The Dilemma

Saturday morning had started off normally enough, for a weekend. Emalee Webb had woken to discover that, as always, Cam had risen before her. She figured that he would be in the garage, working on the grill he had been building for the past three weekends. His Saturday mornings were always devoted to his various projects, so she was surprised when she wandered downstairs and found him sitting at the kitchen table.
    Cam was hunched over her laptop, papers scattered across the table. He hardly glanced at her as she crossed to the refrigerator.
    “Good morning,” he said distractedly as he scribbled something onto one of the sheets of paper.
    “Morning,” she replied. “I thought you would be in the garage.” She pulled the orange juice out of the fridge and poured a glass.
    “Not today.”
    “Obviously. New project idea?”
    “Yes.”
    She leaned against the counter and watched him as she drank. “Have you had breakfast?”
    “I’m not hungry.” He still wouldn’t look at her. Whatever the new idea was, it had him totally absorbed.
    This was usual as well. At the University, she was known as the Artist, and he was the Engineer. They both often brought home their work. Sooner or later, he would come out of it, and then likely spend hours explaining every detail of his new idea while she tried her best to follow along. She would get back at him by spending the next few hours explaining the minutia of genetic manipulation and its effect on the plant or animal she was working on. This month, it was a hedgehog.
    Such was the life of two scientists who were almost as devoted to their work as they were to each other. As far as Ema was concerned, it was a damn good life, too. Unworried, she set the empty glass down in the sink. “I’m going out for a bit. I have to pick up some things.”
    Cam startled her by immediately setting down the pencil and closing the laptop. “I’m coming, too,” he said decisively, getting up from the chair. He began to pad across the floor to the hallway leading to the bedroom.
    Ema placed a hand on his bare chest, stopping him as he passed her. “Cam, I’m only going to the bookstore,” she warned.
    The biggest source of disagreement between Ema and her husband was the merits of recreational reading. While it was true that Ema preferred the classics or history, Cam would only pick up a book if it was a technical manual or was somehow related to his ongoing projects. He usually had to order the ones he wanted and so avoided bookstores altogether.
    She had expected him to return to his designs as soon as she mentioned where she was going, but he surprised her again by insisting on accompanying her. Ema took a mental note of the change and filed it away. It was odd but not yet enough to cause concern.
    Half an hour later, they were both dressed and on their way across town to Ema’s preferred bookshop. Throughout the half-hour trip, his free hand rested on her knee as he drove. He chatted about his plan to build a solar energy system and remove their home from the power grid. His tone was light, but she sensed an undercurrent of tension in his voice. While she was beginning to wonder if something was wrong after all, her first real indicator didn’t come until they reached the shop. Not only had he immediately come in with her, but his demeanor was almost clingy.
    Both she and Cam were outwardly very conservative in their relationship. They always had been. Behind closed doors, in the privacy of their own home, their passion had, at times, bordered on the unhinged, but when they were out and about, a fleeting touch, the merest brush of the fingertips, was all they were likely to display.
    Cam was also apt to become distracted and wander off if something caught his attention, meeting up with her again later full of new ideas. Today, however, he remained glued to her side.
    She tried not to worry too much about his change of character until he slipped his arms around her waist and held her close as she stood in an aisle debating between two leading authorities on orchids.
She could feel his breath on her ear as he buried his face in her hair. The sensation was pleasant but utterly unexpected. She frowned slightly. Her list of mental notes on his odd behaviors was growing long, and she was becoming uneasy.
    She finally led him to the journal section which was unoccupied by any other shoppers. “Cam, what’s wrong?” she asked, picking up a thick leather bound book and flipping through the empty pages.
    “What do you mean?”
    Ema replaced the journal and gave him a dry look. She flicked her gaze to his hand, which was holding onto the hem of her shirt. Cam let go and suddenly seemed uncomfortable. He stepped away from her and picked up a brown volume, pretending to study the leather cover. His expression became clouded, and deep frown lines creased his face.
    Shock, like ice water, rippled down Ema’s spine. If she was collected and logical, Cam could seem downright cold and calculating at times. To see him so obviously agitated startled her. “What’s wrong?” she asked again.
