by Dean Kutzler
How could she be a part of this?
Oh, how he didn’t realize until…
Her lip twitched. Just slightly. That was all it took and Jack knew. It was in her eyes. He knew as surely as he knew the sun would rise in the east on the morrow.
He knew.
Not the why, not yet.
The who.
The pinched voice from the clergyman he’d bumped into, coming out of the elevator in his hotel before discovering his room ransacked—the voice that sounded so familiar, yet not.
The clergyman saying prayers over a surprised patient in room number three—the room right next to his uncle’s room in the hospital. The alleyway in the Marble Cemetery. His shoe in her hand. She used the charcoal insert to mask the gunpowder smell on her hands.
Her clutch.
It had been bulging at the seams.
It was her.
She had been there each time.
Not the clergy-man.
The wo-man.
She disguised herself so that if anyone saw her, they would think someone in the church was responsible, like Father Alazar.
Not a—woman.
Now the question of why changed its plea to a far sadder request.
“Why?” The epiphany drained the very life from his body. The axe in his heart too much to bear. He couldn’t fathom it, but it was right there in her eyes. “It was you. Why?”
His mother—the woman—straightened her blouse, the coldness set deep in her eyes, never breaking away from his, asked, “Does it really matter?”
“Yes,” was all he could manage, but it really didn’t. A deed done was a deed done. Neither good nor bad, based solely on perception.
“Well, I guess you do deserve to hear it since you’re such a big part of it. You should be honored, Jack. The Bene Elohim have big plans for this world, big indeed I do say. They came to me, a very long time ago, before you were born. I was key in the development, just like you are now the turning point. They explained to me how we’d been cheated out of our birth-rite, right from the beginning of our very own existence.”
“Nothing could be so important to brutally murder your family over,” he spat.
“Now don’t rush the story, son—“
“Don’t call me that! Just, just don’t—you’re dead to me.” He shook his head in utter disgust.
“I see then. Let’s just get it out of the way, so I can move on to the important matter. I killed them both. Yes, I did. Your father and your uncle, but it’s not what you think. Necessity doesn’t foster any ill intentions. Your beloved uncle that you held so dear to your heart—he was a part of it. Not at first, but we needed him. His DNA was more pure than Franklin’s. We couldn’t be sure at first. I won’t declare to understand what their scientists know, but I chose the wrong brother and I was running out of time. Franklin’s eye was roamin’ on some Yankee hussy and I couldn’t risk it. Those northern trash always give the milk away for free. So I married him, but he was the wrong one.”
The wrong one? DNA? More pure? The lineage book and the hole next to Jack’s name flashed in his head, again. Her name hadn’t been in it, but then he’d been looking for Elliot, not her maiden name. His head was swimming at the thought, but the bond he shared with his uncle, it made sense. “You’re telling me that Uncle Terry—“
“Yes. Your beloved uncle Terry is—was your father. It was too late. I married the wrong man and a proper southern woman doesn’t believe in breaking the sanctity of marriage.”
“But you believe in infidelity and murder?” Jack’s mouth fell into a perfect O.
“Don’t be so surprised, I had to do what I had to do Jack. You would’ve too, you must understand.”
No, he mustn’t.
“Franklin found out about the affair, heaven knows how, but I couldn’t risk him finding out about the Bene Elohim. A man in his position and power—I shudder to think how he could have exposed us,” she said with a shake.
“Your uncle—I mean, your father, Terry,” she corrected, “was reluctant at first, but when they showed him the legacy that was taken from us in our infancy and how it is in our grasp to take it back, he couldn’t deny it. We were meant for greater things than these bodies of ours allow. We were made to be as Gods and it was taken away from us—eradicated from the face of earth!”
She closed her eyes, a storm of emotions brewing under her lids. She opened them and continued.
