Voices. When you start hearing voices, it means you're ready for the padded cell. But I'm acting perfectly sane, Flip thought. Aren't I? How would I know whether I was acting strange or not if I'm crazy? Voices. From where were the voices coming?
They had first started in Atlanta, when a strong premonition had convinced him not to take a commercial flight, but instead to charter a private plane. The same premonition warned him to cover his tracks. The flight plan had read San Juan, Puerto Rico. He'd landed in Kingston, Jamaica instead, bribing the pilot to fudge his destination on the flight plan. Flip still had no idea from whom he was hiding.
Three other times the voices came to him. Not actually voices, more like thoughts, but alien thoughts; definitely not of his own creation. But they had to be, he argued. Where else could they have come from? Was there any pattern to them? He thought about that for a moment. Yes, there was. Only seconds before, he'd been thinking about Denise. She'd been on his mind the other times too, hadn't she? He couldn't be sure, but he did know he'd been thinking a lot about her so there might be a connection.
Flip opened his eyes again, squinting against the bright sun. He sat up and drained his drink. He'd been in Jamaica for almost three weeks now, lying in the sun each day, deepening his tan. Despite the dozens of gorgeous scantily clad women around him, he had hardly so much as nodded at any of them. He'd been burned; scorched far worse than the hot Jamaican sun could ever do, and he was wary.
But then there was Denise. She hadn't scorched him. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he'd done a pretty lousy number on her. He felt a presence behind him but refused to fall for the bait this time. If he were going crazy, he'd be damn if he'd go willingly.
"Excuse me sir, can I get you another drink?" The voice of the barman made Flip jump three inches off the chair.
"Sorry, sir. I thought you heard me."
"Oh, I did, not to worry. I always react that way when I'm offered a drink. Yeah, I'll take another, but make it a Crown Royal on the rocks. These island drinks are too sweet for my taste."
The waiter left with the order. Flip arranged the towel he was using for a pillow and lay back down but he couldn't get his mind off of Denise -- and the presence would not leave him alone.
Like a little girl being held after school, Bridgette skulked into the room and sat down without a word. Lionel looked up from the notepad he'd been scribbling on, and studied her. She did not lift her head to meet his gaze but sat quietly contemplating her hands that she wrung nervously. Bridgette wore little, if any, make-up and was the most naturally attractive woman Lionel had ever seen. Her long blond hair cascaded down her shoulders in ringlets. According to the record Chunk had compiled, she was, at twenty-six, the youngest of the women. She reminded Lionel of the college coeds he had silently admired when he was in school. As he sat watching her, she finally lifted her head and met his gaze with soft blue eyes. She fluttered her eyelashes for a moment, then, resumed looking at her hands.
"Bridgette, may I call you Bridgette? My name is Lionel Adams. I know you've been through a tremendous strain over the last forty-eight hours, but I need to ask you a few questions. Okay?"
She nodded her head without looking up. Lionel was at a loss to know how to proceed. Usually, at this point in the interview, he could expect at least a twenty-minute temper tantrum. He looked at his list of questions and decided to take another approach. He closed his notebook and sat back in his chair.
"Bridgette, tell me, how did you get involved in this Harem?"
Bridgette looked up for the second time and smiled. Lionel watched two dimples form on either cheek and felt his heart melt. ''I'm afraid I was the one who started it...not intentionally, but I did introduce Flip to a friend of mine. After that, it got out of hand."
"Why did you introduce him to someone else if you were dating him?"
Bridgette shrugged her shoulders. "I knew that even though Flip was a nice man, he wasn't my type. He was too, well uh, too smooth...too flashy for me. Stacey was lonesome. She'd just broken up with her boyfriend, and to be honest, I wanted to impress her; to let her know that I knew someone like Flip. So I introduced them. It just mushroomed from there. I didn't find out until much later that others were involved. After I had introduced the two of them, I started dating someone else regularly. Flip called a few times, but I already had a commitment. Then a couple of weeks ago, Flip called again. I had just broken up with my friend and was feeling like old gum on someone's shoe. He came by with a couple bottles of champagne. I don't usually drink very much, and so, the next thing I knew, we're in the sack again and well, you know the rest of it."
