The Best of All Possible Worlds

by Richard D. Parker

  “Hold!” the man repeated and began to move quickly down the aisle toward Vio. He made it about half way before the entire right side of the plane opened up revealing a water filled ditch with a vast field of corn beyond.

  Once the bridge opened the wind began to howl and the plane pitched violently to the right and the nose tipped downward pulling Armstrong and the other two men off their feet. Vio was slammed backward into Avigail, who somehow held her upright all while maintaining her concentration and keeping the bridge open. The three suited men and the severe looking woman were immediately sucked out of the plane and through the bridge where they all slammed down on the gravel road.

  “Hurry!” Avigail yelled over the rush of the wind and then screamed as the plane began to spin, rolling slowly as it fell from the sky.

  Vio grabbed the back of the seat across from her and pulled herself out of Avigail’s lap and slowly began to make her way toward the bridge. She reached the aisle with difficulty and pulled herself farther toward the back of the plane and freedom, completely conscious of Avigail struggling behind her. Toward the front of the plane Colonel Bradford and his partner struggled against the force of the spiraling plane, fear etched on all of their faces. Vio ignored them for the moment; they were too far away to be much of a threat.

  A gunshot rang out though the sound was nearly lost in the noise and chaos of the falling plane.

  “Stop!” Vio heard Armstrong yell but she did not pause her struggles to reach the bridge however she did glance back in order to assess the threat. Surprisingly Armstrong, who had drawn his own weapon, was not looking at her or threatening her with it, instead he aimed it directly at Bradford as he struggled to right himself.

  “Drop the gun!” Armstrong ordered, his face set as he fought to stay upright without the benefit of an extra hand.

  The Colonel stared at Armstrong in surprise for a moment, but something in his subordinate’s eyes helped him decide and he dropped his weapon just as the right wing tore away from the fuselage. The nose of the plane abruptly pitched toward the earth, falling out of the sky at an even greater angle, but thankfully the roll abruptly stopped. The loose pistol flew down the aisle and banged against the cockpit door firing off one errant shot.

  “Armstrong, what the hell are you doing?” Bradford yelled as he struggled to stay on his feet, but he was now unarmed so Armstrong ignored him.

  Vio turned back; she was nearly to the bridge.

  “Wait!” Armstrong yelled again, but Vio ignored him. “The swords,” he added and this time she stopped directly on the cusp of the bridge.

  “Hurry,” Avigail said from directly behind her. “It’s hard to keep open!”

  “In the compartment across from you,” Armstrong yelled and struggled toward the back of the plane, the nose pitched farther and it was all he could do to hang on. If he had two good hands, he might have been able to reach them but without his right he had no chance.

  Vio paused and then dropped to where Armstrong indicated; she fumbled with the latch a moment but then pulled the bin open. Inside was a small black case. She tried to snap it open and failed. She glanced at Armstrong, who nodded so she quickly threw the case through the bridge and into the ditch beyond.

  “Go!”Avigail yelled. “We’re going to hit the ground!”

  “Stop! All of you!” Bradford yelled as he slowly made his way toward the back of the plane.

  Vio glanced once more at Armstrong, who smiled at her and nodded, suddenly resigned to the fact that he was going to die. She made a move toward the bridge but then with power she didn’t realize she possessed all noise and motion came to a sudden halt. Time was again bowing to its master. Vio literally fell toward Armstrong, the going very easy with gravity’s help. She grabbed him tightly by the lapels and slowly began to drag him up toward the back of the plane. Waves of hunger and dizziness coursed through her but she refused to give in and little by little she pulled the dead weight of the man until once again she was at the cusp of the bridge. Without even realizing it, she released time and literally pushed the surprised Armstrong through the opening.

