Days' End (7 page)

“Absolutely,” Bekki replied. “As you exit the front doors, walk out about one hundred yards following the driveway. When you get to the dead tree
—
don’t worry, you’ll know it when you see it
—
turn about forty-five degrees to your left and there is a nice picnic table under a tree about another one hundred and fifty to two hundred yards down. It’s very relaxing. There is a creek that runs close by so you can hear the water. Just don’t cross the creek. It’s the border of the grounds, and you don’t want to get yelled at by the guards. Have a nice lunch, and I’ll see you when you get back.” Bekki sat down and started working on her computer.

The grounds were amazing. As she made her way down the driveway, Nysa basked in the afternoon sun. She passed the small trees that had started to grow on either side of the road and gradually came to a small path off to her left. Sure enough, there was a distinctly dead tree right where the path and driveway met. She turned down the path, entering the shadows of the older, more mature pines. She found the picnic area easily enough and sat down to eat her lunch.

The sound of the water rushing and tumbling down the creek bed was soothing. The warm sunlight breaking through the dense trees in small lasers of frolicking light caressed the back of her neck and shoulders. The smell of pine was fresh in the air. Best of all was the lack of the normal honking, revving, and screeching brake sounds she was used to. With the exception of the splashing water in the stream, the breeze dancing through the leaves and the occasional birdsong, there wasn’t any background noise to speak of.

She relaxed and ate her tuna fish sandwich, letting the sounds surround her and allowing the sunlight to drain away the stress of the morning. The sandwich was surprisingly good, considering she had bought it in the cafeteria. The chips, Flaming Hot Cheetos, were outstanding as always. When she finished eating, she sipped her Diet Coke and watched the leaves drift down from their homes high in the trees. Her mind drifted back to a day much like this one when she’d been able to spend the afternoon lying back in Alastair’s arms on a small blanket. They’d had a picnic in the woods and then spread a bedspread and had spent their day kissing and teasing one another.

The peace of the moment was broken when she heard a branch break on the other side of the brook. Nysa, startled, snapped her head in his direction, attempting to locate the source of the sound. She had trouble spotting the intruder but was able to pinpoint the location when he finally spoke.

“Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to scare you. I hope you’re enjoying your lunch. It’ll be a while before we have weather this nice again, I can tell you that. It’s pretty rare to have such a temperate day this early in the year. Good day now.” And the guard continued on his way to whatever destination he had in mind.

Nysa watched him go, thinking it strange that guards patrolled the grounds. Of course, if they really were cloning an extinct animal, she could understand how Mr. Scario wouldn’t want any outside observers. She had, after all, seen Jurassic Park. She didn’t really believe they would be cloning a dinosaur, as the facilities didn’t have that much security. The guard had been carrying a rifle, but Nysa figured it was more of a defense against animals on the outside than any animals being made on the inside. They were in the middle of nowhere as far as she could tell, and bears and mountain lions must roam through this area from time to time. On that note, Nysa finished her soda, gathered her trash, and started back to the labs.

She was making her way slowly up the path when she heard a tremendous cracking sound above her. She looked up and saw one of the large branches overhanging the path breaking loose from the tree. She dashed forward in an attempt to get out from under it. Her blouse and lab-coat did little to protect her from the falling branch. As she leapt ahead, various twigs and limbs caught her shirt, gouging into her skin and stopping her forward momentum, causing her to then stumble backward into even more of the branches. As the tree limb settled, it pulled, poked, and scraped her, finally dragging her to the ground.

The guard reappeared. “Are you okay?” he asked as he approached her. “What happened?”

Nysa was trying to get back into an upright position but was having difficulty pulling free of the twigs. She was vaguely aware of the pain in her back but was focused on getting out from under the tree branch. The guard stepped forward and helped her to her feet. She saw his face contort as he glanced down at her back.

“Looks like you might need to go to the medical facilities,” he stated. “I’m no doctor, but a few of those gashes might need some stitches.”

