by Ts Alan
Caitlin was a screecher—her voice, strident and shrill, echoed throughout the armory night and day. It was not just painful for himself and Luci, but to all of the people of the armory. After a week of Ryan fielding civilian complaints and bringing them to his attention on a daily basis, J.D. knew something needed to be done not only for the populace, but also for his own sanity. He decided that a private setting would be conducive for everyone. He thought about relocating his daughter and his mate to his old home—his pre-doomsday domain—his apartment on 13th Street. However, too many renovations needed to be done to make his residence livable again. Besides, Caitlin’s incessant screeching would only attract half-mutes and perhaps Stone and his men, or others, and his apartment building was not easily defendable. There was only one viable solution—the unused top floor of the armory, where doors could be closed and Caitlin’s noises could be muffled.
Sex was still absent in J.D.’s and Luci’s relationship even after several weeks of Caitlin’s birth. At first, he had thought it was postpartum depression, and so he did not try to force himself upon her. After a month, he could no longer take not indulging in sexual pleasure. When he tried to initiate sex, his advances were abruptly halted by an angry and violent response. Luci was not interested in any mating.
What J.D. had not realized was that the gene therapy injections he was giving her were not only affecting her physically but also altering her brain chemistry as some of her damaged human DNA began to be repaired. It was taking its toll on her physically as well as mentally. She no longer had a sex drive nor the energy to do much more than to breast-feed Caitlin. The virus she had been infected with had been developed using recombinant owl DNA. In Doctor France’s human trials at the GCC, Luci had been one of the test subjects. Richard France quickly discovered the disease, which was meant to kill its host, had a different effect on some of those who had a mutated CCR5-D32 gene in their DNA makeup. Instead of death, it altered DNA on a cellular level, causing a metamorphosis into what the doctor would name a transmute. However, it did not alter nearly as much human DNA in females as it did with male subjects; an anomaly France was unable to figure out.
When J.D. had finally confronted the doctor about his own mutation, shortly after retaking the GCC, he discovered that he was beyond help and his mutation was permanent. However in their adversarial conversation the doctor did reveal that it might have been possible to repair some of the mutation if he had had a pre-mutated DNA strain from him. J.D. had realized that though he could not be helped, it was possible Luci could be. Doctor France would have certainly taken samples from Luci prior to infecting her with the virus, and when hard pressed the doctor revealed he had.
Thirty days into the treatments Luci had begun to change, subtly, but J.D. had not noticed. It was the sixth week of therapy when the change suddenly struck him. He had been away from her for several days, concentrating on armory business, confident that Luci was able to take care of their child without any supervision. He had returned in the evening to find her sitting on the wooden floor of the room in front of the full-length mirror that was attached to the closet door crying, their daughter who she clutched to her bosom also crying.
He spoke to her trying to console her with a soothing voice, knowing she could not respond with human speech. Shockingly she did. She pointed to the mirror, and with a facial expression of repulsion and a tone of great lament she spoke, “Look. Ugly. Luci ugly.”
Having previously only the ability to communicate with hand gestures and screech type vocalizations, J.D. was awestruck by the return of her human language. After initially being dumb struck, he reassured her, “No, Luci You’re beautiful.”
“No!” she insisted. “Ugly. Look,” she told him holding up her hands.
“No, Luci. You look,” he told her, holding up his taloned fingers. “Luci and J.D. the same. Caitlin the same.” He raised his daughter’s little fingers.
“Doctor hurt me. Doctor make me ugly. I no want to be ugly. I want die… Go. Go. No look at me.”
He knew her anguish had been his fault. He had been selfish in his desire to return her to a more human state. He would discontinue the gene therapy.
She pushed him away. She was inconsolable. He could not calm her aching heart nor stop her tears with his words. The more Luci sobbed, the more Caitlin wailed. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, and then realized what might placate both his daughter and his mate.
He went to another room where he had stored some of his personal affects to retrieve the one thing that might calm them both; it was his Yamaha Arranger Workstation.
He had not played his keyboard or any keyboard for an extremely long time nor had he sung since that day in the truck when he and David traveled down Second Avenue on their way to McSorley’s Ale House.
He had many favorite artists and knew how to play many songs from various music genres. However there was one artist who he knew Luci cherished the most. Elton John had been a name that had attracted J.D.’s attention to a questionnaire he had read in the medical records that Doctor France had kept in regard to his test subject. In Luci’s box, along with a few personal items, had been a file that contained a sheet of paper with various personal questions. In the document, Luci had stated that her music choice was mainly of the pop rock kind, mainly British artists, with one standing out significantly. Accented with asterisks on both sides of the name, was the words Elton John. This was Luci’s favorite music artist, and it was with this single musician he hoped to calm her by singing the few Elton John songs he knew.
