The Forgotten Eden

by Aiden James

  Dr. Mensch smiled and nodded as if reading his thoughts.

  “This beautiful girl told me to tell the young gentleman for whom her message was expressly intended, that she misses him terribly...that she needs him,” he said. “She will do anything that’s necessary to once again play a major role in his life. Surely you already know this message is for you, Jack!”

  A bead of sweat formed along Jack’s hairline, and as his heart raced and his palms grew clammy, he thought for sure he would pass out and join the professor as a patient in the very same hospital.

  “So, she is real! I see it written all over your face. This ‘Genovene’ is real after all!”

  Dr. Mensch eyed Jack intently again as he waited for him to confirm this statement. Jack felt a strong urge to do just that, in such a way that would warn the professor about the deceitful nature of Genovene. But when he tried to speak, he couldn’t. The mere shock of what he’d just been told left his tongue thick and heavy, while his throat closed to where he could only cough nervously.

  “Do you need a drink of something?” the professor offered. “I certainly didn’t wish to upset you with this information. I suppose you’ve enjoyed an intimate relationship of some sort with her, based on your reaction. She’s definitely—how do you say down here in the south? Ah, yes. She’s definitely quite a peach, eh?”

  Jack continued to cough and struggle to catch his breath, and he allowed the professor to give him a drink from a glass of water sitting on his nightstand.

  “Perhaps you’re upset at the news I may not be here among the living much longer. Is that it?”

  As partly correct, Jack nodded.

  “I’ve lived a good life, which for the most part is without regrets. Whatever I would’ve looked forward to exploring during my final years on earth would likely be prevented anyway. Can you imagine what those who did this to me would do if presented another opportunity?”

  He lifted his trembling hands to point at his face once more.

  “But why fret? Genovene has promised to make it worth my while to leave early. She has even gone so far as to assure me that my research will not be lost or forgotten. And, now you have the necessary keys, just as she told me you did. Jack, you are the one who will finish my work.”

  The professor paused again, casting a wary glance behind Jack, which made him look over his shoulder as well. As far as he could tell, no one else listened nearby. The only distraction he could detect was the on-duty nurses’ footsteps echoing in the hallway as they made their evening rounds several doors away from Dr. Mensch’s room.

  “It’s time for you to go, my young friend,” said the professor. “Remember what I’ve told you and don’t forget the address, ‘1016 South Queens Court’.”

  “I won’t forget. I promise,” said Jack, looking back over his shoulder to the empty doorway. What did Dr. Mensch sense that he couldn’t? It made him uneasy, but he didn’t want to further upset this man whom he so admired. “Get some rest, Doc. I’ll be by to see you again real soon—maybe tomorrow.”

  He stood up to leave, smiling down at the professor who raised his hand to wave goodbye.

  “1016 South Queens Court,” Dr. Mensch reminded him.

  “Don’t worry, Doc, I’ve got it,” said Jack. He delivered a grin and wink he thought would even make his grandfather proud, and turned to leave the room. “1016 South Queens Court,” he whispered to himself as he walked through the doorway and down the hallway past the nurse’s station, on his way to the elevator....

  ***

  Jack shook himself from the trance, shocked to find his left hand bleeding. The skeleton key’s sharp point had pierced the skin on his palm, held fast by his tenacious grip. He grabbed an old handkerchief from the truck’s glove compartment, when the only alternatives were the map or his T-shirt. Jeremy opened the driver’s side door and climbed back into the truck just as Jack finished wrapping his hand.

  “What in the hell happened to you?” Jeremy asked lightheartedly, but with a look that let Jack know he was concerned about the injury. He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “Man, I tell you, little brother. I can’t leave you alone for long, can I? You’ve got a knack for finding your way into mischief, one way of another—that’s for goddamned sure!”

  He smiled and gave Jack a hearty slap on the shoulder before turning his attention to the road, ready to resume their journey north on I-81.

  “It’ll be all right,” said Jack. “Is Grandpa okay? What did he have to say about our situation?”

