Thirteen: Judgement

 

 (Note—Kudos to JSL151, who suggested the comedy routines in this chapter. Thanks, James!)

   

 St. Luke’s Hospital

Columbus, North Carolina

Friday

    Canfield barked her knee against a crate as she hurried towards Ellie’s unmoving form. Clenching her teeth, she hopped on one foot, waiting for the pain radiating up her leg from her kneecap to diminish, her eyes never leaving Ellie’s supine form. She stepped onto the soft carpet of Ellie’s hair. Its thickness made it slippery and Canfield almost lost her footing but recovered. She clambered on top of the nearest of the crates making up the shelf supporting Ellie’s head and shoulders, grunting with the effort. The tops of the boxes and crates sagged under her weight, slowing her headlong rush. Cursing softly, she grabbed at the shoulder of Ellie’s bodice for support and struggled towards her head.

    Canfield was gasping for breath as she reached up and pressed her hand into the soft, warm skin of Ellie’s neck, feeling, searching. She located the place where Ellie’s pulse spot should be and froze, trying to calm the shaking of her own hands and arms long enough to feel the thrust of blood through Ellie’s carotid artery that would signal her heart beating.

    There was no pulse.

    "No," Canfield said. Every medical technique for treating cardiac arrest raced through her mind. She shook her head. Resuscitating a normal-sized patient was challenging enough—Ellie would be an impossibility. She found herself wishing she could hold Ellie’s hand in her own, but that was another impossibility. At her wit’s end Canfield recalled a lesson given her by her first mentor, a gnarled, elderly medical man whose faith and compassion did more for his patients than any amount of sophisticated equipment or extensive education. She took a deep breath.

 

    "Don’t you do this, Ellie," Canfield said, desperately hoping that Ellie could hear her. "Don’t you do this. You come back now, you hear? You come back to Steve. You come back—"

    A lump rose into Canfield’s throat, choking off her words. She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. Odegard had climbed up behind her and reached out to her in a gesture of sympathy. Canfield swallowed and fought down the sense of loss rising inside her. She turned back and moved closer to Ellie’s ear.

    "It’s not your time yet, Eleanor Andersen," she said. "It’s not your time. You come back to us. You—ah!"

    A jabbing sensation erupted under her hand. So strong was the pulse that Canfield felt it all the way up her arm to her shoulder. She pressed her hand back and was rewarded with another pulse, and another. Canfield lessened the pressure against Ellie’s neck as a steady beat tapped against her fingers. Canfield sighed and bent her head, her husband’s hand still on her shoulder. She blinked away her tears. Habit and training directed her to look at her wristwatch and count the number of pulse beats. An echoing noise suddenly filled the room. It was the sound of Ellie drawing in air. Ellie’s head and neck shifted under Canfield’s fingers as her rib cage expanded. Then she exhaled, her sweet breath washing over Canfield and Odegard.

    Canfield took one step back from Ellie, as her deep, deliberate breathing continued. She turned and looked into the eyes of her husband. She smiled a slow, relieved smile. They embraced.

    "Oh, Thank God," Canfield said. She broke her husband’s grip but still kept hold of his hand. She turned back to look at Ellie.

    "What happened, Jo?" Odegard asked.

    "I don’t know," Canfield replied. She looked across Ellie’s body. Ellie’s chest continued to rise and fall, slowly and rhythmically, drawing in great breaths of air. The sheer volume of each breath was astonishing.

    Canfield’s observations were interrupted by a small sound from Steve. He was cocooned in a hospital blanket, one arm draped across his middle, the other behind his head. As she and Odegard watched, he turned onto his side away from them, rolling up against the broad double curve of Ellie’s breasts. He murmured something they could not hear and began to snore softly, gently rocked by the rise and fall of her bosom. As if in response Ellie shifted, squirming to one side and then back, the boxes under her shoulders moving in sympathy. She uttered a small, delicate sound and turned her head towards Canfield. Both Canfield and Odegard gasped in unison. Ellie’s head, framed by hair trapped between her shoulders and the boxes that made up her crude pillow, was obviously bigger than Canfield was tall. Her eyelids were parted slightly and her mouth fell open as she took another breath. Her expression was serene and astonishingly beautiful—she looked younger than her twenty-one years. Ellie shifted again, as though she were trying to find a more comfortable position. As Canfield and Odegard watched her arm twitched, as did her hand. She began to extend her arm, brushing it along the floor. It bulldozed Canfield’s makeshift futon into a ball, then stopped as her hand came into contact with the empty hospital bed. Ellie sighed. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth for a moment, then faded.

    Canfield and Odegard looked at one another.

    "I thought we’d lost her," Canfield said. Her smile was weary. "Just for a moment she had no pulse. But she came back. I think she’s just fallen asleep."

    "Asleep?"

    Canfield nodded. Her smile grew broader.

    "She’s asleep."

    "But the volume of the air she’s taking in—"

    "I think you’d be drawing that much air, too, dearest, if you were as big as she is. Just how big is she now, I wonder?"

    Odegard squeezed his wife’s hand and stepped back, looking Ellie up and down. He pursed his lips and his expression went blank. He seemed lost in thought. His wife adopted a similar pose. Save for the sounds of Ellie’s breathing the receiving bay was silent.

    "I don’t know," Odegard said after a moment. He looked from one side of the bay to the other, and then his eyes traced the length of Ellie’s body. "If my eyes aren’t deceiving me this room is about eleven meters—thirty five feet—across. I think she’s around the fifty-foot mark."

    "Fifty feet tall," Canfield echoed. She whistled softly. "She must have been growing at almost two feet an hour just before now. No wonder she felt weak and tired."

    Canfield stopped, staring intently at Ellie’s face. Odegard observed his wife’s scrutiny for a moment then touched her shoulder again.

    "What is it, Jo?"

    "Something just occurred to me," Canfield replied, not taking her eyes off Ellie’s face. "If her growth rate had accelerated that much, we should be able to watch her grow—two feet an hour is almost a half-inch a minute. We should be seeing the changes in her body. I was looking at the shadow of her nose across her cheek."

    She pointed. Odegard followed her finger to the shade across Ellie’s face cast by the fluorescent light over her head.

    "Shouldn’t the shadow be lengthening gradually as her face gets bigger?"

    "Yes," Odegard replied. He reached out and pressed his thumb into Ellie’s skin while exerting less pressure with his other fingers. Pausing, he closed his eyes. After a moment he looked at his wife.

    "She’s stopped growing?" he said wonderingly. "I don’t feel any stretching of the skin under my hand."

    Canfield nodded.

    "Time will tell, dearest, but I think she’s stopped. Maybe whatever that alien orb did to her is finished now. Remember, she said she couldn’t sleep at all any night since she started growing? Now look at her. The lack of eye movement makes this stage two sleep at least. I think her growing has run its course."

    "And she’s at least fifty feet tall," Odegard said. He ran his eyes across Ellie’s massive form, her head propped up against the wall to the ceiling, her knees butted against the high roof, her feet pressed against the opposite wall thirty feet away. "My God, what’s going to happen to her?"

    Canfield shook her head. "I don’t know, dearest. I don’t think anyone does. But, we’ve got work to do here. We’ve got to get Steve off her chest before she rolls over in her sleep and drops him on the floor. That’s quite a drop there."

    Canfield pivoted on her heel. She stopped dead, then put her hands on her hips and snorted in derision. Odegard turned as well. Despite his exhaustion he felt a real smile cross his face as he observed what had earned his wife’s disdain.

    The team of twelve observers, in their bulky, enveloping, sky-blue anticontamination suits, stood in a single group. Not one gloved hand twitched. Each booted foot seemed planted in the concrete floor. The entire group looked like overdressed statues, motionless and inert. Canfield could only make out the expression of the one member—the one not dressed in the anonymous blue suits. Bernard, Canfield remembered she said her name was. Her mouth was open, her eyes unblinking. With her bleached pageboy haircut and boggled eyes she resembled a pre-teenager frozen after being caught in the midst of some sort of mischief.

    Despite the situation Canfield felt a grin crease her face. She began waving at the watchers. The meaning of her broad gestures was obvious, but no one among the observers moved. Canfield snorted again and retraced her steps back down to the floor, pausing to watch her husband follow. Once Odegard was safely down on the ground she pointed him towards the empty hospital bed. Odegard nodded and stretched his long legs in the direction of the bed, gingerly hopping over Ellie’s outstretched arm and kicking away the offending catheter Steve had left behind. Canfield lifted her chin, put on her authoritative face, and marched up to the observer team.

    "What, has time come to a standstill?" she asked. At the sound of her voice the entire group seemed to come to life. Some of the watchers blinked and turned to look at one another like they had just awoken from a short sleep. Canfield slapped at Bernard’s suit. The hollow noise of her hand on the tough plastic caught Bernard’s attention.

    "Are you the one in charge here?" Canfield asked. Bernard stared at her dumbly.

    "I am addressing the living?" Canfield asked, her expression increasingly caustic.

    "I—ah, yes. Yes, I’m the one—" Bernard began. Canfield cut her off.

    "Good. Wake up the rest of your goons and have them get two stepladders and an extension ladder. You want the extension ladder to be at least twenty feet long. Tell them to get the ladders in here as soon as they can."

    "But, why—"

    "Ellie has fallen asleep," Canfield replied. "After seven days of hypergigantism onset coupled with chronic insomnia. She’s probably going to be out for a while. Now, she has Steven lying across her chest. She may roll onto one side or the other after a while, and that’s going to drop him on the floor. What you’re going to do is put a stepladder on either side of her near her shoulders and stretch the extension ladder across them over her chest. Have your people walk across the ladder to pick up Steven without disturbing Ellie and bring him down here so I can get the stitches out of him."

    "Wait a minute." Bernard shook her head. She was clearly bewildered by the orders Canfield had just given her. "Why—what’s the point? If we need to we could have someone just slide onto her chest and drag him off."

    "Okay by me," Canfield replied evenly. She grinned again. "Hope you make sure the person you send to do that is a volunteer. Ellie may swat him off her chest."

    Canfield turned, pointing at Ellie’s relaxed hand lying on the floor beside the bed. Bernard’s eyes followed. Her mouth fell open again as she seemed to realize for the first time just how large Ellie’s hand was.

    "Ellie would never hurt anyone intentionally, but as a psychologist I’m sure you’re aware that in stage two sleep the conscious mind turns off," Canfield continued. Bernard’s uncomprehending look spoke volumes. She seemed suddenly to realize Canfield’s deduction of her ignorance. The blush that flooded her face contrasted starkly with her bleached hair.

    "It is to your advantage not to disturb her until she makes up for the sleep she lost this last week," Canfield said after pausing for a moment. "I’m sure you military boys have some ladders that’ll do the job."

 

The White House

Washington, DC

    General Bertram Forster juggled his briefcase and adjusted his uniform jacket before stepping across the threshold of the Green Room in the White House. Despite spending the last ten hours in the most unique conference he ever experienced, followed by a rapid trip from the Charlotte International Airport to Dulles in an Air Force C-141 and a hair-raising ride through the snowstorm currently shutting down Washington, D.C., he had managed to preserve his neat, parade-ground appearance. He removed his cap as he entered the room and stood at attention.

    The ornate antique seating drawn in a circle around the room was crowded with occupants. Forster recognized the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. General Conrad McAllister was also present, looking aggressive as ever. Beside him Joseph Cain, Domestic Affairs Advisor to the President, shared a brocade couch with the Attorney General and the President’s Press Secretary. The President, looking harried and bewildered, slouched in a Louis XVI chair. Forster looked more carefully at the unfamiliar faces. One was an Army brigadier, the other four civilians.

    "Hello, Bert," the Chairman said, rising to his feet. "I think you know most of the people here, but meet General Herb Morgan of the Judge Advocate General’s office, Quentin Wilkerson, Federal Emergency Management Agency chief, FBI Director Edward Aldrich and Mr. Suessenach."

Forster nodded to each in turn, stopping at Suessenach.

"Who do you work for, Mr. Suessenach?"

Suessenach smiled. Like his face his smile was thin and colorless.

"Special Projects," he replied. Forster recognized immediately that Suessenach’s brief, vague description was all the explanation he was going to get. Before he could speak to the fourth party—a thin elderly woman whose placid expression contrasted strongly with her sharp eyes—the President impatiently waved Shelton back to his seat and gestured to Forster to stand beside him.

"You’re back from Raleigh, General?" the President asked.

"Yes, sir. I have prepared a briefing for you."

"Good, that’s fine. Everybody, let’s pay attention to General Forster. Okay, let’s have it."

Forster slipped open his briefcase and retrieved a sheaf of briefing folders grossly decorated with red-and-white striped TOP SECRET warnings. He handed the folders around the room. His presentation took fifteen minutes. He paused twice in his delivery to distribute photographs to the assemblage around him. The result was striking. The room went silent for five full minutes. The President looked from one photograph to the other, his ruddy complexion paling. Most of the others’ reactions were similar.

"This—this is, ah—remarkable," the President said. He turned to Aldrich. "The Bureau has confirmed all of the points in Andersen’s story?"

"Yes, sir," Aldrich replied. "A week ago she was a ex-student working to finance her return to college. Every statement she made in that video interview has been verified. We have no reason to doubt the veracity of her subsequent statements."

"And it’s—it’s not a hoax of some sort?"

"No, sir," Forster replied. "Today, she’s over forty feet tall and still growing. We have the object she claims is responsible for her gigantism. It should be at the Lawrence Livermore labs—" he looked at his watch— "now. She checks out and those pictures aren’t lying."

The silence grew long again. People began fidgeting in their seats. A cough was quickly muffled. The President dropped his copies of the photos on the carpeted floor. Every face in the room turned toward the Chief Executive. He straightened in his chair.

"Okay, what’s been done so far?"

