Soulless: The Story of Shayan (Prequel to The Soul Quest Trilogy)

by Amy Jones

  “Hey, what about that actress Marilyn Monroe… she’s always hanging around with the President. I think she’s more than she claims to be, you know, a lot more than just a pretty face on the side?” David regained composure.

  He was getting caught up in the excitement. I had heard others speculate that this Monroe character was much more than the President’s whore but never gave it much credence. Still, I should keep David happy. Doing so will only further my cause.

  “As you wish David… I always say, it’s better to be safe than sorry.” I nodded and the four men robotically copied my action.

  The day has finally arrived, November 22, 1963. Today President Kennedy will breathe his last breath. The five of us were huddled in a circle on top of the Texas Schoolbook Depository. The president would pass this location in his route in some parade or event scheduled for the day. It was the perfect opportunity for his death.

  “Are you ready Lee? I promised you the President. Will you be able to pull the trigger when the opportunity to execute him presents itself?” I asked.

  “Absolutely, I’ve been looking forward to this with great anticipation.” Lee nodded.

  He had a smirk on his face that lacked humor. He was entirely relaxed and focused on his task. David, James and Sirhan looked nervous. Sirhan even had a slight green tint to his complexion. Still, the men were here fulfilling the details of their assignment.

  We decided to separate to take different firing angles in the event that Lee missed the target. Lee took aim in a room at the top of the Texas Schoolbook Depository while the rest of us scattered ourselves along the Grassy Knoll. I intended to flee the scene just as soon as I was assured of the President’s death. As President Kennedy’s uncovered limousine turned onto Elm Street and passed the Texas Schoolbook Depository shots were immediately fired. I distinctly heard three shots. Two came from Lee’s location but the third was fired from the Grassy Knoll. Lee had missed his target leaving someone else the task of firing the fatal shot. As the President lay despondent and grotesquely wounded in the back seat of the limo James, David, Sirhan and I took the chaotically, distracting moment as an opportunity to escape.

  Later that evening news reports confirmed the death of President John F. Kennedy. James, David, Sirhan and I returned to Manhattan to distance ourselves from Lee. He had been arrested by an officer J. D. Tippit only forty minutes after the shooting. We watched nervously from the comfort of my suite at the Waldorf Astoria. As suspected the nation was in hysteria. I relished in the fact that with this one death I had already managed to weaken the political foundation of this powerful nation and secure an emotionally fragile state among its people. We continued to watch the story unfold on the television screen.

  “Only two days after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy his alleged murderer, Lee Harvey Oswald has been killed by night club owner Jack Ruby.” we heard the news anchor report.

  The authorities were transferring Lee from police headquarters to the county jail when Mr. Ruby shot and killed him.

  I could sense that James, David and Sirhan were rattled by this news. I was not about to share my relief with them. The way I see it, I now have one less mouth to silence when this is all over.

  “It’s a shame about what happened to Lee but he did get to avenge Castro as he wished. Even though I do not feel vulnerable to any suspicion at this time I feel we should take precaution and keep our distance for awhile. I will contact you when I feel it is safe to move forward with the plan again.” I said firmly.

  My colleagues agreed and we returned to our everyday lives as if nothing had transpired.

  Several years have passed. One month ago the assassination conspiracy reunited to continue with my mission. The motel room in Memphis was small and dingy but today the room next door housed the next target on my list, Martin Luther King, Jr. It was James who made the fatal shot in Dallas over four years ago and so it is him that I rely on today to do the same service to the preacher man. I listened carefully as I heard the neighboring hotel room door open. I could hear the preacher speaking in hushed tones as he exited his room. Within seconds I heard the popping blasts of shots fired. David and Sirhan darted toward the window to catch a glimpse of what was happening but I restrained them. It was crucial that we remain undetected. As the chaos commenced I led the two men to the back of the hotel room. There was a window located in the bathroom that led out to a small platform. I instructed them to follow me as I exited the window onto the platform, jumped from it onto a nearby dumpster and finally found the ground. They followed and we ran.

  It was an oddly enjoyable and familiar feeling listening to the news regarding the shooting of Martin Luther King, Jr. I’d been following the media’s accounts of James’s whereabouts since the killing on April 4, 1968. He had escaped in Memphis and gone on the run. Four days after the killing he crossed the Canadian border and fled to London using a fake passport.

  “Now what?” Sirhan wondered.

  “Now, while James has the authorities busied, we plan our next assassination, Robert F. Kennedy.” I said calmly. Sirhan and David eyed one another hesitantly. “Is there something the matter gentlemen?” I challenged.

  “No!” Sirhan began defensively. “Well, it’s just that Lee was arrested and killed and now James is on the run. I’m just not sure…” he trailed off.

  His voice was filled with uncertainty. I could tell his words had rattled David too. I can not afford to lose Sirhan and David’s support right now. Not when I’m so close to my completing my goal.

  “You’re not sure about what?” I snapped at Sirhan.

  When all else fails intimidation works divinely. Sirhan was literally quivering in fear.

