Last Days (Last Days Trilogy #1) (3 page)

Marcus raised his head to scratch the bridge of his nose, and saw Dr. Bennet’s look of concern. Bennet was on the phone in the back of the moving limousine.

“I see,” he said. “As many as needed. Cost is no option. Thank you.”

Marcus waited until Dr. Bennet set the phone down. “Problem?”

“Yes. At the institute. A few protestors.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Already? I was only on television an hour and a half ago.”

“The BBC showed the announcement about forty minutes ago.”

“It can’t be all that bad.”

Dr. Bennet shrugged. “It could get worse. A lot worse.”

“I’m not calling it off.”

Dr. Bennet smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.” The limo slowed down. “Driver, why are we stopping?”

The driver looked over his shoulder. “I have to, sir. The protestors….”

“Protestors? What?” Dr. Bennet peered out the window. “We’re still a block from the institute. How can that be?” A loud smack against the window startled Dr. Bennet back toward Marcus. “Scratch that question.”

“Can we get to the doors?” Marcus asked, as angry hands slapped against the car.

“Security is supposed to be waiting,” Dr. Bennet replied.

“They’re violent.” Marcus felt the vehicle rock. “I thought you said a few protestors.”

“A few hundred.”

“It’s a scientific experiment, for crying out loud,” Marcus said. “Don’t you think they’re overreacting?”

The driver looked back as he stopped the car. “Get ready, sirs. The escorts are here to help you in.”

Marcus grabbed hold of his briefcase and scooted to the door. The moment it opened, hands reached in, accompanied by thunderous shouts. “This is insane.” Marcus muttered. Six guards readied to help them through the crowd attempting to deflect the protestors with their large bodies.

Marcus stepped from the limo with Dr. Bennet directly behind. Everything blurred as the guards tugged him along faster than he could walk. Faces jumped forward from the crowd. Cries and curses, words like “Heathen” and “Blasphemer” rang in his ears.

Marcus moved with the guard toward the institute’s main entrance. As he passed the security barricade, he glanced over his left shoulder and saw an arm reach out from the crowd, as if in slow motion. Marcus unconsciously stopped at the base of the stairs leading into the building, and stood motionless, paralyzed with fear. Less than seven feet away, a handgun was pointed directly at him.

The bearded gunman holding the gun had leapt past the two guards blocking his way, separating them. “You want to meet our Lord,” he growled at Marcus. “Meet him the right way.”

The man pulled the trigger just as he was jolted by the crowd, his body spun to the left, his arm lifted at an angle as the gun went off.

Blood splattered out hard and violently as the bullet hit Dr. Bennet squarely in his left cheekbone, killing him instantly.

Panicked, deafening screams rang out from the crowd. Marcus’ vision blurred from the warm blood that covered the right side of his face. It was all happening so fast, like a dream. He wasn’t even aware he was still being escorting until he heard the doors shut behind him and lock. That was when he realized that he was safely inside the institute.

“Dr. Leon, this way.” A man tugged him.

Marcus shivered out a breath and raised his hand in objection to the man pulling on him. He wouldn’t budge. He had to take a moment, absorb what happened. It was insanity and Marcus was in shock. Setting down his briefcase, he swept his forearm over his face, pulling it back red and damp.

Marcus moved his lips trying to speak as he took a step toward the front doors. The reality of his simple two sentence announcement had sunk in. He expected outrage, even uproars, but not this. The crowd’s muffled cries seeped through the institute’s secure doors. He watched the chaos through the tiny, double-thick glass. People flung themselves at the doors, trying to get in, the blood smeared glass squeaking as they slid against it.

Staring out, Marcus blinked slowly and spoke in a daze. “My God, what have I done?”

As soon as she walked into her father’s shop, Reggie was greeted with plumber pants syndrome, a condition caused when the bare backside creeps up past the waistband. She felt guilty about her preconceived notions of Herbie. She felt worse when her father was kind enough to call at work to tell her he’d watched Marcus on television. Then he called again to ask her to stop by the garage to meet the “great new guy.” Of course, after the second call to the diner, Charley scolded her to get a cell phone like every other man, woman, teenager and child in America.

