Free The Monolith Murders by Lorne L. Bentley Page A

with the relative slow process of nature; but this is an artificially engendered process which unfolds rapidly in a real time environment.”  
    “I have a final question; you said that the cerebral cortex now controls the older, original brain.”  
    “That’s correct.”
    “Suppose in someone like Donna, that process was reversed? What would happen?”
    “You mean if the reptile brain became the controller? That’s a highly academic question, but if it could happen, Donna would respond to perceived threats in an aggressive reflexive manner. She would unleash her powers without constraint because there would no longer be a mental restriction.”
    “Almost like pure evil?” Fred asked, recalling Maureen’s uncompleted description of Donna.
    “Fred, I’m a scientist and I don’t usually employ that word, but I guess—yes, evil or baseness would be the appropriate word. Fred, we must thank God she no longer has that device.”
    Fred thought, If only he knew—Oh, my God, if he only knew!

 
    Chapter 13
     
    Fred’s next mission was to pick up his new adopted dog. When he arrived at the kennel, the vet said, “We saved Who Cares’ leg but we had to put a cast on it to hold it in place until it fully heals. She’s such a small dog that we had to use a human aluminum finger cast to accomplish it.”  
    Fred couldn’t believe the size of the vet bill. Maybe we need a Medicaid program for stray dogs, he thought. But knowing Maureen, when I tell her about it I’m sure she will champion the cause, regardless of the expense.
    Fred spent a few minutes in his yard playing with Molly and Who Cares and then took them inside. After a lot of sniffing and exploring on both their parts, they reached an armed truce, each settling peacefully down on the living room floor and falling asleep. Who Cares’ aluminum cast made a noisy tapping sound on the bare wood floor whenever he got up to walk around. Maureen will not be happy with that constant noise, he thought. I just hope Who Cares is housebroken, or I’ll be the one who cares.  
    * * *
    Fred touched base on the phone with the warden of the Woman’s Corrective Institution. The institution was located in the outskirts of Tallahassee, a four to five hour drive from Sarasota. It was now eight a.m. Fred set the meeting time for 1 p.m., giving him fortunately no time to finish his coffee, but unfortunately also no time to think about having breakfast before he left.
    As he started to leave his house, Sue Granton knocked on the front door. Fred had not made up his mind relative to Sue, but Maureen had kindled a rapid and strong friendship with her. As long as Maureen liked her, that was good enough for Fred; and Maureen did have an ability to quickly evaluate people, recognizing their faults as well as their strengths.  
    Fred asked, “How’s your tooth?”
    “What tooth?”
    “The tooth that’s causing you pain.”
    “Oh, yeah. Oh, I took some pain medication and for the moment it’s all right.”
    At that moment Maureen walked into the living room. It was obvious to Fred, based on the glow on her face that an enduring friendship had already developed between the two.  
    * * *
    Fred hopped in his car and within an hour he was zipping on his way up I-75 north, passing the Tampa I-4 exit which would have taken him in the direction of Disney World and the metropolis of Orlando. In a couple more hours he was approaching Lake City near the southern Georgia border. His stomach was pleading for nourishment and his bladder was about to detonate—he pulled off at a McDonald’s just off the interstate. He ordered a couple of their dollar specials with the addition of a large orange juice. He ate and drank his meal in the car while he drove, something that Maureen continuously cautioned him about. “One of these days you’ll wreck that car trying to eat and drive,” she had told him many times. As was usually the case, he ignored her warning. He had turned west merging