Days’ End

Scott L. Collins

Outskirts Press, Inc.

Denver, Colorado

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

Days’ End

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2009 Scott L Collins

Cover Design by Amanda Kerr.

www.kerrscreativedesigns.com

V2.0

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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PB ISBN: 978-1-4327-3991-1

HB ISBN: 978-1-4327-4387-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2009932021

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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Dedication

Dedicated to my two energetic boys who fill my days with joy and love, and my gorgeous wife who told me to shut up, stop talking about it, and write the book already. Thank you all for your encouragement and support.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Mayim Bialik for sharing your knowledge of biology. Thanks also to Becca McConnell and Robert Gardner for your assistance with DNA retrieval techniques and security system set-ups respectively. To my father, brother, sister, and good friend Margit Crane, thank you for your input in the early stages of development. Thanks also to my editor Candie Moonshower who polished my book to truly make it shine. To Amanda Kerr, thanks for the book cover design and website setup. Last, but not least, I’d like to thank Patrick Leyden, PJ, for your computer savvy. The book wouldn’t be what it is without your guidance. Cheers, and I love you all.

This was to be his last day on Earth. He stood at the Zion Gate in Jerusalem, facing south, watching the shadows stretch out before him as the sun rose in the eastern sky. The glare of the sun off the windshield of a slow-moving taxi cab caused him to squint.

His black overcoat hung open and swirled in the wind gusting through the narrow streets. His brand new black and white pinstriped suit was still stiff with starch and his gold watch glistened in the morning light. The freshly pressed black shirt and tie complemented his suit perfectly. He’d had his shoes polished this very morning and could almost see his reflection. His dark brown hair was tossed about by the wind.

His eyes drifted over the old bullet holes still scarring the ancient wall around the Zion Gate. The brown stones used to construct the wall had held up remarkably well over the years since it had first been assembled. He looked down at the Star of David built into the road leading into the tunnel. His wandering eyes finally found what they’d been searching for.

He stared intently at the building in the distance, the powerful gaze of his blue eyes focused only on that ancient monument. Ahead of him, atop Mount Zion, stood the Dormition Church and beside it, on the second floor, the Cenacle. That was the room where his seemingly timeless journey had started, and after waiting what seemed an eternity, this was where he wanted to be for the end. It wasn’t quite as he remembered it, but that had been so long ago. He found it remarkable how the landscape changed over time. Buildings he had believed would stand forever were torn down, although in this case the church had been rebuilt.

He held his sign loosely, content with the message he was trying to spread, his ego demanding the attention. People in long coats scurried around him, trying desperately to get home or to work before the storm moved in. The day had begun sunny yet brisk, but a severe thunderstorm was expected for later that morning.

The cold didn’t bother him on this day; he was at peace. Finally, everything he had been waiting for was about to unfold. He absentmindedly ran his right thumb over the scar running from behind his right ear and down across his throat and watched as the clouds he exhaled evaporated into the cold dawn air. He became lost in his memories, drawn backward to that fateful day. An eternity had passed since he had received that wound. It was his last mark of humanity. Everything since then had been a curse. He could hardly believe it was all about to finally end.

Drawn back to the here and now, he realized that not many people would make eye contact with him. Many would stare at him and then glance down at their shoes the minute he looked back. Strange that they would treat him like a vagrant on the street, rambling on to himself about the end of the world. They didn’t know. They didn’t want to know. They all wanted to think he was crazy, but he knew he was right. He had been planning for so long, saving for so long, wanting for so long. Now all of his hard work would pay off. His perseverance and enormous expense would come to fruition. Now, on this day.

He didn’t speak. His sign said it all. The end is now.

January 1, 2012-12:01 AM

“Wow,” Nysa breathed. “I never get tired of kissing you.”

“C’mon lover, let’s go outside for a smoke.”

They had been together for just over two years and although they’d had their problems, he was grateful to have her in his life. As they worked their way to the door Alastair reached into his pocket and pulled out his box of Camel Lights. God, he was grateful to have come back to California from New York. He hated having to walk outside to have his cigarette, but it was worse to have to walk out into a ten-degree blizzard. He handed one to Nysa and they walked hand in hand to the door, squeezing through the overcrowded bar and past the few booths that lined the walls. They had stopped at the House of Blues on the Sunset strip after taking in a movie. They managed to wind their way through the room without jostling anyone’s drink. Alastair opened the door for Nysa and swatted her lightly on the bottom as she walked out in front of him.

Alastair took out his lighter, making sure to light hers first. Alastair relished the feeling of the smoke filling his lungs. He held in the first drag briefly and let it out with a long sigh. He could feel the tension drain from his body, almost like it was floating away with the smoke he’d just exhaled.

They sat and smoked, watching the cars cruise up and down the street, some looking for parking, others just wanting to be seen. Scantily clad women meandered up and down the street hoping to be discovered. Men with less than good intentions followed behind, hoping to do the discovering. Horns blared, voices laughed and yelled back and forth across the busy boulevard. Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and Aston Martins rolled lazily back and forth, back and forth. It was enough to make Alastair sick. What good were these people? All they cared about was who knew whom, and if sleeping with someone would advance their career. Alastair pushed the thought from his mind, trying to focus on having a good time ringing in the New Year.

“Beautiful night out tonight, don’t you think?” Nysa asked Alastair.

“Lovely,” he replied. He would much rather be inside where it was warmer. He pulled out another cigarette for each of them and leaned over as he flicked his Zippo open, lit her cigarette, paused to light his own, and shoved the lighter back in his pocket. He leaned back and they continued to watch the pedestrians outside the bars crowding both sides of the street, hundreds of college students, wannabe actors and actresses and, on occasion, an actual movie star, although they didn’t have to wait in the lines that had formed outside.

“What do you say we blow this joint, go home, and get naked?” he asked her, slowly exhaling his first drag.

She immediately crushed out her freshly lit cigarette, took his hand, and pushed her way through the packed area in front of the bar, beating him to the car. He walked around to her side and opened the door for her. She gave him a quick peck on the lips and then brushed her rear seductively across his groin as she turned and sat in the car, causing him to gasp.

Nysa smiled up at him. “Let’s go.”

He walked around to the driver’s side of the BMW and climbed in beside her. After pulling out of the parking space, he made his way back to the 405 South to start the short trip to Venice and their apartment. Alastair drove quickly. He was breathing hard and trying to concentrate on the road ahead instead of on his growing desire. He was tempted to pull onto the shoulder and attack her right there on the side of the freeway. Nysa wasn’t helping. Her hand had been in his pants from the moment he had closed his door. Alastair returned the favor. A truck driver, watching them in his rear-view mirror, honked his horn and flashed his lights as they passed. Nysa was apparently too involved in her task to either notice or care, as she didn’t seem to react to the noise and lights. Luckily no Chippies were out and about.

They pulled into the driveway a short thirty minutes after leaving the bar. When they arrived, they hurried up the stairs to their front door and walked immediately to the bedroom. He slowly removed her heels, stockings, skirt, and blouse. Nysa was not as gentle or patient. Alastair lost two buttons from his polo shirt and would have to spend some time tomorrow removing his boxer briefs from the fly of his khakis.

He lay in bed afterward, having another cigarette and thinking about how far they had come in their relationship. They still had arguments and tiffs but things continued to be good in the bedroom. They had met at a Halloween party a little over two years ago at a mutual friend’s house. It had been one hell of a get-together. One of Alastair’s friends had bought a house in Studio City shortly after college. He and his roommates had spent days prepping the house for the party. The lawn out front was adorned with tombstones, fake spider webs hung from the ceilings and doorways, coffins and bodies lay on the tables, and black-lights filled the house. The music was loud and the temperature warm from the body heat of those packed into the rooms.

Alastair had been sitting on a sofa in a relatively quiet room chatting with a friend from work. He’d been dressed as a Scotsman, complete with kilt and bagpipes, which were sitting on the couch next to him. Alastair wasn’t sure if Nysa hadn’t noticed them or just thought them to be a pillow, but she sat down right on them. She’d leapt into the air like she’d just been probed with a hot poker and sprayed her drink on all those within a three-foot radius. Everybody in the room turned to look at her.

Alastair had also turned and was instantly hooked. Her long blonde hair spilled down her back like a golden waterfall and her beautiful brown eyes were captivating. Nysa had been dressed as an angel that night and, in Alastair’s opinion, fit the role perfectly. Although he discovered later that her blonde hair was naturally straight, she’d curled it that evening. The golden locks pouring over her shoulders and onto her white robe, the way the delicate wings complemented her perfect skin, the rope tied around her waist to give him a hint of her figure—every detail had combined perfectly into the gorgeous being standing before him.

After the laughter had died down, Alastair had moved his bagpipes to the floor so Nysa could sit. He fetched new drinks.

Handing her a glass, Alastair had introduced himself. “I’m Alastair by the way. I live here. Who, might I ask, do I have the pleasure of embarrassing with my bagpipes?”

Nysa smiled. “Nysa, Nysa Knight. I came with my friend Sam. Nice place.”

They had spent the rest of the evening on the couch talking. He had been surprised to learn that she was a doctor and berated himself silently for being so preoccupied with her looks that he hadn’t really considered her intellect. What had impressed him most, however, was not only how deep her knowledge was, but how broad. They’d spent the evening discussing a variety of topics and she had an opinion on them all, and the facts to back them up. Alastair had been mesmerized by her eyes and had spent the evening lost in them. The attraction was mutual.

The evening had passed quickly and both were unwilling to let it end. When Alastair had asked if she would like to go back to his apartment, Nysa quickly accepted the offer. They hadn’t been at his place for long when their emotional bond turned physical. What Alastair had intended to be a brief kiss became long and passionate. As Nysa caressed his shoulders and held him to her, Alastair’s hands had moved down to her waist, and he’d admired the contours of her body, thin but far from feeling like a bag of antlers.

They moved to the bedroom, pausing only to remove their clothes and for another lingering kiss, Alastair pinning Nysa to the wall. She was the perfect height for him. He didn’t have to bend down to kiss her nor did he have to look up at her.

Alastair had been surprised by Nysa’s passion. They spent the evening wrapped in each others arms, until they both had collapsed exhausted. They had been together ever since.

They had had their share of difficulties though, primarily because of him. Alastair had always been a heavy drinker, but it wasn’t until their first anniversary that he’d realized it was a problem. They’d returned the next year for the Halloween party, except this time they didn’t wind up in bed together. Once again, he’d had too much to drink. He remembered exiting the freeway at Venice, could once again feel how he had lost control of the car and struck the barrier separating the exit from the on ramp. The car had flipped and they had both spent the night in the hospital. The next day, he’d had a couple drinks to kill the pain. But the pain kept getting worse, and so did his drinking. He’d missed quite a few days of work because he was still passed out and had shown up hung over for the rest. He’d finally been forced into attending AA meetings by his boss, who threatened to fire him if he didn’t go. He’d thought it all a crock of shit the first few times he went, but he kept going back, sometimes loaded.

One night, listening to a speaker talk about his life, Alastair had started to understand that he had a problem and that these people understood and could help. After all, they’d lived it, and they’d conquered it. He’d gotten a sponsor and had his last drink at 1:33 P.M. on December 3, 1999. It had been a Jack and Coke, his favorite drink.

Alcoholics Anonymous was where he’d picked up smoking; smoking and coffee. He couldn’t figure out how anybody could be in AA and not smoke. Everyone stood outside before the meeting smoking like a chimney, and as soon as there was a break there was a crowd outside the door puffing away. Then everyone gathered again after the meeting to smoke and rehash the meeting. It was only a matter of time before he took up the habit, standing outside smoking next to ashtrays the size of trashcans, always with a hot cup of coffee in his hand.

I don’t know that I will ever be forgiven for what I have done. My best friend and mentor is dead, and I am to blame. How could I have been so blind to their true intentions? I don’t think I can take the pain much longer. Everywhere I go people look, point, and throw stones. Their hatred for me is very clear. I deserve it; I have betrayed the finest man the world has ever known. Please forgive me.

January 2

Nysa woke up early, showered, and got ready for work. She dressed quickly in a pair of black slacks and a white blouse, stepped into her shoes, and grabbed her purse. She kissed Alastair softly on his stubbly cheek as he slept and slipped out the front door. Making her way around the apartment complex to the parking lot, she climbed into her ancient blue Mazda, snapped on the radio to KROQ, and drove quickly but prudently to work.

She was excited about how far she had come in her research. She tapped her foot and sang along as she made her way slowly through traffic toward the freeway, careful to avoid the ever present assholes. Nysa had been working at the UCLA Medical Center since 1995, doing studies in cloning applications and techniques for the last three years. Although still quite young, she was considered one of the most knowledgeable in the field of cloning techniques.

While she had never actually cloned an animal, she had developed several important methods used in procuring the DNA required to begin the cloning process. It wasn’t difficult to clone something that you had handy, like a cow or sheep, but she wanted to enable science to study dinosaurs, caveman, or even, perhaps, an historical icon like Abraham Lincoln. The possibilities were endless. For now, she would just focus on the tasks at hand, developing procedures to retrieve complete DNA samples from aged remnants, or at least fragments large enough that the strand could be reconstructed.

Nysa arrived at her lab before anyone else as she did every morning. She quickly checked her samples before going to her lab to prepare for the day. Hanging her purse on the hook on the back of her door, Nysa made her way over to her desk and sat down. Her first order of business was to check her incoming e-mail. As she scrolled through her inbox, deleting the constant influx of garbage, she spotted an address she didn’t recognize, but not one pitching Viagra or the newest method of penis enlargement. This one was direct and to the point. The subject line read: Job Opportunity for Nysa Knight. As it had obviously been personalized and didn’t appear to be spam, she opened it.

“Dr. Knight,

I am very interested in your career. Based on extensive research on you and your peers, I have selected you as my primary candidate to head up a private project. I will provide any equipment and funding you need to complete the project and upon completion will compensate you generously for your time and effort. I must warn you however, I do not tolerate failure. If you accept this offer, I expect your full dedication until such time as the project comes to fruition. If you decline, I’m sure that Dr. Robert Platte will be happy to seize this opportunity to make history. Please reply back with your decision by midnight tomorrow, as I intend to move quickly on this project. If you accept, additional instructions will follow. If you decline, good luck and farewell.”

Nysa wasn’t quite sure what to make of the e-mail. She knew that she had a good reputation among her peers, but being selected to lead a project would be a giant step forward in her career. And as for that cheating bastard Robert, even if she didn’t accept the offer, she would let this individual know what kind of pig he was. A boyfriend in grad school, Nysa had caught him in bed with her roommate one night when she came home early from a study group. She’d broken up with him immediately despite his protests that it had just happened, and that it didn’t mean anything. What a pig. And that line—didn’t everyone in the movies use that line when caught cheating on their significant other? At least come up with something original, she’d thought to herself.

Pulling herself back to the present, the more she thought about the mysterious offer, the more confused she became. Finally she decided to discuss it with Alastair and make her decision then. For now, she had work to do.

All day she pondered the e-mail and tried to make heads or tails of who had contacted her. She hadn’t recognized the sender address, and the e-mail had not been signed. And how had this anonymous person come to choose her? Her mind raced with questions: What exactly was the project? When would it start? What would she need? Would she accept?

Her life was becoming normal again. Alastair had quit drinking. She had been able to redirect her focus back on her work, and her career was again on the rise. She was well liked and respected among her peers. Did she really want to risk the unknown at this point? She would have to request a leave of absence for an unspecified amount of time. Good luck on that, she thought. She might have to leave UCLA altogether. Was she willing to leave all that she had accomplished behind? Thoughts and questions rattled around in her head like bingo balls. It became difficult to concentrate on the job at hand.

After finishing at least some of her work for the day, Nysa called it quits. After scribbling some last minute notes, Nysa logged off and headed home. When Nysa arrived she found dinner waiting for her. Alastair had finished early at work and had surprised her. While the dinner wasn’t anything to write home about—spaghetti and salad—she appreciated the effort. She kicked off her shoes, flung her purse onto the couch, and sat down at the table opposite Alastair. She let her hair down out of the bun she had put it in that morning and dug in.

“How was your day, babe?” she asked after wolfing down a few bites.

“Same old routine,” he replied. “Just sat at my desk all day programming and thinking of you.” He gave her a wink. “How about you?”

She hesitated. “I got something strange today.” Nysa then related the contents of the e-mail she had received that morning. “What do you think?”

“Strange is an understatement. This person seems to know a lot about you. I don’t like it. Does it bother you?”

“Not really,” Nysa replied. “He brought up Robert, which was a little weird, but it just seemed like he did it to bait me. It’s still common knowledge around the lab what happened, so it wouldn’t have been too hard to find out.”

“I don’t know. It sounds a bit off to me. Do you have any idea who it might be or who he might have talked to about you?”

“No,” Nysa replied. “None. I was thinking about it at work but I haven’t heard anyone say anything about someone nosing around. I also don’t recognize the e-mail address. Not that it’s difficult to hide who you are through the Internet.”

“That’s for sure,” Alastair replied. “I don’t know,” he continued. “It sounds weird to me, but if you’re interested, I guess it can’t hurt to listen. If not, just tell him. Either way, be careful. No getting into vans with the windows painted or anything, okay?” Alastair teased. “But seriously, if you have any doubts or think there might be something dangerous going on, give me a call.”

“Deal.”

With that settled, Nysa and Alastair finished their dinner while discussing current events, various problems at work, and any juicy gossip they’d heard. When they were finished, Nysa cleared the table and, while doing the dishes, continued to ponder the offer. Who knows? It could be the opportunity of a lifetime.

When she finished drying the last of the dishes, she retired to the study, signed on to her work e-mail, and sent her reply. After a long hot shower, she went through her nightly routine of brushing her hair.

“Fifty-seven, fifty-eight…oh screw it,” Nysa murmured, tossing her brush on the vanity. She made her way back to the bedroom, climbed into bed, snuggled in next to her man, and drifted slowly off to sleep.

It seems that I am to be punished for my sin. Humanity has left me, I am left with only a small reminder of the man I once was. Death cannot come quickly enough, yet I fear it is a long way off for me for I fail even in my attempts to end my own life. How should I fill my days? Do I try and become the man I always should have been, or do I embrace the man people believe me to be? I don’t know. Maybe as this miserable life passes, I will find a way to redeem myself, or at least put an end to my misery.

January 3

One nice thing about arriving at work before everyone else was the privacy it afforded should one need, for example, to check on other job opportunities. While this was her work e-mail, it was not monitored and read by her supervisors as in so many other businesses. When she entered the office she went through her normal morning routine, although slightly faster than usual.

As she sat down to check her e-mail, she realized that she was slightly nervous. A few butterflies flitted around in her stomach and her palms were a bit damp. She rubbed them on her slacks and signed on to her computer. She scanned through the barrage of crap in her inbox until she saw it.

“Dr. Knight, I can’t begin to tell you how pleased I am by your decision. A representative of mine will contact you shortly to further discuss the details of your employment.”

A representative? Shortly? Could this be any more vague? She read and reread the e-mail to make sure she hadn’t missed something. She was beginning to wonder if this was some kind of hoax, a bad practical joke. She chewed on the end of her pen as she tried to plan her next move. Eventually, she logged off and got back to work. She was attempting to extract some DNA from a sample obtained from King Tutankhamen, compliments of the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. The work was a bit monotonous but helped keep her mind off the morning’s e-mail.

By the time she paused for a rest it was almost noon. A few people had wandered into the lab over the last few hours but most had extended their New Year’s holiday for a few more days. Nysa put her equipment away, grabbed her purse, and wound her way down the corridors on her way out.

She walked out into the afternoon sunshine and called Alastair on her cell phone to tell him about the cryptic e-mail she had received, but she hung up when she reached his voicemail. As she put her phone back in her purse, she was approached by a tall, well-built, and handsome young man wearing a three-piece suit that Nysa doubted was off the rack. His belt, shoes, and briefcase matched, and he wore a tie that seemed to bring it all together perfectly. His dusty, light brown hair was conservatively cut. He approached her without hesitation, extended his right hand and gave her a firm, quick handshake.

“Dr. Knight, I’m Gary Stevens. I represent a person with whom you have had recent contact. Will you please join me for lunch to discuss the details?”

“Um…” Nysa hesitated.

“I assure you Dr. Knight, you are not now, nor will you ever be, in any danger. If you are unconvinced, you are welcome to take my card back inside to your office and verify my credentials. I’ll wait here or, if you would prefer, accompany you back to your labs.”

Nysa was still reluctant but gave in to her curiosity. “No. That won’t be necessary.”

“Very well, right this way.”

He led her to a town car waiting close by. Mr. Stevens opened the rear door, and as she climbed in she noticed the privacy screen between the driver and back seat was raised. The young man then walked around the car and climbed in beside her. As the car pulled away from the curb, he began to speak.

“As I’m sure you have figured out by now, Dr. Knight, I represent a man who is somewhat eccentric. He also prefers to stay out of the public eye, hence my presence here today. He has a few stipulations that he believes will be better received in person. We can discuss them over lunch. For now, do you have any questions that I can answer for you?”

She didn’t even know where to begin. “Who are you exactly?”

“Gary Stevens, attorney at law.”

“And who do you work for?”

“You may call him Mr. Scario if you would like, though I doubt you will ever meet or speak to him directly.”

“What is the project?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the details, only to assure you that you were found to be the best person for the job. All I can tell you is that everything you need will be provided, cloning is involved, and you will be well compensated.”

“How is this being funded?” she asked.

“This is a private project funded exclusively by Mr. Scario himself.”

“What? How can he afford to fund a cloning project by himself? Why?”

“I assure you that even if I knew that information I would not be able to divulge it. Mr. Scario is an enormously wealthy man who is in tune with developments in science. He invests frequently in cutting edge medical developments. You should be honored to be chosen for his project. He is quite meticulous when it comes to selecting his employees.”

Nysa detected a touch of boastfulness in his last sentence and fought off the urge to roll her eyes. “When would I start?”

“We hope to have everything in place to begin the project by February first.”

“How long is the project expected to take?”

“Dr. Knight, as I’m sure you remember from the e-mail, Mr. Scario does not tolerate failure. This project will continue until it is completed.”

“Can you give me a ballpark figure?”

“Assuming everything goes as planned and there are no major setbacks, I would guess a year, two at most.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence as she contemplated what had been said. She watched as they passed houses, which seemed to grow larger and larger the further they moved away from the college, and continued staring out the window as the houses were replaced by office buildings and retail stores. A short while later they pulled up in front of The Ivy, a popular, trendy Beverly Hills restaurant. She got out of the car and followed Mr. Stevens to a table in the back, away from the other diners.

From the exterior, The Ivy looked like a worn-down garden home with tables set out for guests. The interior was much the same, the decorations on the walls historic American emblems, wicker baskets, and chairs. A small fireplace stood along one wall as they entered the front dining room.

Nysa spotted more than one famous actor as they made their way past the other diners. She mentally compared her cheap blouse and slacks from Ross to the other diners’ clothes, which appeared to have been purchased exclusively on Rodeo Drive.

As soon as they sat, Mr. Stevens cleared his throat and, in a voice low enough to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard, began to speak. “Dr. Knight, as I told you in the car, there are a few details that Mr. Scario wanted delivered in person due to their unique nature. Some may require an explanation on my part while others you will merely have to accept should you wish to pursue this opportunity. Are you clear?”

“Yes.”

The waiter, no doubt an aspiring actor based on his over the top dramatization of his delivery of their water, arrived at their table and took their orders. Stevens ordered only a Perrier with a twist of lime, Nysa the house Cobb with ranch dressing on the side. The waiter took the menus and left the table as quickly as he had come, returning shortly with Mr. Stevens’ drink and Nysa’s salad. The lawyer continued. “Very good. First, we will pick you up at your place of residence, and you will be relocated to the facility where the project is going to take place. You may pack whatever you would like with the exception of cell phones, laptops, blackberries—anything with which you can make or receive calls or e-mails. You are not to have any contact outside of the facility while the project is ongoing. Also, should you be replaced, you will remain at the facility anyway until its completion. These rules are due to the sensitive nature of the project. Any questions?”

“Yes, but I’ll wait until you’re done and ask them all. Please, continue,” Nysa replied.

“Second, the location of the project will not be disclosed to you. If you accept the offer, we will handle all aspects of your relocation to the project facility. This is also due to the secrecy surrounding the project.”

“Third, regarding your pay for this project, Mr. Scario is prepared to offer you any reasonable amount you require. Here is my card. Please contact me this evening with your compensation requirements should you agree to the terms. If he agrees to the figure, I will courier a contract to you. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them now and I will answer what I can.”

“I don’t really know where to start,” Nysa stammered. “I guess the first thing I would like to know is whether or not I’ll be doing anything illegal.”

“Absolutely not, Dr. Knight. The project you will be working on will not violate any existing laws. The secrecy surrounding your task is due to the highly competitive nature of the field, nothing more.”

“What about if I have an emergency at home? How will I know if nobody knows where I am or how to contact me?”

“I’m sorry,” replied the young attorney, “that’s a risk you will have to take. Should you take the position, you will have no contact with the outside world, emergency or no.”

Nysa frowned at his answer. “You want me to accept a position I know nothing about, doing something you won’t tell me about, and do it without having any contact with any of my friends or family? What if my fiancé were hit by a car?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Knight, those are the rules. You can take them or leave them. The choice is yours. Do you have any other questions?”

Nysa’s thoughts swirled in her head, crashing into one another and taking her feelings in a brand new direction. She felt torn, unable to think clearly. Her gaze wandered around the restaurant, pausing briefly on one of the white wicker tables before bouncing to one of the many plants hanging from the ceiling and walls. In an attempt to organize her thoughts, she continued looking over the crowded restaurant. One patron was speaking tersely with her waiter and shoved her dish rudely back into his hands. A couple at a separate table stood and put on their jackets as they prepared to leave. Nysa watched as they made their way slowly back to the front of the dining room. She finally glanced back at the waiting lawyer. “No, nothing I can think of.”

“Thank you for your time. The bill has been paid; the car will wait outside to return you to your office. Goodbye, Dr. Knight.”

Mr. Stevens stood, shook her hand, and left the restaurant with the same purposeful stride as when he had approached her earlier.

She picked at the remainder of her lunch, pondering the proposition for a while, before getting up and leaving the restaurant. Nysa sat in the back of the car, her thoughts speeding past much like the trees that lined the side of the road. By the time the car arrived back at the university, Nysa had managed to work herself up to the point that she was quite literally worried sick. She went to her office and told her coworkers she wasn’t feeling well and that she was going home for the day. She walked back outside and called Alastair from her cell phone. This time he answered.

“Hey babe, how’s it going? I saw I missed your call earlier. Sorry, I stepped outside for a smoke. What’s up?”

She relayed the events of the last couple of hours to him. When she finished, she waited for his response.

“I don’t like the sound of this.”

“Of what?” she asked.

“Of any of it. There’s too much stuff they won’t tell you. What’s the big deal? I think you should get more answers out of them or tell them you won’t do it.”

She knew he was right, that it sounded a bit off, but at the same time, this could be big chance to prove herself. If this Mr. Scario was as wealthy as he seemed to be, he must have a pretty good reason for putting so much money on the line.

“I know it sounds strange, but this could be an incredible opportunity for me! And with the money from this, we might be able to buy a house. I think we should at least discuss it further. Maybe we can come up with a few more questions that Mr. Stevens will answer. If so, it might put some of our concerns at ease.”

“What’s to discuss? They want you to fly off to God knows where, to do God knows what, for God knows how long. What about us? We won’t even be able to talk to each other ‘til this thing is done. It’s not a long distance relationship; it’s no relationship! I want to spend the next year or two with you, Nysa, not sitting alone at the apartment wondering if you’re okay.”

“This could make my career and give us a chance to buy a house together. I know it will be hard while we’re apart, but think about how much better off we’ll be when I get back. We should at least consider it, Alastair.”

“I just don’t know. It doesn’t sound right to me,” said Alastair.

Nysa knew she’d won. “You just don’t like secrets. You never did,” she chided him. “You can’t even stand to wait for other people to open their presents at Christmas. Come on, let’s at least discuss it.”

“We’ll talk more when I get home. I’ve got some programs I have to patch up. We’ve had some trouble with hackers. I should be able to wrap up in a couple of hours. See you at home? We can talk about it then.”

“Absolutely, you’re the best.” Nysa blew kisses in the phone and hung up.

At dinner that night, they went through the details of what they knew, and what they didn’t. They knew Nysa was being recruited by an individual who didn’t want to call unnecessary attention to himself. They knew the project was somehow related to her field, cloning. They knew there was big money involved.

The list of what they didn’t know was much longer. They didn’t know who exactly was hiring her, what he was hiring her to do, where she was going, or when she’d be back, just to name a few.

“I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about Scario that seems familiar also,” Alastair admitted. “I don’t know where or why, but it feels like I’ve met him or heard his name somewhere before. It’s been driving me crazy.”

“I don’t know that we should eliminate this as an option if you don’t have something more concrete that that,” Nysa noted.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I just want to make sure everything is out on the table. I have a bad feeling about this guy, but I can’t tell you why.”

“Your sentiments regarding my potential future employer have been duly noted,” Nysa acknowledged, trying to sound lawyerly. “But let’s move on to the facts, shall we?”

Alastair rolled his eyes at her. They argued, questioned, and picked apart the details for what seemed like hours. They approached the issue from every angle they could think of, identified every problem they could imagine. Despite the mysteries and Alastair’s hesitation, by the time dinner was over they had decided that Nysa should go for it, provided the unknown man would be willing to pay her enough that they could buy their dream house. Their magic number, after much discussion, was $750,000 a year with a one-year minimum. It might not pay the whole mortgage, especially in the L.A. housing market, but it would put a pretty sizeable dent in it. Nysa picked up the phone and called Mr. Stevens with her answer.

He picked up on the first ring. “Good evening, Dr. Knight. Good news, I hope?”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Caller ID. How can I help you?”

Nysa hesitated. This was the big moment. Was she asking too much?

“I accept your offer on the condition that my compensation will be $750,000 per year, assuming roughly a one-year project.”

“Very good, Dr. Knight. Your condition is acceptable to Mr. Scario, and he has asked me to inform you he is willing to add an additional million-dollar bonus at the completion of the project, assuming of course we don’t have to replace you at any point. As to the year timeline, I have no guarantees on that. That is in your hands more than mine.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say? A million-dollar bonus?” Nysa was certain she had heard wrong.

“Yes. A one-million dollar bonus at the completion of the project. Like I said previously, you will be well compensated for your time and efforts. Thank you for your commitment, Dr. Knight. It’s my pleasure to be the first to welcome you aboard. I will be in contact with you shortly to discuss your transportation details and you should receive the contract via courier tomorrow evening. I think it would be imprudent to deliver it to your office, so you will receive it at home. Do you have any more questions?”

“No.”

“Thank you and good night.”

Nysa could barely breathe as she hung up the phone. She had been hesitant about asking for the $750,000, but the lawyer hadn’t even paused. How much had Mr. Scario authorized for her? And a million dollar bonus? They could buy a house outright, and a nice one at that. She was so thrilled she couldn’t contain her excitement. She jumped into Alastair’s arms and relayed the lawyer’s side of the conversation. The enthusiasm carried over into the bedroom that night leaving them both in a state of exhausted bliss. Their dreams were sweet and untroubled.

After all of the pain and ridicule I have suffered at the hands of Christians, it is finally time for them to reap what they sow. Having gained Valerian’s confidence early in his life, I have been able to mold him to my will and now hold great influence over his actions and thoughts. I will use his hand as an instrument of my revenge; for they are the reason I must remain forever hidden. Both my name and my past must be forever buried and forgotten.

January 6

Alastair crawled out of bed. After making his way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, with a quick pit-stop at the bathroom, he picked up the phone to call his father, but the line was busy. Sitting down on the couch, Alastair’s mind drifted back to his youth.

Alastair was born the son of a Baptist preacher. During his formative years he spent his afternoons in his father’s study helping put together sermons. Rather than memories of playing outside with his friends riding bikes and playing baseball, Alastair recalled afternoons spent studying Genesis. His father had not been overly strict with him, but Alastair knew that his father’s rules were firm and unbending.

The lack of friends early in life created difficulties in acquiring new ones as he got older, and by the time Alastair graduated high school, second in his class of 104, he had very few friends and little ability to interact with his peers. He merely went to school, came home and finished his homework, and went off to his after-school job as a busboy at a local restaurant. When he was finished there, he went home and to bed to begin yet another day of school, studies, and work.

There was one variation in the routine of his young life. Once a year, on the anniversary of the death of his mother and younger brother, he would spend the day at the cemetery grieving their loss and telling them about his life. Despite the doctor’s warnings of the danger of childbirth for his mother, after Alastair’s birth his parents had decided to leave the potential for another child in the hands of God. His mother had become pregnant again about the time Alastair turned three, but this time it hadn’t turned out as it had the first time. Mother and baby both died during childbirth.

Alastair’s first memories were of his mother’s and brother’s funerals. He’d gone to the cemetery every year since, in the beginning with his father, but later alone. He harbored a hidden resentment at his dad’s abandonment of the annual pilgrimage to the Grapeland City Cemetery. He couldn’t explain why he felt the way he did; he only knew that it seemed like his father no longer cared, that he no longer found it necessary to spend an hour or two out of the year to remember and acknowledge his love for his wife and child.

Following high school, Alastair’s father was not as successful in his quest to keep him walking on the straight and narrow. At USC, Alastair had signed up to play rugby. He wasn’t great, but he was in good shape and could hold his own. It had taken him a few games to get a decent grasp of the rules—not only had Alastair never played the game, but he’d never even seen it on television. As he hung out with the guys on the rugby team, a few of them started taking him to fraternity parties.

It wasn’t long before he pledged and was initiated into the Pi Kappa Alpha house and began making up for all those early years of little socialization. He maintained decent grades, but he partied nonstop. If there wasn’t a function at the house, he was down at the local bar getting liquored up and starting fights. And while most people tone down the drinking when they graduate, he kept going.

Alastair and his father had had a falling out due to Alastair’s alcoholism soon after he left college. At the time they had been living together in a small house out in the country. It had been tiny actually, but enough for the two of them. Although he had been plastered at the time, Alastair could clearly remember the altercation. Coming home from the bars smashed, he’d crashed his car into the garage door before stumbling in through the front door and encountering his father. Irate at having to clean up after Alastair yet again, his father had begun screaming at him to grow up.

“You’re not in college anymore, Alastair. When are you going to realize that? When are you going to stop behaving like an immature fraternity boy and start behaving like a man? I didn’t raise you to live like this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all, Carl. You were never a father to me. You never let me be a kid. Ever since Mom died, all I’ve been is someone to help do the chores and help with the sermons. Leave me alone.” Alastair had tried to stumble past his father to go throw up and pass out. His father had grabbed him and thrown him back against the front door.

“Don’t you ever speak of your mother when you’re in this condition. She would be ashamed of what you’ve become.”

“Well, Carl, she’s dead,” Alastair had replied coldly. “Thanks to you, she died twenty years ago.”

“Shut your mouth, Alastair. I’m warning you.”

“You knew she could die if she had another baby. They told you when I was born that she shouldn’t have any more children.” He had been yelling by that point. “You decided to leave it in God’s hands. Where did that lead? Straight to the cemetery. You killed her. You might not have pulled the trigger, but you loaded the gun. I’ll never forgive you.”

His father had hit him. It would be the first and only time his father ever struck him. The force of the blow had slammed his head back into the door behind him, and he’d crumpled to the floor holding his face. Blood had poured freely through his hands and down his flannel shirt. When the stars in his vision had finally cleared, Alastair had looked up at his father.

“You’ll be gone tomorrow. You are no longer welcome in this house. God forgive me for what I’ve done.” Carl had turned and walked back to his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. Alastair was already gone before his father awoke the next morning. He had left behind a torn-apart room, a demolished garage door, and a small stain of dried blood by the front door.

Years later, after Alastair got sober, they made amends to each other and tried to repair the damage that had been done that night. They were still far from being nominated for father and son of the year, but they spoke on a semi-regular basis and were getting more comfortable with each other as time healed some of the wounds opened during Alastair’s fifteen-year drinking binge.

Alastair had also had a brief career in computer hacking, mostly during his college days, but also off and on in the years that followed. He knew he was fortunate he had never been caught by the authorities. He hadn’t hacked into FBI files or anything of that nature, but he hadn’t exactly limited his computer crimes to reading his roommate’s e-mail. He’d finally managed to change his focus to protecting information and, as a result, he was in a career at a prominent software company called SecTech that he was proud of—and it was legal. What a bonus.

Alastair pulled his mind back to the present as he turned into the parking structure at his office building, parked, and headed to the elevators. After logging onto his computer, he tried his father again just to catch up.

“Hello?” Alastair heard on the other end of the line.

“Dad! How are you this morning?”

“Well, well, good morning to you Alastair. I’m doing alright. What’s new in your neck of the woods?”

Alastair gave his father a brief uncomplicated version of the offer that Nysa was pursuing.

“That sounds fantastic. Tell her congratulations from me when you see her.”

“Will do, Dad. Anything exciting on your end?” His father updated him on the “Epistle of Jude” and the beginning of “Revelations,” despite Alastair’s objections that he was at work and didn’t have time for Bible study. He’d finally had to interrupt. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work, Dad. They don’t pay me to spend my day chatting on the phone. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“All right, all right. Give that lovely fiancé of yours a kiss for me. Bye-bye.”

