Last Days (Last Days Trilogy #1) (11 page)

“Reggie,” Marcus hissed.

“What, Marcus?”

Rose returned with blue hospital scrubs. Devante seemed drawn to the color. “Clothing for me?”

“Yes.” Rose extended it to him, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

“Give them to Regina. I will take them only from her.”

“No,” Marcus said. “Rose. He’ll take nothing from her.”

“Rosemary.” Devante addressed her sternly and faced her, locking eyes with her. His voice lowered. “There are those whom you shall listen to. And there are those whom you shall not. Give the clothing to Regina.”

As if hypnotized, Rose walked over to Reggie and held out the clothes.

“Reg, no.” Marcus cautioned.

“Marcus, what’s the big deal? God!” She slipped from his hold and snatched the clothes.

“Do not say that,” Devante instructed Reggie. “You use the Lord’s name in vain.” His huge hand grabbed for the clothes, his fingers grazing over Reggie’s as he took them. “Thank you, dear woman.” Devante looked oddly at the hospital scrubs. “What kind of clothing is this?”

“The only kind that will fit you right now,” Reggie said.

“Reg,” Marcus scolded. “Knock it off.”

“She means no harm.” Devante tilted his head at the pants, then awkwardly stepped into them. “I wish for you to speak to Regina only in respectful tones.” He pulled the drawstring on the pants, then put on the shirt. He looked up at Rose and John, who were staring dumbfounded, and asked, “Why is there so much confusion amongst you? Can it be doubt? Do you doubt my existence... or who I am?” He walked slowly around. “Do you think your puny minds brought me here?” He smiled. “Do you, Dr. Leon, not yet realize that all the attempts to stop this, to take your life, were halted to protect my arrival?”

“I was lucky,” said Marcus.

“You were spared and guarded,” said Devante, pointing his finger at Marcus. “Protected so you, Dr. Leon, could open the door for me to step through.”

“Mistakes are made every day.” Marcus said, eerily calm.

“Such hatred,” Devante said. “Such doubt, denial and anger from a man whose mother exudes Christianity with every breath. Though she did interfere with Regina’s affections for David.” He looked at Reggie.

Reggie’s mouth dropped open. “What? Are you psychic?”

“I am more than that.” Devante stepped back.

“David?” Marcus spun and faced Reggie. “The computer guy?”

“Marcus? He’s leaving.” Reggie pointed.

“Huh?” Marcus turned and saw Devante moving toward the door. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t leave. John, shut that door.”

“John, do no such thing.” Devante requested softly, then turned back to Marcus. “Why do you not want me to go? I have work to do.”

“You stay right here.” Marcus commanded.

“You have given me life, Dr. Leon, you have provided the doorway for me. For that I owe you my deepest gratitude. But my arrival in your world has significance. I have come unto a world filled with hatred, fear, doubts, greed, war, death.” He turned to Rose. “Rosemary, tell Dr. Leon why I am here.”

Rose’s mouth flapped open and closed a few times until words finally emerged. “It’s the end.”

Devante shifted his eyes to Marcus. “Why am I here, Rosemary?” he asked louder.

“To save us,” Rose said.

“I have work to do.” Devante moved toward the door. “Regina, I will find you.”

Marcus stepped forward. “What work do you have?”

“Did you not hear, man, what Rosemary said?” Devante questioned.

“I’m hearing the words of a frightened woman,” Marcus shot back.

“You hear the truth and you know it. Why would you hold me from my mission? Why do you not want the people of your world to be saved?”

Marcus laughed. “Saved? By you?”

“Your disbelief saddens me. You should be filled with praise and wonder,” Devante said. “Do not doubt me. I am who I am said to be.” He pointed to Tom. “Is that man’s return to life by my hand not proof?”

“It’s proof, all right.” Marcus nodded angrily. “But of what, I’m not exactly sure.”

Peacefully, Devante lowered his head, and then slowly, raised his eyes. “You are forgiven for that.” He turned and stepped to the doorway once more.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Marcus ordered.

“You cannot stop me.”

“Want to bet?” In one swift motion, Marcus swept his lab coat aside and reached into his waistband, pulling out the revolver. He planted his feet, clicked back the hammer, aimed and fired.

The gun filled with a hissing whistle. The pellet cartridge seared into Devante’s back.

The large man took one more step, looked back at Marcus, and toppled to the ground.

John, who stood in front of him, stepped out of the way as the big man fell to the floor. “Dr. Leon, you shot Christ.”

