had had a few nights of those himself.  Being such, he decided to let it go.

With nothing more needed to be said, The Material Hunters, as Steve, Dan and Mark had been nicknamed by their friends, gathered their weapons and supplies, which included extra rope, the grappling hook, plus a giant hairnet that worked perfect as a hauling sling.  With Steve in lead, they gave their calls and waves of good-bye, and started out on their excursion to the newest trash dump. 

This latest find, discovered only a few days ago by Chipper when the men were out forging for food, had yet to be explored thoroughly.  From short time they had had there, for the sun was setting, the area had the potential of being a miniature gold mine for the little people. 

The journey to it, although several miles long, was an easy one and far safer than most of the other animal trails.  It wound through the denser, and thereby, less used, section of the protected park property.  

Dan, swinging the hatchet up and  resting it on his shoulder, let out a sigh.  As much as he appreciated nature from this low angle, there wasn’t a whole lot to see.  Bored, he spotted a tiny bug on Mark’s back, and while debating what to do about it (tell Mark now, later, or just swat it off), he noticed something else, too.  Mark was yawning—a lot.  Not to the extent Betty had been in camp, but more than a person inhaling fresh air should be.  Filing it away, Dan made a metal note to bring it up to Steve as soon as there was an opportunity.

Coming to a grove of trees that resembled birch except the bark was dark tan instead of white, the trio stopped.  This was their signpost to the dump. Turning off trail, they went to the other side of the trees and to the steep bank that overlooked a “ravine”.  In the giants world, this was the city’s water-runoff outlet which snaked throughout the park.  For a regular-sized person this area was hard to traverse because of its intertwining vines, thick growth, and numerous scrub bushes.  It also made it the perfect dumping ground for those too cheap to pay for a service or too lazy to find one of the park’s debris cans.

The precipitous slope, at least two stories deep in Earth measurements, was hazardous for the giants because of the slick, ground-covering foliage, but for the little people it was just like climbing a ladder.

Within minutes Steve and Mark were on the floor of the ravine; Dan having stopped mid-way to investigate items several feet to the right of their search point.

“I thought I saw some stuff over there,” Mark said, pointing.

“All right,” Steve said, already scrutinizing a large scrap pile nearby.  “You go ahead. I don’t think we’ve gone through this one yet.”

Mark, heading to the farther end to see what treasures there might be, took careful note of the terrain, paying specific attention to what could be animal burrows and—even more important, good places to hide.

Reaching the area, he searched the spot for several minutes, but to his disappointment, the reflections he had seen from the upper edge were nothing more than tin cans, candy wrappers, and parts from an old bicycle.  Squatting down, he looked over every inch of the dismembered transport.  Despite the spokes and fender being rusty, they were still strong. He wasn’t sure where they could use the pieces, but he was positive they could make good use of them regardless. 

Brushing off his hands, Mark stood, then pivoted—right into the hand of a giant! Startled, he fell against the bank.  In the split-second he saw the opening between the giant’s feet; in the next, he had thrown himself through it into a roll down the slope.  But Mark realized something was strange.  He hadn’t heard the giant call out, nor had he felt any giant hands groping at him.  Below him, he felt the ground level off, and took the chance of halting his escape.  Springing to his feet, and spinning around to confront his enemy, his jaw dropped  The giant was nowhere to be seen!  Nor were there any giants anywhere within the entire aqueduct. 

Mark shook his head then rubbed his eyes, wondering if the sun’s reflection had been playing tricks on him.   Looking around again, the only “giant” he saw was the environment. 

His fears abated but only for a moment, replaced by a new concern.  He’d been suffering chronic exhaustion since his rescue from the laboratory.  Is this hallucination part of the fatigue? he questioned as he brushed down his clothes. And if it doesn’t get better, what do I do about it?  He glanced over at the man in the red uniform.  At that instant, Steve caught Mark’s look and waved him over.  He knew there was a possibility he’d have to tell Burton—but not today.

-/-/-

Three nights after Mark’s incident,  Spindrift’s small camp was again quiet as everyone had retired. 

In passenger cabin, Val was enjoying her Land of Nod when she received a tap her on the shoulder.  Annoyed, Val peered up at the intruder with a lone eye.

It was Betty.  “You all right?” she asked.

“Fine,” Val sneered, closing it again.

“Good.  I’m gonna get something to eat.  My return flight hit bad turbulence so the galley was closed the entire trip, and,” she sighed, “I now have to be back at the airport in two hours for another flight.  I’ll try not to wake you, sweetie, when I leave.” With that, the flight attendant walked away

It took a few seconds for Hamilton’s words to register and when they did, the redhead’s eyes flew open. Bolting out of bed, Valerie followed after her, flipping on the compartment lights as she went.

“Ah, Betty,” she asked with sweet hesitancy, “are you awake?”

“I’m a little tired, but I’m okay.”

Outside, the stark darkness was suddenly lit up by the faint cabin lights, waking the ever alert Steve and Dan.

“But you just said you were getting something to eat.”

 

“I am,” Betty replied, airily. 

 

Befuddled, Val’s eyebrow rose high as she watched Betty prepare an invisible sandwich.  A gleam of a thought came to her eyes.  She scooted to a new position, and now able to see the blank expression on her roommate’s face, her gleam turned into a knowing smile. 

“With the flu going around,” Betty chatted on, “they’re losing people left and right.  At this point, I want to eat something while I have the time.”

She turned, disappearing into the galley just as Steve and Dan hurried in, confusion written all over their faces. Looking about, bafflement replaced concern when they spotted a wide-awake and composed Val lounging leisurely in one of a chairs, her legs slung over the armrest.

“What’s with the lights?” Dan asked, annoyance now bubbling up.

“Betty’s sleepwalking,” she replied, like it were an every day occurrence.

“What?” Steve exchanged a look of disbelief with Dan.

“How do you know?” Dan asked.

“I had a cousin who used to sleepwalk.  And once you see someone do it, you never forget it, let me tell you.”

“Annie McGillis!” Betty yelled from the other room, causing the three to jump. “You know I don’t date pilots!”

“Smart girl,” Val said, unable to resist a smirk, flashing the men a coy smile, adding, “Present company excepted,” when they shot her a dirty look.

Dan leaned into Steve. “I didn’t know she roomed with Annie.”

“Neither did I.”

At that moment, the stewardess came back eating a piece of potato, which was found during that day’s food hunt.  She then shook in her hand, what the others could only guess at, was an invisible thermometer.  Pausing in front of Val, she ordered, “Open.”

Stupefied, Val looked at the men, who were turning red from stifling their laughter.

Inserting the imagery instrument into Valerie’s mouth, Betty went on. “They’ve scheduled me for the London run this afternoon.” She paused as if listening to a return conversation.  “Look, if you like Burton so much why don’t you take his next flight?”  Dan and Val looked at Steve, who grinned with smug pleasure.  “Oh, I think he’s a terrific pilot,” Betty said, “although a bit on the frigid side.”

Steve’s grin dropped like an avalanche.  Dan spun away hiding his belly-laugh as Valerie chuckled into her cupped hands.

Betty took the non-existent thermometer from Val.  Peering at it, she frowned deeply.  “A hundred and three.  You’re not going anywhere,” she said firmly.  Her tone then softened.  “Tell you what.  I promise the next scheduled flight I have with Burton, you can have it, okay?”

All amusement left Dan’s face. “Good thing Annie never made the flight.”  He was dead serious.

“Why?” Val asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Annie, was a beautiful woman,” replied Steve.  His reply was as sober as Dan’s.  “But she wouldn’t have lasted a week here.”

“Why don’t I ever get sick?” Betty again drew their attention. “Because I don’t stay up every night partying, that’s why.  I don’t have the time to anyway, I’m too busy covering the shifts for you girls when you’re hung over! “  Betty sighs.  “Or sick. Now go back to sleep.  I’m gonna take a shower.”

Hearing that, Valerie jumped to feet. “Fun time’s over, Betty dear, it’s time for night-night.”

“Same here,” added Dan. “Good night, ladies.”

“Night, fellas,” Val called over her shoulder. Taking Betty by the shoulders, she gently directed her back to the hammocks.

“And Val,” Steve hesitated at the doorway, “call us if you need us. Understand?”

She flashed him a confident smile. “Loud and clear, skipper.”

Steve, nevertheless, waited with hawkish eyes watching as Val lead Betty back to bed.  The slender blonde laid down without a fuss, going right to sleep.  Satisfied everything was under control, Steve left, only to find his copilot waiting for him just inside the hatch.

“Steve, we both know there’s something going on with Betty and Mark.”

“I know.” His shoulders drooping, he leaned against the wall, his voice weary.  “It all started after the lab visit.  We know they were sprayed with something…” Steve trailed off thoughtfully.

“Yeah, we just don’t know what or for what purpose.”

Steve pushed himself off the wall.  “So far they just seem to be sleeping a lot.  Maybe the spray just needs to work itself out of their system.”  He looked to Dan for feedback.  “After all, they were only just, what? two weeks ago?”

Dan nodded.  “About that, yeah.  You’re probably right.  Let’s give it a few more days and see what happens.  The only thing I want to see right now is the inside of my eyelids.”

 

Chuckling, Steve followed his friend out of the ship.

 

-/-/-

As everyone went their separate ways for bed, Dan hung back, muttering to Steve, “So far so good.”  It’d been four days since he and Steve had decided to take a “wait and see” approach to the Wilson/Hamilton dilemma.  No other symptoms had manifested itself except for the fatigue.

“Yeah, maybe that is all there is,” Steve whispered back with a sliver of hope. 

Waiting for his friend to get settled on the bunk above him, Burton glanced over at the cot where Mark had laid down, and by the sounds of it, had already drifted off.  After all, how bad can sleeping be? he speculated, lowering himself to the lower cot, stripping off his shoes and socks.

In his dream, Mark was again with Linda at the research stage, their heads bowed together as they went over additional calculations.

“And you see what I did here?” she said, pointing to his black clipboard.

Scanning the sheet, Mark looked up at her and stared.  Although somewhat confused, and a little unnerved he then smiled, he couldn’t help himself.  Not only could he smell and taste the fresh oil permeating the equipment and the room, but standing so close to her, he could even smell her perfume and felt the warmth of her body.   He knew, on one level of consciousness, that it was just a dream, but its stark vividness in the area of the senses made him feel like he had not only stepped back to Earth, but into his own body as well.  And he was loving every minute of it.

“Now if you look at the generator…” she redirected, pointing at the large, piece of equipment in front of them—but it wasn’t the generator of earlier nor even the same room. 

