The Arrival

by J W Brazier

  They’d tease her, saying, “Dr. Wagner’s pontificating has affected your feminist code.” In private, she considered what they’d suggested. In truth, she’d played a part in the carnage with far too many ill-forgotten experiments. Project Phoenix had perpetrated a cruel injustice on the girls and their babies, all under their pretense of advancing science.

  Now Phoenix had reached an impasse. Three years of cutting-edge work produced nothing of substance except for a consistent string of horrible failures—until the arrival of Abram’s special team. It appeared to Deborah and her colleagues that when Abram had interjected an outside team, Project Phoenix made an inexplicable turnaround.

  She tried to sound and act joyous at hearing good news about the project, but remained puzzled by the dramatic reversal in their work. What had Abram’s team provided? What had she and the other scientists missed? And then she learned of another curious turn of events. Charles Wagner had disappeared. His sudden and mysterious illness—reported by Dr. Bruner as “severe depression”—surprised everyone. “Charles needed time off for his health and asked for an extended leave of absence,” Bruner had explained.

  Deborah was suspicious. It just didn’t make sense. Charles hadn’t appeared sick or depressed. She knew better. They were good friends, and she would’ve known.

  Several weeks passed. Deborah’s anxiety escalated from concern to fear. Something dreadful had happened to Charles, she felt sure of it. When her phone messages to him went unanswered, she went to his home. His car, gone; the front door, unlocked. She went inside and found her unanswered messages blinking on the answering machine. She looked around for signs of a struggle, or thieves, but nothing looked disturbed or ransacked. Appearance-wise, it was as if Charles had walked out the door and drove away—like he’d just vanished.

  Standing there in his living room, Deborah considered that, just before his disappearance, Charles had told her in confidence that he’d discovered startling information behind Project Phoenix. He’d even told her of a recent dream both he and Ian had experienced on the same night. Their nightmare involved their discovery in Palestine. Charles was adamant that there was a demonic influence over Project Phoenix, placing everyone in grave danger.

  Deborah pressed Charles at the time for an explanation for his outlandish suggestion. Why equate Project Phoenix and his work in Palestine with demonic influence? she’d asked. Charles refused to divulge any details or explain his assumptions further, but only continued to tease her curiosity: “Deborah, what Ian and I found in Palestine and GEM-Tech’s Project Phoenix are, without doubt, linked.

  Religion to Deborah was one of man’s vanities, and she’d argued as much, despite Charles’s stubborn insistence that demonic influence existed. What he’d suggested stretched her values and begged more questions than answers. The rub in her denials came in the frequency and strength in which the strange phenomenon had occurred—that, she couldn’t deny. Each event coincided with the stage of development in a girl’s pregnancy.

  Later, at home, Deborah thought about all that had happened. Demons and angels don’t exist. Myths and fairy tales … but then again, what if he’s right?

  One fact was plain to see: the anomalies they’d discussed were strongest around Mary.

  *

  “Wow, Doc, did you see that?”

  “No, Mary, I didn’t,” Deborah said. “What did I miss?”

  “It was so cool; the baby moved. He kicked my stomach. I think he’s anxious to get out.”

  “Mary, you said ‘he,’ but it could still be a girl.”

  “Yeah, well, a girl is great, but Abram says it’ll be a boy.”

  “Abram’s correct, Mary; your baby—I mean, he is doing fine, although every once in a while, doctors are surprised the ultrasound proves false. And don’t fret over the baby’s movements. It’s normal during the later stages of a pregnancy. Babies are unique.”

  Mary’s innocent, but curious smile seemed to beg a question. “Doc, I’ve a question. You ever had a baby? I mean, you ever been married and had a baby with someone you loved?”

  Deborah cocked her head and touched her chin, curious at the question, deciding how to answer.

  But Mary spoke again, sounding flustered now. “Heck, Doc, I get all mixed up, but you know what I’m talking about, don’t ya?”

  Deborah walked to the door and check the hallway. The coast clear, Deborah looked at Mary and grinned.

  Mary giggled and then, with both hands along her hips, wiggled her small body and bulging belly upright against her pillow and waited. Deborah walked back and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Years ago,” Deborah said, “there was this special young man I met in New York. We fell in love. Back then, we were adventurous, but dedicated to our careers. Every moment of each day with him was like living in a magical land.”

