Last Days (Last Days Trilogy #1)

by Jacqueline Druga

  Marcus laughed, and then looked puzzled. “Who’s Herbie?”

  “Male.” Marcus said in answer to Seth’s question.

  The fork dropped from Kyle’s hand. He first looked to Eliza, then to George, then back to Marcus with a look of confusion and irritation. “No shit, Sherlock,” he told Marcus. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

  Marcus let out a chuckle as he played with his mashed potatoes. “Well, he has type-A blood. Did you know that?”

  Kyle rolled his eyes. “Boring.”

  “Mr. Stevens.” Marcus tried not to laugh. “What do you want to know? Um, let’s see. Medium build, about one hundred and seventy pounds, from what I can tell. About six foot one.”

  “Marcus?” Eliza asked sincerely. “Now that you’ve seen the Shroud, how does it compare to what we’ve read in the Bible?”

  “Honest?” Marcus asked. “Pretty good. Except one thing.” He paused and looked around the room, everyone’s eyes fixed on him. “If you ask me, there was an awful lot of blood.” Again Marcus looked around the room, to see if anyone had understood the meaning of what he’d just said. No one had, of course, so he continued. “Dead men don’t bleed that much. He wasn’t dead when they took him from the cross.”

  A chorus of chokes and coughs sounded.

  “What?” Marcus looked up.

  Eliza waved her finger. “Please don’t tell me you doubt the Resurrection?”

  “No…” Marcus said.

  “Good.” Eliza interrupted, exhaling loudly.

  “I’m saying he never died.” Marcus went on, very matter-of-factly. “Maybe some soldier with a good heart took him down, put him in the tomb and after a few days of rest he was strong enough to get up and walk out.”

  Reggie immediately jumped up, squeaking out words. “Coffee, anyone?” She darted to the kitchen.

  Eliza gasped so deeply that she choked. “Don’t you even come into my house with that...”

  “Liza,” George said smoothly. “When has Marcus not done this to you? He’s being Marcus. When he leaves this world and gets greeted by a slap in the face from the good Lord… well, then he’ll see the error of his ways.”

  Kyle decided to change the subject. “Speaking of errors, are you going to do it, Marcus? Every third visit you announce a new wife. Are you gonna announce wife number five?”

  Marcus reached for his milk. “Not this time.” He took a sip and watched Reggie walk into the room with a carafe of coffee. “Unless, Reggie wants to.”

  “Unless I want to what?” She set down the pot.

  “Be wife number five,” Marcus said.

  Reggie shook her head. “Nah, I’m holding out for slot seven or eight.” She returned to the kitchen.

  Kyle chuckled. “Wouldn’t let her marry you anyhow, Marcus. You don’t have a talent.”

  Marcus looked at him oddly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Can you pound a dent out of a car?” Kyle asked.

  “No.”

  “Then you can’t marry my daughter.”

  Marcus sat back in his chair, and retorted, “But I can clone Christ.”

  Again, Eliza gasped and covered her ears. “Please. Stop.”

  “Mom.” Marcus snickered and looked back at Kyle. “Genetic engineering… that’s not a talent?”

  “Nope,” Kyle said. “Herbie pounds the hell out of a dent. Now that’s a talent. And he’s a nice guy. Isn’t he, Eliza?”

  “Wonderful, church-going boy.” She folded her hands. “And handsome.”

  “Great sense of humor,” George added.

  “He’s gonna be my new dad,” Seth announced.

  “Herbie?” Marcus questioned, feeling as though he really must have missed something. Reggie walked in from the kitchen with cups. “Reg, who’s Herbie?”

  Reggie turned around and went back in the kitchen, shaking her head.

  Twinkling eyes? Talk of future plans? Marcus looked for the signs as he sat with Reggie and her new man that evening at her dining room table. He couldn’t figure it out. She hadn’t mentioned the guy. Reggie was his best friend, surely she should have told him. Eight years had passed since her heart was shattered by her husband’s death. Marcus realized it would heal, eventually. But with Herbie?

  Marcus was never one to think looks counted the most. If he did, he would never have married wives two and three. But Herbie pushed the limits of ‘love is blind’. Marcus stared. He really tried to find something appealing about the guy. His haircut was nice. But that couldn’t be it. What did Reggie see in him?