Mark frowned, his conscious self not understanding.  His vision had blurred, Linda was now gone, and before him was a large, orange blob.  The vision shifted, cleared, the blob revealing itself to be Spindrift.  And she was caught in the bog.  But it wasn’t a new situation, Mark recognized even in his slumber.  It was the same incident they had lived through shortly after their landing when a convict had captured the spaceship and ran, unwittingly, into quicksand. 

Even in his prone state, Mark was reluctant to relive it.  He’d never forgiven Burton for the contemptible way he had jeopardized Spindrift and their only means of returning home.  But Mark, at the same time, curious as to why he would experience it again, let the dream play on…: 

Dan had driven the ship safely out of the marsh, after which Steve insisted on rescuing the trapped convict as well.  Using the ship to offset the giant’s weight, Dan and Mark stared in agitated apprehension as Spindrift emitted smoke and the pitch of her engines reached a dangerous level.

“Steve!” Dan, yelled into the radio, “Cut him loose!  Cut him loose!”

“Ah, he’ll blow up the ship first!” Mark barked with disgust.

Next, Mark knew, the convict would pull himself free—suddenly there was a bright flash, and a roar that knocked him off his feet.

Mark’s eyes shot open, his chest heaving in fright and astonishment. Spindrift had exploded! Raising his hand, he expected to find them burnt from the flaming debris, but there were no injuries. Raising his head, he looked about camp.  All was exactly the same as when he had gone to bed. He swallowed hard.  He had experienced these Spindrift-exploding nightmares the initial time around, but nothing as explicit as this.  Lying back down, Mark calmed his galloping heart.  It had just been a nightmare. One he never wanted to experience again.  Afraid to sleep, he stared up at the stars.

Nor was he alone in his terror.

In her hammock in the cabin, Betty, too, dreamt…:  She and Valerie had wanted to surprise the fellas with a seafood dinner, and had gone to the ocean front food market.  It was one memory that would endure forever.  She, once again, was beside Valerie, eyeing a newly caught lobster the size of the toy sailboat they were hiding behind.  And yet, even in her dream, Betty was well aware of her surroundings—too aware for something that was just a dream.

Betty inhaled deeply, smelling—and enjoying—the mixed odors of drying nets, bare wood, salt water, and pungent ocean creatures in various stages of alive to decay.  But she was also baffled.  The scents were never this potent during any of their previous visits. 

Touching the decaying wood, she felt its roughness under her fingers.  She expected the piece to break off, and it did, just like it had before.  By that time the giant boy, who’d been oblivious to their presense, had already gone.  Looking over, Betty saw the giant lobster eyeing them.  This was not a surprise.  Knowing the outcome, Betty didn’t feel any need to panic.  They rushed away, but had gotten only a few steps when Valerie, just like the original time, tripped; her foot entangled in a fish net. 

Betty kept calm as she struggled to get Val’s boot free despite the approaching crustacean.  She knew, even though the hysterical Val didn’t, Steve would arrive to save her. Regardless, Betty kept working at the knots.  But each time she felt something loosen, Valerie, in her panic, would jerk, pulling the rope tight again, forcing Betty to start all over.

Looking over her shoulder, Betty felt her chest tighten.  The lobster was now climbing over the sailboat.  Tugging furiously at the netting, she glanced around for Steve, Dan, and Mark, but they were no where in sight. 

Betty heard a thud behind her, following by Valerie’s high-pitched scream.  “Get out of here!” she shrieked. 

“No, I’ve—”

Valerie, with her free leg, gave Hamilton a hard push.  Falling backwards, Betty found herself looking up at the underbelly of the lobster.  Terrified, she scrambled away—then watched aghast as the creature descended upon Valerie as she screamed in bloody horror.

“Betty, stop it!  You’re dreaming again!” But Valerie’s words weren’t synched up with her horrified cries. “Come on, Hamilton, you’re scaring me now,” Val shouted, loud and persistent. “Open your eyes, girl!”  Betty fought to obey.  She world spun, turned blurry, then the screaming Valerie was replaced by a hazy, but definitely grinning, redhead in front of her. 

 

“Valerie!” Betty clamped Val’s wrist in a death-grip.  “You’re alive!” she gasped, tears falling as she looked over her roommate in disbelief and suspicion. “Are you okay?”

 

“I am, but are you?”  Frightened to the core, Val sat next to her, covering Betty’s hand with her own.  “You were tossing and turning so hard I’m surprised you didn’t fall out of the hammock!  What were you dreaming about?”

 

Betty closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath.            “The incident at the dock when you got your foot caught in the net.”  Opening her eyes, she looked up, her face sad, and voice cracking as she said, “Only this time Steve didn’t arrive to save you.”

 

“So this time I really was the dinner, eh?  Talk about my worst nightmare almost coming true.”  The corners of her mouth turned down at the disturbing thought, she then forced it into a grin.  “I’m safe so try to go back to la-la land, okay.  And no more nightmares?”

Betty gave her a weak smile then turned over on her side. 

Satisfied that Hamilton was at least trying, Val returned to her own dreamland.

Betty, however, unseen by her bunkmate, was wide awake, staring out the viewport.

Early the next morning, Steve was washing up at the acorn bowl.  Not far from him at the smoldering fire, Dan, Fitzhugh, and Barry were sitting around talking as Barry tossed a crude ball for Chipper to fetch back to him. All four looked drawn and tired.  Without so much as a “good morning,” a just as wrung-out Valerie marched passed them to the washstand, announcing in no uncertain terms, “Steve, we gotta talk.”

Steve’s head whipped around, his expression one of shock.  In the months he had known the flippant Scott, it was rare for her to be so dead serious. Her being such now, shot fear down his spine. “About what?”

“Betty.  I’m worried about her.  First, it was sleepwalking, now it’s nightmares and tossing and turning in her sleep all night.”

“How long has this been going on?” Steve’s forehead crinkled in thought.

“Only about a week, but I don’t think she’s gotten any rest in that entire time.”

Unsure as to what to do, Steve looked at Dan, who’s somber expression matched his own. 

“Mark’s been doing a lot of tossing and turning of late,” Dan admitted, keeping his voice low.

“I’ve noticed,” Steve nodded.  “Have any of you seen him sleepwalking?” He scanned those present.

Thinking it over, Dan shook his head.  “I haven’t.”

Valerie, too, shook her head. “No.”

“Not I,” replied Fitzhugh.

“I have,” announced Barry, to everyone’s surprise.

Stunned, Steve and Dan both straightened. “When?” asked Steve.

“A few nights ago.  He went over to the rock and sat down.  It looked like he opened up his briefcase, but I didn’t see it.  I thought I was the one dreaming.”

Dan’s brow folded.  “Now that you mention it, I remember that.  Being so tired myself I didn’t pay it any attention.”

“What do you think it is, Steve?” demanded Valerie.

“I don’t know.” His reply was quiet.  It usually was when he processing important information.

“It could just be stress,” offered Fitzhugh. “Those on the verge of a nervous breakdo—” he hesitated, glancing at Barry, “… under extreme stress tend to exhibit that type of behavior.  It also induces a lot of extra sleeping, which, if you’ve noticed, they’ve been doing a lot of as well lately.”

“Question is,” spoke Dan, “what do we do about it?  What can we do?” His gaze fell to Steve.

Steve was stymied for an answer.  This wasn’t the first time, nor, he knew, would it be the last.  But the others were depending on him for a solution and he couldn’t let the others know he was at a loss.  Burying his own fears and helplessness, he put as much confidence as he could behind the only reasonable idea he had at this time.  He raised his chin.  “We go to the pharmacy, we look up the symptoms in one of their medical journals, then go on from there.  But first, over the next couple of days, I want all of us to keep an close eye on them, noting what other odd behavior they may be exhibiting.”  He let his hands drop to his side.  “And like Fitzhugh said, it might just be the stress they’re under….”

Throughout the day, everyone did as Steve had ordered, noting every discrepancy in Mark and Betty’s behavior.  It wasn’t hard.  The two, although conscious, were slow to respond, talked almost nil, and looked as if they were in a daze.  And they yawned a lot.  In their exhausted state, neither seemed to notice they were being studied.

Come the evening, Betty, exhausted, at the same time afraid to put her head down, stayed up as late as she could. 

“Betty, you all right?” Steve had asked, showing no inclination of leaving.  “You never stay up this late.” 

“Fine, Steve.”  She gave him her cheeriest smile.

“So how long have you been sleepwalking….”

Even though he had tried to make it like idle conversation, Betty knew he was prompting her with questions for a reason.  But she couldn’t tell him.  She didn’t want to add more to his already overwhelming burden.  Moments later, she announced she was going to bed.

Initially, her slumber was restful, but soon she found herself on an undamaged and in flight Spindrift.  Dressed in her formal gray and yellow uniform, around her were the four passengers she had come to know intimately over the last many months.  They, too, were the exact way they had looked and were dressed on Flight 612’s original take-off. 

Betty remembered—no, she suddenly realized—she could smell the plastic from the new, week old chairs contrasting with Miss Scott’s expensive perfume.  The spaceship dropped, causing her stomach to fall with it. Betty’s body went rigid with fear.  She knew she was in a dream, and yet she was feeling every jolt, twist, and yaw the ship made.  Then she saw Valerie and her blood went cold.  Valerie had her mink coat on—Val hadn’t put it only until after the first landing on the planet.  Steve had yelled for everyone to take their seats, “We’re taking off!” she recalled him shouting.  After getting the others into their seats, she had gone to the cockpit where she hung onto the safety handle, stunned in disbelief as the pilots fought to get free from a giant boy.  Once out of his giant hands, Steve had ordered her back to the cabin.

Gripping the armrest till her fingers hurt, Betty swallowed hard.  That day they had landed twice, safely, so why—there was no time for her to scream as Spindrift’s front collapsed towards her, annihilating everything and everyone in its path.

Betty awoke gasping, her lungs constricted as if it had been crushed.   Peering around the cabin, she found Spindrift safe, sound, and whole.  Bile rise in her throat.  Covering her month and forcing it down, she gave a listen to the room, but heard no movement from Valerie.  Glad she hadn’t been loud enough in her distress to disturb her, Betty, as quiet as she could, slithered out of the hammock.   

Slipping outside, she walked a safe distance away before collapsing under a tree.  As she wiped away the tears, she gazed upward at the sky, not knowing that only a few yards away, Mark Wilson was doing the same thing.

