The Arrival

by J W Brazier

  Ian sat there, speechless, unable to respond. He struggled to hold back tears.

  “Ian, we’ve discussed before my love for pediatric oncology and to find cures for children’s diseases. You know I chose to continue that work with our old employer, Abram Solomon, through his new company, GEM-Tech. In making that decision, I’d hoped through the company’s work in genetic research my work would continue.”

  Growing impatient, Ian listened, still reeling. “Charles, yes, you’ve told me all this before. You’re rambling.”

  Charles adjusted his bed. “Yes, and you’re right of course. I’m sorry.” He took a breath and started again. “Years ago, I jumped at the chance when Abram initiated a project named ‘Phoenix.’ We used cutting-edge technologies found nowhere else in the world. Our enthusiasm to find cures justified our research. Everyone involved ignored the warning signs, numbing our conscience, like a daily dose of morphine. Now … Now my soul is forever scarred by that experience. May God forgive me.”

  Ian had never known Charles to speak with such a degree of emotional regret and fear. He braced for more bad news.

  “For three long, agonizing years, five separate teams of scientists, all specialists in their fields, worked in secret. We tested our DNA research and theories on over a hundred young teenage girls. All were of childbearing age, sixteen to nineteen years old. Dr. Bruner’s team impregnated each girl using a new enhanced in vitro technique.”

  Ian let his mouth fall ajar as the stark revelations kept coming.

  “Ian, before I left, every girl and their offspring had died … except for Mary, Patient 0102. It’s her baby that’s given me nightmares. She’ll deliver it soon.”

  Ian shook his head, not believing that Charles could have been a part of such barbarism.

  “I’m convinced that what we brought back from Palestine guaranteed the success of Project Phoenix. It’s why Abram wanted that specific Jew. I prayed to God that I was wrong, but the undeniable proof is Patient 0102 and what she’ll soon deliver. A member of my team, Deborah Holland, is a friend and colleague. She’ll confirm all that I’ve said. You need to find her and speak with her. I didn’t dare try to contact her, as GEM-Tech will likely be watching her closely. It was probably a risk enough to call you. But if I’m right, we’ve got to sound the warning that the apocalypse is about to engulf all of mankind.”

  Ian rubbed his temples and sighed a long breath. “Good grief, Charles, you don’t play around with trouble: you pour the gasoline and strike the match. Apocalypse … and Abram experimenting on humans and their embryos … That’s—It’s evil, immoral, and illegal.”

  Charles could only nod. “I’ve several packages in the bed stand drawer. Would you hand them to me, please?”

  Ian turned and reached into the drawer, pulled out two thick manila folders, and laid them in Charles’s lap.

  Charles patted the top folder. “These folders contain copied proof of what I’m saying. Deborah’s seen them and has copies. I’ve encouraged her to make copies of her own work. Research documents, my notes, they’re all here—the sum total of Project Phoenix. I’ve included audiotapes explaining everything in explicit detail.” He moved the bottom folder to the top.

  “In this second folder, I’ve included my letters to you. The ones I never sent. I meant to send them, honest, but time slipped away and then work got in my way. Writing was my method of talking with you, even though you weren’t there. So I wrote and wrote.”

  Ian swallowed hard to hold back the tears he felt coming.

  “I have no living relatives, Ian, and you’re the one person I trust. I consider you the brother I never had. You’re my best friend, and you’ve remained by my side these many years. I’ve left you the sole heir of my estate. I’ve already signed the documents prepared by my lawyer.”

  Ian wanted to protest. His friend’s wishes had a tone of finality. Charles seemed too quick to give in without a fight.

  “Read these folders and you’ll understand Abram Solomon’s sinister intentions. Be careful, because he’s asked about your whereabouts. I wouldn’t tell them, of course, but beware. The same evil that attacked my health and has kept me in this hospital will come after you, my friend. So pick your allies with great care. You’ll find in Deborah Holland someone that can be trusted. She’ll help you. Remember, find her and speak with her as soon as you can.”

  Ian’s thoughts swirled with Charles’s information overload. Ian, though, was more concerned with losing his friend. He stood and walked to the window. The miserable rain hadn’t let up, and the gray sky made everything seem gloomy and dark. The mood in the room wasn’t much better. His friend was dying. How much worse could this day get?