“It’s not Christ.” Marcus raced over and crouched down to Devante’s inert body. He felt for a pulse. “It’s slowed, he’s out. John,” Marcus looked up to him, “get a hold of Captain Hayworth downstairs. Tell him to call in two more guards, we’ll need them posted in front of the special room.”

“Yes sir.” John backed up and hurried away.

“Tom,” Marcus called out. “Come here.”

“I can’t believe you did this.” Tom bent down. “I can’t believe you knocked him out. I was dead. He brought me back... and you treat him like... like he’s evil.”

Marcus raised his eyes.

“I’m a man of science,” Tom continued. “But I’m scared for you. This is...”

“No it’s not!” Marcus argued.

“Then explain what happened to me,” Tom said.

“I can’t.” Marcus shook his head. “I can’t.” He saw Rose glaring at him. “Rose?”

“You shouldn’t have done that. Why would you stop him? You know why he’s here. Oh, Marcus, you saw him bring Tom back to life.” Rose brought herself closer to Marcus. “Maybe you should look at who we cloned. How the cloning process went. Marcus, is it right to keep him here?”

“Rose, please, listen to yourself. I mean no disrespect.” Marcus peered at Tom. “Yes, yes, I do. I’m sorry. But I just can’t believe what you two believe. I can’t. Reg?”

Across the room, seeming apprehensive, Reggie uttered, “Yes?”

“I need...” Marcus closed his eyes. “I need you to tell me something. Anything. You always know what to say.” Marcus looked over his shoulder at her. “Please?”

Reggie hesitated, and then swallowed. “I can’t. I’m really sorry, Marcus. I don’t know what to say.”

His heart jumped. Turning back, Marcus looked blankly on the prone figure of Devante. His thoughts scattered. Reggie’s loss for words worried him. He was more than just concerned, he was frightened.

They carried Devante to an average-sized room with a bed, desk, chair and a doorless entryway into a tiny bathroom. Arms folded, Reggie stood next to the bed and stared down at Devante’s still body.

“Please don’t stand so close,” Marcus said. He sat at the desk poring through a book.

Reggie rolled her eyes. “You want me to leave?”

“I want you near me.”

“What are you doing?”

“Finding answers,” Marcus stated in monotone, “to who he is.”

Reggie looked back down. “Marcus,” she said. “After exploding through two inch-thick glass, you think the restraint straps will hold him?”

“No,” Marcus answered. “One reason you might keep your distance. Supernatural or not, at least we know his body isn’t.” Marcus flipped a page. “If he tries anything, the guards have guns.”

“If you’re so worried about him, why are we here?”

“I’m thinking. And I’d hate to break my train of thought by moving.”

Reggie sighed. “If you’re interested, I have a few off-the-wall theories. Including a time machine link...”

“No,” Marcus shook his head. “Remember, he brought a dead man back to life.”

“I didn’t forget, but I have a hard time believing it.”

Marcus snickered. “Why not? You saw him do it.”

“Yeah, but I also saw David Copperfield make the Statue of Liberty disappear.”

Marcus brightened.

“What?” Reggie asked.

“You’re a genius. Thanks. An illusion. Yeah.” Marcus flipped the pages of the book.

“What are you talking about?”

“Devante, and the mental notes you just gave me.”

“Glad I could help. What’re you reading? A guide to cloning?” She raised her eyebrows. “Marcus? The Bible?”

“If I want to find out about Christ, where’s the best place to look?”

“It’s not Christ.”

“I know.”

“So why the Bible?” Reggie asked.

“Answers. Answers as to who... he is, or isn’t.”

“It can’t be Christ, Marcus.”

“I agree.” Marcus said. “The scientist in me won’t accept a cloned Christ, nor that I captured His spirit. Nevertheless, that clone
did
form unnaturally. And I watched him revive a dead man. I heard him speak.” Marcus paused, puzzled. “Reg, he speaks very much like the biblical Christ...” He drifted. “...but our Devante is seven feet tall. If Christ were that big, like Goliath, wouldn’t they mention it in the Bible somewhere? He’s a big boy.” Exhaling loudly, Marcus closed the Bible. “I have to stop for a while.” He looked over at Devante. “He should be out for another six hours. My mind’s spinning.” Marcus stood.

“Everyone’s is. Except your crew. They all know he’s God,” Reggie said dismissively. “Of course that doesn’t make them any less scared.”

“Maybe I should see how they’re doing.”

“I think you should.” She moved toward the door with him.

“You have an answer for everything,” Marcus said.