-/-/-

The strandees were assembled round the lean-to for the morning’s scheduled briefing. 

“We’ll be at the Trash Site F,” Steve was explaining. “We haven’t been there in over a month so it’s time to go back.” He shrugged.  “Don’t know if we’ll find anything, nor how long it’ll take us to get it back here, even if we do.”

“Site F, that’s the one next to dirt road, right?” asked Barry.  He was brushing Chipper, who laid contentedly on his lap.

“Right,” nodded Steve, openly pleased.  Sometimes the boy was more astute than some of the adults. “So don’t expect us back till tomorrow.  And you know the rules.”

“Stay close to the ship and leave the radio open,” Valerie answered with a bored sigh.

“Very good,” Steve said sarcastically, softening it with an appreciative smile, “you’re learning.”

Val rolled her eyes, looking away, missing as Burton broke into an amused grin.  He then turned to Dan, Mark, and Fitzhugh. “Ready?”

The men, with a nod, picked up their gear and headed out.  As they passed into the forest, Valerie couldn’t resist yelling after them, “Happy hunting!”

-/-/-

Trash Site F, as Steve had labeled it, was beyond the forest’s perimeter, on the far side of a guttered, dirt throughway that was little used by anyone except the park’s maintenance crew.   This scrub-brushed land was the borderline to the city limits.  A sparse region of growth overlapped both sides of the road,  including the section where the foursome stood.  In the open and clearly visible, it also made them vulnerable.   The dump itself was littered along the road for about a mile, and looked to be the park’s personal refuge area. It, too, was out in the open.

From the forest boundary, the three men scrutinized their descent route.  Originally, to put in the frontage road, the builders had to cut into the hill, and for whatever reasons, no support barrier had been put up.  This left the newly excavated terra firma exposed to the elements.  The soil, worn away over the years, was fragile and ready to collapse at any moment.  The only thing holding the story-high bank up were the tree roots and a few stray plants that had managed to get a foothold on the wall.

“Doesn’t look like anybody’s been around in a while,” Dan remarked, straining to see down the road, and any vehicles that may be approaching.

“That’s what we liked about this area,” grinned Steve.  “It was desolate.”

“More like shooting ducks in a barrel,” Fitzhugh groused, eyeing the open terrain over which the others would have to cross.

“That’s why you’re on lookout, Fitzhugh,” Mark said, shoving the improvised telescope into his hand.  “This time, make it loud.” He glared, his words having a distinct warning in them.

Fitzhugh looked away, fumbling with the scope as a pale redness came to his cheeks. He then lifted his chin.  “I shan’t fail you, Mister Wilson.”

“Better not,” he returned curtly, following Dan and Steve down the rope.

The hunt held promise as Dan immediately found several remnants of galvanized metal sheets used for roofing tool sheds, storage buildings, and commercial warehouse. Although light, and little better the length and width of the little people, it still needed to be transported up to where Fitzhugh was keeping outlook.

“No way could any of us climb up carrying those things,” Dan voiced for them all.  After several minutes of debate they decided the easiest way was to knock a hole into the sheets, then tie it to the rope.  While Mark continued searching, Steve and Dan did the hole punching.  The task was loud, at least to the little people; the two pausing on occasion to wait for a “discovered” sign from Fitzhugh; their fears alleviated when there was none.

The heart-stopping chore done, the spare rope was tied to the metal, then carried up to the ridge.  While Mark kept watch at the bottom, Steve and Dan pulled from the top.  Halfway up, to their fearful dismay, a slight breeze had started up, causing the pieces to clang against each other like a chime in the wind.

“If we’re gonna do this and get away with it, we have to pull fast!” Dan urged.

“I’m with you,” Steve replied, already picking up pace to match his partner’s.

“Can’t you quiet them,” Fitzhugh demanded from behind them.  “I’ve heard fire sirens that didn’t make as much noise!” 

“We would if we could, Fitzhugh!” Dan yelled back, not breaking rhythm.  “If you know how, you tell us!”

Groaning in disgust, Fitzhugh’s nervous pacing increased, going from the bank’s rim, halfway to the edge of the forest, and back again.

The two pilots pulled the metal over the edge, dropping it with glee. 

Hand on hips, Dan looked down with admiration.  “I never thought I’d see the day when I thought sheet metal was beautiful, but that is some gorgeous pieces!”

Hearing Mark’s ascent, Steve went over and gave him a hand up.  “I should be able to strengthen up the hull with this stuff.”

Fitzhugh, his back to the woods, stared at the metal, trying to figure out what was so special about it.  Hearing a loud crackle behind him, his spun, terror filling his face.  It was a boy about Barry’s age, coming out of the woods, and heading right for them.  “Giants!” Fitzhugh shrieked.

Dan and Steve whirled around.  Seeing their escape to the underbrush cut off, the two each grabbed one of Fitzhugh’s arm, dragging him several yards before pushing him down behind a rock. 

Mark, however, remained standing where he was on the bank, his hand defiantly on his hips.  With a scowl, he looked from the forest to where his friends are hiding, then back again.

“What are you talking about?” he growled. “There’s no giants coming!”

Steve stepped out of hiding, his agitated eyes whipping between the foe and Wilson. “Mark!  Hide!”  he yelled, motioning for him to get down.

“Are you crazy?!” Dan shouted.  Popping his head above the rock.  He knew the man would be found at any moment.

“There’s nobody here!” Mark snapped.  With a wave of irritation at his friends, he squatted down and began untying the rope.

“Mark!” Dan and Steve yelled.

“What are you doing, man?” Fitzhugh screamed, gnawing on his nail. “You’re gonna get caught!”

The threesome fell silent as the giant boy stepped from the woods, and was now in clear view.  In total disbelief, they watched as Mark still did not seem to notice the approaching danger.

“Gotcha!” The giant snickered as he whisked him up. 

Snatching the razor-hatchet from Steve, Dan broke cover and with a heavy swing, slashed the giant first in one ankle, then the other.

“Ow!”  the boy cried out.  Falling to his knees, he had no option but to drop the little man. 

Dan, however, afraid that the hatchet wasn’t sharp enough, kept attacking, managing to cut the young giant in several places before the boy’s swinging hand drove him back.  Although the cuts were small and superficial, they were stinging.  Having had enough and clutching his bleeding finger, the boy rose, limping away into the woods. 

Mark climbed to his feet, swaying noticeably as Dan came running to him. “Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously, looking Wilson over for injuries. The giant had dropped him several Earth yards.

Mark, bent over, his hands braced against his knees, raised his head, his demeanor somewhat dazed.  “No,” he replied with a short shake.

“What is with you?!” they heard from behind them.  Dan pivoted, just in time to nab the charging Steve. “Didn’t you see the giant?” he yelled, beyond caring who heard.  It took all Dan’s strength to hold the enraged man back.

Mark’s pale face flushed with embarrassment. “No, I didn’t.”

“How could you not?  He was right on top of you?!

The engineer’s eyes narrowed.  “I said I didn’t see him!”

Fitzhugh, having joined them, glanced between the two. “Can we argue about this later?” His voice shook with fear.  “Once the boy tells his friends, this place will be swarming with giants.”

Steve pulled back, straightening his jacket with an angry tug.  “You’re right,” he glared at the Wilson.  “At least we got the sheet metal,” he turned with a snap. 

Within minutes, they had collected the metallic pieces and were hurrying back to camp.

-/-/-

That night, Betty’s horrific scream of “STEVE!!” cut through the silence like an explosion, shooting waves of terror down the spines of her now fully alert companions.  “DAN!!”  Shaken out of their paralysis by the second shriek, Barry and the men bolted out of bed toward the ship.

At the hatch, Barry was about to run in, but was snatched back by the flustered Fitzhugh. “Barry, it might be best if we waited out here,” he quivered, wrapping his arms around the boy.  “Quiet, Chipper,” he said to the agitated dog barking at their feet.

Barry frowned.  He would have preferred going in with the others, but looking up at the frightened Fitzhugh, he knew he had to stay with his friend, who seemed in need of comfort himself. “It’s okay, Chipper,” he soothed, as much to his pet as to himself.  The dog laid down at his side.

Inside the cabin, Valerie looked like a wild woman as she shook the horror-filled stewardess. “Wake up, Betty!  Wake UP!”

But Betty stared past her, heedless of her presence, her eyes wide in shock as if she had been witness to some invisible, tragic scene.  Her face paling by the second, she gasped, covering her gaping mouth with her hands as if to choke back a scream.

Running in, Steve and Dan slowed at the bizarre scene in the cabin.  “Valerie, wha—” was all Steve got out.

Letting go of Betty, Valerie whirled, her face twisted in panic and fear.  “She won’t—”

“Steve!” Betty shrieked.  She then bolted past the indiscernible Val towards Burton.

Startled by the charge, Steve stepped backwards, but tripped on one of Valerie’s boots.  He fell hard to the floor onto his back.  

“Steve….”  Tears streamed down Betty’s cheeks as she knelt over him, caressing his face.  “Steve… Dan!  You’re dead! You’re really dead!”

Burton, bewildered and not sure what to do, looked at the others. They were just as confounded and frightened as he was. “Betty…” he said gently, taking her by the forearms. “It’s okay, I’m not dead.”

“Oh, Steve,” she gasped, “how will I tell the others?”

Steve shook her.  “Betty, wake up!”  That too failing, he took her chin, forcing it towards him, then locked his eyes with hers, hoping to penetrate her daze and make some sort of connection. “Betty, I am not dead!”  She still didn’t see him. “Listen to me!” he ordered, fear creeping into his belly.

Betty’s crying abruptly stopped, her eyes blinking several times as if registering a new fact. “Steve?” she said unsure. 

“Yes!” he shouted joyously, releasing her.

Elation bloomed on her face.  “You’re not dead!  Oh, Steve!”  She bent down, hugging his shoulders.  As she pulled up, she brushed his forehead with a kiss.  “I’ll go get the others!” she said, her hands resting on his chest, alternately swatting away her tears. “I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

But Steve grabbed her wrists, holding her in place.  “Betty!  You’re stilling dreaming.  Listen to what I’m saying!  Wake up!”

Her reaction turned to a blank stare.  At a loss as to what else to do, Steve shook his head in regret, then slapped her face hard.  Her empty look didn’t change. “Damn it, Betty!” he growled, “COME BACK TO US!”

Blinking, the woman looked at those around her. “I-I am awake.” She sat down onto her rear, the blank look turning to stunned confusion.

“What happened?” Valerie croaked out, her hand at her throat.. “You scared the life out of us!”

