Wake the Dead

by Victoria Buck

  “A week and a day ‘til I tell Larin he’ll get a new kidney. But I don’t know if I’ll have the prize ready.”

  “Boss, are you talking to yourself again?”

  Chase opened his eyes to find his assistant standing in the doorway. “Mel, how many times have I told you to stop calling me boss?”

  “Stop calling me Mel and maybe I will.”

  He smiled, and Melody smiled in return. She came into the small room and began straightening items on the desktop. “You got a call from some doctor,” she said.

  “Dr. Fiender?” Chase leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees as Mel shuffled some papers. “Don’t throw those out.”

  “Yeah, that was his name.” She sat on the edge of the desk. “You know I’m not going to throw out anything important. What are you doing with all this? If we get caught using so much paper, we’ll get fined.”

  “They’re printouts from Kerstin. I have to look into some things for her.”

  “Why didn’t she just send it to your VPad?” Mel folded the pages together, held them over the wastebasket next to the desk, and dropped them in.

  “Mel…Melody, I told you—”

  “They’re filed right here, boss, where you can find them.” She dropped to the desk chair and folded her hands on her lap. “What sort of doctor is he? You sick?”

  “No, he’s a scientist I met a few weeks ago.”

  “Why’s he calling you?”

  “He wants to talk to me about the show.” Chase rubbed his hands together. “I think he can help with Larin.”

  “I don’t like that look in your eyes.” Mel crossed her arms. “What are you planning?”

  He smiled at the way she studied him. Black curls framed her face. She looked like a kid, but she was one smart woman. And she was always on his side.

  “I’m just looking into some possibilities,” he said. “I was going to tell Kerstin about it. Then we got into the whole mess with Elaine Jenz, and I decided I’d better wait. Now we have a contestant who needs a transplant. It’s like it was meant to be.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but you know you’re not going to do anything without the queen’s approval.”

  “If Kerstin heard you say that, she’d have your backside on the street. Then what would I do?”

  “You’d get your own coffee and file your own papers.” She motioned to the wastebasket. “Seriously, what’s this science man got up his sleeve? You do something behind Kerstin’s back, she’ll put you out on the street.”

  “Says he can make body parts out of nothing. Parts that won’t wear out. We could get Larin a kidney. Remember the last time we tried a transplant? We got a genetically altered liver grown in a pig. It was a disaster. Took three months for the ratings to recover.”

  “Boss, that poor man died. And nobody makes something out of nothing. Nobody but God.”

  “If God can do it, then it can be done.”

  “Don’t go comparing some witchdoctor to God.” She turned in the chair and gently touched the ceramic bobble-head figure on Chase’s desk. “You don’t want to mess with the man upstairs any more than you have already.”

  “Mel, are you still worried about that thing? I told you, there’s nothing wrong with a bobble-head Jesus. It’s just a souvenir.”

  “It’s a joke,” she said. “Something the devil would keep on his desk. A little harmless, do-nothin’ Jesus.”

  She was a religious girl. Chase wasn’t sure if anyone else at SynVue knew this. People didn’t talk about such things. What Mel did in her private life didn’t bother him, and he didn’t want to offend her.

  Nor did he care to hear another insinuation that he was some horned beast from the underworld.

  “If it bothers you, throw it out. It’s just something I picked up in the EU. I thought it would be funny, you know, since I change people’s lives.”

  Mel shook her head. Silver earrings dangled against her brown skin. “Not funny.” She picked up the bobble-head, but her confident expression was gone.

  Chase laughed. “You can’t do it, can you? You can’t throw it out.”

  “Well…” She looked at the little figure’s quivering head and then at Chase. “He does look kinda like Jesus, I guess. How can I put him in the trash?”

  “You need to let go of the old ways, Mel. You’re so intelligent. Wise beyond your years. Why do you believe that stuff? It’s not like you’re in the Underground Church or anything. Are you?”

