Majestic

by Unknown

  He reached over to the night table and picked up his watch, the face of it illuminated clearly by the glow emanating from his hands. Three in the morning. He knew he’d gone to bed around 10:00. What woke him? The glow?

  Willy rubbed his front teeth—suddenly they hurt like hell. He never had dental problems, so what was this all about?

  The glow was getting brighter now, and he was afraid that Helen might wake up. He shoved the sheet aside and eased his feet down to the cool hardwood floor. He walked out onto the landing, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He splashed some water on his face, and then immediately turned around and headed out the back door, pulling his studio keys off the hook on his way out.

  He had no idea why he was doing this in the middle of the night. He just knew that he had to.

  Willy opened the door and went into the dark studio. He flicked on the lights and went over to a large block of granite that was sitting in a corner.

  Looking down at his half-naked body, he could see that the glow of light had dissipated, but he was mildly surprised to see that his skin was once again transparent. It had come back.

  He rationalized that the CAT scan must have triggered something, something that wasn’t as simple as just the temporary reaction he’d had at the hospital. Almost like ‘muscle memory,’ his body itself had a memory—a memory of something that happened sixty-five years ago, and it wasn’t going to forget all that easily.

  At that moment, in his studio, Willy resembled a skeleton once again. It didn’t scare him as much as it had a couple of weeks ago in the hospital. In fact, even that time hadn’t frighten him all that much, not like it had when the weird phenomenon happened to him in Korea. He had been warned then that it could happen again, but he’d stupidly ignored the warning.

  In the hospital, he’d been more horrified than scared. Horrified that other people had now seen him in that state, particularly Helen and Wyatt.

  Back in November, 1950, at the American hospital in Seoul, South Korea, he and his four men had been examined thoroughly. They’d been transferred there by helicopter from the MASH unit in the field. Doctors were puzzled, and with good reason. Medical schools didn’t train them for this.

  But, after a few days, other doctors arrived—ones that did seem to have some training in this, or at least some understanding. That was the impression that Willy and his comrades had. They were a very serious medical crew—didn’t talk very much. Just probed a lot, stuck needles in them, and injected them with some kind of dye. Then, the soldiers were subjected to radiation, as the doctors studiously watched on a monitor as the dye seeped through their veins.

  The transparency condition had subsided by the time they’d arrived in Seoul, but it came back again. Willy got the impression that was exactly what the doctors wanted. The low levels of radiation they were being subjected to brought it back.

  After several days of tests and observation, the five of them were taken to a conference room. Already seated around the table were three doctors and four senior officers of the United States Marines. One was a general and the other three were colonels.

  They asked them how they were feeling and made notes. There was very little compassion or regret for what had happened to them. It was more just clinical—very official, very businesslike, very ‘military.’

  The general finally spoke, and he was the last person in the room to speak before the five soldiers were dismissed and cleared for action back in the field again.

  He told them what to expect. Willy had no idea how he seemed to know what they could expect, but it dawned on him that this had happened before. They’d seen this before, somewhere, sometime. The man knew what he was talking about. There was no hesitation, no doubts, and no ‘maybes.’

  He spoke slowly and deliberately, looking them in the eyes, moving his gaze from one to the other.

  “You have each been subjected to the power of a very unique infiltration weapon. It was from an enemy force that has injected itself into this war, and it’s a weapon that we have no defense against.

  “Please be assured that you will suffer no ill effects on your quality of life. We can’t help you any more than we already have, but you are not in any danger. That’s the first thing you need to know. The weapon does not seem to have had the intent of killing, it was more likely designed to warn us, scare us, and intimidate us. Or, perhaps, this enemy didn’t really know what effect it would have.”

  Willy raised his hand respectfully, indicating that he wanted to ask a question. The general raised his hand, too, palm facing forward, indicating that he wanted Willy to shut up.

  “No questions will be allowed. You will each just listen and be silent.

  “This weapon infiltrated your bodies and changed your genetic structure. It was not radiation that you were subjected to, be rest assured of that. However, radiation seems to be what will set off reactions. The infiltration has a defense mechanism, almost like antibodies.

  “As you know, when you get sick, your body produces antibodies to fight off infections. In this case, with what has infiltrated your bodies, radiation poisoning triggers a reaction similar to an antibody reaction. Your body fights off the radiation, and the extremely gruesome reaction it produces is the end result of the defense mechanism. Think of it almost like swelling—when you get swollen glands, that’s simply the antibodies that are fighting the infection in your glands. The antibodies cause the swelling, just as they also cause fever when you’re sick.

  “In your cases, transparency and the glow surrounding your bodies was the symptom of the defense mechanism working. It seems as if this extreme reaction is only triggered by radiation. Other infections in your bodies do not trigger this at all.

  “Over the last few days, we have introduced certain bacterial infections to your bodies. You weren’t aware of this, because nothing happened to you. You didn’t swell, you didn’t get fevers, and you didn’t vomit. This is because your antibodies weren’t working. They no longer need to work for normal everyday illnesses. You have a silent defense mechanism in your bodies now which kills infections virtually instantaneously.