Betty looked up at her.  Seeing the very much alive Dan, she gave him a faint smile, her voice choking as she replied, “I saw Dan and Steve crushed by a giant.  It was so real.  I-I touched Steve.  I felt his… his arm was just as real than as-as,” she gripped his forearm, “it is now.”  Steve sat up, putting a hand on her shoulder.  “Dan’s neck was bent… there was blood…,” she gasped, “everywhere…” she covered her face with her hands to hide the sobs underneath.

Steve pulled her towards him, feeling her tremble as he wrapped his arms around her.  “It’s okay.  You’re back with us now.”

Beside her, Dan stiffly nodded. “That was one intense dream.”

“I’m glad it was just a nightmare.”  Valerie smiled, but it wasn’t convincing.

“Betty, let it go,” Steve insisted. “Under the circumstances, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.”

The woman’s head shot up.  “Like what happened?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.”  He got to his feet, helping her to hers.

“I want to know now,” she demanded, her eyes cemented to Steve’s.

Steve nearly gave in.  For Betty to demand anything was a rare occurrence.  But now was still not the time.  “In the morning, I said.”  His tone was gentle but firm.  “When our minds are more rational.”

Opening her mouth to argue, Betty, instead, closed it again.  She knew Steve never did anything in haste and the outcome was always better for it.  Resigned to his decision, she broke contact.  “All right,” she confirmed with a shallow nod.

Steve studied her, then Valerie.  Both looked the way he felt.  “Let’s try to get some shut-eye, okay?”

“Be my guest,” Betty responded with a sarcastic laugh, wiping away the last of the tears.  Going to the closest chair, she dropped into it.

Steve’s shoulders drooped.  It’d been a long week.  He looked at Dan and Dan at him.  Despite their fatigue, both were hesitant about leaving her.

Feeling their eyes on her, Betty lifted her resting head from her upright arm.  “Steve, Dan…” she hesitated, unsure what to say, then waved them away, “go, I’ll be all right. Valerie’s here with me— ”

“In all my glory,” Val joked, garnishing slight grins from the two stern men.

“We’ll be fine,” she reassured them, her voice strong and determined.  Then gave them her own brief smile. “I don’t think either of us can sleep now anyway, so go.  We don’t need four exhausted people on their feet.”

“All right,” Steve said, a touch of doubt still in his mind. Knowing she was right, he turned and left.

Right behind him, Dan, however, halted at the cabin door.  “Ladies,” he called out, “come and get us if you need anything. Okay?”

“You know we will, Dan.”  Her reply was steady, but her eyes read scared.

-/-/-

“What was it, Captain?” Barry had asked the instant Steve’s foot hit the hatch’s threshold. He was still caught in Fitzhugh’s embrace.

Steve put a hand to his mouth, debating how much to tell the boy.  “Betty just had a nightmare, son.  Nothing to worry about.  Go back to bed.”  He headed that way himself.

“See, Barry, I told you that’s what it was,” crowed the older man.  Releasing Barry, he gave him a weary grin before following the captain to the lean-to.

Barry’s eyes turned from Fitzhugh to the hatch.  Frowning, he picked up his dog, trailing the others. 

A moment later, Dan, exited Spindrift. Coming around the root to the bed site, he slowed, looking in bafflement at Barry and Fitzhugh, who were peering down in their own confusion at the prone Mark Wilson in the cot.  Steve stood opposite them at the bunk bed, his back toward Dan, his head down, gnawing on his thumbnail.  A habit, Dan knew, Burton only did when he was deeply troubled.  

“I can’t believe he slept through that!” Fitzhugh grumbled, sounding more envious than disgusted.

“Doesn’t Mark like Betty anymore?” Barry asked.

Steve, coming over, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  “It’s been a hard week, especially for Mark and Betty.  He’s just probably fallen into the best…” he threw a look at the surprised Dan, who had joined them at Mark’s bedside, “sleep he’s had in months.  Get back to bed, now.  Daylight will be coming early.”

Steve, his eyes meeting Dan’s, gave a jerk of his head.  Dan, glancing at Barry, gave a subtle nod.  As the man and boy settled into their bunks, the pilots, not wanting to frighten Barry, moved out of earshot of the camp.

“Something’s definitely wrong!” Dan hissed as soon as they were sure they wouldn’t be heard.

Steve was grim, his forehead furrowed with thought.  “I know.”

“That experiment?”

“That’s my guess.  We have to find out what type of experiment it was and see if there’s anything that can be done to reverse the effects.”

Dan straightened with determination. “When do we leave?”

“If we go now we can be there long before morning.  You up for it?”

“After Betty’s scream?” Dan chuckled, his adrenaline racing.  “You bet!”

“I’ll get the gear and tell Fitzhugh.  You tell Valerie.”

“Right.”

-/-/-

The going was slow in the dark, but the men kept good pace.  During the trip, they said little, their minds too crammed with thoughts, apprehension, and theories to talk.  Reaching the building sometime before sunrise, to their surprise a light in the laboratory was already on.

“I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not,” Dan commented, hopping into the grate. 

They arrived at the office floor vent a few minutes later.  Slowly and cautiously, they raised their heads up through the opening.

“Oh, hell…” murmured Dan.

The gray-haired man called Raggal was sitting at the desk, his face grim as he scanned over information on a clipboard. “What about the sixth set of mice?”

“Still comatose,”  Benard, standing beside him, reported with indifference.

“And the antidote?” Raggal peered up at him.

Benard’s lips thinned as he shook his head. “No sign of it working yet.”

“Failure!” Raggal shouted, throwing the board on the desk, causing everyone to jump. “Again another failure!”

“It will still be a great chemical weapon for our military,” Benard offered.

“What?” he snapped.  “Spray the enemy so they can die slowly, wasting away in an endless sleep?  No!  That’s not what this drug was supposed to do!”

“But if it’s a more humane solution to war…” Benard’s hopeful voice trailed away.

“That’s why you’re only an assistant, Benard.”  Raggal jerked off his glasses, massaging his tired eyes.  “What will happen to the rest of our planet should the toxin be contagious?  We could all be dead in a matter of months, humane death though it might be.  No!  Once I find the counteractive, I will destroy the toxin.  It’s too unstable.”

Stunned at the news, Dan and Steve, dropped into the vent-shaft where they stared at each other in astonishment and disbelief, their thoughts and fears racing.

“A matter of months for the whole planet,” Dan said, his throat tight, “but how long for Mark and Betty?”

“I don’t know,” Steve’s reply was barely above a whisper.  Sinking to the ground, he raised his knees, then lowered his weary head onto his crossed arms. “We’ll just have to pray he finds the antidote in time.”

“What do we do till then?” Dan snapped, not trying to hide his irritation. “Keep coming back until he does?”

Steve’s head shot up. “No!  We stick around until they leave, then go over their notes!”  His eyes flickered with anger.

And fear, Dan saw, having not realized just how scared Steve was until now.  He relaxed, giving him a faint grin.  “We’ll have to let the others know, but we’ll have to go back outside.  The radio signal can’t transmit past these walls, remember?”

“I remember,” Steve replied solemnly as he got to his feet.

At the building’s vent where they had come in, Dan dropped from the opening, pulling the small hand transmitter from of his jacket pocket.  “Spindrift, come in, it’s—” 

“Oh, thank God, you called,” Valerie blurted out.  “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours!” She sounded close to hysterical.  “It’s Betty and Mark.  They’ve collapsed, and we can’t rouse them!” 

“We’ll be there in about an hour.”  He shut the radio down without ceremony. 

Without another needed word between him and Steve, they began the trot home.

-/-/-

By the time Steve and Dan hit the edge of camp, both had their uniform jackets tired around their waists.  Their faces and tee-shirts drenched in sweat, they had jogged the entire way.  Slowing to a walk, they glanced around, each immediately made uneasy by the eerie silence. 

“You’re back!” cut through the air like a shot.  It was Valerie.  She stood at Spindrift’s hatch and was just exiting it when she had seen them. Discarding the empty water bucket in her hand, she lead them to the shelter’s two bunk beds.  There, Barry and Fitzhugh were massaging the arms of the unconscious man and woman.  Both of their feet had been raised, and each had a wet rag lying across their forehead.  

“Check Betty,” Steve said, swerving to Mark. 

“We’ve been trying anything and everything we could think of,” Valerie said, watching as Barry moved away from Betty to make room for Dan.  “Including the smelling salts, but nothing!”

Taking the engineer by the shoulders, Steve pulled him into sitting position. “Mark!  Mark, wake up!

Dan checked check Betty’s eyes.  “Her pupils are dilated,” he said. “It’s like she’s been drugged.”

“I even held a match to their hands…” Valerie’s words caught in her throat as she fought hard not to fall apart.  “… neither of them flinched!”

Unable to bring Mark around, Steve looked to Dan for ideas.

“Ice,” Dan stated without question.

Fitzhugh’s eyebrow shot up. “Ice?”

“My uncle was a cop,” he replied. “They used ice to bring overdosed drug addicts out of their comas.”

“Let’s try it,” urged Steve.

“In the meantime,” Dan added, “until we get the compressor hooked up, get them to their feet, and start walking them around.” He had an arm around Betty and was already pulling her to her feet.

As Steve began to raise Mark, Fitzhugh shot over, silently following the captain’s lead. 

“Barry,” Steve motioned with his head, “come take over for me.”  Barry didn’t hesitate.

Valerie, likewise, slid an arm around Betty.  But Dan hesitated, unsure of Valerie being able to carry the woman’s dead weight.

“I’m stronger than I look,” she answered his unspoken question with a grin.  “Especially since coming here.”

With an crooked smile, the man passed her over to the redhead.  At first, it was a struggle to keep Betty and herself on their feet, but when Val caught the hang of it, it was smooth sailing.  “Told you,” she said with a quick, but noticeably, smug grin before resuming her concentration.  Satisfied she could handle it, Dan and Steve hurried to the compressor.

An hour later, the cold compacts were ready.  Returning the sleep-induced couple to the cots, Dan placed an ice pack on Mark’s neck, next pulling off the man’s shoes and socks. “Place it any where that’s sensitive,” he instructed.  He then signaled Barry to hold a cube to Mark’s ribs.

Steve, pulling off Betty’s boots, held the icy pack to her feet as Val laid an cube against the small of her back.  “How’s Mark?” he asked a few minutes later.

Dan shook his head.  “He’s not reacting.”

Steve looked around, his eyes settling on whom he sought out.  “Fitzhugh, go get the medical bag.”

