The Cygnus Virus

by Terry Zakreski

  He stands. They hug. He moves to kiss her cheek. She dodges it and smiles. Takes off her jacket and hangs it on the coat rack besides their booth with cushioned bench seating. She sits and holds her arms out.

  “See, nothing up my sleeves.”

  “Nothing but your lovely arms.”

  He’s grinning at her.

  “Thanks, but what’s with the eightball?”

  “My disguise, I guess.”

  “You’re an undercover accountant now?”

  He smiles.

  “Did you turn it off?”

  “Yes, Andron. Paranoid much?”

  “Just being careful.”

  They put in their breakfast orders. Their conversation is flavored with the taste of omelets, bagels, orange juice, coffee and tea.

  She chews on her food, sips on her tea and studies him. His eyes are hollow and he smacks his mouth too often. She looks at his shoulders and chest, then into his blue eyes.

  “I’m thinking accountant or mental patient.”

  “Hey, it’s my sexual solar panel.”

  He pats his head and laughs. He looks at her neck and smiles. She touches her diamond necklace and smiles back.

  “How are you, Andron?”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, as in shitty?”

  “Okay, as in I’ve been better.”

  “We’ve all been better.”

  “Guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  She looks up at his head.

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “Okay, smartass. Did you look into the stuff I told you about?”

  “Uh-huh, and I have some questions.”

  “A reporter with questions. You can interview me anytime, darling.”

  He winks.

  “Okay, Andron.”

  She holds an imaginary microphone toward him.

  “Are you planning to murder a baby?”

  “Naomi.”

  “Well, look at you.”

  His eyes look upward. His lips press together.

  “No…they need to, ah, get that kid in a machine right away for this to work and I intend to stop them. I want to save the kid and stop Cygnus even though I’m the one who’s likely going to end up stopped. For good.”

  His eyes moisten.

  “So why bother?”

  “Because. I have to.”

  “You don’t have to do anything Andron. You sound like a robot. You’re not an actor following a script. You can change the scene any time you want.”

  “I dunno, sometimes I feel as though our fates and destinies are written for us. Scripted by retarded monkeys with typewriters.”

  He looks down, his forearms resting on the table. She reaches for them.

  “That’s bullshit, Andron. It sounds like an excuse for stupidity. No one is ever locked into anything. Fate and destiny aren’t the author of these plans, Andron, you are.”

  “I want to believe that’s true…I don’t know. You have no idea what I’ve been through to get here.”

  “Usually, that’s exactly the right time to make a change, before it’s too late.”

  “I’m not sure that I should.”

  “You should do what you know is right and not because you’ve made a plan and now feel as though you have to stick to it.”

  He looks at her and she releases his forearms.

  “I feel as though I have a duty to perform. I’m not just being dutiful to my plans.”

  “It sounds as though you’re confusing duty with stubbornness. Andron, I’m worried for you. But I also know that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle. So you can handle undoing this.”

  “What…are you kidding me?”

  He leans forward.

  “God swamps our boats on a daily basis down here. The news the other day was all about some guy who slaughtered his family so he wouldn’t lose them in a divorce. Did God keep his handling under spec? What about his wife and kids?”

  “No, but it sounds like this man did a lot of evil by carrying out some stupid plan he came up with and then stupidly convinced himself that he didn’t have a choice.”

  “I guess I don’t think of the plan as evil. I see it as ridding the world from a great evil.”

  “Well, I’m actually not going to argue that, but that doesn’t justify breaking the law.”

  “What if you’re dealing with an organization that’s above the law?”

  “I can’t believe that there aren’t any legal options.”

  “Now who’s the lawyer?”

  “Andron, I talked to our editor. I’m pretty sure we can run a story about this. So that’s an option. Reporter speaking.”

  “The story would come out too late.”

  “Andron, maybe I don’t want you to be hurt. Has that ever occurred to you?”

  She’s stunned at her emotion. She brushes her hair back. He reaches for her hands. She enjoys his warmth for a moment and then pulls away.

  “Okay, more questions.”

  Andron sips on his coffee and looks at her.

  “Like?”

  She reaches in her purse, pulls out the corporate search and hands it to him.

  “Like, what the fuck, Andron?”

  He studies it for a while, expressionless. Then he hands it back to her.

  “He started putting shit like this together when we were away. That’s one of the reasons why he set us up. I played along for a while after as corporate counsel. Keep your enemies closer type of thing. I expect Alabaster & Co is doing everything now.”

  “Do you mind if I write this down?”

  “No, but Naomi, I told you to be careful looking under these rocks with this guy and his cronies.”

  “I have been, but I thought you wanted me to have the story?”

  “I do…I guess it’s my turn to be worried.”

  She takes out her notepad and writes down Alabaster & Co.

  She taps her notepad with her pen.

  “So who is Earthen Swan Entertainment and why are they funneling money to the Church?”

  “Wow, someone’s been doing their homework.”

  Naomi blushes and looks down.

