The Son of Man

by CW Johnson

  Todd looked at Maria for a brief moment before returning his attention to the doctor. “Whose?”

  Dr. Yates smiled. “She isn’t pregnant yet.”

  “No, no, no,” Todd said, holding his hands out, “I won’t be donating anything today, thank you very much.”

  Maria giggled. “No, Todd, that’s not why you’re here.”

  Todd pulled his brows together. “Ok, why am I here?”

  Dr. Yates lifted his stethoscope off, placed it on a nearby table and looked back at Todd. “I’m gonna’ let you in on some pretty sensitive information,” he said, re-adjusting himself on the stool. “I’m going to because Maria asked me. Before I do, however, I think you should know that we’ve been watching you for some time, and we’re certain you’ll exercise discretion.”

  “We?” Todd said. “Who is we—what the hell are you talking about?”

  “Maria, Father Jenkins and I, along with many other people, belong to an organization known as the Vinces—”

  “The Vinces?”

  “In hoc Signo Vinces, to be precise.”

  “I’ve heard that before, it was—”

  “Constantine’s battle cry,” the doctor said, interrupting Todd.

  Todd nodded. “Yeah, yeah, but more than that—it was the name of a cult… cryptic, ancient stuff. In the same vein as the …. Illuminati….” He turned, looked at Maria and back at the doctor. “What exactly are you people into here?”

  Dr. Yates laughed. “Nothing ‘cryptic’, or… ‘cultic’ I assure you. We’re simply a group of people who have come together to bring about the birth of a very special child. Maria has volunteered to be the surrogate for that child.”

  Todd pulled his ball cap off and rolled a hand over his thick, honey blond hair. “I’m still not following. Maria’s a big girl. If she wants to have someone’s baby, it’s her business.”

  “Todd!” Maria yelled. “There is no somebody, just me.”

  Todd slowly turned his attention to Maria. “Wait a minute, that doctor in the lobby— Donahue, that’s what he does. You’re talking about cloning here. You’re talking about cloning a human being.”

  Maria smiled.

  “Maria,” Todd said softly, turning to lock eyes with the doctor, “have you paid this guy anything? Is he getting some money here? Cause if this is a scam; if you’re workin’ her--”

  “No, no,” Yates said. “I assure you, this is the real thing.”

  “But… it’s illegal. How do you know I won’t spill?”

  “We’re reasonably sure you won’t want to bring that sort of trouble down on Maria.”

  Todd glanced around the sterile examination room, slowly rolled the ball cap in his hand and returned it to his head. “But that still doesn’t answer my question,” he said finally, “why are you telling me all this? Why am I here?”

  “I told you,” Maria said, glancing at the doctor, “I wanted to celebrate our getting back together.”

  ~~~

  Brad Turner and his band of road musicians had all showered and were loaded into the bays of the big Prevost tour bus. The road manager had booked a total of five rooms for four days. Although they had rented the rooms for the full night, they were leaving early. The drummer failed to fully close the door behind him as he made the dash through the blinding rain. As the big bus lumbered out of the Sherrie’s parking lot, Jesus Christ moved into room 338. He would sleep in a warm, dry bed for the first time in months.

  ~~~

  “Where to?” the town-car driver said.

  Dr. Perez adjusted his glasses. “Airport, Just get me away from here.”

  “Rough day, huh?”

  “Worse than that—time wasted.”

  “Oh, I’ve had wasted days, believe me. So how did it go, the big meeting I mean?”

  “Listen, can we step on it? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  They rode silently through the driving rain for a time. Finally the driver spoke. “Fan o’ country music, are you?” he said, smiling into the rear view mirror.

  “God, no—say, could you pay a little more attention to the road?”

  “Oh, sorry, you’ll have to pardon me; I’m not really a driver—it’s just a part time job. Helps make ends meet, know what I mean? Believe it or not, I work for the IRS.”

  Perez rolled his eyes.

