by J. R. McLeay
To complete the transformation of his nascent tree, he placed the tiny specimen into a shallow dish of moistened peat moss and crushed limestone, then sprinkled onto the growing medium a small amount of synthetic indoleacetic acid—a plant hormone used to stimulate the growth of the apical stem and facilitate new root generation. To support the delicate juvenile organism from bending under the force of gravity, he wound a loose ring of electrical wire around the thin stem, and secured it to a sturdy post bolted to the base of the pot. His final act before turning in for the night was to gently tie a thin insect net around the entire apparatus, then place it in his air conditioned greenhouse on the roof deck.
Let’s hope the operation on Friday goes as smoothly as this one, Rick mused, as he turned out the lights and headed to bed.
29
Jennifer had been looking forward to this evening all week. Although she had enjoyed her trip to California with Rick, she’d found him a little too preoccupied with the clinical task of collecting the local flora to satisfy her desire for meaningful bonding time. Tonight, she’d arranged for the two of them to go dancing, where she hoped to have some fun they could both enjoy. At nine-thirty p.m. her intercom buzzed, and the doorman announced Rick’s arrival at her building.
“Send him up, Joe,” Jennifer announced, as she checked herself one last time in the hallway mirror. She was wearing dark skinny jeans over black patent pumps, with a billowy purple and yellow patterned silk blouse. Her softly highlighted auburn hair fell gently over her shoulders, and smoky eye shadow completed her sexy and sophisticated look. Thirty seconds later, she heard two taps on the door.
“Hello, beautiful!” Rick announced, as she swung open the door and he swept her into his arms with a warm, passionate kiss.
“Hello yourself, handsome.” Jennifer said, separating herself from his embrace long enough to appraise his attire. Under his unbuttoned overcoat, Rick was wearing navy flat-front trousers with square-toed Ferragamo shoes, and a tightly fitting striped sport shirt that hugged every inch of his well-formed torso.
“Mmm, I’ll have some of that, please.”
“That can be arranged,” Rick said, moving forward and gently pressing his hips against hers, as he ran his fingers through her flowing hair.
“Later, tiger. We’ve got some dancing to do—remember?”
“Oh yeah. So where are you taking me?”
“That new club downtown where Eva and I went a few weeks ago, called the Hippodrome. Totally cool, and very hip. After all that quiet solitude communing with nature this past weekend, I’m ready to get down and kick up my heels with some slightly more evolved life forms.”
Twenty minutes later, the two emerged from the elevator on the forty-eighth floor of the Times Square Marriott to the booming sound of club music. Working their way to the reception desk, Jennifer announced herself to the concierge, and he motioned them into the main room.
“That was smooth,” Rick remarked, noticing the long line. “Do you always get such preferential treatment?”
“I think they believe I’m some kind of VIP, since I arrived here last time with Eva.”
“Maybe they just like pretty ladies in their establishment.”
“Come on, you flirt—let’s get a drink.”
“What would you like?” Rick asked, as they inched up to the bar moments later.
“A Cosmopolitan, please.”
“One Cosmo, and one Grey Goose, straight up,” Rick said, catching the bartender’s attention. Looking around the club, he was impressed by the size and energy of the crowd. “You weren’t kidding about this place—it’s really hopping tonight.”
“Yes, it’s a great place to let your hair down after a slow week.”
“Was our little hike up the mountain all that horribly boring for you?”
“Well, it was good exercise, and I enjoyed seeing you get excited about finding your old tree. I guess I just don’t have quite the same passion for dendrology as you do.”
“That’s ok,” Rick chuckled, handing Jennifer her drink when the bartender returned, “we all have our individual passions."
“Speaking of which—check out the action on the dance floor.”
Jennifer motioned to the flashing stage, where a large group of excited juveniles were bumping and grinding to the loud beat.
“They’re certainly getting their groove on,” Rick said. “Shall we join them?”
“Absolutely!”
As Rick and Jennifer pressed their way onto the dance podium and began to move to the music, Jennifer smiled as her eyes met Rick’s. He was light on his feet and had a natural rhythm that made him all the more appealing. Unfortunately, she found it difficult to match his steps as she was constantly being bumped and jostled by other dancers moving aggressively on the floor. After the second song ended, Rick could see that Jennifer was growing increasingly distracted, and took her by the hand to an open table where he ordered another round of drinks.
“Is it me, or do they seem a little overly vigorous tonight?” he remarked to Jennifer.
“Yes—and not only on the dance floor,” she replied, slowly panning the room. Everywhere she looked, couples in various gender combinations were expressing their physical interest in one another in open and obvious displays of desire. Even more than she remembered in her previous outing with Eva, this time the club-goers were kissing and groping each other with unusual abandon, seemingly uninhibited by the public setting.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been out to a dance club,” Rick remarked, “but I don’t remember it like this. It’s strange, because I had a somewhat similar experience earlier this week outside U.N. headquarters. At the time, I didn’t know what to make of it, but now I’m wondering if this might be related.”