After getting off the phone with his father, he went downstairs for a couple of cigarettes. When he was finished, he went back upstairs to his desk to try and finish his work early so he could get home. It was Friday, after all, and he wanted to find something to do with Nysa before she left on her mystery project. He picked up the paper when he got home and flipped through it to find the movie that he wanted to see, a special re-release of Apocalypse Now. After the movie and dinner they walked across the street to Diddy Riese Cookies for the best ice cream sandwiches in town. They strolled back to the car, hand in hand, enjoying the cool night air. Alastair opened Nysa’s door for her and then walked around the car and climbed in himself. As they pulled out of the parking garage, he put his hand on her thigh.

“Are you getting nervous yet?” he asked.

Nysa shook her head. “Not about the job, I’m confident I can do my job well.”

“What are you nervous about?”

“Us,” she replied and turned to look out her window.

“What about us?” he asked, scared of what she might say. She turned back to look at him and there were tears in her eyes.

“I’m afraid you’ll find someone else while I’m gone. This job—the money—won’t mean anything if you’re not here when I get back. I don’t want to … to lose you.” The last sentence was barely a whisper.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, hon. I’ll always be here for you. Besides, even if I wanted to find someone else, who wants to date a thirty-five-year-old alcoholic computer geek? You’re one of a kind and I love you. I’ll be here no matter how long the project takes.” He gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze.

Nysa smiled. “Thanks, I love you, too.” She put her hand over his and leaned back in her seat.

When they got home they climbed into bed and held each other. There was sexual energy in the air, but Alastair felt an intense closeness just lying with her, hopeful for what was to come. He fell asleep after a short while, but rest didn’t come easy. In his dreams, they were stuck in the movie they had seen that evening and even knowing what was coming, he were helpless to change it. By morning the sheets would be scattered and dampened with sweat.

It is time to move once again, and just as I started to get settled. Gallaecia is a very beautiful land where I had been able to establish my home while at the same time retain my anonymity. However, current difficulties with the Muslims force me to relocate my property. While I carry no animosity toward their people, I don’t believe they will tolerate my presence here should they succeed in their desire to control these lands.

January 7

After showering to get the sweat off, Nysa felt almost human. She grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot Alastair had brewed and went to the study to check her e-mail. Having discarded her pajamas in the hamper prior to her shower, Nysa now wore a worn out t-shirt of Alastair’s and some boy shorts. She tiptoed into the small office to avoid disturbing Alastair, plopped herself down in the computer chair, carefully set her now-sloshing coffee on the desk, and logged on. She reached for her coffee while waiting for her e-mail to load, bumping it with the side of her hand and sloshing some of it over the side and onto the desk. “Crap,” she murmured to herself, grabbing a nearby tissue box and mopping up the mess. By the time she finished cleaning up the coffee, her e-mail was ready. Her first message contained what she both wanted and dreaded: her itinerary.

“Dr Knight,

At 9:00 AM on the thirtieth, a car will arrive to transport you on the first leg of your trip to the project facility. Please be ready to depart at the appointed time. There will be a quick reception the evening of your arrival, and the following day you will be allowed to tour the grounds and meet your colleagues. The project, as predicted, will begin at 8:00 AM on February first. I look forward to our next meeting.

Sincerely,

Gary Stevens, J.D.”

Nysa read and reread the message, sipping gently from her coffee cup as her hand was trembling with excitement. Although she still didn’t know the exact nature of her employment, the anticipation of being involved in such a secretive task was making her stomach jump and tumble like a gymnast in the Olympics. When she’d finally gone over the e-mail at least ten times, she switched off the computer and got up to begin her day.

January 9

Nysa completed her morning routine, walked to her supervisor’s office, and softly knocked on the door. From within, she could hear Dr. Judith Larson tapping away on her keyboard.

“Come in,” she called.

Nysa opened the door, stepped into the office, and gently closed the door behind her.

Dr. Larson stopped typing and looked up at Nysa. Her salt and pepper hair was held up in a tidy bun on the back of her head and she was, as always, wearing a lab coat over a stark white blouse and black pants. There was speculation in the office about whether she owned only one outfit or had an entire closet of white shirts and black pants. The aging process had been gentle on her with only the faintest of wrinkles beginning to show.

“I need to speak to you privately. Do you have a few minutes?” Nysa fidgeted with her hands

“Of course, what’s on your mind Nysa?” Dr. Larson replied as she pushed back from her overly tidy desk and turned to face Nysa.

Nysa blurted out, “I just wanted to let you know I will be resigning effective January twenty-seventh. I’ve been offered another opportunity and have accepted it. I want to let you know I’ve really enjoyed working with you and appreciate your guidance. I’ll have a formal letter for you by the end of the day.”

Dr. Larson leaned forward in her chair and folded her hands on her desk. “Well, I must say we will be sorry to see you go. You’ve contributed so much to our department. Is there any way I can convince you to stay?”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve already made my decision.” Nysa told herself not to feel guilty, but Judith had always played an important role in her education and career. They had first met when Nysa was still in school, taking a course in Integrative and Comparative Physiology. They had stayed in touch, and upon graduation Nysa had been hired by UCLA as a result of the glowing letter of recommendation written by her former professor. Now Nysa would be going out on her own, making her own way.

“Whoever takes over my research shouldn’t have any problems. If you go into my desk you will find all of my notes typed, labeled, and filed. Thank you again for everything. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t have made it this far without your help.”

Dr. Larson nodded her understanding. “Thank you for your hard work, Nysa, and good luck. If you ever need anything, feel free to call. You’re not off my Christmas list just because you no longer work for me.” Dr. Larson smiled and extended her hand.

Nysa shook hands with her mentor and turned to leave the office.

“And Nysa,” Dr. Larson continued. Nysa stopped and turned to face her boss. “Don’t kid yourself. You’d be a great research scientist even without my influence. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Nysa smiled, thanked her mentor, and left the office.

“Well,” she thought, “it’s official now. No going back.”

Although anxious, excitement overwhelmed her and the rest of the day passed in a blur of test tubes, micro-pipettes, Petri dishes, and calcium chelating agents.

I traveled with Gottschalk and the German army north along the Rhine in a quest to relieve my boredom and increase my fortune. I am traveling with roughly 10,000 troops in an effort to purge our homeland of Jews. Cologne fell fairly easily and I was able to acquire quite a bit of property in the process. How ironic that the Jews are being slaughtered for their role in the crucifixion and here I am profiting from it.

January 10-29

The next few weeks were spent preparing for Nysa’s departure. Nysa and Alastair spent as much time together as they could afford, opting out of all dinner invitations, couples nights, and parties. They didn’t make big plans, deciding instead to spend their time inside together, laughing playing games, making love. A couple of times they went out to catch a flick and dinner, and they made a trip to the aquarium, but for the most part they spent their time naked in the apartment ordering in. She used some of her free time to secretly write little letters to Alastair. It was going to be a surprise for him, so she would sneak into the study while he was napping or in the shower. She put each note in an envelope and sealed it. On the outside she put a date for the letter to be opened. She wanted to make sure Alastair didn’t forget her while she was gone, and she hoped that a little love note to read every week or two would help make sure it didn’t happen. She also used the digital camera and the remote to take some pictures of herself for him to enjoy in her absence.

She put all the letters and the memory card in a shoe box, gift wrapped it, and hid it under the bed.

January 30

She was packed for her trip, but not ready to go. She wanted more time with Alastair, who’d taken the day off of work to see her off. How was she going to get through this project without seeing him, or at least speaking to him? She went to the bedroom and retrieved her gift for him. While in the bedroom, the doorbell rang. She rushed back into the living room as Alastair answered it. The man at the door was in his early to mid-twenties and, oddly, dressed in a tuxedo. Nysa glanced past him to the car at the curb and was shocked to see a beautiful white 1951 Rolls Royce. It was immaculate—not so much as a single particle of dust could be seen on the entire car. Alastair turned back toward the apartment.

“Hon, your ride is here.”

She made her way through the living room toward the front door. As she passed the coffee table, she set down the box and walked to Alastair.

“There’s a little something for you for when I’m gone.” She nodded toward the box. She couldn’t look at him. Her throat felt tight, her eyes brimming with tears. Alastair took her in his arms.

“I’ll be right here when you get back, Nysa, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” He pulled her close. She felt his heart hammering in his chest and smelled the faint odor of his shampoo intermingled with the stronger scent of his cologne. She closed her eyes and tried to etch this moment into her mind. She wanted to be able to come back to this memory frequently while she was gone, to feel him in her arms. After a moment she pulled back, leaned up, and gave him a kiss.

“Don’t forget me, okay? I love you more than you know.”

“I won’t,” replied Alastair. “I love you, too, and I do know.”

He kissed her again. When they finished, Alastair picked up her bag and opened the front door. They followed the driver down to the car where he opened the door for Nysa. She and Alastair shared one last hug and kiss before saying goodbye. Nysa climbed in, the driver closed the door, took her bag from Alastair, and placed her bag on the front passenger seat before walking around the car and climbing in himself. Alastair watched the car drive slowly down the street and disappear around the corner.

Nysa’s trip was uneventful. She struggled to keep her composure; she didn’t want to seem weak in front of anyone she didn’t know. The car took her to the Santa Monica Airport where she was driven straight out onto the tarmac. Nysa thought it strange as she’d always had to go through the security and boarding process on every other flight she had ever taken. Instead she was driven up to the foot of a set of stairs that led up to an impressive-looking private jet. Nysa stepped from the car and made her way up to the cabin while the driver took her bag back to the cargo hold.

It took a while for Nysa’s eyes to adjust to the dim light after stepping in from the bright afternoon sun. The cabin was incredible. All of the woodwork appeared to be actual cherry. The chairs were so big they looked like La-Z-Boys. The soft lighting and taupe coloring of the seats gave the cabin a very comfortable and relaxing feel. Already onboard were two other passengers, Mr. Stevens and an older gentleman sitting in a chair across the aisle from him. Dressed in a suit that had to date back to at least the early eighties, and with a stoic look on his face, he reminded Nysa of a history professor she’d had in college. As walked down the aisle both stood. Mr. Stevens greeted and introduced her.

“Dr. Knight, welcome aboard. This is Dr. Shannon Leyden. Dr. Leyden, Dr. Knight. You two will be working closely together on this project. Dr. Leyden specializes in the reconstruction of fragmented DNA; Dr. Knight specializes in the extraction of said DNA from difficult samples. As I’m sure you two have speculated, we will be cloning something very unique. Dr. Knight, may I get you a drink?”

“Yes, please,” Nysa replied. “What do you have?”

“Whatever you would like, Dr. Knight. We have a fully stocked bar on board.”

“A vodka and cranberry, please,” Nysa replied politely.

Mr. Stevens walked the short distance to the bar, poured her a drink, and brought it back to her. He handed it to her as she continued standing, awestruck with the beauty of the aircraft. It didn’t surprise her that the glass in her hand appeared to be made of crystal and was of an elegantly intricate design. She took a small sip and continued to survey the cabin.

Mr. Stevens made his way back toward the front of the plane. “If there is anything else either of you would like during the trip, please let me know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll let the pilot know we are ready to depart.” The lawyer disappeared into the cockpit.

Nysa took an empty seat and buckled herself in. Mr. Stevens returned to his seat and sat down, behind Nysa and across from Dr. Leyden. During the flight, Nysa turned her seat around, and she and Mr. Stevens made small talk. Dr. Leyden was aloof, keeping mostly to himself. They all avoided the issue of the project, an unspoken understanding that the questions that could be answered would be addressed tomorrow.

Nysa’s insides were in complete turmoil as she contemplated the task ahead of her. Would she be able to do the tasks assigned to her? Would the project be a success? What would become of her afterward? Would Alastair still be waiting for her? She fidgeted and squirmed in her seat as she pondered these questions. While not wanting to get smashed before her arrival at the facility, Nysa allowed herself two more drinks in an attempt to relax.

The flight and landing were smooth, and the plane was met by a town car at the Colorado Springs Airport. The luggage was moved from the Cessna and the three of them climbed into the car, Mr. Stevens taking the passenger seat.

They drove in silence, heading north toward Denver on I-25. Every now and then, Nysa would steal a glance over at Dr. Leyden. He appeared to be deeply engrossed in his study of the back of the driver’s head. A tall lanky man, he had to be uncomfortable with his long legs pressed into the back of the driver’s seat. If he was, he gave no indication of it. The only time he ever moved was to slick back his short grey hair or to smooth his goatee.

Nysa found the landscape breathtaking. Coming from Los Angeles, she had grown accustomed to graffiti and trash as the primary sights on her drives around the city. Out here it was completely absent. It had recently snowed and the peaks of the Rockies glistened as the afternoon sun glided slowly toward their summits. She sat and stared as they drove past the rolling hills and small towns of Colorado. They were quaint and cute, apparently untouched by the evils of big-city life.

Another thing that amazed her was the lack of traffic at this hour. Had they been on the 405, they would never have gotten above thirty, but they rolled along at a steady seventy-five miles per hour. They exited just south of Denver, Exit 191 according to the freeway sign, and headed west toward the Rockies. Odd, Nysa thought, that an off-ramp wouldn’t have a name, merely a number. They drove slowly through the rising and falling landscape until finally turning down a secluded road. After some time, Nysa realized that she hadn’t seen one house or business since turning off the main street. She tried to catch a glimpse of some sign of human life through the increasingly thick pine trees. Finally Nysa gave up her search.

Eventually they passed through a checkpoint and arrived at what appeared to be a Bed and Breakfast. The outside was weathered, worn, and completely ordinary in appearance. Inside was state of the art. The lobby was so clean Nysa thought surgery would be safe in there. It was a lab in and of itself, organized, minimalized, and as efficient as possible. There were no islands with vases of flowers, no small tree tucked into the corner—merely an open space with spotless white tile floors. The ceiling was painted in the same overwhelming white, giving the room a very sterile feeling.

The driver brought in their bags and disappeared through a doorway to Nysa’s right accompanied by Mr. Stevens. Straight ahead, a small, stern-looking woman behind a counter beckoned her. She stood about five and a half feet, with a medium-build, and sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun. She wore no make-up that Nysa could see, and her business suit looked like it had just come back from the dry cleaners, heavy on the starch. Nysa and Dr. Leyden proceeded across the small lobby to the counter.

“Dr. Knight, Dr. Leyden, thank you for joining us and welcome. My name is Bekki, and I am here to assist you in any non-project related matters. If you want a movie to watch in your room, you see me. If you want a book, you see me. Jackets, blankets, video games, shoes, whatever it is, you see me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” they replied in unison. Nysa fought the urge to salute and click her heels.

“Very good,” Bekki continued. “Dr. Knight, you will be in room 158; here is your key. Please take the elevator to your left to level B-15 and follow the signs to your room.” Bekki turned to Dr. Leyden.

“Excuse me, miss?” stammered Nysa. “Where did my bag go? And this place is only two stories, not fifteen.”

“Your bag will be in your room when you get there. It was taken through security to ensure no mobile phones, laptops, or other forbidden devices were being brought onto the premises. Your room is on level B-15, down, not up. Is there anything else?”

“No. Thank you.”

Fifteen floors down? “Wow, don’t judge a book by its cover,” Nysa muttered as she made her way to the elevator. She entered the elevator and pushed B-15. Nothing happened. An automated voice came over the speaker instructing her to insert her room key into the slot and press her desired floor. After doing so, the elevator began its slow descent, announcing its arrival with a pronounced ding. She stepped off the elevator and had no difficulty locating her room as there was only one other on the floor; hers was left and the other right.

“Wow,” she whispered upon entering her room. She entered a living room roughly the size of her apartment in Venice. In contrast to the lobby, the finest pieces furnished her room. In the middle of the room and surrounded by matching coffee and end tables was a luxurious couch that she hesitated to sit on. Across from the couch, to her left, was an enormous plasma screen television.

She turned to the right and walked through a set of double doors to her bedroom. Her bed looked more comfortable than a cloud and sat facing an ornate entertainment center holding yet another massive television.

The bathroom, while having a traditional door, also had a large opening that could be closed off with shutters should someone desire privacy. Through the opening, Nysa saw the bathtub. It pulled at her like a siren calling a sailor. After a long day of travel, she desperately needed to relax. Although it was only four o’clock in the afternoon, she was exhausted. She turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, and plugged the tub.

As she surveyed the room, she noticed a large bath kit behind the bathroom door. In it were bath oils, salts and bubbles. She selected lavender-scented oil, added it to the tub and returned to the bedroom to undress. She noticed her bag placed neatly on her bed, a letter on her pillow with her name typed across the front and, oddly enough, what appeared to be a window on the far wall. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was another television designed to look like a window, playing a steady image of an open field. The tall grass swayed in the breeze, the lone oak tree dropping an occasional leaf. Even the faintest chirping of birds could be heard.

Nysa thought this decorative touch to be a bit eccentric, but on the other hand, if she were going to be in this room for the remainder of the project, it would be nice to have the illusion of an outside world. Going up and down the elevator all the time just to see outside would get a bit tiresome. She undressed quickly, grabbed the letter off of her pillow, and headed back to the bathroom. She turned off the water and slowly stepped in, savoring the feel of the hot water as she lowered herself into the steaming tub. She then opened the letter and read:

“Dr. Knight,

Welcome to your temporary home. If you find anything lacking, please contact Bekki using the various intercom systems located throughout your rooms. Just dial #6. She is available 24 hours a day for anything you might want or need. Please make yourself at home. Dinner will be served this evening at 6:00. Please join everyone for an introductory meeting and cocktail hour on level B-2. It will be your first chance to meet and introduce yourself to your new colleagues before beginning the project Monday morning. I look forward to seeing what you are capable of. Again, welcome.

Sincerely,

Mr. Scario”

She refolded the letter, placed it on the side of the tub, and slouched down into the warm and fragrant water. Along with her skin’s natural oils, the day’s stress seemed to ooze from her pores. Nysa stayed in for as long as she dared without risking prune-like fingers. The last thing she wanted to do was meet her new coworkers and give them a raisiny handshake. She drained the tub and rinsed off before climbing out and drying off.

After putting on a new white blouse and pair of black slacks, Nysa finished her preparations for the evening. Looking at herself in the mirror, Nysa had to smile as she realized how closely her own wardrobe of black slacks and white blouses resembled that of her old boss, Dr Larson. She’d have to remember to talk to Bekki about expanding her clothing options. When she was finished with her hair and makeup, Nysa left her room and headed to the elevator.

As she waited for the elevator to arrive, the door at the other end of the hall opened. Out walked an attractive young woman with long, brown hair. Nysa guessed she was in her mid-twenties. She had a bit of a Mediterranean look to her. She was wearing a beautiful black dress that showed off her slender figure. Even the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway could not deface her perfect olive skin. The woman made her way gracefully down the hallway to where Nysa stood.

“Good evening. How are you?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Well, thank you,” answered Nysa, “and you?”

“Can’t complain. I’m Jacqueline. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you.” Nysa shook her hand. “I’m Nysa.”

A jarring ding announced the arrival of the elevator. As the elevator doors closed behind them, Nysa pushed the button for level B-2.

“So, where are you from?” Nysa asked.

“Just north of Philadelphia, a small town that’s the home of the Andrettis, if you’re a racing fan. That’s about our only claim to fame. How about you?”

“Venice, California, home of Venice Beach and probably half of the homeless and gang populations of Los Angeles. Beautiful place, really.”

Jacqueline smirked.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again,” Nysa said as the elevator came to a stop. She turned to Jacqueline and smiled. Grabbing and shaking her hand once more, Nysa asked, “Since we live right down the hall from one another, what do you say we grab some breakfast tomorrow? Six-thirty work for you?”

Jacqueline gave a shy smile and nodded.

“Great,” Nysa exclaimed. “See you tomorrow morning then.” She stepped out into the banquet hall.

Nysa did a quick scan of the room and, as expected, recognized only Dr. Leyden standing close by, leaning against the wall, avoiding the crowds. He nodded in her direction, acknowledging her, and continued brooding. Small groups had formed around the room as doctors and lab assistants who knew one another, whether personally or by reputation, met up or introduced themselves. A bar was set up across from the elevator, the dining area and lounge opening up to her left.

Jacqueline brushed past her and headed straight to the bar. Nysa wandered through the room. Each of the places at the tables had a small card with a name. She searched the room until she found her seat. She then meandered to the bar where a small line had formed. She made small talk with a lab technician from Arizona. She finally arrived at the front of the line and politely ordered a vodka and cranberry.

“Very good,” the bartender replied dryly, grabbing the necessary bottles.

Nysa had the distinct impression that the bartender was having a rough evening having to deal with the enormous egos of some of the world’s best doctors. She dug into her purse and dropped a ten on the bar. Not a life-changing amount by any means, but certainly a gesture of appreciation. The bartender gave her a warm smile and thanked her.

Mr. Stevens entered the room and proceed to a podium placed on the small stage at the back of the room. Dressed in a black, three-piece, pin-striped suit, Nysa could see the shine on his shoes from where she stood. He stood, confident and still, waiting for the conversations to die down. When the last person fell silent, Mr. Stevens began.

“Welcome, everyone, to Mr. Scario’s private laboratories. Each of you was selected for very specific reasons—some for being a leader in your field, some to do the legwork, some for other miscellaneous tasks.” Mr. Stevens strode to the front of the stage and gazed at the audience. “You all have one thing in common: you are exemplary workers. Mr. Scario expects nothing less.” Quick glances were exchanged among those nearest him. Mr. Stevens continued. “When you retire to your rooms this evening, you will find a letter advising you of the location of your work area. Your room key will also access the appropriate floor of your laboratory. Tomorrow at 8:00 A.M. please be there for a tour of your work area and to request any additional equipment that you may need. The specifics of your task will be given to you when you arrive at your laboratory. I’m sorry I don’t have any time to answer questions this evening. I’ll be available tomorrow to answer what I can. Thank you for your time and enjoy your evening.”

He left the stage and exited out the door through which he had entered.

The Great Mortality continues its destruction. I have taken to plundering the homes of the dead as it’s easily done. Nobody else will go inside so I can take what I want without consequences. I fear I have become the man everyone believed me to be. Although I know my actions are wrong, I no longer care. What punishment can be worse than this curse I continue to live with? Is there no end?

January 31, 7:55 AM

Nysa’s main lab was on Level B-6, Room 1. The room was enormous, but situated in such a way that minimized the amount of walking that would be necessary going back and forth between machines and desks. She didn’t expect to need any additional equipment, as the room seemed to contain everything, even some machines she couldn’t yet identify. She made her way through the various work desks, centrifuge machines, PCR machines, and supply cabinets, running her hand over the spotless counters and equipment, pausing occasionally to inspect something.

There were three other individuals in the room. She recognized Dr. Leyden, who was fiddling with one of the PCR machines. Two younger women were standing at one end of the work desks speaking softly to one another. At precisely 8:00 A.M., Mr. Stevens entered the lab and approached Nysa.

“Dr. Knight, a pleasure to see you again. Welcome to your main lab. Levels B-5 through B-10 of this facility are all laboratories. As the project lead, you are in charge of all of them, but you will be spending most of your time here.” He made a sweeping gesture to the massive room. “You have oversight responsibility in all areas of this project, but your primary duty will be the extraction of the DNA we will be using for this task. Tomorrow morning you will be provided with some samples containing blood and hair.” Mr. Stevens paced continuously among the workstations as he spoke. “The reason you were selected for this assignment is that Mr. Scario believes you to be one of only a handful of people who will be able to retrieve the sufficient amount of DNA necessary for the reassembly of the fragmented DNA and subsequent replication. This is the most crucial part of the whole process. If you are unsuccessful in your task, the DNA we are attempting to obtain and restore will be lost forever. Do you have any questions for me at this point in time?” as he finally came to a stop near the elevators.

“Plenty,” Nysa stammered, “but first let me meet the rest of the team, settle myself in, and then if I still have questions I track you down. Agreed?”

“Very well. Good luck, Dr. Knight.” Mr. Stevens turned and left the room. Nysa stood for a moment watching him go. She had been momentarily overwhelmed at the enormity of her task and especially at his statement that the DNA would be lost forever should she make a mistake. She fought off the panic building in her chest.

Nysa meandered slowly through the lab, eyes shifting back and forth trying to take it all in. She checked the supply cabinets to ensure the proper equipment, enzymes, and chemicals were available to her. Of course, they were. She eventually arrived at the desk where the young women eyed her intently.

“Good morning,” Nysa said, shaking hands with each of them. “I’m Nysa Knight.”

“I knew it was you,” replied the shorter of the two. “She wasn’t sure, but I knew as soon as I saw you. I’m Mary Alice and this is Laura. We’re your assistants. We’ve got quite a broad range of experience between the two of us, so we’ll be able to help you with just about anything you might need. You name it and I’m sure one of us will be able to lend a hand.”

Laura interrupted. “Mary Alice and I studied together at Yale. We were just discussing the advances you made in the field. I must say it’s refreshing to see a woman making breakthroughs. And not to sound like a brown-noser,” Laura shifted her weight and blushed, “but you are an inspiration to those of us trying to be taken seriously in this field.”

“Thank you, I’m flattered. Hopefully when this project succeeds, you will have made names for yourselves as well. If this experiment is as revolutionary as it is secretive, I’m sure we all will have our pick of jobs. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mary Alice, and I look forward to working with you. You, too, Laura.” Nysa smiled at each of them and continued her review of the facility.

She arrived at the PCR machine, a device used in the replication of DNA fragments. Dr. Leyden was still tinkering with the machine. “Good morning,” she greeted him.

“Any new details on what exactly we are doing here?” he inquired.

“Nothing more than we already knew. We’re cloning something. According to Mr. Stevens, I’ll be getting some samples with blood and hair tomorrow morning. Once I extract the DNA we need, I guess we’ll know a bit more. At least we’ll be able to narrow it down to human or animal. Have you heard anything?”

“Nothing concrete, but with this much expertise floating around, and all the secrecy, I don’t think we’ll be cloning his dog. If I were a gambling man, I would put my money on an extinct species, but probably a human,” he replied while continuing to examine the equipment. He made minor adjustments to the machine and then spun his chair around to look at her. Smoothing his hair back he continued. “It’s the only explanation for why we’re all here under the conditions that have been set.”

She was shocked into silence. Nysa had formulated her own speculations about their work, but to hear it verbalized so bluntly took her off-guard.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” she stammered and walked away.

Nysa spent the rest of the morning visiting the other levels of the building, inspecting the equipment, and introducing herself to the other doctors and assistants on the various floors. Dr. Leyden had been right when he said there was a lot of expertise here. Of the doctors she had met that morning, she had recognized almost all of them as leaders in cloning-related fields. Dr. David Eisenhauer and his wife, Alice, for example, had almost single-handedly perfected the nuclear transfer technique used in the cloning process. When there was a question in the scientific community related to this process, these two were the ones you went to.

Dr. Stephen Phipps, while recognized as very knowledgeable in his field, was avoided by most other doctors. He had developed a reputation for thinking a little too far outside the box. Some of his most recent publications were outlandish at best, in most of the medical community’s opinions, and were published more due to respect for his previous work than for his current contributions. Still, he was one of the best when it came to the identification of, care for, and implantation of viable embryos. He had spent most of his career researching various fertility treatments.

The complex itself was amazing. After a brief tour she’d already discovered the medical facility on level B-4, a fully loaded day spa on B-3, and three restaurants, a cafeteria, and a bar on level 2. She found out upon her arrival on the second floor that the three restaurants were of different ethnic origins. Maybe this place won’t be so bad after all, she thought. Nysa strolled to the cafeteria, grabbed a sandwich, bag of chips, and a Diet Coke and went back downstairs to the lobby. She stepped out of the elevator and walked to the front desk where Bekki stood patiently.

“Is there a place outside where I can sit and eat lunch? A picnic bench or table of some sort? It’s such a beautiful day, and I’d hate to spend all of it inside.”

“Absolutely,” Bekki replied. “As you exit the front doors, walk out about one hundred yards following the driveway. When you get to the dead tree—don’t worry, you’ll know it when you see it—turn about forty-five degrees to your left and there is a nice picnic table under a tree about another one hundred and fifty to two hundred yards down. It’s very relaxing. There is a creek that runs close by so you can hear the water. Just don’t cross the creek. It’s the border of the grounds, and you don’t want to get yelled at by the guards. Have a nice lunch, and I’ll see you when you get back.” Bekki sat down and started working on her computer.

The grounds were amazing. As she made her way down the driveway, Nysa basked in the afternoon sun. She passed the small trees that had started to grow on either side of the road and gradually came to a small path off to her left. Sure enough, there was a distinctly dead tree right where the path and driveway met. She turned down the path, entering the shadows of the older, more mature pines. She found the picnic area easily enough and sat down to eat her lunch.

The sound of the water rushing and tumbling down the creek bed was soothing. The warm sunlight breaking through the dense trees in small lasers of frolicking light caressed the back of her neck and shoulders. The smell of pine was fresh in the air. Best of all was the lack of the normal honking, revving, and screeching brake sounds she was used to. With the exception of the splashing water in the stream, the breeze dancing through the leaves and the occasional birdsong, there wasn’t any background noise to speak of.

She relaxed and ate her tuna fish sandwich, letting the sounds surround her and allowing the sunlight to drain away the stress of the morning. The sandwich was surprisingly good, considering she had bought it in the cafeteria. The chips, Flaming Hot Cheetos, were outstanding as always. When she finished eating, she sipped her Diet Coke and watched the leaves drift down from their homes high in the trees. Her mind drifted back to a day much like this one when she’d been able to spend the afternoon lying back in Alastair’s arms on a small blanket. They’d had a picnic in the woods and then spread a bedspread and had spent their day kissing and teasing one another.

The peace of the moment was broken when she heard a branch break on the other side of the brook. Nysa, startled, snapped her head in his direction, attempting to locate the source of the sound. She had trouble spotting the intruder but was able to pinpoint the location when he finally spoke.

“Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to scare you. I hope you’re enjoying your lunch. It’ll be a while before we have weather this nice again, I can tell you that. It’s pretty rare to have such a temperate day this early in the year. Good day now.” And the guard continued on his way to whatever destination he had in mind.

Nysa watched him go, thinking it strange that guards patrolled the grounds. Of course, if they really were cloning an extinct animal, she could understand how Mr. Scario wouldn’t want any outside observers. She had, after all, seen Jurassic Park. She didn’t really believe they would be cloning a dinosaur, as the facilities didn’t have that much security. The guard had been carrying a rifle, but Nysa figured it was more of a defense against animals on the outside than any animals being made on the inside. They were in the middle of nowhere as far as she could tell, and bears and mountain lions must roam through this area from time to time. On that note, Nysa finished her soda, gathered her trash, and started back to the labs.

She was making her way slowly up the path when she heard a tremendous cracking sound above her. She looked up and saw one of the large branches overhanging the path breaking loose from the tree. She dashed forward in an attempt to get out from under it. Her blouse and lab-coat did little to protect her from the falling branch. As she leapt ahead, various twigs and limbs caught her shirt, gouging into her skin and stopping her forward momentum, causing her to then stumble backward into even more of the branches. As the tree limb settled, it pulled, poked, and scraped her, finally dragging her to the ground.

The guard reappeared. “Are you okay?” he asked as he approached her. “What happened?”

Nysa was trying to get back into an upright position but was having difficulty pulling free of the twigs. She was vaguely aware of the pain in her back but was focused on getting out from under the tree branch. The guard stepped forward and helped her to her feet. She saw his face contort as he glanced down at her back.

“Looks like you might need to go to the medical facilities,” he stated. “I’m no doctor, but a few of those gashes might need some stitches.”

They trudged back up to the laboratory, the young guard supporting her as the adrenaline in her system began to subside and the pain in her back became more and more pronounced. By the time they reached the medical floor the sentry was all but carrying her. He laid her gently on the exam table as a doctor and nurse entered the room. Nysa related the story of what had happened as they turned her onto her stomach so that they could examine and clean the wounds.

“Mostly superficial lacerations from what I can tell,” the doctor noted. “There are a few that managed to cut a bit deeper, and I’d like to clean them more thoroughly and stitch them just to be careful. I’m sure you’d prefer I play it safe to reduce the chances of scarring.”

“Yes, please,” mumbled Nysa as the nurse retrieved a suture kit. The guard walked to the door while the doctor picked up a syringe and began to administer the anesthesia.

“Wait!” cried Nysa. The security man looked back at her. “I wanted to thank you for your help out there. It would have been pretty hard to get out of that tree and up here without your help.”

“My pleasure, ma’am,” he replied. “Next time you’re wandering in the woods, look out for the wild trees. They look tame but can get pretty nasty.” He winked at her and left the room.

Nysa laid her head back on the table and the doctor continued suturing her wounds, pausing every now and then to do additional cleaning. When he was done, Nysa went back to the main lab to let Dr. Leyden, Mary Alice, and Laura know that she would be taking the rest of the day off to recover, but that she would be back first thing in the morning. It took her a while to explain what had happened and to assure the two women that she was, in fact, fine and didn’t require their assistance in getting back to her room. Dr. Leyden seemed less concerned about her injuries and told her that he would remain in the lab for the rest of the day working, should she need to contact him for any reason. Nysa thanked them all and, grimacing as she walked, shuffled to the elevator and back to her room. Once there, she gently undressed and carefully laid down on her bed for a nap.

I have heard rumors that the church is in possession of it. Is that possible? Can it have survived unharmed for so long? Oh, if I could look upon it once more I might be able to live again. How my life has fallen to ruins. I know I should be helping my fellow man, but worldly possessions have taken hold of me. I must take credit though; I have become quite successful in business and have accumulated quite a bit of wealth. Would the church sell me the shroud, the last remnant of his existence? my last link to a life I lived so long ago?, I wonder? From my dealings with them in the past, I would guess not. I will have to find another way. Possibly a replica will quench my desire. There are quite a few promising artists that I have available to me. I think I will commission Piero’s son to make me a copy. I will have to find someone within the church who will allow him access to it so that he can recreate the image. I have some acquaintances who might be able to help me with that. With the right incentives, I may be able to sneak him in to the Vatican. I must be very careful though, they must not know why he is there nor what he is doing.

February 1, 8:00 AM

After stopping by the main labs to say hello and tell her partners she was okay, Nysa spent the rest of the morning checking all of the supply cabinets, advising the other doctors and technicians as to their objectives as far as she could make them out at the moment and to find out if any additional chemicals, machines, enzymes, or other supplies might be needed in their designated stages of the cloning process. She walked slowly, as her shirt and lab coat were rubbing on the wounds on her back. Although they were bandaged, just the weight of the fabric of her clothing was uncomfortable. But she persisted. She made a list of some chemicals she believed they were a little light on, just to make sure there were no delays in the process once it was started. She was probably being overcautious, but from what she knew of Mr. Scario, it was likely the best way to handle things.

“Call and have someone bring these down,” Nysa said, handing her list to Laura upon her return to the main lab. “Or up, whatever,” she added as nobody seemed to know where the supplies were stored. Certainly there were other floors containing additional provisions, she just hadn’t seen them. Chalk it up to Mr. Scario’s secrecy.

A technician entered the room carrying a tray. He was an unremarkable young man, in his early thirties was Nysa’s guess. It was almost astonishing how plain he was, with no distinguishing characteristics at all to speak of. He quietly approached Nysa and set the tray down gently on the desk in front of her.

“Your samples, Dr. Knight,” he said and quickly left the room.

Nysa looked down into the tray. It contained fifteen to twenty swatches of cloth, each in its own bag. The cloth was white, or had been white at one time, and was very thinly worn. An odd sample for her, certainly not what she would expect if she were cloning an ancient species. Strange, though, that her sample would be on such old fabric. Maybe she would get her chance to clone Abraham Lincoln after all. “Que sera sera,” she thought. She wasn’t quite sure what she would get out of these pieces, but she was confident she would be able to extract enough DNA to form the complete strand required for cloning. While she searched through the swatches for the most promising pieces, the others in the lab meandered over to where she was sitting.

“Cloning a person for sure,” announced Dr. Leyden as he sat down next to her and looked at the baggies.

“How do you know that?” asked Laura.

“I don’t know of any animals that wore clothes, do you?”

“Um, no.” Laura turned away, obviously somewhat embarrassed by the condescending tone in his remark.

“We’ll test it to be sure, but I believe you’re right, Doctor,” Nysa said flatly. She glared at him to ensure no further snide remarks. “Looks like we’re all here to clone the first human. Does anyone have a problem with that?” Nysa asked looking from one to the other. They all shook their heads. “Good. I’m going to the other labs to check with everyone else. I’d rather replace someone now than in the middle of the project when they find out what exactly we’re doing here.” Nysa could see the excitement in their eyes before she turned and walked briskly to the elevator.

After visiting each of the labs to explain what the project probably was, she was surprised that not a single person had quit due to ethical or religious concerns over the cloning of a human being. While she wasn’t specifically opposed to human cloning, she knew it was a highly argued topic in the scientific community. Maybe Mr. Scario really was as good at selecting his employees as Mr. Stevens had indicated.

“Well,” she thought, “at least there won’t be any delays while we replace personnel.” She hit the elevator button to return to the main lab.

The rest of the day was dedicated to her primary reason for being there, the delicate task of separating the DNA from the cloth, chemicals, proteins, and other miscellaneous contaminates in the samples she had been provided. It was extremely tedious and nerve-wracking work, knowing that if she failed, not only would she lose her position, but the DNA might be forever lost.

