damned_institute | Day 39: Intercom, Evening

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Day 39: Intercom, Evening

The Head Doctor seemed a little rushed as he spoke on the intercom, not taking as much pleasure as he usually did in describing the delicious food that would soon be served.

"Hello, everyone! Tonight is turkey night, which means turkey breast in a great turkey gravy with some nice turkey sides: peas, herb potatoes, a small garden salad, and for dessert, a slice of pumpkin pie. We of course have vegetarian substitutes available, as well as our usual assortment of drinks.

"...I believe that's it! I'll talk to you soon!"

The intercom clicked off abruptly.

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"Right," Indy replied, "pick a godforsaken corner of the world where you don't stick out like a sore thumb. Should've clarified that." Marcus could've benefited from that advice.

He acknowledged Pierson's point about the ammunition, but he wasn't too concerned with it. Indy was operating on the admittedly sketchy assumption that that guy's gun and ammunition had come from the Institute somehow--guard, hidden weapons stockpile, anything--and that if there was one, there were more.

"If they've got guns here, they've got ammunition. The only question is whether I can get in. Even if I can't, a gun with any ammo at all would help--assuming it's worth whatever it takes to get one."

Indy stood and crossed the room as usual to get ready for the night. He was still monologuing, though as much to himself as to Pierson. "I'm hoping I won't have to do a lot of shooting, anyway. A solid whip crack will scare off most of the wild animals I've met, and I can probably handle most humans if I'm not too badly outnumbered or they're not too heavily armed. A gun would do me the most good with guards, and if they're armed, that'll solve my firepower problem."

The question was whether the whip would crack, not to mention whether anyone else he was likely to meet out there was likely to outnumber or outgun him. He'd just have to improvise.

"Do you have any idea how quickly a man can get thoroughly sick of small fishing villages and farming communities?" Methos asked. He grinned slightly, humor grim and slightly self-mocking. "In all seriousness, large metropolitan centers are often just as good as remote areas, if you want to disappear. The remote areas are harder to find, but the neighbors tend to remember when you moved in, any relationships you've forged, and all too often what you had for breakfast in the morning."

There would likely be ammunition, he had to admit, though he wouldn't have put it past the head doctor to supply just enough to load the gun. That they'd not so much as spotted an armed, human guard still made him uneasy. Each night was making the supernatural angle seem just a little more plausible.

"Most animals won't attack clearly superior numbers, if they'll attack humans at all," he pointed out. "If the stories floating around are true, and what we saw last night does seem to confirm some, that doesn't hold here. The ones inside the walls are likely trained, but I wouldn't be surprised to find the ones outside acting crazed or rabid."

Indy would have thrown up his hands if he hadn't been holding his jacket. "Okay, fine. You're leaving me no choice but to go off and found my own Utopian society, with a huge cache of ammunition and a movie theater that only shows films in black and white. Sounds like it's either that or finding Atlantis." He caught himself grumbling a little now, but good-naturedly--even this topic of conversation was a step above speculating in pointless circles or trading insults all evening.

He hadn't stopped to think all that much about the animals outside, but Indy had to admit after brief consideration that Pierson's theory wasn't implausible. That could be bad. If it had taken, what, three or four kids to fight off King Kong last night, and if that thing had been friendlier than what they were likely to find outside--

"You think they got to the animals outside?" he asked. "I was going to say that sounds like too big an operation even for Landel, but I forgot we're dealing with the time-travel guy here. Guess you might only need a few rabid animals to infect a lot of others, anyway." He paused long enough to finish getting dressed and moved to the closet to collect his equipment for the night. "Unfortunately, sooner or later we're probably just gonna have to take the risk. And I think I've got a slight edge on those kids who were headed outside last night, at least."

"You know, it's been a while since anyone's funded an expedition to Atlantis," Methos mused, feigning utmost gravity in spite of the frivolous turn the topic had taken.

He frowned at Jones for a second, then shook his head. "Actually, I hadn't considered the possibility of them deliberately tampering with the outside wildlife. Given their general lack of ethical concerns, I'd assumed there was a fair chance they might not have taken much care in ensuring their experiments didn't pollute the local environment. Drug contamination, or diseases, or whatever it is they're testing up in that lab of theirs could wreak havoc on the natural balance." He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "If they have tampered with all the animal life, God knows what we'd find out there. But you're right. Taking the risk is inevitable, viewed over the long term."

"Good. Maybe I can get a grant, bring it back into vogue. I've got a...a former colleague who'd love to join the excavation team." Indy's tone had gone sarcastic. He'd read plenty in the papers about those inane Atlantis lectures of Sophia Hapgood's, and he applied the term "colleague" only loosely to any promising scientist who gave up archaeology to become a psychic. She would've had a field day with this place. Probably would have had a seance the first night she got there, tried to channel all the spirits of former patients to tell them which escape plans worked and which didn't. Actually, that'd be pretty nice right about now, Indy thought ruefully.

A minute later, he thought better of this; Sophia was, if anything, even more irascible than Pierson.

Indy shouldered his (admittedly questionable-looking) makeshift whip and turned his attention back to the matters at hand. "I'd rather not get close enough to find out which, honestly. The safest thing would probably be to try to make a scouting trip or two, see if I can get the lay of the land before I go booking any flights to the lost city."

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Day 39: Intercom, Evening

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