by Fox, Stephen
Underwood mulled over the wording of that statement as she continued. “Quite often I would sneak a peek and catch him adjusting himself as he grew large at the sight of my features. But he was soooo shy - he would just turn red, adjust his trousers, and walk on. I tried speaking to him, even though young ladies were not supposed to speak to anyone unless spoken to in those days. The only response would be a crimson-faced grunt. I began to despair. After all, the nearest man other than him was a manure encrusted fifty year old pig farmer.”
“I imagine it was frustrating.”
“Frustrating? You don’t know the half of it! I was trying so hard to act pure and chaste. Believe me, it wasn’t easy for someone who hadn’t been a virgin for two hundred years.”
“How did you finally break the ice?”
“One day while he was walking by, I pretended to faint. As I fell I let my dress hike up nearly to my waist. He came running over to help me and knelt down beside my body before he realized that he had a clear view of all my charms, shall we say. He stopped dead just inches from me, torn between wanting to assist me and being awed by the spectacular view before his eyes. As I recall, I had forgotten to wear undergarments that day.” The twinkle in her eye was unmistakable as she continued. “When nothing happened for a minute, I snuck a peek. The front of his pants was doing a great imitation of Pinocchio after a few lies. Suddenly I was the one in awe.” Her eyes grew wide and she shook her head as the memories came flooding back. “Anyway I pretended to wake up, expressed surprise and gratitude that he would come to my aid, and reached up to thank him with a kiss. My hand managed to reach out for leverage and you can imagine where it landed. Without getting too risque let’s just say he needed no more coaxing. Once we started, he was magnificent. And so eager to please.”
“I’m sorry I asked. I’m getting an inferiority complex just listening to this story.”
“He was a country bumpkin, but inferior he was not. We stayed together for many years and I think he was one of the few men I ever truly loved.”
Underwood frowned. “And yet you killed him.”
She seemed confused by the statement. “He was going to betray us all. I did what had to be done.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “Besides he had left my life long before. The Patrick you met was not the man I loved so many regenerations ago. We stayed together only until his first regeneration.
Her story fascinated Underwood. “How did you get him to join you?”
“That wasn’t difficult. Remember he was a country boy with no formal schooling. We were married within a month. I told him that it was a custom where I was from to seal a marriage with blood. At that time he was so in lust with me, he would have agreed to swap feet with me if I asked. When he felt his strength increase days later, I explained that my blood had made him part of a superhuman group of people, and told him he could live forever. It took a few days of experimenting with his strength and intellect before he actually believed that.”
Underwood’s fingers continued their Olympic events. “How did you explain the change in your aunt?”
“I didn’t. Within a year of our marriage, she suddenly ‘died.’ With the help of a friendly doctor, and a sealed coffin (another custom from my homeland - I can’t remember where I said I was from, but he believed every word I said anyway,) she went back to the Foundation, and started over in a different city. We ‘inherited’ the house and lived there for many years. Patrick was a wonderful husband. However he was such an innocent, I didn’t tell him about the regeneration part until much later, when he wondered why he was still growing old. I still didn’t tell him about the blood sacrifice until it was time. That’s why he left me.”
A questioning look from Underwood and she continued. “He was still an innocent after all those years. I guess that’s why I loved him so. He had enormous strength, even before he was chosen. And afterwards, he was probably the strongest of all, with a tremendous intelligence as well. But he didn’t flaunt either quality. He considered them gifts and never boasted, even among the Chosen. A wagon got stuck near our house one time. He could have pulled it out himself with no difficulty. Instead he got five neighbors together and worked with them to free the wagon. Afterwards he praised the strength of the others, not to hide his gift but to make the others feel that they made the difference. Before his first regeneration, that’s the kind of man he was.”
Underwood urged her on. “And after …?”
The senator looked out in space and sighed as she went back in time. “My change came first. When I felt the first urgings, I didn’t dare let him know how the change was triggered. I went to London for a few days, supposedly to visit relatives. That night I found a victim and made the change. When I came back to my husband as a young girl, he was astounded. I explained to him that he would change in due time. In the meantime, I had to wear lots of makeup to appear middle-aged long enough to sell the farm. I had become an expert in makeup over the years. He loved making love during that time. When the makeup came off I become young again. Like most middle-aged men, it made him feel younger to make love to a young girl. It didn’t matter to me that he was still old. I was in love with him and he made me happy. When we moved, I got rid of the makeup, and became his daughter to the world. We continued in this manner for a little more than a year, father and daughter in public, husband and wife in private.” Her wistful smile turned into a frown. “Then came his change.”
She looked down at her bonds. “This tape is really cutting off my circulation. Could you loosen it please?”
The Captain looked grim. “Not a chance. You’ve already tried to kill me once today. Besides we both know that you’ll have no lasting injuries.” He paused to consider the situation, and continued. “Let’s reach an agreement. I promise that I will free you when we are done. I won’t leave you here. In exchange you’ll help me understand more about the Chosen. Now let’s go back to your story. What happened when he encountered the change?”