"Mr. President, our first concern is the status of the Eighteenth Airborne," the Chairman replied. "I have ordered the Third Army Corps be activated immediately and prepared for transport to North Carolina. The Fourth Infantry and First Cavalry Divisions should be moving by nightfall."

"Why do you need more soldiers, General?" the Attorney General asked. "Isn’t one Army Corps enough?"

"Madam Attorney General, the infantry currently on the ground in Polk County have been in MOPP-4 posture since this thing began. Being stuck inside their suits for so long degrades their performance. They should be relieved and allowed to stand down for a while. Rotating other units in will allow us to keep Polk county quarantined and our troops fresh."

"Hopefully, that won’t be necessary for much longer. This situation is really pushing the envelope," the President said. He turned to Forster. "Okay. This woman came into contact with some extraterrestrial object and its made her grow into a giant. Has she changed in any other way? Is she, ah, human, otherwise?"

"As far as we can tell, yes, sir. The psych boys observing her tell us every reaction they have seen is consistent with normal human behavior, given the circumstances. Of course, what’s happened to her is so outside anybody’s experience that evaluating her personality is almost pure guesswork at this point."

"So they know, but they don’t know," the President replied. He looked around the room again. "Okay. What are the government’s options in this matter?"

"Mr. President, as I see it we’ve one option available to us," Cain said. His speech was as neat as his appearance. "General Shelton has reactivated the China Bravo containment facility. We can transport the Andersen woman there. That way we can take care of her and ensure the safety of the rest of the populace at the same time."

"Lawyers representing Miss Andersen have already filed suit in court, demanding her release from custody," the Attorney General objected. "There is also the concern of the suit filed today alleging the attempted murder of Miss Andersen and members of her family by military forces. My office received letters from the leadership of both parties in Congress this morning demanding an investigation. Under these circumstances I’ve little choice but to appoint a special prosecutor—"

"Okay, okay," the President interrupted. He cringed visibly at the words special prosecutor.

"The Judge Advocate General’s office also intends to begin its own investigation as well, sir," Morgan said. The commander of the JAG office looked troubled. "The covert activities of the Paradigm Cordon are going to have a serious impact on both the existence of the DART organization and the U.S. military as a whole."

The organization I had created and funded, the President thought. He sighed.

"Mr. President, the only other alternative is simply to release Miss Andersen into the general population," Cain said, leaning forward in his seat, his expression set. "This is something we can’t possibly do. The panic that will ensue—"

"Mr. Cain, however big she may happen to be, Miss Andersen is an American citizen," the Attorney General said. She grasped her hands together firmly to quiet their tremors. "Like it or not, she has rights. Since she is now public it is going to be impossible to secret her away, which probably was the intention of the lawyers filing suit in seven separate federal courts—it was a publicity ploy that worked. Chief Justice Donohue in San Francisco has scheduled a hearing into the allegations on Monday. If there is no convincing evidence she is a danger to herself or others the rule of law will apply. Gunther, Chellis and Berznieks has publicly suggested using the Americans with Disabilities Act to protect her."

"You’re joking," Cain retorted. "What, we’re just going to let her walk off down a street somewhere? Forster just said the scientists estimate her body weight at over forty tons. She could crush a pedestrian or a car just by stepping on it. People are going to be terrified of her. No, for the sake of public safety she must be incarcerated—"

"There is a third alternative," a thin, quiet voice said. Everyone turned to Suessenach. He was staring at the wall, a fixed smile on his face.

"What is that?" Shelton asked.

"Eliminate her."

"What?" The startled chorus echoed in the room.

"What do you mean, ‘eliminate’? You mean, kill her?" the President asked. Suessenach’s eyes flickered briefly towards the Chief Executive, and then back to the wall.

"Her removal is the only way to guarantee the safety of the United States, as well as the rest of the world."

"What the hell does the rest of the world have to do with this?" McAllister asked, his close-cropped hair bristling.

"Nothing—or, everything," Suessenach replied. "What has happened to her fits in with one of the worst-case scenarios of a IGSS study."

Most of the attendees looked bewildered at Suessenach’s pronouncement.

"The Institute for Global Strategic Studies is a think tank of scientists," Suessenach offered by way of explanation. He gestured vaguely out the nearest window. "They considered the possibility of alien visitation to Earth in great detail ten years ago. They predicted that overt, provable evidence of an alien encounter, of any kind—and this giant is living proof of an encounter, more so than any U.F.O. wreckage or purported alien bodies found in the desert—would cause catastrophic changes worldwide. Established cultural institutions would break down. Estimates are that in excess of one million deaths would occur in the first year as a result of such an upheaval. Anarchy would rule. Just the reactions to news reports about her throughout the world are instructive. The EU Health Ministry and the Russian Confederation have issued directives requiring all physicians to report and quarantine anyone who seems to suffer her condition immediately. Australia, Japan, Thailand, India and China have done the same. Tehran has decreed that any female who shows signs of sudden gigantism be put to death and the other Middle Eastern nations may follow suit. Latin American countries are demanding more information. The same story is being repeated in every informed government across the Earth. Everyone is running scared."

"What a load of garbage," McAllister growled. "Just because she touched some extraterrestrial object and grew into a giant does not mean an alien intelligence was involved. Some theoretical exercise by a bunch of Beltway bandits and you’re telling us she’s going to bring civilization to an end? Get real."

Suessenach did not reply but his smile grew broader. The silence that followed was total and unpleasant.

"There is considerable public clamor, Mr. President," the Press Secretary said suddenly. "All the major news organizations report that their affiliates are being jammed with calls asking for more information. The Nielsen ratings for every national news program are higher now than they were at the start of the Gulf War. People are very interested and concerned about what has happened to this Andersen woman—and what might happen. If the latest public opinion polls are any indication Eleanor Andersen is the most important thing to happen here since Adam bit the apple."

"Both the Attorney General’s and my offices have been flooded with calls as well," Cain added. "There have been isolated reports of people drawing their money out of banks and closing up their businesses. Governor Symington reports that the highways leading out of Charlotte and Asheville are more crowded than usual. All of the traffic is away from Polk County. In light of the extraordinary public interest and potential public reaction some state governors asked if you intend to invoke Executive Orders 16-33 or 11-61. Others are asking if we intend to federalize state and local police departments. Should we—"

"Mr. President, invoking those Orders would only exacerbate problems right now," the Attorney General interrupted. "We’ve enough trouble as it is. We don’t need more. I remind you that two innocent people have died already at government hands. The public and the Congress are going to demand the military and its Commander-in-Chief answer questions about that and the injuries caused to the others. I was informed just prior to coming here that Hadad’s extended family in Lebanon—" Reno paused. The President’s face was blank. "—the man killed by Lang in Polk County—has sought permission to file a wrongful death suit in U.S. court. That makes three separate parties all suing the government and the military for actions already taken, plus an investigation by one state AG office and the possibility of another in New York. Increasing government presence right now will contribute as much to any public panic as this woman."

"What the hell happened in New York?" the President asked. It was General McAllister who answered.

"Sir, I understand that at the behest of Dr. William Turner the homes of Miss Andersen and Doctor Preston’s in upstate New York were quarantined after it was learned Andersen was present in each place. Both residences later burned down. Also, it has been reported that a push-in robbery at a church in the city of Yonkers may have been another facet of this operation." McAllister’s face grew grim. "A priest was pistol-whipped during the robbery and only marriage records were stolen."

"Are you telling me that DART committed arson and robbery?"

"Yes, sir. Colonel Lang reported his activities in full to General Chafee at HARVESTMAN. I am trying to determine the whereabouts of Doctor Preston subsequent to his detention by Lang’s people five days ago."

"Didn’t this Lang tell his commander?"

"Not in so many words, sir. I’m afraid Doctor Preston may have been treated with extreme prejudice by DART at Lang’s direction, and possibly his wife as well."

"Oh, my God." The President went white as the shirt he wore. He weaved for a few seconds in his seat, then leaned forward and braced his head in his hands.

"You have my recommendation," Suessenach said, never taking his eyes from the wall. A low-voiced, intense discussion began, moving back and forth across the room. After some twenty minutes the President held up his hands, quieting the group.

"It is pretty obvious there is no consensus here," he said. "We have basically three choices: detaining her, temporarily or otherwise, doing nothing, or the other solution." He suddenly seemed to realize the phrase he had used, and he flushed. "All the evidence gathered so far seems to point to the entire event being an incredible accident rather than some deliberate act. A decision has to be made: is she human, or something else now?" His chronic hoarseness began to manifest itself again. He cleared his throat and nodded to the group. "Thank you all for your input." He turned to his Press Secretary. "Mike, call a press conference for nine o’clock. That’s all."

The meeting quickly broke up. Suessenach was the first out the door, followed by the Attorney General, Cain and the Press Secretary. The President rose from his chair and turned to the one person who had remained silent during the entire briefing.

"I imagine you know why I called you into this meeting, Ginny."

The elderly woman stood slowly.

"Take whatever you think you’ll need. Please start right away."

"I’m not as young as I used to be, Mr. President."

"I need help on this matter right now, Ginny." He looked at his wristwatch. "I’ll be addressing the nation and the world on this event in just over two hours. Mike and Ed are right—this Andersen woman is causing a lot of controversy and concern. The position we take is going to have repercussions around the world. I’ve always respected your good sense, Ginny. I’ll back up whatever decision you come to."

 

St. Luke’s Hospital

Columbus, North Carolina

Even though it was full dark outside the first floor trauma center continued crowded, confused and noisy. Dressed in bulky protective suits, over fifty military medical technicians from every service were crammed into its space, herding anxious—and increasingly restive—civilians through the tests that were becoming part of their routine. From his vantage point on one of the examination beds Steven Carter could only see the feet and legs of the other occupants in the room, as Canfield had closed the privacy screen while she removed the sutures from his chest.

Steve was silent. Aside from the occasional grimace he gave no sign of discomfort as Canfield removed the staples sealing his surgery, even though she had not applied any topical anesthetic to the wound. His eyes kept straying under the curtain. Canfield followed his gaze. They both could see the six pairs of MOPP-suit overshoes that stood in a circle outside the curtain—the soldiers who had escorted him, Canfield and Odegard from the receiving bay and away from Ellie.

Steve had been rudely awoken almost an hour before when he felt the hard bars of an aluminum ladder that made up a primitive scaffold spanning Ellie’s chest digging into his side. He was dragged across the ladder until he was clear of Ellie’s sleeping form, then thrown over the shoulder of a man like a sack of potatoes. He had squirmed free and promptly made for Ellie’s side, refusing to leave her. The diminutive Doctor Bernard—at her use of that title Canfield had muttered, "Doctor, my ass" under her breath—finally ordered in a squad of soldiers to escort him away from her. Steve was obstinate at first, and the troops became increasingly annoyed. Finally one soldier yanked the charging handle of his M-16 and pointed the assault rifle in his direction. At that threat Steve yielded. He was marched out of the bay, his face folded into the same furious expression Canfield observed now.

"I shouldn’t be able to do this, you know," Canfield said. Steve blinked and looked up at her.

"I’m sorry, Doc, what did you say?"

"I said I shouldn’t be able to do this. You suffered a major chest wound. In a normal patient surgery like this would take weeks to heal completely. I shouldn’t even be able to remove these sutures until at least five days post-op."

Steve nodded. The expression on his face softened.

"It’s Ellie, isn’t it?" he asked. Canfield stopped in mid-extraction and stared at Steve in surprise. His grimace told her a half-removed staple hurt, and she murmured an apology and removed it.

"It’s the only explanation I can think of," Canfield replied after a moment. "Just her touching you apparently made you heal at an incredible rate of speed."

Steve nodded. He smiled gently. There was a faraway look in his eyes. Canfield extracted the final staple from his skin and grabbed an antiseptic pad.

"Ellie told me I was badly hurt," he said. Canfield paused in her dabbing at his wound. She nodded slowly.

"That I wasn’t supposed to live through the night."

She nodded again.

"I owe her everything. Look."

Steve held up his hands. Canfield stared at them for a moment. Her mouth opened in astonishment.

"It’s been three days," Steve said softly. He rotated his hands, flexed them. Canfield saw that there was no evidence of any burns on his skin at all—no scar tissue, no hairless patches. "When my hands healed so fast I thought maybe the burns weren’t as serious as you’d said."

He turned to face Canfield and shrugged in apology. She grinned.

"I remember now how sick I felt that night. I remember Ellie rubbing my back, touching me. It felt so good." His expression was almost euphoric. He looked at Canfield again, and colored in embarrassment. Canfield smiled more broadly and nodded for him to continue.

"I love her, Doc. God, I love her. I want to take her out of here. I want to build her the most lavish home I can contrive. I want—"

He stopped, looking below the curtain surrounding the bed he occupied.

"I just want to hold her hand, right now. To comfort her. I want to just touch her hand."

Canfield nodded again.

"I keep thinking about what she said to me. About why I’m not scared of her, as big as she is. I suppose I should be scared, but I’m not. I’m not scared of her size at all. Does that make sense?"

Canfield busied herself, dabbing at the pinprick punctures left in his skin by the staples.

"You tell me, Steven. Should you be?"

Steve looked at Canfield for a moment.

"I don’t know how to say it Doc," he replied. "Everybody just looks at how big she has become. They all get scared of her. I don’t. I see her eyes, her smile. I see how kind she is, how caring. She’s so beautiful when she smiles. Her touch is soft, and warm, and so gentle. D’you know when I first brought her here she was so afraid of hurting me she was afraid to pick me up, to hold me? I-I love her, Doc. I love her more than I can explain. The minute I saw her I fell for her. I hope she will stay with me, for as long as she can—"

Canfield saw Steve’s eyes grow moist. His sincerity seemed to warm the air around him. Canfield felt herself blush at his vehemence. She smiled and grasped his shoulder.