She looked at her hands again. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, what is it?"
She hesitated for a moment, then, in a trembling voice she asked, "Is my baby going to be all right?"
The question stunned Lionel. Except for Denise, none of the other women had so much as hinted that they gave a damn about the precious miracle each one was carrying.
"Well, Bridgette, we think so, and we're doing everything possible to keep both of you healthy." Lionel leaned forward in his seat in order to get a better look at Bridgette's face. "Do you have any idea what you'll do after the baby comes?"
Without hesitation, she replied, "I figure I can continue to work from here as well as anywhere. If you'll let me, I'll stay here as long as need be. If you're wondering if I'll let you have my baby, the answer is no. It might be a special experiment to you, but to me -- well, he or she is my baby, one that deserves to have a mother, and so it shall."
"You're a writer, aren't you?"
"That's right. Mostly freelance newsletters, sales brochures, and the like. That's what pays the rent, so to speak. Actually, I'm a novelist, only no one else has recognized that just yet." She laughed, but there was an edge of sadness to the laughter.
''I'll have to check to see what can be arranged to allow you to continue your work, but I'm sure we can manage something. In the meantime, I've got to ask you this question. Any idea where we might find Flip?"
Bridgette laughed again. "Goodness, no. But if he gets wind that there are eight expecting mothers looking for him, I doubt you'll ever find him. Flip never struck me as someone especially good with either commitment or confrontation."
For privacy and comfort, the meeting with Chunk and Franklin convened in Franklin's office. Again, Chunk had taken the chair behind Franklin's desk and was leading the discussion. Dr. Chickowski, who had taken a strong interest in the women and their developing offspring, sat next to Lionel on the sofa, leaving one of the straight back chairs for the director of Bio Vita. Franklin didn't seem to mind.
"First on the agenda, let's review what we've found out about the creator of this disaster, Flip MacDougal. We've finally determined that Liz Young was the last one to see him. She finally admitted that it was not as happy an occasion as she had first tried to convince us. In fact, I'd say that our Mr. MacDougal would have grounds to prosecute the little bitch if half of what she said is true. She's one weird chick. Schizoid if I ever saw one. She had him dumped on the lower East Side of Chicago."
Franklin looked up from fidgeting with his tweed jacket. "You mean we've found him?"
"No, we haven't found him," Chunk answered testily. "But we are closer. The FBI tracked him to a rental car dealer in the area. Through the rental company's records, we found out that Flip returned the car in Charleston, West Virginia. Any idea why he'd go there?"
Lionel shook his head. "No connection that I know of."
"Well, he didn't stay there long, anyway. He took a flight to Atlanta.
"So he's in Atlanta?" Franklin asked trying to follow the conversation.
Chunk glared at the elderly executive again. "Unfortunately, that's where we lost him. For some reason, he chartered a plane instead of flying commercial. The flight plan indicated San Juan, but when it arrived there, Flip was not on board. The pilot insists that the man that rented the plane did not accompany him.
He claims he delivered a package for him. That's all."
"Now what?" Lionel asked. He had to turn his back to hide the smile that refused to stay off his face.
"We keep looking. That's all. If that SOB has kept up his whoring ways, this may turn into the worst epidemic since Typhoid Mary." Chunk threw his notes on the desk. "What is there to report on our brood hens?"
Dr. Chickowski stood up and tugged at the lapels of his lab coat as though preparing for his acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize. "Gentlemen, I'm happy to report that all is well with our subjects. All specimens have been checked into the infirmary and are resting well. The fetuses are growing at an outstanding rate, but we are providing supplemental nutrition to offset it. We have observed uncommonly active brain wave patterns emanating from each fetus but have no explanation for them at this time."