“You found people kissing and fondling like this on the street?” Jennifer exclaimed.
“No, in that case it was a group of protesters, but their behavior was also far more aggressive than usual.”
“What do you think is going on?”
“Who knows? Maybe it’s just a matter of the young generation continuing to loosen its morals. Or strengthening its convictions, depending on which side you look at.”
“Maybe we’re just getting old,” Jennifer laughed.
“Except we’re not getting any older than the rest of these people, remember? At least not physiologically.”
“Perhaps we just need to get out more,” Jennifer mused.
“Maybe you’re right. Do you want to give the dance floor another try?”
“In a minute,” Jennifer said, feeling the perspiration beading on her brow. “I’d like to freshen up first.”
As she began making her way through the throbbing crowd toward the restrooms, Jennifer couldn’t help noticing the way some of the patrons looked at her. Leering, many of them made no pretense about their designs on her—and on her body. Finally lurching into the relative solitude of the ladies room, she was thankful to find a temporary respite from the madness. The restroom was filled with women primping and posturing at the mirror, and she found an open lavatory and closed the door behind her.
Shortly after she sat down on the commode, she heard a rustling sound in the compartment next to her. Trying to mind her own business, she decided she’d ask Rick to take her home soon, where the two of them could find a more peaceful setting to enjoy each other’s company. But just as she was about to flush the toilet, she heard the unmistakable sound of two people in the amorous act of sexual union, coming from the next stall. Unsure if it was two females, or a male and a female who had snuck into the women’s lavatory, their grunting and shuffling noises gradually grew louder and more pronounced. Frozen in shock, she jumped suddenly when the partition shook with a loud bang as someone shifted violently against the wall. To Jennifer’s dismay, the partition soon after began shaking rhythmically, as it was obvious one of the lovers was pounding and thrusting against the other. As their grunting and breathing pitched to a noisy climax, Jennifer
flushed her toilet and made a hasty exit from the parlor.
Returning to her table, Rick noticed Jennifer seemed flushed and distracted.
“Are you all right? You seem upset.”
“You won’t believe what just happened in the restroom.”
“Some kind of disturbance?”
“Well, it was physical all right—but I think these two were engaged in more amorous kind of intercourse.”
“In the restroom?!”
“In the stall next to me. It was unmistakable. They were very noisy, and made no effort to disguise their activity.”
“Do you think it was two females, or a male and a female?”
“Judging by the shaking of the partition separating us, and the tone of their voices, I’d say it was the latter.”
“Incredible. Everything’s really turning upside down, isn’t it?”
“Something’s turning upside down,” Jennifer mused. “Can we get out of here Rick? I need some fresh air.”
As Rick and Jennifer emerged from the hotel into the chilly November air, Rick turned and held his shaking girlfriend in his arms.
“Rick, you know I’m no prude,” Jennifer said, “but that was just crazy. What people choose to do in the privacy of their own homes is fine with me, but this kind of public behavior is unnerving. And it’s not really the sex that bothers me—that might almost be kind of titillating in any other situation—but a lot of those people upstairs had a crazy look about them.”
“I know, I was thinking the same thing. I think we should run some lab tests tomorrow to see if we can find out what’s going on. It might be nothing, but we can’t afford to be unsure.”
“I agree,” said Jennifer, beginning to warm up. “Can we walk for a bit? I just need to calm down.”
“Sure, let’s get away from Times Square—this way looks a bit quieter.”
Rick and Jennifer turned off Broadway, and headed in the direction of the East Side. For a while, neither said anything as they bundled close to each other in the frigid, late autumn air.
“You know,” Rick said after a while, “we’re not all that far from the Garden of Eden church. Would you mind if we took a little detour and headed over there for just a minute? I’ve always wanted to see what that church looks like up close.”
“Isn’t that where your unpredictable cult leader resides? Why would you want to get any closer than necessary to this lunatic?”
“It’s just a feeling I have. His son is scheduled for a hypophysectomy operation tomorrow afternoon. Calvin’s been conspicuously silent and absent this entire week. I just wanted to see if there’s any sign of activity at his place.”
“As long as we don’t go inside or aren’t likely to run into him. That’s the last bit of additional excitement I need tonight.”
“I promise we’ll turn around if we see any sight of him.”
Jennifer pulled Rick closer.
“Are you worried he’s planning some kind of intervention prior to the operation?”
“He’s definitely capable of it,” Rick admitted, “and he’s certainly expressed his outrage over the decision to operate. But we’ve got the hospital on alert, and Calvin’s already on probation from an earlier incident. I’m sure he knows he can’t stop the procedure and that it would only make life more difficult for himself and his son if he were to attempt any further disturbance.”
“Maybe. But in the old days, parents were known to go to extreme lengths to protect their children, and his brand of self-possessed evangelism makes him all the more dangerous. I hope you’ll be watching out for him.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve already taken every necessary precaution.”
