Going Bovine
Page 38“But how—”
She holds up a finger. “I’m getting to it. Don’t rush a girl in the middle of her exposition. But it’s also what’s going to allow you to find Dr. X. Those prions can help you see what everybody else would miss. By not working ‘right,’ your brain is actually capable of seeing more than anybody else’s, including mine.” She taps the side of my head. “What’s going on in here right now will help you make sense of the signs and find Dr. X’s secret location.”
“Signs?” I repeat, because I’ve only understood about three words she’s said.
“Yes. Yes! Signs!” She leaps up in excitement and nearly sends my plastic water pitcher to the floor. “Tabloids, billboards, ‘coincidences’—things no one else pays attention to. These are the clues for your journey. It’s up to you to decipher it, to connect the dots and find the meaning.”
I squeeze my hands against my head as if I could make this stop. “This is officially the craziest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Really? Man oh man, I could tell you a few things …” She laughs, then stops. “Right. Not important. So. Anyway. There’s a lot going on in those tabloids. You’d be surprised. It’s like alternate universe code. And that’s how Dr. X has been communicating. Through tabloid code. He needs help, Cameron—he’s not a well man.”
“But that’s so totally random!”
Dulcie tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “In a world like this one, only the random makes sense.”
“Randomly connected, connected very randomly,” she says, examining Jenna’s stuffed cat, Mr. Bubbles Kitty. “Cute. So soft. Cotton? Hey there, kitty. Do you think Cameron should go on this mission and save the world from complete destruction? Just nod for yes.” She makes the cat nod.
I tear Mr. Bubbles Kitty out of her hands. “I still don’t understand how it is that you can’t find this guy. You’re an angel. Aren’t you? Don’t you have any angel superpowers—appearing to shepherds in fields where they lay, blowing trumpets? Laser eyes? At the very least, you should have some kind of angel GPS for locating missing people.”
“I’m just a messenger. That’s all.”
A prickly feeling works its way up my arms. “Wait, are you an alien? Where’d you come from?”
“Great question! Anyway, I don’t want you to fret. I’m not gonna abandon you to tabloids and billboards. I’ll be checking in, here and there.”
“Checking in?”
“Here and there.”
She sucks on the plastic spoon again. When she pulls it out, it’s coated in what’s left of her lipstick. “I was saving the best for last. There’s a bonus round. Dr. X is the one person who can cure you.”
I sit straight up. “Wait, they said there is no cure—”
“—That they know of,” Dulcie interrupts. “But there is a cure. And Dr. X has it.”
A cure. It seems as ridiculous as those spray-painted feathers she’s sporting. But a cure …
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m hooked up to an IV. I can barely move.”
“Yeah. I can help you out a little there, cowboy. I’ve got something Dr. X left behind. One of his early experiments. Hold out your wrist?” I do and she hooks what looks like a big plastic watchband around it. “Your temporary pass. It’ll keep the symptoms at bay and stabilize you for about two weeks. After that …”
“After that, what?”
Hearing her say that makes my heart beat a little faster. The watchband has something inside—a laminated green card with writing on it. Walt Disney World. Magic Kingdom. “E.” Adult Admission. Good for Choice of One. On the left side is a list: Adventureland, Frontierland, Liberty Square, Fantasy-land, Tomorrowland. “What is this?”
“An E-ticket,” she says excitedly.
“An E-what?”
“E-ticket. They used to have them at Disney World a million years ago. They got you a straight shot to the best rides. So awesome! Of course, those tickets are discontinued now, so you should be careful with that one.”