"Steven, don’t you worry. She’ll be back with you soon."

Steve smiled and sniffed. The loud, muffled conversation around them was suddenly pierced by a small child’s screaming. Two voices—one female and strained, the other muffled by an anticontamination suit—tried to calm the child.

"But I don’t wanna get another needle, Mommy—" the child sobbed, then screamed again. Steve’s eyes and expression grew hard again.

"This has got to stop," he snapped. He began to rise from the bed. Canfield held him down.

"You can’t do anything about this, Steven," she said. Steve struggled against the weight of her hand for a moment, then stopped. He frowned.

"Somebody has got to," he muttered.

 

Bernard’s hair was driving her crazy. Several strands became charged with static when brushed against her hood and now dribbled in front of her eyes. She tried to blow the annoying things away. Her effort only fogged her hood. She found herself repeatedly trying to brush them away through the tough plastic of her hood. The strands were so annoying she had to restrain herself from violating containment protocols by trying to take it off.

She sighed and turned back to the Army major standing beside her, who stared at the giantesses’ massive form as she slept. Ellie lay on her side, one hand under her cheek to cushion it against the boxes that made her pillow. Her posture made her look remarkably innocent and childlike—if any child could have a face seven feet high and hands five feet long. The point of her upper shoulder stood better than twice Bernard’s height from the floor. Her breasts, pressed together between her arms, had to thrust out at least six feet into the room. Her belly was flat and visibly muscled, smoothly flowing into the modest swell of her mons. Her hip was higher in the air than her shoulder, curving into bent legs that clearly made up half her height before tapering to nine-foot long feet.

Looking at Ellie made Bernard feel vaguely uncomfortable, causing her heart to beat more strongly in her chest, making her deplete her suit’s air supply. There was something about her, something incredibly attractive and erotic. Perhaps it was her faint clothing—the torn cutoff top covering little more than half her massive breasts, her nipples and aureolae easily visible through the fabric. Or the tight, tight split miniskirt barely covering her hips, the thin triangular panty panel below it demurely pressed between her thighs, mostly covering yet outlining her labia. Or her pubic hair peeking between the tight panty waistband pressing into her skin and the hem of her skirt—

Bernard blinked, her static problem forgotten. Droplets of perspiration were flowing into her eyes. We’ve got to get her out of here, she thought.

"I’ll need to bring in my battalion to do it," the major said.

Bernard started. The major—who was attached to the 33^rd Engineering Battalion—was staring at her with the same expression he wore when looking at the giantess. She had spoken her thought aloud.

"You’d need—why? What would they have to do?"

"Well, Doctor, for openers, it looks like she’s wedged herself in that spot pretty tight," he replied. "At—thirty tons, you said?—she’ll be impossible to drag out of there."

The major gestured to the twisted wreckage of one of the ladders used to pull Carter from atop her chest, which was partially pinned under her shoulder. Bernard had finally managed to get the bigmouthed smartass away from the giantess and out of the room when Ellie suddenly rolled over in her sleep. She scraped her knees from the ceiling and rolled onto her right side, undoing the extemporized scaffold that had been carefully assembled over her chest—the extension ladder had fallen onto the empty hospital bed with a clatter and the feet of the near stepladder had been trapped under her shoulder, her movement snapping its braces and flattening it. A handful of observers had found themselves penned in between her shins and one corner of the bay as her kneecaps fell to within two feet of the inner wall. Ellie was now a bulwark effectively cutting off three-fourths of the space in the receiving bay. Despite the ladder falling on her chest and the subsequent noise and shouting she had continued to sleep, slipping one hand under her cheek for comfort, her breathing soft and regular. She shouldn’t have been able to do that, Bernard thought. Just like any normal person. She’s too big. She shouldn’t have been able to do that.

"We’ll have to bring in heavy equipment and personnel to knock down that wall and dig a trench, then find some sort of dolly or tarpaulin to put her on," the major continued. He turned back to Bernard, whose face had fallen into an angry, harassed expression. "Put it beside her then wait for her to roll over onto her back. Then we might be able to bring her out into the parking area. There’s another thing: We’ll need to look over the structural plans for the building. That’s a load-bearing wall, doctor. We’re about six feet below ground. You’re looking at least four full days or more to safely get her—" his gloved finger stabbed at Ellie— "out of here. Even then I’m not so sure we’ll be successful. I don’t know if we’ll find anything strong enough to draw that much weight."

"You people’ve dealt with heavier things than her before," Bernard snapped crossly. "I understand an Abrams tank weighs sixty tons and you can tow it away—"

"We’re not talking about an M-1," the major replied. "Put chains on her limbs and we’ll be pulling her out of here in pieces."

"Don’t be so sure," she said. The major turned fully on her. Being a big, heavyset man he towered over Bernard’s diminutive form.

"I will not order my people to do such a thing," he growled. "We’re engineers, not butchers."

Bernard waved in acquiescence. She focused on the anger she felt towards the engineer major for his obtuseness. It helped her not remember how attractive the giantess appeared.

 

Command Headquarters Alpha

Wicker and Fourth Streets

Columbus, North Carolina

The commander of the Eighty-Second Airborne Division suddenly snapped awake. He blinked and squinted at his surroundings. General Baumeister was sitting inside the armored box of an M-113 personnel carrier appropriated from a National Guard Armory in Asheville. The only lighting came from a blue-tinted dome light overhead. The light was faint and the figure hovering over him was not illuminated by it at all. He coughed once, adding to the moisture already fouling the mouthpiece of his hood.

"Huh? Uh, yes, what is it?" he said.

"Sir, General Van Slyck wants to see you," the figure said. It took a moment for the message to register with Baumeister. Then he groaned. Lieutenant General Neil Van Slyck was a robotic martinet who was able to quote the entire U.S. Army 32-3233 Procedures for Command and Control of Material and Personnel in Known Area of Contagion Manual from memory—all seven hundred fifty three pages of it. He also had displayed a total lack of knowledge of the operational arts needed to run an Army Corps and a marked insensitivity to the unusual—the extremely unusual, Baumeister thought—mission the big Eight-Two was currently undertaking. Baumeister would much have preferred dealing with his normal boss, Moskowicz, but orders were orders.

Baumeister almost stumbled as he stepped down the rear ramp of the APC. Compared to his cramped mobile command post the street outside was bright. A block away he could see the façade of the hospital where the giantess was penned up. Every window was lit. Illuminated by the lights coming from windows in the buildings behind them, a large assembly of people were standing immediately across the street from the hospital. Baumeister frowned. Despite the cold dampness of the air and the onset of full dark—his wristwatch told him it was 8:45—the group had continued to swell steadily. His trained eye told him nearly a hundred people now took up almost all the room on the sidewalk and were spilling out into the street.

"What the hell—" he began, then stopped. The soldier who had woken him was waiting patiently, and he picked up his feet. He flopped along, trying to ignore his stink trapped inside his suit and the scratching of his stubble against his rubber mask. His filter canister slipped from his belt and flopped in front of him, swinging on its air hose in front of him like an elephant’s trunk, puling at his mask. He grabbed it and stuffed it back.

As he passed by the mass of citizenry he could see they were broken into groups. One group, bearing lit candles and carrying bibles, were praying aloud. Another, composed mainly of teens, were clumped closely together, talking, some carrying boom boxes set respectfully low. The third and largest gathering was of families, some with small children at foot, who were staring silently at the hospital building. Baumeister had learned the hard way that many of the third group were often waiting for loved ones taken inside for their testing. He had tried to disperse them twice. When tempers got hot the second time some of his people lost it enough to begin fingering their weapons, and Baumeister called a halt to any further efforts. Wayne Moskowicz had been right in his briefing: this mission was unlike anything they had ever done before. He was utterly unsurprised that the military presence in Columbus—in Polk County, for that matter—was wearing out its welcome. He candidly hoped that his superiors would soon recognize that fact and pull them out soon. Soldiers were trained to defeat an enemy using fire, maneuver and shock effect—to kill. They made lousy police officers. Baumeister wondered when the powers-that-be would recognize the fact.

Baumeister found Van Slyck sitting in the office that used to belong to the hospital administrator. The original contents of the desk in the office had been carelessly pushed onto the floor and swept into a corner. Van Slyck looked up as Baumeister entered. He was a medium-sized man with a beaky nose and a receding chin. His nose was so long it almost pressed against the faceplate of his suit as he craned his neck to look up at Baumeister.

"I’ve just gotten orders from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs," Van Slyck said by way of greeting. He waved a flimsy yellow sheet of paper in his gloved hands. Baumeister noticed that Van Slyck seemed clean and comfortable and felt an immediate, irrational fit of envy. How in hell does he look so neat? Does the bastard sweat at all? Baumeister thought. He swallowed to ease his sense of pique. Van Slyck was oblivious to Baumeister’s reaction to his appearance. He waved the flimsy in the air.

"He has relayed orders from the White House," Van Slyck continued. His face fell into a pout. He looked like a kid who had just had his bicycle taken away as punishment. His reaction surprised Baumeister. "Effective immediately all but the quarantine operations are to cease. All testing of the civilian population is to stop. The observations of the giantess may continue, but she is not to be touched or examined in any way. Any care that she needs is to be provided as practicable."

Baumeister was doubly surprised. For eighteen hours Van Slyck and his people had been given carte blanche in dealing with both the giantess and the locals. He wondered what could have happened to change things.

"There apparently is a big investigation going on," Van Slyck said. He read the flimsy again, then handed it to Baumeister. "The White House has appointed a Special Liaison who is going to be arriving here at eight a.m. tomorrow to begin an inquiry into all events surrounding the presence of the giant. According to that—" he stabbed a finger at the flimsy— "the Liaison will be accompanied by the Second DC and the commander of the UED, whatever that is."

Baumeister nodded. The Second Military District Commander, McAllister, had originally issued the orders that got the Eighteenth Corps started on this mission. UED was an acronym he was not familiar with, either.

"Okay, get downstairs. Tell Bernard and the rest to lay off the giant. No touchy, no feely—or, at least until I can get this ridiculous order rescinded. What the hell does the White House think this is, an outbreak of prickly heat?" Van Slyck paused, his fingers squeaking against the polished wood of his appropriated desk as he tapped them.

"By the way, General Baumeister, I noticed there are more people than ever outside," he said suddenly. "D’you know why they’re there? In violation of the quarantine and curfew orders?"

Baumeister felt a cold rage erupt inside him. His intense dislike of his current commander suddenly matured. He straightened up inside his suit and bent himself just enough to ensure that Van Slyck could see him in the eyes.

"General Van Slyck, I expect that the majority of them are waiting to see their loved ones after being tested for the umpteenth time for something that isn’t happening to them," he replied, his voice loud and sharp. "The others are either watching or praying for the giantess downstairs."

Van Slyck sat back in his chair. He blinked in surprise at Baumeister insubordinate tone and words. He gathered himself to speak, then stopped. He shook his head, then looked back down at the surface of the desk.

"That’s all, General."

 

East Room, The White House

Washington, DC

 

"My fellow Americans."

The President sat behind his desk in the East Room. He wore a blue pinstripe suit, a white shirt and a conservative red tie. His hair was carefully coiffed and just enough makeup had been applied to hide the shadows under his eyes. He stared at the camera confidently.

"By now, I am sure all of you know about the remarkable events in the City of Columbus, in Polk County, North Carolina. The answer to the question of whether there are new and amazing things to challenge and astound us has been answered. Just one week ago, an ordinary young woman came into contact with an object not of this Earth. This woman, Eleanor Andersen, now living in North Carolina, has been made extraordinary by that contact, growing to a fantastic size. I have been informed that at this time she is under the care of medical specialists who have been drawn from all the branches of our military and government services. I have been in communication with those services in Columbus, North Carolina and they inform me that everything is under control, and that no evidence of danger to the public exists. There is no need for worry on the part of the citizens of North Carolina, or anywhere else—everything is well in hand.

"Further, legitimate concerns have been raised regarding the quarantine and press blackout imposed by the forces in Polk County. This quarantine was imposed to protect both the people inside Polk County and their neighbors. I have been in communication with experts from Columbus and they have informed me there is no evidence of contagion so far. Under these circumstances I am ordering the information blackout be lifted. I have directed that the telephone lines into Columbus be reopened and that the Department of Defense’s Public Information Office open a clearinghouse for information desired by those worried about relatives or loved ones in the affected area. I have also ordered that the press be given access to Polk County and the city of Columbus, North Carolina, beginning at midnight tonight.

"The hopes and prayers of the First Lady and myself go out tonight for the young woman who has been changed in so incredible a fashion. With hope we may be able to help Miss Andersen to return to her normal life, or to help her in the new life that has been thrust upon her. We ask that all the people in our country—and all the people across the world—join us in prayer for this young woman’s safety, health and well-being.

"Thank you and good night."

 

The McNeil-Lehrer News Hour Special Report

WNET-TV

New York

"We have just watched the President’s address to the nation. His description of Eleanor Andersen and what has happened to her is distinctly accurate: extraordinary. Cynthia, it was a brief statement, one of the briefest ever by the current officeholder—only about five minutes or so—and it certainly addressed some of the concerns gripping the nation."

"Bob, the President addressed two issues: Eleanor Andersen, and the news blackout imposed by the military now occupying Polk County. Both statements were positive: this amazing woman, who has been growing steadily bigger every day and probably still is growing, is apparently not dangerous to everyone else, and Polk County, North Carolina is going to be reopened to the rest of the world beginning at midnight."

"Bill: good speech?"

"Yes, Bob. It was vintage President, obviously designed to calm fears, and I think it succeeded. The unprecedented effect the alien object had on the Andersen woman has gripped the attention of the world. A lot of concerns and even fears have gripped us all as well. His reassurances should help calm those fears."