  “Anything Earthen Swan is Cygnus’ puppy. Earthen Swan Genetics is a big dog that he uses to control the cloning project. It all started with the settlement of a lawsuit. The Church was suing one of my clients. He stage-managed a ridiculous settlement that gave him control over the whole thing.”

  Naomi’s writing this down. She flashes back to the financial statement that had the fat increase in donations and research in the same year. She taps the pen some more.

  “Which client?”

  “This is off the record?”

  “On or off the record is a blurred line with us, Andron. I’m as mixed up in this as you are.”

  “I just don’t want the guy bothered because he doesn’t know anything. So why don’t I just give you the name and you don’t write it down or talk to him.”

  “Okay, who is it?”

  He hesitates.

  “I guess I still don’t feel comfortable. Can we just call him a client?”

  “Okay, Andron. Then tell me about Earthen Swan Entertainment.”

  “Earthen Swan Entertainment is a dog for Cygnus to make money from games they’re playing on Earth. But it’s only the start. We built a helmet with electrodes and 3D displays where your mind goes through some kind of wormhole right into these games.”

  “It sounds like you two weren’t always enemies.”

  “We weren’t.”

  “So what happened?”

  “The man is fucking insane, Naomi. I’m telling you. And disgusting too. He tried to kill me when I was in one of these games. Yes, you can die. And I am more than certain that he had Nathan killed.”

  “Yeshua.”

  “Yes, his next phase.”

  “I don’t know, Andron. I think you could accomplish a lot if you came forward with this. I’m pretty sure my magazine would back you.”


  She wasn’t sure at all. Blurred lines.

  “Based on what you found?”

  “That and the file you showed me. Do you still have it?”

  “It’s in my room. I can give it to you if you want.”

  She looks at him and nods.

  Andron calls for the bill. They go up to his room without saying anything.

  They’re standing in the hallway. He can’t get his passkey to work. He looks back at her embarrassed, then tries a few different hand-swipes.

  “Fuck.”

  “Here, let me try.”

  He hands it over.

  “Okay, but I don’t think you’ll be able to…”

  She’s already in the room.

  She stops just past the doorway. She smells his sleeping smell in the room. Smells his tangy sweat. She can feel his energy. The energy of a man who’s endured everything. She wants that energy in her.

  He wraps his arms around her. She can feel him hard against her. She presses back. He runs his hands up her sides. It tickles. Over her breasts. It warms. He brushes her hair aside and kisses her neck. She moans. He kisses her cheek.

  She smiles. Half closes her eyes.

  He takes her jacket off and hangs it. She turns to him. They kiss. His tongue is in her mouth. She wants it. She walks backwards with him in a tango where clothes drop with each step. She runs her hands over his face.

  She moans.

  She’s on the bed open to him.

  His mouth, his tongue. He consumes her with gratitude and adoration. He doesn’t extract pleasure like other men. He infuses it. Other men make her feel like a fuck toy. He makes her feel like a goddess.

  He’s on top of her. He nibbles on her ear and drives into her. She runs her fingers down his back and pulls him in deeper. He’s sweating, panting and wild. He lifts himself up so that their only point of touching is where they are joined. Skin on skin. Flesh on flesh.

  His face is ecstasy and pain. He is the suffering man

  She is the goddess of springtime.

  They come together.

  They fall together.

  They are together.

  He’s collapsed on her, head buried next to her, shaking in her arms. She lightly strums her fingers over his scars.

  Shush, broken man. Shush, strong man.

  Just like that, he changes. She feels him tense up. Feels him get cold.

  He gets off and out of her. She turns to him, runs her fingers over his chest. He turns on his back.

  “What’s the matter, honey?”

  “Know what I find fascinating?”

  He’s looking at the ceiling. Writing in the air.

  “What, sweetheart?”

  “How little we actually matter.”

  “We all matter, Andron.”

  “Really? Have you ever thought about it?”

  He turns on the bed to face her.

  “How many people do you think you matter to, for example? I mean, really matter to? Matter to the point where they actually would care if you suffered or died?”

  “Just because someone doesn’t know you, doesn’t mean that you don’t matter.”

  “I’m not talking about people who know about you. Or know of you. I’m talking about people who actually give a shit about you. Lots of people know celebrities, for example. But not that many people actually care about them, because they don’t actually know anything about them.”

  “Well, crazed fans seem pretty passionate about the celebrities they’re stalking. I guess when you’re a public figure, that sort of thing goes with the territory.”

  “Well, you’re a public figure. Let’s use you for an example.”

  “O-kay.”

  She’s resting her head on her hand and uses the other to clutch the sheet and pull it over her breasts.

  “So how many people do you think actually care about you. A thousand? Two thousand? You’re not answering. Let’s put it at ten. So the world’s population is about what? Seven billion?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  He grabs his cell phone and punches in some numbers.

  “Okay, it’s official. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine-nine percent of the population doesn’t give a fuck about you or what happens to you.”

  “That’s pretty depressing, I guess.”

