CHAPTER 17
After that day at Disney World, Jesus recovered quickly and was back to his regular schedule as far as I knew. But I knew little for the next several months. Orlando was my last physical contact with Jesus, Thompson or Russo for awhile.
I knew what they were doing on the international scene. It was spoken about on every TV station, written about in every paper and discussed in every pub.
Jesus continued cementing together the new European Union. The world around him was crying out for peace and prosperity. Nation after nation agreed to his peace proposals and the economies grew.
Thompson’s satellite system beamed his show into every home on the globe and Bishop Russo remained Bishop Russo. There were still two Cardinals that strongly opposed his ascension to the highest position in the Church. The first was a Polish man with strong dignity and pride. I had met him once, years ago, in Rome. We conversed in several different languages. It became a test to see which of us spoke the most tongues. He won. If it had been my choice, he would have been Pope and John Russo would still be in some small Chicago parish away from power and away from the Vatican.
Russo’s influence over the world’s largest grouping of Christian people was frightening to me. I guess, because so many people of the faith never listen to what’s being said or see what’s being done. They just follow. If anything would bring this world to the brink of Armageddon, it would be our inability to see beyond the sound bites and beyond the slick marketing.
That was precisely what worried me at that time. People were not seeing beyond those things. The Prophets smooth voice and digital images showed the world only what the three of them wanted it to know about themselves and about world leaders.
When Spain’s head of state, Pietro Montoya, dissented, a feature news story on one of Thompson’s programs showed video clips of Montoya propositioning young children for sex. No matter how much he denied it and said the photos weren’t of him, no one believed him. Why should they? Would a man of the cloth lie? More honestly, I had come to believe that the more outlandish the accusations were, the easier people believed it. Like my Dad used to say, “The bigger the fish story: the easier it is for people to swallow it.”
Russo and Thompson destroyed everyone in their way. Over those months, I grew more frightened of the power the world rested in the hands of Jesus, his priest and his prophet. They had become like an unholy trinity to me. I wished to have no contact with any of them.
My wish was denied. The cold air of January blew Bishop Russo into my office one more time. His usual smile didn’t come with him. There was a problem.
“John, you look bad. What’s happening?”
“The Prophet and I have been watching Jesus. He’s been sick often and his energy drains quickly from him. There is something wrong?” Russo explained.
“Give me more details. What exactly are the symptoms?” I said as if I was a medical doctor instead of a geneticists.
“It happens once a week and it last for about three days. He begins with an intense headache. I’ve seen him groan in agony over it. If he’s walking when they hit, his body falls to its knees as if pushed from behind. Then his extremities go numb. He says he can’t feel his hands and feet. His head hurts but his feet and hands are numb,” Russo said.
“Anything else?”
“Yea, you better believe there’s more. He gets a sharp pain in his side like appendicitis but we’ve had that checked out. Doctors can’t find a darned thing wrong with him but like clockwork the pains start until his breathing becomes labored and almost painful to watch. His body spasms just to catch its breath. Finally he falls to sleep or more appropriately, it’s like a coma. Then three days after it starts, he springs from the bed like a young boy.” Russo sank back deep into my guest chair. He exhaled.
“There’s one thing more. I always know when it’s about to happen. It’s as if the whole room dims…” Russo stopped. His eyes watched something move along my wall behind me. They widened until the white filled up with fear, an intense fear. He dropped his head.
“You were saying.” I told him.
“Nothing, it was nothing. It was probably just my imagination. Can you see him, Mac?” the Bishop requested.
“I’m not a medical doctor,” I responded.
“I’ve been to medical doctors. I want to know if there is some kind of genetic break down,” Russo answered as his eyes plead with me.
The last thing I wanted was to be back in close contact with the three of them. They were bad enough but when those three came near me, Hesidence usually showed up. I struggled with my answer but finally agreed. I needed to do it for science. I was the leading man in genetics and the only one with a successful clone still functioning. Jesus may be the link to what caused the other failed experiments.
“When can you bring him here?” I asked.
“How about Friday morning? He’s due for another attack somewhere in that time and it might be helpful if you can see him when he’s going through it. Please, don’t let anyone else know what’s happening,” Russo begged as he stood to leave.
“I won’t.”
He left me and I noticed that the sky was dimming. It was nearly dusk and I wanted to be home early. Beth and I had planned dinner with friends and I promised I wouldn’t stay late at the office. I tried not to say a word through our evening out but that was most likely the greatest cause of my wife’s questioning.