"Okay. I noticed that the President did not address the other concerns which are currently filling the airwaves: reports of a covert, military force initially used to intern the Andersen woman, and who may have been responsible for killing innocent people. The President is going to have to speak out on these reports on the use of such force against someone who, as he has just informed us, was not dangerous, even at the reported size of over thirty feet in height. Gene?"

"Bob, the threat of domestic terrorism has been taken very seriously by this President. Joseph Cain, the newly-created Domestic Affairs Advisor, had publicly campaigned in the past for a new, military antiterrorist unit specifically trained to deal with domestic terrorism. Anonymous sources inside the Pentagon this afternoon are saying that not only has this Domestic Action Response Team, or DART force, been created and trained, and that it was deployed without the President’s knowledge or consent to bring this woman in."

"Cynthia: how serious are the charges now circulating about this mysterious DART antiterrorist force?"

"Very serious, Bob. The President, who has been dogged by allegations of personal misconduct and shady land dealings in his home state, is now accused of being asleep at the switch while a secret military force was operational on U.S. soil. According to sources, the recently appointed commander of some obscure department in the Pentagon was able to order out DART, which may have killed innocent civilians, and the President knew nothing about it. More innocent people dying at the government’s hands is going to strengthen the viewpoint of the anti-government and libertarian groups who have been preaching against increasing Federal government power. If the President says he didn’t know, he’s damned, and if he says he gave the order, he’s damned. It’s a lose-lose situation for this Administration."

"Okay. Any truth to the reports in the New York Times news ticker this afternoon that this DART force committed arson against Miss Andersen’s home and the home of her family doctor, and broke into a church in Yonkers, New York? Bill."

"Bob, I spoke to a very reliable source this afternoon in the Pentagon, and that source tells me that not only are all the stories circulating about the activities of DART are true, but that the mass media has only scratched the surface of DART’s activities. People are running scared, Bob, both in the Pentagon and in the Administration."

"A very serious situation, indeed. Bill, Cynthia, Gene, here’s a question for all of you: what will the government do about Eleanor Andersen? Cynthia, you first."

"Bob, it is obvious that it will require years of study to determine what happened to her. The Utah Times has reported that an abandoned military base in the desert out there is being refitted for her use."

"Bill?"

"I think Cynthia is correct, Bob. Eleanor Andersen is probably going to become a ward of the Federal Government. Society simply cannot afford to have gigantic people roaming around the streets of America. Doubtless the government will see that she is cared for."

"Gene?"

"Bob, I just don’t know what going to happen to Eleanor Andersen. She is the most unique person on Earth, and may be the most dangerous. We still don’t know why what happened to her happened. When we get that answer, then I think her situation will be resolved."

 

St. Luke’s Hospital

Columbus, North Carolina

Saturday

Bernard wandered down the first-floor hallway, heading towards the trauma center. Past the twin polished steel doors the room looked like a bomb had been detonated inside it. Articles of clothing and trash littered a floor marred by dirty footmarks, spilled blood, and broken glass. Racks filled with blood and other bodily samples, now going untested, were stacked precariously high on every level surface. Trash bins were filled to overflowing, as were waste containers decorated with biohazard symbols. The room was deserted and silent. It was a total mess.

"What a mess," a familiar voice said. Bernard turned to see William Turner standing beside her. He was dressed in surgical scrub gear and looked neat and well-rested. Bernard felt herself turning green for more reasons than one.

"You look comfortable," she said. Even through her suit her tone was miffed. Turner shrugged.

"I didn’t ask to lose my suit integrity," he replied. His thumb stabbed downwards. "Blame that oversized bitch in the basement. How’s the watch going?"

"It’s not, really. The President ordered that all activities around her cease. There’s just two people down there keeping watch in case she wakes up." She paused, pointing up at her hair. "Your idea of making me look like her didn’t work."

Turner followed her finger and shrugged again. "It was worth a shot. We need her cooperative so we can break the code of her growth. Maybe you didn’t act like you were trustworthy enough."

Bernard was Turner’s executive assistant in the Neo-Pathogen Office of the CDC. Like Turner, her forte was administration, not science. When she had joined the scientists rushing to Columbus after Ellie's arrival, Turner had promptly corralled her and suggested she adopt the pose of a friendly doctor. His further suggestion she adapt herself to match Ellie’s pre-growth appearance was supposed to have been the pièce d’occasion that lulled the giantess into a false sense of security.

"I’m no actor," she replied. "That Doctor Canfield saw through me in a second."

Turner shrugged again.

"Doesn’t matter," he said, waving his hand. "I just came downstairs from talking to Van Slyck. He feels sure that once the special liaison the President hired sees Andersen, her ticket to China Bravo will be punched for sure. We’ll have years to figure out what happened to her."

Turner led the way back to a first-floor lounge. Like the trauma center it was an untidy mess. A group of figures in suits—Bernard recognized them as the team of observers who were supposed to go on duty at one a.m.—were sprawled in padded chairs clustered around the one television in the room. Turner and Bernard looked at the television screen. Turner recognized the broadcast as coming from MSNBC.

"I see the town got back its cable. What, are they talking about us?" he said in a joking tone. One suit swung in his direction and the face inside nodded.

"They’re saying she’s the biggest news the world has ever seen," he replied. Neither Turner nor Bernard could place his face or voice. That was unsurprising—over a thousand medics and scientists had descended on this small city since Andersen’s arrival. Turner looked at the screen. He recognized the studios belonging to MSNBC.

"Hey, turn that thing up, willya?" a voice amongst the suits said. The nearest turned the volume control up.

"Eleanor Andersen, the giantess of Polk County, continues to be an overnight sensation, and is rapidly becoming a cultural icon," the pretty female host said. "Even the late-night talk shows are talking about nothing else. Here’s the opening of the Conan O’Brien show, which started thirty minutes ago."

The scene changed, revealing the young comedian, waving to his audience.

"Okay, okay, settle down, settle down. Good evening to you all, and welcome to tonight’s show. Boy, there’s been a lot of excitement out there in little ol’ Polk County, North Carolina today. Did you hear that the giant woman down there—Eleanor Andersen, is that her name?—Eleanor Andersen is now supposed to be almost fifty feet tall. That’s as big as Darryl Hannah in the remake of Attack of the Fifty-Foot Woman, and prettier, too—and she’s not make-believe. I’ll tell you, I couldn’t believe those pictures we saw. Could you? Fifty feet tall, a forty foot chest, legs that are a mile long—one thing you can say, somebody out there likes ‘em big! Well, now the Army has completely quarantined the city of Columbus and the county she’s in, in case she’s contagious. That makes sense, I suppose. The last thing we want is an epidemic of over-endowed, giant gorgeous women."

"The Tonight Show with Jay Leno also had the events in North Carolina as their opening theme," the commentator said. "Let’s take a look."

Leno popped from between the multicolored curtains of the Tonight Show studio as the familiar theme music played. He bowed repeatedly and smiled at the audience, waiting for the applause to diminish.

"Thank you, thank you all. Welcome to tonight’s show. Tonight we’re going to have Madonna—maybe she’ll have us—and later on Sean Connery is going to make an appearance. Have you folks been paying any attention at all to the press coverage of that giant woman in North Carolina? I haven’t, either. No, no—everyone’s been watching what going on over there. You know that Twentieth Century Fox is going to be releasing the new, updated Godzilla movie next year? Well, we Americans beat the Japanese this time, and we saved a fortune in special effects, too—we have Babezilla! Did you see the pictures of—Eleanor Andersen, right?—Eleanor Andersen on TV? And she’s supposed to be even bigger now than when those pictures were taken. I’m telling you, folks, this woman’s so big she plays with the Barbie Twins. Now, the Tonight Show staff, in their never-ending pursuit of a good time, diligently discovered that Eleanor Andersen has posed for Playboy. That’s right, folks, and we’ve gotten a pre-release copy. We’re keeping it in a safe place—my dressing room. Ed Hall is there with a camera, right now. Let’s take a look. Ed, do you have the—? That’s great. Now, can you open up the centerfold there—"

With a flourish Leno’s straight man flipped open the magazine and, with the picture side facing him, began to open up the centerfold—and up, and up. Soon the centerfold reached out to Hall’s arms’ length and rolled out several feet across the floor. As he opened the last fold he looked at the "picture". His eyes became huge. Laughter echoed through the studio.

"Turn that crap off," Turner growled. None of the suits moved. He was about to open his mouth again when the rumble of a helicopter passing overhead startled him.

"What the hell’s that?" he asked aloud. "I thought the military had all their helicopters patrolling the borders of the county."

"News chopper," a voice said. It was different from the first voice Turner had heard. "The President lifted the ban on news coverage stating at midnight. News choppers have been buzzing the town for the last two hours."

Turner frowned. The voice sounded tired. They shouldn’t be. It had only been a day and a half since the entire affair in Columbus started. He turned to Bernard. She too looked tired.

"Don’t worry," he said. "Once she’s in China Bravo we’ll have all the time we need. It’s a military reservation, too, so no news choppers will be allowed near."

 

Steve was dozing slightly in the chair he had hijacked from a nearby doctor’s office, sitting in the second floor hallway of the hospital. Around him the fifty-odd quarantined medical personnel were stretched out in every room and on stretchers lining the hall, Canfield and Odegard among them. Periodically he opened one eye and squinted down the hall towards the freight elevator door. The two soldiers guarding the door were erect and alert, as they had been for the last two hours. Steve sighed. He brushed imaginary lint away from the shirt he wore. The clothes he now wore were hospital property—an orderly’s worn green blouse and pants, both of which were one size too small for his frame, and plastic thongs on his feet. Steve closed his eyes again. He oriented his head just enough to ensure that both his ears would pick up any sounds from the soldiers.

Something suddenly tugged at him. Steve immediately sat up straight. He felt a sense of fear and urgency he’d never experienced before. Something was telling him he had to get somewhere, but why—

A crackle of static sounded on the walkie-talkies carried by the soldiers. One soldier—a corporal, to judge from the stripes on his sleeve—grabbed up the radio from his belt. He put it to the side of his hood to listen. Steve cocked his ear to listen as well.

"We need help down here, she’s gone berserk—"

Ellie—

Steve jumped to his feet. The sense of urgency was pulling even more strongly at him now. He started walking towards the elevator door. Both soldiers turned to face him. One—a corporal from the stripes on his sleeve—held out his hand.

"Sorry, sir. This elevator’s off limits for you."

Steve felt something through his feet. It was a subtle, thumping sensation, a vibration that came up through the floor.

"Look, Ellie—the woman downstairs—needs me," he said. He tried to push his way past the soldiers but both men put out their arms and grabbed him.

"No way, sir. You’ll kindly return to your chair there."

Steve felt the sense of urgency redouble. He turned about, looking. He saw the stairs with its EXIT sign a little further down the hall. Pulling himself free of the soldiers he raced for the stairs. Loud flopping behind him told how the two soldiers were pursuing him. He slammed the stair door open and began running down the flight two steps at a time, ignoring the calls of the soldiers behind him. He thought he felt another thump, a more forceful one this time, rattling the metal handrails in his hands as he continued his headlong rush.

He reached the main floor in seconds. Bursting out the door, he found himself in a press of hooded figures, who quickly pinioned him. He struggled for a moment, then subsided. The soldiers kept their hold on him, joined by their comrades from the second floor.

"Please," he panted. "Let me go. Let me get down there."

Another thump, much more forceful this time. Steve could see individual soldiers shifting in reaction to the shock under their feet.

"Please, let me get down there to her. I can calm her. She’s just scared. I can help—"

"Hold up."

The soldiers parted, revealing an officer. Steve saw the symbol of a caduceus on his lapels—he was an Army doctor. Two more thumps made themselves felt.

The Army Doctor—a major—shook his head.

"You’re Carter, right?" he asked. "Sorry, I can’t let you down there. Right now she suffering a bout of active somnambulism. You might get hurt."

Walkie-talkies held by a half-dozen people came to life as the observers in the receiving bay called for help again, their voices increasingly panicked.

"Major," another soldier said, "we better do something. Our people downstairs sound bad."

This time the thump could be heard as well as felt.

"Please, let me go down there. Ellie’s going to hurt herself if she keeps pounding at that room she’s in. She won’t hurt me. She’s my fiancée. Please."

The Army doctor looked carefully at Steve, then nodded his head.

"Oh, hell. Okay, I’ll try anything right now. Let him go, Sergeant."

"Yessir." The arms holding Steve suddenly released

Steve jumped out of the arms of the soldiers and through the doors of the elevator, which were being held obligingly open. The car began its slow descent. The sound of another thump rolled up the shaft.

As the doors opened something suddenly appeared before Steve’s eyes. It was a cardboard box, flying through the air, heading directly for him. He dropped to his hands and knees. The box bounced off one corner of the elevator door and across the car, missing him by inches.

Steve kicked away from his crouch out of the car, under the path of the box. Incoherent shouting was coming from the two suited figures huddling together in one corner, as far away from Ellie as they could get. Both men were waving their arms in the air. Another box suddenly took flight under the impulse of her thrashing arms, smashing against the far wall near the external delivery gate.

Steve saw that Ellie was half-twisted onto her back, her head turned toward him. She was indeed dreaming. Her eyes were moving rapidly under their lids. Her face had fallen into a frown. Her breathing was deep and rapid. She began to murmur in her sleep as her arms thrashed across the space again, sending another box flying.

Steve did not hesitate. As Ellie’s near hand swung close to him, he jumped after it, grabbing it with both his arms, grunting from the pain caused by his exertion. He was promptly pulled from his feet, his knees scraping the concrete floor as he was dragged back towards Ellie’s hip.

"It’s all right, Ellie," he called out. "I’m here."