  “Stop!” Bradford screamed from the front section of the plane. He was clearly panicked and was fighting to reach her. But Vio ignored him and quickly jumped through the bridge, her ears popping forcefully as she landed in the tall, wet grass. Avigail landed directly on top of Vio, both panting from the enormous effort. Despite their exhaustion, everyone looked up as the scream of engines grew louder and louder. Avigail scrambled off of her teacher and Vio sat up quickly and caught sight of the plane only seconds before it slammed into a field less than a quarter of a mile away. An instant later a fireball rushed back up into the sky as if to fill a void caused by the falling plane.

  “Don’t move!” the female agent shouted. “Don’t move a goddamned muscle,” she added, standing shakily in the middle of the gravel road. She was dirty, her hair was disheveled and she had a wild look in her eyes, but to her credit she kept her weapon trained directly on Vio though her hands were noticeably shaking. Vio fought down a painful cramp and then slowly stood, keeping a close eye on the woman and the two men who soon joined her. A third was lying in the middle of the road and by the way his head was angled Vio could tell his neck was broken. But she quickly turned her attention back to the agents at hand. All three had their weapons drawn and pointed directly at her. Avigail looked to Vio for direction and slowly stood as well.

  “She said don’t move!” One of the male agents yelled, clearly frightened and seconds later a shot rang out, echoing around the corn fields.

  †

  “My friends, my fellow Christians,” Reverend Heyworth said in his most comforting tone of voice. At the moment, he was not trying to incite his flock, rather he was attempting to placate them, make them understand; sway them to see things his way. Heyworth was very good at what he did and the millions of dollars that flowed into the Divine Church of Christ was evidence of his skill. He just hoped he had the talent to keep the money flowing. But Heyworth was confident. He’d spent the entire morning in prayer. God loved him and blessed him, of that he was utterly sure.

  “I come to you on this Sunday morning to confess that I have sinned,” he added, looking contrite and humble. “I have mistakenly allowed science to lead me down a false path. And though my actions were pure and my aim divine, I know now that I was wrong.”

  Heyworth paused for a long moment, allowing his audience to understand his words and to offer their forgiveness.

  “Science has once again lied to me as it has to so many others,” he said, his voice growing louder and stronger. “Science has led me down the path of wickedness, deceit and pride, but my heart is open once more to the glory of God. I renounce my own foolishness and stand before you and humbly ask God Almighty for forgiveness.”

  A chorus of hallelujah and amen echoed off the church walls in answer as his live audience quickly gave their support. Heyworth smiled inwardly and began to build on his sermon.

  “My friends, I am filled with fear and trepidation; alarmed at the path our great country is taking,” he continued giving the camera his most sincere smile. “Evil has been unleashed and is within our midst. A clone, a clone of Man, has been brought forth into this land of milk and honey. And he is an insult to our Lord and Savior. The clone has no soul, for it is not a child of God; the clone is a beast, a soulless wolf brought forth to prey on the innocent and the righteous. He is a wolf set loose among the lambs.”

  A rumble of discontent rolled through the audience, starting out low but steadily growing as their outrage began to swell.

  “This clone, this monster, created in the labs of Cryogen, has been freed to roam our countryside,” the Reverend began again, gaining steam and feeling the power of his words building with each passing moment. “And I tell you he is an abomination!”

  The crowd erupted into cheers of virtuous indignation.

  “My friends, God is watching and I tell you he is displeased with the
hubris of these scientists from Cryogen,” the Reverend continued, feeding off the growing electricity flowing from the crowd, his voice rising until he was fairly shouting to the heavens. Joy broke over him in waves as he spoke, causing Heyworth to visibly shudder with pleasure. As he continued, he convinced even himself of the righteousness of his words; the justice of his cause, and the very will of God.

  “God created Man in his own image,” Heyworth said, bringing his rhetoric down just a touch, so that he could create the swell once more, “and because of God, Man has a soul and thus can live at the feet of our Lord in everlasting glory, but the clone was not created by God; he was created by men, by the godless scientists of Cryogen. Is Cryogen God?” Heyworth asked, his voice rising once again.

  “No!” The crowd yelled in response.