  “Well, he’s fine.” Jeremy glanced at him and then returned his gaze to the road ahead. “He’s been worried sick, not knowing where we disappeared to and all. As far as our abduction’s concerned, I told him pretty much everything that’s happened so far. And, I told him to keep a good perspective on things when the shit hits the fan later this morning. I figure all we can bank on at this point is that we’ve got a significant head start.”

  “Where are you planning to take us, Jeremy?”

  “Canada,” he replied, and Jack knew he was dead serious. He probably knew their destination the very instant he escaped Bo Cochran’s grasp. “Grandpa and I developed a special code for an occasion such as this long ago.

  “I told him you and I were going to chill out with a couple of bottles of Cuervo Gold before we decided what to do next,” he continued. “That told him we were headed way up north without tipping off anybody who might be listening in on his line, and you’ve got to believe the wiretaps are active at his place these days. It’s the opposite of what they’d expect, since Cuervo Gold comes from Mexico. If I’d told him we planned on sipping a few bottles of Moosehead, he’d have known Mexico was our destination, instead. I’d say it’s pretty cool that after five years we finally got to use the idea. Thank God he hadn’t forgotten it!”

  Jeremy glanced briefly at him again.

  “So, what do you think, Jackie? I realize we’ll have some major challenges getting through the guard patrols along the Canadian border, but we’ll figure out a plan to deal with that shit, I’m sure. Are you ready to hole-up for a while in the real land of ‘sky-blue waters’? Not to mention, I’ll bet we’ll run across some lovely French-speaking darlings if we make it far enough north…. How about it, bro?”

  Jack didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he focused his attention on his throbbing left palm and the three keys he now held in his right hand. He felt his brother look over at him, and the weight of Jeremy’s stare grow heavy. He finally turned to face him.

  “Well?”

  “I think it’s a bad idea, Jeremy, going to Canada. A very bad idea,” he said. “We need to go home. We need to go back to Tuscaloosa, and do it now!”

  “What? Are you on crack??”

  Jeremy pulled the truck over to the shoulder of the highway and slammed on the brakes. A cloud of dust surrounded the vehicle in the pre-dawn light.

  “What in the hell are you thinking??” he demanded furiously.

  The response and look of puzzled horror to go along with it wouldn’t have been any different had Jack said he underwent a recent sex change operation and pulled his pants down to prove it. He knew this. Rather than be drawn into an all-out argument, he simply showed him the keys in his right hand.

  “So?” said Jeremy. “What the fuck do those have to do with anything?”

  “They belonged to Oscar.”

  “What?? Where in the hell did you get them from?”

  “From him,” Jack explained. “He gave them to me the night he died. Actually, that’s not exactly true, as I originally got them when I found him lying on his living room floor. When I tried to give them back to him in the hospital, he made me keep them. They go to an address near school, and he told me I needed to finish something he was working on.”

  “Why ‘you’ of all people?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Jack replied, frowning, stung by his brother’s insensitive remark. “It has something to do with Genovene. He tol
d me she came to him in a dream and foretold his death. Did you ever tell him anything about her?”

  “No. Never,” said Jeremy, his angry look melting quickly into somber bewilderment.

  Jack went on to explain all that Dr. Mensch told him. He then revealed everything Agent McNamee had shared with him, including the mysterious package the professor supposedly received from overseas and the unusual events taking place around the world.

  Once finished, they both sat in silence. Jack waited patiently for his brother’s response, while Jeremy looked out toward the open road before them, as if picturing what it would be like if they reached the other side of the Canadian border safely. He turned toward Jack with a sly smile on his face.

  “You know, Jackie, to go back home to Tuscaloosa is nuts,” he said. “‘Asinine’ is a better way to put it. But for some goddamned reason, I’m thinking we should do it anyway. Maybe it’s because of how much Oscar meant to me. Like a father...the ‘dad’ I never knew. Or, it’s the intrigue I’ve always felt about Genovene and her unique place in history—at least our family’s history. Hell, it could be both reasons, to be honest. Regardless, have you ever known me to turn down an invitation to a good party, or back down from a necessary fight?”