As if by magic Ellie’s thrashing stopped. She went limp for a moment, and Steve released his bear hug on her hand. He dropped to his elbows and looked up at Ellie. She had pushed out with her legs. A broad, deep hole now marred the wall, her feet and legs shoved into its maw. She now had room to move in her sleep, and she did so. She rolled off of her right hip and onto her butt. A cascade of dirt and wreckage fell across her legs as she moved. Then her hand came back into motion. It lifted up into the air, then waved back and forth over Steve’s head. Steve stood up quickly. As it dropped below his eye level he reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it in his arms. Immediately she closed her hand around him, covering him from his ribs to his knees.

"It’s all right, Ellie," Steve said again, his voice low. He rubbed at her forefinger and thumb with his hands. "I’m here. I’m here for you."

Ellie’s eyes half-opened. She looked down at her hand, at Steve. A small smile touched her lips.

"Steve?" she murmured. Steve smiled and continued stroking her hand. The elevator door opened again. A full squad of soldiers spilled out, the Army major at their head. They all stopped dead at the sight.

"I’m here, pretty lady. I’m here."

Ellie smiled. She lifted Steve from the floor, carrying him upwards until he hung over her head. Steve reached down and touched her chin. Her eyes were still half open. She moved him closer to her face, until he could touch her lips.

"Steve," she whispered. Steve caressed her lips with both his hands, smiling reassuringly.

"I’m here, Ellie. Go back to sleep now. I’m staying with you."

Ellie nodded and smiled again.

"Okay," she replied in a small voice. Her eyes closed. She gently placed Steve on her chest, just above her breasts. She shifted from side to side to get comfortable and swiftly fell into a deeper sleep, her hand atop Steve. Steve kissed her soft, smooth skin and caressed her with his hands. He heard a sigh come from inside her, then felt her take a deep, slow breath.

Steve looked at the Army doctor and the soldiers. Some of them carried their assault rifles at the ready. Others had ropes draped across them. The Major made a motion as though he was going to tip his helmet back on is head until he realized that doing so was impossible with his MOPP hood on.

"It’s all right," Steve said. "She’ll be fine, now. You people can go."

 

Ellie was trapped. She felt the walls of the receiving bay closing in on her as her body grew and grew. Like Alice in Wonderland she felt herself contorting as she tried to accommodate herself to her increasingly tiny surroundings. The pressure kept growing and growing. Finally, she could not stand any more. She braced her bare feet against the cold block wall and pushed with all her strength. The room gave way around her, walls shattering with a sound like breaking glass.

She found herself outside. It was full dark, cold and snowing, but she could see. Everything around her was covered in a blanket of white. She looked down. Beside her feet was a two-lane highway. A thin scum of snow and slush coated its surface, marred by tire tracks. Cars were driving by, moving deliberately. The cars were the size of Matchbox cars she had played with when she was a little girl. None of them seemed to take notice of her huge bare feet right beside the road.

She noticed there was a car off the road, turned at a right angle to the highway. It was a late model sedan. It’s tires were flat, its color familiar. Ellie abruptly recognized it as her own car, the car she was driving a week ago when she was going home that night. But, it was so small! She must now be hundreds and hundreds of feet tall. It was funny—for some reason being so gigantic wasn’t frightening at all. In fact, natural and strong to be so big.

She knelt beside her car. The driver’s side door was open and she peered inside. Snow had coated the driver’s seat and the floorboards. She reached down and touched the hood of the car. It was cold, abandoned, untended. Movement caught Ellie’s attention. Looking away from her car she saw a slim, small figure walking away from her, sweeping the beam of a flashlight from side to side. The light glinted off an object half-hidden by fallen snow. It was the meteorite! It split open, revealing a perfectly round crystal ball. As Ellie watched the figure picked up the ball. It gave off a brief flash of light. Then it crumbled to dust in the figure’s hand.

The tiny figure turned towards Ellie. The hand that held the alien orb was still outstretched, dust running between the fingers. As Ellie watched, the figure began to grow. In a few seconds Ellie saw the figure’s coat and shirt and pants shred and fall away, revealing a woman’s burgeoning body. In a moment the woman was half her size and still growing. Her modest bosom blossomed tremendously, casting an expanding shadow against the snow below her. Her legs kept getting longer and longer. Her hips widened. Her hair cascaded like a waterfall, racing to the ground. Still the woman rose taller and taller, until she was as tall as Ellie herself.

Ellie looked at the other giantess and saw she was looking at herself. The other Ellie’s hand was still outstretched, almost as if in a gesture of greeting or offering. As Ellie watched the other Ellie lowered her hand, giggled, then turned and pointed upwards.

Ellie looked up. Though snow was still falling the sky was clear. She could see the vault of stars overhead. She was astounded at the clarity of her vision, to see so many beautiful stars. Then some of the stars began to fall, forming brilliant streaks of light in the night sky. Hundreds—thousands—of falling stars, across the sky from horizon to horizon. It was a beautiful sight, but were they more of the same meteorite she had encountered? Did each one contain a perfectly smooth, spherical crystal, destined to make someone else grow? Ellie needed to know. She reached out to touch the other Ellie. But the moment her fingers touched the other Ellie’s bare shoulder she giggled again and vanished in a puff of smoke.

Something called her attention upwards again. She saw a tiny, distant blot of blackness, blocking off the starlight. As she watched the blot came closer, covering half the sky. She felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to flee, to run away, to hide. She tried to make her feet move but they seemed frozen to the ground. The Dark got closer and closer. A tendril of pure Blackness reached out of the blot in the sky, snaking towards her. She threw up her hand to defend herself. The tendril quickly wrapped around her wrist and arm, exerting a powerful, terrifying pressure. It was icy cold, so cold it hurt. It pulled at her, began to curl down her arm toward her shoulder, her body. She struggled fiercely against it.

"It’s all right, Ellie. I’m here."

Ellie turned at the sound of Steve’s voice. He was standing beside her. She blinked in surprise—he looked as tall as she! He reached out a big, strong hand and seized the tendril. It immediately released her, writhing obscenely in his grip. He was squeezing the Darkness hard, his forearm muscles bulging, his teeth clenched in his efforts. She joined him, placing her hand atop his, clamping down with all her strength. She heard the Blackness hiss. It was a sound of pain and fury. The it disappeared—and so did Steve.

"Steve?" Ellie looked around, then looked down. Steve was there, at her feet, his lopsided grin on his face. He looked so small, a tiny speck in the snow beside her foot. Ellie didn’t know why, but her being so gigantic, towering over him, felt as right as his being gigantic beside her did a moment before.

"It’s all right Ellie," he called up to her. He waved. "I’m here. I’m here for you."

Ellie reached down and seized Steve in her hands. She brought him to her face and felt his tiny, tiny hand reach out and touch her lips, gently. Ellie felt her love for Steve flood her, warming her from her head to her toes.

"Steve," she said, trying to express in that one word all of her feelings for him. She saw his face form her favorite expression.

"I’m here, Ellie," he replied. "Go back to sleep now. I’m staying with you."

"Okay," she replied. She cradled her wonderful Steve to her bosom, her hand tented over him. Sighing contentedly, she closed her eyes, luxuriating in the warmth that spread from his contact with her skin. As she drifted away she could hear Steve say something, about how she was all right now, and other people going. He was being silly. Of course she was all right, now.

 

 

Captain Mike Metcalf turned towards the early morning sun. The sun was just up over the horizon—seven-thirty or so. After two days of rainy weather it felt good. Not having his face mask on was even better. He rubbed his stubble and let the sun warm his skin, sighing in contentment. It surprised him that such a simple thing as not being required to stay in MOPP-4 could be so gratifying.

The guttural rumble of a diesel engine caught his attention. Metcalf turned on his heel. A big, silver motor home was rolling along the empty road, coming from Polk County. It smoothly pulled to a stop just short of the line formed by his company Humvee. The explosive hiss of its air brakes being locked was loud in the morning quiet.

Metcalf looked down the highway towards Henderson County. As before state trooper cars, their rotating beacons flashing, choked the road. Even more news vehicles had been crammed onto the shoulders of the highway, their satellite dishes turned every which way. It all looked the same, but it was different—much different than yesterday. First news helicopters came, buzzing overhead since midnight. Then an Army Public Information team arrived at about five-thirty, drawing a half-dozen reporters and camera people from the mass at the border and taking them inside the county—whatever contagion they had been ordered in to isolate must have been cleared. And now he could hear the chop-chop-chop of the rotors of a big helicopter cutting through the air. Suddenly a Sikorsky CH-65—a BUFF, or as it was affectionately called in Viet Nam, a Big Ugly Fat Fucker—popped up over the tree line to the south, heading directly for his post.

The chopper flattened and fanned as it approached, whipping moisture into the air. As Metcalf watched the chopper landed daintily on the highway. The sound of air brakes being released turned his attention back to the motor home. It was turning its length in the road, pointing back towards Polk County. Metcalf waved his first sergeant forward and they began to walk towards the chopper.

The BUFF’s forward access hatch popped open, and two crewmen leaped out. They turned to assist others leaving the helicopter—a big man with thinning gray hair and a handlebar moustache, a young attractive woman, and an elderly one. All wore civilian clothes. The two women clutched at their dresses in an effort to keep them from being disarranged by the rotor wash of the chopper. Despite the assistance of the crewman the elderly lady almost stumbled and fell on the framework of the embarkation ladder. As soon as all three civilians were on the ground, the crewman rushed back inside, then popped out again, bearing what looked like briefcases and a bright aluminum box. They dropped the items on the road and returned inside the chopper.

As Metcalf approached the elderly woman took the lead, accepting his hand. The big man grabbed up the briefcases while the younger woman seized the silver box. Metcalf gestured. The three civilians followed him, his first sergeant trailing behind. As soon as she were out from under the BUFF’s rotor blades its engines wound up to full power and it promptly lifted away.

In the noise and wind of the helicopter Metcalf was unable to exchange one word with the people he had just met. They all hurried to the motor home. Its side door opened as they approached. They all clambered aboard the coach, the big man assisting the older woman. The motor coach began moving the instant the door was closed. It was clearly being driven for all it was worth. As it disappeared Harrett, the first sergeant, turned to Metcalf.

"What the hell was that all about, Cap?"

"Dunno," Metcalf replied. He strode to his Humvee and grabbed up the radio. He paused momentarily, checking the frequency it was dialed to. The numbers were correct. He pressed the push to talk button.

"Checkpoint Kilo to Romeo Base. Checkpoint Kilo to Romeo Base. Inform Romeo One that a helicopter arrived here five minutes ago and embarked three passengers. They are on their way to you now. Over."

After a moment’s silence Metcalf received and acknowledgement. He nodded satisfactorily and turned back to his first sergeant.

"I think we can let the guys get out of their suits altogether now, Sarge," he said. "Did the fresh uniforms arrive?"

"Yessir. We’d better bag the old stuff fast, before the Environmental Protection Agency slaps us with a fine."

Metcalf grinned. He had followed the orders issued to him an hour ago—wait for new arrivals coming by chopper, see they got to their prearranged transportation as quickly as possible, and report when they arrived. Whatever these people were would be found out later. He was glad their mission had apparently been accomplished without anybody getting shot. Right now a damp washcloth was first on his list of priorities, followed by a fresh uniform.

 

St’ Luke’s Hospital

Columbus, North Carolina

The noise of the elevator door opening caught Ellie’s attention. She blinked to clear her vision, then inhaled deeply. She felt a weight on her chest. Looking down she saw Steve, dressed in some sort of a green uniform, lying under her hand, asleep. His head was turned to one side, mouth open, hair mussed. She smiled and watched him rise and fall on her chest as she breathed.

A loud clatter caught her attention. Two suited people were dragging the hospital bed and life support equipment into a corner of the room. Two more were lugging a long table from inside the freight elevator, with a third carrying folding chairs.

"Excuse me," she said softly. All the suited figures started violently. One man lost his grip on the table. It impacted the floor with a hollow booming noise. All of them looked up at her.

"Could you please tell me what time it is?" Ellie asked. One man actually made the motion of looking at his wristwatch before he realized he couldn’t see it though his suit. He looked up at her.

"Uh, I don’t know the time," he replied, his voice quavering. "It’s morning."

"Morning? Thank you," she said. The man’s head bobbed inside his suit. After a few moments the others began to move again, resuming whatever tasks they were involved in. Ellie felt surprise tug at her. What happened? How could so much time pass without her being aware of it? She turned over in her mind everything she could remember about the last few hours. She remembered the dream, and gasped.

Ellie realized she had fallen asleep.

"Asleep. I fell asleep," she said aloud. She felt Steve stir. He turned his head slowly, looking up at her. She smiled.

"Good morning, Steve," she whispered to him. Steve thrust out his arms and stretched, then gave her a lopsided grin.

"Good morning, Ellie. Is it morning?"

"Yes, lover. It’s a wonderful morning. Steve, I fell asleep last night."

Steve nodded.

"I fell asleep!"

"Yes, you did. How do you feel?"

Ellie lifted her left arm. The sensation of heaviness that had bothered her before was gone. She lifted it until her hand touched the ceiling, then moved it back and forth.

"I-I feel fine. I feel wonderful!" she said. She looked around the receiving bay. "God, I’m so big now. I make this place look tiny." She felt something around her toes. Pressing her head against the ceiling, she looked over her bosom at her feet.

"My God, Steve. I punched a hole in the wall!"

"Afraid so, Ellie. You were having a bad dream last night."

"A bad dream?" Ellie looked up at the ceiling, her eyes unfocused. "Yes, I remember. It was so vivid. So strange." She looked down at Steve. Her smile returned. She lifted her hand from his back and he quickly sat up on her chest. Curling her fingers around him she lifted him gently into the air, bringing him closer to her face.