A light tap on the door interrupted Chickowski's speech. Ms. Petty strolled into the room and despite the stern look from Chunk, walked over to Lionel and whispered in his ear. "You have a guest in the lobby who would like to see you."
"I'm afraid I can't come down right now, Ms. Petty," Lionel whispered back. "Ask them if they can come back later."
"I think you'll want to see him now." Ms. Petty persisted. "He says his name is Flip MacDougal."
Spells
The candlelight reflected from the crystal that floated above the swollen belly of Madame Sarrah, casting a multi-colored pattern upon the stretched white skin. The beads upon her brow glistened with the same candlelight. Her lips barely moved as she repeated the spell in a deep voice, one alien to her vocal cords. The smooth surface of her belly contorted as the form within it wreathed in apparent distress. Madame Sarrah grimaced with pain but continued to mouth the spell, her lips twisting into a demonic smile despite the pain.
The spell was working. She could feel it from within. Power, mystical power of an unpredictable magnitude grew within her. Oh, how she loved it when her spells worked as planned.
Slowly, she relaxed her concentration and watched as the crystal floated to her belly, where it rested like a gaudy jewel in a belly dancer's navel. She reached to her left and found the used stethoscope she had recently purchased from the pawnshop. She placed the earpieces into her ears and frowned as the two pieces of poorly padded metal attempted to bore their way into the center of her skull. She placed the cold diaphragm against her fat belly and listened contentedly to the soft lub-dub, dub-dub, lub-dub, dub-dub.
There could be little doubt what she was hearing -- a double cadence, one slightly louder than the other. Two hearts that could only mean she carried twins. It would be twins, wouldn't it? Certainly it couldn't be some gross monster growing inside her -- a fetus with four arms and two hearts, perhaps with a third eye growing from its forehead?
No, pray to God, let it be twins.
As Flip entered Franklin's office, Lionel rose from his chair to greet his friend. He shook Flip's hand feeling like Judas in the garden of Gethsemane. "It's good to see you again, Flip," he said in a voice too loud. As he put his arm around Flip's shoulder he whispered in his ear, "but I wished you had stayed in hiding."
Flip gave him a strange look out of the corner of his eye but said nothing. "Let me introduce you to our group." Lionel made the introductions, saving Chunk for last.
As the tall black man approached Flip, Lionel thought for a moment that he might pull a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and clamp them on Flip's outstretched wrist. Instead, after pausing for a second, he took Flip's hand in his own.
"Did I interrupt an important meeting?" Flip asked as he looked around at each face.
"You might say that, but since you were part of the discussion, it's no interruption," Chunk replied with a sneer.
"Me? Why I'm flattered, but what on earth...?"
"Better sit down, Flip. I'll try to explain." Lionel pulled a chair out next to him and offered it to him.
He recounted the story as best as they had been able to reconstruct it. A shocked look of disbelief froze on Flip's face. When Lionel finished, Flip continued to stare at his good friend for several moments.
Finally, he said, "They're all pregnant?"
Lionel nodded.
"All pregnant?" Flip repeated. He continued to stare at Lionel, unsure whether to believe him or not. His face slowly broke into a smile, and then, he started to laugh. "They're all pregnant. Every blasted, bitchy one of them is pregnant." He hooted with glee and almost fell out of his chair. "Oh, that's rich. I mean, all those lovely career women, busily clawing their way to the top, and now they're pregnant."
Suddenly he jumped out of his chair. "Wait! It's not possible. How in the world could they all be pregnant at the same time? Hell, what about their birth control? Shit, Li, I've had a vasectomy. There's no way..."
"Think back, Flip. Remember the little 'accident' we had last time you came to visit me?"
Flip nodded.
"Well, we're pretty sure you somehow contaminated yourself with the Template, and that's what is causing these unusual results."
Flip studied his friend's serious features then looked at the matching looks on each man's face. "You're not kidding, are you? But how?" His face suddenly took on a new look of horror. "Denise. Don't tell me..."