    “I found something, that’s all.” Cam returned the journal to the shelf and turned away, feigning interest in something else.
    Ema blinked, confused. “Found something?” she repeated. “Found what?”
    Cam turned suddenly. He pulled her close, surprising her again with this public intimacy. “Not here, please,” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear. His voice was quiet and pleading.
    Ema pulled away and met his gaze with narrowed eyes. She nodded once, curtly.
She continued to shop until she had found the books she had come for. Cam remained close, but she made no further comments. She was patient, and he would answer her questions soon enough.
    Cam was silent once they reached the car. He let her drive, opting to stare moodily out his window as his fingers tap danced on his knee. As soon as she pulled into the driveway and turned off the car, he unbuckled and got out, not waiting for her.
    Emalee took a deep breath and closed her eyes. An image of him at the bookstore, his mouth set in a grim line, his expression taut, rose unbidden. She immediately opened her eyes to dispel it, but not before that cold feeling crawled down her back again. Quickly, she left the car and followed him into the kitchen.
    He sat at the table and opened the laptop. He began looking over his notes again as the machine booted up. Ema stood beside him, her arms folded.
    “Well?” she asked.
    He glanced at her, but said nothing for several moments. She waited.
    Finally, Cam sat back and gave her his full attention. “There was an anonymous note tucked in the papers you had me grab last night. I didn’t actually read it until this morning, but it had something to do with your work at the University.” He pulled a small blue slip of paper out from under his stack of notes and handed it to her.
    Ema took it and began to read.

“I would like to discuss with you the implications of your latest success.” It said. “It could be very lucrative for you. Please do not make me force the issue.”

    At the bottom of the note was scrawled a phone number. She sighed and sat in the chair beside him. It was his turn to watch her. She thought quietly for a moment, then laughed softly, shaking her head.
    “Your concern is touching, but my last ‘success’ was breeding a hedgehog with naturally green fur.” she said. “I hardly think that is an accomplishment worthy of a threat.”
    Cam did not share the laugh. “Someone does.”
    Ema’s smile faded. “Good god, you’re taking this seriously.”
    “If there is even the remotest possibility that this is real, then yes.”
    “I’m certain it was just someone’s idea of a joke.”
    “I’m not.”
    “Cam-”
    “Woman, don’t. I am not risking any assumptions where your safety is concerned.” He reached out and brushed his fingertips over the back of her hand.
    Ema sighed, relenting somewhat. “Alright. On Monday, I’ll have the Producer pull the camera feed to my lab, find out who left the note on my desk. It was probably the Mechanic.”
    “Until I know that it was just a prank and that you are in no danger, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He returned his attention to his partially finished schematic, signaling the end of the discussion.
    Ema knew that arguing would get her nowhere when he was in a mood, and so she didn’t try. She pulled her new book out of the bag. She rested her bare feet on his lap and leaned back in the chair.
    Silence stretched on, interrupted only by the swish of her page turning or his pencil scratching over the surface of his paper.
    “So,” Cam murmured after a while.
    “Yes?” Ema asked. She bent her head to look more closely at a diagram on the page.
    “A green hedgehog?”
    She had chuckled…

Ema exhaled sharply and looked down at the odd creature that was gazing up at her with beady emerald eyes. Cam had been right. The threat had been real, but Ema was never the one in danger. The truth was far worse than that.
    She had gone to bed Saturday night, cavalierly teasing Cam about his over cautiousness. On Sunday, when she woke up, he was gone. A piece of paper, identical to the one he had found, had been waiting for her in the kitchen sink.

“Do not involve the authorities. Follow our exact instructions, and he shall be returned to you unharmed. Go to the University.”

She had done as it said, and had discovered the third message, sitting on her work table with a cell phone. It had listed in no uncertain terms what was required of her. Monsters and secrets were the order of the day.
    Whoever was behind this had known about her hedgehog experiment, and had deduced, quite rightly, that her methods could change a bit more than just fur color. What they wanted from her was a monster, and she had no choice but to comply. In taking Cam, they had made sure of that.