Her two assistants provided what help they could, however Nysa kept them at arms length, giving them only enough to do to keep them busy and out of her way. This was her big shot and she wasn’t going to blow it because one of her assistants caused irreparable damage to her work. The samples were proving to be extraordinarily difficult to work with, and the meager amounts of DNA she was able to locate were nearly impossible to isolate and remove.

At the end of the day, the same technician who brought her the cloth swatches that morning returned. He waited patiently in front of her desk until she looked up.

“I’m here to collect the samples and any DNA you might have recovered,” he stated blandly.

“What?”

“All samples and DNA must be returned at the end of the day for storage in the vault. Mr. Scario’s orders.”

“Why?” Nysa asked.

“I don’t know. I just do what I’m told, Dr. Knight. I can come back if you would like more time.”

“No, now is fine,” snapped Nysa. “Give me a minute to put everything together.”

Nysa spent the next ten minutes gathering everything together for the tech. When he was gone she looked over at Dr. Leyden who had spent the day on one of the lab computers. He gave her a shrug that said “Who knows?” and returned to his computer.

Nysa returned to her room, undressed, and collapsed on the bed. She drifted off to sleep quickly and dreamed fitfully. She couldn’t remember much of her dreams the next morning, only that people had been yelling and throwing things at her and that she had been scared. She shrugged it off, showered, dressed, and got back to her labs.

What an exquisite piece of work! Piero’s son truly is a master at his craft. I managed to have one of the priests sneak me in for a look at the piece, and while I have trained my eye over the years in examining art, even I have trouble differentiating the original from the replica. He has truly found his life’s work. I regret though, that the people I have used to sneak him in and out of the church must never be allowed to tell what they know. I have already taken the steps necessary to assure that my secret does not get out. Piero will be allowed to keep his son, he has done good work for me, but the others must be silenced. My sins continue to accumulate. How will I earn forgiveness for these? Judgment Day will be particularly difficult for me I think.

February 1, 9:15 AM

Los Angeles, CA

Although Nysa had only been gone for a couple of days, Alastair missed her horribly. He’d had problems concentrating on his work all morning and had spent most of his time surfing the Internet reading news from around the world. Florida, California, Arizona, and New Mexico were all battling major fires that raged uncontrolled. Embers spit into the air were raining back down miles away, creating yet more fires for the already overmatched firefighters. The California fire alone had already claimed over two hundred homes and fifty businesses. Reports indicated it was only ten percent contained. Crews were being called in from other states to assist with the fight, but most had already sent what they could to one fire or another. The wildfire in Florida was currently the longest burning as it had been started almost two months ago. It had very quickly been determined to be the act of an arsonist and, although there were currently no suspects announced in the case, police insisted they were in possession of considerable evidence and it would only be a matter of time before a suspect was announced, arrested, and charges were filed. In South America, slash and burn farmers had lost control of their “burn” and had now managed to reduce roughly one hundred thousand acres of the rainforest to smoldering ash. Professional firefighters and equipment from all over the world were being flown in to assist in the efforts. Very little was actually being accomplished though. For every piece that the crews got contained, two more would break out down the line due to gusting winds and the difficult, uneven terrain. The only hope in sight was a storm that was expected to arrive later in the week.

“Well done, jackasses,” muttered Alastair. “I hope they can put the fire out before you destroy another hundred thousand.”

Rioting in Somalia, civil war in South Africa, and yet another fire sweeping through southern Russia. Alastair, tired of the bad news, locked his terminal and went downstairs for a cigarette.

February 15, 8:00 AM

Outside Castle Rock, CO

She had spent the previous two weeks breaking down the samples, putting them in test tubes, extracting the DNA, centrifuging to isolate it, and repeating the process all over again. It was a blur of digest buffers, Proteinase K, Phenolchloroform, and centricons. Because of the improvements she had made in the Capillary Electrofreeze process, she was able to isolate and extract almost ten times the amount of DNA traditional means would produce.

After twelve days of collecting the DNA fragments (she worked Saturdays but took Sundays off), she was looking forward to seeing what Dr. Leyden was capable of. She prayed that he was as good as he seemed to think he was. It would take a small miracle to put a full strand of DNA back together. The fragments she had recovered had been in very poor condition, very broken up. The sample was either extraordinarily old or had been stored in an extremely unfriendly environment. She had consolidated her samples down into a minimal number of test tubes to reduce the clutter that was beginning to overtake the many tables of the lab.

Nysa was sitting at one of the desks reviewing her handwritten notes and drinking a cup of coffee when the elevator gave its telltale ding. The doors opened and Dr. Leyden entered the room.

“Time for you to work your magic, Doctor,” Nysa said as he approached her desk.

“I’m not here for my sparking personality, now am I,” he replied dryly. “Where are the fragments?”

“A technician should bring them shortly. He’s retrieving them from the vault.”

“I really don’t understand why they lock them up every night. It’s not like anyone can go trotting off with them,” Dr Leyden replied. “I tried to go jogging the other day and almost wound up getting a body cavity search from the guards. Luckily, my charm saved me from such an unpleasant experience. Or maybe it was the chili I told them I had eaten the night before. Either way, my rectum was spared an unsavory violation at the hands of those gun-toting thugs.”

Nysa almost shot her Café Mocha through her nose at the image of stuffy Dr. Leyden lying face down on an examination table having his colon probed by a burly security guard. Luckily, she kept her composure as she was sure he did not find it nearly as amusing.

Dr. Leyden proceeded to his computer, sat down with his back to her, and tapped away loudly until the elevator announced the arrival of the next stage in the cloning process. The technician entered the room and again placed the materials on the desk in front of Nysa.

“Dr. Leyden,” Nysa called. “Your jigsaw puzzle has arrived. Hope you have some time on your hands, because this one is going to be a doozy.”

“Once again, Dr. Knight, my wit and good looks are not the reason I was flown out from sunny southern California to live in a dungeon, albeit a comfortable dungeon, in Colorado.”

Dr Leyden walked over to Nysa’s desk and picked up what DNA she had been able to recover. He walked slowly to one of the machines she had previously been unable to identify. Nysa followed him.

“What now?” she asked.

“With the help of this beauty here—no, not you Laura, the machine—I’m going to map all of the DNA strands you have so kindly provided. I will then use a program of my own design to analyze the fragments and determine their proper sequence. After that I have to piece them all back together and replicate them. Presto, chango, you can have as much DNA as you want.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

The look he gave her would have frozen a lava flow.

“For your information, even excluding the amount of work I put into creating this machine and the computer program I’ll use, I’m sure putting this mess back together far exceeds your capabilities. It may exceed mine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do if we’re going to finish this project and get back home.” He turned his back to her and began to prepare for the days and weeks ahead.

Nysa spent the rest of the day visiting the other floors, helping out where she could. There were a number of preparations still being made for the later stages of the cloning process. She took Laura and Mary Alice with her as Dr. Leyden indicated he neither needed nor desired their assistance. They were glad to come along and help. The whole idea of cloning a human and being part of the process had them practically vibrating with enthusiasm, and although they were still a bit green, they wound up being far more useful than Nysa had anticipated. With their gung-ho attitude, they were willing to do tasks the others had been putting off.

During their rounds they encountered Nysa’s neighbor and new friend, Jacqueline, in the elevator. Introductions had been brief and most of the ride had been spent in silence. The two young technicians were stand-offish and avoided not only conversation, but also any form of eye contact with Jacqueline. Exiting the elevator, Mary Alice and Laura began gossiping about Jacqueline’s purpose at the facility. Nysa cut their debate short.

“Let’s focus on the task at hand, and not worry about the office hearsay,” Nysa interjected into the conversation. The two younger women stopped and looked at Nysa. “I don’t know much more than you do about Jacqueline, but I don’t like rumors and won’t tolerate them in my presence.”

“Sorry,” came the reply from the two assistants as they dropped their gaze to the floor.

“Just try to consider her position. She seems to be outside her element, with a bunch of people she doesn’t know. How would you feel in her shoes?” Besides, Nysa thought, nobody knew anything about anybody in this place. For the most part everyone kept to themselves, did their work, and returned to their rooms alone. Actually, for the most part, outside of the main lab most of the staff seemed to be spending their time going to the spa, exercising outside, or watching movies and reading in their rooms. Why should Jacqueline be singled out for scrutiny?

By the time they returned to the main lab that evening, everything was well on its way to being in place for the next phase. The one question that seemed to be on everyone’s mind was when would the DNA be ready? Only then would the subsequent steps be necessary. At this point, that question was in the hands of one man. When they arrived, that man, Dr. Leyden, was still sitting at his mapping equipment.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he said as she entered the room.

“What, what’s wrong?” said Nysa somewhat startled.

“This is a friggin’ mess, that’s what. Do you know what he’s asking me to do here? To use your analogy from earlier, he wants me to put together a billion-piece jigsaw puzzle—and that’s not the worst part.”

“What is?” the three women asked in unison.

“It’s like a picture of a black cat in a dark room. Fuck. Screw it, I’m done for the day. You want to hang around and wait for little Mr. FedEx Jr. to pick this up and take it back to the vault?” Dr. Leyden stood and paced the room, rubbing at his short hair.

“Sure,” replied Nysa. “You look like you could use some rest. Go have a beer,” she suggested as he entered the elevator.

“Or twelve,” muttered Mary Alice. “And get laid while you’re at it.” They all burst out laughing then sat down at one of the desks to wait for someone to retrieve the samples.

Although not what I intended, the results were quite entertaining. I meant only to burn down Mr. Thomas Farriner’s bakery in order to rid myself of a man who became too nosy for his own good. What I got was a brilliant inferno as the flames jumped from rooftop to rooftop. As exhilarating as the commotion was, my initial purpose for starting the fire was a failure. That problem was remedied shortly thereafter in a much more direct method. As an added bonus, my involvement will never even be suspected thanks to Mr. Robert Hubert. I’m not sure who he is or why he confessed, but he is to be put to death for the crime, thus bringing to an end any investigations.

February 15, 9:45 PM

Los Angeles, CA

Alastair had yet another crappy day at work. He was getting his work done, but it had lost some of its appeal. He normally got wrapped up in his job and the days flew by. Since Nysa had left however, he had been dragging through the days. The worst part of it was not being able to just lift up the phone and hear her voice.

He was lounging on the couch in his boxer briefs and t-shirt waiting for the 10 o’clock news when he remembered the box. He got up, went to the bedroom, grabbed the box, and returned to the couch. He shoved the McDonald’s wrappers out of the way and set the box on the coffee table. He didn’t know what to expect, but a shoebox full of envelopes definitely hadn’t been it. He grabbed the first one and opened it.

“Dearest Alastair,

I don’t know when you’ll read this but know that I miss you horribly. Please try to remember that we are doing this for us, for our future. I am doing everything I can to get back to you as soon as possible. I love you more than I know how to express. I hope to see you soon. Dream of me.

Love,

Nysa

P.S. There is a memory card also in the envelope you just opened that contains some pictures. Have very good dreams of me.”

Alastair put the letter back in the envelope and pulled out the memory card, turning it slowly between his fingers. He was about to get up and go to the computer when the top of the news came on. The picture was of a mountainside that looked as though half of it had been ripped off. Lava flowed freely from the gaping wound.

“Holy shit!” Alastair set the card on the table.

“Our top story this evening: A volcano erupted roughly 15 minutes ago on the island of La Palma at the western end of the Canary Islands. The volcano, Cumbre Vieja, has virtually exploded, dropping a large slab of rock into the Atlantic Ocean. Current satellite photos show a tsunami estimated at two hundred feet traveling at close to three hundred fifty miles per hour headed toward the eastern seaboard. The enormous wave is destroying everything in its path and is expected to hit the U.S. in a little more than four hours. Everyone within two miles of the coast is being urged by authorities to evacuate immediately and move inland. Let’s go out to the field to our correspondent, Justin Frame, standing by in Newark, New Jersey.” The image switched over to a young reporter standing in the midst of chaos. Although quite evident given the situation portrayed in the background of the video, the anchorman asked the question anyway. “Justin, how are people reacting to this news?”

Alastair stopped listening. What if Nysa was on the East Coast? He had no idea where she was, but if she was cut off from the outside world, would she even know about the tsunami? He had no way to get word to her, as she had no cell phone or computer that he was aware of. He stood up and paced throughout the apartment. How could he make sure she was out of harm’s way?

He stopped short. The tower at the airport must have some record of the flight she had taken. If he could find out the destination of said flight, he would have an idea if she was safe or not. After searching the apartment for five minutes looking for the damn phone, he finally went to the base to page it and found it charging on its cradle. He picked it up and called information. Having obtained the phone number for the Santa Monica Airport he dialed, put the phone to his ear, and waited impatiently for someone to answer.

“Thank you for calling the Santa Monica Airport, how may I help you?” a friendly female voice answered.

“I am trying to track down a flight that left your airport January thirtieth. I would like to know the destination of the flight. Who would I need to speak to in order to get that information?”

“You would need to speak to Tower Control. Hold a minute and I’ll connect you.”

“Tower,” answered a gruff voice on the other end of the line.

“I’m trying to track down the destination of a flight that took off from your airport, please.”

“That is restricted information, sir. I can’t release it without the authorization of the pilot or a court order. Are you the pilot?”

“No,” Alastair answered.

“Do you have a court order?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry. I cannot give you that information. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“I don’t think you understand. My girlfriend’s life may be in danger. There is a tidal wave headed toward the east coast, and I have to make sure she’s safe. Is there any way to find out where she went?” Alastair was near panic.

“I’m sorry. Did you say tidal wave?” the man replied.

“Yes. A tidal wave is racing across the Atlantic Ocean toward the east coast destroying everything in its path. I need to find out where my fiancée went so I can make sure she’s safe.”

“I haven’t heard anything about a tidal wave. What on earth are you talking about?” the man asked.

“Turn on the news, for crying out loud!” Alastair yelled into the phone. “It’s on every fuckin’ channel. I need to know where she went!”

“Sir, I need you to settle down if you want to continue this conversation. Let me get this straight. Your girlfriend took a flight out of this airport but didn’t tell you where she was going?” The tone of his voice was skeptical.

“She’s working on some secret project and they wouldn’t even tell her where the flight was headed. I have to find out where she went! Is there any way you can help me?” Alastair had been reduced to pleading. He could hear the desperation in his voice.

“I’m sorry, sir, but no. Regardless of whether or not there is a tidal wave, I am not at liberty to divulge that information, and from the sound of it she wouldn’t want me to. Goodbye.” The line went dead.

“Shit!” Alastair threw the phone across the room. “Shit, shit, shit!” He didn’t have time for this. He continued pacing. How could he get the flight plan? The airport personnel obviously weren’t willing to help, but where else could he go? He didn’t know anybody else even associated with the project Nysa was working on. His only lead was the destination of her flight. He had to find out where she’d gone.

He looked at his computer. He sat down and stared at the screen.

Hacking. Getting into an airport’s computer system would take him days, even if he worked twenty-four-seven, but Nysa’s life was at stake. He got up and retrieved the phone. He had calls to make to some old associates. After an hour of phone calls, lots of begging, and an endless amount of trying to explain why he needed to hack the system, he had recruited five of his old hacking buddies to help him.

Because they knew one another and had worked together in the past, the attack plan came quickly and naturally. He’d have paid whatever he could, but it hadn’t come to that. Getting into such a secure system would be their only reward, and he had not needed to provide any additional incentive to obtain their help. It was nice having friends you could count on in a pinch.

They had formed the group while in college. A few were friends within Alastair’s fraternity; others he had met in his various computer classes. Patrick had been one of his pledge brothers, and they had quickly bonded due to their expertise in computers. They’d spent many an hour messing with online gamers. There had been nothing quite like the satisfaction of stealing fantasy weapons from some geek who had spent weeks or even months trying to acquire them.

Todd had been another fraternity brother. He had been a year ahead of both Alastair and Patrick. He was the one who had introduced them to the school’s records system. Wanting to minimize the trail leading back to them, they had not altered their own grades, merely the data of those willing to pay. The money they’d earned had subsidized quite a few Jack and Cokes.

David and Kane had been picked up from one of Todd’s upper division programming classes. While he never had any facts to back up his suspicions, Alastair had always thought they were more than just friends. Last, but not least, had come Foxy. Alastair wasn’t even sure what his real name was. They had met him through friends of Kane.

Most of the group’s activities had been juvenile in nature. Every year the incoming class of freshman was given a directory for various offices around campus, local restaurants that delivered, and other quasi-important phone numbers. Alastair and the gang had switched the number for the local Pizza Hut to that of the Dean of Admissions. It had taken the Dean quite some time to figure out why he was getting calls at two in the morning for a large pepperoni.

The process of hacking into the airport’s tower logs began slowly, poking and prodding at the various security systems in place to try and find a weakness. None of the usual backdoors worked. The time dragged by, the Cokes disappeared, the carton of cigarettes in the freezer gradually went up in smoke (he got a little chuckle when that thought occurred to him). By the time one o’clock in the morning rolled around, Alastair was sick with worry. They had made very little progress in hacking into the little airport’s communications tower.

The phone rang. Alastair, who had been leaning back in his chair, tipped over. He climbed back to his knees, righted the overturned chair, and while rubbing the knot on the back of his head with one hand, snatched up the phone with the other.

“Hello?”

“Good news, buddy, I’m in,” came a voice on the other end of the line. He knew immediately it was Patrick.

“Great, where did the flight go?” Alastair blurted out.

“I’m not sure. You never gave me any details of the flight we’re looking for, and I left my psychic abilities in my gym bag. When did the flight leave?”

“January thirtieth, in the morning—I’m not sure of the exact time.” Alastair heard the sound of Patrick pecking away at his keyboard.

“That narrows it down to eight private flights, assuming that by morning you mean between eight and noon.”

“Where did they go?” Alastair’s heart was racing in his chest.

“Two of them flew to Seattle and left roughly fifteen minutes apart. I would guess that they were traveling together. One went to Houston, one to Mexico, one to Colorado Springs, two to New York, and the last one went to Chicago. Who’s your daddy?”

“Stop screwing around. The two that went to New York, when did they take off?” Alastair could feel the Coke churning in his stomach. He thought he might throw up.

“One left at eight, the other at nine thirty. Does that help?” Patrick, although a smart ass, was a good guy. He and Alastair had been very close during their college days and seemed to sense the importance of the information.

“The one that left at eight is out, she left here at about that time, but the nine thirty would be do-able. Any more information you can give me about that flight?”

“The plane was a Cessna Sovereign. The flight plan was filed by a Mike Richard. Not really much more I can make out. The page is mostly codes and abbreviations. Sorry man.”

“No worries.” A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Hey, can you do me a favor and pull up the names for all eight flights. Look for Scario or Stevens.” Alastair knew he was getting his hopes up, but this just might work. If they were in the system, he might be able to not only find out that she was safe, but could also get an idea of where she went.

“Nothing for the two Seattle flights. We don’t need to check that New York flight, Richard is the other, Houston no. What? Crap, I just got booted. Apparently they saw me poking around in their system. Good thing I set it up so they would trace it back to you. Is that your doorbell?” Patrick snickered. “Sorry man, I lost the connection. I hope you got enough information, I don’t think we should poke around anymore now that they know someone got in. I like you and all, but I really have no desire to be on intimate terms with a large hairy man named Bubba.”

“No, you’re right. Thanks, I got what I was looking for. Nysa’s safe. That’s all that really matters. Thanks for the help bud, I owe you one.” Alastair now thought he would vomit from relief.

“Don’t sweat it, man. Just another feather in my cap. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do, or just give me a call sometime. It’s good to hear from you. Let me know when we can go out for a beer.”

Alastair realized now was not the time to discuss his sobriety. “Yeah, thanks again.” He hung up the phone and collapsed on the couch. Although the whole process had taken less time than his work day, the stress had drained him of all energy. He picked up the remote and turned the television back on.

The tsunami had already caused massive destruction throughout the Atlantic. Pretty much every coastline had been devastated. Alastair could only watch as the pictures flashed by. Entire cities were gone, replaced with wreckage and muddy water. Lisbon, Portugal, was reduced to a pile of rubble. Survivors waded through the muddy waters looking for loved ones and precious belongings. Cork, Ireland, once a beautiful seaside city, was decimated. The pictures and footage of the town were appalling. Dead sea life was strewn about, giving the impression that a fishing factory had exploded. Ships lay on their side with no ocean in sight. What used to be streets were crowded with bloated bodies, a combination of the aquatic and human casualties. Alastair had difficulty telling them apart.

“This is what is in store for the eastern seaboard,” Alastair whispered. The thought was more than he could bear in his already emotionally and physically exhausted state. He could only pray that the population on that side of the country had been given ample warning and heeded it. He shut off the television and went to bed hoping for a long dreamless sleep.

February 16, 8:00 AM

Outside Castle Rock, CO

Nysa entered the lab to find Dr. Leyden already hard at work. He didn’t seem to be in a very receptive mood, so Nysa took a seat at one of the desks to look over his notes from the previous day. According to what he had written, this stage might take a while. The pieces she had been able to recover had fragmented severely and, while his abilities far exceeded those of his peers, he was still left with quite a mess. His estimate for being able to reconstruct a single strand of DNA, which they would then replicate, was in the neighborhood of two months. Although this seemed to be an accomplishment to Nysa, she could tell by the tone that he found it unacceptable. Nysa closed the notebook and stood up from the desk.

“I’m going to go check on the other labs. Can I bring you back anything?” she asked as she strode to the elevator.

“The largest cup of coffee you can find, as thick as you can find it. I want to feel the hair on my balls growing as I drink it.”

“Hmmm. Pleasant visual, thanks.” She turned and left the room.

She returned about an hour later with some kind of sludge that oozed out of the cup rather than poured, but Dr. Leyden seemed pleased. He took a few large gulps of the muck and turned back to his computer. Nysa took this as a sign that now was not the time to socialize. Mary Alice and Laura were wandering around the lab attempting to look busy but having a hard time of it.

“Why don’t you two take the day off? I don’t think Dr. Leyden will be asking for any assistance from us today. I’ll be using you both a great deal during the next stage of the project, and you’ll need the extra rest. Go have a nice day outside; it might be the last opportunity you have once we get the DNA put back together.”

The two assistants practically ran from the room. As the elevator door shut, Nysa walked back to the computer Dr. Leyden was using.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Nysa asked.

“Nope. I really wish there were, but we’ve got all the DNA we can get from those rags, and you don’t know how to use this computer program. I don’t really have the time to teach you, so unless you can find a magic sample for me to base this reconstruction off of, I don’t see anything you can do to help. Sorry.”

“If you want to show me what you’re doing, we might be able to make this process go a bit faster.” Nysa could see him squirm in his chair. “Relax, I am a doctor, and my fiancé is a computer programmer so I do know a bit about them.”

“Tell you what,” he replied. “Give me until lunch to try and get a bit more done, and then I’ll give you a tutorial. Make me a promise, though. If you don’t catch on quickly, let me continue my work uninterrupted.”

“Deal,” she replied and left the room.

After lunch she returned for her lesson. Although the process was difficult, her time with Alastair had solidified her expert grasp of computers. By the time two o’clock rolled, around she could handle short sessions at the controls by herself. She still had to ask the occasional question, but Dr. Leyden acted impressed with her grasp of the program.

“You know, if we keep up this pace, we might just be able to get this done before our deadline.” Dr. Leyden stopped playing with his hair and sat down next to Nysa. “So what do you think, Dr. Knight?” Dr. Leyden inquired. “If and when we get the DNA reconstructed, replicated, and a viable embryo is created, what then? Who is going to mother this child?”

Nysa started. “I’m not sure. To be honest, I hadn’t given it any thought. I figure we’ll find out once we reach that point. With how secretive everything is around here, I don’t think it’ll be posted on any bulletin boards.” Nysa went back to her work, trying to focus on the task at hand.

I am forced to keep moving from place to place to conceal who I am. Surely if I stay in one place for too long someone will start asking questions. My latest move was nearly a disaster as some of my most valued possessions went missing. They were worth quite a large sum of money and were extremely difficult to acquire. Luckily, a World War tends to cover one’s tracks while also providing a scapegoat. While I was quite wealthy before, the Germans will take the blame while I take the opportunity to add to my assets. I know I should feel guilty for stealing from innocent families, but I’ve become the monster everyone believes me to be, so does it really matter? All turned out well as I was able to reacquire them from the house of one of the men that I hired for the move. I am sure he will not be missed.

February 17, Los Angeles, CA

Alastair had never seen anything like it. He followed the news reports on an hourly basis, checking them repeatedly while at work. He had not been this preoccupied with a news story since the attacks of 9/11.

The chaos and destruction were indescribable. Entire cities reduced to rubble, fleets gone, and carcasses of every variety strewn about like toys in a child’s room. Reports were still sketchy at best. The number of missing persons was disturbingly high.

The eastern seaboard was for all intents and purposes gone. New York City, Atlantic City, Miami—all were all a pile of wreckage, death, and grief.

The images of New York City he found especially disturbing. The once proud, once rebuilt city of New York had been reduced to ruins. After the World Trade Center attacks, media images had been of a demolished building being swarmed by rescuers and volunteers. The current pictures and live video were of a decimated city with a few floundering people left.

It didn’t even look like a city anymore. It looked like a construction site discard pile. Car parts, ship parts, and body parts littered the landscape. The few survivors picked through the debris as they had on that fateful day in September of 2001, hoping, praying to find others alive. Alastair could only mourn, knowing that even if some people had survived the initial impact of the wave, they had most likely drowned or had been battered to death in the churning waters.

The image that kept popping up in all of the stories was of a mother and her infant son from southern Georgia. While she had done all she could to protect her child, she had been unable to outrun Mother Nature. According to the news story, she had heeded the warnings and attempted to move inland, to higher ground. She hadn’t had a car so she had started out on foot. She hadn’t been fast enough. The picture was of her, covered in mud and waste, the remains of her dress torn and bloody, sitting on what appeared to be the concrete steps that should lead up to the front door of a house. However, there was no welcoming front door behind her, only a vast wasteland of wreckage. Shattered boards and beams mixed with branches and tree roots littered the landscape where the house had once stood. She sat curled around her deceased child, quietly weeping. Tears streaked down her face and collected on her chin, where they eventually dripped on to the lifeless toddler in her lap. She slowly stroked the child’s hair and gently rocked him.

How could God allow such a thing? thought Alastair. Although he was not religious like his father, he did believe in something out there that was more powerful than himself. How could any God, Allah, Buddha, whomever, allow something this dreadful to happen? Alastair, while not having children of his own, could only imagine the wretched pain and despair the woman in the picture was feeling. The tenderness with which she was holding the small boy, and the hopelessness in her face, would be forever etched in his memory.

Late February-Early March, Outside Castle Rock, CO

The days came and went. The reconstruction process was painfully slow, but Nysa could see some progress being made. She kept her assistants occupied, checking on equipment and keeping things clean and tidy, so as not to annoy Dr. Leyden. He might be good at his job, but his people skills were lacking.

By the end of two weeks, Nysa was able to spend longer stretches at the computer on her own. They had another computer brought to the lab so that they could work the program at the same time. Occasionally, because Dr. Leyden was so focused on the task at hand, Nysa practically had to order him to leave the lab and get some fresh air. Although he protested, he always seemed mellow upon his return.

Nysa ate, drank, slept and lived DNA reconstruction. Finally in mid-March they saw a quickening of the process. As the strand was reassembled and fewer pieces remained, the jigsaw was taking shape. They completed the second phase of the experiment on March twenty-sixth, just before two in the afternoon.

March 23, Los Angeles, CA

It was awful trying to get through his days without Nysa. Alastair was terribly lonely and spent more and more time at work. He hated going home to an empty apartment every night. He was grateful for the box of letters Nysa had left for him. Without them, he thought he would probably have quit his job and gone looking for her already.

On the brighter side, his supervisors were taking notice of his long hours at the office and had given him a small bonus—not much, but it was a nice gesture. So Alastair went to work early, left late, went to his AA meetings and generally avoided the apartment except to shower and sleep.

He stayed up–to-date on world affairs. The fires in the U.S. southwest had finally been extinguished and the tsunami-affected parts of the world had money flooding in from corporations and individuals alike. As always, it wasn’t enough but it would certainly get the rebuilding process started. Israel was going at it with Lebanon, but what else was new in the Middle East?

Alastair was intrigued by an upcoming eclipse. According to an article he read, on the twenty-ninth there would be a double eclipse for the first time in recorded history. The moon would eclipse the sun in the morning, and the Earth would eclipse the moon that night. He thought it pretty cool that he would be able to witness something astronomers stated occurred once every four million years.

After their meeting, Alastair and his sponsor Bryan went out for coffee. They were going to meet some of the others at Starbucks in Woodland Hills. During the ride, the music was interrupted with news that a meteorite had hit in China. News reports will still coming in, but preliminary reports showed it to be quite sizable and indications were that it had hit somewhere close to Harbin. Although not quite as bad as a landing in Hong Kong, the property damage alone was expected to be in the hundreds of millions of dollars.

Alastair turned off the radio and groaned. “I’m getting sick of listening to this stuff. With Nysa gone, I could use a little hope and happiness in my life. Except for the Dodgers being in first place, all the news is about fires, earthquakes, tsunamis, and now meteorites. Where are the stories on dogs rescuing small children from drowning? I want to hear about the two-year-old that dialed 9-1-1 and saved his mom. I think I need to start logging on to HappyNews.com and not CNN.com. It’s just too depressing right now.”

Bryan chuckled. “That’s not what sells, man. ‘If it bleeds, it leads,’ right? People like being scared. They like seeing others more miserable than themselves. How are you supposed to get by in life spending most of your time at a job you hate, if you can’t come home and see people worse off than you?” Bryan smiled and slugged Alastair in the shoulder. “By the way, how is your Fourth Step coming along?”

“Step Four asks us to make a searching, fearless and moral inventory of ourselves,” Alastair responded.

“I didn’t ask what it is, I asked how it was coming along.”

“I really don’t understand why I have to do this again. I did it with my last sponsor.”

Bryan started to respond but Alastair cut him short by snapping the radio on. George Strait was crooning about reaching Amarillo by morning. “Let’s just listen to some music. I’m not in the mood for this right now.” He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

The next day Alastair called his father. He could use a nice father-son chat to make him feel better. His father answered on the second ring.

“Good morning, Dad. How are you today?”

“Hanging in there. Got some more work to do on this week’s sermon, but it’s coming along. How are you doing?”

“Bunch of bullshit at work, but what else is new?” Alastair replied. He gave his father the rundown of the most recent events in his life, found out what his father was doing to keep busy, and engaged in some small talk. “I’m worried about Nysa,” Alastair suddenly blurted out before he could stop himself. He hadn’t intended on discussing his concerns with his father, but now it was out there and there was nothing he could do to take it back.

“What seems to be the problem?” his father replied, concern in his voice over the sudden shift in topic.

“I don’t know,” Alastair grumbled. “It’s not really that we have a problem, it’s just her job. I’m just worried about her I guess.”

“Why?”

Alastair let out a sigh. “Nothing I guess. I’m just being paranoid. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Anytime, Alastair,” came the reply. “Really, anytime.”

“Goodbye, Dad,” and Alastair set the phone gently in its cradle.

The Church is filled with fools. I have succeeded in replacing the original with the fake I had made so long ago. It came at a high price: I have to silence yet another member of the Vatican. While it is unfortunate that he had such a short time to live his dream, he should thank me for getting him there in the first place. I groomed him for the position after all. I influenced the right people and bought others. As repayment for my generosity, I asked only for some time alone with the shroud. He granted my request, arranged for my visit, and granted me as much time as I desired. The switch was easy, the objects being almost identical. Now I am in possession of the most important historical relic and the Church is holding an item that is worthless by comparison.

Nobody suspects what I did. The only person who is aware of my identity is going to be dead in less than six hours. I have arranged to make any links back to me, or inquiries into his cause of death, unavailable.

I have conquered the Church again. They are imbeciles. I know now that I can accomplish anything. There is nobody—nobody—who can oppose me and succeed. I will have all that my heart desires and more. This curse will come to an end one way or the other. I have been trapped in this life for far too long.

March 26,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

Dr. Leyden had completed his portion of the work and was taking a well-deserved break, spending a few days relaxing and touring the rest of the facility. Tuesday, feeling unusually friendly, he approached the security guard he had encountered previously while out running. The guard was eating lunch in the main cafeteria.

“Good morning,” Dr Leyden said as he approached the table. “May I join you?”

The guard looked up from his meal and shrugged his response. Dr. Leyden took it as a yes and sat down. “My name is Dr. Shannon Leyden, and you are?” he asked, extending his right hand.

“Thomas,” the younger man replied and shook his hand firmly. Dr. Leyden thought it odd that Thomas did not offer his last name, but he accepted the reply without further questioning. They sat for a while exchanging small talk and having a pleasant conversation. As they ate, Dr. Leyden accidentally knocked the ketchup off of the table. Before it could hit the ground, the guard’s hand shot out and grabbed it out of midair. The movement was eerily snake-like.

“Nice catch,” Dr. Leyden commented. Thomas merely shrugged again as he set the bottle back on the table. Dr. Leyden noticed the muscular forearms that extended up into a well-built, well-toned upper body. With a build like that, and the reflexes of a cobra, this was not a man to be tangled with. He also now had a look in his eyes that made Dr. Leyden extraordinarily uncomfortable. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. It was almost as if the younger man was amused by the world while at the same time extremely hostile toward it…as though if you ceased to entertain him he would kill you just to find out what your reaction would be to his attack.

Dr. Leyden tried to continue the conversation and not focus on the creepy feeling he was experiencing. He discovered that Thomas was from nearby Manitou Springs. He had previously worked for Mr. Scario but would not discuss what that work entailed.

Dr. Leyden continued poking and prodding with his questions. Over the next half hour or so he was able to determine that Thomas was not originally from Manitou. He was ex-Special Forces, but Dr. Leyden didn’t know with which branch. Thomas implied that the other guards were as well. This disturbed Dr. Leyden. While he could appreciate the need for security, he was uncomfortable with the fact that a bunch of Seals, Rangers, Recon, whatever, were guarding the premises. It seemed to be a bit excessive even if they were cloning the first human being. They were in the middle of nowhere in a building that appeared from the outside to be a nondescript cabin or bed and breakfast. Nobody would give it a second look.

“Well, I’d better get back going. It was a pleasure meeting you,” Dr. Leyden said, pushing back from the table and standing up. Thomas nodded and looked out the window. Dr. Leyden shrugged, grabbed his trash, and meandered to the trashcan, passing Jacqueline as he went. She had been eating alone, speaking to and looking at no one.

He popped in a movie he had requested from Bekki the previous evening and lay down on the bed to watch it. He drifted off to sleep while it played. Awakening a couple hours later, he was drenched in sweat and shaking. He could not remember the details of his nightmare, only the feeling that he was in the company of Death himself. Although the temperature of the room had not changed, he could not stop shivering. His blood felt like ice water coursing through his veins. He got up off of his bed and cranked up the thermostat. It didn’t help. The room was empty but dread remained his companion.

He decided he needed a walk outside, an opportunity to lose himself in the beauty of the outdoors. A fresh snowfall had blanketed the landscape the prior evening and he hoped to enjoy a stroll through the virgin powder. He changed out of his damp clothing, showered, and left his room. He went upstairs and, as he opened the doors to the lobby, the chill in the air was like a slap in the face.

“Don’t stay out too long,” Bekki called from the front desk. “It’s deceptively cold outside.”

Dr. Leyden grunted a reply and moved out into the frigid air. While he had dressed warmly, the wind seemed to cut right through his jacket and go in search of any crevice that allowed access to his warm body. Between the outside air and the deathly cold that remained from his dream, he was as miserable as he remembered ever having been. He continued on his walk, determined to warm himself up.

A steady thumping noise interrupted his thoughts. He looked around to locate the source of the sound and saw a helicopter lifting off from the roof of the compound. Strange, he thought. Who could be leaving in a helicopter? Maybe there had been a medical emergency. He hurried back to the building, doing his best to avoid creating his own medical emergency. Between the patches of ice and tree roots sticking up all over the place but hidden by the snow, he almost didn’t succeed. He stumbled, rather than walked, into the lobby of the building, shaking the snow from his jacket.

“Mr. Scario has just arrived. Prepare his room at once.”

Dr. Leyden turned to try and determine the identity of the person who had just spoken. Although it had been uttered in barely more than a whisper, the layout of the lobby carried the words to him as if spoken in his ear. There were five employees standing in a small group, and it was impossible to tell which of them had unknowingly divulged this information.

What is Scario doing here? he thought. The experiment would not be completed for some time now. The stages that were left were still problematic and could result in enormous time delays. His being here now served no purpose.

Dr. Leyden couldn’t imagine that Scario would be touring the labs congratulating everyone on the good work done thus far. Scario had done so much to keep his identity a secret that revealing himself to the staff at this point made no sense whatsoever. A little investigating is in order, Dr. Leyden thought as he strode to the elevator.

Although he did plenty of snooping, Dr. Leyden neither saw nor heard anything more about Mr. Scario over the next few days. If in fact he had arrived, he had not made his presence known to anyone who didn’t need to know. As far as Dr. Leyden could tell, none of the scientists suspected anything. The staff obviously had to be aware of Scario’s arrival, but none of them gave any indication.