  “It’s only fitting though, since you don’t give a fuck about them. I mean right now, somebody’s fucking, getting fucked, getting tortured, winning the lottery, losing a bet, getting crushed, having their spirit broken, crashing, bleeding, shitting, breathing their last and you simply don’t give a fuck.”

  “How am I supposed to give a fuck when I don’t even know them?”

  “That’s the point. You don’t know them. They don’t know you. They don’t matter, neither do you.”

  She doesn’t say anything. He’s sitting up. Using his hands to explain.

  “Just think about how important people think they are in their own little minds when they’re really not. All this internal banter and views of the world. They always assume it’s important. That movies could be made about their ordinary experiences.”

  She turns her back to him.

  “Yet if people were actually as captivating as they think they are, random people would be stopping them on the street to beg to hear their life story. Since, as rule, most people don’t give a shit at all, you can safely conclude that your own deluded sense of yourself is pretty exaggerated.”

  “I think I better leave.”

  “Up to you, cupcake.”

  She slides off the bed, collects her clothes. She’s naked and ashamed.

  She’s covering her body with her dress, knees together.

  “I’m not sure what’s gotten into you, Andron. You think I have too high of an opinion of myself…fine, I suppose I do. I won’t apologize for that. You think I don’t matter to most people, well, that’s fine, too. But at least I thought you had a high opinion of me…

  “I thought…

  “I thought that, whether I mattered to anyone else, I thought I at least mattered to you.”

  She’s crying and staring at him. He turns to her.

  “Maybe you just need another MRI.”

  She stares back stunned with quivering lips for a long moment and then runs to the bathroom, wiping away tears.

  She dresses, runs water, cleans herself and fixes her makeup.

  She looks at herself in the mirror.

  What an asshole.

  She walks back out.

  “You know what, Andron?”

  He looks at her.

  “You can go fuck yourself.”

  She hurls the diamond chain at him. It hits him on shoulder.

  He doesn’t flinch.

  The door slams shut and she is gone.

  Gone.

  He’s shivering on the bed with the ring of her words, the sting of her diamonds, the scent of her body, and tears running down his cheeks and into his ears.

  Shouldn’t have lied. Fate’s sealed.

  Goodbye.

  Chapter 39:

  Silent Night

  Juliette rushes to the bathroom after yet another room service meal. She and Joe are watching TV. But her body has other plans. She tries to clean herself after with toilet paper, but there’s not enough.

  She comes out of the bathroom with a change of clothes.

  “Joe…I think my water broke.”

  He looks at her, nods and then goes back to the game on TV.

  A half-minute passes.

  “Did you just say your water broke?”

  She nods and smiles.

  “Ho-lee.”

  He jumps off the bed, trips and nearly falls. He throws some things into a suitcase and then dashes for his cell phone.

  “Uhm hello…it’s Joe…Magi Protocol…yes.”

  Moments later there’s a knock on the door. Scott rushes in.

  “Ma’am, I need to verify your Magi status.”

  Juliette’s sitting on the bed.


  “Yes, Scott.”

  Scott touches his ear.

  “Affirmatory. Engage Magi Protocol. Repeat. We are green for Magi Protocol.”

  Men come and go asking Juliette about her Magi status. They tell others and the others tell others. Joe’s struggling to close the suitcase.

  Juliette shakes her head and groans.

  The curse of the Magi.

  Men.

  A nurse comes in at last. She sits beside Juliette and does something none of the other Magis thought to. She holds Juliette’s hand.

  “How are you, Juliette?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you need any help cleaning up?”

  “I think I got most of it, but it’s still coming out.”

  “That’s completely normal.”

  After a quick check, she helps Juliette to her feet.

  Sisterhood protocol, thank God.

  She’s in a black limo with Joe, Scott and Geoff. They’re in a motorcade of black cars and flashing lights sharking through traffic.

  Time for a security briefing.

  Juliette listens to Scott’s scratchy voice. The scar running over his lip is more pronounced in the dim light.

  “Mrs. Tucana, we’ve received actual that they’re green for us at the LZ.”

  “Do you mean the hospital, Scott?”

  “Affirmative. Ma’am, the four-one-one is that there are friendlies and hostiles massing. We may be heading into a big bag of smashed assholes here. A complete Charlie Foxtrot. So stay frosty and square up.”

  Scott thrusts out his large hands to explain.

  “We’ll make a wedge like this in front and behind you. So keep your hand on my six at all times. We thrust forward and then stop. Push, push, push…then stop. Push push push. Do you copy?”

  Juliette laughs. Country pure voice.

  “Scott, are you describing what I am supposed to do when I get out of the car or what I’m supposed to do when I get to the delivery room?”

  Scott smiles.

  “Negative, ma’am, just stay close, okay?”

  He touches his ear.

  “Alright, lock and load. You two get down.”

  Juliette puts her head on Joe’s lap and Joe leans over her. Juliette braces for their limo to be pelted, for screams, for something terrible, but nothing happens.

  When they get out, Juliette thinks they’re at the wrong place. There’s nobody blocking their way. After a few steps she turns back to look.