Chasing the Wind

by Norma Beishir

  He’s like you in every way, I wrote. I can’t even think about what he’s going to be like in a few years. How am I supposed to raise this wild child alone?

  And the tears came….

  86

  Connor

  I lay on the bed, fingering the St. Jude medallion Lynne had given me. You say you’re a lost cause, I say you’re not…nothing’s ever hopeless.

  “Interesting medallion. Religious symbol, isn’t it?”

  I looked up as Dante entered the cell. “Have a closer look, Nicholas,” I invited with sarcasm. “Touch it. Let it burn your miserable flesh.”

  “You’re still a smartass, aren’t you?”

  “Why did you let me keep this?” I asked.

  “As a reminder. Every time you look at it, you think of them, don’t you?”

  “You bastard.”

  Dante pulled up a chair and sat facing me. “Make this easy on yourself. If you tell us where they are, you can have your wife with you in here,” he offered. “Wouldn’t that be more pleasant than being here alone?”

  “I would never have allowed you to turn my son into a lab rat,” I responded.

  Dante looked around the cell. “It would appear you don’t even have control of your own circumstances,” he said, smiling. “I don’t believe you can stop me.”

  I lay in the darkness, thinking, remembering….

  I was in living Boston, working with Sadowski, when the call came from Edward. “You have to return to London immediately,” he told me. “The FDA is coming after Joseph. A government site review committee will come to GenTech tomorrow morning. They will order the laboratory closed.”

  “We’ve already destroyed the files,” I told him.

  “You must not be there when the committee arrives,” Edward insisted. “A courier will deliver a package to you tonight. In it you will find new documentation—passport, driver’s license, credit cards, everything you will need. Tomorrow morning, you will meet the Icarus jet at Logan Airport and it will bring you back to London. You can continue your work here.”

  “Until they follow the trail to the parent company,” I predicted.

  “We’ll deal with that when—if—it happens.”

  It never happened. I knew why. Nicholas and his people had managed to prevent it.

  How?

  As soon as the lights went out, the ghosts arrived….

  “This is a good school, Andrew. It’s for gifted children like you.” The voice belonged to Dr. Fairfield. “You’ll be able to interact with other children like yourself.”

  “There are no other children like him.”

  The voice had not been Edward’s. It was Nicholas Dante who had delivered me to the Highgate Institute…

  With the darkness came peace. I welcomed the night, welcomed a respite from the beatings, the humiliation of the experimentation.

  Today, they had drawn blood. They had taken skin samples from various parts of my body. And they’d triggered a memory….

  “Joseph, I’ve found the solution,” I said, barely able to contain my enthusiasm. “The growth hormones are working. The new clones are developing on schedule.”

  “It’s too late.” Sadowski looked crestfallen. “The FDA is onto us, Andrew. They are about to shut us down.”

  I remembered helping Sadowski destroy the files. We’d gone to Sadowski’s home and built a fire in the fireplace, tossing document after document onto the blazing fire, eliminating the proof of all we had accomplished.

  I took a deep breath. I’d taken the two flash drives with me when I was summoned back to London. The drives I'd given to Sarah and to Caitlin Hammond. The files on those drives had revealed an unbelievable truth to me weeks after Sadowski’s sudden death….

  They’d drugged me. Not for the first time.

  I saw the needle marks on my arm, and I knew. What did they give me? Did they finally make me give away Lynne’s whereabouts?

  I tried to move, but I was in restraints. I’d been in my cell when the goon came for me. I had only a vague memory of the big man hitting me, of losing consciousness….

  I had to find out what, if anything, I had told them. I had to know if they now knew where to find my wife and son. I had to know if I had put my family in danger.

  Dante came into the room. He looked frustrated. A good sign? I wondered.

  Dante leaned down, his face only inches from mine. “Sooner or later, Andrew, we will find them.”

  “Look in the cemetery, you bastard,” I said in a low voice. “They’re dead.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Dante pulled up a chair. “If they are indeed dead, why are there no death certificates?”

  “I couldn’t take her to a hospital. I told you this already,” I said, staring up at the ceiling. “She went into labor early. She hadn’t been able to see a doctor because your goons were hunting us. There were complications. The baby was stillborn. My wife hemorrhaged and I lost her as well. How many times will you force me to relive this?”

  “As often as it takes for you to convince me,” Dante answered.

  “Why would you want my child?” I demanded.

  Dante didn’t respond.

  I lay on my back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I knew it was night because the lights had been turned out. With no windows and no clocks within my range of vision, this was the only way I had of distinguishing day from night. I mentally tried to keep track of the days, the months that had passed, but it was not always clear to me.

  Sometimes I meditated. Sometimes I practiced visualization exercises. And then there were the nights the ghosts came. Sometimes they were comforting. Other times, they were disturbing. Like tonight….

  “I want my mum!” I screamed.

  “Your mum is gone, Andrew,” Edward had attempted to explain. “She drowned—”

  “No!” I cried. “She can’t be!”

  “She was quite sick, child.”