  Personality? No, Marcus thought. His lines were vintage grammar school, somewhere between fourth and seventh grade. Could it be that she was truly attracted to someone who could pound the hell out of a dent? Nah, he thought. Maybe it was some weird need that drew her to Herbie.

  Was it sex? Was Reggie with Herbie for the sex? Perhaps he was some sort of dynamo and didn’t show it, or had sizable assets. Remembering what Rose had said about the size of a man’s hand, Marcus checked out Herbie’s hand and then looked at his own.

  Across the table Reggie snickered. “Marcus? Your hand all right?” she asked.

  “Average. Would you say my hand is average size?” Marcus asked.

  “Yes.” Reggie handed the dice to Herbie. “Your turn.”

  Herbie rolled. “Five.” He smiled. “One, two, three, four...”

  Marcus sat up from his slump. “Are you lonely, Reg?”

  Reggie smiled. “No, not at all. Why would you ask that?”

  “Searching,” Marcus answered.

  “Marcus.” Herbie picked up a Trivial Pursuit card. “Your turn to answer. What is the common household name for...?” Herbie scratched his head. “Cal-key-um Sue-li-fate he-my-hid-rat-tee?”

  Marcus twitched his head but kept his stare on Reggie. “Calcium sulphate hemihydrate. That’s plaster of Paris. In need of companionship, Reg?”

  “What?” she snickered.

  “Hey.” Herbie smiled. “That was pretty good. How did you know that big word?”

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “I’m a scientist, big guy.”

  “But still,” Herbie said.

  “Still?” Marcus raised his eyebrows then returned to Reggie. “Another kid? Are you wanting to find...”

  “Marcus.” Reggie laughed. “What’s with all the questions?”

  “It’s just that...” Marcus shifted his eyes about. “I’ll tell you. But it’s getting late. When can I see you alone?”

  “Hey now.” Herbie held up his hand. “I’ve been listening to your questions... lonely, companionship, kids. Hand size, huh? I know what that means. You don’t want to fool around with her, do you?”

  “No, I don’t,” Marcus responded calmly.

  “Good… because she’s promised out.”

  Marcus regarded Herbie, his lip crinkling. “I know this is like a big date night for you...”

  “Yes it is.” Herbie nodded.

  Marcus stared at him seriously. “Go home,” he instructed in a cold tone.

  “What?” Herbie was shocked.

  Reggie grinned. “Marcus, if you want Herbie to leave, you could ask him nicely.”

  “Herbie.” Marcus said, looking sternly at him. “I would like to spend time with my friend. Alone. And for me to do that, you need to go home.”

  After thinking for a second, Herbie said, “Okay,” shrugged his shoulders and stood up. “’Night. Walk me to the door, Reggie?”

  “Uh... okay.” Reggie felt uncomfortable. “Sure. Excuse me, Marcus.” Standing up, she waited as he put on his coat and then she walked him to the door. As Herbie puckered up, Reggie grabbed his hand gave it a firm shake and darted a quick kiss to his cheek. “Night.”

  That made Herbie smile and then he turned and left.

  Frozen fake smile intact, Reggie closed the door after him. Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked back to the dining room. Marcus was putting the game away. “Now. What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
>
  “Me?” Marcus laughed. “What’s wrong with you? When Daniel died you said you’d never be with anyone else. I never bought that. You dated, but you didn’t get involved. But somehow, I thought, okay, she’ll meet that special someone. But... Herbie?”

  “Herbie is not...”

  “Anything.”

  “Excuse me?” Reggie asked.

  “I finished your sentence. I said Herbie isn’t anything.”

  “How dare you finish my sentence.”

  “Someone has to. Shit, you’re worse than my mom.” Marcus said. “Hasn’t anyone told you how blind you’re being? Oh, wait, I forgot. Herbie pounds the hell out of a dent. Please, Reg.” Marcus held up his hand when she tried to talk. “Let me get this off my chest, okay?”