  “The only time this defense system seems to not be so silent is when you are exposed to radiation. That, and only that, triggers an extreme reaction such as what you have seen.

  “This may be confusing to you—because I started out by saying that this weapon did not use radiation against you. I assure you, it didn’t.

  “What happened is similar to what happens when you first get a polio vaccine. You have a slight reaction, maybe a swelling in your arm or a small fever. Then, those symptoms fade, and you are protected for life. This infiltration weapon caused similar symptoms—which have now faded. We triggered them again just to test the radiation theory, but other than that you have no lingering effects from the weapon. Basically, you were ‘vaccinated’ in that culvert in North Korea.

  “We don’t know if that was the enemy’s intended outcome with this infiltration weapon. As I said, they may not have known what the weapon would do. But, that seems to be the outcome, and you now have it with you for the rest of your lives.

  “There are a few other things you should know. We predict that there will be a ‘fountain of youth’ element with this infiltration. Your bones will remain strong and will resist the normal weakening that comes with age. You won’t get arthritis and you won’t suffer loss of bone density like the rest of us will.

  “More remarkable than that, though, is that your muscular system will undergo incredible strength bolstering. We’ll call it ‘Hero Syndrome’ for lack of a better phrase. You will find that, as the years go by, your strength will increase. But, it won’t be the same for each of you. It all depends on your original genetic structure. As I said, it's been altered now, but by how much depends on your baseline when you were born.

  “There are some more things that you need to know. Your teeth will be incredibly durable, and you will also never go bald. You may, unfortunately, have already not
iced some rawness on your tongues. That will keep getting worse…until it doesn’t anymore. But, you will be left with scaly tongues. That is something that will not revert.

  “You each may find that certain talents will become noticeable, talents that you never had before and never would have imagined. It could be anything at all—mathematical prowess, or musical skills. Artistic tendencies, or athletic excellence. Or…there may be nothing at all. Again, it very much depends on your original DNA ladder.

  “Listen to me carefully, now.

  “You must never breathe a word of this to anyone. You must hide these side effects and never, ever, allow yourselves to be exposed to x-rays. You’ll never need them anyway, so it would be a moot point for you to even undergo an x-ray.

  “Mr. Carson, you’re an officer, so we can trust that you’ll exercise your obligations in this regard. You other men are not currently officers, but because of what you have endured, we are elevating the ranks of each of you to lieutenant, effective immediately.

  “In addition, in recognition of your brave service and for what you have experienced, we are depositing one hundred thousand dollars, in each of your names, into Swiss bank accounts. You will not be able to draw from these accounts until the turn of the new century; so, the year 2000. Worth waiting for, and worth remaining silent for.

  “And, even by then, you will be restricted to no more than ten percent each year until death. Upon death, the funds will be collapsed and credited to your estates. You will be given the numbers to your accounts once you complete your tours of duty here in Korea, and the original principal and interest will be given a special exemption from income tax.

  “I must warn you that any disclosure of what has happened and what has been discussed in this room will invalidate the monetary agreement we have made with you. If you respect your obligations, we will honor ours to you. You are each university graduates—I don’t have to tell you what a hundred thousand today will be worth after being invested conservatively for fifty years. Do the math yourselves.”

  Willy did indeed do the math. He gasped—it would be worth about four million by the year 2000.

  The general stood, signalling that the meeting was over. Willy and his comrades got to their feet as well, stood at attention, and raised their right hands in salute.

  The general saluted them back. “Gentleman, I’m sorry about what has happened to you. But, it isn’t all bad, is it? Let me just remind you of one thing. Your genetic makeup has been altered permanently. If you haven’t already sired children, I don’t have to tell you that your new genes will be passed on in varying degrees once you do propagate. That depends very much on the priority of the mother's genes, compared with yours. Nature is unpredictable.”

  Willy snapped out of his daze and found himself standing at his workbench, fingering his powerful rock saw. He plugged in the extension cord, pulled on his goggles, hefted the saw over his shoulder, walked over to the chunk of granite sitting on the floor in the corner, and turned on the machine. With the skill of the incredible artist that he was, he began to create. He didn’t know what he was creating, his hands just moved the saw in cadence with the signals coming from his brain.

  As he worked, he once again thought back to that day sixty-five years ago.

  And, to three years later when he’d returned stateside after the war.

  A time when he’d discovered he had a talent for art, sculpture in particular. Despite having struggled with silly little paper cut-outs or playdough in grade school, he had suddenly developed the ability to create incredible sculptures of virtually anything—but, particularly, the human body.

  He also thought back to one horrific day when there had been an accident on the freeway. Not thinking, he’d pulled his car over onto the soft shoulder and proceeded to lift the rear bumper of a Volkswagen three feet in the air, high enough for other rescuers to drag the mangled body of a little girl out from under the rear left wheel.

  Willy glanced at his watch. A couple of hours had gone by, and his skin had now returned to normal. The glow had completely disappeared as well.

  All that was left of the night was a beautiful piece of granite now carved into the shape of a perfect sphere. Well, except for the base.