“Matthew, what is wrong? You’ve been out of it all night. Is your mind wandering somewhere?” she pressed.
I tried to avoid her question and walk away. “Nothings wrong.”
“Russo?” she barked the question like the name was a curse.
“What?” I grunted
“It was Russo. He called or stopped by or something. What happened? What did that bas—guy want now?” she questioned with fury in her eyes and voice.
“I’m not very good at hiding things from you, am I?”
“After all these years why do you try? Besides, you make it too easy. You get that confused professor look on your face and it stays until you discuss what’s on your mind. So, discuss it so I can get my Matthew MacDonald back,” Beth said as she rubbed the back of her soft hand on my drawn cheek.
“The clone’s body is starting to fail. It sounds like it’s the same thing that happened to him in Orlando when we were there. I’ll have to see him. I don’t want to be involved but this one’s for science,” I said to her.
“Creating him was for science as well. Look what happened. You have the Pope near death, the C.I.A. watching your every move, crazy militia men trying to kill us and all because you did a great work for science. Stay out of it this time, Matt. Just stay away!” Beth’s voice raised slowly in its inflection. By the time her syllables struck “stay away” Beth was screaming at me. She jammed her feet into the steps on the staircase and then slammed the door to our bedroom. I was even more confused.
I sat rubbing my face with my hands when I heard a slight tapping on the front door. It startled me and I snapped my body up from the couch. I was afraid to see who it was. I crept slowly to the foyer and moved back the curtain. I rubbed the moisture from the window to make a peephole. Instead, I ended up looking at someone’s eye. I rubbed further to expose Hesidence’s face.
I opened the door and stepped onto the porch with him. “Why are you here? Can’t a guy have a war with his wife in peace?”
“War and Peace, I get it, funny. That was quite a fight. What was it all about? It couldn’t have been anything to do with Bishop Russo’s visit today, could it?” Hesidence said through his smug smile. He was constantly letting me know that the C.I.A. was aware of my every move.
“It’s none of your business what we fought about or what Russo wanted. Leave me alone, I’m going to bed.” I stepped back inside and closed the door tightly. I heard him on the other side saying, “I hope that couch is comfortable.”
Beth and I talked little over the next two days. Thompson and Russo arrived early Friday morning and came directly to my office from their hotel rooms.
Thompson began the talking. “Matty, this is one heckuva problem, we’re all facing. Jesus is getting universal acceptance as the Son of God and all of a sudden his body is going haywire on us. You created this thing, don’t you have a warranty or something on him?”
“Matthew, please come see him and find out what the problem is. There are a lot of souls riding on him,” Russo said but was interrupted by the Prophet.
“And there’s a lot of money riding on it, as well. We need your help,” Reverend Thompson pleaded.
I pulled a few instruments together and we walked to their waiting limousine. The driver headed for the hotel. When I finally saw my creation, Jesus was lying still in the dark with a cold cloth on his brow. I lifted it and he opened his eyes to see who it was. “Doctor, what’s wrong? Why do I hurt like this?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. I’ve got to take some blood and skin tissue. I’ll examine those and see what’s happening inside the cells. I’m sure it’s something simple to fix with the right combination of vitamins and minerals. Just relax and we’ll get these samples and I’ll let you rest again,” I told the clone.
He gave me a weak smile and I dropped the cloth back on his forehead. I could see why the other two were so concerned. He looked as if he was struggling for his life. His breath came in spasmed gasps and some pains would double Jesus up into a ball. His agony was more than I could watch.
The entire room felt heavy as I sat and watched my experiment pass through his convulsions. The curtains were pulled and the lights were out. It was dark except for the shaft of light I had slicing from the partially opened bathroom door.
I had rested my eyes for a few moments. The strain was giving me a skull-banging headache as well. I felt something on my neck that sent a shiver along my spine while my skin on my entire body raised in goose bumps. I was suddenly aware of another presence in the room. I hadn’t heard Thompson or Russo enter and I never heard any steps. There was definitely a presence. Whoever, or whatever, it was made my body shiver like the cold of wet, damp cave. My eyes darted around the room. There was nothing there. Nothing. But I felt something. I couldn’t hear the breath but I felt it’s hot moisture against my neck. My body shivered again.