“But like all strong things, they can never truly be erased. Our ancestors saw to that, even in the face of the great flood. Our true DNA survived and was nurtured over time through careful mating and planning. The battle was not one of bloodshed, but of time. Time needed to purify the DNA for our becoming. The Bene Elohim have kept track since the very beginning, and you, Jack, are now at the right age for your DNA to be of use. You are going to help mankind to forge ahead in this glorious new era when we can finally regain our God given power as the people we were meant to be.”
“Ah, I’m not a scientist, but I’m pretty sure DNA doesn’t change within one lifetime.” He said, still not believing what he was hearing. His mother—no, this woman—was a psychotic murderer involved with an ancient organization, bent on creating a superhuman God race. His uncle was really his father and his father was really his uncle and his DNA was finally ripe for the picking. He didn’t have time to process all of this. He had to think of a way out of here. As if on cue, Lars stepped closer to him.
“No, correct you are.” She said. “It doesn’t change in one lifetime. That has already happened, over thousands of years. Remember? Careful mating and planning. It’s more than just your DNA. Your DNA has been ripe from your birth. Terry confirmed it when you were just a young boy. The generational gap was closed. You are pure and they do need to test it to replicate an inoculation for the rest of us.”
“If it’s been ripe all this time, why wait to test it?”
“Unfortunately, the scientists have yet to find the trigger to activate the DNA. It is dormant within you. Pure, but inactive. But once they study the book we acquired, thanks to Laws’ brilliance, and now that we have you, we’ll have that trigger. It should only be a small matter of time.”
“So if you’ve had a sample of my DNA all this time—I don’t get it? Why haven’t you tested for it already? Why do you still need me?”
“The scientists were unable to synthesize a food source to sustain our new becoming. Without it, our new bodies would ravage the earth of its food until both it and we perished. Great power takes great resources. How did Emmerich explain it?” She looked towards the ceiling, searching the air. “Oh yes, think of it like a rocket. It wouldn’t get very far on mere auto-fuel, that’s why they needed rocket-fuel.”
“So—what? They wanna grind me up and chug me like rocket fuel? What kind of pathetic God is that?”
“Oh heavens, Jack. We’re not barbarians. We just want our birthright back. Taken along with our birthright and to further inhibit our chances of ever reclaiming it, another nasty little trick was done. The source of sustenance for our divine-bodies-to-be was snuffed from the face of this earth. It no longer grows and hasn’t since the fateful day it was all taken away. Without it, we’d only live a normal human life span or until everything on the planet was consumed.”
Apparently Uncle—Father Terry wasn’t as onboard as she’d thought. She had no clue. Now Jack understood why he kept his secrets. With the knowledge of the tree the Bene Elohim would be unstoppable in their goal. Just the healing properties alone—their forces would be unbeatable. Terry wasn’t a total monster.
Thank God?
“Some Gods you’d be. Other than my ripe DNA, what’s any of this got to do with the rest of me?”
“The only option they haven’t been able to try until now is testing a pure source of the DNA. They’ve failed with any source less than pure. They needed your physiology to grow and develop for aaah—harvest.” She swallowed hard and continued. “Your mind needed to mature and certain
chemicals needed to develop. They feel that testing the matured physiology of a pure source will give them the answers they need to produce a viable food bank. I’m sorry to tell you so, Jack. You will not survive the process. It has to be this way. There is no other choice. Think of all you’ll mean. Your contribution. You will restore humankind back to the Gods we were meant to be. I’m sorry it has to be this way, son.” Sorry is what she said, but her eyes reflected something else.
She was going to hand him over, to be butchered like a pig at a slaughterhouse. The emotion running through him was like none he’d ever felt. How could a mother nurture a child for slaughter? For pure lunacy?
“So if my unc—father, if Terry was involved, why did you, you butcher him?” His stomach rolled, the cold-hearted bitch would let them harvest her own flesh and blood’s organs. He might puke. Keep her talking. He had to come up with a plan.
“Because of you,” she said, as if distaste coated her tongue.
“Me?”
