Blake could hardly contain himself. He wanted to do to Eli what Eli had done to so many others. His emotions ran deep and his adrenaline was now running higher. As he stood there looking at Eli, he could see his first kill. His eyes wide open.
Both Eli and Charlie watched in silence as Blake began to transform. Charlie could see in Blake’s eyes the moment darkness first entered, and it was evident that Blake had walked over. He had entered the realm of hate and the power that the emotion of hate had over him had become stimulating.
“Blake,” Charlie yelled as he grabbed him. “Snap out of it, son. Let it go, boy. You don’t want to go there. If you succumb to the bowels of this destruction, you will be haunted for the rest of your life. Let it go, Blake; let it go. This isn’t you, son. You were not put on this earth to have blood on your hands. If you kill him, you will have no other choice but to become him.”
Despite Eli’s desire to be forgiven, he found enjoyment watching Blake transform from a man of grace to a man filled with the bitter stench of a calloused heart. As he watched, he tried to calculate how long it would take before Blake broke. Eli had not only seen this emotion before, he had provoked it, and since death was inevitable, he decided it would be an honor to die by Blake’s hands.
By the time Charlie was able to get Blake under control, he had broken into a full sweat, but Charlie still refused to let him go. He stood by him as he knew Blake’s own father would have done if he’d been there. Charlie knew that Blake’s anger, just as much as his pain, was rooted in the fact that he had once loved Eli as if he were his brother. Eli sat and watched the two men. As he watched, he allowed their experience to be his. He knew the life he had led was a life that Blake had no idea even existed.
“What do you want from me, Eli?” Blake asked again as Charlie held him in a reverse bear hug.
“I want forgiveness, brother,” Eli said, still holding onto the IV pole. “I want the forgiveness you say your God offers. I want to know that what you say is true. That the God you serve does not concern himself with the past or the future; that I can be forgiven for the harm I have caused. I want to know that when the windows of heaven open up, I will have permission to enter. So, can you forgive me, brother? And if you can, will you?”
Blake could no longer tolerate the space he was sharing with the two men. Without saying anything, he freed himself from Charlie and left. The only thing he wanted to do was return to DC and see Teddy.
Charlie knew Blake was in a place he had never been before, a place he wasn’t quite sure how to navigate. Despite what had happened, Charlie still believed there were no accidents, and if a stone-cold killer could repent and have the desire to ask for forgiveness, then there was nothing more to do but forgive. In his book, forgiveness wasn’t negotiable. It was the difference between living life on life’s terms or being stuck. All Charlie could do was pray that Blake came to the same realization.
Teddy woke refreshed. She couldn’t help but think about the concert Blake had put on. Even in her dreams, she’d been laughing. She couldn’t believe that Blake had two left feet. She was so grateful he was in her life and she couldn’t help but think about where she’d be if he hadn’t been there the night before. She’d known her spirit had been sinking and she hadn’t been able to regain the strength she needed to find her way, but he could, and he did for her.
Now she wanted him, too. But she just didn’t know what it meant to want a man. She had never experienced sexual confusion, but the more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to know him, to feel him, and to be held by him. At the same time, she wanted to run and hide from her feelings. She felt entangled by this strangeness, as if she had accidentally walked into a spider web, a feeling she loathed.
After brushing her teeth, Teddy stared into the mirror. She had aged. The once-perfect face was now showing signs of character. Glimpses of grey peeked through the thickness of her mane, and the skin around her eyes had lowered, leaving signs of small wrinkles. Even her hands had changed. She hadn’t noticed before because she’d been too busy searching for killers. But now she had no choice. This time, she was the target and death had knocked — but missed.
Dear Lord, please let today be a good day. So much is going on and all I long for is peace, so let today be a day of peace. Amen.
After completing her prayer, Teddy was instructed by her senses to follow the scent of what she believed to be freshly brewed Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee. Expecting to be greeted by Blake, she was surprised to see that the only things waiting for her were coffee, breakfast, several freshly picked white carnations, and a note.
Girl, you got some moves on you. I was surprised you could keep up with me. I should have told you I was a professionally trained dancer, but I just didn’t want to stop that natural groove thang you had going on. Anyway, I had to step out but I should be back in time for dinner. Feel free to enjoy whatever I have. No more secrets! Blake
Teddy spent most of her day talking to Hershel Wiley about the upcoming press conference and DaKira Symposium, originally organized by their whole team. Now that both Basil and Lance were dead, plans were going to have to change even more. Already they had moved the venue. Since Basil had been murdered in Chicago, that city no longer seemed like the right place, so everything had been relocated to Washington, DC’s, Howard University.
Also, in Basil’s memory, they would do what he had always wanted the federal government to do: conduct a peer review of the science. The DaKira Symposium would meet this objective.
Everyone invited to attend the symposium had now RSVP’d, including representatives from the international medical community and also the dissident movement. All would be part of the peer review process. Then, once the symposium ended, each representative would get the antidote formula to test on volunteer human subjects with a recorded HIV diagnosis. Finally, the results from all the different countries would be published in a recognized medical journal.