"You look a little cross-eyed there," he joked. Ellie snorted and brought him to her lips to kiss him, gently and long. She felt his arms reach out along the line of her jaw, his hands grasping the base of her ears. The familiar, extraordinary reaction she felt to his kiss warmed and excited her. Steve was paying attention to both her lips, one at a time, kissing and licking. Ellie hummed in pleasure and parted her lips, slipping out her tongue to administer a licking of her own.

"Wow," he said as they parted. Ellie drew back her hand until she could see him clearly. "What a wake-up call. Are you sure you feel all right, Ellie?"

"I think so," she replied. She squirmed on the floor in an effort to get more comfortable. "The tightness I was feeling yesterday is gone. I feel strong again. I-I think I’m hungry, too."

Steve blew out his cheeks in relief. His reaction surprised Ellie. He began stroking her fingers with his hands.

"Thank God. Ellie, I was really worried for a while. Doc Canfield was, too. D’you know you stopped growing?"

Ellie looked at Steve in shock. She closed her eyes and concentrated on how her body felt. She twisted her head from side to side, slowly at first, then faster. Her motion rattled Steve within her hand. Incredulous joy filled her, suffusing her face.

"I have! I’ve stopped growing! Oh, Steve, the dizzy spells, the vertigo—it’s all gone!" She looked down at herself. "I didn’t grow out of my clothes again! Oh, God, Steve, this is wonderful! It’s stopped! It’s stopped, it’s stopped, it’s stopped!"

Ellie wrapped both her hands around Steve and pressed him against her cheek. Tears of joy spurted from her eyes.

"Easy there, pretty lady," he laughed, wriggling in her hands. "I might’ve cracked a rib last night."

Ellie became immediately concerned. She opened her hands, letting him rise to a crouch on her palms. He looked up at her, grinning.

"What happened last night, Steve? Did-did one of these people try to hurt you? Did I? Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, pretty lady. Nobody tried to hurt me. You were having some kind of nightmare last night and you were throwing your arms around. Scared the socks off the numb-nutses watching you. I guess I’m not all healed yet and when I grabbed your arm to calm you I felt something give in my chest. It’s nothing—I’ll just need you to hold onto me a little longer, I think. Do you know how beautiful you are when you smile, pretty lady? It’s my favorite expression."

Ellie smiled again. It was a genuine, happy smile. Steve’s face mirrored his euphoria at seeing her expression and she smiled still more.

"God, you are beautiful, Ellie," he whispered. "You are so beautiful—"

"Just what the hell is going on here?" an unfamiliar voice demanded.

Both Ellie and Steve turned. The freight elevator door had opened again. The interior of the car was packed. The voice belonged to a man in an Army MOPP suit. Two stars were stitched onto his lapels. He craned his head up to look at Ellie, then back down.

"What the hell is going on here?" he repeated. The half-dozen figures already in the receiving bay were all frozen in the places Ellie last saw them, their faces turned towards her and Steve. The General strode into the room.

"Get moving people. Now. You’ve got thirty seconds to set up that table and chairs. Clear this space now. Jump to it!"

Both Ellie and Steve looked on curiously as the figures literally jumped at the General’s word. The legs of the table were quickly unfolded. As the folding chairs were set out, the people packing the elevator began to occupy them, each jockeying for a place. The first was a smug-looking Doctor Turner, followed by Doctor Bernard. Two others in MOPP suits—a big, well-built man with three stars on his shoulders, and a smaller, rotund one with one star—also stepped out into the bay. Four more people followed. One, a medium sized man with a big, sharp nose, looked up at Ellie and stopped in mid-stride, his mouth open. He began to move again when another figure elbowed him in the back.

As soon as the last man exited the elevator its door closed. The General uttered a withering obscenity at the cramped accommodations and the slowness of the people setting up the table. They redoubled their efforts, literally hefting the hospital bed atop some boxes in their efforts to make room. In their efforts to keep a respectful distance from Ellie the table was almost being butted against the inner wall of the bay.

"If you like, I can move back away from the wall," she offered. Again, everyone fell utterly still. Ellie fixed her gaze on the three-star General. After a minute he nodded, slowly.

"Ah—uh, yes, uh, please. If you could."

Ellie looked at Steve, still balanced on her open hands. She brought him swiftly to her face and gave him a quick kiss, then spilled him into her right hand and lowered him to the floor. Once Steve was clear she placed her hands flat against the floor and twisted her torso, lifting her buttocks from the floor, rolling partly onto her left side. She pushed some boxes away to make more room, then started to draw her feet from the hole she had made in the wall.

"Ellie, hold up a minute," she heard Steve say. She looked over her shoulder. Steve moved around her right hand underneath her.

"What is it?"

"I think I found what’s making you uncomfortable on your back," he replied. She felt him touch the middle of her back, pressing his fingers against her skin. There was no pain or pressure but she heard him make a satisfactory noise in his throat.

"Okay, Ellie, I got it. I think you’ll be more comfortable now."

Ellie shifted herself away from the inner wall of the bay until she was some fifteen feet further away. She rotated her hips and bend her legs double to give herself room to fit the space—she didn’t want to punch another hole in the wall. Her position was not comfortable, with her knees bent left almost to her elbow and her head facing right, but now the other people had more room to assemble.

She had just made herself comfortable when the elevator door opened once more. Ellie’s smile returned as the current occupants struggled out. Joann Canfield stepped out first and immediately looked up at Ellie, her brow wrinkling momentarily as she noted Ellie’s physical contortions. Her expression was so comical that Ellie smiled in return. Canfield’s husband followed, his expression both surprised and incredulous. Sheriff Thompson was next, in uniform, his demeanor official. The final three people out of the elevator were unrecognizable, contained as they were in the all-too-familiar anticontamination garb, but their bearing was unusual. One, a tall, solid man, carried two large briefcases by their handles in one ham hand while holding up the enclosed air tank of the smallest of the three, an elderly woman who walked with difficulty, with his other hand. The third, another woman, taller and younger, moved with better coordination to the table, bearing an aluminum case that she promptly opened. Ellie saw it contained a portable computer of some sort.

Turner left his chair as soon as the last three people arrived in the room. He walked directly to the older woman and offered his hand.

"Hello," he said. "I’m Doctor Turner. I’m glad to see you here so soon. I hope we can…"

Turner’s stream of words faded as the woman ignored him completely, her entire concentration apparently on staying upright until she got to a seat. Her aide slipped both briefcases to the floor to free his hand so he could draw a chair from the table for her, and helped her gain her seat on it. He then lifted one briefcase and set it in front of the older woman and retreated against the wall with his own case.

The older woman turned in her seat and tilted up until she had a clear look at Ellie. Ellie returned the interest. She looked like everybody’s favorite grandmother or great aunt—placid, gray-haired, with a flashflood of laugh lines around her mouth and eyes. Then Ellie focused on her eyes. Those hard, ice-blue eyes looked like they belonged to a casino pit boss rather than a granny. The older woman turned back to the table. The younger woman, whose eyes kept straying up towards Ellie’s recumbent form, saw the older woman motion toward her and nodded in reply.

"This hearing is now in session," the older woman announced.

 

The low-voiced conversation that had just started amongst the suited persons died immediately. Ellie could see consternation on some of their faces. Two people started visibly when they observed the younger woman tapping fiercely at the keys on the personal computer—she was clearly a court stenographer of some sort.

"This hearing is opened to determine the recent activities surrounding Miss Eleanor Andersen and other persons," the older woman continued. Her voice was another surprise—strong and clear, even through the voicebox of her suit. Ellie detected a strong southern accent in her timbre.

"I’m Judge Virginia Greer, of the Federal District Court in the great state of Arkansas. I have been appointed by the President and have been gifted with Executive powers by same. The report that I compile as the result of the interviews I have completed yesterday and complete today will be submitted both to the White House and to whatever Congressional and other committees as are deemed appropriate. Now, with two exceptions I do not know which names go with which faces. You, up there," she turned again in her seat to Ellie, "I think it’s safe to say you are Eleanor Andersen. You, sir," to Steve, who had leaned against Ellie’s side, "are Mr. Steven Carter. I’m going to guess that the gentleman in the sheriff’s uniform is Sheriff Thompson. The rest of you please identify yourselves for the record."

Canfield and Odegard spoke first. General McAllister rose from his chair and spoke his name and rank. The rotund little brigadier announced his name as Chafee. Van Slyck and the three other scientists then spoke, followed by Turner and Bernard.

"Fine," Greer said. "Effective right now you are all under oath. Understand that the penalties for perjury are both unpleasant and substantive. I am assuming you all want to talk to me and I am giving you this one—and only one—private opportunity to do so. Now, I cannot compel any of you to testify under oath without the benefit of counsel. If anyone insists on having counsel present I will gavel this hearing right now and reconvene it in Raleigh-Durham before a federal grand jury."

Greer swiveled in her chair, looking from one face to another. No one spoke.

"Good. Anybody who doesn’t want to speak to me on any question I put forward I will introduce to old Ben there."

Greer turned and pointed to the big man with the briefcase.

"Ben is a United States Marshal," Greer continued. "Inside his briefcase is a whole bunch of subpoenas"—she pronounced the word "suh-peenies"—"that are signed in blank. All he has to do is write names on them and hand it to you. That will happen if somebody here gets cold feet about answering my questions. You will talk to me here and now, or testify before a grand jury. It’s your choice. You okay with that, Ben?"

The big Marshal nodded briefly inside his hood.

"See that?" Greer asked no one in particular. "He never shuts up. Now, this government wants to know what in the good Christ—beg your pardon, Jennifer," she added suddenly, turning to the stenographer, who nodded, and continued tapping keys. "—what in the good Christ is going on around here. I have spoken to people in New York, Washington, Texas, Florida, Hawaii, Virginia, Maryland, and here in North Carolina. I already have a pretty good idea of what has happened over the last week. The President has put me in the position of making the final decision as to what is to be done. I can tell you that I am going to have the final say on the disposition of this case and any person involved in it."

The silence that followed Greer’s statement hung in the air like the smell of a dead animal. Ellie felt a coil of fear beginning to tighten around her middle as she looked at the tight, unsmiling mouth of the Special Liaison. It was clear that this judge was going to have the final say on Ellie’s freedom and well-being. Greer looked around again, swiveling back and forth. She paused longest as she looked up at Ellie’s face, then turned back.

"I’ll begin with you, General Van Slyck," she began. "You are the commander of the U.S. Army’s Communicable Disease Research Center?"

"Affirmative."

"What is your specialty?"

"I have a Ph.D. in Microbiology and a Master’s Degree in Virology."

Greer nodded visibly. "So it’s safe to say that you have the knowledge and the wherewithal to determine if someone is carrying a dangerous disease organism?"

"Affirmative."

"’Affirmative’? General, you sound like a robot. Have you found any?"

Van Slyck hesitated.

"Have I found any what?"

"Any disease organism in Miss Andersen?"

"No, not as yet."

"Not as yet. I see." Greer looked down at the table for a moment, then looked back up at Van Slyck.

"Why haven’t you?"

Van Slyck appeared uneasy. "Well, ma’am—ah, Judge—the giant wouldn’t cooperate with us to give us the samples we needed to check for—whatever was making her grow."

"You people already took samples from me in Texas, days ago," Ellie interrupted. She could not keep the harshness out of her voice. Van Slyck looked up at her. His expression reminded her of the lab technicians she had seen at Brooks when she was incarcerated there—it almost seemed he didn’t expect her to be able to talk. Greer made a nodding motion inside her suit.

"That’s an interesting point," Greer said. "General, were you aware that Miss Andersen had been detained at the Armstrong Laboratories in Texas six days ago?"

"Affir—yes, I was."

"And did you contact them to see if they had discovered something?"

"Negative. I did not think it necessary. I’m sure that when they find something they’ll contact my office."

"I see. Well, General, I did contact the people at Brooks. The information they sent to me I faxed to the Chief of Staff at John’s Hopkins University Hospital, with a request that he and his people tell me what it said. I got a preliminary report from them an hour ago. It’s almost a hundred twenty pages long, and it has attached two it at least double that number of pages of data. According to them tests were conducted on every part of her I could’ve ever imagined. They checked her urine, her feces, her blood, lymph, saliva, hair, nails, mouth and vaginal scrapings, fingernails—everything. They even removed a skin sample and, from what I understand, literally broke it into its molecular components to look for anything out of the ordinary. They found nothing. Do you think that is significant?"

"Ah, yes. Yes, I do." Van Slyck faltered, then rallied. "There has to be something that caused her to grow."

"Fine, fine. Is she contagious?"

"What?"

"I trust I am speaking the Queen’s english," Greer said tiredly. "I said, is she contagious?"

"Well, since we do not know the transmission vector used by whatever it was caused her to grow—"

"In plain english, General. Is she contagious: yes, or no?"

"I must say yes."

"Why? Because you don’t know what caused her to grow, therefore it must be spreadable to other organisms?"

"Well, not necessarily—"

"Do you know what has caused Miss Andersen to grow to her present size?"

"No, we do not."

"Thank you. General Chafee, you’re next. You are the Commander of this Unusual Events Department. Am I correct in saying that you are therefore responsible for the military operations originated as a result of being informed of Miss Andersen’s gigantism?"

"Yes, I am. That is part of the standing orders in the original charter of the UED," Chafee replied.

"Did you order Colonel Lang to detain Miss Andersen and bring her to the Armstrong Laboratories at Brooks Air Force Base for examination?"

"No. Judge, as a military officer I fall under the investigative branch of the Judge Advocate General’s offices, not any civilian authority—"

"You do now," McAllister growled. Chafee subsided.

"General Chafee, did you invoke this—what was it called—" Greer fumbled with her briefcase. After a few seconds the Marshal detached himself from the wall and worked the locks of her case for her.

"Thank you, Ben. You do have your uses," Greer said, a hint of affection in her voice. She pulled out a set of papers that were clipped together and looked at them.

"Ah-hah. This ‘Paradigm Cordon’?"