  “No, you’re lying!” I hit my stepfather repeatedly, unable to control my anger. “My mum’s not dead! She’s not!”

  I remembered going to my room, curling up in a fetal position on my bed, refusing to eat, refusing to talk to anyone. I wasn’t sure when I stopped crying.

  When I stopped feeling….

  “Where are they, Andrew?”

  “They’re dead!”

  The giant called Caine hit me hard, a sharp blow to the head that sent me crashing to the floor. I looked up, waiting for the giant to come after me again. Dante stood in the doorway, his face contorted by rage. “I’ll ask you again, Andrew. Where are they?”

  “They’re dead!” I shouted.

  Dante nodded to the goon and left the room. The big man grabbed me by the front of my shirt, hauling me to my feet. This time, the blow connected with my jaw. I fell backward, hitting the concrete wall. The goon hit me again. I doubled over in pain. Another blow landed me face down on the floor. The big man jerked me upward again, punching me hard in the abdomen.

  Finally, mercifully, the beating stopped. The goon threw my battered body onto the bed and left the cell. I heard the familiar clicking sound of the locks being activated. I lay there for a long time, motionless, trying to determine if anything was broken. My jaw felt as if it might be. I knew it would heal quickly, but for the moment, I was in a great deal of pain.

  Tomorrow, I would be subjected to another round of testing.

  A short time later, the lights went out. They always went out at the same time every night. I looked forward to it. That was the only time I had any real peace. I practiced visualization techniques to help me maintain my sanity throughout the degrading tests, the interrogations and the beatings. My mental control was becoming more focused with each session.

  Tonight, I was going to put it to the test.

  I lay supine on the bed, closed my eyes and focused on the pain in my jaw. Finally, the pain subsided. I touched my jaw. The pain was gone.

  I continued to focus, this time on the house in New Zealand. I
was climbing the stairs. I could see it clearly. I entered the bedroom. Lynne was asleep. I went over to the crib and wondered why Lynne hadn’t moved the baby to the nursery we’d prepared before I left.

  My son slept soundly, unaware of the turmoil surrounding him. I wanted to touch him, to hold him, but reluctantly decided not to wake him.

  I turned to my wife. She lay on my side of the bed, hugging my pillow. I sat next to her, watching her sleep. I could tell she’d been crying. I did this to you, I thought, overwhelmed by guilt. I took you away from everyone and everything you knew, made you a fugitive, and then I left you. I wonder if you’ll ever be able to forgive me.

  I brushed a strand of her hair off her face and kissed her cheek. She stirred a little, turning onto her back. I kissed her again and she wrapped her arms around my neck, holding me tightly. I kissed her again, pushing the blankets away so there would be nothing between us….

  I opened my eyes. My heart thumped wildly inside my chest. I was back in my prison.

  It had only been a dream, but it felt so real. I’d been there, in the house in New Zealand. I’d touched my son. I’d made love to my wife. I could still feel her in my arms. I could smell her, taste her. Tonight, my visualization exercises had exceeded my expectations. I’d left my earthly prison. I’d somehow left my physical body. I’d transcended time and space and had made love to my wife.

  How?

  87

  Lynne

  I love you….

  I lay in bed in the darkness, unable to stop crying. It was a dream, but it felt so real. He’d come back to us. We made love. I felt his lips, his body, his breath on my skin. I felt the familiar softness of his beard.

  I was screaming inside, my love for him mingling with the deep sadness I felt at my loss—and my anger at him for leaving. Why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t you have just mailed it to the authorities? Why did you have to do it yourself?

  The baby started to cry. I went to him, lifting him from his crib, cuddling him. He was so perceptive. As young as he was, he sensed my pain. He picked up on my fear, the fear that had prompted me to move his crib into my bedroom so that he would never be out of my sight. He’s all I have left, I thought angrily.

  Two short years ago—had it only been two years?—I had my work, my family, and a man I loved in spite of my best efforts. Now, my work was gone. My husband was gone. I lived in fear that this child I wanted so desperately, Connor’s gift to me, would be taken from me as well.

  I never left the property. Gabriel and Rafaela saw to it that all of our needs were met. I had everything I needed.

  Everything except my husband.

  I sat in the rocker, nursing Kiwi, wondering if we’d ever have a normal life again. Wondering if Connor was alive, if I would ever see him again outside my dreams. I needed answers. I needed closure. I imagined him being beaten. I imagined him being killed for defying the cartel. I looked down at the baby in my arms and wondered if Connor would see our son grow up.

  No. He’s alive, I thought. He was here, tonight. He was in this room. He made love to me.

  He’s alive, reaching out to me….

  I stared at the computer monitor for a long time, at the open email form. I wanted to contact my family, contact Tim and Isabella, let them all know I was alive. I wanted to pick up the phone and call them. I wanted to get on a plane and fly to the US or to Egypt…but I couldn’t.

  Trust no one, Connor had told me. Stay here.

  I knew he was right. I knew if I left, Kiwi and I would be at risk. The minute we surfaced, it would be open season.

