The Best of All Possible Worlds

by Richard D. Parker

  “And we won’t either!” The red-haired man yelled in support, though why he felt the need to protect the odd young man he couldn’t say. Most of those who’d stayed roared in agreement but again a few moved off, growing afraid. But those who stayed felt good about their support and always they sat around the campfire and talked late into the night.

  But in a slow trickle, the crowd finally dissipated. They left for the most part happy and satisfied. In the morning most would head off their own way, glad they’d come across the odd young man, but some tagged along to the next stop. So as they slowly moved west the crowds around Galen grew.

  “Galen knows more than he’s telling,” Blue told Adam one day as they sat in the back of the RV on a built in couch. They were drinking coffee and mulling over the strange series of events that had somehow pulled them together. Adam nodded, alternately eyeing Galen and gazing out at the countryside passing by as they made their way up I-90. They were about a dozen miles north of Bighorn, Wyoming and moving north toward Montana.

  Galen was sitting at the kitchen table studying something on Camille’s laptop. Adam had to give it to the boy…he was always learning…always striving to know more. It was a refreshing quality.

  “How so?” Adam asked as Vio suddenly appeared in the doorway of the back bedroom. Her hair was still tousled from sleep, but she looked refreshed from her nap and when she caught sight of Adam she smiled at him gloriously. Adam’s interest in the surrounding countryside instantly faded and he moved over and offered Vio a seat, which she took eagerly.

  “…he is and what he truly knows,” Blue was saying but it was obvious that Adam caught very little of it. Blue just smiled and watched the new lovers for a moment without pressing the issue and then he stood and wondered about Camille and wandered off to find her.

  “Hello,” Vio said.

  “Hello,” Adam answered thinking about their kiss back in South Dakota. Much to his dismay, they’d not repeated the act, though he desperately wanted to and he was relatively certain she did as well. The previous night they’d slept in separate beds though they were only separated by a foot of empty space. Vio slept with Avigail and Adam with Galen, all on beds ingeniously created from the couches of the RV, and while the children lay near the outer walls of the motor home, Adam and Vio found themselves near the center of the vehicle, only inches apart.

  Before sleep, they lay in the dark, on their sides, facing one another, occasionally smiling, but mostly just looking, each studying the face of the other. They stayed awake long into the night and though they never touched, the intimacy they shared with just their eyes was enough to satisfy them both…for the moment.

  †

  Reverend Carter Heyworth bolted upright, startling his wife, who was thumbing through a tabloid magazine at his side.

  “My word Carter, will you sit still,” Alice scolded and pulled the covers back into order around her. Heyworth ignored her just as he’d been doing for the past four years; their marriage now was nothing more than habit.

  “…his body found in a remote field in eastern South Dakota, early this morning. Torres was traveling under the alias “Timothy Walker.” The television reporter said standing alongside some lonesome highway with nothing but empty fields in the background.

  “Authorities located the body of the suspected San Bernardino Clinic Bomber nearly three days after neighbors reported the murder of local rancher Sam Turner. Turner, who was shot several times in the back, was found on his property near a car with California plates.” The camera panned away from the reporter and zoomed in on a grove of trees in the distance.

  “Torres, who was found not guilty last March in the shooting death of Colorado doctor Tammy Welker, was found stabbed to death, his body dumped in a shallow creek about a quarter of a mile off the highway. As yet the authorities can find no motive for Sam Turner’s death. A local rancher, Turner has no known affiliations with Planned Parenthood or any other right to choose organization, nor do police have any leads on who may have killed the notorious Nico Torres. For CNN, I’m Jim McMillen reporting live from Dell Rapids, South Dakota.”

  Heyworth sat very still, eyes glued on the television but his mind elsewhere.

  “For pity sake Carter, sit back,” Alice scolded, but Heyworth didn’t hear her, and instead jumped out of bed and stormed out of the room without even pausing to put on his slippers. Alice watched him go, frowned and then turned her attention back to her magazine.

  Heyworth was in his study in less than thirty seconds. He sat down heavily behind his desk and had to fight a sudden wave of nausea. When it passed he picked up the phone and dialed a number in Las Vegas.

  He listened anxiously as the phone on the other end rang three times before someone finally answered. “Mario’s,” a gruff voice said on the other line.

  “Yes…” Heyworth stammered. “I’d like to order the Caroline Special.”

  There was a long pause on the line. “Pick up or delivery?” The voice finally asked.

  “Pick up,” Heyworth replied.

  “It’ll be ready in about an hour,” the voice answered and promptly hung up.

  Heyworth slowly returned the receiver to its cradle and then strode back to the bedroom. Alice was still reading.

  “I have to go to the office,” Carter said. His wife grunted, barely listening and caring less. If she’d spoken Heyworth would not have heard her in any case. He dressed quickly and twenty minutes later drove through the main gates of the Divine Church of Christ.

  “I’m expecting a visitor,” he told Marlin, who manned the gate during the overnight hours. “His name is Alberto Torres,” Heyworth told the guard though he was positive this also was only an alias; however that was fine by him he had no desire to know the man’s true identity.

