Moonbow

by Sheila Hollinghead

  Rayden cranked up. It started to rain, and he turned on the wipers. After she had told him she wasn't interested in God and here was that stupid book loaded onto the Kindle. She threw him a sideways glance and saw his eyes were on the road.

  He didn't have to know she was going to read it. Curiosity had gotten the best of her. She scrolled through until she found "On Children." The words she read brought a lump to her throat but also anger slashed through her. Probably his way of getting her to change her mind about the abortion. As if!

  As they drove, the rain gave way to a thin mist, and Rayden reduced the speed of the windshield wipers. Their slow swoosh made Gisa drowsy, even after her long nap. She watched the scenery go by and the words of the poem kept running through her mind, no matter how many times she tried to forget them.

  Outside of Denver, the skies began to clear. The sun peeked out from behind one of the gray clouds.

  She straightened in her seat. A rainbow. A double rainbow. “Rayden, look!”

  He craned his neck to peer through the windshield. “Keshet.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Keshet is the Hebrew word for rainbow. Actually the Hebrew word for bow.”

  She looked at him. “Like in bow and arrows?”

  “Yes. Any type of bow is keshet. Remember Mr. Pierce telling us about the moonbow at Cumberland State Park? A moonbow would be keshet also."

  She bit her lip. She did not want to hear any more. Why was he trying to cram Bible stuff down her throat?

  He threw her a glance. "And the moon—I read something interesting the other day. Did you know some scholars believe Esther comes from the Aramaic word for moon?"

  She had stopped listening. She didn't know who Esther was and didn't care. She stared out the window, suddenly homesick, wondering about her students, wondering if the school system had already hired a teacher to replace her.

  "Studying the Bible is fascinating. I could be a full time student if someone would pay me. Esther...that would have been a good name for you...Gisa? Gisa?"

  "What?" She turned in her seat.

  He threw her a glance. "I said that Esther would be a good name for you."

  Heat rose to her cheeks. She looked down at her hands. "Thank you, I think."

  He cleared his throat. "And hachitzim is the Hebrew word for arrow. It’s the word used in Psalm 127...remember? As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man so are children of the youth.”

  She raised her head to glare at him. “I told you that I had no interest in the Bible. Do you enjoy irritating me?” She frowned and rubbed her temples. She had the beginning of a headache.

  “Maybe.” He flashed her a smile. “You know, sometimes people name their babies Keshet.”

  “Good for them.” She gritted her teeth and turned away. She pulled the Kindle out and searched through it. He was at it again, complimenting her one minute—at least she thought it had been a compliment—and irritating her the next. Why couldn't she simply ignore him?

  Surely he had loaded one book that wasn't Christian.

  RAYDEN’S CONSCIENCE STABBED him. After they had let their anger cool, he had deliberately tried to irritate her again.

  He rubbed his chin and glanced at Gisa. “How much money do you have with you?”

  “What?” She twisted in her seat and looked at him.

  “How much money?”

  “I’m not sure. I usually use my debit card.” She pawed through her bag and pulled out her wallet. “I have fifteen dollars and a little change.”

  He reached and took the bills from her hand and stuffed them in his front pocket. “Keep the change.” He flashed her a smile.

  “Fifteen dollars? That’s not going to help much.”

  “I called a friend when I was in the mall. Josh can do the abortion for $450. I'll have around $600 left. Well, $615 now.”

  “Well, you stole a credit card and a car. Robbing a bank can be next on your list.”

  “Very funny.” His voice was somber, but he allowed a smile to play on his lips.

  "You shouldn't have bought the Kindle."

  "You needed something to pass the time. No telling how long we may be on the road. After... after we leave Colorado."

  She stared out the window for a few minutes before she turned to face him. "Where's your friend who will perform the abortion?"

  He threw a glance at her. “Josh lives in Denver. I graduated from medical school with him."

  “And he performs abortions? You're friends with an abortionist?” Her back stiffened, and she laced her fingers tightly together.