  “No, I can’t say I have,” said Jack, snickering.

  Jeremy chuckled with him, and Jack could tell by his ardent eyes it was no longer a question as to whether or not they were going home. Strictly a question of how quick could they do it.

  “All right, Jackie. We’ll go back home,” said Jeremy. “You’re going to have to trust me on how we do it, though. Okay? I mean, can you bite your tongue at least until we reach Alabama?”

  “Yeah, I believe I can.”

  “Good. Make sure you do, because if I’m spared any unnecessary distractions, I might be able to get us home by tonight. What time have you got there, anyway?”

  “It’s five minutes past four,” said Jack, showing him the watch’s glowing digital display.

  “I think our chances of making my prediction come true are pretty damn good.”

  Jeremy pulled the truck back onto the highway, heading north. Jack started to say something, wondering why they didn’t just turn around and head south. Jeremy immediately gave him a look that said ‘Just trust me, damn it!’

  Jack closed his mouth and settled back against the bench seat. Before long, they reached the residential areas of Hagerstown and came up on a large apartment community called ‘Brook Meadows’. Jeremy pulled into the open gate, driving the truck around to the rear, where he parked next to a large trash bin.

  “Wait here,” he told Jack after he cut the engine.

  He didn’t return for nearly twenty minutes. When he did, he was driving a new Toyota hybrid.

  He motioned for Jack to grab the flashlight and map, and less than five minutes later, they were back on I-81. Only this time headed south.

  The maroon sedan came with all of the modern comforts the brothers were normally accustomed to. The digital clock in the Toyota’s dashboard read 4:41 a.m. when they reached the I-40 overpass. Jeremy exited there, heading east toward Frederich, Maryland. Despite even more questions pertaining to where the hell they headed, Jack still didn’t interfere with Jeremy’s plan.

  “We’re heading east, as obviously you’ve noticed,” said Jeremy, acknowledging Jack’s ever-increasing restlessness. “It may seem risky, but we’re on our way back to D.C. via I-270. ‘Back into the hornet’s nest’, I’ll bet you’re thinking. There’s a definite method to this madness, and I’ll bet we’re at least a step ahead of whoever’s looking for us.

  “I’m thinking once we get through D.C., we’ll get onto I-95 and take it south through Richmond. From there we should be able to get onto I-85. At least, that’s what I gathered when I looked at the map earlier. You can confirm it in the car’s GPS system if you’d like.”

  Jack took a moment to do that, navigating through the Toyota’s dash program that presented a detailed map of their location in Virginia.

  “Yeah, it does, Jeremy,” he confirmed. “It looks like we’ll reach I-85 near Petersburg.”

  “Okay…. Once we’re on I-85, it should be a straight shot through North and South Carolina, all the way down to Atlanta,” Jeremy continued. “From there, we’ll take I-20 into Alabama and straight home to Tuscaloosa.”

  “‘Sounds like a decent plan,” Jack told him. He reclined in his seat. “I just hope we make it back home in one piece.”

  “Me too, Jackie. Me too.”

  They pulled onto I-270 south around 5:40 a.m., just as an array of brilliant pink, blue, and orange colors spread across the sky above them from the east. Within the hour, they passed through the nation’s capital and were well on their way to Richmond. Jack finally was able to relax once they safely cleared D.C.’s city limits.

  They raced through Richmond and decided to pull over for breakfast once they approached Petersburg. Jeremy found a Denny’s just off the highway and sent Jack inside to grab a couple of breakfasts to go. He first gave him the Peterbilt ball cap to wear again, pulling down the cap’s bill to partially conceal Jack’s eyes. Then, he gave him enough cash to pay for their food.

  Just past seven-thirty, Jack entered the crowded restaurant. The first thing he noticed was the large television set above the cashier booth. A special national report had interrupted whatever program had previously been in progress. He approached the hostess stand, ready to place his order, when a female reporter began giving details of a brutal multiple homicide involving five federal agents near Arlington, Virginia. Everyone in the immediate area turned toward the television.