“When he learned what had to be done, and that you wouldn’t survive the process, he had a change of heart. He was weak. He threatened to tell you and expose us all, so you could run—escape. I couldn’t allow it, Jack. At first I poisoned him, but I hadn’t used enough. I should have been as heavy-handed with that stuff as I am with my salt, but I couldn’t risk him smelling it. So from an error in my judgment, he lived, but he was a vegetable slippin’ in and out of lucidity. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but sacrifice and strength are what it takes and I’ll never regret that. He had to be silenced.”
He read the conviction in her eyes like a bullet point to crazy as she continued. “There is more at stake here than just reclaimin’ our Godly birthright, Jack. The Mayans, or is it Maya? They had it right after all, you know. 2012 came and went and everyone thought by that crazy looking calendar, a cataclysmic event should have wiped us out. The whole world read it wrong; all those smarty-scholars got it wrong. Except for the Bene Elohim. They have been protecting our future from the start. The calendar was never about a tragic comet colliding with the earth or about aliens destroying us or plagues or natural disasters. The calendar was a warnin’. A warnin’ to tell us that if we didn’t cull the magnitude of our population growth by 2012, the damage would be irreversible. We would deplete our resources to the point that regeneration for Mutha Earth would be impossible. The puny human race is a scourge on this planet.
“Think about it, Jack. The Bene Elohim are doing what has to be done to protect our future, not just restore our Godly birthright. They are makin’ the hard choices that need to be made. The process will take to only 25% of the population by their estimates. They’ve developed it so that the other 75% will nourish and replenish the earth so they don’t go to waste.”
Was she kidding? Was he the only one in the room that was listening to the sheer savageness coming out of her mouth? Jack couldn’t believe she could even callously utter such horror. What he couldn’t believe even more was the woman he’d thought he’d known all his life was a monster clad in southern decadence. A monster that didn’t bat an eyelash at using 75% of the world’s population for worm-food. Every moral, every lesson she taught as a mother, was built on a lie. She was lost in a world of power and greed and to top it all off, she did it all in the name of saving the world.
“Not only is the problem of over-population solved, but it will reverse the damaging effects our greedy lil’ hands have already done, by nourishing Mutha Earth and putting back some of what has been wrenched from her womb. And as a result of the process, world peace will be imminent. No more war, no hunger. Think of it Jack. The world has always been spinning down the wrong path, that’s why it’s in this messy state. You are the answer to bring us back to our rightful destiny. You are the savior of mankind. You, out of all the blessed people in the world. My son.” Her eyes lit up like Swarovski. “Even man’s manipulated Bible talks of what we lost. It is what set the Bene Elohim on their righteous path.”
She cleared her throat before she quoted scripture.
“Genesis 6:4 - There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown. See? Even the Bible tells us of what we lost. Those sons of God? That’s you, Jack.”
“You’re mad! Murdering your family? Cutting out—“ He shook his head, the thought of Terry’s tongue too gruesome to bear. “This—this slaughter of the population? It could never be the answer. Anyone in their right mind can see that.” He could see it in her eyes. She was gone, he’d never get through. How could he? She’d been on board this crazy train before he was even born. A plan would be nice right about now. He was no match for Laws, or Lars, or whatever his name was. It didn’t matter. She had a gun. The muscle had skill. Jack had his forever broken world.
He was fucked, like a paid hooker.
“I was afraid you’d feel that way son. I’m sorry. I truly am. They promised it would be painless. Laws.” She waved the gun at Jack and motioned towards the elevator.
“How can you do this? Think about what you’re doing.” Jack pleaded.
“I have, for a very long time. I never wanted it to be this way, Jack. I’m southern, not heartless. But there wouldn’t be another viable candidate for hundreds of years—and even then, it would be a gamble. You have to understand. It has to be you. It has always been your destiny.”
“Come, tough guy. Mama says time to go.”
Lars went to grab hold of Jack’s arm and Jack pulled away. “Keep your fucking hands off me! The guinea pig can walk on his own,” he said, punching the elevator button.