  “Yeah. I am. We were friends before I became a Christian.” He rubbed his unshaven chin again, wearily. “Becoming a Christian doesn't mean cutting friends from your life." Okay...he was sounding irritable again. He took a deep breath. What was wrong with him? Why did she tend to bring out the worse in him?

  "Do I just arrive at the clinic and have the procedure on the same day?"

  "Usually a woman would have to make a preliminary appointment, but he’s agreed to take you right in.”

  “He must be a good friend. Seems like you have a lot of good friends.” Her voice dripped sarcasm.

  He tried not to let her draw him into another argument. He threw her a sideways glance. “I have been blessed with very good friends. Even some who have chosen wrong paths.” His eyes nailed her for a brief second before returning to the road. “Your appointment is tomorrow at ten.”

  “What do we do until then?” Her hands were knotted together in her lap.

  For all her bravado, she was looking very scared. He softened his tone. “We need to find an RV park with a vacancy. Help me find one.”

  She obediently started looking. “Why don’t we just stop and ask someone?”

  “Too risky.”

  “You think Die Auserwählten are everywhere?” She shook her head. “That’s crazy.”

  “Dr. Cochran mentioned something." Rayden's pulse beat a rhythm at the base of his throat. He had been holding back, afraid of overwhelming her with too much at once.

  "What? I thought you told me everything."

  "It's something I didn't tell you because I wasn’t sure I believed it.” That was true. It was difficult for him to wrap his mind around what his colleague had told him.

  “What?” she repeated.

  He threw another glance at her and saw her eyes on him. “Die Auserwählten are everywhere. Not too hard with over 1.3 million members.”

  “1.3 million? Here? In the United States?” Her eyes widened.

  Rayden shook his head. "No...worldwide."

  “How would Dr. Cochran know that?” Her hands clenched and unclenched.

  Should he tell her? Would she believe him? The seconds ticked by, and he still felt her eyes on him. “I know this is difficult to hear. It's difficult for me to tell you. But he was part of the organization. That's the reason he was killed—he betrayed them.”

  A sign caught his eyes, and he turned down a gravel road into an RV park.

  Why had he agreed to take Gisa to have an abortion? It wasn't too late for him to change his mind or to convince her to change hers. He knew she was determined. She had convinced herself the baby was not David's. So, if he refused to go with her, wouldn't she simply go alone? But he controlled the money. He could refuse to pay for it. Problem solved.

  Yet, maybe she was right. Perhaps a clone was not human. And as confident as he had been when talking with her, he still hadn't completely convinced himself. Man tinkering with God's design—no, he could never condone that. But men were arrogant and rashly treaded where no man should go.

  Surely, though, clones would not be soulless. God wouldn't, couldn't, punish the innocent children formed from man's manipulations. And, yet, what if this clone's genetic structure had been changed in ways to make the child more prone to evil? What would God do in that scenario?

  He had told Gisa that babies were not born evil. He believed that. However, studies had shown high testosterone a
nd low serotonin levels led to violent behavior. Die Auserwählten might have been planning to train the child similar to the way pit bulls were trained for dog fighting. And with genetic manipulation? The effects would be difficult to counteract.

  Would Gisa, a single mother, be able to adequately reverse the inherent DNA of the child? Would she even be willing to mother the child—no matter the DNA? If not, would it be fair to put such a child up for adoption without warning the adoptive parents?

  He could raise the child or at least help Gisa. But what did he know of parenting? His own mother and father certainly hadn't taught him anything.

  He shrugged his shoulders. For all his talk, he really didn't know. It was best to let Gisa make the decision.

  GISA SAT ON the edge of the bed, waiting for Rayden. He emerged from the bathroom, shaking the water from his hair.

  Gisa’s heart skipped a beat, and she silently reprimanded herself. Why did he always elicit such a response? Today of all days? She couldn't help but watch as he combed through his curls with his fingers.

  She smiled. “Do you need a comb?”

  He smiled back, and yet his face remained sad. “Nah. I'm good.”