Inside the shop, Reggie didn’t recognize the rear end squatting before the Andersen car. Nor the extremely wide body that went along with it. The man sanded the car’s front end, seemingly in his own world.

“Reg!” Kyle called out.

Reggie turned to see her father wiping off his hands, smiling, headed her way. “Hey, uh, Dad.”

Kyle raised his eyebrows a few times, twitching his head toward the squatting man, grinning all the while. He tapped the new guy on the shoulder. “Hey, Herbie, Reg is here.”

Reggie closed her eyes, determined to be cordial. After all, she thought, looks aren’t everything.

Herbie shut off the sander and tugged at his pants as he turned from the car. His hair, a dirty and straggly brown, stuck to his face. He wiped off his hand before extending it to Reggie. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Reggie smiled pleasantly.

“Your dad says we have a date on Friday night.”

Reggie’s eye widened. “Dad?”

“Dinner and a movie.” Kyle waved his hand. “Not a date, Herbie. What did I tell you? Two new friends going out. Two lonely friends going out.”

“I can pick you up.” Herbie nodded. “If you give me your number.”

“I don’t like talking on the phone,” Reggie replied.

“I can text you.”

Kyle groaned. “Reg doesn’t have a cell phone.”

“Why not?” Herbie asked. “You afraid you’ll get brain cancer.”

“She’s afraid of the cost,” Kyle stated.

“Dad.”

“Oh,” Herbie tossed out his hand in a wave. “Bargain Mart has flip phones for nine, ninety-nine. I should get you one.”

Kyle gave a swat to Herbie’s arm. “That is so generous. Isn’t he generous, Reg.?”

“I suppose.” Reggie replied.

“And...” Herbie nodded. “I just finished the body work on my 1979 Lincoln Continental. Looks good. It’s big.”

“I see.” Reggie nodded slowly. “Herbie, this is awful short notice. It’s Wednesday, I think I might have to work...”

“Nope,” Kyle interrupted. “Checked with Charley.”

Reggie continued. “Then I have to find a sitter for my...”

“I’ll watch Seth. Hazel and I have no plans.”

“Who?” Reggie looked at her father.

“Marybeth. I call her Hazel now. She cleans my house.” Kyle nodded. “Anyway. It’s all set. Get back to work, Herbie.”

“Yes, sir.” Herbie nodded, bent down to the car like a drone, and picked up his sander.

“Dad,” Reggie grabbed his arm and pulled him away from Herbie. “What are you doing?”

“Making you go out.”

“You just hired him. You don’t even know the guy. What if he’s a rapist or something?”

Kyle snickered. “He’s Marybeth’s nephew from Wadsworth. I’ve known him for a while. Great personality. Hell of kid. And you can’t tell right now, but funny. Boy, is he a card. Makes me laugh. And Reg....” Kyle leaned into her. “You should see how fast he pounds out a dent.” He whistled. “Business is going to triple with this guy.”

“Good for you,” Reggie said. “Can you at least make him get a haircut?”

“So you’ll go?”

“Why not,” Reggie said defeated. “Maybe he’ll make me laugh. I hope to God you didn’t tell him I was easy.”

“No.” Kyle shook his head. “I believe ‘lonely’ was the word I used.”

“I am not lonely,” Reggie snapped. “I’ve dated.”

“In high school. Reg, you need to get involved with someone. Everyone needs that.”

“I don’t.” She took a moment to calm herself. “Besides, I can’t fathom getting into any kind of physical relationship with him. Nice or not, there are limits. He must weigh four hundred pounds, Dad. He’ll squash me.”

“Squashed sex is better than no sex.”

“I’m going home.” Reggie started for the door. “I’m the only woman in America who gets pimped by her father.”

“Reg!” Kyle rushed to her. “Seriously. You need companionship. Forget whirlwind romance, you need someone to connect with; to share things with.”

Reggie snickered. “Listen to you.”

