Christ Clone (12 page)

Having been called by Travis to say he'd be out most of the day, Taylor was alone once again in the office. It didn't bother her too much that her boss spent long stretches out of the building — and she certainly had plenty of work to keep her occupied. She was more annoyed, particularly at the moment, at the way he would just up and leave without warning. Most of the time he was an ideal boss, sticking to schedules, and always letting her know where he could be contacted when he did venture out. But sometimes, like today, when he was into something big or top secret, he'd call her at home early or rush out of the office leaving her to cancel meetings or turn away appointed visitors. One day I'll tell him how unprofessional and annoying that is, she thought
— and then smiled at the familiar emptiness of her threats.

***

After calling Taylor and freeing himself for the day, Travis took longer in the shower than normal. Today was going to be a big day. His cleansing routine was like a ceremonial ritual. Shampoo first; this did its magic while he used a deep pore-cleansing facewash to remove the ingrained dirt the city spewed over him every day. He rinsed both of these off and applied a moisture-rich conditioner. Shaving took pride of place; he loved the feel of King of Shaves oil, and the tea tree scent made him feel refreshed. Once shaved, he admired his handiwork in the fog-free mirror; he slid his hand around his face, enjoying the smoothness of his skin. Next, the soap-free body wash, and then a full rinse off. His shower unit was set up like a carwash. He entered at one end, showered — jets blasted water at him from all angles — then hit a button to start a drying fan, and finally exited at the other end, clean and dry. After finishing with some post-shave gel and cologne, he was ready to get dressed.

With its daily maid service, his Los Angeles apartment was immaculate.
The Presidential Suite in the Grand Hotel was his ideal home, adapted to his own personal taste, with anything he wanted at his beck and call twenty-four hours a day. Opening the wardrobe and walking in, he selected a dark suit from a full rack. He picked a crisp, white shirt and a tie du jour, brought the clothes out and placed them on the bed. As he was dressing, there was a knock at the apartment door. Checking his watch — eight-fifteen precisely — he opened the door, and breakfast was delivered.

Sitting at the table, he lifted silver covers from the plates to reveal scrambled eggs and croissants. He flicked on the TV to watch the news headlines and tucked into his breakfast. The sharemarket was on the rise again, a good omen for the day ahead, he thought. He waited to see what was on the world news segment in case anything interesting was happening around the globe but lost interest quickly and finished his breakfast thinking of the day ahead.

Travis called for his car to be brought to the front of the hotel and made his way to the lobby. Its fine marble, combined with a modern decor, was always a pleasing sight in the morning. He greeted the staff as he walked through the lobby; most of them replied with a cordial
'Good morning, Mr Travis'. In contrast, as he approached the main entrance, he was greeted by the stone-cold face of the chambermaid he'd kicked out of his room in the early hours of the morning. 'Good morning . . .' Travis said, trying nonchalantly to read the name on the badge she was wearing.

'You don't even remember my name, do you?' As she spat the words she covered her badge. 'What is it, Mr Travis?' She hissed like a snake as she said his name.

'EMILY, may I have a word with you.' The housekeeping manager had seen what was going on and called her over. Travis watched her being chastised and, for a moment, felt a touch of regret about the whole thing. He made a mental note to try and stay away from the hotel staff, and his bad feelings were quickly erased by the bright and cheery smile of the concierge.

'Good morning sir, how are you on this fantastic day?'

'I'm fine, Robert. You obviously enjoyed the tickets I gave you to the new club opening . . .'

'Sir, you would not believe the time I had last night.'

'Spare me the details; I'm just happy you had fun. Is my car ready?'

'Right outside, all juiced-up and ready to go.' He bounced ahead of Travis and pulled open the car door. Travis slid inside and said goodbye.

The drive to Sorrento seemed to go quickly, probably because he had a lot on his mind. The freeway was quiet but as thoughts raced around in his head, Travis almost missed the Sorrento off-ramp; he cursed as he swung across two lanes to make the exit.

***

The cold, sterile room was located deep within the laboratory. Dr
Androna and Travis stood side by side. The pine-fresh smell of the lab didn't bring the image of a forest to Travis' mind; it was more a feeling that they were in the depths of a well-cleaned toilet. There were no windows in the room and only one security-coded door. The two men looked at what was laid out before them.

The long wooden packing crate had been delivered earlier that day with strict instructions to keep it in a cool area. The light brown panelling was covered with black stamps that read FRAGILE and
HANDLE WITH EXTREME CARE.

