“That’s it, Ben. Timing is everything. Go forth, son, and make God proud.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
The phone went dead. Ben put it away. He didn’t care if he made God proud or not. All he knew was nothing would give him more satisfaction in life than to help Rebecca Spencer’s worst nightmare come true. Ensuring the election for Joel Spencer would do just that. She deserved this and more, for all the wrong she had done to him.
*
Lisa pulled into a parking space at her apartment at a quarter to two. She had no idea where Rick had been when he sent the text message.
She quickly stepped to her door while fumbling in her purse for a tube of lipstick. There would be a hot pair of shiny red lips waiting to greet him.
A single stargazer lily was beautifully displayed in her mailbox door slot. He’s so sweet.
She unlocked the door and opened it. “Hey, Rick, I’m here.” A bouquet of lilies tastefully arranged in a glass vase rested on the kitchen counter.
“Oh Rick, they’re beau—”
An arm reached around Lisa’s chest. A leather-gloved hand came up and covered her mouth. She felt a sharp pain stab into her neck. Within seconds the strength in her arms dissolved. The man’s grip was strong. But at that point he could have released her and she still wouldn’t have been able to lift a finger to fight back.
The numbness sank down into her legs, traveling to her feet. He let her drop to the floor.
Lisa lay on her side, fully conscious, with the barest amount of control above her shoulders.
The man sauntered around Lisa’s helpless body and came to a stop inches from her face. She could see nothing but the black of his boots, and then a glove entered her field of vision. Her eyes focused on a roach squirming to free itself from the fingers.
“Peek-a-boo, I see you.” The man laughed, moving the insect closer for its antenna to explore her nose. “He likes you. No real surprise. These things are attracted to garbage.”
Lisa made a frantic attempt to pull her face away, only to have the thing dropped on her forehead, and scurry across her scalp.
“Well, well, well. The time has come,” the man said, his voice slightly muffled. “I hope you don’t mind. I let myself in.” Keys jingled in the background. “You should have invested in a security system. Keyed locks are easily defeated these days. I have a master for every brand.”
Lisa struggled to speak, fighting with all her might to regain control of her body. She managed a groan, unable to form a word.
“Really, don’t embarrass yourself like that. You sound like a bigger babbling idiot than usual.” The man walked away toward the kitchen.
Lisa watched his backside. He was dressed in combat boots, old jeans, a black leather jacket, and gloves. The syringe remained in his right hand, and oddly enough, he had a motorcycle helmet on his head.
He turned and faced her, planting his hands on his hips after raising the visor. “You know, it didn’t have to end this way. Things would have been far less dramatic had you taken one of the offers we made you.
“But no. No, you had to poke the eye of opportunity. All the while you wallowed in self-pity because you couldn’t accept that God has power over the clay. To make one a vessel of honor, or dishonor, as He chooses.”
“Wh . . . who?” Lisa managed to say.
“What? Who? Who am I?” The man paced back and forth with his head down and raised his hands. “Who am I? Why, I am Rex! A lover of life. A craver of sensation. A hedonist unparalleled. Seeking to fill every pore of want and desire.”
“Wh . . . why?” Lisa said.
“My, you’re doing much better under the drug than I expected. I only wanted you to be conscious for the ceremony. I didn’t expect a two-way conversation.
“But since you asked. I am here to die.” Rex put his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “Yes, I’m here to die. But not in the way you may think. Allow me to begin to unravel the mystery by offering a little show and tell.”
Rex brought his hands up to his helmet and removed it from his head.
“H . . . H . . . Hatf . . .”
“Field, Hatfield. You can still call me Reverend. One day others will know me only as Messiah.”
Will Hatfield let the helmet fall to the floor and removed his jacket. His chest bulged under his T-shirt, and his arm muscles gleamed, fit and well-defined. A youthful glow radiated from his face.
“I am here with two objectives in mind. One is to end your miserable imitation of life. The other is to shed all the wanton ways my flesh still craves in one last act of sensual release.
