“I get it. You know, politics is such a huge game. You guys are better actors than those in movies.”
“True to a point. I don’t like to think of it like acting. To me, it’s salesmanship. I’m selling a product, and I have to make people want to buy it.”
“I thought prostitution was illegal?” Lisa snickered.
“Hey! I resemble that remark,” Rick said, feigning annoyance. He immediately turned his attention to the waitress as she brought the salads. “I had the one with the meat on top.”
The salads were placed in front of the patrons, and the waitress left.
“I used to be a real bitch when it came to Sub Zs serving me in restaurants. Now I feel sorry for them,” Lisa said, picking at the salad with her fork.
“It’s a sad situation we’re in, no doubt. But it’s the best solution for the time. Do you realize if we didn’t have them, a large number of Living would perish from starvation? We need their help just to have enough food to eat. The Living Party’s plan to eliminate the Non-Dead is one or two hundred years premature. Sure makes one hell of a campaign program though.”
Lisa put a bite of salad in her mouth and slowly chewed, gazing aimlessly around.
“What’s up. Something wrong with your food?”
“No, something happened yesterday afternoon that’s been weighing on my mind.”
“Someone hit on you when went to visit?”
“No. It’s, uh, personal—with a friend.”
“Male or female?” Rick stopped in mid chew.
“Female. My only real other friend, other than you.”
“Really. I didn’t realize you lived such a sheltered life.”
“My life’s a long story. Not meant for lunch chatter.” Lisa put her fork on the plate. “She’s going through a tough time in her life—emotionally. I wish I knew how to help her.”
“Anything I can do?”
“No. This is something that time will work out.”
“I’m sorry for your friend. But I’m glad you aren’t having guy problems.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’d be jealous,” Rick said matter-of-factly and stabbed a piece of tenderloin. He chewed with his gaze glued to her reaction.
Lisa didn’t hide the surprise from her face, nor could she stop the giddy smile that replaced it. “You just don’t say that to all your solicitors, do you?”
“You’re the first. You can trust me. I’m a politician.”
“And you suck as a comedian.”
“I’ll give you that. But I warn you, I’m a very good kisser.”
Lisa laughed. “A good kisser, huh? And how do you know that?”
“My mother told me.”
Lisa burst into laughter and brought her napkin up to cover her mouth. Rick smiled with a big piece of meat practically covering one of his front teeth. She lifted her hand and pointed, holding back her outburst as much as she could.
“What?”
“You . . . you’ve got some meat . . .” she said, trying to control herself, and pointed to her front tooth.
“Oh.” Rick lowered his head and scraped a nail along the front row of teeth. “There, did I get it?” He made a Cheshire Cat smile.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Poundstone.” A tall, aging man wearing a fitted blue suit stepped up to the table. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I have been waiting on your phone call.”
“Mr. Pinkston. So glad to see you.” Rick hopped up and shook Pinkston’s hand. “I didn’t forget about you. In fact, I was going to call right after I finish lunch.”
“I see.” Pinkston looked over at Lisa. “Tim Pinkston, pleasure to meet you.”
“Lisa Goudard. Nice to meet you.” She made no attempt to shake his hand, but tilted her fork toward him in greeting.
“Unfortunately, I’ll be tied up after lunch. Would it be a huge imposition if we talked now?”
“No, not at all. Lisa, would you mind if we—”
“I understand. Please go ahead.”
“Let’s go to the bar.” Pinkston patted Rick on the shoulder and waited for him to lead the way. He turned back to Lisa. “I won’t keep him long.”
Lisa faked a smile until he turned. “You better not,” she muttered to herself.
From her vantage point, she watched Pinkston order a drink and sit at the bar. Rick did most of the talking. Pinkston nodded his head every now and then. Lisa finished her salad and reached the bottom of her drink.
Pinkston slid off the stool and gave Rick a long handshake while patting him on the shoulder. There was no doubt he was pleased.
Rick adjusted his jacket collar, and before he could begin his walk back to the table, another man swooped in from the side and grabbed his hand. The man jabbered away, and Rick acted pleased to see him.
Rick looked over toward Lisa and raised his shoulders.
Two nicely dressed women got in line waiting their turn to meet the Representative.
Lisa threw her napkin in her plate and looked at her watch. She would have to leave in a few minutes or miss her next appointment.
Chapter 31
“Reverend Hatfield, I couldn’t wait to talk to you. I’ve made a breakthrough!” the voice of Scott Fenton buzzed over the phone headset.
Hatfield moved the phone away from his ear and winced. “It sounds like you’re about to burst over there. Why don’t you take a minute and compose yourself? I want to make sure I understand what you have to tell me.”
Scott breathed deeply into the phone a few times and exhaled loudly. “Okay, okay. I’m not entirely sure how it happened. Maybe it was a result of the initial gene therapy I gave to Byron and it mutated. Or perhaps the RZ drug he was given that transformed him into a Sub Z combined with my work and mutated. I guess it doesn’t matter how, but I finally spliced in a gene with his DNA that can produce ATP indirectly from light. I did that by manipulating the melanocytes in the skin. The function of the melanin in the skin produced by the melanocytes is to absorb UV-radiation and transform the energy into harmless heat. That’s to prevent indirect DNA damage that can lead to cancers.
