Last Days (Last Days Trilogy #1) (9 page)

Marcus stood holding his tablet, watching a video of Rev. Bailey on a talk show. An interview Reggie told him about, said she’d love to show him to cheer him up, but didn’t record it. He had to remind her things were easy to find online. After a quick search he located it and eyes glued to the screen, Marcus watched, listened, and took notes.

Rev. Bailey represented the flip side of the science-versus-religion coin, a view of Marcus’ project from outside of the laboratory window. A view Marcus rarely took in.

Since Reggie left a month before, the December weather had been perfect, not just locally, but in the Northern Hemisphere worldwide. Gardens and crops, long since harvested, bloomed and flourished anew. In his closed laboratory world, Marcus gave this news only passing interest. Until he began to see them in a new light, the light shed by the eccentric little preacher man.

Rev. Bailey did say some ridiculous things, even implied he was booking Marcus on his highly rated Sunday service show. But he listed their differences clearly. Rev. Bailey reiterated the undeniable world situation, the weird weather, then made his conclusion. The cause? One cause. The clone.

“Unnatural” was the word Rev. Bailey used. Unnatural was the word Marcus repeated to himself frequently. Though the two men agreed on the word, they were worlds apart in their explanations. Rev. Bailey’s retreated into religion, Marcus into science.

But deep down, Marcus was torn between the two more than he wanted to admit, as he furiously jotted down notes. Inside, he was fighting to stay on the side of science and eschew his heavy religious upbringing. But he was stuck. Truly stuck.

The concept of God being behind the bizarre changes was wholly illogical. He suspected the explanation sat firmly between science and religion – or beside it, a third side to the coin.

But what was it?

Marcus sank deeply into thought as he watched the video. A shot of an audience member wearing a green and red shirt reminded Marcus what day it was.

Pausing the tape, Marcus checked his watch. It was time. With a smile, Marcus picked up the phone and dialed the long awaited, and he hoped, perfectly timed phone call.

Reggie answered on the second ring.

“Merry Christmas,” Marcus said.

“Marcus.” Reggie swung her feet from the coffee table. “Tell me you’re calling from home.”

“Reg, I can’t be home. You know that.”

Reggie frowned. “Still thinking that Jesus will be reborn on Christmas.”

“Ha, ha, ha, funny. You know I have a gut feeling.” He paused. “Hey, guess what? I gave the clone a name.”

“What?” Reggie asked. “Joe, Bill, Leo?”

“Devante,” Marcus said. “It’s a derivative of the word, ‘Advent,’ meaning ‘the coming’. Speaking of coming... did you get your present yet?”

“The UPS guy brought the box of gifts I’m supposed to hand out tomorrow.”

“No,” Marcus said, “yours is separate. Should be there now. That’s why I called.”

“Is it big?”

“You could say that. It’ll fill your nights. You won’t be so lonely.”

The doorbell rang. “Someone’s at the door. Maybe that’s it.”

“Get it. I’ll stay on the phone.”

Reggie stood up as the doorbell rang again. When she opened the door, she found a man, about thirty, nicely built, handsome, dark haired. “Yes?”

“Hi, Ms. Reggie Stevens-Edmunds? Dr. Marcus Leon sent me.”

Reggie’s mouth dropped open. “You? Oh my God, Marcus,” she giggled, “it’s the best gift. So original. I see what you mean by filling my nights.” She smiled and covered the phone. “Are you going to strip?” she asked the man.

He chuckled good-naturedly. “No.”

Reggie grinned. “Come on in.” She stepped back. “Marcus, he’s perfect. But why would you get me a man?”

“A man?” Marcus snapped. “I didn’t get you a man. I got you a...”

“Computer?” Reggie watched as the man pushed in a dolly with two boxes. “A computer, Marcus?”

“Well, more than that. It’s a bunch of stuff to get you out of the dark ages. Computer, a tablet, smart phone.”

“A smart phone? What’s it do? Answer itself?” Reggie laughed at her own joke.

“That joke’s been told a million times, Reg. It’s easy. More with the times than the flip phone.”

“Marcus, the flip phone is still in the box. I haven’t figured it out. The smart one better be smart.”

“Well,” Marcus said. “Everything will be very easy after your set up and lessons. The guy is making a special trip to get you up and running, show you how to use them and get you situated with the Wi-Fi.”

“I don’t have Wi-Fi.”

“Yeah, you do. Your dad told me. He got it so Seth could play his video games.”

“I have internet?” She looked at the computer guy. “Hey, I have internet.”

“Imagine that,” Computer guy replied.

Reggie returned to her call with Marcus. “How is this supposed to fill my nights?”

“Wait until you discover the online slots. Plus. I’m always online. You can talk to me even when I’m working. And text. You need to learn to text, Reg.”

Reggie watched the guy unload boxes “This is so great and expensive. I feel bad. I only got you a set of black T-shirts.”

“Well, it’s my gift, too. I’d like being able to communicate with you anytime.”

“Cool.” Reggie smiled. “Hey, Marcus? You think the computer guy can be my gift too?