Running through several ballads, which elicited no response from her, J.D. then played “Blue Eyes.” Though she did not stop her sobbing, it appeared Luci recognized the song. When he had finished he smoothly transitioned to “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds,” hoping that hearing her name would calm her. It did.
She came to him with their child and put her hand on his. He stopped playing.
Realizing his terrible mistake, he turned to her and cupped his hand to her cheek, begging her forgiveness. “I’m sorry, Luci. I was selfish. I wanted you to be human again. To give you back your memories. To make you the way you once were. But that was wrong. I did it for me, not for you. And now all I have brought you is anguish.”
She saw his remorse and understood the regret he conveyed. “I understand. You try to help. Make Luci b-better. Like at the… lab—laber… laba.” Her words were stammered as she fought to find the correct pronunciation. But her mouth failed her. “The underground place. You save me. No harm. Make me better… But you send me away…I – I understood… I watch J.D. always. I find you and… help you, too. Now we together.” She held up their child. “We make Cai – Cai… Caitlin. We f-family.”
“Yes, Luci. We’re family.”
For the moment, Luci was now calm and content, but Caitlin still was dissatisfied. Luci placed her in the crib that was near the bed and returned to her mate. She pulled at him, beckoning him to the bed. She wanted him and it was the first time he had truly been invited in a romantic way. He accommodated her, and for the first time their lovemaking had been tender as well as passionate and not just aggressive and robust.
After several hours of loving one another Luci had fallen asleep. Caitlin, however, refused to follow her mother’s lead. Though she no longer cried, she fussed, greatly. He moved his keyboard closer to her and watched his fidgety, noisy, non-compliant daughter as he tried to think what music might possibly soothe a picky transmute infant.
She had not appreciated Elton John as her mother did, so he needed to find something to her liking. After attempting Joe Jackson’s “Love Got Lost,” she was still an unhappy girl. She didn’t seem to care for his rendition of “Phantom’s Theme” by Paul Williams, and though he thought she got some amusement out of “Song For Whoever” by the Beautiful South, she still refused to fall asleep. Though more suited for accordion than piano, he played and sang the Sha
ne MacGowan song, “Skipping Rhymes,” which was based on the traditional children’s song “This Old Man.” However, it was apparent she was not fond of his favorite Irish singer. A spittle lip vibration came from her in protest.
“What?” J.D. declared, with astonishment to her disapproving verbal gesture. “Did you just give me a raspberry? Or did you give Shane Patrick Lysaght MacGowan a raspberry. Ya wee disagreeable child,” he responded in a fake Irish accent. “How could you?”
He picked her up, cradled her in his arms, and gently danced around the room with her, singing “Good Night” by the Beatles.
“You, young lady,” he playfully scolded. “You should be my biggest fan, not my biggest critic. Shall we try again?”
She stared up at her father and gave him an amused look.
“I will take that as a yes,” he said to her, and then returned her to the crib.
He pondered what would put her to sleep. Something, perhaps, he thought, without lyrics, a tune that would be light and floaty. He knew just the piano piece, “Clair de Lune” from Suite Bergamasque by Claude Debussy. Caitlin fell asleep before he had played the last notes.
It had been a long time since he had played or sang, and now that his daughter had drifted off under the hypnotic spell of Debussy, he decided to play for himself.
Though J.D. had tried to keep his singing and playing low, as not to awaken Luci, he had unknowingly done so. Luci had watched and listened from her bed, the interaction between her mate and daughter. Finally, when Caitlin drifted off under the hypnotic spell of Debussy, and as he began to play Chopin’s “Nocturne Op.9 No.2,” she went to him. She looked at her sleeping daughter and smiled.
There was one other piano ballad that he knew Luci would take pleasure in, a song not by Elton John, but by Elvis Costello. It was from a film starring one of her favorite actors, Hugh Grant. The song was “She,” from the film Notting Hill.
He began to play it, but before he reached the bridge of the song, only having completed half the verse that led into it, Luci coaxed him from his piano bench, and gently spoke three simple words, “Love. More. Now.”
***
Love. More. Now.
There was happiness in his life again.
However happiness is fleeting, like the setting of the sun.
13
Wei Ji
November 13, Day 219.
There was the long, piercing honking of a Humvee horn. They had come like they had before, a strike force, but this time they had brought more vehicles, military Humvees, more weapons and more men. If they chose to lay siege to the armory this would not be a haphazard attempt like what had happened previously. J.D. and his friends had thwarted the attack without injury or loss of life to their group. However the men inside the armory were not his old tried and true, battle-experienced comrades. He and James were the only ones who had any battlefield experience, so he knew that he would have to put on a strong front to convince these men that any attempt to seize the armory would be futile. He had known that one day, sooner rather than later, those who had tried previously to forcibly take control of the armory would return and try to accomplish what they had so miserably failed at the first time. Paul had warned him Stone was coming.