  Heyworth circled the drive and rode up to the massive cathedral without truly seeing his surroundings. The main church, located outside Virginia Hills, just south of Reno, Nevada was large beyond all reckoning, but tonight Carter was not impressed. He parked around in the rear and strode into the back offices, flipping on lights as he went. The Divine Church of Christ was situated on a massive thirty acre complex, and was centered around an immense nave which was capable of holding ten thousand worshipers. Toward one end was an enormous stage complete with professional lighting designed by a famed Hollywood company especially for the weekly cable broadcasts. The main building also came with its own television and radio studio used mostly for commercial work, an office wing, a secure walk-in vault and a cafeteria. Also on the grounds was an elementary school, another smaller more intimate and ornate church for weddings, plus several out buildings used to house the vehicles of the congregation.

  Carter turned on the lights to his office, which was large, plush and dominated by a six foot tall painting of the Virgin Mary holding a smiling baby Jesus. The painting normally calmed Carter Heyworth, but tonight he barely glanced at it, instead he paced back and forth across his office for another hour and a half before Marlin’s voice finally sounded on the intercom.

  “Your visitor has arrived Sir.”

  Heyworth flipped a switch.

  “Send him up.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  Heyworth waited nervously for what seemed like hours before there was a knock on his door. Heyworth jumped in spite of himself.

  “Come in,” he said and couldn’t help but notice the croak in his own voice. And though Alberto Torres was a loyal member of his congregation, Heyworth cringed at the thought of being alone with him and made a quick vow that no matter what happened in the future he never would be again.

  Alberto Torres was tall and thin, though his shoulders were broad and his handshake was python strong. He was dark complected, probably of some eastern European descent, but Heyworth could find no trace of an accent in the man’s voice. As he entered the man’s dark eyes found Heyworth and locked on.

  “So you’ve heard,” Alberto said very softly.

  Heyworth nodded.
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br />   “May I sit?” The man asked calmly, his eyes never leaving Heyworth.

  “Of course…of course,” Carter stammered. “Where are my manners? Would you care for a drink?”

  “Thank you but no,” Alberto answered easily, a hint of a smile on his dark face.

  Heyworth was relieved. He had a strong desire to keep his large oak desk between Alberto and himself.

  “I am saddened,” the man continued. “Nico was not only my younger brother but he was one of my best and most faithful…employees. He never failed me…until now.”

  Heyworth wanted to ask what was next…the boy was still alive. He had to be killed or he could lose everything. Cloning a human being was not a transgression his flock was likely to forgive even if the DNA was that of their savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. But he said nothing, even though he’d paid this man an enormous amount of money to carry out the task.

  The man smiled at the Reverend as if he could read his thoughts and Heyworth had to repress a shiver.

  “The FBI is involved,” Alberto said softly, his eyes holding Heyworth’s, “and the Department of Energy.”

  “The DOE was from the beginning,” Heyworth argued then clamped his mouth shut as he realized what he was doing.

  “Yes…perhaps,” the man agreed easily. “You needn’t worry, the target will still die…but there are now complications…challenges. You must pay double.”

  Heyworth’s eyes went wide. “Double!”

  The man nodded.

  “But…”

  “You will transfer the money into this account,” the man said and slid a small piece of paper toward Heyworth. Carter made no move to pick it up. ‘Double!’ His mind screamed at him.

  “The transfer will be made by noon Tuesday,” the man added and eyed Heyworth closely. “Please do so and only the boy need die.”

  “Wha…what do you mean?” Heyworth stammered.

  “You’ve exposed my operation,” Alberto explained quietly. “The money by noon Tuesday…and the boy will die.”

  Heyworth nodded glumly and watched as the man rose and slowly left the room. As the door closed behind him, Heyworth breathed an enormous sigh of relief though his heart continued to pound in his chest for several more minutes.

  †

  The growing caravan moved up through Montana, across Idaho, through the southeast corner of Washington and then down into Oregon. All along the way they picked up additional vehicles and people, like a strong magnet passed over iron filings. By the time they crossed into northern Nevada the train of vehicles reached nearly thirty with over a hundred people in the main group. The Newton’s appeared to know every little out of the way campsite within the lower forty-eight states and though most of them were small, family owned businesses, the sites were always large enough to accommodate the steadily growing group of followers. And though the group was growing, it was built around a small collection of core followers, a few from as from as far back as Dell Rapids, but there was a young newlywed couple from Wyoming and a family of three they’d picked up on the Idaho border that quickly became very devoted to Galen. Otherwise, there was a constant flux in the numbers of the other members, some would stay a day or two and then drift away back into their normal lives, some would only stay a few hours, but everyone was changed by their encounter with Galen and his party.

  Adam was driving one early morning a week after their departure from the Newton’s farm. Christine sat sleepily at his side, while Dorothy and Camille bustled about the small but convenient kitchen preparing everyone a large breakfast as was their habit.

  “This can’t continue,” Christine said softly so that no one in the back could overhear. “You know it can’t,” she added with a glance at her brother. “Word will get out eventually and we’ll be found.”