  “Can Cryogen create a soul?”

  “No!”

  “Can science create a child of God?”

  “No!”

  “Is a clone a child of God?”

  “No!”

  “No I say!” Heyworth yelled back at the crowd. “Only God can create a soul!”

  “Amen!” screamed the crowd.

  “But Cryogen has placed a clone among us…a soulless one…a godless one,” Heyworth said softly now. “And a man without a soul is a vessel for the devil…a vessel for the beast…a vessel for evil. Our government has made an error. Putting this clone to death is no sin, for a clone has no soul and therefore is not truly alive. A clone is not truly human and certainly, not truly a man. He is an abomination and should be put to death!”

  “Death!” yelled the crowd.

  “My fellow Christians,” Heyworth continued, looking directly into the television camera. “It is your solemn duty, your duty to God, to put an end to this evil before he brings down the wrath of God on us all. A clone is not a man…and this clone must die. It is the will of God! God has spoken to me! The clone must die!”

  The crowd cheered, arms raised to the sky in jubilation. Together, as one they prayed to God for deliverance and for the death of the clone. Reverend Heyworth felt their power surge over him and gloried in it. He stood tall and confident on the stage, his eyes blazing, reflecting the power of God. He stared directly into the camera, his fierce gaze penetrating the lens and the ether until it reached the television audience beyond. He held them all captive for one brief, glorious moment until the screen suddenly went dark and a commercial for oven cleaner took his place.

  †

  Ned drove the RV down I-55 heading south out of Chicago. They were followed by seven other recreational vehicles and an escort of three black FBI sedans, one in the lead and two trailing the caravan. Ned and Galen’s large group of devoted followers arrived in the city, convoy style, and headed directly to the Federal building. After a brief delay, the line of recreational vehicles was admitted through the protestors, though they were allowed access grudgingly and only after Galen insisted that Ned was his ride to St. Louis.

  There were a few tense moments, but after a few calls Agent Collier confirmed that the DOE had reluctantly agreed to release the subject named Galen Dawkins and his group, but they were to be kept under strict surveillance at all times. Even so Collier still hesitated before finally agreeing. She would personally be riding in the RV with Galen, along with Agent Sanders of the NSA. Collier was not about to let the boy out of her sights again.

  In the end Adam and Christine had no choice but to agree, though neither was happy or comfortable with the situation. But Galen and Dorothy took the circumstances in stride. Galen happily greeted the two interlopers and even gave agent Collier a long heartfelt hug…and of course Dorothy tried to feed them until they passed out.

  Adam was suspicious, the gassing in the FBI building still very fresh in his mind. He didn’t trust either of the agents and was all for throwing them off the bus, so to speak. But Galen wouldn’t hear of it and welcomed them openly. Even so, Adam suddenly wanted to get to St. Louis as soon as possible. He expected them to make the trip in about five hours, barring any unforeseen problems. Adam ignored the two agents who sat at the kitchen table with Galen and Dorothy, eating sandwiches and barbequed beans. He rode along in the front next to Ned, his mind lost in tangled thoughts of Vio. He was anxious and would have been completely out of his mind with worry if Galen had not assured him of her well being and his fervent expectation that she would be meeting them in St. Louis. The news made Adam impatient. He wanting to yell at Ned to drive faster, but the black Buick Lacrosse in the lead kept an irritatingly constant speed of sixty-five no matter how close the RV followed behind.

  They’d left Chicago without incident, though things were a bit tense as they exited the FBI building. They rolled slowly through the now massive crowd of protestors that ringed the block. The crowd screamed and shouted, most in anger but there were a few who offered some encouragement, which was refreshing. To Adam it all seemed surreal and he wondered briefly if this was what it was like to be a Beatle back during the British invasion. People yelling, angry faces, some hitting the car, some offering support with smiles and the thumbs up sign, it was all very confusing. But once away from the building and the crowds, their way was open and clear at least until they came to the small town of Dwight, Illinois.