As they turned off 2nd Avenue onto a darkened side street, Rick looked up and saw the outline of a tall, thin steeple etched against the inky sky. Although he had researched the location of Calvin’s church previously, he recognized it immediately. Just as he imagined, the shadowy Gothic structure stood proudly defiant amongst its sleek and modern contemporaries. Sitting on barely a quarter of an acre, its vaulted roof soared above the two- and three-story facades of its storefront neighbors. But as he got closer, Rick noticed the brickwork was dusty and crumbling, and in obvious need of repair. Four arched stained glass windows flanked each of the two long sides of the nave, and the front entrance was marked by a heavy, double-sided wooden door. Surrounding the perimeter of the property was a black wrought-iron fence topped with spiked finials. Inside the fence, resting in the dark mist amongst bare apple trees, sat many angled and worn tombstones marking the graves of long departed souls.
“This place is totally creepy,” Jennifer intoned. “Does Calvin actually live here?”
“I believe so,” Rick said, looking up to see any sign of habitation. At the rear of the structure on the north wall near the very top, he saw a dull orange light glowing through a tiny window. Just a few feet further above, a faint plume of gray smoke spilled from a chimney. For a split second, Rick thought about knocking on the door to the church and trying to negotiate a truce with the enigmatic cult leader. But Jennifer’s trembling arm and his inner voice convinced him otherwise, and the two of them continued walking past the eerie church in silence.
“An apt setting for an anachronistic old relic, don’t you think?” Jennifer remarked when they reached the corner. “Can we go home now? I think I’ve had quite enough of a fright tonight. And besides—you’re going to need a good night’s rest for another difficult day tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope not,” Rick said, flagging a cab.
As they pulled away from the dark church, Rick looked up at the lonely steeple and couldn’t help feeling something was strangely familiar about the place.
30
Shortly after sunrise the next day, a discordant note interrupted the morning melody of an eastern song sparrow outside Mount Sinai Medical Center. As Rick expected, the Garden of Eden protest group had encamped at the front gate, voicing loud objections to Elias’s planned surgery and attempting to bar entrance to anyone looking like a hospital worker. It was a larger group than usual and growing increasingly antagonistic as the morning wore on, but the local police were out in force and so far had kept the disturbance under control.
More troubling for Rick was that Calvin was once again missing in action. Normally, under such circumstances, this would be a welcome departure. But today, Rick found his absence highly suspicious and unnerving. He had thought Calvin would want to take a public stand against the operation he considered so immoral and attempt to stoke sympathy for his abused rights as a parent. Rick thought he might even try to physically disrupt the operation itself; the only thing that would be giving Calvin pause was his recently issued probation. But Rick also knew that wasn’t enough to deter sufficiently motivated offenders, and Calvin certainly had plenty of motivation to intervene in this case.
With these considerations in mind, Rick had taken extraordinary precautions for this morning’s operation. After putting the hospital’s security staff on high alert, he’d arranged to have the operating room fortified with reinforced locking glass doors and requested two guards to protect the entrance during the procedure. If Calvin or any of his followers managed to get past the perimeter, at least they’d find it difficult to breach the actual operating theater. Rick simply couldn’t afford these kind of distractions during the sensitive and precarious hypophysectomy operation.
After washing up in the scrub room, Rick nodded to the guards as he entered the operating suite, where the surgical team was preparing the patient and Jennifer looked on from the elevated observation deck.
“Good Morning, Elias,” Rick announced to his gowned patient lying on the operating table. “I’m Dr. Ross, and I’ll be your surgeon today. We’ve got the best team in the hospital looking after you, so you needn’t worry about a thing. Do you have any questions before we begin?”
“Not really…” Elias said tentatively, then pausing. “Will it hurt?”
“You won’t feel a
thing,” Rick promised, smiling at the familiar question. “We’re going to put you to sleep soon, and when you wake up, you’ll be good as new. You might feel a bit weak for a few hours after the operation, but other than that the only thing you’ll notice will be a little patch on your stomach.”
As a gesture of confidence, Rick lifted his gown to show Elias his own patch.
“And that patch is going to keep me alive and forever young?”
It was obvious that Elias still harbored some lingering doubts from his conversations with his father.
“Yes…at least as long as we know.”
Rick paused. Although it wasn’t really his job to deal with such issues, he nevertheless wanted to hear it directly from Elias before proceeding.
“Are you absolutely sure you’re ready to do this?” he asked.
Elias didn’t hesitate.
“Yes. I want to stay young, like you and everybody else…as long as you’re sure it’s safe.”
“We’ve performed thousands of these operations, and you can see how healthy and youthful all of us are,” Rick said, as he looked at his assembled surgical team.
In a show of support, they all raised their smocks and displayed their patches to Elias.
“Soon,” Elias said excitedly, “I’ll be just like the rest of you!”
“We’ll see you on the other side, son,” Rick said as he silently nodded for Mac to initiate the intravenous anesthesia.
As soon as he saw Elias fall off to sleep, Rick quickly moved over to the operating room doors and pushed the newly installed locking bolts into the concrete floor.