“I’m not kidding. When your mom left me, I swore off women. Not that I contemplated turning gay, mind you...” Kyle smiled. “But I swore off relationships. I had you. But the older kids get, the less they need you. Unless, of course, you have a thirty something daughter who won’t get the hell out of your life.”

“I love you.” Reggie kissed her father on the cheek. “But, I won’t be lonely in my old age. I’ll have Marcus. Lord knows he can’t keep a wife.”

“That’s because Marcus only gets married to get laid. And after today….”

“Dad.”

“Think about what he’s trying to do….”

“Are you serious?”

“Until this thing gets out of the news. There’s going to be problems. This is big, Reg, really big... and offensive.”

“You’re frightening me.”

“Me too, kiddo.” Kyle nodded.

“I better get going.” Reggie looked at her watch. “Seth will be home soon. Thanks for watching Marcus today.”

“I thought I watched Seth.” Kyle grinned.

“Ha, ha, ha. See you.” Arms folded, Reggie walked from the shop. She froze when she heard her father yell out, ‘Hey, Herbie, you’re on for Friday. But you better cut that hair if you want to get lucky.’

In amazement, Reggie shook her head and moved on.

The cloth, seven feet long, three feet wide, lay on a table, surrounded by ultra-violet lights and isotopic equipment. The technicians wore sterilized clothing and latex gloves, looking to prevent even the slightest harm come to the cloth.

Marcus prepared to do the honors himself, his hands finally steadied from the episode outside of the building. Phone calls, thousands of them, had poured in, none of which he took. Emails flooded his inbox, all of them demanding the same thing; for him to reconsider what he was about to do. Somehow they even found his social media accounts and flooded them. No one could have imagined the magnitude of the uproar that ensued within hours of the televised announcement. But it happened. And it was undoubtedly just the beginning. The multiple bomb threats were summarily dismissed, as Marcus was on borrowed time with the cloth and it would take him a while to perform the task.

He felt Rose approach him from behind as he stood at the back counter. “We’re ready Doctor.”

Marcus nodded and turned around. For a second, he thought he saw a faint glow coming from the cloth as it lay upon the table, hemmed in by a team of eight. It was just the lighting. Historically the cloth had gone from sacred to an artifact. Many believing it wasn’t as old as it had been claimed to be. While many still believed it had spiritual and religious implications. Whatever the case, the cloth was valuable and Marcus was honored to have it. He would find his own answers to the cloth in his own way.

He took a breath and leaned over it, seeing – as if for the first time – the image of a man, outlined by the special lighting. Marcus knew exactly where he would concentrate his sampling, the right side of the image, where the stains were heaviest. He shifted to that portion of the cloth and positioned himself, checking the adjustments on his equipment that would magnify, record and play back his work in real time. Everything was ready, including Marcus. He felt like a surgeon attempting the most delicate of operations. And, in essence, he was. A surgeon with only one chance to create a life.

“Six foot,” one of the male assistants whispered.

Marcus looked up as he pulled his stool closer to the cloth. “What was that?”

“Six foot,” James, the male assistant, repeated. “Rose asked how tall this man was. Dr. Leon, what do you think?”

“I think that’s a hard call to make, considering that the cloth could have stretched or shrunk.”

“Shrunk?” Rose snickered. “Imagine how tall he was if it shrunk.”

“Impossible,” James stated. “Men weren’t that big back then.”

“Oh yeah?” Marcus questioned. “Who do you know that was around two thousand years ago? Or whenever this cloth is from. Besides, it’s absurd to try to ascertain an individual’s height by the average of those around him. Today the average male is five-foot-nine. So explain Andre the Giant. Kareem Abdul-Jabber. The size of this cloth is no indication of the size of the man whose image is on it.”

Rose smiled. “Just like the size of a man’s hand is no indication of the size of his...”

“Rose,” Marcus interrupted, and then shook his head “All I’m saying is that we don’t know. And we’ve never known for certain the height, weight or appearance of anyone that far before our time.” Marcus looked up. “Until now.”