“Reg,” Marcus said calmly, “stop hitting on the computer delivery man.”

“All right,” Reggie said continuing her survey of the man nonetheless, “I’ll stop. So, let’s talk. How’s what’s his face? Devante?”

“Progressing. You’ll see for yourself when you get here next week. You are still coming, right?”

“Yes. Our Christmas.”

“Good. And speaking of Christmas, I have to go; everyone’s leaving for the holidays and I have to man the lab 24/7 for the next two days. I don’t want to miss it.”

“You really think it’s going to happen on Christmas?”

“I feel strongly about it, yes,” Marcus answered.

“You don’t think it has anything to do with what you cloned?”

“It may. Or my fear of more controversy.”

Reggie smiled. “That’s funny. Controversy never bothered you before.”

“Reg, this is a scary kind of controversy. It’s not settling right with me. It even crossed my mind to abort the whole thing. But I just couldn’t.”

“It’ll be all right, Marcus. I promise you.”

“Yeah.” Marcus sighed. “I have to go. I’ll call you in a bit to see how you’re progressing.”

Reggie laughed.

“With the computer, Reg. Not the computer guy.”

“Call me if it happens.”

“You know I will.” Marcus paused. “Fingers crossed it will be nothing more than a quiet Christmas Eve.”

Soft Christmas music played in the observatory lab that Christmas Eve night, praising voices singing
Silent
Night
and
Away in the Manger
as Marcus munched on a bologna sandwich. He sat before a computer in the lab itself, away from the observing office, chuckling at Reggie’s crude attempts at texting. But he enjoyed it since, in a sense, he was sharing Christmas Eve with her.

The Christmas songs began to get on his nerves. He stood up abruptly and paced over to the other computer that played the music. Before he reached it, he sensed a change outside. He opened the blind to see, not the usual, screaming protesters, but masses of people holding candles and singing. Marcus’ first instinct was to open the window and yell at them all to go home and spend Christmas with their families. He was almost nostalgic for his old nickname of ‘Heathen boy.’ Now, thanks to Rev. Bailey, Marcus was known by a new title: The Deliverer.

The beep of the phone brought Marcus back for Reggie’s return text. In transit he paused to look at the large artificial womb that contained Devante.

Devante hadn’t grown in eleven days. He remained a long figure with partially formed body parts, his heartbeat was a steady sixty beats per minute. No movement. No sound. Except the hypnotic quiet of the effervescent bubbles enveloping him.

Marcus returned to his computer. He wished he were home. But he couldn’t be. He knew the minute he stepped out the door, the clone would pull another miracle, finish forming and awaken. Marcus wouldn’t leave, no matter what, until he saw the end results.

“Anything yet?” Reggie’s message read.

“You have got to be kidding.” Marcus spoke out loud. “Seven minutes and this is it. It’s text, not pony express.” Marcus simply typed, “No.” He folded his arms waiting to see her message. Reggie responded faster.

“Sorry it’s taking so long. Wrapping, you know. It is Christmas for us Christians.”

Marcus snickered and typed, “I’m Christian. Sort of.”

No matter what, Marcus had always made it home for Christmas. He never realized how lonely a person could feel being by himself on the biggest holiday of the year. A part of him hoped that everyone could pack up and come to visit him the following week. But it wasn’t in the cards, he knew. Marcus recalled how tough it had been to get Reggie out of the institute and home safely; a visit from the whole family was out of the question. But at least Reggie was coming to stay for five days, no less.

The repeated beep and ‘Marcus?’ drew his attention back to the phone. “Sorry,” he typed.

“I have to go. Seth will be up early. We’ve done this message thing for four hours.”

Marcus checked the time. “Shit.” He said. “Sorry,” he typed quickly. “You go on. Call me tomorrow? Night Reg.”

Marcus got up. He was still hungry and figured he could slip away for some food at his apartment. As he turned and moved toward the door, his phone beeped again. He lifted it and a peaceful sad smile graced his face when he read the words from Reggie. “I love you and miss you very much. Merry Christmas, Marcus”.

Marcus ran his thumb across her words. “Merry Christmas, Reg,” he whispered.

The tag said, “To Aunt Rose, from Marcus,” in red and green. Reggie pulled a wrapped present from one of the huge UPS boxes and handed it to Marcus’ elderly aunt who sat on the sofa of the Leon home.

“Thank you,” Rose took the small package and felt it judiciously. “Tea towels. Bet me its tea towels. Ain’t got tea towels in a while.”

“Maybe,” Reggie said, knowing they weren’t. Tea towels weren’t offered on the online retailer where Marcus did all his Christmas shopping.

“Oh, look, how pretty.” Aunt Rose lifted a long silk scarf and a pair of driving gloves.

From his chair, George looked at Rose, eighty-four years old, then over to the box of gifts. “Now when does my son think she’s going to wear driving gloves? And me a pen? What do I do with a pen?”

“It’s a nice gift,” Reggie defended.

“You can use it for your crossword puzzles,” Kyle offered.