Lionel nodded.
"Oh my God. She'll never speak to me again. That's why I came back, Li, to see her. Not that I didn't want to see you..."
Lionel smiled at his friend. "Don't worry, I know what you mean."
Flip sat back down. "Do you think I could have a drink?"
Lionel looked at Franklin, who nodded and went to his desk where he pulled out a silver flask. He walked over to Flip and handed it to him.
"I keep it there for medicinal purposes," he said in a soft voice.
Flip unscrewed the top and threw his head back, taking a long pull on the flask. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at the design on the flask. After a few minutes, during which not even Chunk moved, Flip finally shook himself, took one last draw of the liquor and looked at Lionel.
"Okay. What do we do now? I'll cooperate in any way I can. I imagine that you'll want to run some tests on me."
"Oh yes, indeed we will," Dr. Chickowski said. "We'd like to start with..."
Lionel raised his hand and shook his head. "We can go into that later, Doctor." He turned to Flip. "I appreciate your willingness to help."
"Willingness, hell." Chunk rose from his chair and started towards Flip. "Damn well better cooperate. Boy, you don't seem to realize how much trouble you're in. Why, I'm seriously considering pressing charges against you for conspiracy against the U. S. government."
Flip glanced from Chunk to Lionel. "What's he talking about?"
"Nothing that you need to worry about, Flip." Lionel turned to Chunk.
"Chunk, if you'll kindly sit down for a few more minutes. Flip has already said that he would answer your questions. Remember, he did come here on his own."
Chunk glared at Lionel but returned to his seat. As he sat down, he said. "Just remember one thing. I'm in charge of this project. You may not be under arrest yet, but you are being held for questioning, so don't try to sneak out of here."
"I've no intention of sneaking anywhere. I came here for a reason. I'm more than happy to cooperate but I do have one condition."
"I knew it. The bastard thinks he can..."
"Chunk! Give the guy a break. Before you go flying off the handle, let's hear what the condition is." Lionel leaped to his friend's defense again.
"All I want is for you let me see Denise. I've got to try to explain to her what happened. That's all I want." Lionel looked at Chunk for a moment then, back to his friend. "I'm sure that can be arranged. You have my word on it."
Darkness -- the blackness that can only be known by those who have never seen light. Natural darkness, yet still with a hint of fear. But not silence; instead a rhythmic drumming in the background. Warmth, security, comfort; all present in the tiny world, yet also l
oneliness. Then one day, no more aloneness. Someone is there, but not there. A presence, one that understands -- then another and another. Soon, you are not alone but part of a group -- a very special group, yet still in darkness.
Then the darkness is pierced by a ray of light, a dim glimmer at the end of an infinitely long tunnel. You see it. Your sisters see it. At first it is terrifying, but as it grows, it comforts. Not just a light, but a window opening to a new and different world. Finally, form and color. The senses reel. You squirm uncomfortably, then, settle down and watch.
"Is everyone getting this?"
"Yeah, I'm getting it. It's not making much sense though."
"Not me, I'm still not getting anything but a little light, but it's brighter than the other day."
"Let me explain then. Our window is very close. It has come to us. I am seeing forms, beings like us but at the same time very different. Our window is confused and worried by the thoughts of these other forms. We may be in danger; I cannot tell. Perhaps only our window is in danger. How many can see and sense what I am getting?"
Three answered affirmatively; two indicated that they had partial sight, and three others were still unable to see more than a little light.
"Patience. It will come. Does anyone feel any new presence?"
All responded negatively.
"Okay. It must be my imagination; never mind."
Flip stood in the open doorway for several minutes watching the slow up and down motion of Denise's belly. Inside the sleeping form was another sleeping form, his child. How could it be? Down the hall and to the left was a line of other rooms, each with a similar picture. All his children.
"How can it be?" He whispered. After a moment, he stepped into the room and walked over to the bed. He placed his hand lightly on Denise's swelling. Her eyes fluttered and opened.
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