Lost Past by Teresa McCullough, Zachary McCullough Page B

fact. 
                  “I have allergies.” Whatever bothered him on Earth didn’t bother him here, but the mold, dust, or pollen could easily be different.
                  “Yes, but that’s a mistake. They did something to you so you could live on Earth, and allergies came with it.”
                  They had a choice, John realized, a good immune system or no allergies. They gave him the immune system and the allergies were a side effect. For all Katrine’s talk about animals, she never touched an animal. There was no danger of an animal-borne disease mutating to infect people, no swine or bird flu here, because there were no pigs or chickens. Katrine continued to extol the virtues of the Vigintees , and seemed resentful that John was not the perfect man for the Plict . John wondered how a sex drive would continue to exist if it wasn’t bred for, but realized that they must have bred for it, although he couldn’t understand why.
                  But he had more relevant questions. “Why did Hernandez kidnap Arthur Saunders, and where is he?”
                  The spell was broken when she realized she said too much. He knew he couldn’t get her into that semi-hypnotic state again. She didn’t answer his first question, but answered his second. “We don’t know where he is.”

CHAPTER 9
     
                  “They don’t know? What’s going on?” Linda asked, after John recounted his conversation with Katrine .
                  “Arthur disappeared shortly after he was brought here. That’s why we were tagged: so we can be found,” John explained.
                  Linda announced she was going to bed and Wilson pointedly looked at the bunkroom, where Cara was half-awake, and said, “I wish they hadn’t put four of us in a room designed for three.”
                  “The room is designed for six,” John said. “They take turns on the bunks.”
                  “With only three cups?” Wilson asked.
                  “You’re expected to share,” John replied.
                  “I think we’d prefer to keep the same schedule,” Wilson replied. “And I’ll wash the cup before and after using it.”
                  Linda suggested she sleep on the chairs, since she was the shortest. Wilson went for the top bunk and his feet hung out over the end. John took the middle bunk, thinking that his wish to be sleeping with Cara certainly didn’t live up to his expectations.
                  Although John was tired, his thoughts kept him awake. He felt guilty about Mason’s death. He should have told everyone to turn off their cell phones before they met in the motel. Most importantly, he should have turned his own cell off, with its GPS broadcasting his location. He tried to rationalize by saying that if the U.S. government knew what he was planning, then the Vigintees might also know, through no fault of his own.
                  If only he hadn’t delayed Mason, perhaps he would still be alive.
                  What did he need to make reparations for? There was no question as to whom he made reparations to. The unknown patients he helped could hardly be his goal. He helped Tom and Linda, which meant he was somehow connected to Natalie’s disappearance. Did Hernandez kill her? If so, why? And how was he responsible?
                  Katrine was an unpleasant subject to think about. She was a monster, and he once loved her. No, by the Vigintees definition, she wasn’t a monster. People from Earth really were animals to them. Because of the Vigintees ’ technological sophistication, he assumed there was also social sophistication. They never had to deal with people who looked different, lived differently, and yet were obviously human. Of course, they dealt with the Plict , but that was easier, because