The explosion and electrical fire that followed in the next few seconds completely destroyed both trains, causing a partial collapse of the tunnel roof, crushing and burning all the bodies beyond any possible recognition.
In the control depot at Waterloo, one of the lights on the wall turned from green to red.
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On the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, President Jamieson rushed up the stairs and threw open the door to his son’s bedroom to see what all the commotion was about. He could have sworn that he had heard screaming and the sound of a muffled explosion.
His son was kneeling on the carpet, his model train-set spread out all around him, a heap of engines and carriages lying piled on top of each other at one end of the track. Suddenly, the toy train engines spontaneously burst into flames.
As the President ran forward to put out the fire, the little boy looked up at his step-father and laughed, clapping his hands together excitedly, saying,
“That was fun. I like to play with trains…”
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Chapter Eighty
Saturday August 8th
The Cotswolds, Oxfordshire, England
Three months later.
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Don came out into his back garden, carrying a tray on which three of Maria’s famous home-made cakes were displayed. Louisa clapped her hands almost childishly, and the others around the table strained forward to look at them, as Don placed them on the garden table.
It was a truly beautiful day. The sun was shining lazily, high in the sky, the grass and the trees brilliant in the brightness of their verdant greens, and the English flowers that grew bountifully in the shade of the trees making up a patchwork of bright reds, yellows, and blues. Butterflies, bumblebees and tiny insects chased each other through the air, and the scent of flowers and garden herbs tantalised the nostrils with a mixture of sweetness and spice. Birds took shade in the branches of the trees and called to each other, whistling and singing and painting the sky with their tunes.
The group sat in deckchairs on the grass, relaxing and enjoying the heat wave passing through England, wearing casual T-shirts, shorts and summer dresses. They were all friends, and were happy to spend time together, relaxing in each other’s company. This was proving to be one of those days that English summers were made off.
“It’s hard to believe the way things have changed so quickly for us all!” Louisa leaned forward to cut herself a second piece of Maria’s delicious Black Forrest Gateau.
The others nodded in agreement, sipping their teas and munching down their cakes. The Professor snored.
“Someone wake him up. You know he’ll only complain if he misses the cake!” Don urged the others, but looking directly at Louisa.
“You know,” Louisa spoke again through a mouthful of crumbs, “...we should organise a party for him or something, try to get some official recognition from the university for all the stuff he’s done. If it wasn’t for him, none of us would be here and able to relax and enjoy this day like this.”
“Good idea. Sort of a lifetime achievement award?” Don nodded in agreement, the others laughing at him when they saw that he had got cream all over his nose from one of the cakes.
It was true though. Louisa had a point. They had all come a long way in the past four years. Two years ago Louisa had moved to London to be with her new husband, where she was now working at the Imperial College of London, heading up the Genetics department there.
All of them were financially independent. The shares they had earned in the I.G.E.G.G.M. had risen sharply in value in the past three years, and really, none of them had to work anymore. Only the Professor was still working full time at the lab. Don was still working in the lab, but only part time, preferring to spend half his time with Maria at their home in the country, writing books and short stories, and helping to bring up Jason, their son.
His full name according to the Parish records was Jason Jesus Rowlinson. Rowlinson was Don’s natural surname, the choice of the name Jason being an easy one, a tribute to the man who had given life to the boy, and to a friend they all loved and missed.
In their home they called their son Jesus, but to protect their son’s identity and give him as much chance to grow up as normally as possible without drawing any undue attention to himself, they had decided that officially, in public and outside their home they would call him Jason.
They had christened their son Jesus, naming him after the man that they believed they had cloned. However, since their son had been born, there had been nothing to suggest he was anything 'special'. No miracles, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing...But nevertheless, at the time of the christening, they had believed he was special.
Lydia came back onto the porch with two little boys. She’d been playing in the long grass at the end of the garden with Achmed and Jesus.
“I can’t do this anymore! I'm exhausted!” Lydia exclaimed, waddling towards them, and sitting down slowly in her chair. She was six months pregnant, and was expecting in October, only three weeks after Maria, who was also pregnant and now expecting her second child.
It had taken Lydia a few years to get over the death of Jason, but then one day she'd met a handsome researcher at the Ashmolean Museum, an expert in Grecian artefacts and history, and they had fallen in love, drawn together by a common interest in the past.
Lydia eyed up a Cherry Tart on the tray and looked pleadingly at Don, who was laughing quietly at the hungry look on her face.
“Oh, okay. But you can hardly call it a diet, if you eat everything you look at, can you?” he laughed.