Teddy knew that if they were to prevent the mutation process that appeared inevitable, the scientists had to agree to the provisions outlined. Too many people were in jeopardy of losing their lives, and it wasn’t going to be due to HIV. If they didn’t hurry with the dissemination of the antidote, these people would die due to the extenuating circumstances created by the anomaly that had gone rogue.
She also wanted to get the Others where it hurt most — in their pockets. She thought distributing the formula widely would eliminate the financial benefits associated with the net results of crisis capitalism, an obvious financial strategy used to create the AIDS industry and one that would be repeated if the Others, only, had the antidote and formula. Teddy knew medical science discoveries paid big-time, and AIDS was no different. No one could argue the fact that the weapon’s impact had created and sustained an industry for over three decades.
But Teddy’s plan would make things different. She, along with Basil, Blake, and Hershel Wiley, had changed the paradigm by creating legal steps to ensure that no government or private entity could own the patent to the cure. Once the formula was released, Basil, Lance, and Isabella would maintain the biological patent rights to the formula, and their families would be the beneficiaries. This would eliminate any challenge by the government regarding the formula’s ownership, while at the same time, establish an infrastructure for global access.
In addition, at the symposium, Teddy and Wiley agreed that he and several other advocates would recommend that the United States Attorney General conduct an investigation into the alleged role government agencies played in the dissemination of the weapon.
Teddy knew these acts would flush out the Others and she was willing to take the risk. There had been too much loss and no justice, and now that she had the antidote and the formula, she would do what Isabella and Basil would have done. She would make sure that everyone who needed the antidote would have access to it — even if it meant she would have to die to make it happen.
The weather started to change. The summer he
at was at its peak, and that meant severe storms could be whipped up. Blake knew his timing was perfect, despite his reason for leaving Charlie’s safe house; any later might have meant a bumpy flight home.
As he headed to the airstrip, Blake had time to think. What was Charlie doing? Not only had Charlie saved Eli, but he’d risked his cover and his life to do it. The more Blake thought about everything, the more disgusted he became. The amount of pain Eli had generated was incomprehensible, and the fact that he had the audacity to ask for forgiveness was reprehensible.
Now more than ever, Blake couldn’t wait to get home because all he could think about was sharing the rest of his day with Teddy. No more secrets, he’d said, and he would keep his pledge. He would tell her everything. Except that he had become a mark. He didn’t want to burden her with anything so inconsequential.
Blake parked his rental and headed to his plane. Yes, he’d timed his departure perfectly. He’d be in front of the approaching winds and as promised, home in time for dinner.
Charlie had to turn Eli over to the authorities, but not before he found out why Blake had become his target.
After a long, sedated sleep, Eli had awakened groggy but rested. He knew that after a while, Charlie’s trust would wane, and since he hadn’t been restraining him, it didn’t surprise him that he’d been sedated. In retrospect, Eli knew he would have done the same but would not have been as humane to his captive as Charlie had been to him.
“So how did you sleep?” Charlie asked, seeing Eli fully dressed and moving without his IV.
“Like I was sedated.”
Rather than explain his reasoning for the sedation, Charlie went on flipping his pancakes. He’d gotten the message and Eli knew it.
“So, listen,” Charlie said as he placed a stack of pancakes on the table in front of Eli. “I have to ask you a question and I hope you will be honest with me. I need to know why Blake is a target. Why do the Others want to dispose of him?”
Eli laughed at the mere suggestion that the Others wanted to take Blake out.
“You think this is funny?” Charlie said as he tried to restrain himself. “Why I ought to —”
“Hold on, old man,” Eli replied, still laughing. “I’m not laughing because I think it’s funny; I’m laughing at the fact that you think it’s the Others who want to take Blake out. You’re pretty smart, all right, but in this case, you’ve missed the mark. As far as I know, he isn’t even on their radar.”
“Then why were you going to kill him?” Charlie asked, a puzzled look on his face.
“I never said I was going to kill him, Charlie. I just said I was put into the position where I had to. It’s not me who wants him dead. It’s Guy Yeager. I just wanted enough money so I could go into hiding while I tried to trade my life for the information in that satchel.”
Now it was Charlie’s turn to laugh. He knew that what was in that satchel was nothing more than child’s play. But he held his tongue about that. “I don’t get it,” Charlie replied. “Guy Yeager has always had issues with Blake. So what would make Yeager risk everything now? It just doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you have a copy of Yancy Laurie’s last will and testament,” Eli said coldly. “It says that if the last living heir doesn’t change the stipulation within a certain amount of time, Guy Yeager becomes the estate’s beneficiary. Yeager asked me to dispose of Blake, and in return, I would get half of Blake’s wealth.”
Charlie was stunned and it showed. “So how much time has Blake got to make the necessary changes?”
“Well, if my calculations are correct,” Eli replied, “he has less than two months left.”
