Broken Dragon (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 3) by D.W. Moneypenny Page B

and got a blank stare. “Tell me about your husband. You say he’s hibernating?”
    Mrs. Ackerman stood up and said, “Follow me.”
    Bohannon and Mara exchanged glances and followed the woman out of the living room. She led them down a hall to a closed door at the end. Grabbing the doorknob, she waited for them to catch up to her.
    “Is your husband in there?” Bohannon whispered.
    “You don’t need to whisper,” she said and opened the door. “There is no way you can wake him up.”
    The door stalled in her hand; something blocked it from the other side. Mrs. Ackerman pressed her shoulder to it and pushed her way into the room. Whatever it was, was sliding out of the way. Having gotten the door open enough, she squeezed into the room, clearing the way for Bohannon to see inside.
    A mountain of blankets filled the room, covering every inch of the floor, piled high enough to press against the light fixture in the center of the ceiling. It wasn’t clear if furniture was in the room or not. If so, it was buried. Mrs. Ackerman pulled at a multicolored quilt, setting off a minor avalanche. She struggled to get it loose but walked toward the back of the room, pulling the quilt behind her, until it detached from the pile, revealing a large foot, connected to a man, judging by its size and the hair curled around the ankle. The foot twitched and disappeared into the mountain.
    Bohannon pushed against the door to widen the entrance but stopped suddenly. He brought his hand to his nose and backed away. “Whoa, that’s a powerful smell.”
    Mara got a glimpse into the room. A moment later the odor wafted over her, and she too backed away. Covering her nose and mouth, she said, “He’s hibernating under all those blankets?”
    Mrs. Ackerman staggered over the blankets toward them. She grabbed the door for support and kicked away a blanket that had gotten tangled on her shoe. “Yes, my husband has been under that pile for more than a month now.”
    Bohannon turned back toward the living room. “Maybe it would be best if we returned to the living room.”
    Mrs. Ackerman stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed behind her. “Sorry about that. But I have found showing people is more effective than just telling them. At least that way they don’t think I’m delusional.” She waved them back down the hall.
    Mara took her seat again on the couch and said, “Is he actually hibernating, or is that just how you describe it to people?”
    “That is what the doctors call it. About a week after this started, I called a friend who’s a psychiatrist and had him come over to take a look. We actually went in there and unburied Arthur, which was no easy feat. Though he looks like he’s in a deep sleep, he kept reburrowing into the blankets without ever opening his eyes. We had him out long enough for my friend to do a quick physical checkup, and to take some blood and saliva samples. His heartbeat is less than 10 percent of a normal person’s—so is his breathing. His body temperature is around seventy degrees, at least when he’s out of the blankets.”
    “Did they get anything from the blood tests?” Bohannon asked.
    “His cholesterol is off the charts, but they think that is because he’s burning body fat instead of eating. They did find what they think is a strange enzyme, but they’re not sure if it’s related. Physiologically they say he’s acting like a hibernating bear.”
    “Is he in any danger?” Mara asked.
    “They don’t think so, but, honestly, I don’t think they know.” She turned to Bohannon and asked, “So, what is the connection with the other passengers from Arthur’s flight? Do you think they were exposed to something that is causing them to act strangely?”
    “That is what we hope to determine, Mrs. Ackerman,” the detective said. He stood up. “We will be sure to get in touch, if we find out anything that will help your husband.”
    As they walked to the door, Mara asked, “In the