  Just north of the town, they drove past several small groups of people standing along the side of the south bound lanes. All of them were waving flags and signs at the passing vehicles. But they were by and gone before Adam gave it much thought.

  “What was that?” Christine asked from the very back of the vehicle where she sat with Camille and Blue and their daughter, but before Adam could reply another group appeared up ahead waving signs, some of them were very bold and moved out onto the shoulder of the interstate highway despite the speed of the passing vehicles.

  Ned changed lanes, following the FBI vehicle’s lead, but as they topped a small rise he saw a staggering number of people ahead. They packed the side of the road and the center median. Adam could only guess at the number. They were lined up for as far as he could see.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Ned whispered as they sped past the initial protestors. Once again, Adam recognized a whole host of expressions on the blurred faces as they streaked by. Most reflected fear, anger and hate but there were a few that seemed just curious and a great minority that offered looks of support and love. Many were waving signs.

  “Death to the Clone!”

  “Death to Cryogen!”

  “The Devil is a Clone!”

  Were a few of the signs Adam was able to read before they moved beyond them, but he also caught sight of few positive messages.

  “Go Galen!”

  “Thou shalt not kill! Even Clones!” A couple read, and then they were gone. And it seemed everyone was screaming though their voices were lost in the noise of the tires on the road and the rush of the wind. The first rock hit the RV just before exit 220.

  “Shit!” Adam said though he was unsure if the projectile was meant for them or the people on the opposite side of the interstate.

  “My God,” Christine murmured as she caught sight of the overpass up ahead. It was crammed with people…angry people.

  “Hang on everyone,” Adam warned and turned to glance back at the group. To his relief he saw concern but no real fear. Dorothy was hugging Galen close as if by sheer will she could protect him and Blue was frowning as his daughter Marigold moved to his side. The two federal agents looked very surprised and not at all happy.

  “Don’t they understand who he is?” Marigold asked. She was young and not yet accustomed to the stupidity of her fellow man. At first no one answered and as they passed under the Highway 47 overpass, the crowd packed along the bridge became more menacing. All at once they pelted the passing vehicles with rocks, batteries and at least one tomato. Adam flinched as a fist sized rock barely missed the lead car and bounced high off the pavement before it clanged loudly against the front of the RV.

  “Son of a nut!” Ned yelled over t
he barrage of rocks as they rained down on the top of the motor coach.

  “Damn,” Blue said in his strangely calm manner, but in a moment they streaked under the bridge and out the far side.

  Adam leaned forward and glanced out the side mirror. He could see rocks falling onto the road behind them but fortunately no more struck the vehicle. Upon closer inspection Adam could make out the heavily cracked windshield on the trailing Winnebago. Seconds later a large bang sounded on the side of the RV. The crowds gathered along the side of the interstate began to rain missiles at them.

  “Son of a…!” Ned repeated. “We’ve got another overpass coming up!” he warned everyone.

  Christine left her seat and was now crouched between the two captain’s chairs up front. “We have to get off this road,” she told Adam, who nodded. They could all see the crowds of people lining the bridge up ahead as the lead car began to weave erratically between lanes. Ned tried to follow suit but the large vehicle was much less responsive. Another bang hit the side and when Adam glanced again out the side mirror he saw that rocks were indeed flying not only at the vehicles but between the watching spectators.

  “They’re not all against us,” he commented just as Collier’s cell phone began to ring.

  “Collier,” she answered and then remained quiet for a few seconds, moments later she hung up. “We’re going to get off the interstate at Odell and take 47 down to 116 then cross over to I-57,” she told them and then glanced down at Galen, who was still smiling despite the chaos of the last few minutes. She wondered at the boy’s peaceful manner. He had to know he was the cause of this shitstorm and it wasn’t likely to abate anytime soon. People, lots of people were calling for his head and the federal government might well have to enroll him in the witness protection program just to keep him safe. It was going to get ugly. The boy however, seemed unconcerned.