Charlie knew that with all his responsibilities for the upcoming symposium, chances were that Blake would need more time to review and make the necessary changes to protect his legacy. So he had to let Miles in on what was about to go down. Miles would at least be able to put surveillance on Blake if he didn’t already have that covered. And he knew that if he were Yeager, he would try to take Blake down at the symposium. Like most sociopaths, Yeager would want and need the public to witness his power play so as to not be challenged further down the road.
Eli could see Charlie was already thinking about what he was going to do. “So, old man,” Eli said as he chewed a piece of bacon, “now that you know, what are you going to do with the information I just gave you?”
“I’m going to protect Blake, and you are going to help me find out who in the government is calling all the shots for the Others.”
“So far, your assumptions about the Others haven’t been exactly on target. After all, you thought the Others had made Blake a target. So what makes you think your plan will work?”
“I have you,” Charlie replied nonchalantly. “The Others don’t know if you are dead or alive. If you’re dead, then logically they have to think the antidote and formula died with you. But, if they know you’re alive, they’ll come after you. So, what better place to come after you than the symposium Teddy and Blake are hosting? That’s where Yeager will try to take Blake out and that’s where the Others will show their hand — especially once they see you. So, if what you said about redemption and forgiveness is true, will you help me save Blake and find the ones responsible for turning you into a monster?”
Eli knew the old man was right. He could see the plan could actually work. What he didn’t know was whether Charlie was telling the truth. Did he really love Blake, or was there something else going on? Charlie seemed to know too much about the Others for an outsider, so Eli decided he had to play his cards close.
“Whatever you need me to do, Charlie, I will,” Eli replied as he ate his last slice of bacon. “I owe Blake my life.”
As he had expected, Walls received a visitor at his door. A week had passed with no word from the Others; but the day had finally come. The Others had sent their driver, the only person who knew the destination of the summit and the only face he would see. Without hesitation, he gathered his things and followed the man to the black sedan in front of his building.
Sitting in the dark vehicle, windows pitch black so as to prevent him from recognizing the route or surrounding locations, all he could do was study the time it took to reach his final destination. As he tried to calculate the distance, Walls thought about Eli. He knew he had taken this trip countless times and he wondered if Eli prayed like he prayed.
Unlike his first, Walls knew this meeting with the Elders would be different. As the car came to a stop, the driver opened the window between them and without saying a word, handed Walls a hood to place over his head. Once out of the car, the driver escorted him into a building and then down a long hall. When they reached the room, the hood was removed.
For several minutes, Walls tried to focus, but he couldn’t. The room, like the hood, was filled with darkness. However, he knew he wasn’t alone and that wherever he was, his movement was restricted.
“Brother Walls,” the Elder said, “are you all right? You seem a little nervous.”
Walls could tell the voice he heard was above his head and that whoever was speaking to him was in a compressed soundproof chamber.
“Yes, Elder, I’m all right,” Walls replied as he looked up.
“So why do you seem so nervous?” the Elder asked.
Walls paused before responding. He knew that, though he had failed his assignment, he couldn’t come off as weak. “I’m not nervous, Elder. I’m disappointed because the first assignment I received, I failed to complete.”
“What do you mean, you failed the assignment? Lance St. John is dead and the safe house was destroyed,” the Elder replied. “Now I assume you have the package and Brother Eli has been disposed of. Are my assumptions correct?”
“No, Elder, they are not. Brother Eli escaped and took the package with him.”
“I see. You have permission to speak. Now tell me what happened.”
“Yes, of course,” Walls said, surprised he would be given the opportunity to explain so ea
rly in the inquisition. “Everything was going as planned. The first target, Ms. Alexander, was killed by Brother St. John. I could see her on the floor in a pool of blood when I returned Brother St. John’s body to the safe house. Then, as Brother Eli and I were escaping through the brush, I made my move. We fought, and I even shot him, but somehow, he managed to get the best of me. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground next to the creek at the bottom of the brush, and the package, the cooler, and Eli were gone.”
Walls knew that to have any chance of staying alive that day, he could not tell the Elders about the second set of prints. He had his suspicions as to whose the prints were and if he made it out of there alive, he would immediately find Yeager and confront him.
“So why are you still alive, Brother Walls?” the Elder asked. “Why did your adversary spare you from sure death?”
“I don’t know, Elder,” Walls replied as he lowered his head. “I have asked myself that same question. Now, as I stand here before you, I can only imagine what fate my failure has garnered.”
Brother Walls was a beaten man and the Elders could see he had already given up, but they weren’t done with him yet. They knew, if Eli was alive, he would try to negotiate his position in light of the fact that he had the antidote and the formula. But, if Eli was dead somewhere, then the antidote and the formula had died along with him. This meant their position hadn’t changed. There would be more collateral damage than they had wanted, but the work of changing the world’s population landscape would go on unabated.
Now the only thing the Others had to deal with was Teddy Alexander. They knew she not only had enough evidence of the conspiracy and the development of the biological weapon, but also the credibility needed to keep the conspiracy alive and in constant view of the media. Teddy had to be eliminated.
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