"Yes, I did."

"General Chafee, you did not order Colonel Lang to detain Miss Andersen?"

"No."

"Did Colonel Lang just decide to detain her on his own?"

"No. As the scientific expert Doctor Turner issued those orders."

"Uh-huh. Doctor Turner, did you instruct Lang to detain Miss Andersen?"

"Yes."

"Did you instruct him to burn down Miss Andersen’s home?"

Turner looked away from Greer for a moment, then looked back.

"No, I did not. Chafee did."

Chafee jumped to his feet.

"I did so based upon your recommendation, Turner," he said, his voice rising. "Don’t try putting this off on me—"

"You told me that the protocols of the Paradigm Cordon demanded prompt action, Chafee," Turner shot back. "Whatever caused her to grow is unspeakably dangerous and needs to be isolated and cauterized before elimination—"

"Boys, boys," Greer said, her clear voice commanding silence. "Just like men. Argue about how many gallons of water are in the ocean while people are drowning in it. Sheriff Thompson, you’re next. How long have you been sheriff in this county?"

"Twelve years."

"When did you first discover Miss Andersen?"

"Three days ago."

"Was she a giant at that time?"

"Yes."

"Why didn’t you report her to state or federal authorities?"

"I saw no need to."

"You saw no need to? It is common to have giant women walking around this county?"

"No, but its not against the law to be a giant, either."

Greer almost snorted at Thompson’s riposte.

"You ever hear of protecting the public good?"

"Yes."

"As an experienced law enforcement officer, don’t you think that reporting something as potentially dangerous as a gigantic being in the neighborhood contributes to the public good?"

"Only if she was a danger. She is not."

"Oh, you know that from three days’ experience, do you?"

"Yes."

Ellie saw Greer purse her lips.

"I’ll ask the same question of you two there," she said, turning to Canfield and Odegard. "Doctor Canfield, Professor Odegard, you also knew about the existence of this giant woman for several days, correct?"

"Yes, I did." "Yes."

"And you didn’t report it because she was no danger. Is that right? And just how did you deduce she was no danger?"

"Ellie rescued a boatload of kids from drowning in a lake a few days ago," Canfield said. Her voice became increasingly strident and she fixed her best authoritative look on Greer. "She is a decent, caring, good person, no matter how big she happens to be. She is special, not dangerous."

"I see we’re a little passionate about this," Greer replied. She shook her head. "I’m not in the least bit interested in passion. I wants facts only, thank you very much. Do any of you know what caused her to grow? Any ideas? Either of you? Is she contagious? No? Fine."

"You know, I’m here, too," Ellie said suddenly. Greer rotated in her seat and looked up. Ellie’s face was tight and grim.

"Oh, I know you’re there, Miss Andersen," Greer replied. "Trust me, you’re impossible to ignore. I’m not trying to insult you by ignoring you. I will get to you presently. Dr. Turner, General Chafee just testified that you gave the order for Miss Andersen’s detainment. I understand that this is in accordance with the protocols of this Cordon thing. Can you tell me the whereabouts of a Doctor James Preston or his wife? Colonel Lang did not give any specifics to General Chafee in his reports, nor did he write down their disposition in the operations log, which I understand is a violation of Army regulations."

Turner opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

"Well?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"Colonel Lang never told me what happened to Preston."

"Did he tell you he detained Preston?"

"Yes, he did."

"Did Colonel Lang detain Dr. Preston on your advice?"

"Yes."

"Did you follow up with Lang about Dr. Preston?"

"Not-not immediately, no."

"You want to try that again, Turner? You instructed Lang to detain Preston and his wife, did you not? Lang wrote those instructions into the DART forces’ operations log. I saw a facsimile of those orders at around midnight last night. Did you check on them to see if they had been infected with Miss Andersen’s growing disease, for example?"

"Not immediately, as I said. There was Andersen to be looked at first—"

"And later?"

Turner did not answer. His eyes dropped to the table. Greer waited patiently for a moment, then she nodded.

"General Chafee, were you aware that Colonel Lang had detained Doctor Preston, his wife, and—" Greer looked at the sheaf of papers in her hand again, patiently thumbing over several pages—"a Captain Meredith Douglas of the U.S. Air Force?"

"Yes."

"Did you follow up to determine what had happened to these people? Whether they were affected with this growing syndrome or not?"

"Yes."

"And what did Lang tell you?"

"He-he terminated Preston and his wife. Douglas was to be kept for further observation."

Ellie’s mouth opened in horror. As she followed the conversation around the table her stomach kept getting tighter and tighter. The tension in the room was almost visible, floating in the air around her. For the first time sine she woke up she began to feel the first vestiges of real claustrophobia tugging at her. As Chafee thin, thready voice matter-of-factly stated what had happened to her old family doctor, her last reserve of silence broke.

"Oh, no," she said. "How could you? He was a harmless old man, and a good doctor. You killed them? You didn’t have to do that! Oh, God, I-I never should have gone to him. Oh, it’s all my fault—" Ellie choked. Tears began to fall from her eyes, running down her cheeks to drip on the floor.

"No, Ellie, it’s not you fault," Steve suddenly said, rubbing her arm. "It’s not your fault at all." He turned to Greer, his face white with anger. "It’s you people who are responsible. All of you should be put in a fucking museum."

"That’s enough out of you, Mr. Carter," Greer said. "While I have your attention: Last Sunday, did you fly into Brooks Air Force Base in Texas, claiming some sort of electronics failure?"

"Yes."

"And you removed Miss Andersen from detention and flew her away to your domicile here?"

"I rescued Ellie from her kidnappers, yes."

"Oh, please, Mr. Carter. I have no stomach for dramatics. While removing Miss Andersen from detention did you impersonate an Air Force officer?"

"Yes."

"Gee, Mr. Carter, impersonating a military official is against the law—haven’t you heard? And did you break into the FAA computers and remove the identity of your airplanes on two different occasions?"

"No."

"Did someone help you?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I’m not saying."

Greer laughed mirthlessly.

"You’re not saying what I want to hear."

"Sorry, Judge. Hanging me will have to do."

"I see," she replied.

Chafee jumped to his feet again. Even through the eyepieces of his mask the paleness of his skin should be seen.

"I gave those orders to Lang based on what you told me, Turner," he shouted, leaning across the table. "Didn’t you tell me that it may become necessary to ‘sterilize’ the town she was in, or the hospital she was first admitted to? I wouldn’t have given Lang the orders I did if you hadn’t misled me about the dangers—"

"Chafee, it was your job to keep a leash on Lang," Turner replied. He too jumped to his feet and pointed his finger at Chafee, shaking it at his masked face. "That guy was a loose cannon from the start. I asked for help from you and you gave him to me. How was I supposed to know what he was going to do—you were his superior."

Turner looked at Greer. His face had gone pale. Damp could be seen under the armpits of his scrub shirt.

"I am the head of the Neo-Pathogen Labs at the CDC. What’s happened to her—" he stabbed his finger up at Ellie—"is something incredibly dangerous that must be thoroughly researched. She must be quarantined at a facility where she can be examined. You can’t blame me because some A-J squared-away Army asshole goes ballistic. I gave him the correct advice for what I observed at the time. As far as I’m concerned the advice is still good."

Ellie felt a pair of arms grab her hand. She looked down. Steve had wandered along her arm to her hand and slipped himself inside the circle of her fingers. He was holding down her hand by draping both arms over it. He looked up at her. She focused all her concentration on his worried, earnest face. She saw him gave the tiniest shake to his head. He mouthed the word no.

Ellie suddenly realized she was holding her breath. She could feel muscles straining inside her arms and hands, and across her belly. Without being aware of it she had been preparing to lash out at Turner and the others. Somehow Steve detected it and was using his body weight to keep her hand down on the floor. Ellie flushed in surprise at her own reaction. Closing her eyes she tried to draw in a deep breath of air, willing herself to stay calm. Steve’s hands stroked her fingers, one at a time, then she felt one of his hands stretch up her wrist. It was a pleasant sensation that reminded her of the happiness he had given her since he met her. She closed her fingers gently around Steve’s form and stroked his back with her thumb. She blinked and offered Steve a rueful grin. He palpably relaxed in her hand as she calmed.

"I think I can tell where this is headed," Greer said suddenly. She had bent her head forward until her forehead touched her faceplate, looking down at the contents of her briefcase without seeing anything. She straightened and swiveled in her chair again, looking from person to person. She sighed.

"The one question I’d really like answered is: who was in charge of this entire operation? Was anybody actually in charge?" Greer looked around the table for a moment. No one spoke. "None of you can answer that question, can you? Well, we have a unique situation here." She turned and looked up at Ellie. "A situation totally unique in the entire history of this world. We also have the detention of civilians by a secret military force operating on U.S. soil in violation of the law. We have acts of arson, theft, shooting, and some deaths, all at the hands of the government. Now, I will tell you that when Joe and Jane America hear what has happened during the last week, they’re going to get really angry. Not necessarily because it was illegal—and it was—but because, more importantly, by God it’s not right. The people of this nation frown on the idea of secret military forces creeping around their towns and cities, seizing and shooting people. What I’ve heard here this morning has really helped me make up my mind as to the decision I’m going to have to make. Okay, Miss Andersen. What do you intend to do?"

Ellie was startled. Greer swung herself so that she could see Ellie clearly.

"To do?" Ellie looked blank.

"Yes. To do. What do you intend to do, now that you’re—how big are you, anyway? What are you going to do now?"

Ellie paused, considering. She looked down at Steve, who grinned up at her. She smiled back.

"I don’t have all day, Miss Andersen."

Ellie looked at Greer. She raised her knees until they thumped the ceiling. With her hips nearly level she could twist her back and shoulders to her right so that she was looking directly at the diminutive judge.

"I’m going to try to live as normal a life as I can," she said, her voice clear. In the confined space of the bay her volume made everyone’s ears ring, including her own. She smiled in apology and lowered her voice. "I’ve met a very special man who has promised himself to me, and I have promised myself to him. I’ve grown so big now I can never go back to the life I had. I hope I can start a new life with Steve and the new friends I have made here. Maybe someday someone will discover a cure for me and I’ll be able to shrink back to my normal size so I can live a truly normal life. I would like to give Steve something that right now I never will be able to. Until then I’m going to have to make the best of what I’ve got, and what I am."

Greer’s eyes fell down Ellie’s form to Steve. Ellie followed her gaze. She smiled again and closed her hand around Steve’s torso, holding him gently.

"My, my, Mr. Carter," Greer said suddenly, "you like big women that much?"

    "Just this one," he replied, returning Ellie’s gaze.

    "You really don’t like what happened to Miss Andersen, do you?"

    "No, I don’t."

    "I don’t blame you. D’you want to know why I think these people did what they did?" she said. "It’s because the American people give those jobs to them. The average citizen doesn’t really care what his or her government does, so long as it happens to the other guy. The American people tell us in government, ‘fix this’ and ‘do that’, then forget they did so. These were very extraordinary circumstances, Mr. Carter. You’re a brave man, Mr. Carter.   And very smart. I’m pretty smart, too, Mr. Carter."

    Steve paused in his stroking of Ellie’s hand.

    "Everyone here’s smart," he replied, his voice soft. "Everyone here’s just doing their job. And Brian Hadad is dead. Some guy I never met in my life in Minneapolis is dead. I was shot. Ellie’s sister was shot. Her little niece and nephew—two little kids! —were shot at while Ellie held them. Ellie was shot a total of nine times. Nine times! You know what I found in Ellie’s back this morning? This."

    Steve fished into his trouser pocket and brought out a shiny, misshapen object. He tossed it at Greer. She fumbled to catch it and it clattered on the floor. The marshal retrieved it and put it in her hand.

    "That is a fifty caliber, teflon-tipped bullet," Steve continued. "Only police or the military can get that kind of ammunition. Who do Ellie and I see about all of that?"

    Greer looked at Steve’s pale, angry face. Their eyes locked for a moment. Then she dropped her eyes to the table. As she began to tap her fingers together the rubber gloves they were encased in squeaked. She looked at her hands, then back to Steve.

    "I don’t know who you should see," she replied, her tone uncertain. "I wish I did.  The man who caused you your grief is  dead. Maybe the dead should bury the dead, Mr. Carter. Ben, get over here."

The marshal obediently came over to her.

"Help me get this damned suit off. I feel like I’m trying to work in a body bag."

For a moment the others around the table froze. The sound of her suit being unzipped was loud in the room.

"Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" Turner shouted. He jumped to his feet. "You’re breaking containment!"

"Shut up, Doctor," Greer said as she pulled her hood from around her head. She tugged at the tough plastic until her head and shoulders were free, then yanked her headset from her ear. She rubbed her hair briefly, then looked up at Ellie.

"You can go now, Miss," she said. "And you, Mr. Carter. It is my judgement that there is no evidence of danger of contagion of the general population by Miss Andersen, nor does she as an individual pose any greater danger to her fellow citizens than any other individual. She is free to move among her fellow citizens as she sees fit."

Greer smiled up at Ellie, a genuine, pleasant smile.

"This government will no longer molest you because of your size. I imagine you’ll have more than enough problems as it is. We won’t be adding to it."

Turner exploded into a chain of expostulations. He jumped from his seat and rushed towards Greer. The Marshal intercepted him, knocking him away with an outstretched arm.

"You can’t be serious!" Turner shouted. His voice rose in pitch and cracked. "You’re keeping us away from the biggest discovery of all time! Andersen must be detained and her growth researched! What could you be thinking?!"

"Bureaucrat, I’m working on a total of three hours’ sleep in the last twenty four," Greer replied. Her voice was icy. "It’s given me a bit of a headache. Don’t push me."

Greer turned in her seat.

"Ben, Jennifer, ladies and gentlemen: this hearing is closed," she announced.