'Open it,' said Travis, holding out a crowbar.

'What is it?' Dr Androna took the cold metal rod from him and moved towards the case.

'Open it and find out; I promised you a bonus didn't I?' Even though Travis knew what the crate contained, the anticipation was killing him.

The doctor found a gap in the crate's corner and wedged the thin end of the crowbar into it. He forced the iron bar down, and the creaking sound of nails and wood separating echoed around the room. He slid the bar around to the next tight gap and repeated the process several times before the lid was free.

The two men stood at the ends and, careful not to catch themselves on the nails, lifted the lid. The sides of the crate were quickly peeled away exposing a small coffin. Dr Androna looked at Travis with an inquisitive frown.

'Just open it.' Travis gestured impatiently for the doctor to open the coffin lid. As he lifted it, both men peered gingerly inside as if the contents might jump out and bite them. Inside was a small, mummified body, dwarfed by the size of the coffin within which it lay.

'Where did you get this?' Dr Androna asked, almost rhetorically, his mouth aghast.

Travis lifted his finger to his own mouth and shushed him. 'Let's just say it fell off the back of a truck and I was lucky enough to be there to catch it.'

Having removed the shrouded body from the coffin and placed it on a stainless steel hospital gurney, they were again standing side by side.
The bright strip lights shone down on the focal point of the room.

Dr Androna knew exactly who he was looking at. He had followed the story of the corpse from the time it was discovered through to its unfortunate disappearance from London. Lying in front of them was the liberated body of a two-thousand-year-old man.

The doctor had read that the man was either high-born or from a priestly family. Dr Gibson, Director of the Jerusalem Archaeological field unit, discovered the remains in the year 2000. He had been showing students around first-century tombs in the Hinnom Valley when he noticed the blackened shroud. The tomb was situated in Akeldama, the Field of Blood, south of the city's walls and overlooking Mount
Zion. The area was believed to have been purchased by Judas with the money he received for betraying Jesus, and was the place where Judas had later hanged himself.

The aged woollen shroud seemed to have welded itself to the bones of the skeleton, preserving the body in a fashion similar to mummification. Dr Androna didn't want to touch it; he just wanted to breathe in its ancient aura. The body below the shroud was over two thousand years old. He wondered what tales this man could tell if he was alive today.

'What do you say? Let's wake him up and introduce ourselves to a very old friend.' Travis emphasized the word old as he spoke.

The doctor tentatively bent towards the body, half expecting it to wake — as in a scene from a horror movie — from its slumber. He took a pair of scissors from the equipment tray beside the gurney. His hands were shaking slightly as he made the first snip in the bandages around the corpse's head. Once this was done, he gently returned the scissors to the tray, then slowly peeled the blackened shroud from the face; his latex-gloved hands trembled in delicate anticipation. He looked at the skull and knew he was looking far into the past. Decomposition of the facial tissue had exposed the man's teeth, creating a fixed, wide grin. The teeth were uneven and misshapen, but they were all there. The dark holes where the eyes had been were staring up at him as though they knew what was about to happen. Dr Androna just stared back. He took his scalpel and cut away the rest of the shroud; as it peeled away, he looked at the whole skeleton.

He ran his fingers over the shrivelled skin. It felt uneven and leathery, like beef jerky, and the body smelled mouldy like a piece of blue cheese well past its expiry date. Travis looked over Dr Androna's shoulder at the wonder before him; he was more amazed at the sight than he thought he'd be.

'What shall we call him?' Dr Androna asked with a smile on his face.

Having mulled over the possibilities since he'd acquired the body,
Travis replied, 'How about calling him Probandi.'

Dr Androna looked at him quizzically.

'It's Latin for proof,' Travis said.

Dr Androna didn't understand.

'There are some things it is best you don't know about, my friend,'
Travis said, returning his focus to the body. 'So, Dr Frankenstein, can you bring this body back to life?'

Dr Androna looked at Travis, and then back at the body, trying to work out exactly what was going on. 'There's plenty of DNA to work with; are you saying what I think you are?'

Travis nodded. 'I need this person to be walking and talking as soon as possible. Here's your chance to prove that your theory of accelerated growth works!'

Dr Androna walked around to stand at the foot of the body, and admired its condition. 'There are so many things we'll need if this is to work: an embryo, all the proteins I've listed, special maternity and birthing equipment, even a host mother — and that's just off the top of my head. Who's going to fund all of this? What would I do with my other projects?' His questions were coming thick and fast as the excitement grew in his mind.