  “I’m one of those guys who get to stick it to the deadbeats, ya know? Like for instance, there’s this one case I’m workin’ on right now. He’s a doctor, just like you. He’s involved in some project or another, something to do with that stem cell stuff. I don’t understand it, but I know it’s illegal. He’s not from around here. He’s from Minnesota, I think—yeah, Saint Paul. One of those guys who help women have babies… has a wife named Hillary. His address is 4998 South Bay Street. Phone number ends with 6842. Social security number is 522-72-919.”

  Perez felt the blood leave his face.

  “Anyway, this doctor is doing it to make extra money, too. Course doctors, you know, when they make extra money, they make a lot of extra money. Know what’s funny? This guy doesn’t even know we’ve got him.”

  “How do you…why are you telling me this?” Perez said, stammering.

  The driver glanced up and glared at Perez through the rear-view-mirror. “You know why.”

  “I have no idea why.”

  “This meeting,” the driver said,” the one that just took place; it never happened.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Jenkins—the cloning project—never happened.”

  “You’re with the IRS?”

  “You really wanna find out?”

  “You can’t force me to be involved in this.”

  “Look,” the driver said, “this is gonna be real simple. You don’t have to be involved. You just have to keep your mouth shut. Understand? Oh, look, we’re already at the airport. Don’t worry about it—the tip’s on me.”

  Perez stepped out of the town-car into the rain and turned to look back at the driver. The driver smiled, put his finger to his lips and drove away.

  ~~~

  On the way to the hotel, Jim made it clear to Blaze that he wouldn’t be involved in the project. He said he’d take the considerable chance of not trying to stop him, but warned him that Perez might not take the same road. Drained, and deeply disappointed with the results of the meeting, Blaze sat on his bed. It was late. He reached for the remote, turned on the TV, shuffled through the channels until he found the news and settled in.

  “More unrest in Israel this week in the wake of still another bombing.”

  An attractive blond woman was stoically giving details. Behind her loomed a digitally enhanced picture depicting the flags of both Israel and Hamas. The flags were facing away from each other and flanking two superimposed soldiers locked in unending combat.

  “Hamas has claimed responsibility,” the newscaster concluded. Behind her, the picture changed into a likeness of a dark, mountainous rock hurtling through space.

  “Astronomers at the Los Alamos Institute believe they have spotted yet another asteroid headed our way. Scientists say there is no cause for alarm, however. The asteroid is expected to miss the earth by 300 million miles.”

  The camera shifted to another angle. “We’ll be back with the local news, after these messages.”

  The lovely smiling face suddenly changed into a screaming middle-aged man.

  “WE MUST BE CRAZY! We are extending our used car BLOW OUT SALE FOR YET ANOTHER WEEK! THAT’S RIGHT! We are blowing out CARS, TRUCKS, VANS, and even SUVs for as little as…”

  The phone rang. He quickly switched off the TV and picked up.

  “Father Jenkins, this is Maria. I just finished; it’s official—they told me I’m the one.”

  “So I heard—congratulations. But I should tell you, we’ve known for some time.”

  “I’m so excited. Now I’ll never be able to sleep.”

  “I wouldn’t pop
the cork just yet, Maria. You still have one major hill.”

  “He knows. Dr. Yates told him—about the cloning anyway. He doesn’t know who the baby is yet. I need for you to tell him—you and Dr. Donahue.”

  “Dr. Donahue won’t be involved.”

  “Why?”

  “He has chosen not to be. Neither he, nor Dr. Perez will be involved. Both of them have declined.”

  “What’s going to happen now?”

  “That’s not a problem—certainly not a problem for you. You haven’t asked him yet. That’s a problem.”

  “No, I can’t yet. It’ll be too obvious when he finds out who the baby is.”

  “Are you trying to manipulate this young man? Are you asking me to be a part of it?”

  “No, no, Father, it’s nothing like that, it has to be done a certain way.”

  “This is getting more surreal by the minute, Maria.”

  “I know, Father—you just have to trust me.”

  “It was understood this matter was already resolved. It’s getting a little late in the game, don’t you think?”

  “Just give me a little more time—I’ll take care of it.”

  “I hope so. We can’t move forward until you have a marriage license. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “I understand, Father, and I’ve tried to talk to him, a couple of times. The timing hasn’t been right. I have a certain sense about these things. I’ll do it right after you talk to him, I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Blaze said.