    Ema cleared her mind and forced herself to concentrate. She took a seat on the stool, bent over the microscope, and began to work. From the corner of her eye, she saw the cell phone that had been left with the note sitting on the corner of the table. It had one number programmed into it, as the note had described. She was to use it, and only it to call when her assignment was finished. She ignored the phone until it got in her way, and then she tossed it to the cot at the back of the room.
    As soon as she had buried herself in the formulas and codes, both genetic and computer, she found that the scientist in her was becoming excited. Just like with the hedgehog, she was creating something new, something never seen before. Monster it may be, when she finished, but it was her monster, her handiwork. Despite the reproach of her human morals, she was almost as proud of this as she was of her other creation.
    She became so absorbed in her work that nearly twenty four hours had passed without her noticing. Her concentration was only broken midmorning on Monday when quick, light footsteps pattered into her lab. She looked up at the little round man who entered, his apple-cheeked face beaming.
    “Ah, the Artist at work, as always!” he said brightly in his piping voice.
    Ema blinked once. “And the Producer interrupting me, as usual,” she replied drily. “What do you want Bertrand?”
    Bertrand O’Malley gave her a look of mild reproach. “There’s no need for rudeness. I was actually looking for the Engineer. Your beloved is not in his shop, so I thought he might be here.”
    Ema sat back, careful to give nothing away in her expression. “Cam isn’t here. He’s home sick.”
    The Producer looked crestfallen. “How unfortunate. I was hoping to let him know that his patch has solved the accelerated rotting problem.”
    “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear it.”
    “Have you no interest in my work?”
    “Why should I? I work with genes, not cameras.”
    The Producer sniffed. “Surveillance equipment.” He produced an apple from the pocket of his white lab coat and continued as if she hadn’t all but dismissed him. “An organic camera. It has the feel and appearance of a true apple, and the heat signature is that of an apple, however I wouldn’t recommend biting into it. A nasty shock that would be.”
    “Can this show and tell wait?” Ema asked sharply, cutting him off. Being yanked from her concentration, she had become acutely aware that Cam had been held for more than a day. She had no way of knowing what her deadline was, or if he would be punished for her delay.
    “Good heavens, Emmy. Is something wrong?"
    Emalee’s patience vanished, and she shot off her stool. She took the Producer by his shoulders, turned him roughly around and marched him to the door.
    “What’s wrong is that I am trying to work, and you are interrupting me over something I couldn’t care less about!” She shoved the flustered scientist into the hallway and closed the door.
    It took several minutes for her to regain her composure. She sat at the microscope and began again, sinking slowly back into the narrow minded focus she needed.

She worked steadily over the course of a week, carefully arranging each protein and amino acid, manipulating each piece of genetic code until she had built the framework of the beast. She never left her lab. When necessary, she slept for a few hours on a cot set up in one corner. There were no more interruptions.
    Once finished, she sat back, staring at the screen which displayed what the creature would look like once she set the process in motion. A mixture of pride and revulsion twisted in the pit of her stomach as she looked at it.
    Her jaw clenched as her hand hovered over the button that would turn this virtual monster into a reality. She glanced at the notes and the cell phone. What these people had in mind for her creation, she didn’t know. Whatever it was, it could only be terrible. Trying not to think about it, she made to press the button but stopped herself just as her fingertips brushed the plastic.
    Moving quickly, her fingers danced over the keyboard, adding a new code. It deviated from the instruction, but not enough to be noticed. Before she could rethink her actions, she pressed the button and released it then got up and left the lab for the first time in days. There was nothing more for her to do than to wait and monitor.
    She left the building and stood outside, letting the crisp wind sweep over her. She breathed deeply several times. The doubts that she had not entertained while she was working flooded her now, and she began to shake. It took nearly half an hour for her regain her calm assurance. She had taken so many huge risks over the past week, and the weight of them nearly crushed her.
    Slowly, she walked down the path of the University’s garden. Plants that didn’t yet exist in any other part of the world grew all around her. She recognized one or two that she, herself, had planted.