  Deborah drifted off a moment, lingering in blissful recollections. Looking excited, Mary hung on her every word, as if hearing a bedtime story for the first time. Deborah cleared her throat, feeling a little embarrassed she’d exposed her emotions.

  “I’m sorry, Mary. Where was I? Oh yes … Well, anyway, Mr. Solomon offered me the unique opportunity to work on this project, so our paths took a dramatic turn. We never married, and so, to answer your question, no, I haven’t any children at the present. Marriage for me is on hold for now. Between you and me, it’s odd we’re discussing this, because he’s been on my mind of late. Often, as a matter of fact, so we’ll see.”

  “Gosh, Doc, that’s was so cool, and romantic. I bet your friend was something. I mean, he was lucky enough to get your attention, you being so beautiful and smart and all.”

  Deborah laughed at Mary’s expressive mannerisms. “When I was about your age, my mom gave me good advice about love and marriage. She said: ‘Beauty and wealth aren’t requirements for marriage. Genuine love for each other, commitment, and honoring your marriage vows will stand the tests of time and its troubles.’”

  Mary tried to crack a smile, but just shrugged, as if to accept her ill-fated lot in life.

  “Your mom sounds smart like you, Doc. Anyway, someday, I’d like to be married, but I don’t think it’ll ever happen. Who’d want to marry a prostitute?”

  Mary’s eyes drifted away from Deborah. She rubbed her bulging stomach and played finger curls with her hair.

  “I had an old man before I took this job,” Mary said. “No doubt he’s long gone by now. I guess he’s sold everything I own and shacked up with a whore who’s supporting him, like I did.”

  Deborah listened with a sympathetic ear, but kept reserved. Involvement at a personal and emotional level with her patients, well, she knew it was wrong on many levels. She finished her notations in Mary’s chart. When she stood to leave, she reached out and gave Mary a reassuring pat on the arm.

  “Okay, Mary, we’ve finished our exams for today. I’ve enjoyed our time, but I have to go. I’ll come by and check on you later in the day. Is there anything I can do for you or have the nurse get you?”

  “Don’t forget my cheeseburger!” Mary pleaded, her lips puckered.

  Deborah was at the door when Mary blurted her order. She looked up and down the hallway, hoping Dr. Bruner’s assistants weren’t lingering about and overheard. Deborah raised her finger to her mouth.

  “Shhhh, someone might hear you. It’s our little secret.”

  Mary stifled a giggle and snuggled under her blankets. Deborah grinned and left the room, mouthing a silent, I’ll see you later.

  *

  Busy with her lab work, Deborah rechecked test results from the few remaining girls assigned to her team. Something wasn’t right. Mary’s tests were flawless, right down to the amino acids. The perplexing part: they were too perfect. Mary’s pregnancy had somehow progressed into its third trimester. The proof was undeniable; the advanced stage with development, irrefutable.

  I have to gather the team. We’ve got to talk about Mary, she thought.

  Deborah left her lab
, head down, pondering Mary’s advanced pregnancy. Dr. Hiroshi Yamato, “Hiro” to his friends, bolted from his lab into the hallway and saw Deborah. He came toward her, running and shouting her name, waving papers—behavior uncharacteristic for Hiro.

  “Deborah, wait!” he shouted.

  She snapped out of her mental fog, stopped, and looked at him. She’d never seen Hiro so animated. His expression wasn’t joy, though, but anxiety. She wondered if he’d found something wrong with Mary’s lab results.

  “Deborah, you need to see my analysis. The results are incredible,” Hiro said, winded, gesturing his papers.

  “Hiro, are you all right? What’s wrong?

  “Oh no, no. Well, maybe. I’m not sure what to think. Here, look for yourself.” He thrust his papers at her. “There’s an inexplicable glitch in Mary’s test results.”

  Hiro’s insistence of a “mysterious glitch” felt heart stopping to Deborah. She took his papers, and her hands became unsteady as she read. She looked up at Hiro, feeling the shock to her system.

  “This can’t be true, Hiro. This can’t be correct. You need to check this again, and then do it again.”