  According to the report, four of the five agents had been shot more than once, with all five receiving fatal wounds to the head. One of the slain agents was found stuffed into the trunk of his car, thirty miles north of the original crime scene.

  “Those bastards,” whispered Jack, scarcely believing the FBI or police had gone to such trouble of making sure he Jeremy seemed like the most vicious rogues possible. Why else would they transfer Agent McNamee’s corpse to the other sedan he and Jeremy had taken and later abandoned? They must really be worried someone might learn the truth of what went on inside the government’s covert operation near Manassas Park.

  The reporter went on to identify the assailants as ‘twenty-five-year-old Jeremy Alexander Kenney and his twenty-one-year-old brother, Jack Francis Kenney’. Cold sweat formed between Jack’s shoulder blades and trickled down his back. He fought to hide his nervousness while placing his order.

  ”We should have it ready in just a few minutes, sir.”

  He didn’t immediately hear the hostess, but when he realized she was talking to him, he allowed her to direct him over to a nearby wooden bench. He hoped she hadn’t seen the driver’s license photos of him and his brother plastered just now across the television screen

  As he sat down, the reporter stated the authorities investigating the ‘terrible crime’ believed the Kenney brothers were heading north to Canada. Jack felt somewhat relieved at this news, until the woman also advised the FBI had posted a ‘one hundred and fifty thousand dollar reward for any information leading to the capture of these dangerous fugitives’.

  It felt like everyone’s eyes in the restaurant were on him, and he looked down at his feet. It wasn’t until the news report moved onto other items that he peered out from under the bill of his cap. Only two patrons actually looked in his general direction, perhaps not even noticing the young man seated near the restrooms.

  “...In other news, the death toll from the F-5 tornado that struck near Meridian, Mississippi last night has risen to 85 confirmed, with another 210 people still unaccounted for. Authorities from that area are now stating the earlier reports, which depicted the deadly twister as an odd anomaly that seemed to have a golden glow and that one witness described as a ‘twisting golden tower of destruction’, were greatly exaggerated. Regardless, the victims already confirmed from the tornado’s path make it
one of the worst natural tragedies to hit the area in the past one hundred years. It is the second major weather disaster to hit the state of Mississippi since Hurricane Katrina decimated Gulfport and Biloxi in 2005....”

  Jack stared numbly at the television, his mind stuck like a broken record on the phrase ‘twisting golden tower of destruction’. It repeated over and over in his head, the steady drone of his pulse throbbing while he fought to remain calm. In desperation, he closed his eyes and took several slow deep breaths, praying this effort wouldn’t make him stand out.

  “Here you go, sir!”

  The hostess abruptly grabbed his attention. He’d been so involved with his breathing exercise that he failed to notice the television station had returned to its original programming, a local bass fishing show.

  It took less than twenty minutes for the cooks to prepare two hefty orders of bacon, eggs, and pancakes, but seemed more like an hour to him. After paying for the food and two coffees, he gathered the pair of large bags that contained everything and smiled at the hostess. She returned his smile, but something in her eyes made him certain his nervousness didn’t go unnoticed.

  Jack quickly made his way back to the car, where he started telling Jeremy about the news report and his suspicion the hostess may have recognized him. He did this before safely inside the sedan’s protective privacy, much to his brother’s irritation.

  “Calm down, Jackie!” chided Jeremy. “Now’s not the time or place to lose your cool! Here, you hold onto this shit and let me get us back on the highway.”

  Jeremy seemed to take the news reports in stride, never revealing how it affected him. But, the mere fact he wasted little time in getting on I-270 again said all that was needed.

  The brothers ate their breakfast while heading south, and soon merged onto I-85. By nine o’clock they had left Virginia and were well on their way to Greensboro, North Carolina. They stopped briefly in Durham to fill up the car with gas, and purchased two pairs of sunglasses and another baseball cap.