  Could I e-mail Tim?

  It can be traced, Connor had warned me. They’ll be watching, waiting….

  I’m a prisoner in my own home, I realized, though not for the first time. Then an idea began to form. How easy would it be to trace snail mail? I wondered. Even the postal service has a problem with that. She took paper and a pen from the drawer and started to write…

  Dear Tim and Isabella,

  I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused

  you. I’m sorry for all you’ve had to suffer

  alone. I wish I could have told you

  why Connor and I had to leave so

  abruptly, but we believed we could

  protect you by remaining silent.

  I can’t tell you now. I can’t even

  tell you where I am.

  I can introduce you to our

  son, Kiwi. Actually, his name is

  Daniel Ewan Mackenzie, but we

  called him Kiwi before he was

  born. It stuck. As you can see,

  he’s a carbon copy of Connor.

  I was just the incubator. I hope

  one day soon, you’ll get to meet

  him.

  Love,

  Lynne

  88

  Connor

  I was on my knees beside the bed, my eyes closed tightly. I didn’t know how much more I could take. The beatings were more intense and more frequent with each passing day. I wanted to die. I wanted it to be over. I endured only because I knew when they finally allowed me to die, it would mean they had found Lynne and my son.

  I bore the pain and humiliation believing that in doing so, I was protecting my family.

  “Now you begin to understand.”

  I looked up. There was a woman standing beside me—beautiful, with long, brilliant red hair and eyes that gleamed like emeralds. She looked so familiar—at first, I thought I was looking at my mother, but I quickly realized it was not Anne.

  “I do know you,” I said slowly.

  “Yes,” she said in a soft, melodious voice. “I’ve been with you all of your life.”

  I got up slowly. “You’re—”

  “Rafaela.”

  I didn’t understand. “Rafaela is with my wife,” I started. “She’s an older woman, a bit frumpy, quite a bit shorter—”

  “Like this?” She seemed to morph before my eyes, becoming the caretaker who had delivered my son, then resuming her more attractive form. I was sure I was hallucinating. Was it a seizure, or was it the drugs they’d been giving me?

  “How did you get here? Are you working for them?” I was horrified.

  “I work only for God,” she assured me.

  “God?”

  “Gabriel and I were sent to protect you and your wife while you awaited the birth of your child.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Gabriel performed your marriage ceremony. We witnessed the birth of your son. As I delivered Daniel, Gabriel delivered you.”

  I sank down next to her. “I was delivered by an angel,” I said slowly.

  She nodded.

  “But he wasn’t my father?”

  “No.”

  “You know who my father was,” I guessed.

  “No,” she said. “Only God Himself can answer that question for you.”

  “Why do they want my son?”

  “Dante has interpreted the prophecy,” she said. “He knows that Daniel will one day follow you in your calling, and that it is he who will do battle with one of his own blood.”

  “Who will he have to fight?”

  “I do not know.”

  “What's your role in this insanity?” I asked then.

  “I have been your guardian since your birth,” she explained. “It was my duty to protect you, to guide you to your destiny.”

  I shook my head. “Then why am I here?”

  “You had to be irretrievably broken before you could finally begin to relinquish control to God and allow him to work through you,” Rafaela said patiently. “Even now you fight what you know in your heart to be the truth.”

  “I see you here, now, and still I can’t believe,” I confessed.

  “Honest communication. That’s a start,” she said.

  “Why did my mother have to die?” I asked.

  “God did not kill your mother.”

  “He didn’t prevent it, either.” The resentment surged to the surface. “
Why did he not protect her?”

  “You had to live without love so that you would realize how precious it is.”

  “Collateral damage? Is that all she was?” That made me angry.

  “Had your life not taken the course it has, you would not have become whole again.”

  “Whole?” The prophet must become whole again in the eyes of God.

  I thought of Lynne and Kiwi.

  “I whispered to you the night your sister asked you to go with her to the lecture,” Rafaela told me. “I encouraged you to go with her so that you and Lynne would meet, and you would go with her to Egypt.”

  “Did you also bring my mother and Edward together?”

  “Nothing happens by accident,” she said.

  I nodded slowly as it all began to sink in. “Lynne was right, then?”

  “That you were chosen to be the prophet? Yes, she was correct.” Rafaela put her hand on mine. “Connor, there is not much time. You must surrender yourself to God and allow his power to come through you.”

  “If you’re an angel, you know my name isn’t really Connor,” I said, withdrawing my hand.

  “It is now,” she said. “As I’ve told you, there are no coincidences. Andrew died the night you confessed your love to the woman who became your wife, and you became Connor Mackenzie. Do you know what that name means?”

  I shook my head.

  “Wise, intelligent leader,” Rafaela said. “That’s what you’ll become.”

  I forced a short laugh. “The wisdom of Solomon, is that what’s expected of me?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “I can’t be a prophet.” I got up and walked to the other side of the cell, then turned to look at her again. “That would really be the blind leading the blind.”