  “Shoot.” Reggie threw up her hands in resignation

  “The guy doesn’t even bathe,” Marcus shook his head. “He doesn’t.” Reggie started to say something in Herbie’s defense. “Let me finish. Granted, the guy is nice, but that isn’t enough to get you through the rough times you two will have. And you will have rough times, Reg. On top of that, the guy’s dumb, Reg; dumb as an ox. He can’t even say Calcium.”

  “Not everyone is a genetic scientist, Mister Big Shot.”

  “Calcium, Reg. Nine-year-olds know that word.”

  “Why are you so upset?” Reggie asked.

  Marcus fluttered his lips a little before speaking. “I want the best for you. Herbie’s not the best. And I think, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you may be a little hard up...”

  Reggie exhaled loudly. “Hard up?”

  “I definitely could have said that better.”

  “Let me tell you something about Herbie.” Reggie placed on a stone face. “I love him dearly. He’s a wonderful, handsome man...”

  “I’ve got to go home. I’m not feeling well.” Marcus walked from the dining room.

  “He’s funny. He’s sensitive,” she called out louder as Marcus retreated.

  “Where’s my coat?” Marcus looked around, spotted it, and picked it up from the back of the couch. “I’ll just say goodbye to Seth.”

  Reggie followed Marcus down the hall to the bedrooms. “And aside from the fact that he can pound the hell out a dent, he has many, many hidden talents.”

  Marcus walked into Seth’s room. He was sleeping. Marcus leaned over and kissed him. “’Night, little guy,” he whispered, then moved quickly toward the door and down the hallway. “I can’t believe it,” Marcus muttered. “Herbie?”

  “There is nothing wrong with him.” Reggie raced after Marcus. “He’s a fine human being. Not to mention one hell of a lay.”

  Open-mouthed, Marcus spun around. “Oh…my…God.”

  “I’m marrying him, Marcus, and I want you to be my Maid of Honor.”

  “Night, Reg.” He hurriedly kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll text you. No wait, you don’t have a cell phone.”

  “Herbie’s buying me one.”

  “Night.”

  “Marcus,” Reggie called his name as he opened the door. “I’m lying.”

  Marcus stopped and turned around. “About?”

  “Everything. Herbie. The marriage. You being my Maid of Honor.”

  “What?”

  Reggie snickered. “You heard me. I’m lying. Well, except for the cell phone. Herbie said he’s getting me a flip thingy. Bargain Mart has them cheap.”

  “So, I’ve heard.” Marcus leaned against the closed door. “Tell me, who is he and why was he here tonight?”

  “He works for my dad. My dad set us up on this blind date. Now I can’t get rid of him.”

  Marcus grinned. “I can help you there.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet. It’s okay. He’s really harmless and I can’t do anything right now. My dad’s afraid he’ll quit if I do. So I have to wait until the Anderson’s car is finished.”

  “That’s terrible,” Marcus said, laughing.

  Reggie shrugged. “I know, but that’s my dad.”

  Marcus looked at his watch.

  “Tired, huh?” Reggie asked. “Being in a plane crash will do that to you.”

  Marcus grinned broadly “I still can’t believe I slept through it.”

  “Marcus?” Reggie asked.

  “Yeah?” he responded.

  “You’re staring.”

  “Sorry. I was looking at your eyes.”

  “Are they red?” Reggie asked, rubbing them. “They feel like they’re red.”

  “No,” Marcus answered. “They’re amazing. I had a dream about your eyes today.”

  “I wonder why?” Reggie asked coyly.

  “No you don’t,” Marcus said.

  “You’re funny,” Reggie retorted, a huge grin dawning on her face.

  “I should go,” Marcus said. He then slid a finger the down Reggie’s face. “Tonight was nice.” He smiled. “Even if Herbie was here.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night.”

  “Marcus?” Reggie asked plaintively. “I’ll understand if you’re too tired. But, I really missed hanging out with you. I was kind of hoping you’d stay for a while. Maybe, like old times, we could just hang out on the couch and talk.”

  “Only if you’ve got popcorn.” Marcus said, already taking off his coat.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘Yes.’” Reggie smiled. “I’ll get on it”

  “And coffee, too, if you don’t mind.”