For once the big man didn’t argue as he hastened to Spindrift.

“Anything?” Steve asked Valerie, his eyes never leaving Betty’s wan face, awaiting, and hoping for, some reaction.

“No!”

Hearing panic in her voice, Steve shot her a look.  Her face was crinkled in concentration and anxiousness, her hands shaking.  “Take her pulse,” he snapped with deliberate intention, trying to get her mind focused on something else—like being mad at him—just as Alexander returned with the bag.  Snatching the kit from Fitzhugh, Steve flung it open, pulling out the stethoscope.  Slipping it over his ears, he saw Valerie had yet to move. 

“Valerie, get with it!”  This time he shouted. 

Her lips thinned as a touch of red came to her cheeks.  But she did as ordered, taking her friend’s pulse as Steve listened to Hamilton’s heart then lungs.  “What do you have?” he asked a moment later.

“Steady at a good sixty-five beats per minute.”

“Her heart sounds strong and lungs clear.  Stay with her.”  He moved over to Mark, repeating the procedure.  Frowning, he pulled the instrument. “He seems physically okay, too,” he said to Dan.

“Sure, they’re just in a coma,” Dan replied acidly.

About to respond, Steve never got the chance to as Betty, although unconscious, began flinging her arms wildly about, knocking the unprepared Valerie off her feet.

Dan and Steve ran for the cot, each grabbing one of Betty’s arms, but she fought them as if her life depended on it.  To their astonishment, the woman was strong and ferocious.  Scratching Steve’s face, she then managed several kicks the men were sure would leave bruises.  It took several minutes to subdue her.  When they did, to their and everyone’s else befuddlement, she immediately quieted down, closing her eyes without any further mishap.

Both men dropped to the ground, panting for air.  Steve ran a hand over his cheek to see how much blood there was.  Luckily, it was only a few drops, indicating the damage was minor.

“Barry,” Steve said, in between gasps, “get the rope.  I don’t want them hurting themselves—or us—again.”

“Steve!” Val exploded.  “Mark and Betty would never hurt us!”

“You know Mark has a violent streak, and Betty just tried to scratch my eyes out, I’m not taking any chances.  Understand?”  Hearing no reply, acid or otherwise, he looked up with suspicion.  “Understand.” It wasn’t a question.

Pouting, she gave him a sour, “Understood,” then crossed her arms and walked away.

Barry returned with the rope, handing it to them.  Steve and Dan looked at each other then turned to the patients.  With little choice and even less enthusiasm, they bound their friends’ hands and feet. 

“Steve, Dan.”  It was Valerie, and with her, Barry.  Her tone was almost apologetic.  Almost.  “You two need to get some food and rest.  Why don’t you go do that while Chipper, Barry and I sit with Betty and Mark. 

“Oh, Miss Scott,” Dan sighed with an appreciative grin, “my admiration for you has just increased ten fold.”

“Oh, that means I’m at an… eleven!”  She retorted brightly.  Dan began to protest, but never got passed opening his mouth as she shooed them away, pushing them towards the ship. “Go!” she ordered.  “Get sleep while you can.  We don’t know how long they’ll be out.  Or awake.”

Both men were reluctant.  But unable to hold their eyes opened any longer, they did as they were told, heading for the hammocks in the cabin, leaving appreciated and grateful “Thank you’s!” in their trail.

-/-/-

Several hours dragged by with no change from either patient, except to put everyone more on edge as each minute ticked by.

Steve and Dan, after having woken up, relieved Val and Barry from their sentry duty so they too could catch a catnap.  To their never-ending astonishment, Fitzhugh also volunteered his services.  “I don’t believe anyone has really eaten since this all began this morning,” he said, wringing his hands, his eyes darting around the small camp, “least of all, you two dedicated souls.  Therefore, I would be honored in serving everyone the potato for dinner.”  And disappeared before Dan or Steve could pick their jaws up off the ground.

“Maybe some good is coming out of all of this.”  Dan gazed at the their fallen friends, then at his shoes before speaking.  “Do you think it’s wise to leave them right now?”

“No.  But I don’t…” his sentence trailed off as Valerie materialized beside them.  Glancing between Mark and Betty, she crossed her arms, leaning against the bunk-bed post.  “They’ve been like this for hours!  Are they ever gonna rouse?”  Her voice was at the breaking point, her face pinched in fear.

“What are you doing here?” asked Steve quietly.

“Couldn’t sleep.”  Even the mischievous gleam in her eye was clouded in concern.  “Once I laid down, I just,” she shrugged, “couldn’t stop thinking about—”

“We’ll try more ice,” Dan said.

“And then what?” she snapped, straightening up.  “Sit around some more while they slowly die before our eyes?!”   Her pale face turned beet red as she instantly regretted what she said and to whom. 

“Steve, I’m—”

“Why are my hands tied?”  asked the feminine voice from the bed.

The three jumped in surprise, then bolted to Betty’s side.

“What’s going on?” she asked.  She was completely conscious.  “Why are my hands tied?” And rational.

Dan’s grin enveloped his face.  “It’s a long story,” he uttered wearily.  “We’ll tell you about it in a minute.” He turned to Steve.  “Think it’s safe to untie her?”

He nodded, his face still somber.  “I’ll go check Mark.”  He reached the cot just as Mark began to stir, yet made no further move.  Instead, he waited to see how the tumultuous man would react. 

Fitzhugh, with the promised food tray in his hand, entered the shelter.  “Would anyone like—”

“Fitzhugh, they’re awaking!” Valerie shouted with joy.

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered.  The wonderful news made his knees weak.  Handing the tray to Val, he dropped into the nearest chair.

Fully conscious now, the engineer began to struggle angrily with his bounds.  “What’s going on?”

“Barry!” Fitzhugh hopped up off the stool as if it were on fire.  “I have to go tell him!”  And ran out of the alcove.

Steve broke into a huge smile.  “I guess we can untie him.”

“Damn right you will!  What is this?”

As Steve knelt by Mark’s cot undoing the rope, Dan had already done the same for Betty.  Sitting beside her, he helped her to sit up.  Wan, she moved like ever muscle in her body was stiff as a board.

“How do you feel?” Steve asked Mark, studying every move he made.

“Like I’ve been asleep for twelve hours,” he said, massaging his sore wrists.

“Me, too.” Betty stretched her legs out before her, wriggling her numb toes. “But I feel like I could use twelve more hours worth.”

“No!” Steve snapped, whirling to her.  “Whatever you do, don’t go back to sleep!”

“What?” she asked, a tremor in her voice.

She and Mark exchanged alarmed looks. 

“Why?” Mark demanded, his eyes narrow in suspicion.

Steve’s expression was taut as he glanced down at his clasped hands then between the two.  “Dan and I found out what that spray was the giants used on you.  It’s an experimental toxin to be used for war.”

“And….” Mark pushed with growing impatience.

Hesitant to say more, Steve looked from Betty to Barry.  “Barry, would you go get me two fresh cold packs, please?”  he asked suddenly.

“Sure, Steve.”  Pushing himself off the tree he’d been leaning on, Barry took off at a trot, his terrier beside him.

Steve, his eyes on the boy until he was out of sight, turned to the twosome.  Only now he couldn’t find the strength to tell them. 

“Steve, it’s my life,” Betty demanded, sensing his reluctance. “ I want to know!  What does this toxin do?”

The captain looked at Dan, his face tormented. 

Dan took a deep breath then said, “It makes you sleep—continuously.”

“How continuously?” Wilson growled.

“Indefinitely,” answered Steve.

“But if we’re in an endless sleep, we can’t eat or drink…” Betty’s words fell as her face drained of color.

“… we die, in our sleep,” Mark finished flatly.

Steve’s nod was grim.

“But the giant is searching for an antidote!” Dan took Betty’s hand, giving it a squeeze.  “There’s still time!”

“How much time?” Mark barked with loaded skepticism.

“I don’t know,” Steve replied.  “Dan and I are going back there tonight to hopefully find some additional information.”

“I’m going with you.” 

“You can’t, Mark.”

“Do either of you know anything about chemistry?” He looked knowingly between them.

Dan raised his head with indignation.  “You know we don’t!  But neither do you.”

“I know enough to be able to tell the difference between rocket fuel and a sleeping draught.  Like Betty said, it’s my life.  I’m going even if I have to stay there and work alongside the guy!”

“But the nightmares, Mark,” Betty broke in, “How are you gonna tell them apart?”

Fitzhugh’s eyes sprang to the size of dinner plates.  “ ‘Tell them apart?’  Apart from what?  What are you talking about?”

“Another symptom of this toxin is the nightmares,” Betty lamented.  “It’s getting harder to tell where our nightmares end, and reality begins.”

Dan shot upright. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what she said.  When we’re awake, it feels like a dream.  The imagery is blurred, like we’re walking in a fog.”

“And when we sleep,” Betty continued, “the dreams, whether they be nightmares or other, are brilliantly vibrant.  The sights, smells, even touch… we experience everything as if…” her voice cracked, “as if it is reality.”

“Like the nightmare where Dan and I were killed.” Steve nodded, remembering back.

Dan put an arm around her shoulder.  “So the more you sleep, the more you dream…,” he closed his eyes, absorbing the explanation, “the more tired you become, the more you want to sleep until you’re walking around in an exhausted haze, if you’re able to walk at all.”

“Exactly,” nodded Wilson.  “Even now I’m not sure if I’m talking to you, in truth, or in a dream.”

Steve pulled back his arm, hitting the engineer point-blank in the chin.  “Did that help?” he asked, in all seriousness.

Rubbing the throbbing area, Mark looked at Steve askance, trying to detect if his attacker got any joy out of it. He saw none.  “Immensely.  But it doesn’t mean I’m going to forget it.”

“No, I’m sure you won’t,” he replied, with a knowing chuckle.

Hearing the crunching of hurrying steps, everyone looked toward Spindrift.  It was Barry. Huffing and puffing, he offered the ice packs to the captain.

“Thank you, Barry,” Steve said, taking one.  “Give the other one to Betty.”  He then passed his to Mark, who instead put it on his bruised chin.

Barry held the second one out for Betty, but the woman stared at it with a lost look.  “What do I do with it?”

Going over, Steve instructed her to turn around.  Unsure, at the same time, trusting him, Betty handed him the compress then complied.  Burton, pulling back the neckline of her dress, dropped the ice pack down, then held it securely against her spine.  The forest echoed with her gasping of breath.

“Steve Burton, that was a rotten thing to do!” she shrieked, jerking away from him.