His investigation continued and so did his nightmares. That night it was much worse. By morning he was shaking so badly that he had been unable to get out of bed for an hour for fear that his legs would be incapable of holding him.

March 27, Los Angeles, CA

Alastair’s weekend had been extraordinarily exhilarating. The double eclipse the previous night had put him in his best mood since Nysa’s departure. He had spent the weekend taking in movies and playing video games, but he also spent some time with the guys discussing the event of a lifetime. It had lasted much longer than he had expected, and the photos and videos posted online were nearly as amazing as the event itself. He went to his meetings, and took the opportunity to go out and get some coffee afterward as a way of keeping out of the apartment. He had been in such a good mood that he had even gone to the park. He walked around for a couple of hours, enjoying the warm spring weather, the sounds of the children playing, and the thoughts of Nysa that drifted lazily through his mind. A content smile played on his lips, and happiness filled his heart.

Keeping my identity and monies a secret is becoming increasingly more complicated. With fingerprinting, DNA, and money-laundering rules, the ability to hide is occupying more and more of my time. Most of my assets are now in the Cayman Islands and Switzerland, which makes them more difficult to retrieve. I can’t just wire in millions of dollars anytime I want. I’ve got to find an easier way to conceal my fortune while still keeping it accessible.

April 2, Outside Castle Rock, CO

The most exciting news around the lab was the fact that the Eisenhauers, the nuclear transfer specialists, were now working on creating a viable embryo with their newly reconstructed DNA. They were working closely with Dr. Phipps, as he was in charge of caring for the embryos once they had undergone the enucleation, nuclear transfer, and fusion. The biggest problem they needed to overcome now was the simple fact that generally only one or two embryos from every hundred created would become viable. The Eisenhauers averaged three per hundred, which statistically far exceeded the average, but was still a fairly small amount of embryos to work with. That was where Dr. Phipps’ specialty would come into play. He had to correctly identify those one or two that had the highest chance of implantation and then successfully transfer them into the womb of their surrogate mother.

Nysa finally understood where Jacqueline, her neighbor, came into play. She was the outsider. She had not been involved in any of the scientific research or processes. It left very few options for her function. Nysa assumed Jacqueline had been brought in to provide the womb for the first cloned human being. She was impressed with Jacqueline’s composure in the face of such a monumental event. While she hadn’t had much interaction with the young woman since they first met at the elevator, Jacqueline seemed to be neither excited by the prospect nor stressed out by it. She seemed almost indifferent to the event. Nysa found that bizarre. If you were going to allow your body to incubate and sustain the first cloned human fetus, wouldn’t you feel something about it?

“Whatever,” Nysa mumbled, and tried to refocus on her work. They were all excited at the prospect of being the first scientists to clone a human. Electricity filled the air as the various scientists and assistants buzzed about the room. That energy doubled when Dr. Phipps announced he believed he had a viable embryo and sent Laura to find a medical technician to get Jacqueline ready for the implantation. Laura raced to the elevators and disappeared.

The process was a relatively simple procedure. They transported the embryo to the exam room where Jacqueline was waiting. Using a catheter, Dr. Phipps inserted the fertilized egg up her vagina, past her cervix, and into her uterus. There, with the help of acupuncture, the egg would—if all went as planned—implant in the uterine wall and develop into one of science’s greatest achievements.

April 3, Los Angeles, CA

The story was about another meteorite that had hit, this time in southern Mississippi. Images taken from a news helicopter showed a large crater billowing thick black smoke into the air. According to the reporter, the meteorite had hit late the night before. As reports came in of several cases of skin irritations on people in the vicinity of the meteorite, ranging from a burning feeling to painful, sting-like sensations, residents were evacuated. The general consensus was that the irritations were from all the debris and ash kicked up into the air, but the CDC had been advised of the situation and was on the scene investigating the possible chemical or biological causes.

Alastair stared at his television, unable to believe what he was seeing. He was beginning to be really thankful that he did not live in the southeastern part of the United States. Having just been hit by a tsunami, and now having to deal with some sort of skin condition on account of a meteorite, was putting a strain on the medical resources of the area, as well as the people living there.

The outpouring of help from the rest of the country overshadowed any negative news coming out of the region. While burdening their already understaffed hospitals due to the tsunami, doctors and nurses from around the country were flying in to donate their time treating the overwhelming number of people flooding the local hospitals with symptoms of this unidentified skin ailment.

Alastair turned off the television at the end of the story, hoping to avoid any further drag on what had been, up until this latest national news report, a very pleasant day. He quickly showered, brushed his teeth, and climbed into bed with his laptop. Before turning off the light and going to sleep, Alastair enjoyed the very inspiring contents of the memory card Nysa had left for him.

I believe I have found a way to bring this miserable curse to an end. I just read an article about a sheep named Dolly. I think it may be the only way to end this nightmare I am forced to endure. This idea requires further exploration to determine if it’s feasible, but it gives me hope.

April 6, Outside Castle Rock, CO

Nysa was awakened from her sleep at 1:16 A.M. with the news that Jacqueline had been taken to the medical wing with vaginal bleeding. As she was being transported on a gurney to the medical facilities, an overhead light had burst, raining glass down on Jacqueline and the nurse who had been pushing the bed. Jacqueline was fine, but the nurse had suffered multiple small lacerations to the top of her head where the glass had landed. The nurse remained for medical treatment while someone else pushed Jacqueline’s hospital bed to her room. There they moved her into a different bed, making sure there was no broken glass in her gowns, and completed their examinations. The doctor had come in a short while later with the bad news.

Jacqueline had taken the news of her miscarriage especially hard. Nysa had spent the night and morning with her, offering a shoulder to cry on and lending an ear when the young woman wanted to talk. She alternated back and forth between the two roles as Jacqueline would stop crying and talk about life in her hometown, only to burst into tears again. Nysa listened patiently. It was difficult to see the woman in anguish, and Nysa was beginning to see her not only as another participant in the experiment, but as a young woman who needed a friend. Nysa knew that Jacqueline had the same restrictions as all others did in regards to contact with the outside world, so who else could she share her pain with? All night they discussed not only the miscarriage, but also Jacqueline’s life.

According to Jacqueline, life in a small town was not always easier than in a big city. You had no privacy in a small town. Jacqueline had been the captain of the cheerleading squad at her high school and also daughter of the mayor. Everyone knew who she was, what she was doing, and when. That fact had irritated her to no end. Hadn’t those people had a life of their own? Why had they always put their noses into her business? Everyone was always talking about the charm of living in a small town, but Jacqueline had been disgusted by the constant intrusions into the most intimate details of her life. Still, she’d put on a smiling face when she’d gone about town and had done her best to fit in.

Jacqueline’s father had never been a warm and tender man, but he had also never been cruel or violent. That changed when, at the age of fifteen, she had been caught smoking marijuana with her boyfriend at the park after school. Her father had gotten drunk that night, and as he ranted and raved about how she had embarrassed the family and ruined his political career, he struck and kicked her repeatedly. She did her best to fend off the onslaught of blows. The last thing she remembered was cowering in the corner of her bedroom trying to protect herself as the fists and feet rained down on her body. A particularly well placed kick had broken three ribs. She had passed out from the excruciating pain.

The next day she had learned the true extent of her injuries. Her father had broken her cheekbone, the ulna in her right arm, and three ribs. Worst of all, he had caused irreparable damage to her fallopian tubes with an especially violent kick to her lower abdomen. He had been arrested that evening and was ultimately sentenced to ten years in prison for assault and battery.

Jacqueline had not visited or corresponded with him even once. Letters came in the mail but were immediately torn up and thrown into the trash. Her family had begged her to forgive him. They pleaded that he had made a mistake, was sorry for what he had done, and was serving his punishment. Jacqueline ignored them all and went on with her life the best she could, but she was constantly faced with staring people or insensitive remarks about her experience. “It’s none of your business!” she had wanted to shout, but she had kept quiet about her father and that dreadful night.

Soon it became too much for her. She moved north to live with an aunt on her mother’s side, the only one who had understood and agreed with Jacqueline’s desire to completely cut her father out of her life.

Nysa sat and listened, horrified at the thought of being beaten unconsciousness by your own father one day, and finding out the next that he had also taken away your ability to ever bear a child. She listened as Jacqueline spoke of her healing process, moving from a general distrust and dislike of men in general to the despair over her infertility and then her eventual acceptance and decision to look forward to good times rather than back to the bad.

Jacqueline had worked hard and finished high school early. Her good grades had earned her a full scholarship to Notre Dame. She jumped at the chance to move out on her own and leave some memories behind. She had majored in Theology, immersing herself in her studies.

The healing process continued through her college years. Although she did not date, she acquired a few male friends and took on a teaching assistant role for one of her professors. With Professor Uda’s guidance and assistance, Jacqueline gained admission to the Theological Studies graduate program to advance her knowledge. She continued working closely with the professor while completing her Master’s degree, and as he slowly chipped away at her defenses she revealed more and more of her past to him. She was shocked when one day she realized he knew almost everything about her. She had told him of her childhood, the loss of that childhood at the hands and feet of her father, and her subsequent distrust of all things male. This last bit of information, she remembered, had given him a sympathetic chuckle.

At the end of the fall quarter of her last year, Professor Uda had offered her an opportunity to complete her remaining requirements by meeting with a representative of a colleague. She had agreed. At the meeting with Mr. Stevens, she had been offered her Master’s degree as well as a sizeable trust fund if she would be willing to bear and raise the world’s first, cloned human.

She had stared at Professor Uda as the proposition was explained. He had appeared to be deeply in thought, gently rubbing the side of his neck. He was a handsome man, with only the beginnings of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead and grey just starting to invade his hair. His skin was weathered, like he’d spent much of his time in the sun.

Jacqueline’s attention had snapped back to what was being said. She couldn’t have heard the proposal right. When Stevens had finished, she’d sat, stunned by the offer. Her initial reaction had been to reject the proposal, but as she’d contemplated it further, she’d realized that it might be her only chance at motherhood. The decision would not only be a difficult one, but one with unimaginable ramifications.

Although she still hadn’t had any romantic interest in men, she’d had a strong maternal instinct. Additionally, all her medical expenses would be paid for, money would be provided to help raise the child, and the baby would be hers. Her child. She’d finally talked herself into it, putting aside any question of morality or ethics surrounding the cloning of a human being, and had given Mr. Stevens her answer. She’d had to address a few formalities with the college, but upon her departure at the end of the fall semester, she was awarded her M.T.S. degree.

“So I spent the next couple months as a waitress at a diner near my house just to keep busy,” continued Jacqueline. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

Nysa didn’t reply. She just sat at the foot of the bed absorbing what she had just been told.

“Thanks for listening Nysa, but I think I’d like to get some rest now. You look like you could use some, too.”

Nysa glanced at her watch. It was now almost 7 A.M. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait until you fall asleep?”

“No thanks, I’m fine. Thank you again. I feel a lot better.”

Nysa hugged Jacqueline and went back to her room to catch some shut-eye herself. She fell asleep almost instantly.

April 28,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

The rest of April tried everyone’s nerves. The loss of the embryo had taken the wind out of more than one person’s sails and everyone skulked around the labs aimlessly. For the lab staff, there wasn’t much else to be done at this stage with the exception of the production and care of additional embryos. Dr. Phipps continued to work tirelessly in the identification of the most promising specimens. The others passed the time washing already clean beakers, running already analyzed scenarios on the computers, and attempting to keep busy in the down time.

When Jacqueline’s body was again ready for another attempt at implantation, the excitement and giddiness returned. She had had a shorter menstrual cycle than anticipated so there was a bit of a rush for preparation. As the technicians raced around the labs and the medical personnel prepared the rooms, Jacqueline was once again escorted to the medical facilities to await the arrival of Dr. Phipps and, hopefully, her future child. The procedure went well, and no problems arose, but Jacqueline was asked to stay in the medical suite overnight for observation.

Nysa stepped out of the elevator on level B-4, the medical floor, and made her way past the nurses’ station toward Jacqueline’s room. As she turned the corner, a light fixture above her inexplicably exploded, showering Nysa with glass. She wasn’t injured but was a bit shaken by the experience. She brushed off the broken glass as a nurse called a technician to test the fixture for any problems and replace the light bulb. This was the second time a light fixture had burst and there was obviously some sort of short or surge happening in the system that needed to be addressed.

Nysa stepped cautiously through the shards and continued down the hall. She entered the room and sat down on the end of the bed, crossing her legs and facing Jacqueline. In Nysa’s opinion, the room was much larger than necessary. A full-sized couch sat opposite the door, a television positioned so that both the patient and her guest would be able to see it. A collection of computers and monitors lined the wall behind the bed and a small rolling stool stood abandoned in the corner.

The young woman looked tired but alert. Her hair was a bit out of place and makeup nearly gone from the long day she had had. Her gown was crumpled and open in the back, but Jacqueline seemed not to notice or care. Modesty apparently was not high on her priority list at the moment. Nysa noticed that Jacqueline kept glancing over at the monitors. She looked nervous. She sat fidgeting with her hair and chewing on her bottom lip.

“How are you feeling?” Nysa asked.

“Fine,” answered Jacqueline. “But then again I felt fine last time, too.”

“Try not to think about last time. I know it’s hard, but the less stress you put on your mind and body, the better the chance of success.”

“I know, I’ll try. Thanks for coming. You know, you’re the only person in this whole place who has come to visit me. Pretty sad, huh? We’re all trying to be a part of something special but still don’t take the time to know anything about one another. We’ve been here, what, three months, and you’re the only person I know. And quite honestly, I don’t know much more than your name.” Nysa flinched at the observation. “What are you doing here? What’s your role in this grand scheme? Let’s hear the life and times of Dr. Nysa Knight.”

“Since you need some rest, I can help put you to sleep if you’d like.”

Jacqueline laughed. “Go on, let’s hear it. If it’s too boring, I promise I’ll go to sleep for you.”

Nysa rolled her eyes. She adjusted herself on the end of the bed and got comfortable. She told Jacqueline about growing up just outside Los Angeles. During her childhood, she had lived across the street from an orange grove. She had fond memories of the smell of orange blossoms as she ran through the trees playing hide and seek with friends. She had spent many an afternoon in those groves, running and laughing, throwing oranges at her older brother, having them thrown back harder.

There was a small shed at the back of the grove. Although she realized later on that it was for taxidermy, she and her brother had been convinced that it was the home of a werewolf. The various bones of small animals gave them all the proof they needed. This conclusion had been confirmed by many of the older kids in their neighborhood. Each told tales of how they had seen the werewolf wandering amongst the trees carrying small animals in its powerful jaws. Their descriptions of the werewolf had differed, leading Nysa and her brother to the conclusion that there were multiple animals.

How many nights had she stood in front of her bedroom window with her brother, straining to catch a glimpse of the creature? On evenings when they felt especially daring, they stood out in front of the house and opened their brand new pack of grape Bubblicious gum, which they had heard attracted the beast. They lingered in the yard chomping away, alert for the first signs of a werewolf so they could retreat back into the safety of their home. While they obviously had never spotted the werewolf, Nysa and her brother continued their commitment to the cause, purchasing grape gum at every opportunity. Their mother had even commented on their lack of variety at one point. What did she know?

Those innocent times had ended when she was ten years old. Nysa’s parents and brother had died in a car accident on the way home from a baseball game. Her brother had been selected for the All-Star team, and they had won their first game. While driving home, her father swerved in an unsuccessful attempt to avoid hitting a dog and drove off the side of the road into a canyon. According to the doctors, their deaths had been swift and painless. Nysa had not been with them as she had come down with a case of the flu and stayed home with a babysitter.

For years, she was consumed with survivor’s guilt. She went to live with her aunt and uncle and had gone through endless sessions with a therapist to work through her feelings. It had taken some time, but she had slowly moved on and had adjusted to her new environment. She was going to a new school, had made new friends, and was enjoying being a teenager.

As she progressed in high school, she realized her calling. She began taking the proper electives—A.P. Biology, Anatomy and Physiology, and Chemistry—to prepare her for a career in the medical field. This focus on her studies did not allow much time for extra-curricular activities, but she managed to maintain a few close friends that she hung out with on a regular basis. Nysa told Jacqueline of her acceptance to Stanford and career at UCLA.

While Nysa was discussing her undergraduate studies, Jacqueline appeared to lose a bit of interest put perked up as Nysa detailed her graduate work at UCLA, especially the coursework that had involved actual hospital work. Jacqueline interrupted periodically to ask questions about how Nysa felt about the things that she saw and how she thought it had affected her. After having to give some excruciating details about the injuries and illnesses she had seen, Nysa was able to wrap it up. “And as you say, the rest is history. Now get some rest. I’ll check on you later.” She stood up, stretched, and tucked the young woman into bed, much like a mother and her child.

The next day Nysa returned to the medical floor and escorted Jacqueline back to her room. They sat in the living room, watching chick-flicks and chatting. Nysa talked about Alastair and how horribly she missed him. She told Jacqueline about the party where they had met. Nysa revealed that she had indeed seen the bagpipes but had wanted to speak with Alastair so badly that she had sat down on them to catch his eye. Although it hadn’t gone quite how she had planned it in her mind, the end goal had been achieved.

She told Jacqueline about the box of letters she had left for him and her hope that he was enjoying them. Nysa even told her about the pictures she’d taken and left for him. Jacqueline was impressed at her boldness. Nysa wondered aloud if Alastair missed her as much as she did him. Jacqueline listened intently.

“I hope I can have that some day,” Jacqueline said. “I’ve never really been in love. I had a couple of boyfriends before the thing with my dad, but nothing serious. We’d hold hands and sometimes kiss, but it was really because I thought that’s what everyone did, not because I had any strong feelings for them. They were both cute guys, nice, but nothing like what I see when you talk about Alastair. You light up when you talk about him. What’s it like to be in love?”

“It’s the most wonderful feeling on earth. I’ve heard that ‘love adds a bright tomorrow, subtracts my bitter past, multiplies my happiness, and divides my burdening sorrow.’ I’m not quite sure where that came from, but I like it. Alastair helps me through my hard times, and when I have a good day I want to share it with him. Everything is sweeter when I share it with him, or less bitter, depending on the circumstances.”

“Must be nice,” Jacqueline interjected, sitting back with a sullen look on her face.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone who will be your Prince Charming. You just need to give it time. Just keep plugging along and have some fun. It usually happens when you least expect it. My advice is to never say ‘no’ to a first date. You may be surprised at how different someone can be outside of certain settings. Take work for example. Someone may be stuffy and dry at work, but fun and exciting if you can get him out of a suit and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Come to think of it, just the out-of-the-suit part would probably do the trick.” Nysa winked at Jacqueline and the younger woman giggled. “But seriously, just let it happen and it will.”

“Thank you,” Jacqueline said and leaned back in her chair. Nysa followed suit and they finished watching You’ve Got Mail in silence.

After the movie, Nysa returned to her room and climbed into bed. The romantic comedy, while funny, brought back memories of Alastair and made her miss him all the more. Her mind drifted back to one of the last nights they’d spent together. She fell asleep thinking of that night and relived it in her dreams.

After a busy day at the labs, Nysa hurried home get ready to go out to dinner and an AA meeting with Alastair. She normally didn’t go to meetings with him, but he was a speaker tonight and wanted her to be there. Moving quickly, she pulled off her work outfit and, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, decided to change out of her current undergarments and into something a bit more sexy. After digging through her drawers, she decided on a matching pink bra and thong set. She hoped Alastair would be able to appreciate how good she looked in them later on in the evening. Nysa then ran back to her closet and picked out a nice summer dress and sandals to wear. She loved living in Southern California where she could get away with that type of outfit during the middle of winter. Alastair arrived just as she put her shoes on and they headed out for dinner at Benihana’s in the Valley before going to Alastair’s meeting in Woodland Hills.

Nysa watched him as he made his way through the room, saying hello to his friends, and introducing himself to the newcomers. He always looked so handsome. Not that he was model good-looking, but certainly on that side of average. He had a strong jaw and sharp features, but mostly it was the way he carried himself. He now stood speaking with a man Nysa had never seen before, a man who towered over him physically, but Nysa couldn’t help but notice Alastair dominated the scene. His persona made him larger than life. She watched how animated he was in his discussion, pointing, gesturing, and leaning toward and away from his companion. She could see that whatever Alastair was saying was getting through. The stranger was nodding in agreement and smiling. The conversation finally ended and Alastair continued his rounds, pausing briefly and smiling at her when he realized she was watching him. She smiled and waved, impressed with his confidence. Alastair would have been fairly plain had it not been for his quick smile and even quicker wit. That’s what had attracted her to him. Despite the problems that grew with alcoholism, he was a very confident, self-assured man. He knew when a joke was appropriate and when it wasn’t. People seemed to be unconsciously attracted to him. Not in a sexual way; they just seemed to gravitate to him. He had a knack for making people feel good about themselves. His blue eyes were penetrating and his quick smile was disarming. Nysa felt it was simply impossible to dislike him.

At break, she went outside with everybody. She had a cup of coffee, as did everyone, but she passed on the cigarettes. She’d been smoking too much recently and her lungs felt congested. She mingled with the familiar faces, pausing to say hi to Bryan, Alastair’s sponsor, and making sure to take a moment to introduce herself to the newcomers and welcome them to the meeting. There was plenty of chatter and laughing as she wandered around saying hello. When everyone headed back inside to listen to the guest speakers, the patio was covered in more smoke than the field at the Battle of Gettysburg.

His story was inspiring as she knew it would be. He spoke of the nights of blacking out, not knowing what he had done or where he had been the previous evening. He told of his nights in jail, his DUIs, having to get friends to bail him out, to drive him to and from work when his license was suspended. He was forthcoming about his bedwetting when he was really plastered. Nysa was always shocked when she heard him tell anyone of these occurrences. Then he shared his story of recovery and the incredible cravings he had overcome. As he spoke, she noticed that he made eye contact with each of the newcomers that had introduced themselves at the beginning of the meeting. It was as if he were speaking only to them. A few shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, but she could see that he had their undivided attention. If he only got through to one, she knew he would be satisfied, but she felt he might get two or three with this one.

They climbed into bed that night and made love with a passion they had never experienced before. With the finality of her decision hitting home, they both were more tender, more focused on the other than they had ever been previously. Knowing that they would be apart for so long sweetened the experience beyond measure. Her orgasm seemed to reach every nerve ending in her body. Alastair followed soon after with his own release, crying out in an explosion of ecstasy. They held each other for a long while that night, basking in their mutual bliss.

Nysa smiled and moaned softly in her sleep, rolled onto her side, and drifted off further into the landscape of her subconscious.

May 9, Los Angeles, CA

Alastair sat looking at the phone after his conversation with his father. He couldn’t believe how the conversation had gone. The beginning had been pleasant enough, hearing about what was going on back in Grapeland, Texas, and telling his father of his recent successes at work. How the conversation had turned to the current events and how they might or might not relate to the Bible, Alastair couldn’t remember. His father had become so passionate Alastair had threatened to hang up on him if he didn’t change the topic. The remainder of the conversation had been feeble and dry, both of them realizing they wouldn’t be able to get back the lighthearted tone the conversation had once held. Although he didn’t believe a word of what his dad had said about the relationship between current events and events foretold in the Bible, Alastair slowly rose from the couch and walked back through the apartment to the bedroom to retrieve a Bible he kept in his nightstand. As he began reading the book of Revelations, a cold chill ran up his spine.

As it turns out, my plan is going to require a lot more time and resources than I originally anticipated. The technology simply isn’t there yet. However, with the rapid pace at which the biotechnology field is advancing, I believe I will be able to begin my project within the next decade. The money shouldn’t be a problem; I have more than enough. While waiting for science to advance to where I need it to be, I will begin slowly moving money into the States and making preparations. I want the facilities to be ready when the time comes.

May 12, Los Angeles, CA

“You’re pathetic.”

“What?” Alastair glanced up from his computer.

“It’s the weekend, for crying out loud. What are you doing sitting here in this stuffy office? It’s called a work week for a reason. You work during the week and in case you haven’t noticed, most people take Saturday and Sunday off. Go to the beach, or Disneyland, or Knott’s Berry Farm. Anything but sitting in an office plugging away on a computer. How much of a loser can you be?” Suzy smirked and sat down on the edge of his desk. She had been promoted when their previous manager had left to go to work for Intel, and she had been his direct boss for a little over six months now.

Although he had seniority over her at the time of the promotion and had been more than qualified for the position, he didn’t resent her success as she was highly capable and easy to work for. She had paid her dues with the company, put in longer hours (except for recently when Alastair had no desire to go home), and was well spoken.

“Interesting analysis of my character. However, your assessment leaves out one very important detail.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re here, too. I wonder what that says about you? With you being my boss and all, would that make you the senior loser?” Alastair leaned back in his chair and turned to face Suzy. “Nysa’s out of town. What’s your excuse?”

“Big presentation next week. Ironing out all the wrinkles—dotting my Ts and crossing my Is,” she said with a grin. “I need a break though; my eyes won’t focus any more. You want to grab a bite with me?” She stood. “We can stop on the way back and pick up some new pocket protectors and some tape for our glasses? C’mon, it’ll be fun. I’ll even buy you the white tape. I know it’s your favorite.”

Alastair did need a break and agreed to join her for lunch. Their conversation was random but interesting. While Alastair had known the contents of her resume—valedictorian in high school, summa cum laude in college, followed by a rapid rise up the corporate ladder—he was surprised by what he discovered of her personal life. She was single and spent most of her free time volunteering at Alateen meetings and conventions. She had grown up in an alcoholic home and while she had no children of her own, Suzy felt compelled to help having gone through the turmoil that surrounded alcoholism.

She was also an avid reader, and Alastair couldn’t help but smile when he learned her favorite author was J.K. Rowling. Who would have thought someone her age and who was a computer geek like him would be so enthralled with a boy wizard and his adventures?

They wrapped up their conversation and lunch. Alastair agreed to let Suzy foot the bill as long as he could cover the tip. They left the restaurant and headed back to the office to finish up and go home for the weekend.

May 24,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

The atmosphere at the facility had been festive for the last month. While technicians were breaking down and removing equipment, the doctors and assistants were left with little to do. Many spent their time touring the facility, going to the gym, running outside, and getting massages. While everyone missed their friends and family, most were content to wait and see the results of their efforts. With the end in sight, the complaints were few and far between.

Jacqueline was being treated like a princess throughout the compound. Those who had ignored her very existence for the last four months were now going out of their way to speak to and help her. Everyone knew that the new life created was growing inside her and that, with the birth of the child, a new chapter in the history of mankind would begin.

Nysa spent some of her time overseeing the final preservation and storage procedures for the remaining DNA. One day as she worked, a technician coming through the lab door with the remaining samples slipped on a small puddle of water. He stumbled into a nearby table and smashed his face into the edge of the counter. The blood was immediate and voluminous. He lay on the floor unconscious as the blood pooled around his head. Nysa tended to the man while Laura called the medical unit to respond, stabilize him, and transport him upstairs.

Next they had been concerned about contamination of the samples. Luckily, all of the packing was still intact as was the reconstructed DNA. The facilities team arrived shortly thereafter and cleaned up the mess. As it turned out, the drywall had been screwed into a pipe in error and over time, the screw slowly rusted away. It had just now finally begun to leak. The area was blocked off until a plumber could be called in to fix the pipe.

Nysa heard later that the young man was in stable condition, but he’d suffered a severe concussion and a nasty cut that had required close to 100 stitches to close.

Most of Nysa’s time was spent with Jacqueline. Over the last month they had become very close friends. She accompanied Jacqueline to all of her appointments. According to the doctor, the baby now had a regular heartbeat, the eyes and ears were developing, and the arms and legs were beginning to grow. Nysa was so caught up in the pregnancy, she sometimes felt as if she herself was the one who was carrying the developing child.

They chatted about nothing and everything: hopes, regrets, likes, and dislikes. They spoke of their plans for life after leaving the facility and promised to stay in touch with one another.

June 8, Los Angeles, CA

Alastair had managed to keep himself busier than usual over the last two weeks. Suzy’s presentation had gone well, and they had gotten the contract. That was great, but the brunt of the work had fallen into Alastair’s lap. He hadn’t complained about it though. It was a great distraction and would help him immensely down the road.

He was also glad that Suzy put so much faith in his skills. The work should have been divided up among two or three people, but she had said he was the best man for the job and, at this point, long hours were not necessarily a bad thing. So she dumped the workload in his lap, telling him to let her know if it became too overwhelming. His AA meetings were the only personal activity not cut out of his schedule.

He decided to call it an early evening on Friday and arrived home shortly after eight o’clock with McDonald’s in tow. Nothing like a couple of cheeseburgers, large fries, and a large Coke to get your Friday night off on the right foot, he thought as he threw in a movie and sat down on the couch to rot his brain as well as his gut. It was a personal favorite of his, The Bourne Identity, and he enjoyed every minute.

After the movie ended, he went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. As he brushed his teeth, the DVD player turned off automatically and the television switched over to the cable signal. He couldn’t quite tell what the story was, but caught bits and pieces. It had something to do with volcanoes. He had always been intrigued by volcanic eruptions, so he walked into the living room while continuing to brush his teeth.

According to the anchor, news was pouring in from all over the world reporting new volcanic activity. Not all were eruptions, but volcanoes which had been dormant for centuries were beginning to rumble and groan as well. From small Hawaiian eruptions to the much larger ultraplinian eruptions, volcanoes (some unknown until that day), were spewing lava, ash, lapilli, carbon dioxide, and sulfur dioxide into the air. There had not been any reports of casualties, but the anchor promised to keep the viewing audience up to date as information continued to come in.

The next story was the latest update on the skin condition that seemed to be tied to the meteorite that had hit in Mississippi. The CDC announced that the meteorite appeared to have released a virus of some sort. They were currently working with hospitals worldwide to monitor the progression of the virus as well as studying the properties of the virus for possible vaccinations. Until such time as a vaccine could be developed, they were also looking for ways to treat the sometimes excruciating symptoms. Alastair shifted uneasily to his other foot, concerned about Nysa and her whereabouts. He didn’t want to overanalyze the situation, but would feel much better if he knew she was OK.

The news anchor then moved on to the latest school shooting, child molestation, and serial rapist. Alastair turned off the television, finished getting ready for bed, and climbed under the covers with his laptop. He figured images of Nysa doing interesting things to herself would make for exciting dreams. He was wrong. He woke up covered in sweat and feeling terrible. He couldn’t remember his dreams, but had a lingering feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

June 29,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

The last of the technicians rushed across the room toward the elevator. Nysa watched as he kicked a leg of one of the tables and tripped. It all happened as if in slow motion. He reached out to try and catch himself. He stumbled and landed squarely on the next table. Unfortunately, that table was covered in beakers and test tubes. The glass shattered at the impact. He lifted himself weakly from the table, shards of glass protruding from each of his wrists. The blood flowed slowly down his arms, dripping onto his white shoes as he gazed at them in amazement. Crimson circles spread on the floor around him as he turned toward Nysa and finally crumpled to the floor.

Nysa ran to one of the phones and called the extension for the medical facilities. Laura was already treating the technician when Nysa returned to where he had fallen. She was in the process of examining the wounds to see if she could remove the glass without causing further damage or opening up the wound and making the bleeding worse. The medical team arrived within seconds and transported the man up to the medical facilities.A short while later, a couple of young women arrived to clean up the broken glass and blood. Nysa, Laura, and Mary Alice watched in silence as the women completed their work. Bloody water dripped off the end of the mop every time the woman rinsed it in the bucket. Nysa stared, but Mary Alice turned away.

They spent a short time discussing what had just happened. Nysa called upstairs and was assured that the technician would be fine. Although the glass shards had punctured through both of his wrists, by some miracle they had missed all major arteries and ligaments.

Nysa, Mary Alice and Laura decided to get back to the task at hand. Later, they made a brief stop at the medical facilities to check on the injured technician and found him to be in decent spirits given what had happened to him. He thanked them for their help before the medical team arrived. Nysa assured him that they were glad they could help, but she shook her head in silent amazement that the young man was alive.

The team I have assembled is the finest in the world. Their work is coming along just as I expected it to, minus a few unfortunate occurrences. If they only knew the power in their hands. Is it wrong of me to take so much pleasure in having recruited my surrogate mother from one of the finest Catholic universities in the world? Who would have guessed that the mother that will deliver us into the new era of mankind would be a virgin girl from Notre Dame? I relish the thought that the Church still has no idea what I have done, nor what I am currently doing. I should like to request an audience with the Pope to fill him in on my current activities. The thought of the look on his face always makes me smile. I will hold off on this desire as he will know what I have done soon enough.

July 20,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

At her thirteen-week appointment, Jacqueline received some exciting news. The baby was a boy. She hadn’t been sure she wanted to find out before the birth, but in the end she had to know. A son. She was going to have a son. She would be able to teach him how to be a real man, and how to treat a woman right. She knew she would be a much better parent than her parents ever were. She would love and adore him every day of her life and was already willing to sacrifice that for him should the need arise. The doctor had removed a printout of the ultrasound from his pocket and pointed out in the lower left corner of the picture an image he was quite sure was a penis developing between the baby’s legs.

Jacqueline and Nysa bounced around the room like little girls who have just been given a pony. There were squeals and laughter, tears and hugging. The doctor merely stood quietly until they brought themselves under control and sat down for the rest of the evaluation. The baby was developing very well. He was just over three inches long, his red blood cell count was good, and he seemed to be fairly active for his age. They did another ultrasound and the doctor handed over the most recent picture. Looking at the photo that the doctor had taken, they caught another case of the giggles when Nysa pointed out it looked like the baby was signaling a successful field goal.

August 20,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

The excitement around the facility continued to spread as Jacqueline started to grow out of her regular outfits. Jacqueline was especially excited as she had been provided with an entirely new wardrobe to accommodate her growing belly. She had so many new outfits she didn’t think she’d get a chance to wear them all. As she outgrew certain sizes, she packed away the too-small pieces in the hopes of taking them home with her and donating the almost-new maternity clothing to a battered women’s shelter near her house. She figured it was the least she could do. Her entire pregnancy, delivery, and future life were being funded by someone else, as best she could tell. This way she could share the wealth a little.

Her checkup went well. The baby was now about five inches long and weighed approximately five ounces, according to the doctor. The baby happened to be quite active during the appointment, giving the doctor fits as he tried to obtain adequate ultrasound images during his examination. Nysa sat close by, seemingly captivated by the obstetrician’s every word. When it came time to listen to the heartbeat, both Jacqueline and Nysa cried softly. Jacqueline’s heart almost burst with love for this tiny life. The heartbeat was fast and regular, more of a swishing sound than the traditional thump-thump. The doctor explained to Jacqueline that what they were hearing was entirely normal, and that he was encouraged by the strength of both the heartbeat and the baby’s movements. Jacqueline and Nysa left the room giddy with joy.

August 27, Los Angeles, CA

“How’s life treating you, old man?” Alastair joked when he heard the phone picked up.

“Not well, Alastair. It’s the dawning of revelations.”

“What?” Alastair was shocked at his father’s remark. He had always been religious, but this was too much.

“The End of Days. The seals are being broken, the trumpets sounded.”

“That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think? You sound like you should be out on the street, standing on a soapbox with a microphone.”

“I didn’t see it either until recently. Now it all makes sense. Have you seen the name given to the meteorite by the Chinese?”

“No,” replied Alastair. “And I really don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Wormwood. That’s a loose translation, but it’s Wormwood. It’s the third trumpet. A meteor called Wormwood. ‘And the third angel sounded, and a great star fell from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers and on the springs of waters; and the name of the star is called Wormwood; and a third of the waters became wormwood; and many men died from the waters, because they were made bitter.’ That’s Revelations, chapter 8, verses ten and eleven.”

“So they called it Wormwood. Why does that mean the world is coming to an end? As far as I can tell the waters are fine. I’m having a glass right now,” Alastair teased. “Besides, I heard it hit a city called Harbin.”

“That’s what the reports say, and the Chinese government isn’t saying much else. But the other signs are there, too. The first trumpet, fire. We had those real bad fires in the southwest, Asia, and South America.”

Alastair interrupted his father before he could really get started. “Dad, stop it. There are fires all the time. I’m not going to drop everything and run around spewing talk about the end of the world because of a couple of careless hikers dropped a cigarette, or whatever caused the fires. We don’t live in the dark ages. Get a grip. Maybe you should skip your sermons on Revelations.”

“Believe what you will Alastair, but be ready when Judgment Day comes. It’s not far off.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Alastair replied impatiently. “I’ve gotta go, Dad. Take a break from the Bible and go read something more light-hearted, like The Stand maybe. Bye, Dad. Talk to you soon.”

“Suit yourself, but you should get to church regardless of whether or not you believe me.”

Alastair hung up the phone and stood staring at it. His dad had lost it. He’d obviously spent too much time preparing for his sermons on Revelations and was now reading the Apocalypse into everything going on around him. Even though he didn’t buy into what his father was trying to tell him, the conversation nagged at him. Did his father believe that the Bible was to be taken literally? There was surely some imagery, and it could be interpreted differently in parts depending on who you asked.

Alastair pushed the thoughts from his mind. He’d given up religion long ago. Now was not the time to explore his philosophical beliefs. Maybe he should fly out and visit his father, help him get a grip on reality. He’d check into that possibility later with his boss, Suzy, and see if she’d give him the time off. Until then, he would occupy his weekend with video games and old movies. He’d just picked up the newest version of “Halo” and intended to beat the game before going back to work.