“What you don’t know is that the hand of God is upon me. Through His divine plan, my body has undergone treatments to make it ready to accept immortality. A few hours ago I received the elixir that will change all of humanity forever. Resurrection X!
“The angels have taken the messenger of Satan in the form of alien DNA and reconstructed it into the altering power of God. The tree of life has once again come down to Earth. All shall one day eat of its precious fruit.”
“No,” Lisa said.
“It’s true. I can feel my body changing by the minute. My metamorphosis will be complete in a few hours. I will no longer age as the healing powers of the alien DNA will keep me whole. And I will no longer have the desire for food as the light from the sun and stars shall provide me with nourishment for billions of years to come.”
Hatfield paused, lowered his head, and narrowed his eyes. An evil grin formed on tight lips. “But now—now my carnal side is warring greatly with the new power trying to smother it. I’m so hard I’m afraid I’m about to bust out of my jeans.” Hatfield squeezed his dick through his pants.
“Did you like the flowers? I brought them from a funeral I spoke at this morning. I thought they were too pretty to die unappreciated at a gravesite. I thought they would be appropriate for your demise.”
Hatfield unlaced his boots and stripped down naked. “Not bad, huh?” He posed as if modeling at a body-building contest. The head of his dick bounced against his stomach when he moved.
Hatfield picked his jacket off the floor, reached into the pocket, and removed a vial. Then he squatted by Lisa’s feet and removed her shoes and panties. Moving by her head, he picked up her hands, and dragged her across the carpet onto a rug. With some effort he removed her dress and bra.
“I’ve heard of tan lines, but you look ridiculous. What? Too cheap to put makeup on anything other than exposed skin? I thought you wanted to be accepted as normal? You’re nothing but a cheap imitation of a real person.”
“No . . . no don’t,” Lisa said, eyes frozen open.
“I’m sorry, but it is your destiny,” Hatfield said, holding up the vial. “See this? After I sow my last seed of lust, I shall return you to the fate Satan saved you from. A drop or two in your mouth and you will no longer be able to breathe. Then I will slowly cut your head from your neck, just to make sure. God will be your judge after that. But don’t worry. You won’t be lonely. I’m going to send as many of your kind to join you as fast as I can.”
Hatfield ran a slow glaze across her naked body. “You are one fine looking piece of ass.” He knelt by her legs and lifted them, then maneuvered his body between her thighs. With her feet on his shoulders, he licked her ankle, and rubbed his face on her calf.
“Pig . . . sl . . . ime . . . buck . . . et.”
“Shut up!” Hatfield pushed her legs down so her knees were close to her ears. He shoved his rock-hard cock into her. “Oh yes. That feels good. Too bad you can’t feel it. I’d have you begging for more. Yes, that’s right.” He began to thrust his hips slowly.
Lisa tried to spit on him, but her lips would not cooperate.
“Fuck me, Reverend Hatfield. Fuck me harder. Yes, that’s right. You’d be begging me for more. You would be on your knees shoving your ass all over me. Wanting to feel my cock inside you.”
“Fuck . . . you.”
“You always did h
ave a nasty mouth. But you sure do have the sweetest pussy.” Hatfield let out a groan.
“Forgive me, Lord . . . forgive me.” He moaned loudly again.
“Get off . . . me you . . pig . . . .”
Tears rolled down Hatfield face in his repentance. “I have sinned against You, my Lord, and I would ask that Your precious blood would wash and cleanse every stain until it is in the seas of God’s forgetfulness. One last time. One last time.”
Every breath inhaled and exhaled heaved loudly. “Forgive me, Lord! Forgi—” Hatfield gasped and bucked his hips, freezing in place has his body quivered.
With a low moan he fainted, and fell on top of Lisa, his head lying next to hers.
*
It was a good day. Joel Spencer cancelled his two appointments for the afternoon and decided to celebrate by taking a ride on his motorcycle. All of his plans were in motion. He had no doubt God would see them through.
His cell phone rang. It was Margaret calling. He answered, “You back?”