“No, I don’t.” Reggie stopped at the threshold. “I just know what to say to make you feel better. But, Marcus,” she reached out and lay her hand on his face, “sometimes there aren’t any answers. Things happen with no explanation. They just do.”

“Not in my book,” Marcus said. “There’s
always
an explanation. I just have to figure it out.” Peeking back once more, Marcus closed the door. “And, trust me, I will.”

In the clerical office of the laboratory wing, a trembling Rose cried in fits as she spoke on the phone, her mouth inches away from the receiver. “I didn’t expect this,” she sobbed. “He confirmed it. We’re faced with the end. He has to do His work and He’s being prohibited.” Rose shook her head and wiped her eyes. “No. You should hear him speak, see him. There’s no doubt in my mind who He is. And we’ll pay a heavy price, Rev. Bailey, if He isn’t allowed to fulfill His mission. People have a last chance to mend the errors of the past. Yes,” she nodded, “that’s why I called, you must use your influence. You must. Rev. Bailey, I’m...”

Marcus jerked the phone from her hand and finished her sentence; “...fired. Pack your desk up immediately. Security will escort you out. You’re off the team.” He turned to leave.

“You can’t do that!” Rose jumped from her seat. “I’m just trying to...”

“You just breached the confidentiality clause of your employment contract,” Marcus explained, “not to mention your ethics. You leaked vital information to a man who is more a TV star than a man of the cloth. No arguments, Rose. Go.”

“You’re wrong,” Rose stuttered, her voice rising. “Not for firing me, but for oppressing our Savior. You’re facing damnation.”

Marcus chuckled. “Damnation? Savior? Come on, Rose, you’re a scientist. Savior? This is not you talking. You were there for every step of the process that created Devante.”

“I also know why He’s here. It’s the end. And you, Marcus, might be responsible for it if you don’t let him out.”

“No, I won’t,” Marcus said calmly. “He’s a scientific experiment, not the Son of God. If I believed that, then my soul would be as good as damned.” He paused. “You believe what you want. I believe science and reason. The end, you say? Yes, it is. To your relationship with Westing. Good night, Rose.” Marcus turned again and stepped to the door. “Guard.”

Marcus heard a groan behind him. He turned to see Rose snatch up some scissors from the desk, clutch them tightly, and raise her arm. In one fluid motion she rushed and lunged herself at Marcus, screaming madly. “I won’t let you do this!”

She leapt onto Marcus’ back, one arm crooked around his neck. With the other she plunged the pair of scissors deep into his shoulder.

Marcus grunted in pain, trying to shake her off, but she held on with every fiber of her body. Marcus stumbled under her weight.

Wrenching the scissors out, Rose readied for another strike as blood spurted from the puncture wound. Before she could, Marcus reacted. He moved backwards and rammed his assailant against the wall. Rose smashed into the plaster. Screaming in pain, she released Marcus, and slid to the floor.

“Guard!” Marcus yelled. He reached down with his good arm and grabbed the scissors from Rose’s hand, tossing them aside. He then took a jacket from the coat rack and used it to cover the wound.

The guard burst in, looking about the room, and then rushed over to Marcus. “Are you all right, sir?”

“Yes.” Marcus nodded, panting, woozy at the sight of his own blood.

Rose stared up viciously and said, “You should be the one going down, not Christ.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Marcus shook his head. “Guard, restrain her and call the police. She needs a dose of lithium.”

Cringing as the guard neared her, Rose propped herself up using the wall for leverage. She turned to the window. “No!” She pointed a finger at Marcus. “He will cause our demise,” she shouted. “I won’t be around to bear witness!”

Before the guard could read her intention, Rose charged full-force across the office, lunged toward the window and hurled herself through it, glass exploding in her wake. The gathered crowd below burst out in screams of horror as she sailed out and down ten stories.

Marcus ran to the window and peered out. People were milling around Rose’s twisted and lifeless body. He stepped back, unable to look anymore.

In the examination room, Marcus’s black tee shirt was starting to mat with drying blood. Mixed with amniotic fluid, it emitted a sour smell that made him nauseous.

Waiting on John to help fix his wound, he grew impatient, wanting only to return to his apartment and Reggie. Downstairs he heard the commotion of police and press milling around.

John, his lab assistant, walked in, followed by one of the police officers.

“Everything all right?” Marcus asked.

“Wow, Dr. Leon,” John exclaimed, his eyes on Marcus’ bloody shirt. “Are you okay?”