So close now. I will be able to rest soon enough, but now I must push them even harder to ensure success. Failure is not an option. I have too much invested in this now. I have built my hopes up too high, I know, but my grandest scheme yet is so close to fruition. However, it seems as though someone is working against me. Who could know the true actual intent of my project? Nobody has been made aware of the true nature of my plan. There are far too many accidents occurring for me to pass them off as mere coincidences. I must put my security team on heightened alert for any suspicious behavior. I cannot allow anyone to derail my plans when I am so close to the end.

September 3, Los Angeles, CA

Alastair hummed to himself as he walked down the hall to Suzy’s office. He knocked lightly, opened the door, and poked his head in. Suzy was sitting stiffly at her desk, a crease between her brows from either concentration or frustration; Alastair couldn’t tell which.

“Good morning, Suzy. I was wondering if I could pester you for a minute.”

“Come on in, Alastair, and take a seat. How can I help you?”

“I was wondering if I could take some vacation time in the not too distant future. I’d like to go visit my Dad. He’s been huddled up in his house by himself for too long apparently. I’d like to go drag him outside and let him get some fresh air. To be honest, I could use some myself.”

“When were you thinking of going and for how long?” she inquired.

Alastair frowned.

“I just want to make sure it doesn’t conflict with some of the other vacations that have already been scheduled,” she added.

“If there’s nothing pressing in the workload, how about I take next week off?”

“I don’t see anything we can’t handle while you’re gone. Take it, and go get rested up. You’ve been working like a dog these past six months. I think it’s a great idea. Get some R and R. When you get back, I’ll put you back on the chain gang.” She gave him a quick wink. “Anything else?”

“You need any help with what you’re working on there? When I came in you looked a bit tense.”

“No, but thanks. I’m just trying to keep my eyes focused until the coffee kicks in. Late night, early morning. You know how it is.”

“All right,” Alastair replied. “Let me know if you change your mind. Thanks, Suzy.” He left her office and strolled back to his computer to book his trip. As he was flying on short notice, the ticket to Houston cost him an arm and a leg. He’d considered driving, but with the current price of gas, that would have cost him both arms and both legs. He bought the ticket and reserved a car. Having completed absolutely none of his work thus far, he decided that now would be a good time to take a break and head downstairs for a cigarette.

The week passed quickly, His time at home was spent packing and getting everything in order for his vacation. He barely had time to do all of the bills and filter through all of the junk mail that arrived on a daily basis. He didn’t mind though; the busy schedule helped keep his mind off of how much he missed Nysa. He’d already gone through half of the letters in the box she left, and he wasn’t sure he was halfway through her absence. So he immersed himself in his work and vacation preparations and by the time he was ready to leave for the airport, he had gone the whole week without opening one of her letters and was still feeling great.

He looked forward to seeing his father. It had been a couple of years since they had last seen one another. Alastair felt guilty for not calling ahead and telling his father of his plans to come visit, but he didn’t want to have another conversation on the phone about the impending fall of man. He would deal with that issue when he arrived.

September 10,

Somewhere over New Mexico

Alastair relaxed and stared out the window of the airplane. What a beautiful day, he thought. The clouds outside were large and puffy, cotton balls floating lazily across the blue sky. The land below was gorgeous, a vibrant combination of reds, browns, and greens. He leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and thought of how wonderful it was to be alive. He was sober, had a great job, good friends, and although he hadn’t seen or spoken to her recently, the greatest fiancée on the planet. As his mind drifted, he slowly dozed off to the low growl of the engines.

The bump of the tires touching down in Houston woke Alastair from his nap. The good feelings he had fallen asleep with had permeated his dreams and held fast when he awoke. He felt great. He was well-rested and looking forward to a week of hanging out with his dad. Even his father’s recent behavior could not dampen his mood as he practically skipped off of the plane.

After retrieving his luggage, Alastair headed over to the car rental booth and picked up a car. The thought of having to ask his dad to borrow the car again once he got to Grapeland had made the decision to rent an easy one. He picked up his little economy car, pulled out of the parking lot, and hit the open road. He relished the sights and sounds he had left so long ago. The quaint little ranch homes, the cows and horses, and the smell of manure made him a bit nostalgic. The drive would take him a few hours, so he settled in, found a nice country music station, and made the most of it.

It was dusk when he arrived at his father’s ranch. The sun was setting gently behind the house as Alastair entered the unpaved driveway. He drove carefully, trying to ease the small car over the channels created by the spring rain runoff. Dust kicked up by the tires formed a small cloud that followed him up the drive to the house. The crunching of the tires on the dirt and gravel had announced his arrival. When he at last pulled up in front of the house, his father was already standing on the porch. As Alastair climbed out of the car, his father came down the steps, a smile creeping slowly across his face.

“Bless my soul, look what the cat dragged in,” Carl said. “I thought for sure it was another one of them insurance salesmen, salespersons, whatever it is they call themselves these days. To what do I owe this honor?”

“Good to see you, Dad. I just wanted to drop in and spend some time out of the city, visiting with my father. I don’t want to be a burden, so if I showed up at a bad time I can find a place to stay in town.”

“Heavens, no!” his dad replied. “Now come inside before the mosquitoes eat us alive. They’re as big as Apache helicopters this time of year and are almost as deadly, West Nile virus and all. Come on, I just made a fresh pitcher of lemonade. What do you say we go in and have us a tall one?” His dad dropped him a wink.

“On the rocks,” Alastair shot back as he grabbed his bags and followed his father into the house. It was nice that they were out of the awkward stage that had followed Alastair’s sobriety. Nobody had seemed to know quite how to act. Could they drink in front of him? When the guys went out after work for a beer, should they invite him?

He dropped his luggage in his old bedroom, which had since been converted to the guest room. His father had done a really nice job with it. He had repainted and added new furniture when Alastair took his bed and desk to college, but he’d also left a few of Alastair’s trophies and pictures up, just to keep that feeling of family alive. Alastair smiled to himself and made his way back to the kitchen. His dad sat waiting at the table with two large glasses of lemonade, ice clinking in the bottoms.

“So, how’s life in the big city treating you?” Carl asked as he sat down.

“Can’t complain.” Alastair replied. “The job is going well.”

“And what of your lovely fiancée?”

“She’s still out doing her thing. I wish I had some idea of when she’s coming home. It’s the not knowing that’s the hardest. Even if she wasn’t coming home for three years, at least I could mark it on the calendar. Or if I could talk to her every now and then, I’d be okay with that, too. Oh well,” he sighed, “at least I know she’s safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“Well, the tsunami and volcanoes for starters. After I heard about the tsunami I…um…did a little investigative work to find out where she went.”

Alastair’s dad frowned but didn’t pursue the obvious question raised by Alastair’s statement. “And where did she go?”

“Best I can tell somewhere around Colorado Springs. That’s where her flight landed anyway. Being that it was a private jet, I don’t see any reason they would connect to anywhere from there rather then flying direct.”

“Hmm, and during your ‘investigative work,’ did you happen to find out what the secret project is?”

“No.” Alastair replied. “I just wanted to make sure she was safe. I did. That’s enough. Investigating isn’t my thing anymore. It was an emergency so I did what I had to do, no more.”

“Very good.” Carl smiled. “Good to hear. What else is going on in your life? Have you been to church?”

“Not this again, Dad. The world is not ending. It’s just a couple of fires. You sound like Chicken Little, for crying out loud.”

“For your information, it’s much more than fires. By the way, did you hear the newest on China? Seems that the meteorite hit a chemical weapons plant just outside Harbin. Of course the Chinese are denying the existence of such a plant, but the fact remains that downriver from Harbin some very bad things have been happening. One might say the waters have turned bitter.”

Alastair sat looking at his father. Although this was a discussion he did not wish to pursue, he could see the sincerity in his father’s eyes. “Go on,” was all he could say. What he’d actually wanted to say was something along the lines of “Let’s get this over with.”

He could see the spark in his dad’s eyes burst into flame.

“We’ve just about covered the third trumpet, or sign, if you want to call it that instead. So let’s go back to the first. The first trumpet is fires. ‘A third of the earth was burned up, and a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up.’ I don’t know how much actually burned, but do you remember the big fires we had in February?”

“Yes,” Alastair replied warily. His eyes were drifting from his father to the clock. How much longer can he ramble on? he thought to himself.

“Just wait, it gets better.”

I hope so, thought Alastair, taking a sip of lemonade.

“The second sign, and I’ll quote: ‘Something like a great mountain burning with fire was thrown into the sea; and a third of the sea became blood.’ Remind you of anything?”

Alastair squirmed in his chair. “A great mountain burning with fire” was dangerously close to what had caused the tsunami. Alastair’s pulse quickened and his palms began to sweat. He took a long drink from his glass and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

His father continued. “We’ve already been over the third sign, the meteorite Wormwood and bitter waters. The fourth sign, according to the Bible, is that ‘a third of the sun and a third of the moon and a third of the stars were smitten, so that a third of them might be darkened and the day might not shine for a third of it, and the night the same way.’”

“I have no idea what that’s even supposed to mean, Dad.”

“Think back. What has happened recently that cast darkness over the earth?” His father leaned forward, watching eagerly as Alastair made the connection.

“The double eclipse.” Alastair felt like he was going to vomit. His mouth filled with saliva and he was suddenly hot and cold at the same time. He felt his stomach clench and fought the contents of his stomach back down. Wiping the sudden sheet of sweat from his forehead, he set his glass on the table and took a deep breath. It could all be coincidence, or it could actually be the end of mankind. Much to his dismay, Alastair was now being drawn into believing it was the latter of the two.

“The fifth sign is about locusts unleashed to torment mankind, to torture them with suffering like scorpion stings. I know it’s not spot on with the ‘skin condition’ the CDC is talking about, but it’s close enough for me.”

Alastair reached into his pocket and took out his cigarettes. If there was one occasion when a cigarette was necessary, it was when you realize the world could be coming to an end. “Let’s step outside so I can smoke this,” Alastair told his dad as he rose from his chair and grabbed his lemonade. His dad got up and followed him out onto the porch. Alastair leaned against a post, lit his cancer stick, and looked out across the fields. His father sat behind him. Alastair took a deep drag off of his cigarette and mumbled, “I don’t know, Dad. It all seems so crazy. How could this be happening?”

“I don’t know, but it is. We have to get ready.”

“It’s just a book. A good book, but a book nonetheless.”

Carl leaned forward. “It’s not a good book, it’s The Good Book. I don’t know how or why this is happening, but how can you deny what’s been going on? It can’t be a mere coincidence.”

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It rarely does.”

“I don’t know. If this is what you think it is, what now?”

“Well, the sixth sign refers to…”

“That’s not what I mean,” Alastair interrupted. “How do we stop it? Can we stop it?” Alastair turned to face his father. “Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t think so.” His father sighed. “As far as I can tell, once it starts it proceeds all the way through. If you want any kind of silver lining, I’ve been studying up on it over the last few months and haven’t seen anything that shows a timeframe. For all I know it could be another thousand years before the seventh sign occurs.”

“I can’t take that chance.” Alastair sat down next to his father. “I need to find Nysa. I have to find her. If the world really is ending, I want to be with her when it happens.”

Carl’s expression was kind. “How do you plan to do that? You can’t just go to Colorado Springs and start knocking on doors. Outside of the obvious fact that the city is too big, if this project is so secret, you won’t be able to just knock and waltz in.”

“I don’t know,” Alastair answered. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “I just don’t know.”

September 11, Grapeland, TX

Alastair awoke. He heard noises coming from the kitchen below so he knew his father was already awake. He headed downstairs for breakfast.

“Good morning,” Alastair said as he entered the warmth of the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to stretch and allow his eyes to adjust to the sunlight that filled the room.

“I was thinking last night before I went to bed,” his father began.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Alastair quipped. He fell silent at Carl’s deadpan face.

“I was thinking that I want to come with you to look for Nysa. Your mother is already with the Lord waiting for us. If the end is nearing, you are the one I would most like to be with, and who knows, maybe I can help. Can I come?” Carl’s tone was casual, but Alastair detected some underlying emotion, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

Alastair went to his father and hugged him. “Of course, Dad.”

After a moment, Alastair stepped back and turned to help make breakfast. He didn’t want his father to see the tears in his eyes. It hadn’t occurred to Alastair until he hugged his dad that Carl had been alone for all these years. Alastair’s mother and little brother had died during childbirth not long after Alastair was born. The loss had devastated his father, but together they had gotten through it.

After Alastair had left home though, the house had been empty but for his father. It dawned on Alastair that this was a man who was facing the end of the world and just wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder with his son when it happened. Alastair was honored and needed a second to pull himself together.

“I was trying to figure out how to find Nysa last night,” Alastair said as he chopped some tomatoes for their omelets. “The only lead I can come up with is the phone number for the lawyer. If we can get to him, we might be able to find out where the facility is located.”

“Give him a call,” replied his father. “No time to waste if we’re right about what’s going on.”

“It’s on my desk at home,” answered Alastair sheepishly.

“After breakfast I’ll call the airport and book the next flight back to L.A. for us. You pack.”

“Are you sure?” asked Alastair. “Today?”

“Absolutely. We’ve got to move as fast as possible. No point in sitting around here to come up with a game plan. We can think it up as we go along. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of downtime in the near future.”

They ate breakfast in silence, each thinking about the road before them. When they finished, they piled the dishes in the sink and went about their preparations to leave. Alastair hadn’t really unpacked the night before, so he did the dishes while his father finished up with the airlines and packed his own bag.

“The next flight we can make leaves in four and a half hours. We’re going to be on it. Let’s go.” Carl walked out the front door. Alastair dried his hands on the kitchen towel, grabbed his luggage, and followed.

The drive and flight were uneventful, with the exception of almost missing the boarding call. They had had to do a bit of running, but in the end they had managed to board. Their pace picked up upon landing in L.A. as they now had a goal, something that could lead them to Nysa.

Alastair drove as fast as he dared out of LAX and up the 405 freeway. As they pulled into his parking spot, Alastair’s pulse quickened, feeling that he was finally doing something, rather than just sitting and watching. He and his father moved briskly up the front steps and to the front door of the apartment. Alastair fumbled with his key in his haste to unlock it. He finally got it in, turned the key, and opened the door. Alastair walked through the living room and proceeded immediately to the desk as his father took a look around the room.

He watched as Carl examined the pictures on the wall of Alastair and Nysa in Venice Beach. Picking up the phone, he dialed the only number he could think of that might lead him to his fiancé.

“Hello, Mr. Stevens?”

“Yes, may I ask who’s calling?”

“My name is Alastair Mann, I’m Dr. Nysa Knight’s fiancé.”

“How can I help you today, Mr. Mann?”

“I know this is an unusual request, but I need to find Nysa. Do you know how I can get a hold of her?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mann, but I’m not allowed to give out that information. I’m sure she told you that she would be allowed no contact outside the facility until the project was completed.”

“She did,” Alastair replied, “and I wouldn’t call if this weren’t an emergency. I have to see her.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. When the project is complete, I will let her know you want her to call. That’s the best I can do. Goodbye, Mr. Mann.”

Alastair heard the click of the line being disconnected. He set the phone down and looked over at his father.

“No luck, huh?”

“He said he’d tell her to call me when the project was finished.”

“It’s off to Colorado Springs then,” his father replied.

Alastair looked at him questioningly.

“We’re already packed and at least it’ll get us closer to her. I’m not saying we’ll find her right away, but it’ll certainly be faster than looking from L.A.”

They hopped the first flight to Colorado Springs they could find out of LAX. With nowhere to go upon arrival, they checked into a cheap hotel and tried to relax and get a good night’s sleep, for they both knew a long and difficult journey lay ahead.

We should know very soon if the latest attempt was a success. There is still time for setbacks, but with each failure we are a step closer to my goal. Now it is just a waiting game. Despite yet another “accident” that almost ruined them, the excess samples have been taken to the vault in case of a catastrophe. Only at the completion of the project will the samples be destroyed. I have invested too much in their acquisition. Once the process is complete there will be no need for them. The staff continues to be in high spirits as they get closer to the historic moment. Little do they know how historic it will be. The entire world will be aware of their accomplishment. They seem to know I have come to the facility, but I must be careful of who sees me. Some very difficult questions would be asked if I were to encounter the wrong person. For now, I will continue to isolate myself in my suite and bask in the glory of what is to come.

September 15,

Colorado Springs, CO

Alastair and Carl’s first three days in Colorado Springs had been extremely unsuccessful. They had visited the airport to try to get any information that might give them a clue as to where Nysa headed after landing, but found nothing. They checked with the ticketing agents, flight attendants, pilots—anyone who seemed to work in or around the airport. Either nobody knew anything, or they just weren’t saying. Regardless, it left Alastair and his father blindly chasing their tails.

Alastair called his boss at work and requested an extended leave of absence due to family problems that he didn’t care to discuss. Suzy approved his request, asking only that he check in from time to time and let her know as soon as possible when he would be able to report back to work. The work was starting to back up and while it wasn’t causing any problems yet, she could use his help as soon as he could make it back into the office. Alastair had agreed, thanking her for her understanding.

Bad news continued to filter in from around the world. Cleanup on the Eastern Seaboard and across the Atlantic Ocean revealed that the “worst case” estimates weren’t quite bad enough. Property damage and human casualty numbers climbed on an almost hourly basis. The contaminated river in China had devastated cities and villages downstream, the various toxins resulting in countless deaths and illnesses. Last, but certainly not least, the mysterious skin problem in Mississippi, whether of biblical or earthly origin, continued to spread rapidly.

So Alastair and his father continued working the airport. Day after day they left tired and frustrated, having achieved nothing, returning to their small motel to get some rest before repeating the cycle the next day.

September 21,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

Jacqueline had finally felt the baby kick. She’d been waiting impatiently for just that moment. She had immediately called Nysa to come see if she could feel it as well. Although Nysa had felt nothing, the moment was a special one for both of them. Nysa took the opportunity to have some sparkling cider sent down to celebrate the occasion. The two women opened the bottle and made a toast to the little one. They had spent the remainder of the evening laughing and making up bizarre names for the baby. Engelbert Humperdink, although previously taken, had taken top spot on the list, followed closely by Hans von Guber Poopy Pants and Alfonso Rodriquez Gomez Sanchez Domingo de San Francisco.

At the appointment the next day, the twenty-second week of her pregnancy, the doctor was pleased to hear about the baby’s kicking, but after the conversation turned to the potential names he cut them short and brought them back to the business at hand. The pregnancy was now roughly half over. The baby was approximately eight inches long and weighed one pound. The baby was most likely able to hear at this point, as his ears where almost developed, and probably had regular sleep cycles.

“Will he be able to hear if I sing to him?” Jacqueline asked.

“Of course. He’s inside you so he can hear everything you say and quite a bit of what goes on around you. He probably already recognizes your voice.” The doctor turned to Nysa. “You can sing to him, too, if you’d like. I normally encourage the father to participate, but due to the unusual circumstances surrounding this pregnancy, I’d say you’re the closest thing to it.”

Nysa looked questioningly at Jacqueline. “I think that’s a great idea, if you’d like.” Jacqueline smiled. “After we get out of here I hope you stay close with me and the baby. I’ve been doing some thinking and was hoping you’d be his godmother.”

“I’d love to!” Nysa leaned over and hugged her friend.

“I hate to interrupt the party, ladies, but to summarize, I think we have a very healthy baby and mother. Keep eating a balanced diet and exercising, Jacqueline. Everything is coming along perfectly. See you next time.” The doctor turned and left the room, leaving the two women chatting while Jacqueline got dressed.

October 5, Colorado Springs, CO

If he never went to another airport in his life, Alastair would be okay with that. The problem was that he and his father still did not have any better lead to follow. Alastair had tried Mr. Stevens repeatedly over the last month but had been stonewalled every time. Mr. Stevens simply would not give him any useful information. Alastair could barely control his fury at the man but knew that he could not afford to piss him off. Mr. Stevens was their only resource to find Nysa, so Alastair continued to ask politely and be turned down just as politely.

“Maybe we should pay the man a visit,” his father muttered after Alastair hung up the phone.

“I don’t think he would be real happy to have me wandering into his office and interrupting his day. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to stay off his shit list if possible.”

“I just think if we can sit down and speak with him, man to man, we might be able to make him see the urgency.”

Alastair thought it over. It couldn’t hurt much, and the airport approach sure wasn’t getting them anywhere. “I guess it’s back to L.A.”

He and his father grabbed their luggage and drove to the airport. The first available flight back to Los Angeles wasn’t leaving for another three hours, so they found the food court and sat down for a bite before the next leg of their journey.

October 8, Los Angeles, CA

When they had arrived back in Los Angeles on Friday, they had located the offices of Mr. Stevens, J.D., but everyone had already left for the weekend. While Alastair was still anxious to find Nysa, he also realized that a weekend of rest and relaxation was not just beneficial but necessary at this point. They had been working non-stop to find Nysa for over a month, and they desperately needed some down time, so Alastair and his father spent the weekend relaxing and watching the baseball playoffs.

Alastair also took the opportunity to catch up on his bills. In the event the world didn’t end in the near future, he and Nysa would still need somewhere to live that had both electricity and phone service. In private, Alastair took time to read a few more letters from the box Nysa had left him. His heart ached for her as he read her sweet words, and he wished he had been thoughtful enough to do something similar for her. He decided he’d have to make it up to her when he found her.

Come Monday morning, they were back to business. They both awoke early and cooked and ate breakfast in silence. After hurriedly doing the dishes, Alastair and his father hopped into the car and headed to the office of one Gary Stevens, Attorney at Law.

“Fucking Topoqwest!” Alastair shouted and threw the directions on the floorboard. “I don’t know why I still use them, their directions are always fucking wrong!” He took out his cell phone and called the office. “Hello, I was wondering if I could get directions to your office, please. I’m currently at the corner of Overland and Pico. Uh-huh. Right. Okay, thanks.” Alastair hung up the phone and headed east on Pico toward Century City. They fought their way through traffic they finally arrived at the office building. After parking the car in the underground garage, Alastair and his father took the elevator up to the lobby. They had to check in with the security desk there, and then took a different elevator up to the law office. They entered together and Alastair approached the reception desk.

“Good morning, I’d like to see Mr. Stevens, please,” Alastair stated.

“I’m sorry, sir, he’s working away from this office today. Did you have an appointment scheduled?”

“No, but it’s urgent that I find him. Will he be in tomorrow?”

The receptionist looked down at the calendar on her desk. “I’m sorry but I show him working out of his Colorado office for the next two weeks. Would you like me to make an appointment for when he returns?”

“Did you say he has an office in Colorado?” Alastair could feel the frustration building. Carl placed his hand on Alastair’s shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. Alastair looked over at him. Seeing his father’s patient and gentle appearance, he knew they’d get better results if he allowed Carl to intervene.

“Miss, we just flew in from Colorado to try and meet with Mr. Stevens. Would you tell me where his office is located?” his father asked softly.

The receptionist looked back and forth between them. “Certainly sir, would you like me to write it down for you as well?”

“Yes, please,” Alastair’s father replied with a smile.

The young receptionist took out a blank piece of paper and began writing as Alastair paced in the lobby. “His offices are at the corner of Wilcox and Third in Castle Rock. Are you familiar with that area?” Alastair shook his head. “If you would like I can print out Topoqwest directions from the Denver airport for you.”

“No!” shouted Alastair, startling the woman. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had bad luck with Topoqwest recently. I’ll buy a Thomas Guide. Thank you.”

“I completely understand,” she replied and smiled as she handed him the paper. “I’ve gone on a couple of wild goose chases myself. Do you have a message you’d like to leave for Mr. Stevens? I can pass it on when he checks in.”

“No, thank you, Miss,” said his dad. “You’ve been very helpful. Thank you for your assistance.” They both turned and left the office.

“I should have set up a frequent flier account,” his father stated dryly as they stepped into the elevator.

That struck Alastair as hilarious. By the time they got back down to the garage, Alastair was wiping tears from his eyes. When he finally got himself under control, he looked at his dad. “Sorry, right joke, right time, I guess.”

“Happy to help. You looked a bit tense. I’m glad I could give you a good laugh.”

There were no flights available until the next day. They booked two tickets into Denver this time. Alastair settled down on the couch with the newspaper while his dad went to shower. The front page was still covered with stories and speculation surrounding the mysterious skin condition that continued to spread like an ugly web. Conspiracy theorists seemed to think it was a Chinese biological weapon of some sort. The CDC had not yet released any official report but would have to soon as international cases were beginning to pop up.

Other major headlines included the ongoing cleanup processes in both China and on the U.S. East Coast. The chemical spill that the Chinese government continued to deny was almost entirely cleaned up from what could be seen in satellite images. There were no official casualty numbers, but the unofficial estimates put out by the United States government were disturbingly high. Rebuilding and repairs on the East Coast continued to be a difficult process due to the damaged infrastructure. People and equipment from all over the country were being driven and flown in to assist in the efforts.

Alastair skimmed through the rest of the paper, found nothing interesting, and set it aside for his dad. He went to the kitchen and made a couple of sandwiches for their lunch, bringing them back to the coffee table along with some chips, salsa, and two sodas. When his father got out of the shower and had dressed, they sat eating lunch while Alastair summarized what he’d read in the paper.

“Not looking good, is it Dad?” Alastair asked.

“Well,” his dad said, chewing his lower lip, “at least we haven’t seen anything that hints at the seventh sign. Maybe this will stop for a while. Maybe humanity will get its act together and this will stop for a long while.”

“If that’s what it’s going to take I might as well start drinking again,” answered Alastair. “If the fate of humanity is up to us humans, we’re all doomed.” He leaned back on the couch and sipped his Mountain Dew. “But if we can at least buy some more time to find Nysa by holding hands and singing ‘Kumbayah,’ I’m all for it.”

His father leaned back next to him. “We’ll just do the best we can. That’s all the Good Lord asks of us.”

They flew back to Colorado on the twelfth, once again arriving too late to go to Mr. Stevens’ office.

October 10, Castle Rock, CO

Alastair and his father were waiting for Mr. Stevens when he arrived at his offices. They approached as he walked to his door.

“Mr. Stevens?” Alastair asked.

“Good morning, Mr. Mann. I recognize your voice,” responded the lawyer. “I can’t help but say this is an unexpected visit. Please come inside. We can talk in my office. Would you like something to drink, some coffee perhaps?”

“Yes, thank you,” Alastair said.

“Yes, please,” his father answered as they entered the building. The reception area was small but comfortable. The receptionist’s desk was rather large, clean, and very polished. There was a waiting area off to their left containing a table surrounded by four chairs. Another six were lined up against the wall. The artwork that decorated the walls contained paintings of various mountains and wildlife in the nearby Rockies.

“Tracy,” Mr. Stevens said, turning toward his secretary, “could you please bring some coffee into my office? Three cups and some cream and sugar as well. Thank you.” The lawyer led them into a large and comfortable office. It was obvious from the décor that Mr. Stevens ran an extremely successful practice. From the mahogany desk and bookcases to the matching leather chairs and couch, the office was classy without being over the top. The bookcases were overflowing with law books, the message light on Mr. Stephen’s phone blinked, and a stack of message pads was piled neatly next to the telephone. Other than those pieces of paper, the desk was immaculate. As they sat Mr. Stevens asked, “I’m sorry, but may I ask who you are, sir?” He indicated Alastair’s father.

“Carl. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Alastair’s father,” he replied while shaking the attorney’s hand. Just then the door opened and Tracy entered the office carrying a tray. On it sat a pot of coffee, three cups, a jar of sugar, and creamer. She set them gently on the corner of her boss’s desk and quietly left the room, pausing to close the door behind her.

“How may I help you gentlemen today?”

“We’re still looking for Nysa, Mr. Stevens. We tracked her to the Colorado Springs airport but have been unable to find where she went from there. I’m inclined to guess she’s not far from here, but I need your help.”

“I’m sorry you wasted your time, but as I told you on the phone, I am not allowed to divulge her whereabouts. I’m not quite sure how you tracked her to the airport, but I’m willing to speculate it was at the very least in the gray areas of the law.”

Alastair and his father exchanged a quick glance.

The lawyer continued. “When the project is done, I’m sure you will hear from her as soon as she’s free to call you. Is there anything else? I have a busy schedule today and I’d like to get started.”

“Mr. Stevens, are you a religious man?” Carl asked.

“I don’t see the relevance of your question, sir.”

“I’m just wondering, because if you are, you might be interested in why our search cannot wait until the project is completed.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I haven’t been to church since I was a child. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Alastair looked to his father who merely shrugged and set his coffee cup down on the table.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Stevens. May God have mercy on your soul,” Carl said softly.

Carl and Alastair stood to leave but paused at the quizzical look on the lawyer’s face.

“Why did you say that?” asked Mr. Stevens. “While I’m not religious, you’ve piqued my curiosity as to why you think my immortal soul would be in jeopardy because I won’t disclose the location of my client’s labs.”

“I thought you had a busy day ahead of you,” Carl retorted. “We wouldn’t want to keep your other clients waiting.”

The lawyer gave them his undivided attention. “I’ll worry about my schedule, thank you. Please, sit back down and say your piece so I can go about my business with no future interruptions.”

Carl started relating the current events and their biblical significance while the lawyer sat quietly behind his desk listening intently. Carl rehashed the discussions he and Alastair had engaged in regarding the first few signs and whether or not they were just coincidental. His monologue became more passionate as he moved on to the fourth and concluded with the fifth sign.

“Very well spoken, sir,” the attorney stated when Carl had finished. “I’m not going to tell you I believe the world is coming to an end, but you make a very compelling argument. Assuming for the moment that what you say is true, what makes you think my client’s project has anything to do with it?”

“We’re not saying it does, Mr. Stevens,” Alastair blurted out. “What we’re saying is if that is what’s happening, I want to be with Nysa when the end comes. It can’t all end before I see her again. I have to be able to tell her at least one more time that I love her. Please, Mr. Stevens, please tell me where she is.”

“I can’t do that, Mr. Mann, but I appreciate your resolve. I’ll tell you what I will do. I will take your concerns to my client and let him make the decision. I will relay your evidence, circumstantial though it may be, of the End of Days. If he sees a reason or has the compassion to allow you to see Dr. Knight, I will notify you directly. That’s the best I can do.”

“Can’t you just tell us where the facility is? I don’t want to waste any more time, I don’t know how much we have left.” Alastair couldn’t disguise the pleading tone in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mann, I can’t divulge the location of the facility to anybody. Besides, even if I did tell you where it is, you wouldn’t be able to get in. The security is much too tight. Even if you got passed the armed guards, which I doubt, we had a very unique security program written for the compound. It’s impenetrable. All I can do for you is what I’ve already offered. It’s that or nothing, the decision is yours.” Alastair could hear the finality in his voice.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Stevens,” Carl replied. “If that’s the best you can do, we’ll have to accept it. We appreciate your time and understanding.” He gave the lawyer the phone number to the hotel they were staying at. “And thank you for the coffee,” he said setting down his cup again. “It was very good.”

“My pleasure. I will be in contact with you soon.”

Alastair and his father got up, shook hands with the attorney, and exited the office, saying goodbye to the receptionist on the way out. She was busy typing some sort of document on her computer and didn’t turn as they walked past her desk. Alastair did a double take at her computer monitor. There in the bottom right corner of her screen was an icon he recognized.

He bit his lip and continued out the front door. It took all of his willpower to keep from jumping in the air and yelling once they stepped outside. He had to wait until they were away from the offices. He couldn’t afford to alert them to what he’d found out.

On their way back to the hotel they stopped at a small café they had seen on the way in. Alastair and Carl stepped through the front door of the café into one of two dining rooms. The two men inhaled deeply, enjoying the strong smells of coffee and bacon. To their left was a row of booths and on the right was an enormous mirror overlooking an onyx and marble bar. Alastair had to smile at the fact that, however beautiful the bar might be, the red vinyl bar stools were what caught his eye. Hanging on the wood-paneled walls over the booths were newspaper articles and photographs recounting the history of Castle Rock and the restaurant itself.

Making their way to the back of the room and turning right into the second main dining area Alastair smiled in surprise by the contrast in décor. Although the walls of this room were also covered in framed newspaper articles and pictures of the town, the walls were brick instead of wood. After ordering, Alastair sat admiring the quaintness of the room. He sipped his coffee and studied the intricate details of the pressed-tin tiles of the ceiling. He smiled to himself yet again and took another sip of coffee as their breakfast was at last delivered. Over what turned out to be quite a delicious meal of eggs, bacon, hashed browns, and toast, they rehashed their meeting with Mr. Stevens.

“Not quite what I’d hoped for,” said Alastair, “but more than I expected. Thanks for your help in there. You really caught him off guard with your concern for his ‘immortal soul.’”

Carl chuckled. “It’s interesting that people who claim to be atheists still show concern when you put it the right way. Maybe I should have been a preacher,” he joked. “Oh, that’s right, I was!”

Alastair smiled as he polished off the last of his bacon. “Let’s go back to the hotel for a nap. I’m about to slip into a food coma.”

“I saw something that I think will help,” Alastair said softly as they meandered slowly back to the hotel, enjoying the sights and sounds of the small town.

“What? I didn’t see anything.” Carl stopped and looked at his son.

“Come on. Keep walking.” They both turned and continued down the sidewalk. “On the secretary’s computer I saw an icon I recognized. It’s for a program I wrote called Unique. I didn’t think it would ever be used. It may be a way for us to find Nysa. I’m not sure how yet, but maybe it will be useful.”

“So what? She’s got a program on her computer. I still don’t understand what the big revelation is.”

Alastair stopped and faced his father. “I wrote that program. It was just after I sobered up. It was my first big project. It helped me get back on the right track. I wrote that program!” He could still see the blank look on his father’s face. “If I wrote it I know how to get around it.” Carl’s look of questioning was replaced by one of skepticism. “Listen, I know you won’t like hearing this but I’ll tell you anyway. Sometimes programmers like to leave themselves a backdoor into the program in case they ever need to access it again. Usually nobody but the programmer knows about it. I wrote that program, Dad. I wrote a backdoor into it. If I can find the facility, and I can access the security system, I can shut it down for as long as I need to find Nysa.”

“But how do we find it? We’re not any closer to finding the actual location than we were when we left Mr. Stevens’ office.” They began moving swiftly back down the sidewalk toward the hotel.

“I don’t know, but when we do, I know I can get in. That’s something at least. I know it’s not much, but it’s a start. So even if Mr. Scario won’t let me see Nysa, at least I have something to work with. We’ll find her, I know we will. We have to.”

Alastair and his father spent the next couple of weeks in their hotel room. Alastair felt compelled to brush up on his computer code and refresh his knowledge of the Unique program. Not having any computer background, Carl had nothing to do and so spent his time touring the small town and taking in its charm while they awaited a call from Mr. Stevens. After having explored the inside of every shop and restaurant along both Wilcox and Perry Streets, he began to broaden the scope of their tour. He hiked up to the top of Castle Rock, chatting with other people on the trail and enjoying the weather and the view. He went to the local Castle of Terror for Halloween fun, and filled his time with anything he could find that looked even remotely interesting. A trip on the Cog Railway in Manitou Springs was especially exhilarating as the old time railroad climbed up the side of Pike’s Peak to the summit. In the front seat of the first car, Carl sat awestruck at the scenery on the way up. Pulling into the station at the top, however, was a different story. Carl watched the end of the track in front of him disappear below the bottom of the large window frame as they pulled in. Beyond it was nothing but sky as far as Carl could tell. His heart hammered in his chest as the train slowed to a crawl and gently bumped the guardrail. He asked the man at the controls how hard he’d have to hit the guard in order to bust through it. The young man laughed and replied, “Not very,” then walked off the train. Carl nearly vomited.

October 15,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

The young J.D. stood in the large office awaiting his employer’s arrival. The walls were lined with books. The desk in the middle of the room made him cringe. It was covered with scraps of paper in no apparent order. Pieces had slipped off and sat crumpled on the floor. Mr. Stevens clasped his hands together to resist the temptation to rearrange the desk in a manner that he believed to be more fitting to a man of Scario’s stature.

His gaze continued to wander the room, passing over the computer on the desk, the tall chair sitting behind it. The walls were adorned with priceless artwork. As wealthy as the young attorney knew his employer to be, he still couldn’t imagine how anyone could afford all the pieces he saw displayed. If Scario could afford these pieces in his office, Stevens wondered what was hanging in his home. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Mr. Scario silently entered the room and spoke.

“Mr. Stevens, how nice to see you again. How are you this morning?”

“Quite well, Mr. Scario, and you?”

“Getting better by the minute. May I offer you something to eat or drink? Did you have an opportunity to eat breakfast yet? I can have something brought down for you.”

“No, thank you, sir. I’ve already eaten.”

“Coffee then?”

“No, thank you.”

“Very well then, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Mr. Scario as he sat down in one of his plush recliners.

“I had an unexpected visit the other day from Dr. Knight’s fiancé,” said Mr. Stevens, still standing across from him. “He’s desperate to see her.”

“Mr. Stevens,” interrupted Scario, “please sit down. You’re so formal. Thank you. Now, please continue.”

“He was waiting for me when I arrived at my office in Castle Rock last Wednesday. He was upset. His father relayed a story of the impending demise of mankind. I must say, he was quite convincing.” Mr. Stevens went on to relay the content of their conversation.

“What did you tell them?” asked Scario, slowly tracing the line of the scar on his throat with his thumb. “I hope you didn’t violate my trust in you.”