  ~~~

  Banging on the door!

  Blood poured like a waterfall from a huge wooden table.

  “Let my people go!” Moses ranted through his snow-white beard as lightning flashed and thunder crashed behind him on the mountain. Blaze sat at Moses’ colossal feet, hammering a massive golden bible with his fist.

  Banging on the door!

  The girl in the lobby smiled, her black hair framing her beautiful face, flowing down her neck, past her voluptuous breasts, down her curvy white stomach, swirling around her navel, dripping off—then turning liquid red, flowing into blood-stained buckets.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Jim Donahue bolted upright from his nightmare. It took him a moment to fully regain his senses.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  He kicked off his covers and jumped from his bed, his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced down at the glowing red clock sitting on the nightstand. 2:27 glimmered in the darkness. He turned and stumbled in the dark, searching for the light switch when he was rocked by yet another round of pounding.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  “Coming!” he groaned. “I’m comin’ already!” He found the switch, clicked on the light and reached for the doorknob. “Who’s there?”

  No answer. He peered through the peephole…nothing.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Jim leapt back, suppressing a scream and stood warily inspecting the door. I’m acting like a little school girl he thought as he reached for the door handle.

  He wasn’t aware of the door opening, only that he was bathed in a swirling orb of indescribably bright light. He instinctively covered his eyes, and realized the light wasn’t painful. He felt profound awe, wonder, and—fear— as he became aware of a low, rumbling sound coming toward him like an approaching tsunami. The sound grew closer and louder until the walls shook around him. That’s when he realized the roar was forming…words. He braced himself as he felt it coming.

  “THOU SHALT NOT HINDER MY SON.”

  The immense, hot voice passed through him, blasting his hair back and knocking him backward to the floor. Pictures smashed against the wall. The mirror spun off, and crashed through the window as the colossal utterance roared on into the courtyard, bending and snapping trees as it pushed a path of debris into the darkness. And then it was gone.