“Well, hello to you too.”
“I’m busy. I’ve had a rough day. Are you back from your treatment or are you still at the hospital?”
“My treatment is over. That’s not why I’m calling,” she said, her tone of voice very businesslike.
“Why are you calling then?” Joel’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Remember when I told you I’d found a new doctor? Well, what I didn’t tell you is I also found a new lawyer. One who was out of state and didn’t have your political hands wrapped around his throat. He’s been reviewing the legal papers for Rebecca’s inheritance when I die. Joel, your signature is not on the agreement.”
“What? What in the hell are you talking about? You were right there when I signed it.”
“Your legal signature is not on the agreement. I gave him other samples of your signature. What you signed for Rebecca’s inheritance doesn’t match. What are you trying to pull?” Margaret’s voice rose in anger.
“Me? I’m not trying to pull anything. What are you trying to pull?”
“Stop it! I’m not going to play stupid games with you. The lawyer is here in town. I’m in his office. You need to drive over and re-sign the papers.”
“This is bullshit. I don’t have time. Fuck off.”
“Joel, listen carefully. If you’re not here within the next hour I’m going to the press with my story. I have photographs. My black-and-blue face will be on the front page of the newspaper tomorrow, and you won’t even be elected dogcatcher.”
“I think your new treatment has affected your sanity.”
“Insane or not, if you don’t come my lawyer breaks the story.”
“Okay, I’m coming. Let’s get this over with. I’m going over the agreement with a fine-toothed comb to make sure you didn’t make any changes.”
“Take all the time you need. Just come now.”
“All right. Where are you?”
“Downtown, four forty-three Sagebrush, where it intersects with Oak Post. Go to the top floor. There is only one door for you to pick, so you can’t miss it.”
“I’ll be there,” Spencer mashed the end icon on the phone. “Bitch!”
*
The police officer escorted Ben to the rope line near the front where Representative Rick Poundstone would soon make his entrance. Ben shuffled along with his face toward the ground, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.
James Hodges shifted his gaze away from Ben when he arrived. Hodges moved over to make room as Ben ducked under the rope and stood next to him. The police officer strode away as if he had more important things to attend to.
Ben glanced up at Hodges, who had his attention focused elsewhere. He wondered what had changed for Hodges to become part of a conspiracy that would end the career of a long-time friend. He had even asked Joel Spencer more than once to explain that to him when the plan was first introduced. All Spencer would say was, “It’s God’s plan,” or “God works in mysterious ways.”
There was a plan, it was mysterious, but Ben didn’t believe it had anything to do with God.
*
Joel Spencer arrived at his destination forty-five minutes after receiving Margaret’s call. There was plenty of parking in front of the building, so he pulled right in, and got out of his car. He hoped there would be no surprises and he could sign the papers and be on his way. A couple of hours of light would remain to squeeze in a peaceful afternoon ride.
The elevator door was open and waiting for a passenger when he entered the building. His steps echoed in the vacant lobby across the marble floors. Once inside the elevator, he selected the sixth floor, and mumbled under his breath, “Fucking bitch.”
On the street outside, a flatbed tow truck slowly backed up to the front of Spencer’s car.
*
The SUV carrying Rick Poundstone pulled up one hundred feet away from Ben and Hodges. Ben glanced up again at Hodges, who met his gaze, and gave him a reassuring wink.
Wearing a big smile, Rick stepped out the SUV, and raised both hands to the crowd. An estimated two thousand were in attendance. Some supporters lined the walk leading to the outside theater, where others already sat, waiting for the main speech.
Rick turned to the cameras as lights flashed all around. Two security guards stepped in front leading the way as he approached the eagerly awaiting crowd.
Hodges leaned over the rope and gave a wide wave to Rick. Rick acknowledged him with a nod and a smile as he went down the line shaking hands.
Ben slipped the ring on his middle finger and removed the plastic guard from the two short needles.
