Children of the Program (17 page)

              “What are your names?” asked an officer.

              “I'm Cass.  This is Messi, that's Andromeda and she is Constella.”

              “Relax.  Here's what we're going to do!  Our shift ends in a couple hours.  We're going to leave you to your business, but we'll return.  You'll have a couple of those cold beers waiting for us, right?” asked an officer, before pausing.  “Sound fair?”

              “It sounds like a night we'll never forget or remember!  Thank you, officer,” said Messi.

              “Oh, and have a fire pit going,” said the officer.

              The municipal returned to their vehicle and drove off.  To the Cadence, their pace from the landing to the road was agonizing.  Without hesitation, they tossed Juno's limp body into the cold river and returned to the van.  If the cops returned, there would be no evidence and no party.  They knew taking Juno only increased their chances of being caught, and by their guesstimation, she'd already suffocated.

              Andromeda reached out to Michelle.  “Mission complete.” 

              “Excellent!  We will keep strict tabs on the news.  Correspondence is to cease.”

              “10-4.”

              A week later, the tent and Juno’s body were recovered.  A group of Tuscany fly fisherman found her resting upon an embankment.  The authorities were notified, but no solid evidence could be found on her, or in the fibers of her nylon tomb.  Juno was pronounced dead on arrival.

The municipal police, first on the scene, recognized the tent and knew they'd been careless.  Dismissing the threat and failing to track the van's license plate number would haunt them.  Both officers kept quiet about the incident.  Though their integrity would breathe easy, they couldn’t escape the smothering guilt or dance away from the demons in their mind —
poetic
. 

Juno’s homicide went viral.  All of the news affiliates picked up the tragic scoop.  The Programmers, wary, began suspecting that another force was poised and rearing.  With Dez avoiding their radar, and Simon remaining distant, they debated the intent behind Juno's murder.  They feared the dark side may have its own minions out to stop them.  The authorities remained at an impasse when the autopsy and police report ballooned the airwaves.  As paranoia boiled in the pits of their minds, suspicion pointed toward the New Mexican sands.

+++

              Grayson urged the remaining Programmers to find out what was going on in New Mexico and to locate Simon.  Before his exodus, Simon had given Grayson a fairly accurate idea of his general whereabouts.  They had a town name and were able to map a general idea of what surrounded it.  Grayson wasn't at liberty to leave the New York Times on sporadic time, but lobbied the Children of the Program site for anyone willing to make the trek.

              “Grayson, why don't we contact the authorities?  Maybe they will be willing to send out a search party and unearth our vanishing kin.  If we extend our plight, perhaps they'll agree that there's a connection and look into it for us.  That's their job.  It certainly can't...” said Neco.

              “We can't risk bringing the authorities to our doorsteps,” interrupted Grayson.  “For one, we don't want to expose the entire group or go public with our story or bask in the merits of our perverse dreams.  It'll only draw negative attention to us.  Our identities will go viral.  We'll look like lunatics, possibly even suspects.  It'll make our chances of succeeding in The Program impossible.  If there really is someone, or a group of individuals, trying to kill us, we need to avoid giving the entire world a map!  Chances are, there are crazier people lurking.”

              “True.  We can't risk our friends and family in the process,” said Neco.

              “Right.  We don't know if there's a connection.  Implicating our friends isn't friendship, it's bad judgment.  All we know is that Juno has been killed and that Simon is not answering his telephone.  There's no crime in that,” said Grayson.

              “I've tried calling, as well.  Nothing,” added Neco.

              “Can you imagine what type of strange attention we'd draw to ourselves?  People would want to examine and interview us.  Revealing ourselves might incite copycat killings.  What if we inadvertently put a child in harm's way?  If people knew about these Crystalline children, they'd be mercilessly studied.  They'd become the victims of a society we were sent to enhance,” added Grayson.

              “I was just spit-balling.  I might be able to get out that way.  I may contact Elisa and meet her in Los Angeles.  We could road trip to New Mexico,” offered Neco.

              “Four eyes are better than two,” joked Grayson.

              “I could certainly use the company.  If there is something terrible going on, I'll need backup,” said Neco.

              “I know, I'm sorry I can't be there!  Let me know if she's game and if you choose to go.”

chapter 26

ashes rising

The power and popularity of Ash's artwork continued to lift her global profile.  A lot of her pieces were put in museums; or, their rights were sold, and used by book manufacturers and magazine publishers.  Her posh lifestyle was easily afforded off of the sale of one physical painting.  As she reached her highest vibration, her hand flowed about the canvas like the wind through the trees; the landscapes painted themselves, and motion was captured in a single frame.  Her sentiments were like teardrops from heaven; a signal that the universe would rain down perfection on those working within their intended frequency.  Her art was a steppingstone to heaven, but her child would change the world.

              The trifling ways of her adolescence were mere experiences to draw upon, not to live by.  She continued using the brush to write the pages of her story, but her most precious piece of artwork was still in utero; she was having a baby with her childhood sweetheart.  Ash wasn't sure how to bridge the literal and metaphoric ocean that separated her from Neco, but her time was marching toward its inevitable end.  She wanted to see him, again, if only to glide the tips of her fingers across the pained lines entrenched on his disenchanted face.

              “I'm pregnant.”

              “Ash?” asked Neco

              “Yes, it's me,” she replied.

              “When?  How long?”

              “I was pregnant when we last spoke, but didn't want to muck our conversation with awkward theatrics.  It didn't beg a revelation.  It may have explained my carefree demeanor.  That's not to say I'd written you off.  I'm just not one to dwell.  We are two separate hearts, beating to the same thundering drum.”