  Adam frowned and looked over at his younger sister. She looked older today, tired and strung out. The traveling, worrying and constant search for answers was having a dramatic effect. “Are you sleeping at all?”

  Christine shook her head and smiled sadly. “Not much, just for an hour or two at a time. I can’t get my brain to slow down and turn off.” She paused and glanced quickly back into the interior of the RV, but no one was paying the least bit of attention to their conversation.

  She leaned over close. “Adam,” she whispered, “I’m not sure who Galen is anymore…what Galen is anymore. Before we fled Cryogen I argued with Ian, I insisted Galen was human, that he was just a little boy…an innocent. I’m not so sure anymore.”

  “But he is innocent,” Adam whispered back. “He’d never intentionally hurt anyone.”

  Christine shook her head. “That’s not what I mean,” she countered. “I’m not sure he’s truly human anymore.”

  Adam stared at her long enough to hit the warning strip along the shoulder of the road. He glanced back up and righted the RV. “Of course he’s human,” he finally argued back, “you engineered him yourself from human DNA, hell from your DNA!”

  “Yes,” Christine hissed quietly. “He started out as human, but Galen claims to be able to manipulate his own genes,” Christine gulped at the implications of the statement but her brother seemed unimpressed by the proposed ability. ‘Layman!’ She thought in disgust. “If that’s true…it would take very few changes to move Galen out of the realm of the human species and into a new one. I just don’t know anymore…I need a lab; I need a good lab.”

  Adam continued to frown, Galen was human. He acted human; he looked human; he began as a human. Didn’t that count for more than a few chromosomes no one could actually see?

  “Look,” Christine explained quietly with another quick glance back into the RV, “human DNA is impossibly large and intricate, but it is not so different from other mammalian DNA. Chimpanzee and human DNA are over 98% identical, but the 2% that is different makes all the difference. No one would mistake a chimp for a human being.”

  “Are you saying Galen is a chimp?” Adam asked sarcastically.

  Christine punched him in the arm. “No, but I am saying that it wouldn’t take many changes to his DNA until he was as different from you and me as we are from Tarzan’s little friend.”

  They both fell silent as Dorothy brought up a couple of egg sandwiches, Christine’s consisted only of egg whites on wheat bread while Adam’s was stacked on a croissant and came with ham, bacon and cheese as well.

  “You’re an angel,” he told her, and Dorothy patted his shoulder and smiled.

  “You just stop when you get tired and Ned will take over,” she told him and glided easily back to the rear of the vehicle.

  “She’s really more like Lucifer,” Christine whispered when the large woman was out of earshot. “She’s going to kill you with all that,” she added, grimacing at her brother’s choice of breakfast food.

  “If I’m going to die,” Adam retorted and then took an exceptionally large bite, just to bug his sister, “I want it to be on a full stomach.”

  “Adam I need to find a lab,” Christine said gravely. “I need to know what is going on with Galen and my equipment is woefully inadequate.”

  Adam shook his head. “Then they’ll find us for sure. The labs will be watched.”

  “Adam I have to know,” Christine whispered intensely. “All of this,” she added with a nod toward the interior of the vehicle, “is making me very uncomfortable. Adam what if it’s true? What if Heyworth is actually right? What if the DNA from the shroud really was from Jesus Christ? How else can you explain what’s going on?”

  Adam remained dead silent for several minutes. Over the past few weeks many of these very same questions had invaded his own mind, but he’d disregarded them as unanswerable. He glanced over at Christine again who had yet to take a bite from her sandwich. “I don’t know,” he finally answered. “But if he is and the Christian public finds out Cryogen made a human clone of Jesus…well I wouldn’t want to be around.”

  “He’s not a clone,” Christine reminded her brother absently.

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bsp; “I’m sure the moral majority will recognize the difference,” he shot back. “So what do you suggest? If you get anywhere near a genetics lab the DOE will be all over us.”

  “And then he’s as good as dead,” she whispered sadly. “I’m not even sure they’d let me study the remains.”

  “Christine!” Adam said louder than he intended then added more quietly. “Whatever Galen is now, he’s not your personal science experiment anymore.”

  “I know,” Christine answered with a hurt look on her face. “Whatever he is, he saved my life.”

  Adam’s expression softened.

  “So what are we going to do?” Christine asked again. “If we keep wandering the country picking up vacationing campers, word will surely get out.”

  “We could go to Heyworth,” Adam suggested. “If he got a look at Galen’s entourage perhaps he’d be swayed to help.”

  Christine considered this, and actually toyed with the idea some nights, but then she remembered Heyworth’s last visit. Galen had made him mad, very mad, and Galen never made anyone mad. Whatever the Reverend wanted from the boy, Christine didn’t think Galen was willing to give it to him. Heyworth was not someone used to being denied and if Galen once again refused to cooperate then the Reverend would still be mad.

  She shook her head. “I think we should go see Paula’s uncle…in Chicago,” Christine finally said and Adam’s heart jumped. “I think we should go public. It’ll buy us some time…it will buy Galen some time.”