The mid-November air was mild as J.D. approached the men who had gathered in front of the north gate at 26th Street. The wind blew lightly from the south to the north and it reminded him of those windy spring days on Second Avenue and 12th Street when he used to sip his vanilla hazelnut flavored coffee on the wooden slat bench in front of the Open Pantry, but spring was months away. However, J.D. had over dressed for the weather and it was apparent by the looks on the faces of the men behind the fence that they had taken notice of his outfit. There had been a reason J.D. was wearing a vest, gloves, a black military cap, and sunglasses along with his full military uniform. The vest was body armor for protection, but the other accessories were to hide his advantages.
“I’m looking for the one called Plissken. Lieutenant Robert Plissken,” declared a tall man with a noticeable bald area on the crown of his head, as he emerged from the center of the group, and then sized up J.D.
J.D. responded to the man’s inquiry. “That joke never seems to get old. It’s colonel. Colonel Nichols. And what can I do you out of?”
“You’re a funny man, Colonel. It’s not what you can do for me it’s what I’m going to do for you. Why don’t you let me in so we can talk?” The man slightly raised the bottom hem of his shirt and spun around while simultaneously assuring J.D. of his intent. “As you can see I’m unarmed.”
“Why don’t you state your business before you decrease the property values?” J.D. snapped at the man.
“All right,” he said with irritation, as he straightened his shirt. “I’m going to let you and your little toy army just walk away. Just walk away from the armory and everyone gets to live.”
J.D. stared at the man’s dirtied navy blue colored shirt that was clearly too large for him. He was dressed in a uniform shirt from the New York City Department of Corrections. Above his left breast pocket, stitched to his uniform, was a name patch that read, ‘A. Renquist’, but J.D. knew this man was not who he was pretending to be.
“Just walk away and everyone gets to live.” J.D. sarcastically repeated. “I’ll tell you what. You just have Stone bring us the women and children and you got a deal. If not, tell him I’ll be coming to get them.”
“I don’t know whom you’re talking about,” he feigned.
“I know you’re not Stone. You’re just one of his ass-lickin’ dogs. So, go deliver the message.”
The man grew angry at J.D.’s insult.
“I could shoot you right here.”
“You could, but you won’t.”
“Ye—yeah we could just sh—shoot you.”
“What are you?” J.D. asked the nervous, skinny man who stood next to Renquist. “The ugly inbred comic relief? I’d watch where you’re pointing that gun, twitchy, or you might find yourself dead.”
“Hey, who you, you ca—calling twitchy?” the red-haired man stammered in his reply.
“He’s quick, too, isn’t he?” J.D. snidely added.
“You’re pretty bold for a man who came out without back up,” Renquist said.
J.D. replied defiantly, “And you’re pretty stupid if you think there’s no one watching my back. We’re done here.”
J.D. turned and walked away from them. He wasn’t afraid that they’d shoot him in the back, for he was being watched over, and J.D. was certain that the person who had sent Renquist did not want J.D. dead at that moment. Within several moments of returning to the armory, the horn of the Humvee echoed a second time throughout Lexington Avenue. He was being summoned again.
There was only one man at the gate this time, and it was Stone.
He was a man of medium size and height with golden blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. He did not appear menacing, but neither had serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer. When he spoke his voice was lyrical and sweet, and upon his blemish-free, baby-smooth skin a charismatic smile lit his face as he recited:
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the colonel’s horses and all the colonel’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again!
The nursery rhyme confirmed what J.D. had suspected all along. It had been Stone who scrawled the cryptic Babes in the Wood message on the wall at St. Clement’s Episcopal Church.
“Yeah, well,” J.D. responded snidely. “‘A wise old owl sat in an oak. The more he heard, the less he spoke. The less he spoke, the more he heard. Why aren’t you like that wise old bird?’ Now get to the point!” he said with irritation.
Of all the nursery rhymes that had been recited to him in his childhood, he could only remember three in their entirety.
“I overe
stimated you, Colonel. I thought you a man of intelligence. Why do you not accept my offer? Your army has left you. The world is but an echo of the past. Whom are you fighting for?”
J.D. tried to be clever. He tried to come up with a movie quote for a response. He had once been a master of movie quote trivia. But most of the snappy lines seem to elude him and those he barely remembered seemed to be a fuzzy mixture of quotes from an amalgamation of films.
“I fight for reasons you would not understand. I have an obligation to protect the innocent. We stand between those who need our protection and those who would do them harm.”
“Indeed… then why have you come to meet me if it is not to accept my offer?”
“I came to see your face, so that I alone may find you on the battlefield. And it would be wise for you to take note of mine, Stone. For the next time you see it, it will be the last thing you see on this Earth.”
“We could just wait you out or take the armory by force.”