    Eventually, she came to the orchard, and was surprised to see the Producer standing on a step ladder beneath an apple tree. He appeared to be trying to put an apple back on its stem.
    “Good evening, Emmy!” he called when he noticed her watching him. “Finally left your dungeon, have you?”
    “Bertrand, what are you doing?”
    He chuckled delightedly. “The Applecam!” he crowed, holding up the apple for a moment. He returned to twisting it back on the stem.
    Ema remembered that he had begun describing the cameras disguised as apples before she had forced him out of her lab. An idea began to form in her mind. She thought it over as he continued to speak.
    “Twelve of the apples on this very tree are, in fact, cameras. Can you tell which ones?”
    She gazed upward, scanning the branches laden with the red orbs. She saw no significant differences in any of the fruits and said as much. The idea began to solidify, and she made a decision.
    He climbed down from his ladder, his fleshy face split by a pleased grin. “Has your husband returned yet? He was very interested to know the outcome of his suggestions.”
    “Actually, Bertrand, Cam is not sick. He never was.”
The fat little man looked puzzled.
    “I need your help. Will you come inside?” Although she kept her emotionless mask, Ema’s heart pounded. She was breaking the rule in the note demanding that she tell no one of her situation. If she made a miscalculation now, everything she had done over the last week could unravel.
    Once they were behind closed doors, she told him everything. He listened, his pleasant face hopelessly confused. For once, he was silent and asked no questions, although he recoiled in horror when she described the creature growing in her incubator.
    When she finished, he mopped his high forehead with his handkerchief several times. “Good heavens, Emmy! Who would do something like this?”
    “I don’t know. That’s why I need you.”
    The Producer gulped. He tried, and failed to put on a brave face. “What could I possibly do?” he asked, his voice quivering.
    Ema smiled faintly. She carefully explained her plan, and, with his help, by the end of the monster’s growing period, every piece was laid out and ready. Her board was set.
    She stood before the darkened glass cage and watched as the beast moved around its environment. She glanced over the printouts for a third time, making sure everything appeared according to her instructions. Satisfied, she picked up the cell phone and dialed the number.
    After three rings, a man answered. “Is it done?”
    Ema licked her lips. “Yes,” she answered, keeping her voice steady. “Is he safe?”
    “At the moment, yes. If you continue to follow our instructions, he shall remain that way.”
    “Actually,” Ema interrupted, “I have instructions for you now.”
    “You are hardly in any position to make demands.” The man sounded amused.
    “As a matter of fact, I am. But I have only one. I will choose the place of meeting. I will only make this exchange somewhere I can feel safe.”
    “Do not push me, Mrs. Webb.”
    Emalee continued. “There is a park on University grounds. A river runs through it, and there is an old bridge that crosses the river. The road leads over that bridge and into a forest. We will meet there.”
    “Do you think me an idiot? Why would I agree to one of the most guarded locations in the country?”
    “I think you were smart enough to invade my office twice and my home once without being detected. You are also smart enough not to try anything so close to any number of my colleagues. One scream from me is all it would take to draw attention.”
    The man on the other end was silent for a moment. “As entertaining as all this is, I will not play games with you Mrs. Webb,” he said finally. All trace of amusement was gone.
    “You started this game as soon as you took my husband. You apparently never took into account that I may be the better player.”
    “Is that so? Then why do I hold all the cards? If you continue this nonsense, I will put a bullet through dearest Cameron’s skull, and then I shall get what I want from you anyways.”
    “Do you think so? You know that I am the only one who can create this thing you want, or you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble. If you kill my husband, I will kill it and then myself. And don’t think that you can simply take my research and give to some other little scientist to decipher. I have destroyed every formula, every calculation, every little note and scribble. All of that knowledge now sits in my head alone, and I will not hesitate to splatter it all over the wall. You’re welcome to test me, though.” Ema waited, listening to the silence at the other end of the line.
    “Very clever, Mrs. Webb.”