  “I wouldn’t be here working for you if I was. Wise beyond my years, huh?” She set down the bobble-head, stood, and headed for the door. “Well, you’re just a wise guy.” She flashed him a sly grin, and she was gone.

  Chase remembered why she’d come—the call from Dr. Fiender. He fished his VPad from the pile of clothes on top of a wooden trunk. Dr. Fiender’s message popped up. Chase ran his finger across the numbers highlighted within the text and touched the real-view option on the small screen. He put the VPad in a stand on his desk. The doctor’s image appeared in the room, and Chase leaned forward and smiled.

  “Good day, Mr. Sterling. You’re a hard man to reach.”

  “My apologies, Dr. Fiender. The life of a celebrity…”

  The doctor grunted and wiped a finger across his gray mustache. “I understand you’ve had some problems with a past winner. I thought you might have come to the conclusion that I could be of service in the matter of Elaine Jenz.”

  “No, that didn’t occur to me. We talked about body parts. I have a new contestant who needs a kidney, but I don’t know how you could help Elaine. She had a breakdown.”

  “Meet with me, Mr. Sterling. Come to my facility.”

  “Where?”

  “South of Phoenix, near the town of Florence. I could send my jet. You’d be here in thirty minutes.”

  “You have a Globejet?” Chase lifted his hand to his forehead and then wiped the sudden emergence of perspiration from his top lip.

  “How else could you get from Chicago to the Southwest Territory so quickly?”

  “Why me? Why not one of the execs from SynVue?”

  “Because, Mr. Sterling, people call you the most influential man in the Western Republic. And I need an influential man.”

  Chase drew a breath and straightened his shoulders. “I’d have to be back tonight.”

  “Be at BHO International in one hour. My associate will meet you at the information counter at Terminal 44.”

  “Can you help with the kidney?”

  “I’ll send one back with you.”

  “Should I bring a cooler?”

  The doctor lifted his brow and grinned. “No cooler needed.”

  4

  Chase held to the armrests of the padded seat. The other seven seats in the Globejet were empty. A curvaceous blonde flight attendant stood near the door to the cockpit. No sign of a pilot.

  Chase wasn’t a good flyer. He wasn’t afraid of heights. Falling, however, was a different fear altogether. And speed. Going 140 on the city tram was bad enough. This was unbelievable. He dug his nails into the plump upholstery.

  “Sir, we’ll be landing in four minutes.” The blonde moved toward him. She took the glass of melting ice and folded the tray upright. Chase kept his eyes on her elegant stride until she disappeared behind a partition.

  It was a long four minutes.

  The jet landed smoothly, and the blonde reappeared and bid a pleasant good-bye as Chase exited. Still no pilot.

  Florence Jetport was small, with one long runway next to several shorter ones. An unmanned motorized cart carried Chase to the terminal building where Dr. Robert Fiender’s driver waited.

  The ride in the black limo gave Chase time to recuperate. His muscles, his mind, everything in him still soared. But the soft black leather warmed and massaged his thighs and back. The big electric vehicle made little sound, but when he closed his eyes, he heard the roar of the audience. Giving up on rest, he looked out the window at the wide, empty des
ert.

  Could Fiender really change the way the show operated? Technology had given Chase the opportunity to bless so many. Barren couples and same-sex couples were given children genetically related to both parents. In one case, the baby was created from four parents. Paraplegics walked. The blind regained their sight. Widespread organ failure due to environmental toxins was dealt with regularly at Change Your Life. But donors were getting harder and harder to find. Poor people died with poisoned parts. Rich people outlived those awaiting transplants. And xenotransplantation was just plain unreliable. Lab-grown organs had been failing for twenty years.

  That’s why this scientist’s claims intrigued Chase.

  An iron gate swung open at the entrance to Dr. Fiender’s facility. A fence, maybe ten feet high, surrounded the small compound. Four buildings, none too impressive, stood in the fenced area.

  Dr. Fiender met Chase at the door of the two-story brick structure to the left of the paved driveway. A small man, he appeared to be in his late sixties. The doctor’s wild gray hair and prominent nose were classic Einstein.