“Instead of turning the UV-radiation energy into heat, the altered melanin converts the UV-radiation into energy a cell can use for ATP production. The ATP fuels the rest of the cell.
“Not only has that problem been solved, with the alien DNA, I can now restore telomere length during cellular reproduction, keeping it from reducing in length. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“I might be able to guess, but I would rather you explain it to me,” Hatfield said, and sat straight in his chair in full attention.
“We age because when our cells reproduce, the telomeres at the end of our chromosomes shorten in length. With this breakthrough, the cells will regenerate as exact copies of the previous healthy cell. Telomere length remains the same. Our cells will never pass on old age. There will be no reason for man to die!”
“How sure are you? How do you know the tests aren’t giving you false results?” Hatfield asked.
“I know I’ve only been working on this for the last two weeks. But it was almost as if the missing piece of the puzzle was waiting inside Byron’s blood. The gene reaction I needed happened instantly. I witnessed nothing short of a miracle! Reverend, everything you’ve said to me, everything I’ve come to believe is confirmed. The Spirit that has spoken to us both is real, and soon we shall bruise the head of the Old Serpent once and for all!”
“What about skin color and the other alien side effects to the body?”
“None. In fact, the cells show more vigor. Reverend, this may prove to be a true fountain of youth!”
“Praise the Lord. The day has come. The day has really come. You have Resurrection X.”
“I have Resurrection X!” Scott yelled at the top of his voice.
Hatfield moved the phone away from his ear again.
“Reverend? Sorry, are you still there?”
“I’m here. When will it be ready? As I have
been chosen to be the first vessel of immortality, I must get my house in order.” Hatfield cleared his throat. “After all, I might be found unworthy and lose my life in pursuit of our goal.”
“I’ll need some time to make enough for a treatment, several days at least. But I have the utmost confidence in this formula. I’d take it myself. I wouldn’t even hesitate to give it to my wife. So you know how sure I feel it will work.”
“I’ve never known you to be so confident, Scott. This goes beyond mere faith. The Spirit is speaking through you. Will you need any more of Byron’s blood to complete the project?”
“No, the DNA is replicating on its own. We’re finished with him. Why? Are you still concerned he might remember his past association with us?”
“I can’t help but wonder what’s going on in his head. When you gave Byron his medical exam before he came to work at the church—when you took his blood—there was something unsettling about the way his eyes shifted around. You know, like he was remembering something. Or trying not to.
“Now that he has shown signs of increased brain activity beyond a normal Sub Z, what if he remembers what we did to him? What if he tells his brother and he brings in some outside muscle and shuts you down? We can’t afford to let Byron get in our way before our big day arrives,” Hatfield said.
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I simply need to have a plan in place. I’m going to make a call. Keep me updated. Goodbye Scott. God be with you,” Hatfield said.
“Goodbye Reverend, and halleluiah!”
Hatfield hung up the phone. His fingers punched in Joel Spencer’s private number for his next call.
*
“Byron? What are you doing up there?” Rebecca leaned against a ladder in the hall not far from the Pastor’s office at Streets of Gold Church, eye level with a pair of Nikes, and looked up at a set of skinny legs.
Byron’s head and shoulders were past the ceiling. He was busy changing out the air conditioning filters. The ductwork connected all the rooms down the hall, including the Pastor’s office. It wasn’t until he had removed the secondary filter that he had heard Reverend Hatfield’s voice carry through the ductwork. He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop on the conversation, but when he’d heard his name, he’d stopped working and listened.
Rebecca pulled on his pants leg, reached underneath, and pulled a few leg hairs.
“Ouch! Oh, hey, Rebecca. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here,” Byron said, Hatfield’s words weighing on his mind.
“My classes are over. I wanted to see how your day is going,” she said, twirling her hair on her finger.
Byron set the new filters in place, latched the grill, climbed down the ladder, and met Rebecca, wearing a big smile. “Things are great. It feels so good to be back in familiar surroundings, even if it’s only during weekdays.”
“I still don’t get it. You’re good enough to clean the toilets around here but you’re not worthy enough to sit on a pew for church service. How can you stand to work for these hypocrites?” Rebecca said.
“I can’t explain it. I have this inner dedication for Reverend Hatfield. But there’s something else, something hidden I can’t quite remember. Something not right . . . a mystery.” Byron gazed into the distance.
“Well, you were part of that group my father belongs to. My mom and I called it the Suicide Squad, because you guys dressed like you were secret agents protecting the President, ready to throw your body in front of a gun to protect Hatfield. When you weren’t on duty at the fire station, you were within an arm’s length of the Pastor. Maybe he has some kind of mind control over you.”
Byron dropped his head. “I don’t know about mind control. But there was something special about being part of that group. I don’t remember. Come on, let’s go to the break room. I want to sit down for a while.”
“Sure, why not?” Rebecca waited while he folded the ladder and returned it to a maintenance closet, and then followed him up the hall.