  “Charles, you’re the family I’ve never had. Our friendship is as close as any blood relative. I love you, Charles. I’ll miss you.”

  Nodding, Charles struggled to contain his emotions. “I feel the same, Ian. Now come closer and tell me about your latest adventures and excavations. If I know anything at all about you, we’ve a lot to cover.”

  Ian grinned, sniffling and wiping away tears. “Charles, you’re always jumping at the chance to give me orders.”

  “I had a good teacher.”

  They burst into laughter.

  “Ian, I’m about to explode here waiting to hear your story. Please, tell me how you’ve stayed looking much younger for a man of your age.”

  Ian came and sat on the end of the bed and leaned in closer. “Charles, think back on a particular conversation during our ocean voyage from Palestine to New York—and the items I bought from Nassir.”

  Charles leaned forward and his eyes grew big. “Oh no. No, you can’t be serious! I’d always wondered about Nassir’s story and thought it another one of your tall tales. You mean Nassir’s story is true? Those items are genuine, and the power is real?”

  “Oh, yes, they’re genuine and so is the power. Look at me. I’m living proof.”

  Charles looked at Ian with an inquisitive stare and then smiled. “You being here today means two things: an answer to prayer … and you’ve changed.”

  Ian took his friend’s hand. “Yes on both counts, thanks to you in 1967 during the Arab-Israeli war.” He reached under his shirt and pulled the source of his good fortune from around his neck. “I want you to have this, Charles. I had it made special. Evil can’t stay in its presence, and it has the power to heal.”

  Charles looked at Ian’s piece and started to reach out to touch it, but stopped and withdrew his hand. “No, I can’t. It’s too late for me. I’m ready and at peace. He has a plan, and an appointed time and purpose for everyone, something you already know, given your good news. Nothing happens without his knowledge or permission—nothing. The proof is that he’s kept you young—and for a reason. Best of all is the fact that he’s changed you. I’ll be waiting to see you again, Ian Taylor.”

  Chapter 4

  Tired and in a rush, Deborah gathered a pile of reports for her meeting with Abram Solomon and Dr. Bruner. She’d stayed up late into the night reading portions of Charles journals, along with Hiro’s analysis of Mary’s newfound “glitch.” She grabbed Dr. Yamato’s file on the way out the door. A reminder to speak with him later, she wanted more substantiated proof of his claims.

  Between Charles’s journals and Hiro’s revealing information, she now believed that Abram concealed a darker side. Hiro’s discovery alone was immense, but Abram and Dr. Bruner had downplayed its significance. Their reluctance appeared deliberate. She wondered why they’d ignored such a major discovery—unless to them, it wasn’t news.

  Abram’s special team had introduced an unknown genetic material, facilitating the DNA mutation of Mary’s baby. Deborah could think of no other explanation, but how, from where, and why? The abnormality was outside the realms of humanity and science.

  She couldn’t shake off the gnawing guilt that she’d contributed to opening a Pandora’s box on an unsuspecting world. Could the demonic manifestation in Mary’s room
be linked to Dr. Yamato’s discovery? The experience of that demonic manifestation still haunted her.

  Her proof in hand, she darted out the lab to confront Abram. She wanted one specific question answered: Who was his mystery donor for the in vitro fertilization of Mary? When the elevator doors slid open, she marched to Bruner’s office, paused at his door, collected her composure, and knocked.

  “Come in, Deborah,” the doctor’s heavy German accent said from behind the mahogany door.

  Deborah took a deep breath and entered his cluttered office. Seated across from Dr. Burner’s desk, Abram stood at once to greet her. In the time it took for Abram to cross the space with his hand outstretched, a disturbing thought crossed Deborah’s mind: It’s not possible, she reasoned. She tried to appear inconspicuous as she scrutinized Abram’s ageless features in a new light, with a new purpose. In that moment, she remembered a passage from Charles’s journal: how excited he had been that Abram had hired him to represent Solomon Industries on Ian Taylor’s expedition to Palestine. Charles had also once shown her thirty-year-old photographs of Abram and Charles together. Nothing in what she’d seen or read fit. Abram showed no signs of aging. Charles was right to be suspicious.