  But Einstein never made a kidney.

  “Dr. Fiender. Good to see you again.” Chase shook the doctor’s hand firmly.

  “Yes, yes. Welcome. Come in and see what we’ve done here at the Helgen Institute.”

  “Named after Naomi Helgen? Did she work here? I thought her laboratory was somewhere in the EU.” Chase took in the small lobby as he spoke. Southwest décor seemed at odds with framed posters of what appeared to be body parts covered with binary code.

  “You know of her?” Dr. Fiender’s bushy eyebrows went up. “Well, of course you do. She was the greatest scientist of our time.” He walked toward a glass door. “She did her work overseas. She was a Brit, you know. Never came to the Americas.”

  “So, you named this place after her because of her renown? Understandable—she did cure cancer.”

  “Her research in synthetic antigens gave us our vaccine, yes. But her subsequent work is what I hope to complete. She swore me to the cause.”

  “You knew her well?” Chase said.

  “I was her pupil. And her lover.”

  Chase stopped walking.

  The doctor turned and smiled. “Don’t be surprised. Everyone needs love.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I’m…” Chase moved forward, and the doctor waved his hand in front of a small screen. The glass door slid open. “How did she die? Some sort of accident, wasn’t it?”

  “No accident. She was silenced. I moved her laboratory to this location, away from the probing leadership of the EU.”

  “Somebody killed her? Who?” Chase stumbled over an upholstered chair then fell into it as the doctor took his seat behind a massive oak desk.

  “Not important. Not anymore.”

  “Someone killed Naomi Helgen. Now they’re not important?”

  “Relax, young man. Certain people helped us move our operations to the WR. And now they protect us.”

  “Us?”

  “Myself and a few other scientists. Certainly you don’t think I could do all this alone.”

  Chase leaned forward. “All what?”

  Dr. Fiender let out a laugh. “Come and I’ll show you.”

  “Why me?”

  “I told you, because of your influence. Because I want to change the world, and you want to change lives. We are of one mind.”

  “I doubt that.” Chase stood and walked to a window. The desert spread out beyond the iron fence. “I’m starting to realize I don’t have any idea what you have in mind.”

  “I can help you with your little show. I’ll pay SynVue to supply me with hopeless, helpless individuals. And you will present to the world a new kind of winner.”

  “I didn’t know you were a student of Dr. Helgen.” Chase turned to look at the doctor. “My contestants are not guinea pigs.”

  “Why the sudden resistance?”

  “Murder? Government involvement?” Chase returned to his chair. “I know a little about what Dr. Helgen did. She was a proponent of the transhumanist movement.”

  Dr. Fiender leaned back in his leather chair. “I have a kidney for you.”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t get it from a cadaver.”

  “I made it, covered it with manufactured, universally accepted tissue, vacuum sealed it, and…” He put his hands on the desk. “Where did I put it?” He looked to the shelves and cabinets to his left, then down to his big white coat. “Oh, yes.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small fleshy blob tightly wrapped in plastic, and tossed it on the desk.

  Chase got up and backed away. “Won’t it…rot? You carry it around in your pocket then put in someone’s body?”

  “It’s not going to rot. And it won’t be rejected by your contestant’s body. Carry it back with you, and give it to your surgeons.”

  “Would my contestant be the first to receive one of your homemade parts?”

  “I have a few homemade parts myself. As do some of my colleagues. If it makes you feel any better, we tested the product on ourselves.”

  “What else have you got in your pocket?”

  The doctor stood and walked toward the glass door, waved his hand, and stepped into the hallway of the Helgen Institute. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

  5

  The next morning Chase eased to the sofa in his dressing room and lowered his travel bag onto the floor. He stared at the bag that held a kidney he’d brought back from the desert. Now what was he supposed to do with it? Fiender told him to give it to the surgeons. Chase pulled out his VPad.

  “Mel, I need you.”

  “Be right there, boss.”

  He left a message for the medical coordinator. As he stood, he inadvertently kicked the travel bag across the floor.