Her wistful look turned sad. “He began to get moody and quarrelsome. That’s normal when the change begins, so I knew I couldn’t put off telling him the rest of the story. At first he thought I was teasing. When he finally realized I was serious, he claimed it was impossible. He believed will power alone could get him through the crisis. As the moodiness got worse, he started taking it out on me, blaming me for not telling him. And still the craving got worse. It’s like being a heroin addict. You feel that you can’t live without it. But with drug addiction, if you can suffer through the withdrawal long enough, the craving lessens and you can be cured. He thought his will power could help him over the hump. But with the change, the craving doesn’t ebb. It continues to increase in intensity. The only cure is the blood bath. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he tried killing a dog and using that blood. It didn’t work. He tried several animals without success. He even tried suicide, shooting himself. An hour later he woke up. His wounds were healing. He tried poison, hanging, drowning. All it did was increase the pain - he couldn’t die.”
The senator shook her head as the memories flowed back. “He asked me to kill him, but I refused. I needed him too much. He couldn’t ask another person to kill him. If he tried to explain, they would think he was crazy and lock him up. He didn’t know any of the Chosen - one isn’t officially in the Foundation until he or she has gone through one refreshening. Then the one giving him eternal life will register the newcomer with the Foundation.”
“Finally the pressure proved too much. He went out one night and came back covered with dried blood. Not an animal’s but human blood. I asked but he refused to tell me what happened that night. By morning, he was already growing young and the cravings were gone. But it was never the same.”
“Why? Did the killing give him a taste for the butchery?”
“Hardly. He abhorred the killing, and continued to blame me for it. He never tried suicide again, although there were some of our friends that would have been happy to help. I guess the rejuvenatio
n gave him a new lust for life. But he carried the guilt of the death with him, and he blamed me for it.” She tried a smile but it was a sad one. “Our intimacy was gone. Suddenly we were strangers. Together we went to the Foundation and got him registered. Weeks later, when we moved to assume new identities, he told me he was leaving, and he never wanted to see me again. I pleaded with him, to no avail. He walked away that day and we never laid eyes on each other again for nearly three centuries. Then he showed up in your jail.”
A thought came to Underwood. “Speaking of which, how did the Chosen know that he was there, not to mention the fact that they knew he was betraying them? How did they know to call you?”
The Senator shook her head, still with the sad smile on her lips. “I thought we agreed, I would not betray any of the secrets of the Chosen. You’ll have to solve that puzzle yourself, if you can. I’ve given you enough answers already. After all, politicians aren’t supposed to give answers. We only make you think you have an answer.”
It was quite a story and Underwood was impressed with her despite himself. “So, after three hundred years, you finally reunite with your lost love, just to kill him.”
O’Mullens was adamant. “The Chosen haven’t survived for all these years by announcing ourselves to every mortal that comes along. We must protect ourselves, and secrecy is our best protection. After all, you mortal beings fear and hate us because of our superiority.”
“Actually, we fear the Chosen because you prey on us.”
That brought a sniff from the senator, “There are members of your CIA that have more blood on their hands than the oldest of us.”
“Perhaps. But they don’t pick their victims at random.”
“We are not proud of this savage part of our essence, but death is a necessity. And we are not like the serial killers which appear quite often in your culture. Violence has always been an integral part of your society. And remember, we are created from your society.”
Underwood nodded in agreement. “Well yes, you did begin as human, but with all the improvements, both mental and physical, it seems as if you could rise above the human savagery.”
“We have evolved past your savagery. The Foundation helps our members in need, so theft is not a necessity the way it is in your society. For people that can look forward to living forever, there is no need to cram so much living into each second. Other than the physical needs of the regeneration process, there is very little violence among the Chosen.”
“Not counting Patrick’s victim, or his consequential murder, there have been six deaths relating to his case, all performed by members of the Chosen. I would hardly call that a peaceful society.”
The senator endeavored to make him understand. “But these acts of violence have been defensive acts. We are merely trying to defend the anonymity of our society from the ignorance of humans. Throughout history, humans have held us in revulsion, and attacked us whenever we were revealed.”
A derisive laugh escaped from Underwood’s lips. “Gee, that’s odd. You kill people, usually by torturing them, as Patrick did, and the people loathe you. What a surprise.”
A thought came to Underwood and he continued, “Why not turn everyone into a Chosen? That way nobody will fear you? Rather than attack innocent victims, you could hold gladiator contests between members who are ready to regenerate. The winner uses the loser’s blood to regenerate.”
“A good solution, but it’s been tried. There seems to be a difference in the blood of the Chosen, and their blood won’t work. We need human blood.”
“There must be a way to synthesize the necessary elements needed.”