In the break room, Byron opened the refrigerator, and pulled out two canned sodas. He offered one to Rebecca, who nodded. They sat at the table and opened the cans, escaping gas broke through the silence.
Byron pointed to the package Rebecca had put on the table. “What’s in the bag?”
“Something for later. What did you think about the N double A-N-D meeting last night? You seemed to be at ease around the other members.”
“Everyone was wonderful. They treated me like I was a real person. I had forgotten what that was like. I was bothered though by that Full-Zombie couple. Just at first. I mean, you wouldn’t pretend to be a cripple to make a handicapped person feel better, would you?”
“No, but they weren’t there to make you feel better. They dress that way as a dig to the Living who think they’re so superior to the Non-Dead.”
“Yeah, I realized that later on. But the Living are superior to my kind,” Byron said.
“Stop right now. Everyone—Living and Non-Dead—has limitations. Don’t lump all the Non-Dead together as being inferior and don’t think all Living are superior. Don’t sell yourself short,” Rebecca said, reaching across the table to rest her hand on his.
Byron felt the warmth of her hand reach inside him and touch a hidden part of his soul. Tears started to well in his eyes. He quickly took a sip of his drink and turned his head so she couldn’t see.
“Our Chapter of the N double A-N-D is in contact with the other Chapters around the country. We want to mount a new campaign using your story and the video footage of the fire to knock down the walls of prejudice, to push equality for all. Your story is going to go national,” Rebecca said.
“I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. There’ve been some new Army doctors come to visit me at the Institution. I heard a rumor they want to move me out of state and study me. I’m worried that once I’m gone I’ll never be seen again.”
“Oh my God, I didn’t know that was going on. You don’t think that’s possible, do you? Your brother’s a U.S. Congressman. He wouldn’t let them get away with that,” Rebecca said.
“If Rick weren’t my brother I’d probably be gone already.” Byron gritted his teeth. “Rebecca, if they come for me, I’ve decided I won’t go.”
“You won’t go? What does that mean?”
“It means no matter what I have to do, I won’t let them take me. Not at any cost.”
“I hope you’re over reacting. Your brother will be there to protect you. Still . . .” Rebecca took a sip of her drink, lost in thought.
Byron felt bad for turning into a drama queen and wanted to lighten the mood again. “You’re right. I’m probably just paranoid. Okay, time to play What’s in the bag.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened. “Oh, something I’ve wanted to do to you for a while. But you have to agree to it before I tell you what it is.”
“Do to me? What kind of talk is that?” Byron laughed.
“It’s something good. I’m afraid if I tell you what’s in there you’ll be too shy to go through with it. So if you want to know what’s in the bag, you have to promise me up front you’ll go along.”
“You bought me a G-string?”
“No, goofy. Guess again.”
“If it’s not a G-string I’m not interested. So there.”
“Well then, you’ll go the rest of your life never knowing the incredible treasure locked away in this bag.” Rebecca giggled.
“I don’t want to know,” Byron said. The moment Rebecca let her guard down, he snatched the bag off the table.
Rebecca jumped up out of her chair and grabbed onto the bag. “No! Not fair!” Then she goosed Byron under his armpit until he let go.
“Ouch, that kind of hurt,” he said.
“That’ll teach you. Now, last chance. Do you promise to let me use what’s in this bag on you?”
“Well, I really couldn’t care less. But, since it seems to be so important to you, I guess so.”
“Great
! Now remember, you promised.” Rebecca opened the bag and removed a jar of Creamy Natural skin toned ATP.
“Hey, wait a minute. You’re not going to put makeup on me, are you?”
“Yes, I am. You promised.”
Byron sighed. “Me and my big mouth.”
“I think it would be good for you to see yourself looking more like you did when you were a Living. You don’t need to stay in the mindset of us and them. Plus, I think you’re very handsome. Even if you have pale skin and raccoon eyes. But you’d look even better with some color.”
Another heavy sigh. “Okay. Go ahead, and get it over with.”
“All right!” Rebecca opened the jar and applied the foundation with a triangular sponge pad.
Byron contorted his face, imitating a five-year-old getting his face washed.
“Oh, it’s not that bad. Millions of women do this every day.”
“I’m not a woman.”
“I know, you’re a big, strong, handsome man. And a big, strong man ought to be able to handle a little makeup.”
Byron stuck out his tongue and licked some foundation that errantly made it to his upper lip. “Yuck!”
“You’re not supposed to eat it, silly. Stop that. I’m almost finished.”
“Oh please, oh please, oh please, let it be over.”
“Okay, there. Finished,” Rebecca said. “You’re such a ninny.”
“Thank goodness. Now what?” he asked.
Rebecca leaned back and admired her work. “It’s amazing what a little makeup can do. You almost look like how I remember you. Here,” she pulled a hand mirror from the bag, and held it up to his face, “see for yourself.”
Byron looked into the mirror and stared into infinity. His mind erupted—a volcano scattering thoughts like burning lava flying in all directions. His body felt as if it were launched into the air, climbing higher at super speed, until it slammed to a stomach-churning halt. It then reversed, falling, collecting the thoughts on the way, until nearly every memory he had possessed before his transformation had returned.
Resurrection X Page 22