“Hmm.” George stared at his pen in a new light. “What did he get you, Kyle?”

“Whiz socks,” Kyle replied. “You wear them with boots. Keep your feet warm. New material, shiny and thin.” He nodded.

“Shiny socks, a pen, driving gloves, he got his mother a certificate to candles of the month.” George shook his head. “Last year he got me golf clubs. I don’t even golf. His sister a year’s worth of tanning appointments,” George chuckled. “What’s going through that boy’s head at Christmas time?”

“Thinking white,” Kyle stated.

Marybeth, Kyle’s proper girlfriend, grimaced and tapped Kyle on the leg. Softly, she stuttered, “N-n-now. Kyle, sweetheart. Please. That sounds so ugly and racist.”

Kyle tossed up his hands. “We’re family, we know. You haven’t met Marcus, have you?”

“No,” Marybeth stated. “He’s always out of town.”

“Well, let me describe Marcus for you.” Kyle looked at George. “May I?”

“Be my guest,” George said.

“Marcus is, hmm, maybe five foot nine. Nice looking. No facial hair. No sports ability. He can’t dance. Subscribes to
Architectural
Digest
. Wears a pocket protector, always has.”

“Daddy,” Reggie interrupted. “No, he doesn’t and never did.”

“Oh hell, yes, Reg,” Kyle smiled. “Wasn’t until recently that he quit wearing button down shirts.” He looked back to Marybeth. “Now he only wears black tee-shirts. Probably has two dozen of them. Always pressed. Always hung up. Tee shirts.” He paused, smiling. “If that isn’t bad enough, he watches golf and fishing on television.”

Marybeth stifled a giggle and covered her eyes. “Kyle, please.”

“Marcus is just versatile,” Aunt Rose said as she tried on her silk scarf and gloves. “No one’s like Marcus.”

The doorbell rang.

Reggie jumped up. “That’ll be my gift from Marcus. I’ll get it.”

Eliza appeared in the living room as Reggie made her way through the maze of kids and guests. “Marcus is having Reggie’s gift delivered here?”

Kyle shrugged. “Came yesterday, actually.”

Moments later, Reggie returned from the foyer arm-in-arm with David, the computer guy. “Everyone, this is David.”

Aunt Rose smiled. “Isn’t that sweet. Look at the handsome man Marcus got Reggie for Christmas. Didn’t get me one. I’d a taken him too.”

George stood up and extended his hand to David. “My son got you for Reggie?”

“Not really,” David smiled. “He got her a laptop, iPad and phone. I was there to hook her up… um, rather, it up.”

“I see.” George cleared his throat, eyebrows raised. “And I got a pen. An iPad?”

“And computer.” Reggie turned to David. “You already met my father. This is Marcus’ mom, Eliza. Eliza, I should have told you he was coming.”

“We’ve always got plenty on Christmas.” She shook David’s hand. “Nice to, uh, meet you. Will you excuse me?” Eliza scooted from the room.

Kyle quickly followed. At the kitchen door he heard pots banging, then was almost run over by two fleeing cousins and Eliza’s sister. Kyle walked in, unafraid. “I can tell Reggie to have him leave, if you’d like,” he offered.

“I never mind company on Christmas. Never.” Eliza kept her back to Kyle.

“Nice looking guy that David.”

Eliza slammed a pot.

Kyle jumped. “All right, Eliza, what is it? You’re mad.”

“No.” Eliza turned from the stove, her arms folded. “Not mad. Maybe dejected. It’s just... well, Marcus,” Eliza sighed, “never had a relationship, marriage or not, last longer than a year. Reggie’s the only stable woman he has. I was kind of... well, with Reggie finally coming out of her shell, you know, Herbie was that first step. Thank God for Herbie. I was hoping, with this blasphemous clone thing in Marcus’ life, and the trouble he’s going to face...”

“Eliza, you’re rambling. Spit it out”

Eliza threw Kyle a scalding look. “Don’t be upset about this. But I was hoping that finally Marcus and Reggie would be together.”

“Why would that upset me? And, I think your Marcus is thinking that way. He called Reggie up last month and asked her to have his baby.”

Eliza’s eyes grew wide. “No. Kyle Stevens, you wouldn’t be telling me this to make me feel better now would you?”

“No. It’s the truth. Called her up and said, ‘Reg, have my kid’. She was up for it, too, but something happened, I don’t know.” Kyle shrugged. “But now, there’s this computer guy... Eliza?” Before Kyle knew it Eliza had picked up a plate of cookies and hastened to the kitchen door. “Where are you going?”

“Snacks.” She grinned ear-to-ear, backing into the kitchen door and humming
Joy to the World
.

“Cookies!” she announced, as she set the platter on the coffee table. “And, Reggie, you eat up, sweetie. You’ll need to...” Eliza paused, and then added, “...with you and Marcus making me a grandmother soon.”

Eliza continued humming in the resultant silence and headed back to the kitchen.

Kyle stopped her as she passed him in the dining room. “Merry Christmas?” he asked, and then looked at the stunned computer guy.

“Merry Christmas,” Eliza said.