  Abram’s skin looked taut and youthful—maybe late forties, early fifties, she guessed. Not a wrinkle, not even crow’s-feet around his eyes. His thick, pitch-black hair showed no signs of premature graying, except for a few small strands at each temple. His physique looked lean and strong, the picture of health.

  Now she noticed Abram’s expression had altered, perhaps aware of her scrutiny. She imagined the glint in his dark eyes to be probing her soul, to satisfy that curiosity. Stay calm, she thought.

  “Deborah, my dear,” Abram said. “It’s a pleasure to meet with you again.”

  The two met center room and shook hands.

  “Mr. Solomon, it’s been awhile, sir.”

  The lifeless flesh of his hand on hers felt unsettling as she returned his firm grip.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so, my dear. I profess, I’m at fault with my limited time. I’ve too many items on my plate, but enough of me. My good friend here informs me you have fantastic news to share.”

  Dr. Bruner smiled and gestured from behind his desk for her to break the news. She took a seat and Abram did the same.

  “Mr. Solomon, announcing good news might be premature,” Deborah said. “I can say with confidence that the last of our surrogates may prove a breakthrough. Mary and her baby are in excellent health. I’m sure Dr. Bruner’s explained our progress far better than I, so I won’t bore you with medical details.”

  “Yes,” Abram said, “the good doctor has overwhelmed me with medical details. I have no earthly idea to what he’s referring. I’ll need a dictionary.”

  Dr. Bruner and Deborah laughed, knowing that Abram Solomon was far more astute than he led anyone to believe. Abram was a Rhodes Scholar, a masterful facilitator, and CEO of GEM-Tech, and well qualified to understand even the minutest of details. Project Phoenix was his masterful stroke.

  “Pardon my ramblings, Deborah,” Abram said. “Please continue.”

  “Well, sir, without any unforeseen complications, Mary will be in labor soon. I estimate by Monday at the latest. The baby has turned and entered the birth canal. In my examinations this morning, her cervix is dilating, the baby’s heart is strong, no blood or urine abnormalities, and its weight gain good. Sir, if I may ask, I—”

  “Excellent work, Deborah, excellent!” Abram said. “Oh … I apologize for interrupting you. Please continue.”

  She cleared her throat. “I did have a question pertaining to Mary’s donor.”

  Abram’s lips and jaw appeared to tighten.

  “Sir,” she said, “Project Phoenix had reached a stalemate until you, for whatever reason, brought in your special team. You’ve not allowed the other scientists to confer with your select group.”

  Abram looked even more uncomfortable now. “And your point is, Dr. Holland?”

  Deborah crossed her legs and held up her file. “These reports detail a rather baffling discovery by Dr. Yamato after the arrival of your special team. Mary’s baby has twenty-four pairs of chromosomes. This isn’t possible by any means, at least on this earth.”

  At that, Deborah noticed Abram’s eyes narrow.

  She went on. “Your team’s kept their detailed procedures secret on your orders, including the origin of an unknown donor source. That source somehow infused an extra chromosome that altered the embryo’s DNA, shortening Mary’s gestation period—unthinkable with human development.” Deborah paused. “Mr. Solomon, either your team has superior insights, enabling flawless bioengineering unknown to anyone in the world, or else it’s your mysterious donor. We worked years to never achieve what they accomplished in months. If I believed in miracles, I’d have to say that their procedures are nothing short of miraculous.”

  Abram gave a little smile and nodded. “Deborah, of course I’d be happy to instruct my team to share their procedures with Dr. Bruner and the others, but it will simply have to wait. I want the full attention of everyone on staff centered on Mary.”

  Deborah said nothing and waited for more.

  “As for my team,” Abram said, “they came from our lab in Europe. No one knew this, except for Dr. Bruner. Reason: we wanted no contamination of data by the two research facilities. Now, as to the donor, I can’t violate GEM-Tech policies. I’ll say this, though: the procedure was perhaps as ‘supernatural,’ pardon the pun, as you suggested.”

  Deborah cocked her head at that statement. He’s avoiding my question. He isn’t going to tell us. She just wanted to leave.