But there was no amusement in Steve’s expression.  “I apologize, but it was necessary.  Do you feel awake?  Wide awake?”

Betty thought for a moment.  “Why… yes.”

“Then it worked.”

“For the time being anyway,” commented Dan, his eyes thoughtful.

“Let’s go,” Mark ordered, standing up.  “I want to get to that scientist’s office while I’m still awake enough to comprehend things.  I also want to bring the flare gun this time.”

Dan’s forehead furrowed.  “Why?”

“To make sure he listens to us instead of treating us like the lab specimens he used us for the first time around.”

“I’m going with you,” Betty blurted out, jumping to her feet.

“No!” said Steve.

“Well, I won’t stay here!” She crossed her arms in defiance.  “If a solution is found, I want to be there.  Otherwise, by the time you got back, it could be too late.”

Steve looked at the other men, trying to read their thoughts.  When none argued against her, he came to the same conclusion.  She was right.  “Okay,” he sighed, “we all go.”

The little group, Chipper included, gathered what equipment they needed, then took off as fast as they could for the science complex.

They passed through the Center’s outside grate without any problems, and were almost to the office when Steve, on point, heard his name called out.  Turning, he saw Dan struggling to hold up Betty.  The whites of her eyes were all he could see before her lids closed and she sank to the floor; Dan with her.  Valerie, too, dropped to the ground, but only so she could rest Betty’s head on her lap. 

“Mark?” Steve’s throat had suddenly gone dry and he was afraid to look at the man.

“I’m okay for now, but you might have to hit me again.”

“I won’t say it’ll be a pleasure.” 

“No, but you’ll enjoy it just the same,” Mark muttered to him.

Steve shot him a quick glance, not sure if he was joking or not, then turned his mind back to Betty.

“What do we do in the meantime?”  Dan asked.  He was still crouching beside her, a sad expression on his face.

“Let her doze for now.  Valerie, Fitzhugh, you stay with her,” Steve instructed.  “Val, keep monitoring her life signs.  Let us know if they change.” He handed her the second radio.

“Right.”

“Barry, you come with us.”

Behind them, Valerie motioned for Fitzhugh to take a seat beside her.  When he did, she transferred Betty’s head to his.  Shifting to her knees, she pulled the medical bag closer, pulling out the stethoscope.

At the office grate, after a moment of astute listening, they raised their heads cautiously, straining to peer into the other room.  Seeing only a shadow at first, the shadow came into view, revealing it to be Raggal.  The foursome ducked back down.

“Barry, you know what to do.” Steve, Dan, and Mark had devised a plan on the walk in.

The boy nodded with confidence, his demeanor as solemn the grown-ups.

The three men looked at each other with apprehension.  Next, they waited until Raggal disappeared into the lab, then, taking deep breaths, they vaulted from the vent.  Sprinting, Dan was the first to reach the threshold of the research lab. 

“He’s alone,” he informed the others as they caught up with him.  “Go ahead, Steve.”

Stepping from behind the wall, the little man cupped his hands over his mouth, shouting as loud as he could.  “Hey, you!  Giant!  Down here!”

Raggal, thinking he heard something, glanced around the room, but unable to find its source, he returned to what he was doing.  The Earth men, however, continued until Raggal, finally convinced he’d been hearing voices began to search the room in earnest.  “Little people!” he cried out when he came upon them at the threshold.  Dropping to his hands and knees, he adjusted his glasses, peering closer at them.

“Remember me?” Mark stepped past the others, his fists clutched and ready for a fight.  “You sprayed me and a woman companion with that toxin of yours.”

Raggal nodded.  “You’re the one I used in my experiment several weeks ago.”

“That’s what I just said!” Mark spat.

“This is terrific!  Now I can learn what effects it had on you!”

The giant, not thinking in terms of  human or even intelligence, reached down for Mark who, in turn, raised the flare pistol towards the giant’s mouth, instantly causing Raggal to stop. 

Steve, knowing his friend’s hot-headedness, laid a refraining hand on the barrel, pushing it to the side.  “Stop treating us like animals!” he demanded, his patience as thin as Mark’s temper.  “We’re not bugs to be studied!  We’re people, just like you only smaller!  Your experiment had some effects—bad effects—on my friends, that’s why we’re here.”

Dan stepped forward.  “We want to talk to you, but only if you’ll cooperate with us!

“Cooperate with you?” he snickered.  “You’re little people!”

“Little people?!” Mark sneered.  “Mister, on my planet I had laboratories three times the size of this one, and was chairman in seventeen different companies!  My research team lead the world in scientific development.  You call yourself a scientist?!  You don’t even know what the word means!”

Affronted, Raggal pulled back, his look of pure amazement.  “You little people are more rational—and intelligent—than government led us to believe.  What else can you do?”

Enraged, Mark took several steps forward.  “We’re not trained animals!  We’re—”

Steve jumped in front of him.  “Calm down, Mark,” he quietly ordered.  “He’s ignorant, not stupid.”  He turned to Raggal.  “Will you listen to what we have to say, without calling SID?”

Sitting back on his haunches, the scientist considered the request for a long moment then nodded.  “You have my word.”

“His word!” Mark exploded.

“Ease up, Mark,” Dan hissed under his breath. “He’s the only chance you and Betty have!”

With that, the bravado fell from Mark’s face.

“All right,” Steve shouted up to him, “let’s talk.”

Leaning forward, Raggal stretched out his hand, allowing the men to step upon his palm.  Sheltering them with his other hand, he moved slow and deliberate till he reached the center counter.  Laying his arm on the top, he watched them jump off.

“You said there were some affects.” He pulled a stool closer to the table, settling upon it.

Steve motioned for Mark to explain. 

“It starts with the dreams,” the engineer began, loud and clear.

For a good twenty minutes Raggal heeded as Wilson elaborated.  He asked questions here and there, otherwise, nodding on occasion to show he understood. Afterwards, he leaned back.  Crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes locked thoughtfully on some point on the wall.

Waiting those few breathless moments caused Steve’s hope to deteriorate.  Peering at the others, he could tell they were just as troubled as he was.  “Do you think you can help them?” he finally called out.

The scientist’s shoulders rose then fell.  “I can’t see how I can.  I’ve been working on the antidote, but all my tests have failed so far.”

“I might be able to help if you let me try,” Mark told him, “and if you swear not to inform SID!”

Raggal threw an arm into the air.  “Bah!  I have no use for the SID.  Nor do my coworkers.  As for you, I would welcome your help.  You see, the toxin is dangerous.  Let loose on the world, even by accident, it could mean the end of us all.”

Mark looked at Steve and Dan.  There they saw gleam of determination in Wilson’s eyes. “Let’s get started then!”

Over the next several hours, Raggal and Mark poured over the scientist’s notes while Steve and Dan sat waiting.  Afterwards, the two pilots turned the pages of a huge notepad as Mark called out the amounts and ingredients to Raggal, who then blended the mixture.

The faint light of sunrise peeked through the windows, but the foursome were too absorbed, and exhausted, in their work to notice.

“We’re almost there,” Raggal announced, pushing aside a beaker to make more room.  When he did, the beaker pushed into a water container, which tumbled off the counter.  Hitting the floor, it shattered into a hundred pieces, its water pooling under the counter at the man’s feet.  Through his tired hazed, Raggal looked down at the mess, his expression blank.  When it registered, he rubbed his red, strained eyes, muttering, “The janitor can clean it up later.”

Pouring the last of the chemicals, a sickly yellow liquid, into the main vessel, the gray-haired man then sat heavily onto the stool.  “That’s it.  It’s done.”  His voice was little more than a whisper.

The exhausted small men dropped down on the tabletop to rest.

“How soon can we use it?” Steve asked, stretching out full-length.

“A couple of hours.  We’ll know when it’s safe.  The liquid will have changed colors.”  Glancing around his lab, Raggal blinked several times.  “It’s daylight,” he mumbled to no one in particular.  Peering down at his watch, he did a double-take.  “You should hide.  Even though it’s the weekend and few other people are here, they do drop in sometimes for a chat.  Do you have some place you can go?”

After telling him they did, they requested he take them over to the grate in the office.  Raggal asked no questions as he did so.  On his knee, he watched as the last man disappeared through the vent.  “Get some rest. I’ll call you when—”

The door opened to the incoming Benard. 

Startled, both giant men froze.

“Doctor,” a flash of anger appeared in Benard’s eyes, quickly replaced a forced grin, “what are you doing on the floor?”

“Tying my shoe,” Raggal replied, unfazed.  “Why are you here?  It’s the weekend, you should be home enjoying yourself.” He stood.

“I can’t find my wallet,” he said, still eyeing the doctor.  He peered at the lab. “Have you been here all night?”

Dan, closest to the grate, spun around to hear more. Benard’s tone had been all wrong: it was angry… suspicious… and worried.  “Steve, you and Barry get some shut-eye, I’ll take first watch,” he told them, feeling very uneasy about the assistant. 

Too tired to argue, Steve bunched up his jacket, bunking down next to Barry and Chipper, and the already asleep Mark.  For Wilson and Betty, there was nothing they could do now but wait.

“Yes, I have,” Raggal answering Benard’s question.  He stood upright.  “I must find that antidote, Benard.  I won’t rest until I do.” He returned to the lab, taking his familiar seat on the stool. 

In the office, the thoughtful Benard slowly pulled his white work coat from the closet.  A moment later, he was beside Raggal.  He looked down at his supervisor’s scribbled notations, and frowned.  There were notes and data spread all over the table.  His frown deepening, he studied the apparatus with it’s bubbling formula. “Just how close are you?” he asked with a folded brow.

“Very close!”  Excited, he broke into an ear-to-ear grin. “This last batch should tell if we’ve been successful.”

“We?” Benard eyed his superior.

Raggal spun around.  “Yes, you and me, Benard!”

“I see,” he replied, giving a slow nod while his boss turned back to his work.  Wetting his lips, he lifted his head, adding cheerily.  “You look beat, why don’t you go home?  I’ll call you when the results come through.”

“I would appreciate that,” Raggal admitted, his voice weary and face drawn.  “Thank you, Benard.”  Pushing himself off the chair, he stepped into the office. 

Benard followed but only so far as the lab’s threshold.  Leaning against the woodwork, he tapped a finger on its side, his rounded eyes watching like a hawk as Raggal shucked off his lab coat, grabbing his suit jacket from the rack. 

Raggal, his hand on the doorknob and back towards Benard, gave one final glance at the floor grate before leaving.      