'You don't need to worry about any of that. This project is very important to me, and there's plenty of funding available. It can't go through the usual channels, and I'm trusting that we have a code of secrecy between us. But I ask you again, can you do it?'

Dr Androna looked at Travis, and then back at Probandi. The resurrection of Probandi would be the pinnacle of his career, no question of that, and impossible for him to turn down. 'Of course I can.
When can I start?'

Travis began to laugh out loud. He grabbed Dr Androna's hand, shaking it furiously. 'There's no time like the present. Give me your first list of equipment and I'll get it to Supplies. I'll authorize a special projects budget, and you can attribute all costs to that; no one from the board will question the expenses. Just keep me fully informed and updated on any significant progress.'

The drugs had affected Mary's mind. She'd drifted in and out of consciousness for the past month, and every time she woke up she learnt more about what had happened. The facts she'd managed to put together so far were: she'd been in a terrible accident and both her parents had been killed; all three of them had been in the car on the way to dinner; and at some time during the drive she'd broken the news to them that she was pregnant. The result was a disastrous chain of events. Shocked that she had been having sex, let alone fallen pregnant, her father had turned to look at her. In so doing, and distracted, he had turned the steering wheel sharply. They'd mounted the pavement and slammed into a lamp post. Neither of her parents had seat belts on, and had exited through the wind-shield. Their deaths had been instantaneous, which was supposed to console her in some way
— something about the fact they hadn't suffered. The lamp post had fallen and hit the roof of the car, which in turn had hit her head. The result was a few cuts to her head and a severe case of amnesia.

The amnesia had been explained to her several times by both the doctors and the nurses. It affected different people different ways.
Sometimes the memory returned gradually over time, and sometimes the brain considered the thing that happened too hard for its owner to handle, so blocked it out forever. The blocking out of the accident she could understand. What she couldn't comprehend was why she couldn't remember how she got pregnant, or who the father was; surely that hadn't been so traumatic? In fact, she couldn't remember ever having done anything more than kiss someone. The name of a boy called Tom had been bandied about — but he was just a crush, wasn't he? The doctors had told her she'd blocked either Tom or someone else from her mind, sort of erased him, because maybe she blamed him for everything. It all confused and upset her.

There were other things she couldn't figure out as well. Neither her grandparents nor any of her friends had been to visit. The doctors had said having them there would only confuse her, and that they believed her memory would return over time. She'd tried to argue with them on this point, telling them that surely having friends and family around could only help her memory. But they were adamant it would be a bad thing — something about families having hidden agendas and secrets.
It got a little blurry after that.

The clinic's staff had been wonderful, and as the days rolled on she'd built up a strong relationship with a nurse called Beverly. Mary had been drinking water all morning and she was busting to go. Nurse
Beverly said she had a special surprise for her later that day and not to go to the toilet. Suddenly the door slammed open, and Beverly pushed in a trolley with a TV screen on top and what looked like a white microphone on a lead.

'Your first ultrasound,' Beverly announced with a big smile on her face.

'A what?' Mary screwed up her face.

'Just lie back on the bed and pull up your gown.' Beverly plugged in the equipment and switched it on. The monitor came on and waited for information to be sent to it. 'This is going to be a little cold,' she said as she squirted gel on to Mary's stomach.

Mary winced a bit and looked at the monitor. Beverly ran the transducer gently over Mary's stomach as it sent its very high frequency waves into her abdomen in search of the foetus. Almost instantly, a picture appeared on the screen, and Beverly pointed out the first signs of the baby forming in Mary's uterus. She also checked the size of the foetus and looked to be sure there were no malformations. The baby's size took her by surprise, but she kept quiet about this.

Mary was speechless. There truly was a baby growing inside her.
She hadn't really doubted it, but to see it on the screen was something else. Beverly noticed Mary's look of wonder and moved the transducer to find the heartbeat. Once she located it, she turned and pointed it out to Mary. A small tear slipped from Mary's eye; she'd already spotted it.

Beverly gave her a big hug and let her cry. As she sobbed, Beverly thought about the words her employer said when she was hired.

'I don't care how you do it — lie, cheat, or whatever, but you need to get this patient to trust you. Basically you need to be her best friend.
You need to be on call twenty-four seven, whenever she wants or needs you. She is your life and I expect it to be vice versa.'

There was a fine line between doing the job she was being paid well for, and keeping herself from getting involved. Beverly felt sure this line was getting thinner by the minute.