  “N..n.n..nothing Shyam... It was nothing, nothing at all.” he easily bent to my will.

  “Good. Go home now. I will contact both of you when the time is right to move.” I instructed.

  They obeyed.

  The authorities remain hot on James’s trail. In the mean time I took it upon myself to keep tabs on Robert Kennedy. I soon learned that Mr. Kennedy would be in Los Angeles during the California primary election for the Democratic nomination in June.

  “Sirhan, I need you to pick up David and me from LAX in the morning. I’ll fill you in on the details when we arrive. Be there with a car by ten AM.” I commanded into the telephone before replacing the receiver. I didn’t bother to wait for his response.

  “So what’s going on Shyam?” Sirhan breathed with anxiety as we pulled out of the airport into LA’s traffic. “What is so urgent?”

  “Robert Kennedy is in your neck of the woods Sirhan.” I smiled.

  He shrugged indifferently. “Oh yeah, it’s June fourth. The California primary is tonight. So, you want to try to take him down in front of thousands of people?” he asked incredulously.

  “Not quite. I was thinking about after the primary when he returns to his headquarters at The Ambassador Hotel.” I clarified. Sirhan only nodded. He was nervous and I could see his fear gaining a power beyond my control. He may lose his nerve and decide not to pull the trigger. “Relax Sirhan, everything will be fine. They still haven’t caught James.” I encouraged.

  My suspicion was that James would be caught very soon but Sirhan and David aren’t aware of this fact. I had to use James’s current freedom as leverage tonight. My words seemed to work a little. Sirhan’s shoulders relaxed slightly and his breathing became more even.

  “OK, so what do you want me to do?” he asked.

  What an idiot!

  “I want you to shoot him.” I explained as if I were speaking to a small child.

  Robert Kennedy won the Democratic vote for the California primary election. This doubled my motivation to kill him. He could become as politically powerful as his late brother John. Currently we were in Sirhan’s car on our way to The Ambassador Hotel. Sirhan claimed that he could and would still live up to his part of the plan but I decided not to trust his commitment to the mission. I quickly de
vised a back up plan when we reached the hotel. People were scattered everywhere in the building. They were ecstatic over Robert Kennedy’s victory. The hotel was swarming with security and so I decided I would use these men to my advantage. As one of the hotel security guards rounded the corner I grabbed him with my inhuman strength and speed and whisked him into a linen closet. I knocked him out and traded out our clothing. I was now a part of the hotel security detail.

  Shortly after midnight Robert Kennedy made his way to the kitchen of the hotel. Sirhan, David and I recognized our opportunity and seized it. I watched as Sirhan approached Robert in the kitchen. He stopped short of the man when he was a good six feet away. He lost his nerve. There was no way he would attempt to shoot Mr. Kennedy in this crowded space from that far of a distance. As this fact registered I made my way toward Robert. I stood directly behind him, close enough to touch him, to press the trigger of my gun into his back and then I fired it. Panic erupts in the kitchen and Robert Kennedy’s security personnel find a shocked Sirhan standing several feet away from the collapsed politician holding a hand gun. They seize him. I slip out of the chaos and return to the linen closet holding the unconscious hotel security guard. I replace our clothing before finding David. We walk four blocks from the hotel and hail a taxi to freedom.

  David had been pacing nervously on the balcony of my suite at The Waldorf Astoria for over twenty minutes.

  “Spit it out David.” I finally encouraged. I couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s on your mind?”

  David responded with out hesitation. This surprised me a little. “I want out of the assassination conspiracy Shyam. I know I was the one who suggested that we off the Monroe chick but my hearts not in it anymore. I’m done with this.” he finally admitted.

  Wow, he really is desperate. I shrugged as if I didn’t mind. I didn’t really. I’d already gotten what I wanted and was planning to kill him anyway, not that he was precisely aware of this fact. “Fine, you’re a free man.” I smiled. “…and just to show you there are no hard feelings why don’t we celebrate with this fabulous bottle of Champaign.” I suggested.

  David immediately relaxed and approached the sofa as he returned from the balcony. He smiled at me with relief and gratitude as he fell onto the lush cushions. I turned on the news as a distraction. As David’s eyes glued themselves to the TV I began to fill two glasses with golden bubbly liquid. Ever so quickly I slipped cyanide into his drink. He never saw or suspected anything. The effects of the drug took effect almost immediately and I ignored his momentary strangled gasps and groans as my gaze was caught up in the latest news on the television. As David lay slumped in death next to me a picture of James flashed across the screen.

  “At 11 o’clock in the morning on Saturday, June 8th 1968, James Earl Ray was apprehended by an immigration officer at Heathrow Airport.” the news anchor bellowed.

  “Oops, sorry James… It really is a shame that the one person you so desperately trusted through all of this tipped off your whereabouts to the authorities. Never trust a criminal James, even when you are one.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Shyam Donovan

  Time: 1963

  Place: Manhattan, New York

  Infection

  “The health of the mind is not less uncertain than that of the body, and when passions seem furthest removed we are no less in danger of infection than of falling ill when we are well.”