No soon had the door been shut when a “cat-that-eat-the-canary” smile spread across Benard’s face.

Dan, already vigilant and witnessing canary-smile, sprung up out of the duct.  Disregarding his own safety, he ran full out across the open floor, almost slamming headlong into the wall before he could stop himself.  He next skirted around the wooden frame till he had a clear view of his target.  He found he need not have worried about being discovered as Benard was already thoroughly engrossed with something.  The scientist, upon raising his arm, gave Dan a perfect inline shot. 

The something, Dan discovered, was the antidote beaker Raggal had poured the ugly yellow ingredient into.  The solution had changed to a bright orange.

“Pour Raggal,” Benard muttered with a satisfied smirk.  Putting down the bottle, he pulled a small vial from his work coat pocket.  “He’ll never know he had the right serum all these times. And just like the other ‘antidotes’, I can’t let you know you succeeded.”  Dan’s mouth dropped open as he watched Benard pour the vial’s liquid into the solution.  Within seconds the counteractive turned crystal clear.   “At least not until I’ve sold the toxin to the highest bidder.”

Dan raced for the grate.  Diving, he practically slid through the opening.  “Steve!” he yelled even as he was halfway in. 

Steve and Barry jolted awake.  Seeing their friend’s state, their hearts sped up even more.  Too afraid to move, Barry stayed where he was, hugging his dog, as Steve hurried over.  “What’s wrong?”

“Raggal had the solution all along!  That dirty s.o.b. of an assistant’s been sabotaging his work right from the start!”

Steve grabbed Dan’s arms, searching his face.  “Seriously?”  He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Absolutely!  I just saw him put the chemical in myself.  We’ve got to get Raggal back here.”

“We don’t know how.”

“Steve, we can’t we wait any longer—Mark and Betty can’t wait any longer!”

Steve glanced over his shoulder.  Mark was still asleep, and in all probability, unconscious.  His mind went into overdrive looking for answers.

“We can call him,” Dan said, a plan beginning to form, “but we don’t know his number.” 

Staring at Dan, Steve was catching onto to his copilot’s idea.  He grinned.  “Our tried and true operator.  We can use the office phone.  But the assistant is still here, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.  We could use a telephone in one of the other offices.  Raggal said it was the weekend and few people were here.”

“But he also said they drop in unexpectedly.  I don’t want us to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  No, this time I’d prefer—”

“… a conveniently arranged distraction,” Dan finished with a smile.

Steve’s grin matched Dan’s own.  “You’re beginning to read my mind,” he joked as he turned toward the tunnel.

“Nah, just coming to know your strategic maneuvers.  Let me guess… Barry?”

“That’s right,” Steve nodded.  “Barry!” he called, a little above a whisper. 

Hearing his name, the boy quickly scooted over.  “Yes, Captain?”

“Barry, listen carefully,” Steve placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder.  “Do you think you and Chipper can lead Benard on a wild goose chase, for say… about half an hour?”

“Sure!  Where?”

“Out of this office into the hall?”

Barry moved over to the opening.  An inch shy to see over the lip, he turned to Dan and was about to ask for assistance when Dan, seeing his need, dropped to one knee, signaling for Barry to use his bent limb as a step.  “Careful not to go too high,” he warned, “or you might be seen.”

“If you don’t think you can do it without getting caught, don’t do it,” Steve whispered as Barry scrutinized the office layout.  “We’ll understand.  We don’t want to lose you, too.”

Barry pulled his head below the opening. “No, we can do it.” There was no doubt nor fear in his words.  He hopped down to the floor.

“Are you sure?” asked Steve, himself uncertain.

“Positive.  I remember seeing the other vent entrances on our way in.  We’ll be okay, don’t worry.”

“All right, go to it.  Wait…” he bent down, taking something from the floor.  “Take this with you, just in case.”  It was the razor-hatchet.  “I’ll have Valerie whistle when it’s safe to ditch him.”

“Gotcha,” Barry nodded.  With hatchet in hand, Barry was boosted through the grate by Steve; Dan handing Chipper up to him.  Peering out, they watched, each holding their breath as the youngster and his dog made their way, unnoticed, to the laboratory.

“Steve, do you think that’s wise?”

“No, but we’ve no other choice. Time is running out.”

Reaching the doorjamb, Barry cautiously peeked around its corner.  The giant had his back to him.  Putting Chipper down, Barry gave him the stay command, which the dog obeyed without question or sound.  Barry then ran two-third’s of the way to main door.  Pausing there, he let out a whistle.  Breaking into loud barking, the terrier took off after his master.

Benard, hearing the odd noise, glanced out the window.  Realizing the barking hadn’t come from outside, he tilted his head, tracing the sounding to Chipper and Barry. 

“Little people!” he muttered.  Breaking into a lopsided grin, he began his chase.

With the barking Chipper close by his side, Barry continued his play for the hallway door.  He slid below the structure, under, and paused till he was sure Benard was following them, then pushed himself through to the other side; Chipper tagging after him. 

At the door, Benard flung it open, bounding into the hall. He searched all over, squinting his eyes in frustration.  The little boy was no where to be seen.  Then he heard a sound to his left.  It was the dog.  Following the barks, it lead him to a grate a few feet down the corridor.  “Quiet, Chipper,” he heard as he bent down to peer in. 

Again, Barry waited only long enough to let the man see them, then took off, repeating the manuever at the next vent and continuing when he was sure Benard had caught up with them.

In the meantime, with the assistant gone, Dan and Steve had taken off for the office desk, and the telephone.  The instant the receiver was off the hook, Dan dove for the “O” as Steve sprinted to the mouthpiece.

“Operator,” came an passive feminine voice.

“Operator, this is security at the Harriman Research Center.  It’s an emergency, I need the home telephone number of Dr. Raggal.”

“Hold on, I’ll connect you immediately.”

“Thank you!” Steve looked at Dan, his face beaming.

“That’s even better than we’d hoped,” said Dan, his smile just as big as the captain’s.

Steve, listening to the clicks as she put them through to the scientist’s house, stood up and began to pace. 

On the other end, the telephone rang, but Raggal didn’t pick up. 

“He must not be home!” Dan swore under his breath.

Steve waited well over fifteen rings before angrily slamming down the disconnect button.

“Shall we—” Dan didn’t get any further when Benard walked in the door.  The man stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes locked on the two little people on the desk.

Steve and Dan ran for the dangling telephone cord at the edge of the table, but with no time to climb and no place to hide, they were easily caught in a matter of seconds.  Clenched in Benard’s thick fist, the gleeful man carried them to the lab, dropping them into the same beaker they had rescued Betty from earlier.

“You two little people will be a wonderful bonus to my forthcoming fortune.”

Meanwhile, Barry, his arm around his dog, had watched everything from the main door sill. When Benard disappeared into the lab, he ran to the vent.  Lying on his stomach, he pulled Chipper over.

“Sorry, boy,” he said as he leaned in as far as he could without falling over, “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” then dropped the dog.  Barry watched as Chipper landed, let out a short whelp, but jumped immediately to his feet.  Looking up at his master, he wagged his tail. 

“Stay, Chipper,” Barry ordered, grabbing the hatchet and climbing to his feet.

His eyes and ears open, and ready to run at a blink’s notice, he made his way to the back wall, next to the counter where Steve and Dan were held.  Luck was with him as Benard was too busy with things, including the two little men, to take notice of what was around his feet.  Reaching the wall unhindered and unnoticed, Barry went straight to the heating unit where its long cord was draped excessively on the floor.  Going to the electrical outlet, to his endless gratitude, he found it loose.  He pulled it out.  Next, chopping through the thin cord, the boy dragged the end to the remaining water of the broken beaker.  The water that was right under Benard’s shoes.  Barry laid the exposed wire into the liquid. Running back to the socket, he inserted the plug.

Benard let out a loud gasp as the electrical volts coursed through his body.  Barry pulled the plug and the giant fell to the floor, unconscious.

From the beaker, Steve and Dan watched stunned as their captor suddenly disappeared under the table.  Straining to see what was going on, they were even more amazed when Barry climbed over the edge.

“Barry, run!” Steve yelled, horrified.  “The giant—”

“It’s all right,” he replied calmly, approaching the jar.  “I electrocuted him.  He’s gonna be out of it for a while.”

The men glanced at each other in astonishment.  “Where’d you learn to do that?” Dan asked.

“From an old murder movie,” he responded like it was no big deal as he searched the counter for something to aid their escape.

“Barry,” Steve called, bringing the boy back. “Can you pull up that cord over there,” he pointed to the heating unit, “and toss it in here?”

“I can try.”

Dan and Steve held their breaths and crossed their fingers as they watched Barry struggle with the wire.  It wasn’t particularly heavy, just difficult for the boy to pull up on his own.  At first, because most of its weight was below the table as Barry pulled the wire up, it slid back down again.  After a few trials, Barry braced himself against the Bunsen burner, piling the cord behind him as he brought it up.  This time the cord stayed on the table. 

However, when Barry went to toss the improvised lifeline over the lip of the container, the opening proved to be too high, the cord too light.

“Tie it around the hatchet,” suggested Dan.

That too failed.  The wire was too thick to stay tightly wound and the hatchet slipped out.

“Can you break the glass?” asked Steve.

“You’ll be cut!”

“Better cut than dissected!” Dan told him.

Steve and Dan, having little expectation as they had tried this in the past with zero success, nevertheless, kept their fingers crossed, hoping this glass was thinner or maybe had a production flaw. Covering their heads with their jackets, they waited. 

Outside, Barry swung at the beaker with all his might.  The glass didn’t break nor crack, not even after several hits.

“Captain!” Barry screamed out.

The men dropped their jackets, rushing to the glass in alarm.  Barry, in his determination to break the container, had failed to see Benard rising in back of him until it was too late.

“At this rate,” the giant smirked at the boy struggling in his fist, “I’ll be rich enough to start my own research center.” He dropped the boy in besides the others.

“You all right?” Dan asked, both men helping him to his feet.

“Yeah,” Barry pouted, hanging his head low, his confidence deflated.

Steve took him by the shoulders, leaning down. “You did great, Barry,” he reassured him.  “Just remember, you were rescuing us.”  With that, the boy’s face brightened.

Rubbing his sore neck, Benard whirled at the sound of the door opening.  “Doctor Raggal!” he said as he superior joined him.  “What are you doing back?”

“I-ah…” Raggal glanced at the counter, his head doing a double-take at the three little people now held captive.  His lips thinned, but only briefly.  With a smile, he turned back to Benard.  “Little people, very good, Benard!” he said, giving him a proud pat on the back.  “This will go far in advancing our experiments.”