  It was going to be all-nighter. Excitedly, Reggie went into the kitchen to start popping. She was so happy to have Marcus, for a brief moment she contemplated on letting him have one of her special brew coffee pods. That thought was fleeting; she started a pot of regular coffee after she put the popcorn in the microwave.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Westing Biogenetic Institute

  Chicago, IL

  In Marcus’ office, on a small blackboard, sixty-three slashes marked his failed attempts to generate life in the egg that was to eventually become the clone.

  Marcus felt Rose behind him as he stared at his ‘slash board,’ a stare that was lengthening with each day’s failure.

  “It will work soon,” she whispered.

  “I know.” Marcus nodded. “Wasn’t time yet. Today is the day.”

  Rose raised her eyebrows. “That’s the first time you said that.”

  “It’s simple,” he said. “Today is the first day we move to the batch four ovum.” Marcus grabbed his lab jacket and moved to the door.

  “What’s so special about batch four?” Rose asked.

  “A perfect history… batch four has never let me down.”

  Rose followed Marcus without further questions, content to let her boss focus on the task at hand. They stopped mid-lab when Dr. Genevieve overtook them.

  Marcus turned and held up a finger. “You feel it too, don’t you? Today is the day.”

  “Today is the day.” Dr. Genevieve stepped closer. “The day to suspend the experiment.”

  Marcus froze. “Suspend the experiment?”

  “Yes. The violence has become too much.”

  “Not really; we’ve become immune to it,” Marcus said jokingly. “Haven’t we, Rose?”

  “Yes,” Rose answered. “Marcus was shot at the other day by some homeless religious fanatic.”

  “Let’s not forget yesterday’s evacuation of the building,” Marcus added. “Not so bad, kind of a mid-evening pick-me-up… if not for the hard snow,” he shrugged. “So you see, no suspension.”

  “Marcus,” Dr. Genevieve said soberly. “What do you plan to do with the egg once the generation is complete?”

  “It will be the same as the in-vitro process. We’ll implant it in the surrogate mother four days after the cells multiply.”

  “Hence the reason for suspension. We no longer have Jillian.”

  “Okay,” Marcus continued gathering his things. “Who’s Jillian?”

  “The surrogate mother we hired,” Dr. Genevieve told him.

  “Did she quit?” Marcus as
ked.

  “No, she’s dead.”

  Marcus gaped, wide eyed.

  “She committed suicide this morning; she said her soul was damned.”

  “That’s terrible,” Marcus commented.

  Dr. Genevieve nodded. “She had a husband and a son.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” Marcus ran his hand over his head. “It’s terrible we don’t have a surrogate. Today’s the day. That only leaves four days.”

  Rose closed her eyes and placed her hand on Marcus’ shoulder. “Sorry, Marcus. But,” she turned to Dr Genevieve, “we’ll continue when we find a replacement, right, doctor?”

  “Absolutely,” He turned to Marcus. “So, Marcus...”

  Marcus interrupted him with a raised hand.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Marcus ignored him and walked straight into his office. The door shut.

  Dr. Genevieve looked at Rose. “What is he...?”

  “Temper tantrum.”

  “Come now. Dr. Leon is not having a...” He cringed at the loud crash from Marcus’ office, followed by four bangs and an even louder thump.

  The office door flew open and Marcus slid to an abrupt halt in front of them. He smiled and moved to Dr. Genevieve. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

  “I was uh...” Dr. Genevieve’s eyes shifted about. “I was, uh, saying we will continue as soon as the institute locates a viable surrogate mother. We’ll begin the search right away.”

  “Marcus,” Rose touched his arm. “It won’t be held up too long. We’re on batch number four. What did you say about number four? A powerful history of not letting you down?”

  Marcus grinned. “You are absolutely right, Rose. Thanks.” He briefly grabbed hold of her shoulders, and then went back to his office, entered and shut the door.

  The doctor looked at the closed door nervously. “I hope not another temper tantrum?”

  Rose shrugged. Marcus popped his head out the door. “No. No tantrum,” he replied. “Phone call.” The door closed.

  Seville, Ohio

  There was something about the day that just felt different to Reggie. A part of her felt disconnected from her job. She was late, which rarely happened, Cook had to yell at her more than once to ‘pick up’ and the morning rush proved too much.