 

Marshal Ben helped Greer unbuckle the harness of her air tank. It dropped to the floor with a loud clang. Once freed of its weight Greer stood up and let her anticontamination suit drop to her feet. She stepped out of it, stumbling momentarily. She looked back up at Ellie, and offered her another smile.

"Whew," she said. "I always get giddy when I write new law. How in hell can anybody work inside one of those suits? I was only in one for an hour and I felt like I was wrapped in a condom. I wish you luck, Miss Andersen. And you, Mr. Carter. You’re going to need it."

Turner began shouting. The microphone pickup of his headset malfunctioned and his normally professional voice distorted in his suit speaker, blurring his words. He rushed towards Greer. The marshal reacted by flinging out one long arm. Turner bounced off the outstretched arm and thumped against the table. His air tank threw him off balance and he toppled onto the floor.

"Well done, Ben," Greer said in a approving voice. "You do have some good uses after all. Let’s get out of here. I’d like to get some sleep. I can already tell my hand is going to ache from all the writing I’m going to have to do this weekend. General McAllister, I think the folks in this town have had enough military presence for a while, don’t you?"

McAllister looked at the judge. He removed his helmet and unsnapped the harness lines of his MOPP hood. In one smooth motion he slipped off his hood and face mask.

"Yes, ma’am," he replied. "I will order their recall immediately. Well keep some people here for a while to repair some of the mess."

"Acceptable." Greer looked around. "Well, somebody call for that elevator. Who ever heard of a basement with an elevator and no stairs? I’ll never get my exercise this way."

She continued her banter as she moved to the elevator door. Ellie closed her eyes and licked her lips. She felt the bands of tension surrounding her chest and belly ease and break. She relaxed her legs until her knees thumped the ceiling and put her hands over her mouth.

The elevator door opened. Greer and her two aides stepped in, followed by the suited people, McAllister, Chafee and Van Slyck. Turner paused in shaking his headset inside his suit hood and struggled to his feet. He ran to the elevator to squeeze himself in. Thompson also excused himself and made for the elevator, shoving his way inside.

As the doors closed Ellie let out a cry of relief. She looked at the people who remained with her in the receiving bay: Canfield, Odegard, and Steve. She blinked away the excess of moisture in her eyes and swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. Steve moved inside her hand and she felt his arms wrapped round her fingers, squeezing strongly. She lifted him so she could see him directly. He wriggled in her hand and gave her his lopsided grin.

"That’s the expression I like," he said. Ellie felt her smile get bigger on her face. Steve watched intently, his skin coloring. He echoed her smile.

"How do you feel, Ellie?" he asked softly.

"I-I feel good, Steve. Hungry. I’d like to get something more to wear than these things. I’d like to get out of here, too."

Ellie heard Canfield laugh. She and her husband stood near Ellie’s shoulder, their arms linked together.

"Oh, Ellie said. She turned so she could see them both clearly.

"I can’t thank you enough for all the help you’ve given me," she said. "I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Joann, can I—can I hold you? I’d like to give you the biggest hug I can."

Ellie cautiously extended her hand. Canfield smiled broadly and stepped into Ellie’s grasp. Ellie brought Canfield to her cheek, squeezing gently.

"You’re welcome, Ellie. I’m your doctor and I’m your friend. You always remember that, now," Canfield said as she stretched out her arms and returned Ellie’s hug. As Ellie released her she sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"Some doctor," she said, then laughed. "I’m not supposed to get emotionally involved with my patients. Thank God I did this time."

Ellie blinked away the tears that reformed in her eyes. She turned to Odegard.

"Joann, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to give your husband a kiss," she said. Canfield chuckled and grabbed her husband’s arm, dragging him toward Ellie. Ellie caught him up and brought him to her lips for a quick peck.

"Thank you so much for trying to help me—" Ellie began, then stopped. Odegard’s eyes were closed and his body was limp. Ellie opened her hand. Odegard did not move.

"Oh, dear," Canfield said as she observed her husband’s still form. "I’m afraid my honey-bunny isn’t as brave as your Steven, Ellie. He just fainted. Put him down and we’ll bring him to."

"I’m sorry, Joann—"

"Hah! Don’t be." Ellie slipped Odegard to the floor. Canfield promptly slapped his cheeks.

"Come on, dearest, wake up now," she laughed. Odegard’s eyes fluttered open. He looked around.

"Hey, Prof," Steve said. "You okay?"

"Wow," Odegard murmured. His eyes rolled in his head for a moment. "Too-too much."

Canfield’s laughed louder. With Steve’s help she got her husband to her feet, then pinioned him with her arm to keep him upright.

Ellie was about to speak again when a loud clank suddenly echoed in the receiving bay. She turned her head towards the outside entrance. As she watched the heavy steel gate shuddered and began to rise into its box, squealing and rattling. As it rose higher bright light flooded into the bay, followed by a gust of cool, fresh air. The air smelled of rain and the outside world. It tasted wonderful. Ellie took one deep breath, then another.

"FALL OUT!" a loud, commanding voice said. A troop of soldiers suddenly came striding down the ramp into the bay. Unlike every other soldier Ellie had seen they were dressed in their ordinary uniforms and not MOPP suits, their faces and hands visible. Another breath of wind told her that none of the soldiers had seen the inside of a shower for some time. The soldiers promptly formed a human chain and began to hustle the boxes Ellie had previously stacked in front of the entrance up the ramp.

"What’s going on over there?" Steve asked. Ellie turned to face him. Steve was standing on his tiptoes, trying to see over her shoulders and bosom. It startled Ellie to see that she was so big her body blocked his vision.

"They’re soldiers. They’re moving the boxes away from the entrance," she replied. Steve grinned and whistled.

"Well, how about that," he said. "We’ll be out soon enough."

Ellie looked back towards the entrance. As more boxes were removed she felt concern rise inside her.

"Steve, I don’t know if I’ll be able to fit through that door," she said.

"What? No way, I’m sure you can make it out," Steve replied. He looked around the bay, then turned to Canfield and Odegard. "Although it might be a good idea for you guys to go upstairs—Ellie’s going to need the room."

Canfield nodded. She pulled her husband’s arm, leading towards the elevator. Steve waited until it closed before he slipped himself inside the circle of Ellie’s hand again. Ellie promptly lifted him up, depositing him on her chest. Steve held out his arms to balance himself as her chest rose and fell. He carefully minced backwards across her skin until he fetched up against her bosom. Ellie smiled at the obvious care he took in his movements and she brought up a hand to steady him.

"Don’t worry, Steve," she murmured. "You’re not hurting me."

Steve grinned in reply. He looked from one side to another at her breasts. Each was as big as he was tall. He then surprised Ellie by seating himself in her cleavage, wriggling between her breasts.

"You like?" she asked, her surprise replaced by a smile. Steve squirmed a little more, sinking himself deeper into her flesh. He smiled back.

"Comfortable chair," he replied. Ellie brought her arms up and squeezed her breasts together. Steve half disappeared in her flesh.

"Ack!" he said. He squirmed for a moment but couldn’t get his arms free. He looked to either side at the smooth, clear skin surrounding him. He kissed her skin. Ellie murmured at the spark of pleasure his touch caused. Steve looked up at her. Ellie could see his eyes were smoldering.

"I don’t think I’ll have to worry about being cold on a winter’s night again," he said.

"No, you don’t."

"Ellie?"

"Hmmm?"

"Did I say how much I love you today?"

"Not in words."

"I love you, Ellie."

Ellie lowered her arms and fished Steve from her cleavage. She held him over her face, looking at him intently. He blushed a brilliant crimson under her inspection. Ellie lowered him to her cheek and pressed him against her skin. She began to rock her head back and forth as she , cradled Steve against her.

"I love you, Steven Carter," she whispered. "I love you very, very much."

"I love you, Eleanor Andersen," Steve replied. "I love you more now than I did yesterday, and less than tomorrow."

"FALL IN!" the commanding voice shouted. Ellie looked at the outside entrance. All of the boxes that blocked the gate were now cleared. The soldiers who had formed the bottom end of the chain had been staring at her, their eyes boggling in their heads. The shouted command broke their reverie and they began to retreat up the ramp.

"God, Steve I hope I can make it through that door. I don’t want to damage anything," Ellie said. "Maybe I can—oh, no."

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"When I went through the hatch at the laboratory in Texas all my clothes tore off me," Ellie said. Consternation rippled across he features. "Steve, what if that door is so tight I lose my clothes again? I don’t want to be hanging it all out, especially now. It was bad enough when I was twelve feet tall. I’m much bigger now."

"Miss Ellie? The ramp is all clear for you, now." Thompson appeared from outside. His gesture was obvious, but Ellie hesitated. She looked at Steve, who patiently lay in her hands.

"Nothing for it but to try," he said. "Russ, d’you think those military people could keep people away from the ramp? Ellie can use the privacy while she tries to get out of here."

"I’ll see to it," Thompson replied. He hesitated, and removed his hat. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated.

"What is it?" Ellie asked. Thompson’s normally florid complexion got redder.

"Well, it’s just that I wanted to tell you both how good the two of you look together," he said. He fiddled with his hat. "I think you two were meant for each other, if you know what I mean."

Ellie’s smile faded. Her eyes became sad.

"What is it?" Steve asked gently. Ellie looked at him, still in her hands. She murmured in apology and placed him on his feet next to Thompson.

"I’m sorry," she said. "It’s just that the last person to tell me that was Brian."

Steve’s merry expression darkened. Thompson nodded.

"Oh, I almost forgot again," he said suddenly. He reached into his jacket pocket and fished out a piece of brightly-colored construction paper. "My Kathy made this for you. I’d forgot I had it."

Ellie took the paper from Thompson’s hands. Glitter dribbled from out of its folds as she opened it, glinting in the light streaming into the bay from outside. Ellie looked at the paper. Her smile returned and she sniffed.

"Oh, Steve, look," she said, offering him the paper. "It’s a get-well card. Thank you so much, Sheriff. Please tell Kathy ‘thank you’ for me."

Thompson blushed again and waved his hand diffidently.

"It’s my pleasure, although I’m sure you’ll be able to tell Kathy yourself soon—and, please, call me Russ. I’ll go and see about clearing away the crowd."

Thompson rolled back up the ramp. Steve was grinning as he looked at the card. He looked up at Ellie.

"Ready?" he asked. Ellie sighed and nodded.

Ellie twisted herself until she was facing the outer door. She felt her butt brush against the inner wall but there was now room for her to extend her knees. She did so until her feet found the wall, then lifted herself with her elbow. She pushed away from the wall and her head popped out the entrance. She rolled onto her belly and lifted herself on elbows and knees until her breasts were clear of the floor. She began to crawl, moving deliberately. Her shoulders brushed the sides of the door, then her arms. She kept pushing until her hips butted against the entrance. Here she stopped. She began to angle one hip up by degrees, pushing herself outward more and more each time. When she was at a forty-five degree angle to the ground she felt her hips slip through the door. Ellie breathed a sigh of relief and pulled herself up the ramp with her hands, her toes scrabbling on the concrete floor below for purchase. She gathered herself up off the ramp and made one last push.

Ellie was free. Once she was completely up the ramp she first sat on her heels, looking at herself quickly. To her relief she had not lost any of the clothes she wore. Then she slowly rose until she stood erect beside the outside wall of the hospital building.

Ellie felt a stab of vertigo. Everything had changed radically since she first arrived at the hospital—was it only a day ago? Maybe a little more? She couldn’t be sure. As she looked around she realized she was the tallest object in Columbus. She felt her forearm brush against the roof of the hospital, which was just below her elbow. She could see every rooftop around her. Television aerials, air conditioners, attics, vents, other objects she did not recognize—all were completely visible to her. Ellie fought the sense of disorientation she felt. She focused her eyes further away. She could see church spires, power poles, the tops of trees. It was incredible. Her eyes turned up to the sky. It was a pale winter blue, clear save for the occasional cloud. The sun was very warming and she turned to face it, drinking in its brightness.

Ellie looked down. From her vantage the parking lot looked more like her driveway at home. Cars and Humvees were parked around the periphery of the lot and crowded the nearby street. A phalanx of soldiers had formed a living barrier between the parking lot and the street. Ellie saw people, a mass of them, moving from around the corner of the hospital building. They were pointing at her. She could hear their excited conversations. Some voices rose in amazement as more people crowded together to see her. One or two swirls in the crowd dictated where people were fainting at the sight of her. Ellie turned and looked over her shoulder. More people were crowding up to the parking lot behind her, coming up to the line of soldiers posted there. She saw Russ Thompson trotting towards her. An exclamation recalled her attention to her front. Joann Canfield and Augustan Odegard, their arms linked together, had walked out the front entrance of the hospital and were now looking up at her.

Ellie felt a sudden, tremendous timidity engulf her. She was so big, and so built, and she hardly had any clothes on at all—and what she had on was covered with dirt and stains from her sojourn in the receiving bay. Her hair felt dirty and her scalp itched. Her hair was so long it actually had weight, now—she could see it fell all the way to the ground and a little beyond. She couldn’t even see her feet, her boobs were so big. Ellie felt herself awash in embarrassment. She had to resist the urge to find someplace to hide from all the eyes looking at her.

"Ahem," a familiar voice said. Ellie looked over her shoulder. Steve was standing beside her feet, looking up at her. Ellie’s introspective shyness vanished. She smiled and bent to pick him up cradling him in her hands. She lifted him until they were face to face. Focusing on his face she could see his love for her in his eyes. She brought him to her lips and kissed him.

"What would you like to do now, Ellie?" Steve asked as they parted. Ellie looked at him as he slouched in her hands. His breath smoked—it must be colder than she though outside. Ellie looked around once more. She found herself wishing it was all a dream—but it wasn’t. She looked back at Steve and smiled.

"Let’s go home," she said.

 

Growth Encounter - Afterword