A security guard passed in front of Ben, then Rick’s hand appeared before him, heading straight for Hodges. It seemed as if events were in slow motion to Ben. He reached up and clasped Rick’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. The two needles injected a numbing agent first, and then followed with the original strain of alien virus. Ben quickly let go of Rick’s hand and returned the plastic guard over the needles.
Rick grabbed the hand of his old friend, James Hodges. “James. I’m so glad to see you. Thanks for coming.” Rick glanced uneasily at Hodges’s gloved hand.
“I’m with you all the way, Rick. All the way back to Washington,” Hodges grinned. He didn’t meet Rick’s eyes, and his hundred-watt smile wavered.
Ben backed away and slipped stealthily through the crowd.
Rick looked down at his hand and slowly flexed his fingers. His face contorted into a grimace. He turned his hand around and examined his palm. His eyes lit up, and he screamed in pain.
A young woman reached out toward him, and he stepped away. The two puncture marks in his palm oozed blood. His jaw dropped as he clutched at his right arm and fell to the ground. One word eeked past his quivering lips. “Spencer . . .”
*
The elevator doors opened, and Joel Spencer stepped out onto a short hallway. Margaret was right; there was only one door for him to choose, and he certainly couldn’t miss it.
He almost grabbed the door handle to let himself in, but hesitated. He didn’t want to seem disrespectful by barging in. It might cause some friction and delay him from making a quick exit. So, he gently knocked and waited for the door to open.
Siegfried Wagner’s face appeared as he opened the door. “Mr. Spencer! It certainly is a delight to have you with us this afternoon.”
Spencer raised an eyebrow and wondered what kind of game this lawyer would be playing.
“Won’t you please come in?” Wagner said.
Lowering his head, Spencer stepped through the doorway as Wagner slowly backed away to allow him passage.
A familiar face popped up alongside Wagner.
“Mack? What are you doing here? Did you drive Margaret?” Spencer asked.
“As a matter of fact, I did. She’s right over there putting on a bib,” Mack said, gesturing toward her and a small group of people.
“A bib? What in the hell? Margaret! What’s happened to you? You
r face?” Spencer felt his heart plummet to his knees.
“It’s a result of my new treatment. And guess what? It worked! I am totally cancer-free,” Margaret said.
“But your skin—it’s without color. You’re a Sub Y,” Spencer said. “But how? That’s not legal.”
“That’s a minor detail you shouldn’t concern yourself with, Mr. Spencer. Instead, you should rejoice in the fact that your wife is cured of her cancer, and will live for many, many years to come,” Wagner said. “Won’t you join us for a bite to eat? I’m sure the answers to all of your questions will become self-evident before our bellies are full.” Wagner winked, ran his tongue slowly across his lips, and patted his belly.
Spencer turned and ran to the door. It was locked.
Mack’s mouth started watering as he called over his shoulder. “You ready, honey? I know you haven’t had any of the hunger yet, but try to have an open mind. You don’t have to eat much if you don’t want to. You just have to taste it.”
“Why delay the inevitable?” Margaret said. “At least this time it will be me chewing ass. This is one knuckle sandwich I might enjoy.”
Boisterous laughs arose as Joel pounded his shoulder against the door and pulled frantically on the handle.
“Too bad Jarvis is going to miss out. The chop shop is forty miles away. It’ll take him a hour to get Spencer’s car over there. I’ll have to save his favorite part, a thigh. It won’t be as good as fresh. Sometimes you have to take it any way you can get it.”
*
A gold nametag pinned to a freshly pressed shirt proudly proclaimed its wearer, Andrew W. Wells, as Warden of the North Dallas Non-Dead Institution. His advancement had come as a reward for his valiant efforts in defeating the attack of the renegade road crews, his years of service at the Institution and the military, and by default. Andy was the highest ranking officer left alive.
Autopsies had shown evidence of the tainted ATP on the crew members skin, though no one currently understood how it got there, or exactly how it worked on the Non-Deads’ systems. Cain was the main suspect, and what could have possibly motivated him to ruin a lifetime of achievements so close to his retirement was unknown.
Resurrection X Page 27