  “Believe me, Deborah, I’ve already run the tests six times—with the same results each time. Patient 0102’s baby has twenty-four chromosome pairs, not our normal twenty-three.”

  *

  News of Dr. Yamato’s discovery spread fast. Despite Deborah’s complaints, Abram ordered Dr. Bruner to halt any further research or experiments and to refocus the projects efforts on Mary. Compassion toward the few remaining unfortunate girls fell to the wayside. Abram termed them “failed incubators,” as though they were discarded experiments.

  Troubled with the project’s dramatic change in direction, Deborah spent her weekend off in a secluded location, struggling with a decision. Late into the night, tucked in bed, she opened one of Charles leather-bound journals for the first time.

  Charles had entrusted her with his notes and journals before he’d disappeared and asked her to secure them away from GEM-Tech, as if he’d had a premonition. He knew Abram or Dr. Bruner would come for them, and they eventually had, ransacking his office. Had they done the same to his house and then put everything back in order? Who knew …

  Deborah hadn’t a reason to look at the journals before, but now, with all that was happening, she knew she had to see if Charles had been on to something, so she read as quickly as she could to take it all in. Alarmed by what she was reading, she sat upright in bed. Abram had ordered the bodies of deceased surrogates and their deformed babies destroyed in the company’s furnace. “Medical waste, and legal if ever it comes to light,” read one of his chilling memos.

  Horrified by the memo’s revelation, she laid the journal aside. Abram had shown his evil nature. Dr. Bruner said he’d released the girls from the project and sent them home, but they’d never left the complex.

  She lay down, pulled the blankets close, and curled up, like a little girl. She thought about a remark Charles made over a delightful dinner at his home: “Everyone believes or has faith in something or someone, be it God, the Devil, all the way to space aliens, et cetera. Based on those beliefs, life’s right or wrong choices originate. Heaven or hell is an eternal choice none can avoid. Choose wisely.”

  In hindsight, she wished she’d chosen to stay in New York. Her life would’ve taken a different path, a simpler one, and marriage perhaps, but her selfish ambitions had chosen career over love.

  She pulled the warm blankets tighter, envisioning those deceased young girls and their babies cremated in a furnace. She hoped sleep would overtake her soon and rescue her.

  Abram had deceived everyone involved with Project Phoenix. Research and development for cures of disease at the DNA and embryonic levels was a lie, a cover. Clearly, Project Phoenix’s primary purpose was to develop Mary’s baby and Abram’s true purpose.

  Deborah grappled with her painful remorse, knowing she’d aided in the deaths of so many young girls. Project Phoenix had indeed affected her; it had become an acid and was eating away any remaining conscience, pulling her soul into an inescapable abyss.

  With sleep tugging at her eyelids, she lay quiet, pondering her two options: stay, or get out of the project.

  Have I gone too far to leave now? she wondered.

  *

  Two weeks had passed and Mary—Patient 0102—was now the lone survivor of Project Phoenix. Abram Solomon had concluded his business with the remaining girls. The crushing guilt of knowing how he’d dealt with the other girls was, at times, unbearable for Deborah. The girls’ deaths forced her to face the truth that she had indeed gone too far.

  Abram’s monstrous actions sealed her decision; she would leave and sever her ties with Abram Solomon, and GEM-Tech, after she’d completed one last obligation: Mary. That young woman carried in her womb an object of genetic manipulation that had taken years of preparation.

  Late in the afternoon, Deborah decided to ask Mary if she wanted to take a walk in the fresh air above ground later on. She felt the exercise would be good for both Mary and the baby.

  “Hello, Mary. How are you feeling today?”

  Mary lay curled on her side as Deborah entered the room. She rolled over on her back, grinning.

  “Hey, Doc. I’m fine, I guess,” she said, pouting a bit, her voice subdued.

  “That’s good to hear. Say, I’ve a question. The weather is gorgeous and the exercise would be good for you and the baby. How about you and I take a walk in the gardens this afternoon, before I leave for the day?”

  Mary looked up and smiled. Her dreary mood faded fast. “Wow, that would be so cool, Deborah. You won’t forget, will ya?”

  Deborah laughed at Mary’s amusing expressions. “No, Mary. I won’t forget, I promise. Get some rest.”