    “We will meet at the park that I described. We will conduct this trade, and both you and I will both leave with what we want. Everyone walks away happy. Is that clear?”
    A sigh. “It would seem that I have no choice.”
    “You have as much choice as I did.”
    “Be there is three hours. And know this, if I am unsatisfied with your work for any reason, if it is so much as the wrong shade of brown, your intelligent little brain will not be enough to save you.”
    “I have followed your instructions to the letter,” Ema replied tersely.
    “We’ll see.”
    The line went dead. Ema glanced down at the phone and smirked. She tossed the device in the trash and began to double check the cage. She had already moved the creature, but she was uncertain if the plasma glass would hold if it got too restless. It had acted almost affectionate as she had transferred it, but she had created the damn thing. She knew what it was capable of, and she could not let it escape.
    Once satisfied, she settled onto her stool to wait.

When it was time, the Producer appeared nervously in her doorway as she pulled on her coat.
    “Are you sure about this?” he asked. He wiped the handkerchief across his forehead.
    “I’m not, but I have no alternative.”
    Bertrand nodded and helped her pick up the heavy cage. He gasped and nearly dropped it when the creature shifted.
    “It can’t get out. I made certain of it.”
    “Emmy, what have you done?” Bertrand whispered.
    They were silent as they carried it to the Jeep waiting outside. Ema climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. She looked down at the Producer.
    “Remember what I told you. Do not deviate from my instructions, and maybe this will go right.”
    “Do be careful.”
    Ema nodded, put the vehicle into gear, and crunched away down the gravel drive. With the canopy removed, the crisp, autumn air danced through the Jeep. Ema hardly noticed. She guided the Jeep along the gravel trail that led to the bridge. Once she reached the river, she parked and got out. After checking the cage one final time, she began to walk.
    As she rounded the bend to the clearing, she saw that she was not the first to arrive. Two slate colored SUVs were parked on either side of the road. She counted eight men standing in a loose semi-circle. A few had handguns holstered on their hips. She assumed the rest were carrying under their jackets. Cam was nowhere in sight.
    “Well?” asked the man standing in the center. He was wearing an immaculate pin-striped suit and aviator sunglasses. His hair was slicked back, and one eyebrow lifted. Every detail about him screamed ill-gotten money.
    “Let me see that he’s safe,” Ema replied. “Then I’ll tell you where I parked the vehicle with your monster inside it.”
    The man’s conceited smile vanished, and his nostrils flared. For a moment he seemed to be considering an act of violence, but he only turned and nodded to one of his well-dressed thugs. Two broke away and opened the back of one of the SUVs.
    Ema struggled to maintain her level demeanor as she watched them drag Cam out of the vehicle. He staggered between them, his head covered with a black bag and his hands bound in front of him. One shoved him to his knees beside their ringleader. He listed to the side as the man yanked the hood off.
    Cam blinked owlishly and looked around, dazed. It was obvious that he had been drugged recently, but she exhaled slowly and relaxed when she saw that he wasn’t hurt. Content, Ema refused to look at him again. She fixed the ringleader in her gaze.
    The man swept his arm to the side in a grand gesture. “Unharmed, as promised. Whatever else you may think of me, I am a man of my word.”
    “Clearly.” Ema’s arms remained folded, her voice cold. “There is a green Jeep parked on the other side of the bridge. You’ll find the cage with your prize there.”
    Another nod and two more men raced away to verify her information. Everyone stood tensely as they waited. The man flexed his hands, smiling but impatient. Finally, the Jeep purred its way up the path. One of the men jumped out and jogged to his boss’s side. “She was telling the truth. It’s there,” he said quickly. He glanced back mistrustfully.
    “Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it, either, Daveson.” The man strolled over to the Jeep and climbed into the back with the cage. He peered into it almost lovingly.
    “Satisfied?” Ema asked, allowing boredom to creep into her voice.
    The man leapt down. He clasped his hands behind his back. “You performed admirably.” He flashed a brilliant smile. It might have been charming under other circumstances. “I believe we may have the beginning of a very fruitful partnership.”
