His legs burn. He needs to get in better shape. He’ll work on that with the fifteen or so minutes he has remaining on this planet.
Fifth’s got to be right, judging by the activity and security. He tries the door. It’s locked. He will just have to wait for someone to come through.
He reaches for the Walther, but decides to leave it holstered.
Baby Nero is only yards away, he bets. The miles he’s traveled. The men he’s pretended to be. The man he was. The insane journey that began with a mouse-click.
He waits at the door. A door you go in and never out.
It flings open.
Two men race past by while Andron hides. They run down the stairs. He hears one of them say something about a girl, but concentrates on catching the door.
He holds it with his foot. He pulls out the Walther, flicks off the safety and puts it back. He pulls his sweaty shirt loose. He walks through the door.
Killer on the move. Zero to Nero.
He’s soon swimming upstream. Something enormous just happened and everyone’s leaving.
He catches snippets of conversations about a girl. Thomas O’Brian flies by with all color drained from his face, talking on his cell.
“…I don’t give a fuck what you-uh have to do, darling. Get Dr. Frick on the line. Tell him-uh it’s a fucking girl.”
He nears the room. He reaches for the gun. Another two go by him.
“I don’t get it, Christos was a girl?”
“Beats me.”
He pulls his hand away from the gun.
A girl?
He flashes back to what Cygnus said about trying to move from male to female in a reincarnation results in Final Extinction and DNA reversion.
Hahahaha, you fucktard.
He’s at Juliette’s door.
He tries to get a peek at the infant dragon slayer.
He sees Juliette. Madonna with child. She looks at him with soft brown eyes. His knees slightly buckle. Freedom and forgiveness wash over.
He wouldn’t have been able. Not by a long shot.
She smiles at him. Smiles at him to his core. Her smile crosses a void. She smiles at us.
A nurse taps his shoulder.
“Sir, you can’t go in here.”
“Sorry, my mistake.”
He nods at Juliette and heads back through the door.
Alive.
~ At the Fourth Circle ~
He’s the first man who genuinely seems happy about her baby.
Except for Joe. He’s on cloud nine.
Everyone else is just pretending to be nice. Mr. O’Brian didn’t even try to pretend. He just marched right in and insisted on looking himself.
“They’re not just hiding somewhere?”
“No, Mr. O’Brian, Joe didn’t snip the wrong cord.”
All the faces are lies. Hers is the truth. The tiger she’s been dreaming about. Maybe not the Yeshua the world wants, but the savior it needs. She can feel it.
She came out of her all covered in slime. Curly hair. Eyes wide open. Doctor patted her on the bum to get her to cry and I’m surprised she didn’t slug him right back. The look on her face.
Joe didn’t know what to think. After they took her to clean her, he came right up to me.
“Ho-lee, Juliette, I think Yeshua must have been a girl, cause I’m pretty sure that’s what we got.”
“I don’t know about that, Joe, but she’s a miracle for sure.”
He was moping about not being Yeshua’s parents. That lasted until I let him hold her. I reckon that’s the last frown he’ll ever wear around her. She’s already got him wrapped around her finger.
“Right, Joe?”
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
“I think she just smiled.”
She’s moving around making faces. Sticking out her little tongue at me. She has her little cap on. Bundled right up. Smells as fresh as can be. Like a baby.
You’re going to change the world, aren’t you, my little tiger?
A-boo.
A-boo.
“Have you two thought of a name for her?
Another nurse, pretending to be nice.
“Joe and I have been talking and we’ve taken a shining to Lysandra.”
“That’s a nice name.”
~ At the Fifth Circle ~
Thomas has Dr. Frick on the line. He’s taken over the hospital administrator’s office. He sees that the man still uses the coffee mug he pissed in.
“How in the fuck did this-uh happen?”
We went over the samples hundreds of times, Mr. O’Brian, I swear. This one must have got past us.
“Yeshua Christos, you-uh stupid fucking turd. Our asses are going to burn-uh over this. Burn. I want a Yeshua with-uh pair of nuts. How soon can you-uh make me one?
Long silence.
We can’t do it without Christian’s help Mr. O’Brian.
“Yeshua Christos, who did we-uh clone then?”
I have no idea, sir.
He hangs up. Runs his fingers through his hair. How can he spin this? How? The Church is going to lose all support. Everyone will turn against him.
Lord Yeshua, thank you for the-uh lesson in humility. But how can we-uh be your light in the world without donations and-uh celebrity endorsements?
Inspiration strikes. Yeshua answers.
The Church can still make money.
He reaches for his leather-bound Gospel of Mary and the Cloth and goes straight to 5:1–6.
Ch. 5 — The Blood of Mary
1) You have your birthright.
2) She recalls his words. She is not sure why. Her mouth is bleeding. She uses part of the burial cloth to wipe it away.
3) “At least our blood will be together.”
4) She folds the cloth, and heads for Jerusalem, where Simon is waiting.
5) “O Master, would that we will one day live again.”
6) She prays and prays.
Thomas smiles.