“Yes, but I did tell you that it was a Sea Food diet...” Lydia argued back. “ …as in ‘see food and eat it!’ ”
“The old ones are...the oldest...” Don quirked. Bad jokes were his job.
Lydia had been married for two years now. She had moved back to Oxford to be with her husband, and with a little help from the Professor, she had been given a fellowship in Oxford, allowing her to study and catalogue the Professor’s share of the Rahipti-Ani treasure as it came into the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, to whom the Professor had lent his share of the treasure on a semi-permanent loan. She had stayed friends with Haissem team, and was pleased to spend time with them, whenever the opportunity arose.
Little Jesus looked up and cried at Maria.
“Mummy, mummy, come play in the garden.”
“Okay. Okay...” Maria struggled to her feet, “…but just for a little while!”
“I’ll come with you,” Don volunteered, perhaps being a little overprotective toward his heavily pregnant wife.
As Don and Maria walked after them, Little Jesus and Achmed ran ahead to play again in the meadow at the end of the garden. Achmed was the surviving cloned child of Pharaoh Raphiti-Ani, and was staying with them for a few weeks during the summer, as he had done last year.
Normally resident in the busy streets of Cairo, his Egyptian stepparents had taken the opportunity to see the sights in London today, and would stay over in a hotel for the weekend. They loved Achmed dearly, but nowadays they hardly ever got the chance to spend any time alone. This weekend away was going to be their first weekend alone in a year, since the last time they had come to stay with Don.
Jesus and Achmed loved playing together. They had become firm friends within minutes of meeting each other two years before, and now, while Don and Maria kept a watchful eye on them, they chased butterflies together through the long, shoulder high grass. Their hands waved wildly in the air as their little legs stumbled unsteadily across the rough ground, their voices carrying easily back to the group enjoying tea and cakes in the garden behind, as they screamed and giggled loudly with the excitement of being young.
Suddenly little Jesus stumbled and went down heavily on both knees, disappearing from Maria and Don’s view as the long grass swallowed him up. Quickly Maria ran forward to him to make sure he was okay, and found him kneeling on th
e ground, crying. Achmed was standing quietly by his side, his little hand on Jesus’s shoulder. At first Maria thought that Jesus must have hurt himself as he fell, but as she bent down to help the little boy up, she noticed the dead, white bird in the grass in front of Jesus.
“Why doesn’t he fly away?” Jesus asked, quietly.
“He’s dead...” Maria answered, not knowing how to answer the question properly. How could a little child understand death. “…He can’t fly any more...”
A little tear ran down Jesus’s cheek and he started to cry quietly. The little boy reached forward and gently picked up the dead bird, drawing it to his chest and hugging it close.
As Don and Maria watched, a blue light started to come from the boy’s hands, engulfing the bird and bathing it in its glow.
After a few seconds the blue light disappeared and Jesus held out his hands, the bird lying flat in his palms. The bird’s wings twitched and its eyes opened. The tips of the wings began to unfurl, then with slow but deliberate contractions of its muscles, it stretched them out and flapped them slowly in the warm afternoon air.
The small bird’s head started to move, and it looked around nervously from left to right, as if trying to figure out where it was.
Little Jesus laughed and gently rose to his feet. He ran a few metres forward in the grass and lifted his hands upwards to the sky. The bird flapped its wings a few times and then took flight.
It flew away from them, rising into the blue sky above, a white dove of peace, climbing and climbing until it was far from sight.
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The End
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If you have enjoyed this book, please return to Amazon.com and let others know what you thought by reviewing the book.
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Questions for your Book Club to discuss
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Q1: Could this happen?
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Q2: Do you think that Jesus Christ did exist?
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Q3: Do you think that it may be possible to clone Jesus Christ?
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Q4: If it were possible to clone Jesus Christ, would the clone have the same powers as the Son of God? Would He be the Messiah?
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Q5: Would the super-powers in the world allow another country to make a clone of Jesus Christ?
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Q6: Was it unfair that Jason was killed?
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Q7: Did you like the book?
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Q8: Who was Jesus Christ?
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Q9: What other people from history should be cloned, and why?
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May 4th 2013
If you have any comments, please contact the author at :- [email protected]
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To keep up to date with other news, events and ebook releases, please visit the website at: www.iancpirvine.com
Other Books By Ian C.P. Irvine
Please look out for others books by IAN C.P.IRVINE on Amazon:-
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London 2012 : What If ? ( A Romantic Mystery Adventure )
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The Sleeping Truth : A Romantic Medical Thriller
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Alexis Meets Wiziwam the Wizard
BOX SET of THREE TOP 10 MEDICAL THRILLERS Page 133