“No sir, Mr. Scario. I told them that I would pass along their concerns and Mr. Mann’s request to see Dr. Knight and that the decision would be up to you.”

“Out of curiosity, why your Castle Rock office? Dr. Knight is from Los Angeles, and I would venture to guess he is as well. Why not your L.A. office?”

“From what my receptionist told me, he did go to my L.A. office. She told him I was out here for a couple weeks. That was last Monday.”

“Did he say anything else?” Scario was now glaring at his attorney, and his agitation was obvious. He had leaned forward in his chair and although his hands were folded, the younger man could see the whitening knuckles of his employer.

Although used to high pressure situations, the lawyer was beginning to sweat. For some reason, Mr. Scario seemed distressed. Normally Mr. Stevens wouldn’t be bothered by another’s anger, but this was his biggest client, and Mr. Scario was used to getting his way. When he didn’t, he could be a little…vindictive was the word that popped into the young lawyer’s mind. Once he had seen Scario lose a poker game to someone. Within a month, he bought the company the man worked for, merely for the satisfaction of firing him. Stevens did not want to be the focal point of this man’s displeasure.

“He said he had tracked her to the Colorado Springs Airport, but couldn’t find out where she went from there.”

“Did he mention how he acquired that information?” Scario asked.

“No, sir.”

“Any ideas?”

“No, sir.”

“I’m assuming he left contact information with you. May I have it?”

“Yes, sir.” Stevens handed over the paper with the hotel phone number on it.

“Is there anything else you think I should know, Mr. Stevens?”

“No, sir. Should I let him know you will be contacting him directly?”

“No, Mr. Stevens. I don’t want you to have any further contact with him at all. I will take care of everything.” The lawyer practically jumped from his chair when Scario rose. “And please, Mr. Stevens, stop for a massage on the way out. You look tense.” Scario turned and left the room, leaving the young man to let himself out. Mr. Stevens rose slowly from his chair and shuffled slowly toward the door, but paused when he heard Scario pick up the phone in the next room and begin speaking.

“Please have Thomas report to my quarters immediately.”

The attorney could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat and moved swiftly to the door, closing it quietly behind him. His stomach churned as he stood in the elevator, trying to imagine the reason for Thomas’ summons.

Unfortunately I had to terminate one of my most trusted employees today. It was either that or the two meddling idiots from California. In the end it’s easier to cover up one death than two, and I don’t care to draw any attention to myself at the moment. Without a lead from the airport—and now without Mr. Stevens to speak to—maybe they will go home, and I can conclude my business here in peace. If they don’t, I may have to terminate them as well. I would prefer not to though, as three deaths are much harder than one to carry out without the wrong people being alarmed as a result. I am now beginning to think I know who is behind the “accidents” and odd occurrences at the facility. It’s the only way to explain the lack of fingerprints and keycard entries, the freak incidents, and the medical problems among the personnel. How dare he? He has cursed me for long enough. Why oppose me when my only desire is to finally bring about an end to this Godforsaken life?

October 19,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

Jacqueline was now starting to experience some of the less pleasant aspects of pregnancy. She was constantly tired, her back was killing her, and she didn’t think she would ever fit back into her normal shoe size. Although she had been advised about possible pregnancy symptoms, she really hadn’t thought it would be this bad. One thing she hadn’t been prepared for was an entire night of sleep lost due to baby hiccups. Hiccups? The baby? She’d never heard of such a thing. Nevertheless, she had tossed and turned until four o’clock in the morning waiting for the baby to stop so she could go to sleep.

There were also days she almost couldn’t get out of bed come morning, mostly because she really didn’t want to. She wasn’t feeling well, she really didn’t have anywhere she had to go, and she was cozy under her blankets. What’s the point? she asked herself. On those days she forced herself up for the good of the baby. She didn’t want to put any undue risk on the baby simply because she felt lazy that day. So she continued to get her exercise and fresh air. Nysa helped a great deal too, stopping by her room to encourage her to go walking outside with her. It’s hard to say no to a friend that wants to take a stroll and make you laugh.

After their walk, Jacqueline and Nysa headed upstairs to the medical floor for a baby checkup. The doctor entered the room in a wheelchair and stopped at the end of Jacqueline’s examination table to begin the appointment. The two women exchanged a quizzical look. “Uh, Doctor?” Nysa looked at him questioningly.

“If you must know,” he began. “I was wandering the grounds the other day and stepped on some kind of animal trap. Damn thing nearly took my right foot off. I injured the other one trying to push the cursed thing open,” he added sheepishly. “Seems the soles of my shoes aren’t quite as thick as I thought they were. Anyway, we’re not here to discuss my medical condition, it’s you and the baby we’re concerned with,” he stated as he turned to face Jacqueline. Jacqueline lay back on the table as the doctor positioned himself for the exam.

The appointment went as normal, the doctor taking Jacqueline’s weight, blood pressure, a urine sample, and checking the baby’s heartbeat. The baby was developing quite rapidly now, having crossed the foot-long mark and now weighing over two pounds. Jacqueline asked the doctor if he could remove a few of her ribs before the baby kicked and broke them, but he politely declined. After answering the few serious questions she and Nysa had, the doctor wheeled himself out of the room. Nysa followed and closed the door behind them. Jacqueline got dressed and joined Nysa for lunch in the main cafeteria.

October 31, Castle Rock, CO

Alastair had not heard from Mr. Stevens and decided to give him a call for a status update.

“Good morning, Law Office of Gary Stevens. How may I help you?” a chipper voice answered on the other end.

“I’m trying to get a hold of Mr. Stevens. Is he available?”

“I’m sorry sir. According to my calendar he is back in his Los Angeles office. I believe he left this past weekend. Would you like the phone number there?”

Alastair groaned. “No thanks, I have it.”

“Thank you for calling. Have a nice day,” she replied cheerfully.

Alastair hung up the phone and called the L.A. office.

“Law Office of Gary Stevens, please hold,” came the voice on the other end. After a moment, the receptionist returned. “Thank you for holding. How may I help you?”

“Yes, I’m trying to reach Mr. Stevens, please.”

“I’m sorry, he’s not in the office. May I take a message?”

“Do you know when he’ll be in?”

“No, but I can relay a message. May I ask who’s calling?”

“My name is Alastair Mann. He was supposed to call me with some information, but I haven’t heard from him. It’s quite urgent.”

“Does he have your number? I can ask him to call you when I hear from him, sir.”

“No, thanks.” Alastair sighed and hung up the phone.

“No luck?” Carl asked.

“No. His Castle Rock office says he went back to L.A., but he’s not there and they say they don’t know when he’ll be in. Looks like he blew us off.” Alastair sat dejectedly in the lumpy hotel chair.

“Don’t you have his cell phone number?”

Alastair glanced sheepishly at his father and picked up his cell phone. He dialed the number and put the phone to his ear. After a moment he set the phone back down. “Voicemail.” He leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes. “I guess I’ll try him again tomorrow. Maybe he’s in a meeting with Scario.”

“Scario,” Carl repeated, his gaze drifting out the first floor window, lost in thought. “Why does that name seem familiar?”

“I’ve had the same feeling. I don’t know why, but it sticks in my head and I don’t like it. It seems bad, but I couldn’t tell you why. I’ve never met the man—never even spoken to him. All I can tell you is that the name Scario leaves a foul taste in my mouth.”

“It’s him,” his father answered slowly. “It’s The Betrayer.”

“Okay,” Alastair replied. “Please tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Scario isn’t who he pretends to be.” Carl sat down in a chair next to Alastair and filled him in on his newly developed theory.

November 6, Castle Rock, CO

Nearly a week had passed and Alastair still hadn’t had any luck contacting Mr. Stevens. When he called the lawyer’s cell phone he was told that the mailbox was full, and when he called the office in Castle Rock the receptionist told him that Mr. Stevens wasn’t in but that she would be happy to take a message. Alastair declined politely and fought the urge to slam the phone down. He called the Los Angeles office again.

“Law Office of Gary Stevens, may I help you?” came the answer.

“Mr. Stevens, please.”

“I’m sorry, he’s not in. May I take a message?”

“Miss, I’ve left several messages already and haven’t heard from him. It’s very urgent that I speak with him. Do you have another number for him?”

“I don’t. I’m sorry. Is this Mr. Mann?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Sir, I’m sorry but Mr. Stevens hasn’t been in the office and he hasn’t checked in to retrieve his messages. I’ll be sure to let him know you need to speak to him as soon as I hear from him.”

“Are you telling me you haven’t heard from or seen him in a week and a half?” Alastair stammered.

“Um, yes sir,” she replied meekly.

“Aren’t you worried something happened to him?”

“A little, but he does things like this from time to time. Usually it’s about a week. I’m sure he’ll be in the office in the next day or two and I will make sure you are at the top of the list of his calls to return. Again, I’m sorry for the delay.”

“Okay...thanks. Sorry to be so short with you, I just really need to talk to him. Have a good rest of your day.” Alastair hung up the phone. He turned to Carl. “No dice. Apparently he disappears for a week or so every now and then. She said she’d put my name at the top of the list of phone calls to return. Must be nice to be able to not show up or call in for work and not get canned. Speaking of which, I need to check in with my boss.”

Alastair called in to work while his father sat down on the end of one of the beds and turned on the television.

“This is Suzy. May I help you?”

“Hey, it’s Alastair. How’s everything going there?”

“Hey Alastair. I’m glad you called, I need you back. Are you about done?”

“Not yet, Suzy. I’m sorry, can I get more time?”

“I can give you another week,” she replied, “but then I’ll need to replace you. I’m sorry Alastair. I’m swamped and I need a body in here. I’d like it to be yours, but I’ll take what I can get at the moment.”

“Thank you Suzy, for everything, and God bless.” Alastair closed his eyes and put his head down in his hands. “It’s time to get started on the less-than-pleasant approach,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry?” Carl grabbed the remote and turned down the volume on the television as he turned to face Alastair.

“I have to get started trying to find her on my own. I can’t wait any longer for Mr. Stevens to call. If I don’t start now, I don’t think I’ll have enough time to hack into the system and try to find a way in to the facility.”

“Where are you going to start?” his dad asked, getting up and crossing the room to where Alastair was sitting.

“I have to find out who we sold the program to. If I can find that, I might be able to move forward. There’s really no other option I can think of.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Carl asked.

“Unfortunately not,” Alastair replied, looking up from his hands. “I think I’m going to have to do this on my own, or with help from someone who can at least program the clock on their VCR.”

“My expertise lies in other areas.” Carl replied, not taking the bait. “Let me know when you get hungry, I am capable of going for food.” Carl gave his son a pat on the shoulder and returned to his seat.

November 8, Castle Rock, CO

Carl picked up the morning paper and headed back to the hotel with the coffees and bagels he’d also purchased while out on his morning walk. He and Alastair had visited the airport a few more times over the last week or so, but with no more luck than they’d had previously. When he got back to the hotel, Alastair was in the shower.

He set Alastair’s coffee and the bagels on the table and sat down to read the paper. He froze at the sight of the first headline. “Local attorney found dead on Pikes Peak.” According to the article a human body had been found a short way off of Barr Trail. There had been no identification on the body and investigators suspected that whoever dumped the body had hoped that the next snowfall would conceal the body until the following spring. By then identification of the body would have been exceedingly more difficult, if not impossible, especially if the body was discovered by a wild animal or two.

Two unlucky hikers had found the body after leaving the trail to urinate. The autopsy declared a broken neck to be the cause of death. It also determined that the broken neck was not the result of a fall, which would be the obvious assumption. A hiker out on the mountain missteps and takes a tumble down over the side of the trail. Open and shut case. The Medical Examiner had had a feeling that something wasn’t quite as it appeared, and the tests revealed injuries inconsistent with a fall. The case was being treated as a homicide.

Although badly mutilated from blunt force trauma, and further damaged from tumbling down a rocky incline and exposure to the elements for nearly a month, the medical examiner later identified the body as one Mr. Gary Stevens of Castle Rock, CO. The police department set up a tip line for anyone who might have information that would be helpful to the investigators. As of yet, there were no suspects in the case. Clues and details were sketchy and incomplete. The detectives acknowledged they would need some assistance to bring the killer to justice. Carl set the paper down and turned on the television while waiting for Alastair to finish in the bathroom.

“Bad news, bud,” Carl said to Alastair and handed him his coffee.

“What now?” asked Alastair while glancing at the television. “The end of Days of Our Lives? It’s not that bad.”

“Not the television, the newspaper.”

Alastair picked up the paper and read the headline. Carl watched as Alastair’s face went sheet-white. “What happened?” he asked, dropping the paper back on the table and falling into a nearby chair.

“Seems someone broke Mr. Stevens’ neck and dumped his body up in the mountains. The article said he’s been dead around three weeks. Guess that explains why he didn’t call you back.”

Alastair got up and began pacing around the room. He kept glancing at the television which was now broadcasting the latest CDC update. It seemed that although the symptoms from the mystery virus had begun to taper off, there was a severe recurrence now involving painful sores. While this wasn’t occurring in every case, it was widespread enough to cause concern. Alastair turned off the television and walked back to where his father sat watching him. He set his coffee on the table and leaned against the back of one of the chairs.

“Any ideas, Dad?”

“Other than following up with the architect? No. I was hoping you might have something else. Doesn’t seem to be much I can do in your current line of investigation, at least not using your methods. With Stevens being a dead end, no pun intended, it looks like I’m left going back to the airport. I was hoping you would have a better idea. I’d really prefer to not go back there.”

“I feel your pain,” Alastair replied. “I guess you can go to his office and see if they’ll give you any information on Scario. They might have an address or at least a phone number for him. Maybe you can track him down, and if you find him, you’ll probably find Nysa. I’m going to get back on the computer and see if I can find anything helpful.”

“Anything but the airport. I’ll get going.” Carl got up from the small table and grabbed the keys to the rental car. “Need me to pick up anything while I’m out?” he asked Alastair as he made his way to the door.

“Just some snacks if you get a chance. I polished off the last of the stale pretzels last night. Grab a few bags of chips and some soda on the way home.” Carl was about to close the door when Alastair called him back in. “How about you grab a pizza on the way home, too? I like tacos as much as the next guy, but we’ve had them every night for the past four nights. I need something else.”

“Will do,” his dad promised and gently closed the door behind him.

It turned out that Mr. Stevens’ office had a sign on the door stating they would be closed for the remainder of the week but would reopen Monday morning. Having not seen offices for any other attorneys when they’d been inside, Carl wasn’t quite sure what they’d be doing on Monday, but figured it wasn’t his concern.

He left the law office and headed back toward the small hotel. He stopped off for breakfast at the B&B Cafe on the way, mostly to kill some time, but it didn’t hurt that they also had a Big Breakfast that both Carl and Alastair were growing rather fond of. He ate in silence at the counter and headed back to the hotel.

Carl spent the rest of the day vegetating in front of the small television, ordering in lunch, and wasting away the hours. He’d get back to the search first thing Monday morning.

Alastair sat at his laptop and tried hacking his way into the files of the architect who’d purchased the security system Unique. It actually didn’t take him nearly as long as he’d expected it to. Apparently the architect, Mr. Harris, wasn’t particularly concerned with the security of his files. After a few hours of searching, Alastair found the blueprints of the building that utilized his program. The only problem was that he couldn’t find an actual address for the building. Throughout the files the only address he could find was that of Mr. Stevens’ law office. It seemed that the location of the facility was being kept a secret even from the man who had designed it.

Alastair finally gave up on his quest to find out where the building was located and began examining the blueprints. If he had to break in at some point in order to find Nysa, it would be helpful if he had a rough idea of where to look.

The plans were enormous. From the elevation drawings of the building it was relatively boring, but the further he dug into the drawings the more he realized the building was more vast than it appeared. From the vaults in the lower levels to the housing facilities and labs in the middle floors and all the way up to the floors housing the spa and restaurants, Scario had spared no expense. Knowing how the security system would work in theory, Alastair became very concerned about whether or not he’d be able to get in. When he finally got to the as-built drawings, his jaw just about hit the floor.

“Oh shit!” Alastair muttered under his breath.

“What?” his father asked, sitting up from his prone position on one of the beds.

“This place is a freakin’ fortress. I’m going to be in real trouble if I have to try and break in. Looking at these blueprints of the building, Mr. Scario seems very intent on keeping out any unauthorized people. I’ll know more if I can hack into the security system itself and poke around a bit, but so far it doesn’t look good.”

“You know what they say. Most of the bridges we worry about crossing run over rivers that don’t even exist. We’ll worry about that problem if we get to it. For now let’s just continue focusing on finding the facility. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help you? I feel like a slug sitting over here watching TV while you sit at your computer getting things done.”

“Sorry, Dad, I can’t think of anything. Listen, you’ve done enough to help. You deserve a rest. Kick back and relax and rest assured I’ll put you back to work on Monday when the law office opens back up.”

“You’re the boss.” His dad leaned back down on the bed to watch the evening news.

November 11, Castle Rock, CO

After picking up their daily supply of coffee and bagels, Alastair headed back to the hotel. As he approached the door to their room, digging in his pocket for the key, he heard yelling coming from inside. His father was calling for help. Alastair’s stomach clenched and a chill raced up his spine. He ran to the door and burst into the room. His father scrambled backward over one of the beds, covered in blood.

At the foot of the bed stood a man with a large, dangerous-looking knife. The intruder had heard the door open and as Alastair entered the room, the man lunged at him.

Alastair’s survival instincts took over and he stepped forward, thrusting the coffees up and out. Just as the knife blade sliced across his shoulder, the coffee cups exploded into the face of the attacker. The man screamed, raising his hands to his face. He stumbled backward and tripped over a corner of the bedspread, falling onto the bed with Alastair’s father.

Carl jumped onto the man and began striking his head, neck and shoulders. Alastair grabbed the bedside lamp and tore it from the wall. The small night table crashed to the floor. The drawer slid out, dumping the Bible onto the worn carpet. Alastair moved as quickly as he could around the bed to get a clear view of the assailant. His father was still struggling with the attacker, and Alastair had to be careful not to hit Carl by accident.

An opening to strike finally appeared. As Alastair brought down the lamp toward the intruder’s face, the man slashed with the knife. It barely missed Alastair’s forearm. He watched the progression of its arc, seeing it finally slice cleanly across the left side of his father’s throat. There was an explosion of blood as the lamp crashed down on the man’s face and his father’s carotid artery was severed. A red arc splashed against the wall as Alastair’s father collapsed sideways onto the bed, his life blood streaming from his opened artery.

Alastair added to the macabre artwork with small droplets of red as he brought down the lamp again and again, striking the man repeatedly, though he now lay unconscious on the bed. He tossed the lamp to the floor. His father gagged and choked on his own blood and writhed on the crimson bed. He clawed at his throat in an effort to stop the bleeding. His efforts were only making matters worse. Alastair grabbed him and tried to put pressure on the wound without strangling him.

“Help!” Alastair screamed. “Someone call an ambulance! Help!” He looked down at his father. “Keep still, Dad. The more you struggle the more blood you’re going to lose. Just try to relax. Someone will be here soon.”

Alastair held his father in his arms and continued calling for help. His father’s struggles became weaker. Alastair stopped shouting and looked down at his dad. He could see the pain in his father’s eyes. He could also see the amount of blood continuing to pour from his father’s gaping wound. He knew that help would not arrive in time. His father seemed to know, too. There was nothing more that could be done except give his father what little comfort he could.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Alastair whispered. “Go to Mom. She’s waiting for you.” Tears poured down Alastair’s cheeks, and he fought back the sobs building in his chest and the back of his throat. He ran his fingers through his father’s hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. He leaned down and gently kissed his father’s weathered cheeks. “I love you, Dad.”

Carl became still and looked at his son. He moved his lips as if to speak but only a soft gurgle escaped, followed by a dose of bloody coughing. The blood ran slowly down his cheek and on to Alastair’s hand.

“Sh, Dad. Lie still.”

Alastair pulled his father close and held him as his life slipped away. When the police arrived, Alastair still clutched his father, covered in their mixed blood, weeping quietly. They first checked the intruder’s vital signs and pronounced him dead. The paramedics arrived next and raced into the hotel room to assess the conditions of the two victims. His father was pronounced dead at 10:11 M.S.T. One of the officers stepped outside to request that the coroner be dispatched to the hotel.

Alastair gently kissed his father’s cheeks for the last time and watched in silence as the paramedics placed his father’s body on the gurney, covered him with a white sheet, and slowly wheeled him toward the door. Hot tears plotted their way down Alastair’s cheeks as he watched the white sheet turn red with blood. They removed the body of the assailant and then tended to Alastair’s shoulder. He’d need stitches but that could be done later. They cleaned the wound and put a couple butterfly stitches on to hold it in place until he could get to the hospital. Grimacing in pain as they treated his shoulder, Alastair’s gaze fell to the open Bible lying open on the floor. It was open to Psalm 23. His eyes found and read the words of comfort. “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil.” He didn’t find them nearly as comforting as he’d hoped.

As Alastair stood at the sink washing his hands, two policemen approached and introduced themselves, Sergeants Leslie and Clark. He sat with the police detectives for the next hour and went through the events of the morning, beginning with his trip to get breakfast and ending with the arrival of the police. When he finished, he was once again crying. They gave him time to compose himself before continuing the questioning.

“Did you know the suspect, sir?” asked Sergeant Leslie as she leaned forward and folded her hands on the legal pad sitting on the table in front of her. Alastair noticed how hopelessly empty the pad seemed to be. Surely the few lines of scribble he could see weren’t the only clues they had to investigate, the only evidence to pursue.

“No. Sorry, I’ve never seen him before.” Alastair rubbed at his nose in an attempt to rid his sinuses of the unmistakable metallic scent of blood. He was unsuccessful. If anything he managed to make it worse as there was still blood on his hands. He’d washed them repeatedly after the paramedics arrived, but it didn’t seem to want to rinse off. He could see it caked beneath his fingernails.

“Do you know why he was here? Have you or your father had any arguments with anyone recently? Anything that might give us a clue as to the motive?”

“No, nothing like that,” Alastair said shaking his head. “We don’t even know anybody here.”

The other detective raised his eyebrow and shifted to face Alastair more directly. “What brought you to Castle Rock?”

“I’m looking for my fiancée. I was meeting with a lawyer who knows…excuse me, knew where she was.” Alastair didn’t like the vibes he was getting off of the male detective. He’d seemed disinterested and almost bored at the beginning of the conversation but now appeared not only incredibly attentive, but also hostile for some reason.

“And was that lawyer’s name Gary Stevens?” Detective Leslie asked.

“Yes,” replied Alastair in confusion, looking from one detective to the other. “How did you…oh. Oh, shit!” cried Alastair as he made the connection.

“What’s going on, Mr. Mann? What was Mr. Stevens doing that got him killed? And now your father? We can’t be absolutely sure of that yet, but we’ve had three murders in the last year and two of them have happened in the last month. I’d be willing to bet there’s a connection. What is your girlfriend involved in? Who’s she gotten herself involved with?”

“I…I don’t know exactly,” Alastair stammered.

“Mr. Mann, we need your help. What do you know?”

“My fiancée took a job on a project for a man named Mr. Scario. Mr. Stevens was her contact person. He arranged the flight out here from L.A., negotiated her salary, that type of thing. I’m not sure exactly where she is, but Stevens was trying to arrange for me to meet with her. Last time I spoke with him, he was going to meet with Mr. Scario to ask if I could see her.”

“You say Mr. Scario. Do you know his first name?”

“Sorry, no. I’ve only heard him referred to as Mr. Scario.”

“What type of project is your girlfriend working on?”

“I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell her.”

The detective eyed him warily. “What type of work does your girlfriend do?”

“She’s a scientist. She used to do DNA extraction for UCLA.”

“So she quit her job at UCLA to work for Mr. Scario, but had no idea what she’d be doing?”

“Um, yeah,” he replied, knowing how bad that sounded.

“And now you don’t know where she is?”

Alastair could see that the conversation was taking a turn for the worse. Rather than have the detective think he was hiding something, Alastair told him about the e-mails from Scario, the meetings with Stevens, and the conditions of her employment. He glossed over the part involving his hacking into the airport’s logs, figuring there was nothing to gain from disclosing that information, but plenty to lose. When he finished his story, he answered a couple more questions for the detective before wrapping things up.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Mann,” stated the male detective. “Your information has been helpful. I’ll keep in contract with you and keep you up to date on how the investigation is going. If you plan on going anywhere I’d appreciate it if you’d let us know.” Both of them handed Alastair their business cards.

Alastair stood and shook hands with the two investigators. “I will, detectives, and thank you. If there’s anything else I can do, please let me know.”

After the detectives left, Alastair was taken to a different hotel room while the police finished collecting evidence in his. When they were finished, the detectives let Alastair know so that he could collect his father’s things. Later that evening he called Suzy on her cell phone. He filled her in on the events of the day. Although she offered him more time off in light of his loss, Alastair politely declined and resigned his position instead. He took a long hot shower to wash the rest of the blood off and collapsed into bed. He fell asleep immediately. His dreams were filled with death, chaos, and destruction.

November 13, Castle Rock, CO

Alastair called Detective Leslie to let her know he would be leaving town for his father’s funeral service. He gave her his cell phone number as well as the number to his father’s house in case she needed to contact him.

Carl’s body had been shipped back to Texas and would be buried next to Alastair’s mother and brother on the eighteenth. Alastair had taken care of all the arrangements with assistance from his late father’s congregation. He had called his father’s church the previous day and told them of his father’s death. They had been kind enough to make the preparations for the service and burial, leaving Alastair with the task of picking out the coffin and flowers. He flew down to Texas and drove to Grapeland, arriving at his father’s house shortly before dinner. He took his things into the house, grabbed a quick snack from the fridge, then left and went to his appointment at the funeral home to select the casket and floral arrangements.

The selection of the coffin was far more difficult than Alastair had anticipated. He had known already what type of coffin he would be selecting. His father had been a simple man and would have wanted a simple coffin. The plain pine coffin was the cheapest of the lot, and that was the dilemma. Alastair felt as if he were disrespecting a great man by choosing the least expensive of the lot. In the end he finally convinced himself that it was for the best, and it was the coffin his father would have wanted to be buried in. His opinion would have been that his immortal soul was in the most beautiful place imaginable, what use was it to bury his shell of a body in anything expensive and ornate?

The flowers were an easier selection for Alastair. What he hadn’t spent on his father’s casket, he used to purchase the most elaborate and expensive arrangements he could find. He could honor his father’s wishes for a plain casket, while at the same time not feeling like a complete Scrooge.

When he was finished, he picked up some dinner and headed back to his dad’s place. Sitting down at the kitchen table, memories of meals eaten here with his father played through his mind like a movie. His appetite disappeared quickly, and he got up to brush his teeth and go to bed. He’d had enough for one day and couldn’t even bring himself to do the dishes before getting ready for bed. He left the food sitting where it was, hoping he’d have the will to take care of it in the morning.

November 15, Grapeland, TX

The services went as well as could be expected. They were held at the church where Alastair’s father had preached. He’d sat quietly and alone in the front pew as Carl’s friends and members of the congregation spoke of their fond memories of his father. The room was filled with the most fragrant and beautiful flowers that Alastair had been able to find, yet the only odor he could identify was the phantom smell of his father’s blood. Alastair looked up from his hands where he imagined he could still see the crescent lines of blood under his fingernails. He looked at the casket sitting at the front of the room, a large picture of his father sitting on the lid. Although he’d been given the option of having an open casket, Alastair was glad he’d declined. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to sit and look at his father’s corpse and not break down.

He tried to lose himself in the details of his dad’s life as one after another of Carl’s friends and flock made their way up to the podium. Alastair was touched at how many people attended. It was comforting to see the vast number of lives Carl had impacted. He recognized some of them from his youth but most were strangers to him. It was finally Alastair’s turn to speak. He stood and walked slowly up the stairs, taking the notes he’d written the night before out of his pocket and placing them on the stand. He stood silently for a few moments, trying to collect himself before beginning.

“Good morning, everyone. Thank you all for being here today. I’m Alastair, Carl’s son, for those of you I haven’t met. First, I’d like to thank everyone else who spoke. It was comforting to hear what you had to say, to know he isn’t forgotten, and to get a better understanding of my father. I’d also like to thank the rest of you for just being here to acknowledge the loss of a great man. I want to share a couple of my memories with the rest of you. My father and I didn’t always see eye to eye on how I should lead my life.” A small chuckle emanated from the crowd. “I guess that’s not too different from everyone else. What was great about my father though was, despite my mistakes, he forgave me. Now, I know all of you are thinking ‘Of course, you’re his son.’ While that’s true, I was more difficult than most. You see, I’m an alcoholic. I’m sober now, but during the time I was drinking I said and did some terrible things—things I’m still trying to forgive myself for. But my father didn’t just talk the talk, as they say. He walked the walk. He truly lived what he preached, and I don’t know if I ever properly thanked him for that. His love and support helped me through a lot of hard times. And now, in the hardest time of all, he’s gone. That’s what some of you may think anyway. I believe he’s still alive. I can’t hold a conversation with him, but he lives on in my heart, in your hearts. When I need him I know he’s still watching over me and will help me through. I need that right now.” Alastair looked upward. “I need your help through this. I miss you dad. I love you. We’ll meet again on the other side.” He picked up his notes and stepped down from the podium, fighting the tears back, trying to retain his composure as he returned to his seat for the remainder of the ceremony.

After the services, Alastair rose and eventually made his way outside to where a town car was waiting for him. He was stopped by almost every person in the church who told him what a great man his father had been and what a loss everyone had suffered upon his death. One person told Alastair that even those who didn’t know Carl, and who had been denied the opportunity of meeting him, had unknowingly suffered a loss as well. Alastair could barely speak in an effort to keep his emotions in check. He merely thanked them, nodded, and moved on.

The drive to the cemetery was short. The preacher spoke once again and as Alastair sat in his chair after the burial ceremony, additional members of the congregation filed by expressing their sympathies. Alastair acknowledged and thanked them but was lost in memories of his father. He remembered his dad teaching him to throw and catch a football, the little tips on how to be a gentleman, learning to drive, and a thousand others.

As the last of the mourners disbursed, Alastair sat looking at his father’s casket and saying goodbye. A gentle breeze blew white flower petals from one of the arrangements down onto his father’s coffin. His gaze wandered over the moist dirt sitting atop the neatly trimmed and lush green lawn. He walked over to the pile and grabbed two handfuls. Alastair stood watching as the coffin was slowly lowered into the hole.

When the crew had detached their equipment and moved off to continue whatever else they had to do, Alastair made his way to the edge of the grave and dropped the dirt onto the lid of the casket. The hollow thump on the coffin echoed in his aching chest. He couldn’t believe his father was gone. There had been so much he had still wanted to say to him, so many things he had wanted his dad to see, to share in. While he did believe the words he’d said at the services, he still felt gypped. He wanted his father back, in person.

Lost deep in these thoughts, Alastair surveyed the grounds. It was only then that he noticed a well-dressed man watching him, leaning against the trunk of an oak tree not too far off. Alastair realized that the man had been standing there through the entire ceremony, but he had, only now, truly noticed him. Alastair tried to ignore the man standing there staring at him but finally, after everyone else had left, he brushed the remaining dirt off his hands and walked over to the stranger.

“Good afternoon,” said Alastair as he walked up next to the man.

“Good afternoon,” the stranger replied, nodding in Alastair’s direction.

“Did you know my father well?”

“No. No, I can’t say I knew him at all actually. Still, it’s a shame he had to die,” he stated and turned to look at Alastair. “Bad things happen to good people. I see it much too frequently. Seems to happen mostly when someone starts poking around where they’re not wanted,” he finished, staring coldly at Alastair.

Alastair’s breath caught in his chest for a moment at the realization of who he was speaking to. “Scario!” Alastair whispered.

“Don’t do anything you might regret, Alastair. Remember, Nysa is still working for me. It would be unfortunate if we were to have an accident at the facility that resulted in her death.”

It took all of Alastair’s willpower to not tear the man apart right there in the cemetery.

“I can see this is difficult, for you but maybe what I’m about to tell you will help keep you and Nysa alive. The project is almost over. In roughly a month, you and your precious Nysa will be reunited. Of course, that is assuming I don’t have any more interference from you.” Scario stepped toward Alastair, leaned in, and whispered, “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes,” Alastair replied, barely able to control himself. His heart hammered in his chest, the noise echoing in his ears as he fought back the urge to rip the man’s throat out and dump him in his father’s grave. He knew that he couldn’t, that Nysa’s life would be in danger if he acted on his instincts. Instead he bit his lip—bit it until he could taste the warm coppery liquid oozing out of the groove where his teeth had just pushed through. The pain helped him to regain focus. “Perfectly.”

“Very good. Goodbye, Alastair.” Scario turned and walked away, leaving Alastair seething with hatred.

“I’ll see you again,” Alastair whispered to himself as he watched Scario stroll down the hill to the road. “I can promise you that.” There, at the bottom of the hill, waited another Rolls Royce like the one that had picked up Nysa for her trip to the airport, except this one was black. Scario turned and looked at him one last time as he climbed into the back seat. The driver shut the door, made his way around the car, climbed in, and drove slowly away.

November 16,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

Jacqueline was just about to hit the thirty-week mark, and she and Nysa were very excited when they left the obstetrician’s office. The baby was now approximately fourteen inches long and three pounds. According to the doctor the baby’s lungs were beginning to function, and he now had a very good chance of survival even if born prematurely. Despite this, the doctor now wanted to see Jacqueline in two weeks to monitor the baby’s progress.

What had thrilled them the most though was watching the ultrasound. This was the third time it had been done and they were still amazed to see the images of the baby in the womb. It had been difficult to tell, but it had looked like he had been sucking his thumbs. As they left the exam room, Nysa and Jacqueline were still chuckling about the baby not being content with just one thumb, greedily sucking away at both.

Nysa chortled. “You just better hope he doesn’t want both your nipples in his mouth at once.” Jacqueline burst into a fit of laughter.

“With these little things I don’t think that would even be possible,” replied Jacqueline as she pushed her breasts together. “He’d better be able to dislocate his jaw if he wants to get both of these in his mouth at the same time.”

November 20, Grapeland, TX

He was done grieving. Now was the time for retribution. Alastair wasn’t quite sure how powerful of a man Scario was, and he decided not to take any risks. He searched his father’s house for the gun he knew was there. Sure enough, in the back of the closet in the master bedroom, far back on the top shelf, there was a shoebox containing a revolver and box of ammunition. Alastair packed it with his belongings and got in the car.

He had decided to drive back to Castle Rock rather than fly. If Scario was on the lookout for him, Alastair figured that driving would be less conspicuous and harder to track. If Alastair could get flight information, he was certain Scario could as well.

November 21, Castle Rock, CO

Alastair arrived back in Castle Rock the next morning. He quietly checked into a small motel on the edge of town and took his things inside. It had been arranged much like the room he’d shared with his dad, the most glaring difference being the presence of only one bed. The empty void in his chest began to slowly fill with grief. As he walked slowly around the room his eyes seemed to always drift back to the bed, lonely and solitary against the wall.

He wanted a drink now more than anytime he could ever remember. He pushed the thought away, shoved it away. He knew one drink would be too many and a hundred wouldn’t be enough. The last thing he could afford to do at this point was slip back into active alcoholism. It would not bring his father back, and it sure as hell wouldn’t save Nysa.

What he needed was sleep. It had been a very long trip and he was exhausted. He needed to rest before formulating a plan that had the remotest chance of success. He quickly undressed, climbed into bed, and immediately fell into a deep sleep, filled with violent and unmerciful dreams.

November 22, Castle Rock, CO

It seemed the week had taken more out of him than he had realized. He’d slept straight through until the next morning. When he woke, he was ravenous. Alastair went out and had a big breakfast at his new favorite diner, the B&B Café, then returned to his motel room to arrange his plan of attack. He couldn’t just let Scario do as he pleased, but he also couldn’t put Nysa’s life in danger. He had to find a way to first find Nysa, and then get to her before Scario could. That was one reason why Alastair couldn’t go to the police with Scario’s threats. If Scario felt the police breathing down his neck even more, Nysa might be the one to suffer the consequences.

One of the only links Alastair had to Scario was Stevens, and he was dead. But maybe there was something in the lawyer’s office that might tell him where Nysa went after she left the airport. The problem was getting in there. He was certain that the receptionist wouldn’t let him go rifling through Mr. Stevens’ office. Besides, the police had probably already taken anything they thought might be even remotely useful to the case.

His only chance was to find something a bit more obscure than what the police had been looking for, and that meant he would need time to search the office. He decided to break in over the weekend. That would give him the time he needed to search the place without having to worry about employees. He could do it during the daytime so he wouldn’t have to be concerned about someone catching a glimpse of a flashlight through a window and calling the police.

In the meantime, Alastair occupied his time by trying to hack into the computer system of the facility. He knew he’d be able to access it through the Internet, as one of the items that had been demanded at the time of purchase was the ability for someone outside the facility to access and control the system. It had seemed irresponsible at the time. Alastair had pointed out that it was an unnecessary risk and that it would make the system susceptible to attack from outside the compound. Why create that elaborate of a program and then not secure it from the outside world?

Now he knew. Scario’s arrogance demanded it. Not only did he want to be able to see what was going on inside the building, he also wanted to be able to control the system if need be. He’d probably never need to, quite honestly probably never should, but he wouldn’t give up the power to do so. This would now hopefully work in Alastair’s favor. Now that he knew what he was looking for, it was just a matter of filtering through all of the garbage on the Web to get to it. It would be a small miracle if he found it in time.