Celebrities will pay a mint pay to see Mary Magdalene.
~ At the Sixth Circle ~
Naomi holds a microphone under her chin, her back to the hospital, hand over her ear.
That’s what we’re hearing. The child is rumored to be a girl. As you can see this is a big bombshell in a day of explosions.
She turns to the large crowd pressing up against the barricades. The camera pans with her.
And so nobody’s sure whether this means that Yeshua was a girl or if they cloned the wrong person. Either way the Church of the Holy Cloth is bound to get an undressing.
Naomi Felder. Action Eight News.
She holds the smile until the camera light goes off.
“How was I?”
“My God, that was friggin’ amazing. Brains and beauty, such a wicked combination. You’re going to go far, kid.”
“Thanks, Wes.”
She turns back to look at the hospital. Shields her eyes from the sun.
She wonders about Andron. Whether he’s heard the news and whether it changes anything. Hopefully they didn’t try and stick that baby girl into some awful machine.
She doubts that he was behind the bombing. But he still acted like a complete jackass the last time she saw him. After she calmed down, she sensed that he was just trying to push her away and tried to call him, but she wasn’t going to be the one doing the crawling.
Still, it would be a pretty big story if he came forward. The tide of public opinion will soon be turning on the Church.
I bet David will kill for my story now.
It’s a bright day and her future never looked brighter. Her hips slightly twirl.
~ At the Seventh Circle ~
All the way down the stairs he sings Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye.
The Shaman is dead and he is free, released from the shackles of his fate and destiny. He’s out the exit and back in the plaza of Bethlehem Hospital.
What now?
The bell rings Naomi.
Getting to her is
going be tricky. The hospital’s still on lockdown and he’s likely to be a bombing suspect soon, if he isn’t already.
Just go through the front doors and find her.
She’ll forgive him once he gives her the exclusive of the century.
If he goes to jail for his car-bombing, so be it. In any prison cell, in any locked room, however they bind him, he will be free.
Simply walking out the front door turns out to be a bust. He’s informed by a stiff-lipped fat nurse that he’s not allowed out there without discharge papers. He mutters something about a smoke and goes back in.
This time he heads to the unguarded general surgery ward. He hunts around for vacant rooms and rifles through lockers until he finds some reasonably fitting clothes. Reasonable fitting, but not very fresh smelling.
They remind him of his days as Jim the Chisel. He removes the clip and tosses the Walther in a surgical trash bin.
He’s glad to be rid of it.
He makes it out of the hospital in his borrowed civilian clothes. He’s hit by the bright May sun. Everyone’s buzzing with the news.
Was Yeshua a girl?
He doubts that. But whoever this girl is, he loves her. Not even out of her mother, she saved the world from an alien invasion.
The day is full of possibilities. May fifth. Cinco de Mayo.
He sees Naomi. Their eyes lock. She’s across from the main entrance, standing with her crew. He nods and smiles.
He walks to her with a fresh swagger. He may be wearing another man’s smelly clothes and doesn’t have a penny to his name, but he feels like a million bucks.
Someone shouts behind him.
…Mr. Varga?
…Andron?
It’s Scott.
Andron tries to stay calm.
Scott jogs up.
“Scott, I never expected to see…”
Scott pulls out a gun. His scarred face is twisted with rage. He spits.
“Varga, you son of a bitch.”
He shoots Andron in the stomach and Andron doubles over with his arms crossed, mouth open and eyes bulging. The police grab Scott.
Andron tries to stay up on his wobbly legs with his ironic grin but falls face down on the dirty asphalt.
Staring at Naomi.
~ At the Eighth Circle ~
She sees a face across the street. Their eyes lock.
Andron.
She puts her hands on her hips. This ought to be interesting.
A large man pushes his way through the crowd.
He’s got a gun.
Shots ring out. Andron goes down. She screams. The crowd breaks over the barricade. He’s lying on the pavement.
She’s about to run up to him but the police are still struggling with the assailant. He breaks free and tries going after Andron again.
The police yell at him and then start firing. Staccato rapid shots.
Everyone runs. An elderly lady holding a sign Our Lord Has Returned gets pushed down and is trampled.
Screaming. Death. Confusion.
“I’ve had enough, let’s get out of here.”
“But we have the camera rolling.”
“I don’t care, it’s not safe.”
They’re driving away in the news van. No one talks to her.
She has her head in her hands and is shaking.
Wes is on his cell with the station chief and driving. She can hear shouting on the other end.
“He wants to talk to you.”
Wes hands her his cell.
What the hell, Naomi, why did you order my crew to leave an active scene?
“The man that they shot, okay, was like coming to see me. I know him and he’s involved in all of this. I have tons of information, okay, and the same people that shot him might have been coming after me, okay?”
Oh my God. Do you have anything you can send?
“All of it.”
Everyone in the van is open-mouthed and gawking at her. Wes looks at her in the rearview.
“That’s friggen…”
“Wes, look out.”
A Chariot Logistics trailer is skidding toward them.