  He knelt on the floor and, with both hands, easily rolled the heavy granite onto its side. The saw whirred one more time and he proceeded to shape the bottom of the chunk of granite to complete the effect.

  It was now a perfectly shaped ball, and he had no idea why he’d done this or what it was supposed to be. Except…a ball. A massive, heavy ball.

  Willy Carson unplugged his saw, removed his goggles, and put them back on the workbench.

  His final sobering thought before heading back into the house to rejoin his lovely wife Helen in bed, was to remember back to that romantic night forty-six years ago when their wonderful son, Wyatt, was conceived.

  Chapter 8

  The drive from O’Hare was always frustrating, but more so today than usual. Not only was it raining, but the traffic was horrendous despite being several hours before rush hour would even begin.

  She steered her Audi R8 onto an off-ramp, deciding she’d had enough. Side streets would have to suffice until she reached her home in the Trump Tower.

  Wabash Avenue seemed worlds away at this point, but she knew that on the back avenues her car would at least be moving, giving her the feeling of accomplishing something. It might take her just as long to get there, but in her mind she wouldn’t be so frustrated.

  It was bad enough that the flight from Atlanta International was both turbulent and late, but then the landing in Chicago was rough enough to tear the trunk off an elephant. Now, this infernal traffic. Some days everything went wrong—and, if it started out that way, it usually just continued that way.

  She zoomed her sleek sports car down a back alley, then onto a street she didn’t recognize, but didn’t care either. All she knew was that she was heading in the right direction because she could see the iconic Trump Tower off in the distance. It looked like she could almost spit to it.

  The powerful engine revved as she beat it through a yellow ‘caution’ light and sped along the next block.

  Then, she heard it.

  Just a quick burst of the siren, but enough to let her know that her day was going to suddenly get a lot worse. She’d been going at least twenty miles over the limit, and there would probably be no mercy. Especially considering who she was, and what she was driving.

  She pulled off to the side and the police car slid in behind her. Looking in her rear-view mirror, she saw him sitting there, talking on his radio, and punching ‘sweet nothings’ into his dashboard computer.

  Then, he was just there, rapping on her window. She rolled it down and smiled demurely at the young officer.

  The smile worked for most things, but she felt silly doing it today. It felt too obvious…and phony, and even kinda cheap. But, she did it anyway.

  It wasn’t the inevitable fine that bothered her, it was the demerits against her driver’s license. She already had a few and couldn’t afford any more or she’d be walking or cabbing it everywhere. Or, heaven forbid, public transit.

  She could tell that the officer was a bit flustered—her smile usually did that to people.

  It wasn’t necessarily the smile, but more the eyes. Her eyes were the most piercing blue color anyone could imagine, and it sometimes just caught people totally by surprise. They were so blue, they almost looked fake.

  And, with the dress she was wearing, her shoulders were exposed, displaying what she thought was a beautiful greeny-blue rose tattoo. Very tasteful, and very striking. Even though some of her closest friends told her it looked more like a cabbage than a rose, she didn’t care. It stood out from the crowd and that was important. Not being ‘ordinary’ was important in this world full of conformists. At least in her opinion it was important.

  “Ma’am, could I see your driver’s license and registration, please?”

&n
bsp; She already had them out of her purse and handed them to him.

  “No problem, officer. I’m so sorry…and so guilty. I’ve had a hell of a day. Rough flight in, scream-worthy traffic, and I just want to get home.”

  The young man smiled, and pointed to the east. “Home’s not too far away for you, I can see by your address.”

  “Yes, at least as the crow flies. But, about four more hours at this rate.”

  His face had a broad grin on it now, a silly Mad Magazine kind of grin.

  He then looked down at her driver’s license. “I have to ask you the official question. Is your name Allison Fisher, and do you still live at Trump Tower, 401 North Wabash Avenue, Chicago?”

  “Yes, officer, that’s me alright.”

  The grin came back across his baby face.

  “You own Diamond Hotels, don’t you?”

  Allison nodded slowly, a bit suspicious about his seeming obsession with who she was, more than about what she’d done. He must know already that she had several demerit points against her. Was this going to be a shakedown?

  “Yes, officer. If you could just write out the ticket, I’ll be on my way. As you could tell, I was in a bit of a hurry and still am.”

  He handed her documents back to her.

  “You’re free to go, Ms. Fisher. Just slow it down a bit, okay?”

  Allison was shocked. If anyone deserved a ticket, it was her. Speeding along a residential street, and a repeat offender at that.

  “Well…thank you. I didn’t expect this. You’re so kind.”

  “If I gave you a ticket, ma’am, you’d lose your license for a while. Your record is really bad, you know.”

  “I know it is. Oh, you’re just too kind.”

  “No, you’re the kind one, ma’am. My father is the doorman at Trump Tower. He talks about you all the time. How you’re the only one who actually gives him the time of day. And, that night last year when my mom was rushed to the hospital, and you drove my dad there yourself and stayed with him. He never forgot that…and neither did I. I was hoping I’d meet you one day, so this is just one of those nice coincidences.”