  “Deborah,” Abram said, “as much as I’d like to discuss this topic further, I can’t. The specifics surrounding our donor will have to stay a moot point for the time being. As for our focus on Mary, she in particular fit a purposed set of criteria GEM-Tech was looking for, nothing more. I hope I’ve helped answer most of your questions.”

  “Supernatural” wasn’t an answer, but there was no point in her belaboring the topic. Abram wasn’t about to give an answer, or share anything of value now, if ever.

  “Very well, sir. Dr. Bruner, Mr. Solomon, if there’s nothing further, please excuse me, gentlemen. I need to return to my work.”

  “Of course, Deborah,” Abram said. “I understand, and since we’re this close, as you say, I’ll be available. I plan to stay for the birth, so please keep me informed at the slightest change. I imagine I’m acting like an expectant father.”

  “That’s understandable, sir. I imagined you would be.” Deborah stood to leave. “Mr. Solomon, Dr. Bruner, I’ve nothing more. I’ll meet again with both of you, if all goes well, Monday morning.” Deborah extended her arm for a departure handshake.

  Bruner and Abram both rose.

  “I’m excited, Deborah, so we’ll see you again Monday. Have a good weekend,” Abram said as he shook her hand.

  She left Dr. Bruner’s office disappointed. The meeting had wasted her time, and her questions had gone unanswered. Abram’s statements confirmed that Project Phoenix couldn’t pass the smell test. It was what Abram hadn’t said and had avoided that she found so troubling. His secrecy presented motives of a malicious and darker undertone.

  *

  Abram waited for Dr. Holland to leave the room before saying anything to Dr. Bruner. She’s hiding copies of the project, Abram mused, and she’s read Dr. Wagner’s journals. He heard the door latch close. Without wasting a moment, Abram dropped his pleasantries, turned, and faced Bruner. He slit his eyes at Dr. Bruner, forcing the old German to sit down. Abram crossed the room and leaned across the doctor’s desk.

  “Dr. Holland is correct. He arrives Monday, at five in the afternoon. Start extracting the mother’s milk. He’ll need the correct balance of nutrients for his first few days.” Abram paused, noticing Dr. Bruner’s questioning stare. “If you have a question, Doctor, ask.”

  “No questions, Mr. Solomon, just simple ob
servational thoughts of an old man. I’m reminded of what Dr. Holland discovered and what we’ve accomplished because of the DNA’s origin. You’ve known this, from the beginning?”

  Abram leaned forward, his stare melting the timid Dr. Bruner back into his chair. “Yes, Doctor, I have, but then so have you—before you joined my project?”

  Dr. Bruner cowered farther into his chair. “Yes, Abram, I have.”

  “Indeed you have, Doctor, and the one to whom you’ve committed your allegiance—unless you’re having second thoughts? I’ll be happy to convey to him your hesitancy.”

  Dr. Bruner’s eyes went wide. “Oh … Uh, no, no, that’s not necessary. I’ve no regrets or second thoughts, Abram.”

  “Good, Doctor, I believed not. Now, if you want to live, pay close attention. After his birth, be prepared to leave this complex. I’ve arranged our immediate transportation. We’re on a precise timetable. I won’t wait one second longer. This entire complex will meet complete and utter destruction. The ashes will be indistinguishable.”

  Dr. Bruner’s mouth fell open at that. “What … What about the other scientists … the doctors and nursing staff? You mean no one will survive?”

  “You will, Doctor, if you follow my instructions. Listen and pay close attention to my plans. Follow them to the letter; otherwise, you’ll be part of those ashes. I still have need of you.”

  *

  Late Monday afternoon, Mary lay on her back looking up at Deborah and Nurse Thompson. A glass thermometer protruded from one side of her mouth. Mary struggled to mumble her question past the bothersome object. The nurse smiled and ignored her protests and continued with her work. Irritated with Nurse Thompson, Mary plucked the thermometer out of her mouth.

  “So how am I doing, Doc?”

  “Mary, you’re in perfect health. Are you handling the labor pain okay?”

  “Not so good, Doc. My back’s killing me. The labor pains hurt like hell. I’m a ripe watermelon ready to split. One more thump on my plump belly should do it. Can’t you give me something for the pain? You know what I mean, Doc, just a little touch of something. Look here, I’ve got a plump vein. It’s my favorite.” Mary pointed to her right arm.