  She averted her eyes when he looked in the mirror that hung in the tiny bedroom. She addressed the wall, studiously avoiding looking at him again. "Why didn't you tell me about Dr. Cochran?"

  "He died trying to help us. I didn't want to tarnish his name."

  She stood and faced him, trying hard to appear calm. Her emotions were cascading over her, threatening to drown her. Soon, the baby...no, the fetus would be gone. Maybe, just maybe, the influx of hormones would abate soon afterwards. And then she wouldn't be so, so...emotional.

  A car horn blew, and he glanced out the window. "The cab's here. Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded her head, clutched her bag to her chest, and followed him to the cab.

  He paused for a moment, his hand on the cab door. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  “I’m sure.” She returned his look steadily and straightened her shoulders.

  He nodded once and held the door for her. She slid over, moving quickly before he climbed in, to keep a safe distance away from him. Just one touch and she might put her head on his shoulder and become a bawling idiot.

  He explained the procedure to her, in whispers. “Since you are in your first trimester, it will be quick and easy. Usually takes five minutes or so for the actual abortion.”

  “That’s a relief.” She played with the strap on her bag.

  “Your cervix will be numbed and then a tube inserted to suction out the...”

  “Fetus,” she whispered quickly. “It’s only a clone in the first stages of development. It’s not human. Just a fetal clone.” Why did she feel so miserable? She should feel happy that Die Auserwählten would no longer be seeking her. Although Rayden had said they wouldn't stop. But he didn't know that, did he?

  What of that Stone guy? Was he really part of Die Auserwählten? She snorted. She had let her imagination run wild. 1.3 million. Did Rayden expect her to believe that?

  She sighed. She had gone through these arguments with herself countless times. Her heart hammered in her chest as a thought struck her. What if it were Rayden’s clone? Maybe that’s why he didn’t want her to abort it.

  No, it couldn’t be his clone. He wouldn’t have given in so easily to the idea of an abortion. Not that he had given in that easily, though.

  And wouldn't it have been simple for him to persuade a girlfriend to have his clone? She giggled, and Rayden looked at her. Warmth spread over her cheeks, and she turned her head to stare out the window.

  Was she making a terrible mistake? Could the baby be hers and David's? Her last tie to her husband gone forever? But Rayden didn't know for sure that the embryos had been destroyed. He was just telling her that to convince her not to abort. She was young; she would try again. As soon as Die Auserwählten forgot about her. And they would as soon as she aborted. She was sure of that. She had simply been chosen at random. They'd soon find another victim to carry the clone if they were really that determined. She sighed. The whole thing seemed ridiculous.

  The cab pulled into the parking lot of the clinic. She sat rooted to her seat while Rayden paid the cab driver. He opened the door and offered her his hand. She let him help her from the car. But once on the sidewalk, she pulled her hand from his grasp and led the way into the clinic. Inside, she paused, waiting for Rayden to speak softly to the receptionist before they sat down in the waiting area.

  Gisa flipped through a magazine, but Rayden stared in front of him, occasionally moving his lips. Gisa wondered if he was praying. She put the magazine down, unable to concentrate. She sat on the edge of her seat, rocking back and forth until Rayden shot her a look. She scooted back in the chair and tried to still her restless hands.

  Her name was called, and she stood on wobbly legs, draping her bag over her shoulder. Rayden jumped from his seat and took her arm, walking part of the way with her. He left her with the nurse who led her through a door and down a hallway to one of a dozen such rooms. Gisa walked in, and the door clicked shut behind her. She shivered at the sound and hesitated. Her eyes took in the scene. Two men in civilian clothes stood before her. It took a moment for it to sink in that one was caramel colored and had brown hair that he smoothed back—Ralph Stone.

  “Am I in the right room?” she asked. Her hand fumbled for the doorknob behind her, but it didn’t turn. She pivoted around and pounded on the door before her arm violently twisted behind her. She cried out once before one of the men stuffed wadded paper towels in her mouth, and the other held her down. She kicked and twisted as they taped her arms and legs together.