  The dazzling light gradually faded. Slowly, slivers of dull, earth-bound light began to appear as doors cautiously opened revealing panicked faces peering out into the dim-lit hall. Jim leapt to his feet and ran from his room wearing only his black sweat pants. He jumped over a pile of debris, rounded the first right, and disappeared down the hall.

  ~~~

  That driver, or whoever he was, proved to have been very good at his job. He had Perez squirming like a fish in a puddle. If only he could somehow back away from the stem cell project, as if that would do him any good now. He had been involved in the in vitro culture of stem cell—derivation of ES cells from early human embryos. Unethical, possibly, but not illegal, except for the fact that the Blackburn Institute was a federally-funded facility. The money had been phenomenal—and unreported. They had him dead to rights. Stem cell research was one thing, but cloning human beings…. How could Jenkins call himself a scientist, or even a priest?

  “Can I get you something?” the flight attendant said, leaning over the first-class seat.

  Perez adjusted his glasses. “Yes, rum and cola.”

  “One rum and cola coming up,” she said, smiling attractively.

  Perez leaned back in his seat and began fidgeting with a magazine.

  “Dr. Perez?”

  Perez looked up. “Yes?” Someone had taken up the seat next to him.

  “Hi, my name is Benjamin Santana.”

  “Hello…do I know you?”

  “I sure hope we can get to know each other,” the boorish, unshaven man said.

  Perez noticed his wide girth all but overwhelmed the first class seat. Dark wet spots highlighted the armpits of his sweaty white shirt. A red tie, pulled open, lay on his tremendous, bulging belly. His breath smelled of alcohol. Perez had no recollection of ever seeing him before. He decided to ask. “Are you in the sciences?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  Perez nodded and made an attempt to return to his magazine.

  “Why not?” Santana said.

  Perez glanced up again. “Why not what?”

  “The Vinces, the cloning project. Why not?”

  Perez sat up in his seat and quickly scanned the first-class compartment. When he was satisfied he wouldn’t be overheard, he looked back at Santana. “Who are you people? Listen—no matter what you think you have on me, you can’t force me to do this thing. I’ll keep my mouth shut, but I’m not interested in this little project of yours. That’s final—non-negotiable. Do I make myself clear?”

  “But you haven’t even heard our offer yet,” Santana said.

  Perez glared back at him. “You can tell Jenkins, and the rest of his cronies, that I—”

  “No, you don’t understand, I’m not with the Vinces. I’m what you might call the…competition.”

  The flight attendant appeared with Perez’s drink.

  “Hey—I’ll take one of those,” Santana said. “And here—let me pay for that one.”

  “No,” Perez said. “I’ll buy my own drink, thank you.”

  As the flight attendant left, the fat man reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small note pad. He quickly jotted something down and pushed it at Perez.

  “What’s this?”

  “Our offer.”

  Perez looked down at the pad and back at the fat man.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  ~~~

  Blaze was awakened by rapping at the door. He glanced at his clock—4:07

  “Could you please come back later?” he hollered. It seemed awfully early for housekeeping to be making their rounds.

  “Metro police,” a female voice said from beyond the door.

  Blaze found his robe and opened the door. “Yes officer, can I help you?”

  “Sorry to bother you, sir. Do you know this man?” She reached and pulled Jim into view. “We found him running half naked down West End. It took him a while, but he finally settled down. Says he knows you.”

  Blaze reached for Jim. “Yes, yes, this is Dr. Donahue. He’s my friend. I’ll take care of him.”

  “Okay,” the officer said, “but he’s gonna have
to stay in the area until we have a chance to investigate this thing.”

  “What thing is that, officer?”

  “His room was torn up pretty bad, but if you ask me, it’s unlikely he had anything to do with it. The damage was far too extensive.”

  Blaze suppressed a smile. This police officer didn’t know Jim Donahue very well.

  “Scott­—he’s my partner,” she said, rambling, “he thinks it might’ve been a weird atmospheric thing— says something a lot like this happened in New Hampshire about twenty years or so ago, blew a whole town—”

  “Thank you officer,” Blaze said, interrupting, “Anything else you need? I really should see to my friend.”

  “Yeah—okay, have him stick around awhile. We’ll get back with you one way or another.”

  “Thank you,” Blaze said, pulling Jim into his room and closing the door behind them.

  “It might be time for you to think about settling down, my friend,” Blaze said, as he pulled Jim toward the bed. Jim grabbed at the blankets, pulled them up over him, and immediately went to sleep. Blaze couldn’t help but smile. This wasn’t the first time he’d rescued Jim from the effects of the night before.

  Once Jim was settled in, Blaze decided to go to the lobby for a cup of coffee and give Jim a chance to sleep it off. He walked out of his room, down the hall, and into a waiting elevator.

  When he reached the lobby, it was clear that something was definitely wrong. The entire east wing leading out of the lobby had been cordoned off. He walked to the front desk. It was still early and the lobby was empty.

  “What happened, young lady?”

  A heavyset woman was working on the other side of the desk. Her back was toward him. She squealed and jumped.

  Blaze looked at her nametag. “Sorry I startled you…Kathy.”

  “Oh, Father Jenkins, I’m sorry, it’s just that it’s been such a weird night.”

  “Really?” Blaze said. “Weird in what way?”

  “Didn’t the police talk to you, Father?”

  “Yes, yes they did. Oh, I see—my friend—yes— I’m so very sorry. It seems he may have gotten a little out of control last night. He’ll cover all expenses. I’ll personally vouch for that.”

  “No, Father,” Kathy said. “This was no party, believe me. I was here all alone behind the desk and all of a sudden, the place just exploded. No reason. It just blew up. We had to evacuate the whole north wing of the first floor—spent the whole night trying to find rooms for everybody. A lot of people left—could be lawsuits. You know how things are these days—”