Andron’s cell finally fell into the spinning wheels, flew apart and severed a brake line. When the driver slammed his brakes for the traffic jam, the trailer jackknifed.
It slams into the van. Glass shatters. Millions of joules of go is converted into bent metal, broken bones, severed arties, heat and noise.
Smashed wiring. Lights go out.
The van’s in flames.
Popping sounds.
A hubcap rolls to a stop.
Action Eight News. No longer reporting live.
~ At the Ninth Circle ~
Joe rushes in.
“There’s been a shooting outside the hospital and they’re rioting.”
“Joe, you take her, I need to think.”
She’s rocking in her bed, rubbing her palms in her eyes.
“Maybe if we came out and said something?”
“I don’t know, Juliette, that might be a bit dangerous.”
“I want to go home. I just want to go home. Do you think they’ll let us?”
Joe’s looking down at Lysandra.
“I don’t know. Maybe. The nurse says that we should be doing the feeding soon. Maybe we can ask if there’s something we can do. Go on TV or something. Everyone’s so crazy and she’s so calm.”
He turns to her.
“Say, Juliette.”
Juliette?
She’s making gurgling sounds and is twitching.
“Nurse. God, someone please help.”
Lysandra is in the nursery and he’s in the hallway waiting.
A doctor walks up.
“I am sorry, Mr. Tucana. She’s had a massive stroke. She fought hard and we did all we could to save her but I am afraid she didn’t make it.”
……what do you mean?
He’s shaking. The doctor puts his hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Joe. You can go in and see her if you like, before they take her away.”
Joe goes white. He walks in the room trembling with each step. A nurse is pulling breathing tubes out of Juliet’s nose and yanking off tape like she’s a body on a slab. She sees Joe and moves away.
Joe doesn’t accept what he’s seeing. His mind is spinning.
Are those the lips that kissed me? Are those the arms that held me? Are those the legs that danced?
Where is the voice that called me? Where is the voice that sang?
Where?
He clutches Juliet’s white hand.
It’s limp and cold.
The white ball falls out of its orbit and jitterbugs in a slot. The roulette wheel clicks down. The Grand Croupier puts the glass marker on an empty square.
Zéro.
Black suit, white gloves. He adjusts his shirtsleeves.
And rakes in all the bets.
Chapter 42:
Death
The Death card in Tarot isn’t about physical death. It’s about change. One cycle ends, another begins.
Andron sees clouds go by from his gurney. He sees sky.
…sir, can you hear me?…
He’s carted inside the hospital. Fluorescent lights go by like lines on a highway.
He slips under.
He’s talking to Cygnus again, with a rum and coke in hand, in his townhouse. The TACHY sits on his lap.
Cygnus ribs him about being a lawyer. He says that with all the progress they’ve made, they still haven’t found a way to get rid of them.
They’re still pissing everyone off, those assholes.
“I guess my job’s probably safe for now, then.”
Probably until the end of time, dude.
Andron swirls the ice around in his drink.
“So how does it all end then, this story?”
You mean the end of everything?
“Yeah.”
It doesn’t.
“Everything has to end, Cygnus.”
Dude, I can whip up something to show you otherwise.
“Oh God, please, I think I’ve seen enough of those.”
Ha-ha no, this one will be straight-up, I promise. Go freshen your drink. I just need a few minutes.
Andron pours himself another rum and coke, returns to the Bridge and straps on the TACHY.
Almost there.
“Take your time, Cyg.”
Okay.
GO.
The TACHY lights up and Andron flashes through.
They’re in an empty lecture hall. Andron is sitting a few rows back. Cygnus is standing in front of a chalkboard. He’s turned himself into Albert Einstein. He’s wearing a sweater.
Everything is black and white, like an old newsreel. Andron looks at his hands for a while and then back at Cygnus.
Of course, it wouldn’t be Cygnus if Einstein wasn’t also wearing leather chaps with his balls out.
“C’mon, Cygnus, I know the guy didn’t like wearing socks, but this is a bit ridiculous.”
Vaht? My eggs need to breathe.
“Whatever, Cyg.”
Now, zare are two strange forces in zee universe without which none of dis vill make sense.
Zeeze strange forces are gravity and dark matter.
Gravity iz important. It’s what keeps us pasted to zee planet. It’s an attractive force exerted over distance by mass. Zee greater zee mass, zee greater zee attractive force. On both Terra and Earth, zee planet makes a great deal of it.
Now, gravity can neizer be absorbed nor shielded. It vill verk over any distance, but grows quite veek over great distances since its strength iz inversely proportional to zee square of zee distance.
He scratches the formula on the chalkboard, revealing that his leather chaps are also assless.
I have demonstrated zat mass and energy cause a curve in space-time. Like a ball shpinning around a bigger ball zats putting a dent in zee bed. It’s too weak to have any significant effect on zubatomic activity, but largely responsible for zee behavior of celestial bodies.
Now, dark matter iz very, very mysterious. So mysterious I didn’t even quite know about it.
The Cygnus Virus Page 27