  On the other side of the door, Rayden called to her. “Gisa! Gisa!”

  How had he gotten there that quickly? The room swirled around her. Outside the door, she heard sounds of scuffling, a muffled sound. Rayden shouting...Esther and...keshet?... gunshots...several distorted voices speaking at once.

  And then silence.

  The men yanked a hood over her head, and hands lifted her.

  She stopped struggling, knowing it was useless.

  RAYDEN GROANED AND attempted to sit, but gentle hands pushed him down. The person belonging to the hands wavered in and out of focus. Rayden's vision flashed white with pain.

  “The ambulance is on its way. You’ll be all right. Just hold tight.”

  The words were spoken in a comforting tone, yet did nothing to ease his agitation. He again thrashed, despite the blinding pain. Where was Gisa? He had to get up, find her, stop the people who had taken her.

  The right side of his head was on fire, and he reached to touch it. His arm was pulled down, with more force this time.

  He tried to fight off the hands without success. His arms were pinned by his side. “Esther—keshet, keshet." Would Gisa understand? They had not talked of where to meet if they became separated. Would she remember that keshet meant 'bow'? That Esther meant 'moon'? And put the two together—moonbow—and remember it was at Cumberland State Park? But what if Die Auserwählten figured it out? And what good would it do Gisa anyway? How could she escape from the men who had taken her?

  He again tried to rise. “Someone...help.” His voice sounded far away, as if in the middle of a fog-filled alleyway.

  “We’re here, buddy. Hold on.”

  “Gisa,” he said, his voice louder this time. “Help her.” He rolled his head to the side, pain consuming him. The tiled floor was cool against his face, offering a measure of relief.

  “Lie still,” the voice commanded.

  Rayden sensed, rather than saw, the form turn toward him.

  Rayden tried to focus on the figure, narrowing his eyes. The face floating above him, filled with anxiety, was familiar. "Josh?"

  "Yep...it's me. Listen, Ray. You've been shot." Josh's forehead was furrowed and his brown eyes intense.

  Rayden tried to nod his head but pain shot through him. He moaned
and stilled for a moment. He inhaled deeply, gathering the courage to rise, no matter the cost.

  "Do you know where you are?" Josh asked.

  "Clinic...Gisa..." Rayden made it part of the way but again Josh forced him down.

  "You've got to lie still. You've been shot three times—head, leg, arm. Moving makes it worse—you could bleed out." Josh's voice was firm, calm, yet with an undercurrent of alarm.

  Rayden ignored his friend and fought the hands holding him down. "Got to..." He gulped air before choking down the pain. "...help her."

  Josh spoke soothingly. "Don't worry. The police have been notified. They're on their way. The guy who shot you might still be out there."

  "No! No police." His thrashing became more deliberate.

  "Ray! Please be still."

  "No...got to get...out of here." He made it to a sitting position, shrugging the hands away. The pain spun through his skull, shooting stars. Crashing waves of nausea engulfed him.

  He fell back and succumbed to the darkness.

  * * *

  Gisa

  Gisa greedily sucked in the air when they removed the hood and gag. Two men hovered on either side, looking down at her. She lay on the floor of what looked to be a work van. There were no cushions, no carpet, and no seats in the back. Craning her neck, she caught a glimpse of the back of a head—a third man with blond hair was driving.

  Ralph Stone rifled through her bag. The man she had never seen before, the older one with short gray hair, pulled the hood back down before she could see anything else. Immediately, the hood felt suffocating. Icy fingers of fear ran through her, making it difficult to inhale. She worked to slow her breathing, forcing her tightly clenched muscles to relax. Inch by inch, her muscles unknotted, and her breathing slowed. For a few moments, minutes perhaps, there was silence. And then she heard a voice.

  “What did he mean?” The question was followed by a kick in her back, crashing into her ribs. Pain radiated through her body.

  "What?" she asked, confused, not sure if she had heard correctly. She felt another kick in her side and curled up in a fetal position, subconsciously protecting the baby. “I don’t know,” she gasped.