    “I would prefer we keep this to a one time transaction.”
    “Fortunately for me, I don’t really care what you prefer, however, it would get tiresome to have to repeat this scenario every time I need something from you.” He chuckled. “But don’t worry. In between the times I need you, there will be plenty of time and opportunity to pursue whatever project you desire.”
    Ema unfolded her arms. “Your generosity is touching.”
    The man gave her a sad smile. “It’s been a pleasure,” he said. “Hopefully, next time will go a little more smoothly.”
    He snapped and, as one, the men moved to the vehicles, including the Jeep. The moment they were out of sight, Ema sprinted the forty feet to Cam’s side. He leaned into her shoulder, muttering something as she used her pocketknife to cut the zip ties on his wrists.
    She kissed the top of his head. “It’s alright now. It’s almost done.”
    Cam shook his head. “They’ll be back,” he slurred. “They’re not done with us.” His pupils were dilated as he tried to focus on her face. Despite the effect of the drug, his grip on her arms was strong.
    “Well, that’s alright, because I’m done with them.”
    Cam looked at her with narrowed eyes, trying to comprehend.
    At that moment, the Producer came puffing down the path, his white lab coat billowing behind him like a pair of crazed white wings. His face was red with the exertion.
    “Bertrand, what are you doing here?” Ema demanded. “I told you to monitor the cameras and wait for us to come to you.”
    The little man shook his head, bending over to catch his breath. “They’re, they’re gone,” he stammered. “They’ve left the campus. I had to make sure Cameron was okay.”
    “He’s fine.” Ema frowned. “But why did you run? It would have been faster and more convenient if you had brought another Jeep. They took mine.”
    The Producer looked sheepish. “I was in a hurry. I didn’t think.”
    She shook her head. “Nevermind. Just tell me, did it work?”
    Bertrand grinned. “Perfectly. They were very good at evading almost all of the security points, but they never saw my cameras. I’ve sent stills to Head of Security. He’s running them now. The Dean’s not at all happy about the breach or the theft of one of his top engineers.”
    “One of his top engineers?” Cam grumbled. His voice was muffled as his face was still pressed against her shoulder.
    Ema wrapped her arms around him and smiled. She noted the creeping warmth of relief. She hadn’t realized, until now, how terrified she had truly been these past weeks.
    She got to her feet and dragged Cam up with her. “Bert, help me,” she said, staggering under her husband’s weight. One on either side, they began walking back. The Producer was soon puffing again, unused to so much physical application.
    As soon as they reached Ema’s lab, Cam collapsed on her cot to sleep of the remaining effect of the sedative. Ema sat on her stool and watched him. That soft, tingling relief continued to warm her.
    “The Dean’s going to want to talk to you,” the Producer said. He doodled nervously on one of her notebooks.
    “I know,” Ema replied. She had almost forgotten that he was still in the room.
    “He won’t be happy with your latest work of ‘Art,’ and I’m afraid I would agree with him. Your idea with my Applecams was brilliant, but that creature… My god, Emmy. People will die.” His face turned as white as his hair.
    Ema shook her head. “No. Those men will be caught tonight. If the Head of Security’s men are as good as he claims, then no one will die. If they are not, then the only bodies will be mine and the Engineer’s.”
    The Producer gaped at her as though she had gone mad. “Why on earth would they come here tonight?”
    “In less than an hour, they will discover that I didn’t quite follow directions and took it upon myself to give their little monster an expiration date. They don’t know about your cameras, so after three successful forays into the University, they will have no qualms about attempting a fourth and final break in.”
    She moved across the room to sit on the cot beside Cam. She smiled fondly at him. “One way or another, it ends tonight.” She looked up at the Producer. “Thank you for your help, Bert. Now I suggest that you go home, in case things go wrong.”
    Bertrand O’Malley nodded slowly, a dumbfound respect dawning on his face. He left, shaking his head and muttering, “Damn woman has thought of everything.”
    When he was gone, the Artist sighed and stretched out beside her husband. For the first time in a long time, she relaxed. It wasn’t over just yet, but all she had left to do was wait.