              “There's no need to explain.  You do not owe me that.  I'm genuinely happy for you.  Sure, I wish you'd have told me, but are you confident it's a Crystalline and that you're heading to The Beyond?” asked Neco.

              “I am.”

              “Nervous?”

              “I am.  That is why I'm calling!  We must rendezvous before our time's cut short.  My boyfriend understands.”  Longing, Ash stared at the incomplete painting of Neco and outlined his frame.  “You mean a lot to me, Neco.  I don't want a telephone call to be our last love letter in the sand.  This child is going to bring the canvas to its knees.  I only wish I could see its success and share in it.”  Sensing Neco’s energy, she pulled out a brush and captured the verbal aura of their conversation.

              “Have you told Grayson?” 

              “I have.  I didn't want him to post anything, until we spoke, and due to Juno's mysterious death, I thought it was prudent to wait.  The lion's share of my new paintings are of those babies with the beautiful indigo eyes,” said Ash, knotting up her telephone cord.  “If someone really is out to get us — someone within — it wouldn't take a criminal mastermind to piece it all together.  Though, I'm not really worried.  Fear is just the absence of faith.  Besides, my mansion is surrounded by towering gates and the tightest of security.  If someone's out to kill us, I say, 'Bring it!'”

              “Please be careful,” insisted Neco.

              “I know!”

              “Have you picked out a name?”

              “The black bird brought me a vision of a beautiful girl.  I awoke with the name Akiane!”

              “Magnificent.  Gorgeous.”

              As they parted, an unmistakable calm befell him.  All Neco wanted was her forgiveness and friendship.  Her phone call and wish to see him affirmed that his prayers had been heard, and that the most beautiful treasures are sometimes discovered in the darkest moments.  Ash had healed and painted herself out of their tragedy.  Her house was built upon marble grounds, where she could gaze upon rolling hills and heavenly rivers.  Her departure meant the world would continue spinning in living color, and her beautiful art would remain a reflection of her indescribable life.

              Dez kept strict tabs on Ash’s online paintings and became increasingly nervous about her influence over the world.  Though it was in his best interest to lay low and see if Juno's murder investigation brought the authorities to his doorstep, the Cadence
was prepared to treat her as a serious threat and end it, given the order.  He was savvy to the nature of her paintings and communication style.  His tied stomach knew there was an urgency in play.

+++

              Mere hours away, Rand continued to walk the hopeless streets of Kassel.  He remained a romantic.  His dependency and bond with Isabella continued to evolve.  They would occasionally copulate for the sake of feeling the presence of another body pressed against their own.  Though she'd introduced him to a number of singles, or passed-over flings, nothing really opened his shuttered heart like his long walks and conversations with Isabella.  Her soothing tongue and cool pace comforted his anxious gaze.  His sexual preference was of little relevance.  They were merely soul friends with physical benefits. 

His limited access to online networks left him haplessly disconnected from his spiritual family.  Distracted by survival, he often missed the group’s changing dynamics or breaking news.  Though he'd still sneak into his old refuge, or steal the Backer's mail, any relevant information was fleeting.  Whether his parents had written him off, or not, The Program still seemed like his closest, yet distant, family.  When he was able to connect, he always regretted their somber goodbyes.  Since their initial contact, Icarus remained his closest friend.

              “
Wings
, fill me in,” joked Rand.

              “Rand.  Dear heavens, we're glad you are alive.  I'm having twins!”

              “Is the world ready for Icarus squared?  Look out, here comes the 8
th
and 9
th
Wonders of the World.  I'm impressed, but not surprised.  The Council never elucidated the profound implication of bringing multiples into this space.  Do you believe you're heading out?”

              “Like a fetus,” he paused, stumbling over his clumsy joke.  “This time, it is possible.  The reality is, I'm either getting out alive, or my future is going to be riddled with child support payments.  There's a good chance I have a lot of kids coming, Rand!” exclaimed Icarus.

              “I have no doubt.  So what's your plan?” asked Rand.

              “My girlfriend Maria has a few immediate Euro-connections, but she can always link up with Benjamin and Zane.  I put them in touch.  I'm not sure how much time I'll have once their born.  For all I know, I'll simply evaporate, when the baby crowns,” said Icarus.

              “They are certainly a better resource than I could ever be,” offered Rand. 

              “I know you care.  I suppose you heard about Juno?”

              “No, I haven't had access to a computer!  The library keeps curbing me, because I'm homeless.”

              “She was killed, Rand,” he paused.  “Simon is missing.”

              “Is there any correlation between the two?” asked Rand.

              “No one knows.  I wouldn't alarm yourself.  After all, you don't have a traceable address. Needless to say, the group's on edge.  Simon went out to the desert to visit Dez and no one's heard from him since.  Not long after, Juno and her baby were found dead in the Tiber River.  She was wrapped in a tent.”

              “Jesus!  Dez was a strange character and all, but do you think he's involved?”

              “I think a lot of us have that sentiment, but we cannot risk jumping to conclusions.  We don't know if there's an actual connection.  If we make the implication too soon, we could start an unmanageable and dangerous war.

              “I totally agree.”

              In shock, he cut the line with Icarus.  To decompress the news, Isabella and Rand panhandled enough money for a couple of hot coffees at a local’s only coffee shop.  He purged and explained The Program and Icarus's news.  With each word, she drew more withdrawn.  Risking judgment, he trudged forward, knowing there was a very real possibility she'd find him insane, toss hot brew in his face and run to the Grey hills. 

As the veil lifted, her eyes locked.