“Sir,” the plainclothes officer said, “maybe we ought to take you to the hospital.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Marcus said. “John can treat me. It looks worse than it is. Doesn’t even hurt now. John, everything’s ready for you.” Marcus indicated the tray of supplies. “Then,” he sighed, “I just want to go home.” He sat down on a stool.

John nodded and went to the sink to scrub.

Another officer approached. “Dr. Leon, I’m Detective Stewart. Chicago Homicide. I spoke to the guard. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Simple. I walked into the office and found Rose divulging confidential information over the phone. I fired her. She was outraged and attacked me. I called for the guard.”

“Was there any kind of argument first?”

“Some.” Marcus looked over at John.

“So, how did she end up on the floor?”

“She jumped on my back and was stabbing me. I had to knock her off. I hate violence.”

“I see.” Detective Stewart jotted a note. “Was there any indication of suicidal tendencies previous to this incident?”

“She thinks... she thought,” Marcus corrected. “She thought the world was ending.”

John was behind Marcus, pulling on his gloves. “She’s right,” he said. “Dr. Leon, take off your shirt, please?”

“Now,” Detective Stewart continued, “the guard stated that he heard her say something about it being ‘All your fault,’ Dr. Leon. And while he went for backup, he heard the glass...”

“Wait. What?” Marcus halted him. “The guard never left. He was in the room the whole time. He didn’t call for backup until after Rose jumped.”

“Sir,” Detective Stewart looked at the notes. “The guard stated he was not in the room at the time. He heard the glass and Rose’s scream...”

“Rose didn’t scream.” Marcus lifted off his shirt. “Well, she did when she stabbed me.”

John fingered a square of gauze. “Where is it, Dr. Leon?”

Marcus pointed to the hole in his shirt. “Right here.”

“I don’t see a wound, sir.”

“What?” Marcus tried to look at his shoulder.

Detective Stewart stepped closer. “No wonder it doesn’t hurt. Looks like she didn’t stab you, doctor.” He closed his notepad. “You won’t be leaving the city, will you?”

“I don’t have any plans to. Why?”

“We’ll be in touch.”

“Damn,” Marcus cursed. “Just swell. Like a bad movie. I get stabbed, Rose takes a dive, and I’m a suspect?” He put his finger through the bloody hole in his shirt and held it up to the door. “Hey, explain this!” Marcus called again to the now departed detective. “Shit.” He looked back over his shoulder. Dried blood, but no puncture wound. “Damn it. What happened to my evidence?”

“Him,” John said, with a dazed look, touching the shirt. “This is the same shirt you were wearing when he awoke.”

“So.”

“It was soaked with amniotic fluid, his... the same water he laid in for a month.”

Marcus stared at John, dumbfounded.

“Oh, dear God, Dr. Leon. His water healed you.”

Marcus tried to smile. “Healed? I see. So the amniotic fluid is now holy water?” He shook his head and stood up, shirt in hand. “Funny.”

“Why question it, Dr. Leon? You were stabbed; your wound is gone. Why are you such a doubting Thomas?”

Marcus pried John’s hand away from his shirt, then raised his index finger. “Doubting Thomas… would’ve made a good scientist.”

“What does your gut tells you?”

“I don’t listen to my gut.” Marcus moved toward the door. “And you shouldn’t either. You’re a scientist. You should know...” Marcus paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. “John...”

“What’s wrong?”

Marcus quickly looked at the shirt. “John.”

“What?”

“John.” Marcus’ hand tightened around the shirt.

“What, Dr. Leon? What? I should know what?”

“The knowledge of John,” Marcus whispered, then glanced at his colleague as if at a ghost. “I have to go. Thanks for taking care of me.” He backed out of the room.

“But I didn’t…” John called.

The biblical John echoed in his mind on his way back to his apartment. John
did
know. Rightfully so. Marcus felt he knew why, and understood what he had to do. Mind racing, Marcus passed his turn in the hall, and then retraced his steps. He walked into his apartment to find it was oddly clean and quiet. He found Reggie passed out on the couch. Marcus decided not to wake her. He stared at her for a moment, then tossed his black shirt at the hamper and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Marcus stood under the water for at least twenty minutes, deep in thought, trying to steam out the vision of Rose hurling herself through the window. He wanted to feel some renewed pain, but couldn’t. Absently, he glided his soapy hand over his skin, feeling nothing. Marcus winced.

After his shower, he put on pajama bottoms relieved that he felt better and didn’t smell anymore. In the kitchen he filled the tea kettle and placed it on the stove. As he turned on the burner his eyes fell on the book on the adjacent counter.