“Oh? I like dis one. Tough guy until end.” Lars flashed that confident smile and held his arm out. “After you, oink oink” he incorrectly mimicked. He laughed and pushed his nose up as he snorted. “Oink oink!”
“Laws! Enough,” she said, turning around. “Just in case it’s cold out. Wouldn’t want Winston to catch a chill.” She grabbed a shawl from the coat rack and laid it over her arm, concealing the cold piece of steel.
They rode the elevator down in silence. Jack’s mind raced to come up with a plan, but found it empty like his hope. The initial shock of his mother’s betrayal was starting to wear off, but it wasn’t helping. He couldn’t count the scars that were forming on a multitude of levels.
The elevator bounced to a halt on the ground level and Lars shot Jack a look that said: Resistance is futile. The doors opened into the night. Lars gave Jack a shove for good measure. He stumbled out of the elevator and caught a little blue flash from the corner of his eye, as he righted his step.
Before Jack’s mind even registered what was happening, Lars started to exit from the elevator and met the business end of a Louisville Slugger. The kiss of the bat to his thinking cap bent him over between the doors with a grunt and the second blow brought him all the way to the floor inside the carriage.
His mother’s eyes, colder than steel, calculated the situation in an instant. Instead of focusing on Lars's attacker, she took aim for Jack’s leg. She couldn’t kill him, they needed him alive, but she couldn’t risk the chance of him running off into the night.
A tiny bump in the fabric of her shawl began to rise.
“She’s got a gun!” Jack screamed.
“I know!” Like a rubber band, the bat snapped up from Lars's crumpled form, full-swing, and knocked the gun and shawl over his mother’s head. The Winston spit a round up into the ceiling of the elevator, before clattering to the back of the carriage.
The bitch was seriously going to blow out his leg.
As she struggled to pull the shawl from her head, the bat came back in an instant and slammed the penthouse suite button, then zig-zagged across the rest of the numbers, ending with the close-door-button. The bat made it out just in time as the doors snapped shut and the carriage began its climb.
“You were amazing! But—how? How did you know?” Jack asked
, dumbfounded.
“How’d I knows? How’d I knows what? Dat yous was in trouble? You called me. Dats how. I listened in on da whole thing. Smart thinkin’ on yous part Jack, really smaat. And man, whatda bummer.”
“But I didn’t call—hold up,” Jack said with his palm out. He pulled out his phone and saw the cracked screen. Harold’s was the last number he’d called on the ride to his mother’s penthouse. The loud crack he’d thought was his hip during the struggle with Lars was actually his phone breaking and redialing Harold’s number. What were the odds?
“Yous got an angel on your side pal,” Harold said, realizing what happened at the same time as Jack. “But let’s not overstep wit da almighty,” he said, glancing up at the elevators display panel. The numbers were already climbing their way back down. “That won’ts hold em forever.”
November 12, 7:48 P.M., EST
The Brownstone, Upper East Side
THE NIGHT AIR of the city felt cool and calming, blowing across his face from the open cab window as Harold drove him back to the brownstone. On the way, Jack filled him in on what happened, including what he left out the first time: the illegal break-in at the church, withholding information from the police and also the tree he’d found under the brownstone. Yes, even the tree.
Harold had overheard the danger he’d be walking into on Jack’s pocket-dial and had still come to his rescue. After all, Vera’d have his head if he hadn’t. If he’d done what most people would have and stopped to call the police instead, they’d be taking Jack to the Bene Elohim to be sliced and diced by the time a squad car ever reached the scene.
Without a doubt, Jack could trust Harold.
Especially about the tree. And as before, it felt good confiding in someone. Especially someone that saved him from a gruesome death. After great protest, Harold finally agreed that calling the police wasn’t exactly in Jack’s best interest at the moment. He also added that they probably wouldn’t try and make a move on him any time soon. His mother was southern, not stupid. His friend was just very worried about his safety and he said Vera would be too. He reminded Harold that he had the resources to protect himself, but thanked him, genuinely.