Steve’s eyes shot from one man to another, uncertain as what to believe and whom.  But one thing hadn’t changed.  “Check the solution!” he shouted.  “He’s been sabotaging your work!”

Raggal’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Dan stepped beside Steve.  “He put a chemical in the formula that made it turn clear.  He’s been doing it all along!”

“Is this true, Benard?” Raggal’s eyes hardened as he spun to his assistant.

“Cour-course not,” he stuttered, sweat beading on his forehead.

With a curt nod, Raggal hurried to the antidote, which again had turned to a bright orange.  Pulling a test strip from the drawer, he inserted the paper into the liquid.  Withdrawing it, he waited. The paper began to change colors. 

But Benard wasn’t about to wait around.  His eyes narrowed, and with anger and hatred written all over his face, he made his way toward the main door under the pretense of straightening up the rooms. When his boss wasn’t paying attention, he slipped out the door.

Steve snapped upright.  “Raggal!  Benard’s getting away!”

Raggal didn’t chase him.  Instead, to the Earthlings’ surprise, the scientist calmly went to the telephone, dialing in a three-digit number.

“Security, this is Doctor Raggal.  I have the proof in my hands.  Benard’s making a run for it right now.   Call me when you’ve caught him.”  Hanging up, he went back to the counter.

“You knew?!” Dan sputtered.

The doctor nodded. “I may not know how to deal with people, little or otherwise, but I do know my chemistry.  How are your friends doing?”

“Not good.” Steve said, his tone solemn.

“They’re both unconscious,” added Dan.

“I’ll have a new batch mixed up soon.”

“If you knew then why go through the charade of having Mark help you?” Dan demanded.

“I knew Benard was sabotaging the formula, but I didn’t know how or when, or in what way. Your friend had no reason to lie to me, therefore, I was confident that this batch was good.”

 -/-/-

The minutes felt like hours as Raggal prepared the new lot. Finally, the dose was ready.  On the laboratory table, the remaining little people watched with stern, anxious faces as Raggal, with Steve and Dan’s help, administered the oral elixir to Mark and Betty via droplets off of a giant needle.  After a few minutes, when neither came around, the anxious looks began to turn to panic.  

“It’s not working!!” Valerie shouted, with an exasperated shake of her head.

“Give it time,” Raggal soothed with experienced patience. “Not everything works instantaneously.”  He was bent over the table as close as he dared, his eyes glued on the comatose pair, watching along with the little people for signs of recovery.  This time Valerie cradled Mark’s head on her lap while Fitzhugh held Betty’s.

A long thirty minutes later, almost in unison, Mark and Betty’s eyes flickered open.  Both began to gag, cough, and gasp for air; the actions so violent as to add a new level of distress to their friends. 

Mark rolled over onto his stomach as the frightened and helpless Valerie kneeled next to him, rubbing his back.  “Mark?  Are you all right?”

He nodded, his coughing subsiding enough to allow him to pull himself to all fours. 

In the meantime, Dan had helped Betty into a sitting position.  “What’s wrong?” he demanded of them as he rubbed her back as well.  Her spasm continued to the point where her face had turned deep red.  

Alarmed, Raggal brought over a spoon with cold water on it, holding it between them.  The two went for it without hesitation, both ducking nearly their entire head into the clear water.  Betty rose up first.  “Ohhh!” she exclaimed, pushing the wet hair out of her eyes, “That’s so much better!”

“What was wrong?  What’s the matter?” Barry asked, afraid, his face pale as he held Chipper tight.

“The most God awful taste you can imagine!” announced Mark, taking another sip.

Betty nodded. “I’ve never tasted anything as bad as that in all my life!”

As their coughing and gagging subsided, Mark noticed the doctor observing them.  “Were we given the counteractive?”

“Yes,” answered Steve.

A smile coming to her face, Betty glanced at Mark than at Raggal.  “Does this mean we’ll be all right?”

“I can’t be sure for a couple of days,” Raggal admitted, “but I think so.  When I’m sure, I’ll let you return to your friends.”

Mark looked at him with misgivings.  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather go back now.”

“Same here,” Betty quickly added.

“But I have to run tests, make sure it’s safe.”

The little people glanced at each other unsure, uneasy and unhappy about it.

“Well,” Betty sighed, sitting back on her haunches, “it can’t be any worse waiting here than it would be at camp.  Anyone have a deck of cards?”

Chuckles of nervousness, relief, and outright joy were heard among the group.  Valerie, delighted to have Betty conscious again, gave her roommate a firm hug.

-/-/-

Despite the beautiful day, everyone in Spindrift camp was glum as they did their assigned chores.  It had been seven days since they’d last seen their companions, and they were all feeling the lack of their presence.

“How does that feel, Barry?” asked Steve.  The new backpack was finally ready for testing.  Made from the handkerchief the threesome had brought back some four weeks ago, and bicycle spokes found at the water runoff dump.

Valerie sat not far from them, braiding horse’s hair they had again collected from the racetrack.   Excited, fidgety, and unable to concentrate any longer, she abruptly flung her hands up in surrender.  “Skipper,” she pouted, her voice tinged with frustration, “Raggal said they’d be coming home today.  Can’t we please call them?  To see if their on their way, at least?”

Steve glanced around at the others, noting they had all stopped what they were doing and were now staring at him with that same hopeful, pleading look.  “All right,” he said with all seriousness. “To ease your minds, but remember, they may not be within radio range.  The contact point stopped at the building itself.”  He walked to a sprig where the radio was suspended.  “But if you’ve twisted my arm,” he busted out into a chuckle, “you’ve twisted my arm.”  Taking the handset, he felt a pillow—the one Valerie had been sitting on—hit him in the back of the head.  He halted, a funny look crossing his face.  He then raised the antenna.  “Mark, this is Steve.  Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” Wilson’s voice called back.  But it wasn’t over the radio.  He and Betty, grinning from ear-to-ear, stepped from the forest perimeter.

In a heartbeat, everyone was at their side, offering joyous greetings of  “Welcome Home.”

“ ’bout time you got back here,” Steve growled at Mark, followed by a big grin and a tight handshake.

Dan, letting Betty go, glanced over her.  “You look wonderful!”

The woman blushed.  “Yeah, well, regular meals will do that to you.” She gave Barry and Valerie a hug in turn, squatting down to ruffle Chipper’s head.

“How do you feel?” Steve asked, turning so he could address both of them.

Betty shrugged, shaking her head, grinning.  “Just fine.  No ill effects of any kind.”

“I feel like I’ve slept for a month,” Mark nodded.

“That’s because you practically have!” Barry said, drawing laughter from the others.

“Nice to have you home,” Steve said, his arms around Betty in a hug.

“Here, here!” shouted Valerie.  “Now if only we had something to celebrate with.”

“Well, to be honest,” a sly, knowing grin slid onto Mark’s face, “we have.  Doctor Raggal loaded us down with as much food as we could carry, and left a small bottle of wine, the airline type, by the back grate.”

“Then let’s go celebrate!” urged Valerie.  Being stranded on the planet hadn’t killed her desire for having a good time.

“You know, Steve,” Dan said, looking thoughtful, “Raggal didn’t have to help us.  Nor did he have to let any of us go.”

“I know,” nodded Steve, “and I’m very grateful for it.”

“Then let’s thank him for his generosity.”

 “How?” Steve shook his head.  “We have nothing to give him.”

“Actually, we do.  The lubricating oil.  It worked like a miracle on Fitzhugh’s poison ivy, remember?”

“That it did.  Well, when we go to get the, ah,” Steve cleared his throat, “wine,” he teased, having fun watching Val’s eyes light up, “we can give it to him.”

“No need to wait,” Dan answered.  “Barry! Grab that bucket of oil!  I don’t know about anybody else, but  I’m ready for some wine.”

-/-/-

Having once more returned to the Harriman Research Center, Fitzhugh, Barry, Valerie and Betty waited in the tunnel while Steve, Dan and Mark conversed with Raggal from the lab’s counter.  Raggal’s eye was pressed into the microscope.

“What do you think, Doctor?” shouted up Dan.

“Extraordinary.  We used to burn this weed to eradicate it because it grew fast and was everywhere, but… but it looks different now.  “You said you heated up the oil from it?”

“Yes,” answered Steve.

Gentlemen…” Raggal raised his head, “I’ve never seen anything like this.  What you’ve given me could just revolutionize our medical field.”

Pleased and proud, Steve and Mark looked thankfully at Dan, the initiator of the reward.

Meanwhile in the vent, Fitzhugh rubbed his hands together.  “Hurry up, comrades, my tongue is just waiting to taste that delicious and refreshing beverage.”

Chuckling at him, Betty spotted his numerous cloth covered fingertips.  She grabbed his hands, examining them.  “Fitzhugh, what happened to your hand?”

Behind them, Val and Barry began to laugh.  Hearing them, Fitz raised his head, his indignation turning into lofty pride.  “I, Miss Hamilton,” he said with the grandiose of a king, “while you were gone was brave enough to try and mend my own withering socks.”

To which Valerie called over Fitz’s shoulder, “And he struck himself so many times, we almost had to give him a blood transfusion,” she giggled.

“Ahhh,” Betty cooed in sympathy. Raising his hand, she tenderly kissed his finger, bringing a content—and smug—grin to his face.

-/-/-

The time arrived when the little people could head for home where they’d be able to enjoy the fruits of their trepidations and fears.  Reunited at last, the others could finally also get a full accounting about their companions nightmares and of their week in voluntary captivity. 

On the journey, Barry, Fitzhugh and Betty were at the front in the line, Valerie and Mark trailing behind, with Steve and Dan, the wine bottle hoisted onto their shoulders, in the middle.  After a few time with Wilson, Valerie scooted ahead, falling in step next to Betty..

 “So did I really walk in my sleep?” Betty asked, the thought obviously having been gnawing at her.

Val sprouted a big amused grin.  “Not only did you walk, you talked and made a sandwich!  And after we get home, I’ll fill you in on some of the other things you said and did while you were sleepwalking.”

“What I said?” Betty laughed.  “It couldn’t have been anything bad, that’s for sure.”

“Ummm,” Valerie wet her lips as she locked her hands behind her back. “While you were talking with your roommate, Annie, you mentioned a certain pilot she liked.  A pilot you called ‘frigid’.

A knowing look came to Betty’s eyes as her cheeks turned pink.  “Did I give a name?”

“He was in the room….”

      ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~