They trudged back up to the laboratory, the young guard supporting her as the adrenaline in her system began to subside and the pain in her back became more and more pronounced. By the time they reached the medical floor the sentry was all but carrying her. He laid her gently on the exam table as a doctor and nurse entered the room. Nysa related the story of what had happened as they turned her onto her stomach so that they could examine and clean the wounds.

“Mostly superficial lacerations from what I can tell,” the doctor noted. “There are a few that managed to cut a bit deeper, and I’d like to clean them more thoroughly and stitch them just to be careful. I’m sure you’d prefer I play it safe to reduce the chances of scarring.”

“Yes, please,” mumbled Nysa as the nurse retrieved a suture kit. The guard walked to the door while the doctor picked up a syringe and began to administer the anesthesia.

“Wait!” cried Nysa. The security man looked back at her. “I wanted to thank you for your help out there. It would have been pretty hard to get out of that tree and up here without your help.”

“My pleasure, ma’am,” he replied. “Next time you’re wandering in the woods, look out for the wild trees. They look tame but can get pretty nasty.” He winked at her and left the room.

Nysa laid her head back on the table and the doctor continued suturing her wounds, pausing every now and then to do additional cleaning. When he was done, Nysa went back to the main lab to let Dr. Leyden, Mary Alice, and Laura know that she would be taking the rest of the day off to recover, but that she would be back first thing in the morning. It took her a while to explain what had happened and to assure the two women that she was, in fact, fine and didn’t require their assistance in getting back to her room. Dr. Leyden seemed less concerned about her injuries and told her that he would remain in the lab for the rest of the day working, should she need to contact him for any reason. Nysa thanked them all and, grimacing as she walked, shuffled to the elevator and back to her room. Once there, she gently undressed and carefully laid down on her bed for a nap.

I have heard rumors that the church is in possession of it. Is that possible? Can it have survived unharmed for so long? Oh, if I could look upon it once more I might be able to live again. How my life has fallen to ruins. I know I should be helping my fellow man, but worldly possessions have taken hold of me. I must take credit though; I have become quite successful in business and have accumulated quite a bit of wealth. Would the church sell me the shroud, the last remnant of his existence? my last link to a life I lived so long ago?, I wonder? From my dealings with them in the past, I would guess not. I will have to find another way. Possibly a replica will quench my desire. There are quite a few promising artists that I have available to me. I think I will commission Piero’s son to make me a copy. I will have to find someone within the church who will allow him access to it so that he can recreate the image. I have some acquaintances who might be able to help me with that. With the right incentives, I may be able to sneak him in to the Vatican. I must be very careful though, they must not know why he is there nor what he is doing.

February 1, 8:00 AM

After stopping by the main labs to say hello and tell her partners she was okay, Nysa spent the rest of the morning checking all of the supply cabinets, advising the other doctors and technicians as to their objectives as far as she could make them out at the moment and to find out if any additional chemicals, machines, enzymes, or other supplies might be needed in their designated stages of the cloning process. She walked slowly, as her shirt and lab coat were rubbing on the wounds on her back. Although they were bandaged, just the weight of the fabric of her clothing was uncomfortable. But she persisted. She made a list of some chemicals she believed they were a little light on, just to make sure there were no delays in the process once it was started. She was probably being overcautious, but from what she knew of Mr. Scario, it was likely the best way to handle things.

“Call and have someone bring these down,” Nysa said, handing her list to Laura upon her return to the main lab. “Or up, whatever,” she added as nobody seemed to know where the supplies were stored. Certainly there were other floors containing additional provisions, she just hadn’t seen them. Chalk it up to Mr. Scario’s secrecy.

A technician entered the room carrying a tray. He was an unremarkable young man, in his early thirties was Nysa’s guess. It was almost astonishing how plain he was, with no distinguishing characteristics at all to speak of. He quietly approached Nysa and set the tray down gently on the desk in front of her.

“Your samples, Dr. Knight,” he said and quickly left the room.