I know that it was reckless and that I shouldn’t have done it, but the look on his face when he figured it out was priceless. I could see the conflict in him as he tried to control the rage that must have been eating at his insides like acid. Even taunting him a bit had not been able to cause him to snap. Maybe he will heed my warning though and stay in Texas. As Thomas is no longer available to carry out my tasks, it would be a hassle to have him disposed of. On the subject of Thomas, it’s unfortunate that I lost him on this last little errand. With Mr. Stevens’ body found and the killing of the old man, it’s only a matter of time before they look to me for answers. They have nothing that could incriminate me at the moment, but I don’t need the headache of them lurking about. With the way they tend to drag their feet, the project should be finished before they actually get around to making a serious search for me. This is all assuming Alastair doesn’t give them a reason to come for me sooner. Maybe I should have just killed him in Texas. It would have been easy enough for me. Never mind. It will all be irrelevant soon enough. Alastair won’t put Nysa’s life in danger, the project will be completed as planned, and nothing else will matter after that. The problems at the facility have lessened to a normal level. It would appear that I will have no more interference.

November 24, Castle Rock, CO

Alastair came in through the front door. He hadn’t figured out how to break into the office without crashing through a window so he had stolen the receptionist’s keys. Yesterday he’d followed her to lunch and while she’d been eating, Alastair paused by her table and bent down as if to tie his shoe. The keys had been sitting right on top in her purse and he had grabbed them and continued on his way out of the restaurant. He felt bad that she would be inconvenienced by the fact that he also had her car and house keys, but he figured she might have objected if he’d asked her which one was for the office so that he could steal it.

He locked the door behind him, thankful that no additional security measures appeared to have been taken. A burglar alarm would have put a very large fly in his ointment. The blinds were already closed, so he didn’t have to worry about anybody looking in and seeing him. Although the office was dim, he was still able to see and would now have the time to make a proper search of the premises.

Checking the computer files was impossible as the police had taken the hard drives with them to review at the station. There were also no day organizers, desk calendars, or client files. Alastair went through one drawer after another, but he could tell that he’d have to be lucky to find anything useful.

After four hours of hunting, Alastair had found nothing of interest in Mr. Stevens’ office. While frustrated, he hadn’t really expected to find a large treasure map sitting on the attorney’s desk with an enormous X to mark the spot to find Scario. He walked out of the lawyer’s office and sat at the receptionist’s desk to contemplate his next move. Where could he go from here? Who could he talk to?

As he grappled with these questions his eyes found the rolodex sitting on the corner of the reception desk. He might be able to find someone in there. He flipped through the cards, looking for anything he might recognize or that looked out of place. He skimmed through it once and found nothing. He was dejected, but decided to give it one more look. There it was, his one shred of hope. There was one card for a car service. He took the card and put it in his pocket, hoping that upon arrival at the airport Mr. Stevens had reserved a car to transport the doctors to the facility.

Alastair then wiped down all the surfaces he could remember touching and, as casually as he could manage, left the offices and locked the door behind him. He felt confident. He had two viable leads to pursue in his quest to find Nysa, the car service and through hacking. He’d spent so long feeling as if he were chasing his tail, but now his mind raced with possibilities and plans of attack. If one avenue didn’t work, he’d still have the other. However, to ensure his success, he decided to attack each as if it were his only hope. In this way, he hoped to maximize the chances of success.

November 30,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

The biggest news traveling through the labs that morning was the discovery of Dr. Leyden’s body the previous day. The cleaning crew had found him crucified to the wall above his bed. Only a few details of the violent death were known. His face was a mask of terror, eyes wide open staring at the empty room, mouth agape in a silent scream. The wall to which he had been nailed was stained with blood but, although the wound to his abdomen extended all the way through his back, there was no mark on the wall from the weapon. Blood flowed down his legs and dripped into a crimson pool on his pillow.

The maids who found him were silently and quickly removed from the premises—to where, nobody knew. Rumors flew around the facility, each as absurd as the next. Some people thought that he had done something to compromise the project and was eliminated for his insubordination, but the most outlandish Nysa heard was that Jacqueline had killed him in a jealous rage.

Nysa took the news hard. She had not been particularly fond of Dr. Leyden, but he was a fine doctor and a decent human being. While he was curt at times with her, Mary Alice, and Laura, she’d figured him for a lonely man who had trouble relating to others. She wanted to go to services for him, but she could find nobody who knew when, or even if, there was going to be a funeral for him. For that matter, nobody even seemed to know where the body had been taken. Nysa asked several of the people who appeared to work directly for Mr. Scario, including Bekki, but no one seemed to know anything about whether or not there would be an internment of any sort.

Nysa struggled with the apparent lack of remorse over Dr. Leyden’s death and the sense that the tragedy was disregarded not only by the staff of the facility, but the other members of the medical team, his own coworkers and peers. She decided to hold a silent vigil in her room. It seemed an absurdly small token, but it was better than nothing. She sat alone for roughly an hour before getting up and leaving her room.

She took a walk around the facility to clear her head. She needed to be back soon to go to the obstetrical appointment with Jacqueline, but she needed time to straighten her thoughts out. She made sure to not stray too far from the building as she didn’t want to run in to any of the guards. When it was time to meet Jacqueline, Nysa returned to her room, changed for the appointment, and escorted her friend to the clinic.

The baby was still progressing normally, so most of the appointment revolved around Restless Leg Syndrome and the constant pain in Jacqueline’s lower back. For both, the doctor recommended massage treatments. He advised her to make sure that the masseuse or masseur was one of the ones trained in pregnancy massage however, as they could inadvertently trigger a premature labor if they weren’t careful.

Jacqueline and Nysa both agreed that massages sounded like a good idea and walked together to the spa facilities, chatting idly about how the weather had turned much colder and how they were looking forward to getting home.

“Not that it’ll be much warmer where I’m headed to,” said Jacqueline as she walked onto the elevator and hit the button for the proper floor. “Maybe I’ll just go home with you to sunny southern California where people put sweaters on if it falls below seventy, which would be about twice a year from what I understand.”

“Don’t let all the talk fool you. It fell below seventy at least seven days last year, and I think it even fell below sixty one day. I couldn’t say for sure because I wouldn’t go outside. It looked much too cold for me.” They both laughed and walked into the spa.

It was a wonderful day of massage, milk baths, and facials. By the time they were done, any thoughts or sorrow over Dr. Leyden’s violent death had been temporarily forgotten. They finished up and went back to Jacqueline’s room. There they sat on the bed eating ice cream and watching old movies. Having gorged themselves on Häagen Dazs and still relaxed from the spa treatments, they both drifted off to sleep.

I am still trying to find out what happened to Dr. Leyden. I find the manner in which he died most disturbing. Who would do such a thing and why? For now my only option is to have the staff continue their investigation despite the lack of results thus far. Hopefully the medical team will forget about it and focus on their work. It’s not the fact that the good doctor was crucified that bothers me. It’s the lack of evidence and circumstances surrounding his murder that concern me. The missing mark on the wall that the staff seems to have become aware of is merely the tip of the iceberg. As of yet, the security team has been unable to locate the usage of a keycard to gain access to Dr. Leyden’s room. The logical answer to that problem is that the person who did this horrendous deed was known to the good doctor and he let the murderer into the room. That, however, does not explain the fact that there are also no keycard usages on the elevators to pick up nor drop off passengers during the timeframe in question. How did they get to his floor? How did they leave? There are no answers to these questions. The staff must not know of these mysteries. There is entirely too much talk as it is. If they find out about the other oddities it will only distract them further. Nothing can take their attention away from the task at hand. They must complete what they have started.

December 6, Castle Rock, CO

It took quite a few phone calls and numerous trips to the airport, but Alastair managed to confirm that the car company had in fact been used to transport the doctors to the facility. The car company manager told him that they did not have a record of the destination of the trips, only a point of origin. The scheduling clerk did remember that Mr. Stevens was quite secretive when it came to that information and paid quite handsomely to give it to the driver only at the time of pick up. Apparently Mr. Stevens had also insisted that only one driver be used to make all of the trips. That was all the information Alastair had been able to get out of her though.

Finding that driver’s name had proved to be a difficult task. The actual name of the driver had been acquired from one of the other employees. Alastair had gone to the airport and hunted down drivers from that company. Day in and day out he had gone there looking for drivers he’d not yet spoken to, either the person who’d done the actual driving or someone who knew who had. He’d finally found someone who recognized a picture of Nysa. The driver told Alastair that he remembered her because he’d wished he could be the one to give her a ride. He followed up the comment with a suggestive wink and a smile. Alastair had to fight the urge to punch the man in the nose.

It had been frustrating how long it had taken. Alastair had expected to find Nysa by now. Instead, he’d only managed to find the name of the person who had done the driving, but no contact information. A small victory, but even the smallest of accomplishment was something.

On his other front, after having to once again recruit his old friends into a life of crime, Alastair managed to locate the gateway into his program. He had been shocked, yet not surprised by the display of arrogance in Scario’s logon ID and password. It was common knowledge in the hacking world that most individuals were less than creative in their selection of IDs and passwords, but Scario’s went beyond the normal lack of security. Alastair had managed to hack into the building’s security systems in less than five minutes.

During his earlier conversation with his father about Scario being “The Betrayer,” Carl had proposed that Scario was in fact a shortened version of his real name. While Alastair thought it an odd alias, he tried the full name they’d discussed. Scario had actually used his first name as his logon and his last name as his password. How egotistical could one get?

After getting in, Alastair had used the backdoor he’d placed into Unique and accessed the programming of the system. He needed to refamiliarize himself with the workings of the system in order to find a way to sneak in physically. After a few hours playing with the coding, he decided to actually take a look at the security in place within the compound. If he managed to find the location of the building, he’d need to see what he’d be up against when he arrived.

He was distraught by what he saw.

December 10,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

“Mr. Scario wants to induce delivery early,” stated the doctor after he examined Jacqueline and the baby.

“Why?” asked Jacqueline and Nysa in unison.

“He figures that his employees would like to go home for Christmas. Once the baby is delivered, the project is complete. Then everyone is free to go.”

“Is there any danger to the baby?” inquired Jacqueline, placing her arms protectively across her belly.

“Not much,” replied the doctor hesitantly. “It’s not uncommon to induce labor, just usually not this early. As for the baby’s health, I’m not too concerned. He seems to be growing quite strong. I would guess he’s about five pounds and eighteen inches long. Over the next two weeks he’ll put on roughly two pounds and his lungs should mature. A seven pound baby has excellent chances of survival.”

“So why do you seem reluctant to induce, Doctor?” asked Nysa.

“I don’t ever like to induce delivery early. The only time I believe it should be done is when the mother or baby is at risk. In this case, neither of you have any condition that would necessitate my inducing labor early.”

“Did you tell Mr. Scario what you think?”

“I told him my feelings on the subject, yes. But I’m sure you know that Mr. Scario has a certain agenda and he’s not going to let my objections stand in his way.” He put up his hand as the women started to object. “He knows that the baby and mother are both in good health, and that the baby will most likely thrive, even if born today. He knows more about your current condition, and the condition of the child, than almost anyone here, including you two. In fact, I’m meeting with him as soon as I’m done here.” Nysa and Jacqueline exchanged a quick glance at the news. Seeing the quizzical look the doctor continued. “He requires updates after every examination. He reads all of my medical reports and even asks additional questions if I happen to leave something out. He’s meticulous in his following of you and your baby. He wants his Christmas Eve baby and he’s going to have it. I agreed because I have been watching the development of you and the baby over the last thirty-two weeks. I feel it would be unfair of me to pass you off to another doctor this late in your pregnancy. Also, should there be any complications, I want to be there. He chose me for the same reason he chose you Nysa, I’m the best at what I do.” The doctor wheeled himself backward, away from the examination table, removing his gloves as he slowed to a stop. “Now, if neither of you have any more questions or concerns, I prescribe another spa treatment for the both of you.” The doctor winked and turned to go.

“Won’t they need to see the prescription?” Jacqueline asked jokingly.

The doctor wheeled around, pulled his prescription pad from his pocket, scribbled a note, dropped it on the bed next to Jacqueline, and turned and left the room. She picked it up and read it, giggled and showed it to Nysa. It read: 2 massages of 90 minutes each and see me next Friday, 9:00 A.M. sharp.

“It’s good to see there are still doctors out there with a sense of humor,” Jacqueline said getting up. She quickly dressed then tugged on Nysa’s arm. “Let’s go, these are some doctor’s orders I can definitely follow.”

December 10, Castle Rock, CO

Alastair had been up working steadily over the last few days studying the various security elements installed at the secret facility. As best he could tell, and as best as his small network of friends could tell, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he’d be able to break in to find Nysa. In order to get in, the first obstacle he’d have to overcome would be the patrolling guards. He’d seen them while flipping through some of the security cameras. It appeared they were heavily armed. Although he wasn’t familiar enough with rifles to tell what, exactly, they were carrying, he guessed it would be extraordinarily uncomfortable to be shot regardless of the firearm used.

The next security feature he’d have to defeat would be BLIDs (buried line intrusion detection). He’d had to look these up to figure out exactly what they were. It was not a comforting discovery. There was a grid of fiber-optic cables buried around the building which would activate alarms should he step anywhere in their vicinity. He guessed that the roaming guards knew where they could and couldn’t step, but he didn’t have the faintest clue how to get past them, short of walking up the main driveway. Maybe that’s what the guards had to do as well.

To make it an even more difficult task, he’d have to accomplish this feat while out in the middle of an open landscape monitored by motion-sensing, closed-circuit televisions, and brightly lit by multiple spotlights. In summary, he’d have to sneak past armed guards patrolling the grounds, across an open field crisscrossed with BLIDs, all the while avoiding being seen by motion-sensing security cameras as well as the guards.

And that would only get him to the building, not into it. For that he’d need an ID card to gain access through the lobby door of the building. There were other doorways, but from what he could tell they were all fire exits only and had no accessibility from the outside—other than waiting for someone to exit through one and then trying to sneak in. This appeared to be an option until he noticed that they were alarmed and would doubtlessly draw the guards’ attention if opened. All the windows, regardless of which floor they were on, were also alarmed. Alastair knew there was no way he’d be able to break into the compound. A sense of hopelessness flooded through him. He slumped down in his chair and began rubbing his temples.

On the bright side, he knew that if by some miracle he was able to actually access the building, he’d be able to move about with ease. Alastair was sure he would be able to rewrite the security system to allow him access to any area he desired, and he was fairly certain he’d be able to cover his tracks through the process. The last thing he wanted was for them to realize his intentions and find him before he could locate Nysa. It would take some time to reprogram, but he was pretty confident in his abilities.

The first order of business was to order a Fargo Electronics card printer and a few Phonex Wireless Web Jacks. With the card printer he could program himself a ghost card that would allow him to move throughout the building without being tracked, assuming of course he could get in. He had it shipped overnight to ensure he would have it in time to create the card he required.

He would also need to write a program that would tell the security system not only to hide the identity of the card holder, but also to delete the record of the door having been opened. What would be a bit more difficult to write would be the program to freeze the closed-circuit television signals being broadcast in the area he was entering. It wouldn’t do him any good to hide the fact that he was moving through the building if the guards could watch him on the security cameras. However, as he had written the original security program, it wouldn’t take him too long to write a virus to infect the system when the time came.

While writing the needed programs and learning how to use his new card reader and writer, Alastair also made sure to continue his pursuit of the only other option he had, the driver of the car. It was slow going.

December 17,

Outside Castle Rock, CO

At the end of the appointment, they reviewed the schedule for the next week. To ease her nerves, the doctor explained the entire process. Jacqueline was to arrive at the office at 9:00 AM on Christmas Eve to start the induction process. He told her about ripening of her cervix by vaginally administering a gel called Cervidil. They would then rupture her amniotic sac and administer Pitocin via an intravenous drip to induce the labor. He assured her that the baby would be monitored throughout the process and if there were any signs of fetal distress, he would immediately terminate the procedure or deliver the baby via Cesarean section. All the equipment and staff would be ready should the need arise, but he anticipated a smooth, uncomplicated delivery.

Nysa and Jacqueline left the medical facilities together and took the elevator up to the spa facilities to soak away their worries in a nice milk bath, trying not only to rid their minds of the recent unpleasantness, but also avoid letting their imaginations get the best of them regarding the upcoming birth.

Rumors continued to circulate about the death of Dr. Leyden, but they were becoming tamer as time passed. The most prominent one circulating at the moment was that someone had somehow managed to break into the compound and kill him. The question of why was never addressed, nor was the how for that matter.

“I overheard one of the guards say they couldn’t trace any card key access to his room during the time of the murder,” Jacqueline whispered to Nysa one day in the elevator. Nysa turned and looked questioningly at her friend. “Just something I heard. Strange, huh?” Nysa’s brow furrowed. The elevator arrived and she walked quietly to her room.

December 22, Castle Rock, CO

Once again it took him longer than expected to get the information he wanted, but he was finally able to track down a number for the driver by hacking into the phone company databases.

“Hello?” answered the voice on the other end of the line.

“Margaret?” asked Alastair.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“My name is Alastair. I was wondering if I could get your help with something. Back at the beginning of the year, you picked up a bunch of doctors from the Colorado Springs airport. Do you remember?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied warily.

“Do you remember where you took them?” he inquired.

“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Alastair.”

“Sorry, Alastair, but I was tipped quite nicely with the understanding that the destination for those trips would stay on a need-to-know basis and, according to Mr. Stevens, nobody else needs to know.”

“Mr. Stevens is dead, Margaret.”

“What? When, how?”

“He was killed back at the end of October. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. They found his body up in the mountains. Somebody broke his neck.”

“I’m not sure I want to get involved in this. Actually, if people are being killed, I know I don’t.”

“Margaret, please listen. All I want to know is where you took them. One of those doctors is my fiancée and I need to find her. You are the only person I know of who knows where the facility is. Please help me.”

“I’m sorry.” The line clicked as she hung up.

“Fuck!” shouted Alastair, throwing down the phone.

He spent the rest of the evening at the hotel using his laptop to run Internet searches for Margaret. He didn’t have her last name so he was limited to trying reverse searches on the phone number he had. After a couple of hours he was able to retrieve both her last name and an address. Obviously he’d spooked her when he mentioned Mr. Stevens’ murder. He would have to assure her that no harm would come her way for telling him what he needed to know. He decided to wait until daylight to approach her again. Alastair grabbed the Bible from the bedside table and opened it to Revelations. He had a long night ahead of him and decided to do a little research on the remaining signs of the Apocalypse.

Alastair awoke to the dull buzz of static originating from the television. It was after midnight. He groaned to himself as he rolled out of bed and stumbled across the room to turn off the television. Since he was up, he decided to start up the coffee machine and take care of another order of business. Since he really had no way of overcoming the security measures in place at the facility, his only other option would be to shut down the system so that he would have only the guards to deal with. Unfortunately, this also meant they would be on high alert and trigger happy. But it had to be done. He couldn’t find any other options that would allow him access to the building.

The only way to mitigate the potential danger would be to sporadically shut down the system so that when the time came, the guards would be more inclined to treat it as a mere annoyance rather than a breach in the security system. He signed on to the system using Scario’s logon and ID and spent the next few minutes searching for a very specific system maintenance code he’d installed when he’d initially written the program. When he located it, he changed as little of the code as he could while still achieving the desired effect. The system would now shut itself down on a random basis, but at least once a day, for at least an hour.

He also ensured that nobody at SecTech would be able to locate the source of the problem by camouflaging it in an obscure location in the program. If he managed to make his way into the building undetected, he had to be sure of how much time he’d have to locate Nysa. He didn’t want anyone to be aware that the system was being tampered with from the outside, so he was very careful to cover his tracks as he wound his way back out of the security server.

December 23, 3:17 PM

Los Angeles, CA

“Thank you for calling SecTech. This is Suzy. How may I help you?”

“Hello. My name is Joseph. My boss purchased one of your products and we are currently having problems with it. I need it fixed, pronto. As in yesterday. Can you help?”

“What is the name of the system, sir?” Suzy asked as she pulled out her notepad.

“Unique.”

“And what seems to be the problem with the system?”

“It’s keeps shutting down. I’m not sure why.”

Suzy sat on the phone with the man for the next hour trying to troubleshoot the problem. She finally gave up, took down Joseph’s contact info, and called in her assistant.

“Please take this information out to one of the technicians. I don’t really care which one. I don’t have time to deal with it right now. Have them call this man back and see if they can fix the problem.” The young woman took the paper and hurried back out of the office, closing the door behind her. Suzy leaned back in her chair and stretched. “Wish you’d come back, Alastair,” she said to herself. “I could really use your help around here.”

Today is the day. My peace will come at last. It has been too long in the making. I have been forced to wander this Earth for far too long as punishment for my betrayal of Christ. I have sinned, yes, but isn’t that why the Son of God died on the cross, to save us from our sins? The Church continues to preach of a God who will forgive you of your sins if one accepts Jesus Christ as their savior and the true Son of God. I have done this; where is my absolution? Where is this merciful God I keep hearing about?

If you are not going to end it for me, I will do it myself. Damn you for abandoning me in my greatest time of need. We will meet again. Soon. Today. Nobody will ever read this diary so I feel free to sign my real name for the first time in ages.

Judas Iscariot

December 24, 7:15 AM Jerusalem, Israel

This was to be his last day on Earth. He stood at the Zion Gate in Jerusalem, facing south, watching the shadows stretch out before him as the sun rose in the eastern sky. The glare of the sun off the windshield of a slow-moving taxi cab caused him to squint.

His black overcoat hung open and swirled in the wind gusting through the narrow streets. His brand new black and white pinstriped suit was still stiff with starch and his gold watch glistened in the morning light. The freshly pressed black shirt and tie complemented his suit perfectly. He’d had his shoes polished this very morning and could almost see his reflection. His dark brown hair was tossed about by the wind.

His eyes drifted over the old bullet holes still scarring the ancient wall around the Zion Gate. The brown stones used to construct the wall had held up remarkably well over the years since it had first been assembled. He looked down at the Star of David built into the road leading into the tunnel. His wandering eyes finally found what they’d been searching for.

He stared intently at the building in the distance, the powerful gaze of his blue eyes focused only on that ancient monument. Ahead of him, atop Mount Zion, stood the Dormition Church and beside it, on the second floor, the Cenacle. That was the room where his seemingly timeless journey had started, and after waiting what seemed an eternity, this was where he wanted to be for the end. It wasn’t quite as he remembered it, but that had been so long ago. He found it remarkable how the landscape changed over time. Buildings he had believed would stand forever were torn down, although in this case the church had been rebuilt.

He held his sign loosely, content with the message he was trying to spread, his ego demanding the attention. People in long coats scurried around him, trying desperately to get home or to work before the storm moved in. The day had begun sunny yet brisk, but a severe thunderstorm was expected for later that morning.

The cold didn’t bother him on this day; he was at peace. Finally, everything he had been waiting for was about to unfold. He absentmindedly ran his right thumb over the scar running from behind his right ear and down across his throat and watched as the clouds he exhaled evaporated into the cold dawn air. He became lost in his memories, drawn backward to that fateful day. An eternity had passed since he had received that wound. It was his last mark of humanity. Everything since then had been a curse. He could hardly believe it was all about to finally end.

Drawn back to the here and now, he realized that not many people would make eye contact with him. Many would stare at him and then glance down at their shoes the minute he looked back. Strange that they would treat him like a vagrant on the street, rambling on to himself about the end of the world. They didn’t know. They didn’t want to know. They all wanted to think he was crazy, but he knew he was right. He had been planning for so long, saving for so long, wanting for so long. Now all of his hard work would pay off. His perseverance and enormous expense would come to fruition. Now, on this day.

He didn’t speak. His sign said it all. The end is now.

December 24, 6:45 AM

Colorado Springs, CO

Alastair sat outside her house and waited. He’d gotten up early, dressed warmly, ensured the gun was loaded, and driven to her house. He’d parked a couple of houses down while it was still dark; now he watched and waited. He’d only get one opportunity, and he couldn’t afford to blow it. So he sat and drank his now-tepid coffee, using his laptop to check on the status of Unique as well as checking the side pocket of the case for the jacks. Compulsively, he looked in his wallet again to make sure he’d brought the keycards he’d created. In the event his plans went smoothly, he’d need them by the end of the day. Occasionally he would sink down in his seat to avoid being seen by a passing car, but at this time of morning there were very few.

Shortly after seven o’clock, the garage door opened and her car pulled out. As she paused to make sure the garage door closed behind her, Alastair started the car and pulled out to follow her. He had difficulties as there was no other traffic for him to hide in. Luckily, Margaret didn’t notice him tailing her and drove slowly to the car service offices to pick up a company car and report to the airport.

Alastair followed her on her runs in and out of the Colorado Springs Airport for the next five hours. He almost lost her on more than one occasion but was lucky enough to catch her coming out of the small airport.

December 24, 7:00 AM

Outside Castle Rock, CO

They decided to have a light breakfast before reporting to the medical facilities. They sat in the cafeteria near the windows overlooking the grounds. It had snowed the previous night and the countryside was decorated in a beautiful, brilliant white powder as yet undisturbed by human or animal intrusion. Jacqueline looked forward to sharing days like these with her son, bundling up to play in the snow, rushing inside to warm back up with large cups of hot chocolate. Rosy cheeks, runny noses, and years of laughter and fun raced through her mind. She couldn’t have planned a more beautiful day for her new start. She glanced across the table and saw that Nysa, too, was admiring the breathtaking view.

“What are you thinking?” Jacqueline asked.

“Just thinking about Alastair. It’s almost time to go home. I was wondering what he’s doing, how he’s doing.” Nysa stopped abruptly and shifted in her seat.

“And?” Jacqueline prodded.

“And if he’s waited for me,” Nysa muttered. “He said he’d wait for me no matter how long it took, but I just don’t know. Not for sure, anyway.”

Jacqueline reached across the small table and took Nysa by the hand. “Of course he’s waiting for you, honey. He’d be crazy not to. I wouldn’t be concerned about him not being there when you get home, I’d be more concerned about him not letting you leave once you get there. The man’s been celibate for almost a year now. You probably won’t be able to leave the bedroom for the first week, at least.”

Nysa smiled mischievously. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh, you’re horrible,” Jacqueline teased, sitting forward in her chair, picking up her fork, and taking a bite of her scrambled eggs.

“I can’t help it. He’s great in bed. What can I do?”

“Sucks to be you,” Jacqueline replied with a grin. “But seriously, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. From what you’ve told me about Alastair, he’d be there if you didn’t get out of here for ten years. And he should wait. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, caring woman. Hell, I’d wait a year for you.”

“Thanks,” Nysa answered, shifting her gaze back out the window.

Jacqueline ate a well-balanced meal to make sure she had the strength for the long day that awaited her. After breakfast, they cleared the table and went back to Jacqueline’s room so she could take a quick bath. Sitting in the tub, Jacqueline could feel the baby kicking and rolling around.

“Apparently he’s excited, too,” Jacqueline told Nysa, tapping on her belly.

“Is he up and moving around?” asked Nysa as she came into the bathroom and leaned over the tub to try and see some movement.

“Feels like he’s doing gymnastics in here,” replied Jacqueline.

“Have you decided on a name for your little gymnast yet?” asked Nysa, pulling a chair in from the bedroom and sitting down.

Jacqueline looked at Nysa. “Not yet. I’m waiting to see him. I think once I look at him, it’ll just come to me.”

“Well, if that’s what you want.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I thought we’d decided on Engelbert Humperdinck,” Nysa giggled. “It’s got a nice ring to it. I’ve always loved it.”

“I was going to, but there’s only one Engelbert. I don’t want to put too much pressure on him. That’s a big name to try and live up to.”

“In his ultrasound pictures, he looks like an Engelbert,” Nysa said.

“I’ll keep it on the table for you,” smirked Jacqueline, “but only because you’ve been there for me.”

“Thanks,” smiled Nysa, leaning back in her chair.

“No. Thank you,” replied Jacqueline seriously. “You’ve been to every appointment with me. You were there the night I had my miscarriage, and you’ve listened when I needed someone to talk to. So thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“It’s been my pleasure hon. Really.” Nysa reached out and grabbed Jacqueline’s hand and they both sat in silence, savoring the moment.

After a very relaxing soak, Jacqueline got out, dried off, dressed, and began making her final preparations.

“A bit nervous, are you?” Jacqueline suddenly asked.

“What makes you say that?” Nysa replied, stopping in her tracks.

“You’ve been wandering around the room the entire time I’ve been drying off. Actually, you’ve been pacing the room. You OK?”

“A little nervous, but I’m alright. Sorry. You have enough to think about right now without me making it worse. I’ll try to settle down.”

“It’s OK, I just would hate for you to wear a path in the floor. Mr. Scario might have plans for this place and I’d hate for him to get upset when he finds a circle worn into his bathroom tile.” Jacqueline giggled and gave Nysa a hug. “You’re doing great. Thank you for being here with me, nervous pacing and all.” Nysa smiled and sat down.

When Jacqueline had finished her hair and brushed her teeth again, they packed two bags, one for Jacqueline and one for the baby. Mr. Scario had shipped in nearly two hundred outfits from which Jacqueline could choose the “coming home” outfit. The rest were to be sent home with them.

Nysa looked at her watch and with an eager smile took Jacqueline’s hand. “It’s time to go.”

December 24, 9:00 AM

Outside Castle Rock, CO

Nysa and Jacqueline stepped into the elevator and took it up to the medical facilities. Nysa carried the bags as Jacqueline waddled down the hall to the birthing room.

The doctor was waiting for them and smiled as they entered. He rose from his chair and walked over to them. “Is everybody ready?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“I’m a little nervous,” Jacqueline said meekly.

“You’ll do great,” Nysa reassured her as she set the bags in the corner.

“Everything will be fine,” replied the doctor. “Please get undressed. There’s a robe on the bed. The nurses will be in shortly to begin preparations.”

December 24, 10 AM

Outside Castle Rock, CO

Jacqueline sat on the bed wearing only her robe and the fetal monitor strapped around her stomach like a funky, hi-tech belt. She had gotten quite a laugh from all in attendance when she had asked for the matching purse. She feigned dismay when they told her they did not. Now she and Nysa sat playing cards until the Prostaglandin E-2 kicked in and softened her cervix enough to allow for the next step of the induction to take place.

The nurses came and went, watching her vital signs and those of the baby, but for the most part they left Nysa and Jacqueline alone to talk and play games. They were currently caught up in an intense game of slapjack. Nysa found that she was absolutely horrible at the game, but they were having fun and getting a good laugh so they dealt it out a few more times. They took a break when the doctor came in to check the progress of her cervix.

“Excellent,” said the doctor as he examined Jacqueline’s cervix with a gloved hand. “You’re coming along nicely.” He glanced at the cards on the table as he finished the exam, pushed back from the table, and stood up. “Slapjack, huh? I don’t mean to brag, but I’d crush you both,” he boasted.

“You leave that nasty latex glove on, and you’re probably right,” replied Nysa, eliciting a round of laughter from the other two. “You take it off, though, and my money’s on Jacqueline.”

“Let’s get it on,” countered the doctor, removing his gloves and stepping to the sink to wash up. Jacqueline grabbed the cards and began to shuffle.

“Maybe now I can get some competition,” she joked, winking at Nysa.

“What can I say?” asked Nysa. “I’m in the presence of a master, and I’m still a young grasshopper.” She gave a small bow. Jacqueline chuckled and dealt the cards as the doctor pulled up a chair next to the bed.

December 24, 12:00 PM Colorado Springs, CO

His first decent opportunity presented itself when she took her lunch break. She’d picked up some fast food, parked the car, and sat eating in the driver’s seat. Alastair contemplated getting out of the car, walking over to hers, and climbing into the back seat. The problem was he couldn’t be sure if the doors were unlocked or not. He decided to wait. He couldn’t afford to alert her to his presence until he was sure he’d get what he needed. So he waited, and he followed.

December 24, 11:10 AM

Los Angeles, CA

“SecTech, this is Suzy. May I help you?”

“Suzy, this is Joseph calling again. I’ve spoken with your technicians and nothing seems to be working. This has to be resolved, and I need it resolved today. I’ve been assured that we will receive the necessary assistance in this matter. It’s my understanding my employer spent quite a bit of money on this system, and that it would be in your company’s best interest to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Of course, sir. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Let me speak with my people and find out what else we can do to get this problem corrected. Do you mind if I call you back in the next hour or two with the status?” Suzy was scribbling furiously while at the same time holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder and using her free hand to IM the members of her team to meet in her office ASAP.

When she finished the call, her subordinates had all assembled in her office. “Okay, most of you are already working on this project, so I’ll keep it brief. One of our security systems, Unique, seems to have some kind of bug in it. The system is sporadically shutting down for an hour or two at a time. We’ve got to fix it. We’re trying to steal market share in this area, and it won’t do to have one of our best programs on the fritz. I want everyone on this until we get it fixed. Any questions?” she asked, stopping her pacing in the middle of the office and turning back toward the others.

No one spoke.

“Very well. Craig, you take the lead on this one. Divide it up however you see fit. I want a status update in an hour. Get to it.”

Craig, her new lead programmer, was already giving directions as everyone got up and hurried out of the office and back to their cubicles.

December 24, 12:15 PM

Outside Castle Rock, CO

The card game had died down a while ago and a nurse had gone upstairs to retrieve a few movies for Jacqueline and Nysa to watch. While they waited for her to return, the doctor examined Jacqueline’s cervix and checked her and the baby’s vitals. They were both doing quite well. However, she had not responded as much as expected to the first dose of prostaglandin, so a second was administered.

“I’m going to run down to my room to grab my crossword puzzles. You’ll be okay by yourself for a few minutes, right?” Nysa asked Jacqueline when the doctor was done.

“Absolutely,” Jacqueline replied. “Hey, can you stop by my room and pick up my book? It’s on the nightstand in my bedroom.”

“Sure,” Nysa responded as she grabbed Jacqueline’s room key. “Anything else I can get for you?”

“Nope. My trashy smut novel is just fine. Thanks.”

“I thought they were called romance novels,” Nysa joked as she headed to the door.

“I call a spade a spade. See you in a few.”

“Bye.”

Nysa walked briskly to the elevator, taking out her key card as she went. When she entered her room she paused. Something seemed different from when she’d left, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She made her way into the bedroom to her dresser, still perplexed by the feeling. She shoved her key in her pocket and grabbed her puzzles. She walked slowly through the rooms looking for something out of place but found the only thing different was her “window,” which had changed to show storm clouds moving slowly across the sky. She chuckled to herself, knowing the image had nothing to do with the weather outside.

Shrugging off the strange feeling, she exited her room and walked down the hallway, pulling out Jacqueline’s key as she went. She grabbed the book from the nightstand and returned to the elevator, pausing as she entered to take one last look at her door.

“Oh well,” she muttered, stepping into the elevator and using Jacqueline’s key to return to the medical floor.

December 24, 12:10 PM

Los Angeles, CA

Suzy looked up from her computer. “What have you got?”

Craig settled into a seat opposite her with a grim look on his face. “A whole lotta nothing is what I’ve got. I’ve tried everything I can think of from the basics of rebooting the system to every security patch we have. Nothing. It’s like the system has a mind of its own.”

Suzy slumped back into her chair. “That’s not what I wanted to hear. I don’t need any more problems, Craig, I need solutions.”

“If you give me enough time, I can go through the entire code bit by bit and find out what the problem is, but I can’t do that in the next hour. I’ve got everyone working as hard as they can, but I don’t think we can do what they’re asking in the time we’re given.”

As Craig was about to spew forth even more excuses, the phone rang. Startled, Suzy picked it up on the first ring. “SecTech, this is Suzy. Uh-huh. Okay. Thank you.” She set the phone back into its cradle. “That was Joseph. Apparently the system is back online. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Craig replied, puzzled. “But it’s probably not the result of anything we’re doing here. As far as I know everyone on the floor is reading code, not making changes. I told them to let me know if they found anything—anything—before they made any changes. I don’t want people fumbling around in the program and making things worse.”

“Good thinking.” Suzy leaned back in her chair, once again massaging her temples as she tried to come up with a new solution. “I wish Alastair were here. He wrote the damn thing, he might be able to fix it.”

“Give him a call,” Craig answered. Suzy, shocked by his statement, started in her chair. He merely stared back at her.

“What? I can’t do that. He doesn’t work here any longer.”

“Why not? Hire him on as a consultant, have him fix his shitty program, and let’s be done with it. Like you said, he wrote it. He’ll have the best chance of finding the problem quickly and rewriting whatever is causing the system shutdown. What’s the big deal?”

Suzy was at a loss for words. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Why was she hesitant to call him? She picked up the phone and dialed Alastair’s cell phone from memory. He didn’t answer so she left him a brief message describing the problem and leaving her number. “Please call me back as soon as you get this message. We really need your help on this one. Hope everything is going well. Thanks, Alastair. Bye.” She hung up the phone. “While we wait for him to call back, get back out there and see what you can do.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Craig got up and left the room.

December 24, 2:00 PM

Colorado Springs, CO

This wasn’t working. If he didn’t think of something soon, he would miss his chance. He worked scenarios over and over in his mind until it finally hit him. He called the car company from his cell phone.

“Reservations, may I help you?” asked the voice at the other end.