  “Geez.” He reached for the bag. “Idiot.” He tugged the zipper and spread the bag open to peer inside. The kidney remained nestled between a spare shirt and a green folder. It looked fine, he guessed. He pulled out the folder, zipped the bag shut, and set it on the coffee table.

  Chase opened the folder and flipped through the handwritten pages. A few computer generated sheets were attached, some containing visual aids. A do-it-yourself guide to kidney transplants. How odd to manufacture a human organ and then send it off with a thrown-together manual. The doctor could watch the surgery live on a GrapheVision, if he wanted to, and instruct the surgeons himself.

  Mel came into the room and handed Chase a cup of coffee. “What’d you find out? You get a kidney for Larin?”

  Chase reached into his bag and pulled out the shrink-wrapped organ. He held it up, looked at Mel, and raised his eyebrows.

  She put her hand over her mouth and backed away. “Oh, Great Lord Almighty, please don’t let that be what I think it is.”

  “Great doctor is more like it. He made this, Mel. He made a kidney. And that’s not all he can make.”

  She sat at the desk and crossed her arms. “Sport to a fool.”

  “Huh?”

  “To do evil is like sport to a fool.”

  “Mel, what on earth are you talking about?”

  “He’s playing a game, boss. That doctor’s competing with the Creator.” She stood and walked closer, bent down, and poked the blob in Chase’s hand. “Fool.” She sat on the sofa, and Chase sat next to her.

  “You want to hold it?” Chase smiled.

  Mel slipped her hands under her thighs. “Maybe you should put it in the fridge.”

  “No need. I could put it in a drawer if I wanted to and keep it there ’til we need it.”

  “I’m not going near your desk if that thing is in it.”

  “Don’t worry. I already sent a message to the med team. I said you’d deliver it to the estate this morning.”

  “I just told you I’m not going near it.”

  He lifted the leather bag and dropped the kidney in. “Relax, Mel. It doesn’t bite.” He thrust the bag into her hands.

  “OK, but I am not happy about this.” She st
ood and walked toward the door. “Does somebody have to sign for it?”

  “Give it to Mike. He’ll get it to the surgical team.” He waved her off, and she disappeared, mumbling something about God.

  Maybe he should have held on to the kidney a little longer to show it to Kerstin, but he’d better wait to tell her. He’d make it seem like her idea. She didn’t need to know the manufactured organ she was about to order had already been picked up. She couldn’t accuse him of going behind her back if she was the one to direct him to Dr. Fiender.

  He picked up his VPad and spoke another message: “Mike, don’t tell Kerstin about this. You know how she is. We’ll let her take the credit.” Then he sent it as type.

  He wasn’t worried about Mel letting out the secret. She avoided Kerstin as much as possible. He slipped on his blue blazer and straightened his tie. Larin would be here soon to go over plans for the day’s episode. Then the makeup guys would make sure Larin looked sick enough. It’d be hard not to tell him about the kidney.

  One more week ’til prize day. Chase had better start working on Kerstin. He left his dressing room and headed for her office suite.

  Interruptions persisted as he thought over what he would tell Kerstin. First an intern giving a tour of the studio spotted him. It wasn’t unusual for Chase to encounter audience members who’d won a tour. Fifteen fans were in this group.

  “Oh, Chase, I can’t believe I’m shaking your hand.” A lovely young woman gushed over him. She didn’t look sick or poor, and she certainly wasn’t in need of a makeover.

  “Welcome. I hope you enjoy today’s show.” Chase moved to the next outstretched hand, forced a smile, and rushed away.

  Then a director stopped him for a brief go-over of the show to air live that night. The muscles in Chase’s legs bounced like springs. At last, the director stopped his rambling, and Chase launched into the east hallway.

  He dashed to the private elevator that would take him up to Kerstin’s domain and waved his hand before the glowing green panel next to the door. Staring at the lighted panel, his mind raced. Something was wrong. His heart suddenly tried to climb out of his ribcage.