Nysa looked down into the tray. It contained fifteen to twenty swatches of cloth, each in its own bag. The cloth was white, or had been white at one time, and was very thinly worn. An odd sample for her, certainly not what she would expect if she were cloning an ancient species. Strange, though, that her sample would be on such old
fabric. Maybe she would get her chance to clone Abraham Lincoln after all. “Que sera sera,” she thought. She wasn’t quite sure what she would get out of these pieces, but she was confident she would be able to extract enough DNA to form the complete strand required for cloning. While she searched through the swatches for the most promising pieces, the others in the lab meandered over to where she was sitting.

“Cloning a person for sure,” announced Dr. Leyden as he sat down next to her and looked at the baggies.

“How do you know that?” asked Laura.

“I don’t know of any animals that wore clothes, do you?”

“Um, no.” Laura turned away, obviously somewhat embarrassed by the condescending tone in his remark.

“We’ll test it to be sure, but I believe you’re right, Doctor,” Nysa said flatly. She glared at him to ensure no further snide remarks. “Looks like we’re all here to clone the first human. Does anyone have a problem with that?” Nysa asked looking from one to the other. They all shook their heads. “Good. I’m going to the other labs to check with everyone else. I’d rather replace someone now than in the middle of the project when they find out what exactly we’re doing here.” Nysa could see the excitement in their eyes before she turned and walked briskly to the elevator.

After visiting each of the labs to explain what the project probably was, she was surprised that not a single person had quit due to ethical or religious concerns over the cloning of a human being. While she wasn’t specifically opposed to human cloning, she knew it was a highly argued topic in the scientific community. Maybe Mr. Scario really was as good at selecting his employees as Mr. Stevens had indicated.

“Well,” she thought, “at least there won’t be any delays while we replace personnel.” She hit the elevator button to return to the main lab.

The rest of the day was dedicated to her primary reason for being there, the delicate task of separating the DNA from the cloth, chemicals, proteins, and other miscellaneous contaminates in the samples she had been provided. It was extremely tedious and nerve-wracking work, knowing that if she failed, not only would she lose her position, but the DNA might be forever lost.

Her two assistants provided what help they could, however Nysa kept them at arms length, giving them only enough to do to keep them busy and out of her way. This was her big shot and she wasn’t going to blow it because one of her assistants caused irreparable damage to her work. The samples were proving to be extraordinarily difficult to work with, and the meager amounts of DNA she was able to locate were nearly impossible to isolate and remove.

At the end of the day, the same technician who brought her the cloth swatches that morning returned. He waited patiently in front of her desk until she looked up.

“I’m here to collect the samples and any DNA you might have recovered,” he stated blandly.

“What?”

“All samples and DNA must be returned at the end of the day for storage in the vault. Mr. Scario’s orders.”

“Why?” Nysa asked.

“I don’t know. I just do what I’m told, Dr. Knight. I can come back if you would like more time.”

“No, now is fine,” snapped Nysa. “Give me a minute to put everything together.”

Nysa spent the next ten minutes gathering everything together for the tech. When he was gone she looked over at Dr. Leyden who had spent the day on one of the lab computers. He gave her a shrug that said “Who knows?” and returned to his computer.

Nysa returned to her room, undressed, and collapsed on the bed. She drifted off to sleep quickly and dreamed fitfully. She couldn’t remember much of her dreams the next morning, only that people had been yelling and throwing things at her and that she had been scared. She shrugged it off, showered, dressed, and got back to her labs.

What an exquisite piece of work! Piero’s son truly is a master at his craft. I managed to have one of the priests sneak me in for a look at the piece, and while I have trained my eye over the years in examining art, even I have trouble differentiating the original from the replica. He has truly found his life’s work. I regret though, that the people I have used to sneak him in and out of the church must never be allowed to tell what they know. I have already taken the steps necessary to assure that my secret does not get out. Piero will be allowed to keep his son, he has done good work for me, but the others must be silenced. My sins continue to accumulate. How will I earn forgiveness for these? Judgment Day will be particularly difficult for me I think.