“Yes, I’m flying in to Colorado Springs and wanted to schedule a pick-up please. I’ll be arriving at 3:00 this afternoon and would like somebody to be waiting out front at 3:15.”

“That can certainly be arranged, sir. May I have your name?”

“Mann. Carl Mann,” he answered, not wanting to use his real name. “And I’d like to reserve Margaret, please. She’s driven for me before, and I’d prefer to have her again. I will pay extra if needed.”

“That’s not necessary, Mr. Mann. I see that she is available at that time. May I get the destination, please?”

Alastair gave her the address of his hotel.

“And may I get your credit card information to finalize the reservation?”

Alastair gave her the number, expiration, and name. “But only my mother calls me Alastair” he lied. “Everyone else calls me Carl.”

“Very good, sir. Margaret will pick you up at the Colorado Springs Airport at 3:15. I’ll put a notation on the slip to pick you up outside the terminal.”

“Thank you very much.” Alastair hung up the phone and set it on the seat next to him. Flipping on the radio he turned the car around and headed back to the airport to park and wait for his imaginary flight to land.

December 24, 2:30 PM

Outside Castle Rock, CO

The exam had shown a clear progression of effacement and dilation of Jacqueline’s cervix.

“Very nice,” said the doctor as he looked up. “Your cervix looks wonderful. What I’d like to do now is rupture your amniotic sac.” After placing a towel under Jacqueline’s buttocks, the doctor grabbed a long slender tool from the tray and inserted it into her vagina. A gush of fluids poured briefly over his hands and onto the towel. Jacqueline made a brief grimace and Nysa grabbed her hand.

“You’re doing great,” Nysa said smiling.

“Thanks, but I don’t think that was much compared to what I’ll feel later.”

“Perfect,” announced the doctor as he stood up and took his gloves off. “Now we’ll open up the Pitocin drip and get your labor started. If you start to feel uncomfortable, let me know and I’ll have the anesthesiologist administer an epidural. It’ll help mask the pain of the contractions.”

“Thanks, but I’d like to do this naturally if I can,” answered Jacqueline.

“Let me know if you change your mind. There’s nothing wrong with getting an epidural.” The doctor turned and left the room as a nurse came in to start the I.V.

Nysa sat next to the bed and held Jacqueline’s hand as the nurse put the needles in, readjusted the fetal monitor, and took vital signs. When she was done and had left the room, Nysa grabbed Jacqueline’s book off the nearby table and held it out to her.

“Want to do some reading? I think that after that Pitocin kicks in and labor starts, you won’t be in much of a mood. Besides, I’m tired of losing to you in slapjack.”

Jacqueline took the book. “Thanks.” She leaned back on the hospital bed to read as Nysa sat back to try and finish off one of the more difficult crosswords in the book.

December 24, 3:15 PM

Colorado Springs, CO

He sat on a bench holding a bag he’d bought inside. He’d figured it would look strange if he didn’t have at least a small bag with him so he’d purchased one and filled it with his laptop as well as a couple of sweatshirts from the same store. After going back to his car to retrieve the revolver, which he hid inside the sweatshirt, Alastair tried to relax as he waited for his ride.

He saw her immediately. She didn’t look anything like he’d imagined from her voice. She was in her mid to late twenties, petite, with long brown hair held back in a ponytail. She was holding a small sign with Carl Mann written on it and scanning the exiting passengers’ faces for a sign of recognition. As Alastair approached she set the sign in the car and stepped toward him.

“Mr. Mann?” she inquired.

“Yes, thank you,” he answered. “I’d like to hold onto this if you don’t mind,” he added as she reached for his duffle bag.

“Of course not, Mr. Mann. Anything you’d like.”

She opened his door and he climbed in. She closed the door behind him, walked around the car, and settled into the driver’s seat.

“Did you have a pleasant flight?” she asked as she put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.

“Very,” Alastair answered. He withdrew the laptop from his bag, set it on the back seat and checked on the status of the Unique system. He could tell from the records that there had been multiple attempts by staff at SecTech to fix whatever was causing the system malfunctions. The problem was they were looking in the wrong location. Of course, none of the patches were working, and the system had already shut itself down twice today. Alastair would need one more window to do his work.

December 24, 4:07 PM

Castle Rock, CO

As Margaret pulled off the freeway and came to a stop, Alastair put the gun to the back of her head. She froze.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Margaret, but you have to help me. I’ve asked you nicely, but that didn’t work so now I have to resort to this. Now listen to me.” He had her pull into a nearby parking lot and kill the engine. He told her everything that had happened, starting with the offer from Scario up to her picking him up at the airport, stressing why he needed her help and that he needed it now.

“I want you to take me there right now,” he told her. “If we’re lucky, you’ll have time to get back to your family before the end. But if you say no, I’ll kill you right now. I have nothing to lose. I’m sure you can see that.”

She nodded.

“Good. Let’s go.”

She started the car nervously, fumbling her keys repeatedly as she tried to get them into the ignition. As she drove, Alastair sat in the back seat searching for the news on the radio. There was a small panel situated between the two front seats and Alastair turned the dial back and forth until he found a news channel with a clear signal. They listened to reports of unexplained mass fish deaths. From Brazil to Italy to Egypt, all varieties of marine life were washing ashore looking like they had exploded. Fishermen coming in to port told of the carcasses covering the waters like a film of oil. Some vessels required air rescue as their propellers were damaged beyond repair. Reports were pouring in regarding bodies of water from small streams to entire seas being fouled by the remains of dead fish and other aquatic life.

The next story was tied to the meteorite in Mississippi. Around the world, people were flocking to the urgent care and emergency facilities with what appeared to be severe burns. Sunlight appeared to intensify the symptoms. There was currently no explanation for the condition, but the news station was trying to tie it in with the only other major skin ailment facing the population, which had started with the landing of the meteorite.

His phone buzzed. Taking it from his pocket, Alastair saw the new message indicator and called his voicemail. “What the hell?” he whispered, frustrated that he’d missed a call. He quickly hung up the phone and dialed Suzy.

“SecTech, this is Suzy. How may I help you?”

He could hear the stress in her voice. “Hey Suz, it’s Alastair. What’s up?”

“We need your help bad, Alastair. The Unique program keeps shutting itself down. I’ve had every programmer and technician under me working on it nonstop since I got the call and nobody can figure out what the problem is. I know you don’t work for us any longer, but I need you on this one, for old times’ sake. Please.”

“Of course,” Alastair replied, the relief flowing through his body feeling not unlike an orgasm. He’d not wanted to make a frontal assault on the facility. This could turn out to be his golden opportunity. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“How soon can you make it into the office?”

“Not very quickly. I’m in Colorado.”

“Oh…hold that thought. Can you hang on for just a minute?” Suzy sounded excited.

“Sure.” Alastair could barely contain himself. This might be his opportunity to get onto the grounds without having to sneak in. Things would be so much easier if they invited him in the front door. He shifted and squirmed in his seat until Suzy came back on the line.

“Where in Colorado are you?” Suzy asked. “I just got off the phone with the head of their security. The facility is just south of Denver. If you’re in the area, you can just go there and work. It’ll be easier than trying to do it from here anyway.”

Not wanting to seem overeager, or raise suspicion by announcing he was only five minutes away from the facility, Alastair replied “I can be there in an hour. How do I get there?” He pulled out a notebook and took down the directions from Suzy. When she finished, there was an uncomfortable pause.

“Thanks for doing this, Alastair. You’re a real life saver. I don’t know how I can make this up to you.”

“I’m happy you called Suzy, and thank you.”

“I’ll let them know you’ll be there in about an hour. And Alastair, give me a call when you get back in town. I’ll take you and Nysa out to dinner at the nicest place in town. You really saved my ass on this. Thanks again.”

“No problem, Suzy. God bless.” Alastair hung up the phone and told Margaret to stop the car.

“Why?” asked Margaret, glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

“I just got a call from an old friend. They know we’re coming.” He saw the frightened look in her eyes. “Don’t worry, they’re expecting me to come in and fix their security system, but I can’t very well show up ten minutes after their call, now can I? Don’t you think they might be a little suspicious?”

“I…I guess.”

“So what we’re going to do is drive around for about an hour and then go. I told them I was up in Denver so it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that I show up at about that time. Are you up for this?” inquired Alastair, leaning forward in his seat. “You look stressed.”

She pulled to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes. She turned around in her seat and glared at him.

“Stressed? I look stressed? I’ve been kidnapped by a man with a gun. I’m being forced to take him to a location where, according to you, someone has already been killed, and now you want me to drive you right up to the gates and drop you off? Of course I’m stressed! How would you feel?” She was now fighting back tears.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing he could think to say. “Listen, I’m sorry I had to drag you into this, but you are the only person I’ve been able to find who knows where this place is. Believe me, my life would have been a lot easier if I hadn’t had to track you down. I know you don’t trust me, but I will do everything in my power to protect you from any harm. Struggling to keep the situation from escalating, he stammered on. As soon as you drop me off, leave as quickly as you can without drawing suspicion to yourself. As far as they know you are merely a driver. If I’m successful in what I’m trying to do, the least of their concerns will be tracking you down. If I’m not, I think it’ll be the least of your concerns anyway. Either way, you won’t have to worry about them, okay?”

“O…okay,” she stammered.

“Anywhere you want to go for the next hour? I don’t think it wise to sit here on the side of the road until it’s time to go. I’d hate to try and explain to a curious cop what we’re doing here.”

She put the car back in gear and did a quick u-turn on the narrow road. “I don’t have anywhere in particular to go, but I think you’re right about not hanging around. If you don’t mind, I’ll just cruise around until it’s time to drop you off.”

“Not at all,” Alastair replied.

After spending the next hour winding their way down the 85 and through the streets of Castle Rock, they reversed their course and slowly made their way back toward the compound. The nearer they got to it, the more visibly upset Margaret became.

“I need you to settle down, Margaret,” Alastair said softly from the back seat. He leaned forward. “I need you to act like it’s any other routine trip. If we show up and you’re sweaty and looking nervous, the guards might be tipped off that something is amiss. If that happens, I don’t know what will happen, but I don’t think either of us wants to find out. Just try to relax. Think about whatever is waiting at home for you when you get home this evening. Think about sitting down with a nice glass of wine and a book. Anything, but you need to get that look off your face. I can tell something is up, and I’m only looking at the back of your head.”

“I’m trying,” she whimpered. “I’m just so scared.”

“There’s nothing for you to be scared of if we do this right. They’re expecting me. They don’t know that I’ve already been trying to get there. There’s no reason for them to question you. You’re just doing your job.”

“I’ll try.” She shifted in her seat and took a deep breath. Alastair could see her trying to relax.

“Good. Let’s just take it nice and easy and everything will be fine.” They pulled up to the gate a short time later.

“I’m here to drop off Mr. Mann,” she told the guard.

“Sorry, I don’t have you on the schedule.”

“Then put me on the schedule,” she snapped. “I was told to drop off Mr. Mann.”

“May I see your ID? Thank you, just a moment.” The guard stepped back into the booth and picked up the phone. Alastair could see her tensing in her seat.

“Nice and easy,” he whispered.

The guard spoke for a few moments, then hung up the phone and walked back to the car. He handed her the ID. “Nobody bothered to call and put you on the authorized persons list. I just spoke with my boss and he cleared you. Sorry for the inconvenience.” The guard stepped back inside and flipped the switch to lift the gate. “Have a good day, ma’am.”

Alastair heard the expulsion of air from her lungs as she rolled up the window and proceeded through the checkpoint.

“Well done. I don’t think anyone could have done better. I especially liked the part where you told him to put you on the list. I don’t think I could have done that.”

“Like you said, just like any other drop off, right? You’re the customer, I answer to you. Sometimes you have to be a little stern with the guards to get your job done.” Alastair could see a smile form on her face in the rearview mirror. She pulled up slowly to the front doors, exited the car, and hurried around to open his door.

“Thank you, Margaret. Thank you for everything.” Before getting out of the car he had taken out all the cash he had in his wallet. He gave the two hundred and one dollars to her. “Here’s everything I have on me. I’d give you more if I had it. I can’t thank you enough. God bless you and your family.” Alastair shook her hand, grabbed his bag, and walked quickly to the door.

He was greeted by the largest and most intimidating man he’d ever seen. He opened the door as Alastair approached.

“Mr. Mann?”

“Yes.” Alastair replied. “I was told you have a problem.”

The mountain of a man stood aside so he could enter and closed the door behind him. Alastair swallowed hard as heard the click of the locking mechanism.

“Indeed we do. I’m Joseph, Chief of Security. For some reason the security program keeps shutting down. I’ve heard you are the best person to fix it. Is that right?” The man eyed him warily.

“Fortunately or unfortunately, yes,” Alastair said. “I was the lead programmer on Unique so I have the most intimate knowledge of the code.” Alastair shifted uneasily from foot to foot. He felt uncomfortable as the man looked him up and down, apparently sizing him up.

It seemed he passed the test, as the muscular man turned and walked to the elevators. “Right this way, Mr. Mann.” Alastair was silent during the short trip up to the second floor. They made their way through what appeared to be a cafeteria and a small restaurant to an out of the way and, in all ways, unremarkable door. The guard took a small card from his pocket, swiped it, and opened the door. “The server room,” he stated as Alastair stepped across the threshold into the cool, dry room. “I’m going to leave you here to do, well, whatever it is you need to do. If you need anything, or when you’re finished, there’s a phone over in the corner. Just dial 9-1-1, and you’ll be connected directly to me. I’ll get whatever you need, or come get you if you’ve finished. Is there anything you need before I go?”

“No.” Alastair answered. “Nothing I can think of. Thank you.” He stepped further into the room and set his laptop down on a small table.

“Very well.” The guard shut the door, leaving Alastair alone in the server room. He quickly opened his bag and connected his laptop to the security server. His first order of business had been determined the day of his father’s funeral. He would find and kill the man responsible for his father’s death.

He checked the security cameras to make sure a sentry had not been posted outside the door to the room. Next he flipped from camera to camera to locate the guards. From what he could tell, Joseph was the only one in the building and Alastair had seen him walk into a door marked Security on the first floor. From the blueprints Alastair knew that was the main security control room. He quickly checked his keycards to make sure they were working, plugged in one of the wireless web jacks, put the other one in his pocket along with the revolver and his iPOD, and moved over to the solitary door. He swiped one of his fake cards over the key card panel. If he’d programmed everything correctly, Joseph’s screen showing the back of the restaurant would freeze, showing only an empty corridor.

He slowly opened the door and peeked out. There was nobody around. He snuck down the hall, back through the empty restaurant and into the cafeteria. He pulled his iPOD out of his pocket and used it to access his laptop in the server room. Checking the security camera system, he verified his invisibility. He was standing in the dead center of the deserted cafeteria, yet the image he was looking at showed a room empty of any inhabitants.

Satisfied that his program was running smoothly, he hurried to the elevator, entered his card, and pushed the button for B-20, Scario’s master suite. The elevator lurched slightly before beginning its descent. Alastair stood waiting, expecting the doors to open at any moment to reveal a guard alerted to his activity. His heart jack-hammered in his chest; his palms were sweaty and slippery. Alastair turned his head to look at the floor indicator when the elevator arrived. He stepped out into a dimly lit hallway ending at a magnificent door. Scario’s suite occupied the whole level. He gave silent thanks that he hadn’t soiled himself and hustled down the short hall.

Alastair would ask him one question: Where is Nysa? Then he would kill him. Regardless of whether or not Alastair got his answer, he was going to kill the man. Rage began replacing his fear as images of his father lying on the bed in the hotel raced through his mind. His fury grew as his thoughts shifted to the cemetery, the warnings, and the condescending way Scario had spoken to Alastair. Alastair stepped quickly to the door, his blood boiling with hatred.

Utilizing his fraudulent card, he opened the door and walked in, gun at the ready, searching for any threats. He moved from one room to the next until he was sure he was alone. After searching the suite, Alastair began looking through Scario’s desk for anything that might help him find out what was going on and how he could find Nysa.

In the bottom left drawer of Scario’s desk, Alastair found reams of research regarding the Shroud of Turin. One Time magazine headline read “Shroud of Turin, Shroud of Mystery.” Alastair flipped to the article, which told of the carbon dating done on the Catholic Church’s acclaimed Shroud of Turin. The results dated the fabric well past the time of Jesus, more along the timeline of Leonardo da Vinci. In fact, many of the chemicals that were discovered in the supposed Shroud were extremely rare and originated from areas around Vinci, Italy. Some scholars believed the Shroud was painted by Leonardo himself as commissioned by the Church.

Flipping through the article, Alastair grew more and more uneasy with what he was finding. He stood up and wandered around the room looking at the artwork as well as the books lining the walls. He was searching for something and wasn’t quite sure what it was he was looking for, just that he’d know it when he found it. His collection was amazing. Alastair picked up a copy of what appeared to be a journal. He opened it to the first page and was shocked at the brittleness of the paper. The book was written in some foreign language so Alastair set it back down and continued perusing the shelves.

He finally discovered one written in English. He skimmed the entries, quickening his pace as he realized what he was looking at. The more he read the more he began to believe that not only had Scario been alive during the days of DaVinci, but also when Christ had walked the earth. He’d been alive for the last two thousand years! Judas Iscariot was not his alias, it was his true identity! Alastair felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach and collapsed into the chair. A cold sweat broke out across his brow and chilled him to the very core.

If he was, in fact, the man Alastair believed him to be, how would Alastair kill him? He was immortal, doomed to walk the earth until the second coming of Christ. There was nothing Alastair could do to him, nothing!

Terror and dread fought for control of his feelings. After a few minutes he managed to regain his composure. As much as he hated to admit there was nothing he could do to avenge his father’s death, his main purpose here was still attainable—to find Nysa. He set the book back on the shelf from which he had taken it and turned around. There on the desk sat the only thing in the room that might help him find Nysa: the computer. He sat down and turned it on.

December 24, 5:50 PM

They had both given up on their books and turned to watching one of the movies the nurse had brought down. They were far too nervous and excited to keep their minds focused, so while the movie played on the television, the women chatted intermittently about what was to come. Jacqueline was beginning to feel the beginnings of labor pains, but nothing painful enough to necessitate the epidural. Nysa sat by her, feeling nauseated with anticipation. She got up and got a drink of water to try and settle her stomach.

December 24, 6:05 PM

He stepped slowly off the elevator when it arrived, turned left, and walked to the door to Nysa’s room. His card worked on her door. He slipped inside and turned on the lights. Alastair made a brief tour of her room to confirm she wasn’t there. He recognized some of her personal effects, including a framed picture of the two of them on the nightstand, so he knew this was her room, but where she’d gone off to was impossible to tell.

The elevator bell sounded and Alastair froze. Did they know he was here? Were they searching for him? He removed the gun from his pocket and backed into the bathroom, giving him a clear line of sight to the bedroom door. He hoped there would be only one guard, if that’s who was coming. He could handle one with surprise on his side, but any more than that and he’d be in trouble. He heard the handle to the room move.

December 24, 6:15 PM

Alastair moved cautiously out of the bathroom toward the bedroom door. He kept his gun ready and glanced around the corner toward the front door. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he approached the door and looked through the peep hole. Nothing, the hallway was empty. Apparently it had only been a guard on his rounds and the noise Alastair had heard was him checking to make sure the door was locked. He watched and waited a while longer to see if anyone came out of the other room. When he was pretty sure the coast was clear, he pulled the other web jack out of his pocket, plugged it in, and sat down on the sofa with his iPOD.

According to the system, Nysa’s card had last been used to access the elevator on level fifteen and she had taken it up to level two just before 12:30 P.M. Alastair checked the map. She’d gone from her room to the medical facilities area, but that was six hours ago. She couldn’t still be there, could she?

“Well, it’s a lead,” he mumbled. “Better than sitting here waiting to get caught.”

After a quick peek into the hall to ensure it was empty, he walked swiftly to the elevator, pushed the call button, and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, gripping the gun tightly in his right hand. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if confronted by anyone before he found Nysa, but he hoped that if he just acted like he belonged, he wouldn’t be questioned. The elevator door opened and he stood face to face with one of the guards.

December 24, 6:30 PM

The contractions had come on with a vengeance and the anesthesiologist had been summoned to administer an epidural. Nysa was in a chair facing the bed as Jacqueline sat in a hunched over position trying to give the doctor as much room between her vertebrae as possible. Nysa held her hands and talked to her as the doctor passed the needle up and into her spine. The first attempt had been unsuccessful, and they were now going to make a second attempt in a separate location. Nysa’s nausea returned. As she sat listening to Jacqueline grunting and whimpering in pain she started to feel flushed. One of the nurses turned and saw the look on Nysa’s face.

“Are you okay?” the nurse asked.

“Yeah,” replied Nysa, trying to pull herself together. She started to sit up to look at what the doctor was doing when the room went black.

When she awoke, she was lying on the couch in the corner of the room. Nysa slowly sat up. Jacqueline turned and looked over.

“She’s alive!” she shouted, doing her best Dr. Frankenstein.

“Um, sorry about that. I guess I wasn’t quite as okay as I thought,” Nysa answered sheepishly. “Did everything go alright?”

“Just fine. The medicine’s starting to kick in so the contractions don’t hurt as much. How are you?”

“A little woozy still. I don’t know what happened.”

A nurse walked into the room carrying a tray. She set it on the table, grabbed a cup of orange juice and walked over to Nysa.

“I thought you could use this.”

“Thanks,” Nysa said as she took a sip from the cup.

“Sit there for a while and finish that. Then you can get up. We don’t want you fainting again, especially if you’re standing. Make sure you’re okay first. The labor isn’t going so fast that you’ll miss anything by taking it slowly.”

“I will. Thank you.” Nysa was so embarrassed she couldn’t make eye contact with the nurse, so she sat on the sofa slowly drinking her juice.

The nurse returned to her tray and took the cup of ice chips over to Jacqueline. “These are for you. Keep an eye on Nysa, don’t let her get up too quick,” the nurse told her, then turned and left the room.

“I turned the movie back on after you passed out. Want to watch the end with me?”

“Sure.” Nysa adjusted herself on the couch so she could see the television and sat back to recover.

December 24, 6:32 PM

Alastair squeezed the trigger more out of surprise than intent. He hadn’t actually been aiming his shot so his placement left a bit to be desired. Still, he managed to hit the guard in the leg, and he collapsed in the elevator. Alastair stood, shocked, in front of the elevator, unsure of what to do. His decision was made for him when the guard grabbed his radio with one hand and, as he called for assistance, reached for his gun with the other. Alastair shot him again, directly in the chest. His lifeless body slumped to the floor.

“Shit,” Alastair whispered to himself. He’d never expected it to come to this. He’d thought about killing Scario, sure, but not this. To make matters worse, the guard had been talking to someone on his radio when Alastair had fired the shot. Undoubtedly whoever was listening had heard the shot and was sounding the alarm. Pulling the body out into the hallway, Alastair scanned his card and hit the button for B-20. He didn’t want to hang around and wait for the other guards to arrive, but couldn’t remember what, exactly, was on most of the other floors. He figured he’d have at least a little bit of a head start if he could get back downstairs into Scario’s office.

When he arrived back at Scario’s room, he logged back onto the computer to check and see what was happening. The security camera in the lobby showed six guards standing at attention and being addressed by Joseph. There was no audio to accompany the image, but there was little doubt in Alastair’s mind about what was being said and what orders were being given. As he watched, the guards turned and hustled to the bank of elevators. Joseph, meanwhile, returned to the control room, no doubt to play quarterback in the apprehension of the unknown assailant. Alastair switched to various cameras and watched as a two-man team made their way through the cafeteria and restaurant to the server room. They exited as quickly as they had entered, one speaking quickly into his radio.

“Now they know it’s me.” Alastair absentmindedly wiped the sweat from his palms on the legs of his pants. “Now what the hell am I supposed to do?” He leaned forward again and flipped through the various security camera images to track the others. Two of them had arrived at the fourteenth floor and had checked on their fallen comrade.

Alastair watched in amazement as they systematically cleared the floor. There was no hesitation in their actions. They were swift and efficient in every movement. Alastair could tell that they were communicating using only hand signals, but even those were few in number. They operated as if part of a single being, one covering the other’s advances and movements. At no time were both men uncovered. Even if Alastair could take out one of them, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be dead before the first man hit the floor. “Guess the option of standing and fighting is out of the question,” Alastair muttered.

Shifting images on the monitor, he tried to track down the other two-man team. He found them in one of the other elevators. What alarmed him was the fact that the button that was lit on the panel was for B-20. They were on their way to him.

December 24, 6:47 PM

Nysa felt steadier. She sat with Jacqueline, sporadically feeding her ice chips.

“Better?” Nysa asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Jacqueline replied. “Are you better?”

“Yeah,” Nysa said guiltily. “Sorry ‘bout that. I don’t know what came over me. One minute I was watching what the doctor was doing, the next I was on the couch. Hope I didn’t cause too much of a fuss.”

“It’s a good thing you were sitting down. That floor doesn’t look real soft. I hate to think what might have happened if you’d been standing. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Really, I’m fine now,” Nysa added when she saw the look of doubt on her younger friend’s face. “Can I get anything for you? I’ve been nursed enough for the evening, thank you. You’re the patient here, not me.”

“Why don’t we turn on another movie while we wait for the baby to be born? I’m tired of cards and I’d like to have something to take my mind off of things. Need to rest up for the big event, you know?”

“Absolutely.” Nysa walked over to the television, popped in a new disc, and settled into the chair next to Jacqueline’s bed. “Now showing…You’ve Got Mail.” As the movie started however, they realized that they’d been given the wrong movie. Stigmata was playing instead.

“Screw it,” Nysa mumbled, “I’m too tired to call them back up to bring us the right movie. I’ve heard this is a pretty good flick. This alright with you?”

Jacqueline shrugged and leaned back into her pillows. “I’m not picky.”

December 24, 6:48 PM

Looking frantically around the room, Alastair could see no means of escape. He didn’t have much time before the guards arrived. He turned back to the computer and did the first thing to enter his mind. He shut down the elevators. After that he deleted all access for all of the key cards in the system. Thankfully, it would still allow him to move throughout the facility freely as his own cards were not logged on the main system.

He then examined the room to try and find a means of escape as the guards attempted to get out of their steel prison. He spotted his only hope, an air intake valve at the base of the wall. He’d have to take a page out of Mission Impossible and try the air ducts. He wasn’t sure he’d fit and didn’t know if it would take him anywhere safe, but for the time being, anywhere was safer than where he was.

It took him only a couple of minutes to remove the screws securing the grate to the wall. Crawling on his stomach backward into the ducts, he found them to be surprisingly large. Alastair reached out, grabbed the grate, and slid it back into place. He wouldn’t be able to actually screw it in, but with luck the guards wouldn’t see that it was slightly askew. Slowly, he wormed his way backward in the duct and into the blackness.

At last he saw light coming from a bend in the ventilation system up ahead. It had taken him quite a bit of time, but he had managed to turn himself around so that he could work his way through the system. Staying as quiet as he could, Alastair slithered his way up to the grate so that he could see out. He guessed he’d been in the ducts for somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty minutes. He was covered in sweat, which had made the task of boosting himself up a floor extraordinarily difficult. He’d used his feet and knees to brace himself, but his hands had been moist and the process of climbing the inside of the duct had been almost more than he was capable of.

He had to get out. There was no way he would be able to make it up another floor. He also needed to get out so that he could hack back into the system and find Nysa. That would require a wall outlet so that he could get a computer signal for his iPOD.

Peeking out of the grate, Alastair found himself looking into a room much like Nysa’s. He was overlooking the bedroom. On the bed he could see a young woman obviously flustered. She was talking on the phone, and based on the conversation, it seemed she was speaking to someone else in the building.

“Me too! They just came barging in here without so much as a knock on the door. I was in the bath, for crying out loud! They acted like I wasn’t even here. I was yelling at them to get out and they just ignored me. I have no idea what they were even looking for. Uh-huh. Exactly.”

Alastair sat listening to her go on and on about the intrusion into her room. He fought back the desire to tell her to shut the fuck up. He needed to get out of the ducts and into the room with as few people knowing about it as possible. He was forced to wait out the conversation—another half hour of pissing and moaning, based on the clock on her nightstand. Finally she said goodbye and hung up the phone.

He was miserable. The cramps in his legs were so bad he didn’t think he’d be able to stand once he got upright again. His shoulders weren’t quite as bad as he’d been able to flex and stretch them occasionally, but his back was a knot from the base of his spine all the way up to the base of his skull.

Cursing her under his breath, Alastair watched as she meandered back into what would be the bathroom, if her setup was the same as Nysa’s room. Now was his chance. Bracing his legs on the inside of the duct, Alastair propelled himself against the vent cover with what little force he could muster. Sharp pains tore at every muscle in his body. Luckily, the drywall gave way immediately, leaving Alastair hanging halfway out of the vent. He heard her cry of alarm as he lowered himself to the floor. As quickly as his stiff body would allow, he ran to the bathroom and grabbed the woman.

“Don’t make another sound. I’m not here to hurt you.” He could see the disbelief in the girl’s eyes. “I’m the guy the guards are looking for. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m here to put a stop to it. I’m not here for you. I’m looking for my fiancée, Nysa. If you keep quiet, I’ll just be a minute and then I’ll be on my way. Agreed?”

She nodded her head stiffly.

“Good.” Alastair let her go and moved to the bathroom sink, taking out the Web jack as he went. Placing the gun on the sink to ensure her continued cooperation, Alastair took out his iPOD and began his search.

“What are you doing with that?” the young woman asked.

“Looking for Nysa,” Alastair replied distractedly.

“I know where she is.”

Alastair whipped around and faced her. “Don’t screw with me on this.” He placed his hand on the revolver.

“No. No, really. My name is Mary Alice. I work with her. Right now she’s at the medical facility with Jacqueline.”

“Where?”

“The medical facility. It’s on level B-4.”

Looking back to his iPOD, Alastair accessed the cameras for level B-4. Sure enough, there was Nysa sitting in a chair next to a woman in a hospital bed. He turned back to the girl. “Thank you,” he said as he raced out of the room to the elevators. While he waited he suddenly realized he’d shut the elevators down. As he made his way to the stairwell, the ding of the elevator startled him.

“As long as they’re working again,” Alastair muttered. He stepped quickly inside, scanned his card and hit the button that would take him to his fiancée. The doors closed, but the elevator did not move. He pushed the button again. And again. He pushed the door-open button. Nothing. He was trapped.

There had to be a way out of here. Looking up, Alastair saw the escape hatch. Boosting himself up and using the handrails as a step, he forced the hatch open and made his way to the top of the elevator. From there he could reach the doors to the next floor. There was no way for him to know what stood on the other side. Taking a deep breath and saying a quick prayer, Alastair forced them open and peeked out. The hallway was deserted.

He once again plugged into a wall socket and hacked into the security system. He located the guards in the main lobby. Joseph looked irate. He was pacing back and forth, screaming continuously at his subordinates. Their expressions were blank. They would come back. He had no illusions to the contrary. He would have to act fast. Changing programs, Alastair took control of the elevators and sent them all up to the lobby. Their arrival would undoubtedly occupy the guards’ attention while Alastair carried out his plans.

The guard closest to the elevators took a step back out of line, bringing his assault rifle up into a firing position as he moved quickly into a more advantageous position. The others were alerted by his actions and followed suit. When the doors opened, a brief burst of gunfire swept the inside of the car. There was nobody inside. The arrival of the second car elicited the same amount of caution, minus the gunfire, as did the third and fourth.

In an effort to get an idea of what was going on, Joseph retreated back to the control room. He was out of luck. The entire system was down.

“Fucking techies!” He pulled out his sidearm and shot one of the blank screens. He reholstered his weapon and walked back out into the lobby. “Looks like we’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. The guy we’re after programmed the security system and has now shut it down. Prop open those elevator doors so that they stay here. You two cover the lobby—make sure he doesn’t escape. The rest of you, I want you to conduct another floor-by-floor sweep. Leave nothing to chance. Check everything. Start at the bottom and work your way up.”

The four men immediately turned and proceeded to the nearest stairwell. Since the stairs were used only for emergencies, there was no reentry from the stairwell except on the ground floor. They would have to blast open the door when they reached the bottom, but they were in a mood to do some damage anyway. As the door closed behind them Joseph turned to the two remaining. “Nobody leaves. Nobody.” He spun on his heel and returned to the office.

December 24, 8:00 PM

Jacqueline had made a very quick transition into the third and final phase of labor. She was now at a full ten centimeters and her contractions were coming less than two minutes apart. The epidural and Pitocin drips had been turned off and the doctor had been called into the room. He was accompanied by three nurses. Although that kind of staffing was unnecessary for what should be a pretty standard delivery, no one wanted to miss out on witnessing this historic moment.

Nysa sat by Jacqueline’s bed offering any comfort she could think of, or that was asked of her. She had been rubbing the small of Jacqueline’s back and feeding her ice chips for the last couple of minutes.

“Now, can you rub my legs,” Jacqueline asked, turning from her side onto her back. “They’re driving me nuts.”

“Absolutely.” Nysa began massaging her legs, first the right then the left, working her way from Jacqueline’s thigh down to her foot. “Better?”

The doctor stepped forward. “Let’s get this baby delivered, shall we?” Jacqueline nodded in response. The nurses moved to various parts of the room and began their preparations. “Very good,” he continued. “During the next contraction I need you to push for a count of ten. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” answered Jacqueline.

With the next contraction, Jacqueline took and deep breath and pushed.

Nysa counted “One, two, three…” At ten, Jacqueline let out her breath and collapsed back onto the bed.

“Very good,” the doctor said. “The baby’s head crowned. Now I need you to do the same thing again with the next contraction.”

Jacqueline’s nails dug into Nysa’s hand as she took another deep breath and pushed.

“Great, great,” coached the doctor. “You’ve got him moving now. I want you to push his head out with your next contraction, okay? You need to push as hard as you can.”

Jacqueline collapsed back onto the bed, trying to catch her breath as the contraction ended.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Nysa told her. “One more time, okay?”

December 24, 8:02 PM

Alastair slowly made his way up the ladder inside the elevator shaft. While the four guards ran around the lower floors and the other two sat in the lobby, Alastair would be able to climb to level B-4, pry open the doors as he had on the lower level, and find Nysa.

The trip was slow and methodical. He couldn’t afford a misstep now. He was eight floors above the bottom of the shaft. One slip could leave him dead. Hand over hand and foot over foot he proceeded. Occasionally he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow and hands.

At level B-6, he took his last break. The gun slipped out of his pocket. He watched in horror as it disappeared into the blackness below. It discharged at impact and the sound was deafening.

The two guards in the lobby immediately turned to the source of the sound. Stepping into the elevator one of the guards took out a flashlight and shined it down between the elevator and floor.

“Holy shit! There he is! The mother fucker’s in the shaft!” The guard took his rifle and shoved it down into the gap in the floor and opened fire.

Alastair could feel and hear the bullets whizzing past him and careening off the walls and ladder. Thankfully, the narrowness of the gap between the elevator and the building did not allow the guard much room to maneuver and aim. The guards were spraying bullets down the elevator shaft in the hopes of hitting him.

His only hope was up. Scrambling up the ladder, Alastair prayed to God he’d make it. He was so close now. One floor away. He kept climbing. An excruciating pain filled his hand. As he reached for the next rung he saw only four fingers on his right hand. One of the bullets had found its mark and blown off his pinkie.

He kept climbing. Alastair was beyond caring at this point. He could see the release lever on the inside of the door. He reached out for it, grasping the bar with what remained of his right hand and pulled. He slipped and almost lost his grip with his left hand.

His lost his footing, leaving him dangling by one hand sixteen floors above the elevator basement. Focusing to keep himself from panicking, Alastair found the rung, first with his right foot, then his left. Bracing himself and trying to ignore the hailstorm of gunfire from above, he pulled once more. This time it gave.

Stepping quickly from the ladder into the cover of the door, Alastair slid the door closed behind him. He had no time to lose. They might not know which floor he’d entered, but it wouldn’t be long before they figured it out. He was sure of that. There was nobody around.

He moved carefully from room to room until he heard noise coming from a room at the end of the hall. Grabbing a gauze pad from a medical cart as he made his way down the hall, Alastair quickly wrapped his injured right hand. The sounds were clearer now. It was a woman yelling and voices talking. He jogged quickly to the doorway and looked in.

There was Nysa! She was standing at the side of the hospital bed, bent over and talking to the woman on the bed who, from the looks of things, was about to give birth. Alastair entered the room.

Nysa looked up. “Alastair?”

The others looked over at him.

“How…? What are you doing here?” she asked.

Alastair stepped further into the room and stopped next to Nysa. “I had to come for you. Whatever it is you’re doing here, you have to stop. Stop and come home, there’s not much time.”

“I can’t stop,” Nysa replied. “It’s done.”

Jacqueline took a deep breath and pushed, screaming with exertion as she tried to bring her son into the world.

“What’s done?” he asked.

The baby’s head slid gently out of the birth canal. How odd that a baby so young should have such a look of sadness on his face, Alastair thought.

“He is,” Nysa replied, a pure expression of love shining on her face.

Alastair looked down at the child being born. “Jesus Chri—”

About the Author

Born and raised in southern California, Scott and his family recently relocated to Colorado. He resides just south of Denver with his beautiful wife and two energetic boys. This is his debut novel and he is currently working another, which will be the first in a series of four. Please visit his website www.scottlcollins.com.