  ~Francois de la Rochefoucauld

  I paced back and forth restlessly in my New York City suite. The comforts of the lavish accommodations were beyond adequate but this obvious fact supplied me with no satisfaction. I gazed upon the priceless sculptures and paintings I’d collected over the many years of my existence and attempted to relax to the classical sounds of Debussy on my new phonograph record player. I’d hoped that its soothing effects might offer me some sense of content. No such luck. The relentless and all consuming tension continued to ooze straight through to my very core.

  “This is madness.” I muttered to no one but myself.

  I was lonely. I needed a confident. No, more than a confident, I yearned for an equal, but no such person existed in the human world. Humans are so entirely ordinary. They’re weak, fragile and mostly dim witted. I have yet to meet one that can hold my attention for more than five minutes. So, what am I left with? My companions have abandoned me in this wretched world and I am now all alone.

  I’ve attempted to procreate with human women and learned that my many efforts have been entirely fruitless. Something in my DNA does not bind correctly and conception is never realized. Our biological make up is just too different. If only there was a way to find a common thread.

  “Hmmm, I wonder…” A light bulb flickered in my noggin and I grabbed my coat and keys and sprinted to the New York City Public Library. “A virus… I can’t conceive a child with a human woman in the biblical sense but maybe I can give her… a virus. Maybe I’ve been looking at this from the wrong perspective.”

  I grabbed an encyclopedia off of the shelf and immediately began flipping through the pages.

  “Ah, here we go. Infectious diseases.”

  Definition of INFECTIOUS DISEASE noun

  : a disease caused by the entrance into the body of organisms (as bacteria, protozoans, fungi, or viruses) which grow and multiply there—see contagious disease, communicable disease

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” I smiled and began whistling a happy tune as I fingered the pages back to the C section. “Yes, yes, here it is.”

  Definition of CONTAGIOUS DISEASE noun

  : an infectious disease communicable by contact with one who has it, with a bodily discharge of such a patient, or with an object touched by such a patient or by bodily discharges—compare communicable disease

  “No, no this won’t due. I’ve had unlimited amounts of contact with humans and simple interactions or even intimacy has had no effect. It’s more complex than this.”

  Definition of COMMUNICABLE DISEASE noun

  : an infectious disease transmissible (as from person to person) by direct contact with an affected individual or the individual's discharges or by indirect means (as by a vector)—compare contagious disease

  “As by a vector...” I contemplated as my pinky finger guided me toward the back of the book.

  Definition of VECTOR noun

  1

  : a quantity that has magnitude and direction and that is usually represented by part of a straight line with the given direction and with a length representing the magnitude

  2

  : an organism (as an insect) that transmits a pathogen from one organism or source to another —compare carrier

  3

  : an agent (as a plasmid or virus) that contains or carries modified genetic material (as recombinant DNA) and can be used to introduce exogenous genes into the genome of an organism

  “An organism or an agent… Well, if it was simply a matter of a mosquito biting me and transferring my blood onto the next guy there would be Daevas milling around all over the world by now. That obviously hasn’t happened… but mosquitoes are very small. What if my blood was infused with the human’s blood in larger quantity? What then? I believe I am in need of a few medical supplies.” I smiled to myself with the first hint of satisfaction I’d felt in a long while.

  My suspicions proved to be true. After several rounds of trial and error I finally succeeded in infecting a human with out killing her. As usual, the human woman immediately became violently ill after I injected a vial of my DNA into her bloodstream. This time however, instead of dying shortly after the painful injection, she slowly regained her composure and strength and stabilized. I was fascinated to say the least. As I continued to observe the virus’s progress over time I stumbled across an unexpected discovery. The subject seems to be morphing into something hideous yet significantly more powerful than a human and the female now craves my same maddening desire to consume human souls as a means of no
urishment.

  “How are you feeling today, Clara?” I probed.

  “I feel much better today, but I’m still a little weak.” she admitted.

  I nodded my recognition as I made note of her progress. I’ve been keeping careful documentation of my experiment and now know the exact proportion of DNA necessary to make the conversion. A single percentage point too high is fatal and a single percentage point too low has no affect at all.

  I was so excited about my success with my first subject that I began experimenting further. After I captured and infected more humans using my new calculated dosage of DNA I was quickly dismayed when some of my new subjects expired. Why had some lived while others died? I was missing something very important.

  “I just can’t seem to figure it out, Clara. I’ve been over my calculations a dozen times and my math adds up so why did the others die?” I wondered aloud.

  “Perhaps it has nothing to do with the calculation and more to do with the physical or emotional state of the human. Perhaps those that died were sickly or physically weaker. Maybe their emotional state played a role. Were those that passed more fearful than the others?”

  “No, they were just more resistant than the others.” I realized. “… but you may have a point. Please interview the new subjects about their state of mind prior to the infection. Find out if they were scared or if they objected to the experiment.” I instructed.