  Deborah started to leave, but Mary reached out and grabbed for her hand.

  “Deborah, there’s one test after another. I’ve had it! I’m not a hunk of meat. Can’t you get those pigs to give it a break? They’re sucking blood out of me like a vampire. This baby is kicking my ass from the inside out. Please, Deborah, give me something? I’m in pain here.”

  Mary’s habitual solution to any stress or pain in her life seemed to be narcotics. Deborah couldn’t and wouldn’t give into her pleas.

  “Mary, I understand you’re scared, but I can’t give you the drugs you want. You’ve been cooperative and …” She paused and smiled. “Well, let’s say for the most part.”

  They both grinned, knowing she’d been a brat.

  “You’re a special girl, Mary, and your baby is our brightest hope. Someday you’ll be famous for your bravery and courage. I want—”

  “Ahhhhh!” Mary cried out.

  Deborah gasped, shocked by what she was witnessing. She backed away from Mary’s bed; her legs felt stilted. A literal physical transformation was altering the young girl’s features.

  Mary’s head turned slowly and faced Deborah; her lifeless pupils had dilated into black orbs, as if some menacing spirit had slipped into her young body. In an instant, Mary’s childish face vanished. Her appearance contorted, as if she’d put on a grotesque Halloween mask. Deborah had never seen anything like it, and she felt powerless watching the strange transformation. She wasn’t hallucinating.

  Then Mary’s lips moved. What spoke, though, wasn’t a young woman, but a harsh and raspy baritone voice: “Woman, I see your spirit. You’re trouble, and a bothersome inconvenience, a festering scab. I’ll deal with you as I did with your friend Charles. This girl is my business, not yours. Now … Get! Out! Hag! And leave us alone,” it shouted.

  “Mary!” Deborah screamed.

  And then the malevolent transformation vanished as instantaneously as it had appeared.

  “Why are you screaming at me, Doc? I can hear you fine. Hey, are you okay there, Doc? You’re pale as white bread.”

  Deborah forced a smile, not knowing what to say. She’d never encountered such a physical change in her life. As a d
octor, she knew Mary’s hideous transformation was a medical impossibility. Could it be, she wondered, that what Charles believed in was true, that sinister forces around Project Phoenix were at work and beyond anyone’s control?

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m okay, Mary. I didn’t mean to shout,” Deborah said, hearing her own shaky voice.

  She grasped at fleeting thoughts for an answer, any answer, for what she’d just seen. Her other team members had been wrong about Charles. He wasn’t delusional or a religious zealot, as they’d suggested. Now his dire warnings spoke to her.

  Deborah walked around the end of Mary’s bed and headed for the door, struggling to keep her composure. She wanted out of that room, and fast. What she’d seen wasn’t the Mary she’d known. Her merciful excuse to leave appeared: Nurse Thompson, as round as she was tall, stepped halfway into the doorway.

  “Dr. Holland, excuse me, Dr. Bruner would like to speak with you right away. He said it was about Dr. Yamato’s findings.”

  Deborah smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Beverly. Tell him I’m finishing up here. I won’t be long.”

  “I’ll wait and walk with you, Doctor. You need to see these new lab reports.”

  Deborah noticed the nurse’s concern. “Okay, thanks.” Deborah turned to face Mary with her best effort face.“Mary, you have any other questions or requests?”

  “Well, just one. How much longer do ya think I have before this baby shows up, Doc?”

  “Well, given your phenomenal advanced gestation, within a few days, I’d say, or sooner. Babies, in my experience, have their own way of saying when its time. They won’t listen to doctors. My late mother used to say, ‘It’s the Lord God who made them that knows for sure.’”

  The moment Deborah said the words “Lord God,” she felt a noticeable chilling effect in the room’s air temperature. Deborah even saw her breath as she exhaled. The manifestation … It’s back.

  Nurse Thompson, still waiting by the door, apparently also saw the phenomenon. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Mary’s appearance changed once more, and the raspy deep voice spoke again through her: “Are you deaf, you stinking harlot? What makes you think your impudent God has anything to do with this child? He’s mine, you meddling whore. Now, for the last time—get out! Leave us alone!”