“We have tried. That is the reason the Walachia Foundation was created so many centuries ago. Much of your own knowledge about blood derives from research performed by or funded by the Foundation. So far, the research has failed to find any substitutes for fresh human blood. But we continue to search for an answer. Most of us would welcome the opportunity to end the secrecy and deception. Maybe then all humankind could join us.”
Underwood paused to consider. “You know, the publicity on this case wouldn’t have been as great, and the revulsion as strong if you had just killed your victims a different way - shooting, hanging, or something.”
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Yeah, right. You shot me. Many times in fact. See how well that worked?”
It was hard to argue with that. “Okay, the normal methods of killing wouldn’t have worked with Patrick. But if you had just stopped with his assassination. You could have gotten the evidence without killing Williams and Bell. Then the whole thing would have blown over, and this whole brouhaha with the media would have been avoided. For a group who wants to keep a low profile, you sure have put yourself in the limelight.”
The Senator looked chagrined. “You’re absolutely right. I have made a mess of it. An unfortunate turn of events. I was told to take care of the traitorous Patrick because I had knowledge of the police station and could get to him easier. And I was directed to use the sacred sword as a warning to others. But when I lifted that sword and the blade began to swing, the ecstasy I felt! No orgasm was ever as sweet. I had killed before, but only in the throes of the craving - the need for rebirth. The feeling of power that sword gave me.” She licked her lips. “May the gods forgive me, I grew to love the killing.”
Underwood didn’t move. His face in an unflinching mask, he could almost feel his admiration for the woman melt away as he realized how little she cared about the deaths. Just like the politics she played, the lust for power was more important than the lives she harmed or destroyed. Power corrupts - absolute power corrupts absolutely. And who would have more power and crave even more than a group of immortals who could afford to wait years and even decades for their plans to bear fruit. These beings were virtual gods and, while they claimed to remember their roots, they looked down on the poor mortals as being inferior. Well he didn’t feel inferior.
Underwood stood up and pulled his revolver. The shotgun he placed across the arms of the chair he had been sitting in. Without taking his eyes off the shackled Senator, the Captain moved to the medical cabinet next to the door, and began opening drawers “I think I’ve heard enough for now.” He found and removed a scalpel from a drawer. “Now Senator, I’m going to partially remove your bonds. I want your word that you will not try to attack me as I do this. If you do I will be forced to use this gun.”
“Very well. I agree to your request. Anything to get free of these ridiculous restraints.”
The police officer quickly unlocked the handcuffs from the bed frame, leaving the key on the bed. Never taking the gun sight off her head, he then cut through the ropes, and nicked the edge of the surgical tape. A detour to the camera and the video tape was removed. He went back to the chair and picked up the shotgun. “You should be able to finish ripping off the tape in a few minutes, once I get out that door. If you try to follow me, I’ll blow your face off. Even if it doesn’t kill you, it’ll hurt like hell. And the video tape becomes public.”
“Your point is well taken, Captain. I’ll give you your head start.” She remained motionless, suppressing her urge to break free.
Underwood nodded, but did not take his eyes off her as he backed out the door. He quickly headed for the parking lot, got in his car and proceeded to his office.
Savannah has been called America’s first planned city. One hundred fourteen colonists, led by General James Edward Oglethorpe, arrived in 1732 at the Yamacraw Bluff on the Savannah River. This was the beginning of the last of the thirteen colonies. The founding of Georgia began as a barrier between the rest of the British colonies and Spanish Florida. General Oglethorpe enlisted the aid of Colonel William Bull in designing the settlement around a series of squares where public meetings could be held and public services were located. Shops and homes sprang up around the squares. In the planning twenty four squares were created. All but two survive to this day.
Located in the middle of this series of squ
ares, the Savannah Police Department stood right across the street from Colonial Park Cemetery, where many of the early founders of Georgia were buried. Underwood’s office overlooked the park. When he had a tough decision to make, he liked to look out his window down at where so many of the founding fathers of the city and state lay in peace, among the stately trees and majestic monuments. They too had their share of problems and he tried to imagine what they would do in the same situation.
As Captain Underwood approached his office, his secretary welcomed him with the usual pile of messages, announcements and requests that he was forced to shuffle through each day. The top message caught his eye. On his way through the door, he directed his secretary to get Hamilton and Hurst to his office immediately. Entering the office he punched the number on the message into the phone.
“FBI office. May I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m returning a call from Assistant Director Adkins.”
“One moment please.”
A brief pause, and “Adkins here.”
Underwood leaned back in the chair as he spoke. “Assistant Director Adkins, this is Captain Underwood from the Savannah Police. My secretary tells me you have an urgent need to speak to me.”
“Yes, Captain. I understand that Agent Palmer has been working with you on this unusual problem you seem to have. Could you fill me in on the case?”
Confusion swept the captain’s thoughts. This was not standard practice. “Certainly, sir. But if I may say so, Agent Palmer is aware of all of the particulars of the situation, up to a few days ago. Is he going to be present? I wouldn’t want it to seem like I was going over his head in this matter.”
