Incarnate: Mars Origin "I" Series Book III (4 page)

Cleveland, Ohio

From
the time we left my office in Mather Memorial on Bellflower, I felt like we
were being followed. I tried to shake it off, but it wasn’t working.

My
son, a lawyer in my brother Greg’s law firm, had come for lunch. I wasn’t
teaching this semester. I had taken a sabbatical to do research.

The
knot in my stomach and bad feelings I got when I first felt our stalkers’
presence seemed not to want to go away. Maybe the queasiness didn’t mean the
two men I’d spotted were following us. Perhaps Elaina’s words playing in the
back of my mind wasn’t what was really causing me to be nervous. Maybe what I
felt was just the jitters because I was going to finally tell my son about what
I had discovered in two thousand year old manuscripts found with the Dead Sea
Scrolls in the caves at Qumran.

I
was going to tell him the truth about man’s origin.

I
guess I should call it my “theory” of man’s origin, but in my mind I had enough
evidence that the “concept” was so much more. It was reality.

We
turned off Bellflower, leaving the hubbub of Case Western Reserve University’s
campus and walked up Ford Avenue. I noticed that a third man, seemingly
attached to the two following me, had parked and was getting out of a black
Ford Escape. It was a newer model, with heavily tinted windows and like the man
that exited it, it looked ominous. The man had on black boots, black pants,
black leather gloves and jacket, and wore a short-cropped hair cut. He was at
least six-feet tall and muscular. I thought the only thing missing was him
having beady little eyes, which he could have had. I wasn’t able to see them
though his dark sunglasses.

Man. Elaina’s phone call sure was making me paranoid. Beady eyes?
Sheesh.

Micah
and I were heading to Club Isabella’s for lunch. It was a good fifteen minute
walk. I had figured I would need all the time I could get to tell my son what I
knew. So I had suggested he park his car and we “enjoy the weather” of the
unusually warm October afternoon. We reached the traffic light on Euclid and
now halfway to the restaurant, I found myself hedging around the issue.

Those
guys following us, if they were following us, were making me nervous. I
couldn’t collect my thoughts. I swiped at a single drop of sweat that trickled
down the side of my face. A dull ache in my temple was agitating my
sensibilities and a slight tremble had become apparent in my hands. I had to
concentrate to try and even out my breathing.

I
turned to look for the SUV and the two men. Locating them, I saw that there
were no more than twenty feet behind me. Turning back I tried to push them out
of my mind.

Who says they’re following me? I just need to stay calm.

Swallowing
hard and not letting my rapidly rising fear tumble over into my voice, I tried
to have the conversation with Micah. “So what do you think about humans, living
maybe a hundred thousand years ago, being more technologically advanced than we
are today? I think it’s possible.”

“What?
That’s sounds crazy.”

We
had reached the corner of Euclid and Ford and even though the character in the
signal had changed from the red-lit palmed hand to the white body walking, I
hadn’t moved. My son Micah had started crossing but when he turned with his
“What?” he saw I still standing on the curb.

“What
are you doing,” he said, hurrying back over to me.

“You’re
being closed minded,” I said, not budging when he grabbed my arm to guide me
across the street. “I thought as an attorney you were supposed to be able to
look at both sides of an argument.”

He
cupped his hand tighter and pulled me out into the street. “C’mon, Mom. You
don’t want to be stuck in the middle of Euclid Avenue when the light changes.”

I
let him pull me into a slow trot, but stopped once I got to the other side.
“Well?” I asked. I was trying to build up to telling him about my big secret.
The world’s best kept secret. The truth. But he wasn’t making it easy.

“Where
did this conversation come from? You know, Ma, sometimes you scare me when you
start talking weird.”

“You
mean like I’m losing it or something?”

He
grunted. I looked over my shoulder, and turned back to Micah. “I just want you
to be a little scientific sometimes about things. That’s all,” I said.

“Lawyers
aren’t scientific. Usually that’s why they’re lawyers, they didn’t like math
and science. And yes, I can argue different sides, but both sides have to be
logical. I don’t know what you’re getting at, but it kind of sounds like
science fiction and not science.” He looked over at me. “And can’t you walk and
talk at the same time?”

No Micah, I can’t,
I wanted to shout.
Because
I think someone is following us. And it’s scaring the crap out of me!

“What
gives us the monopoly on brain power?” I said instead. “There’s no scientific
evidence to show that people are smarter now than there were thousands of years
ago.”

“Yeah,
Ma, there kind of is.”

“In
fact,” I said ignoring him, “there is some research that shows man is getting
dumber.”

“Mom,
you of all people should know better. People are smarter now than they ever
were. The caveman, Ma. No way were they smarter than us.”

I
tried to interrupt but he kept talking.

“What
you’re saying is not logical, not that I know what it is you’re talking about.
But for the sake of argument, since that’s what you seem to want to do, do you
have any evidence for what you’re talking about?”

I
opened my mouth to defend my point.

“And
you, as a scientist,” he continued, “should know you need evidence. Isn’t that
part of the ‘scientific method’ or whatever it’s called?”

He
wasn’t letting me get a word in. It seemed he didn’t want to hear what I had to
say. He wasn’t even giving me the opportunity to tell him that I did have
proof. So I just let him talk.

Maybe
trying to tell him today wasn’t such a good idea.

While
he babbled on, I turned to see whether our stalkers were still on our heels.
They hadn’t crossed with us, but the two that had been following on foot had
stopped on the other side of Euclid. They were just standing at the corner. I
pulled my glasses off the top of my head and put them on to try and get a good
look at them.

“Ma,
are you listening to me? You’re the one that wanted to have this conversation.”

The
driver of the SUV was fiddling with a parking meter in front of the Falafel
Café where he had parked. But instead of stuffing it with quarters, he seemed
to be looking my way.

I wish I could see his eyes.

“Ma?”

The
“walkers” were dressed in jeans. One was burly, and not very tall. The other
had a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He was fair but had dark eyes, and
much taller than his friend. Their outfits fit in with the campus crowd that
walked the streets, but not their look. At least not to me. And my stomach that
was now starting to turn somersaults seemed to agree with my assessment.

Are these men the “they” that Elaina referred to?

“Ma?”

“Yes?”

“Are
you listening to me?”

Everything
that Micah was saying now was getting lost in the haze of fear that had come
over me.

Micah
and I, after crossing the street, had turned west toward Cornell, the direction
we needed to go to get to the restaurant. But, the more we walked that way, and
the more I watched those men mull around with no sense of purpose, the more
nervous I got. I just knew they were watching me.

We
still had to get to Cornell and then walk three blocks down it to get to the
restaurant. I was starting to think that it was too far to Club Isabella’s. I
looked back at the men and then I looked at Micah still rambling on.

I
shouldn’t have ever started this conversation.

Micah’s
talking was exacerbating my nervousness. My heart had started to beat fast and
wild. That made it hard for me to walk. So I just stopped. I stood still, and
tried to still my heart. I couldn’t decide what to do.  I just wanted to
get into somewhere and get away from those men.

I
looked ahead in the direction we were going and then I turned back to look the
way we’d come. I saw it. Back there. The MOCA. I could go in there. We’d be
safe.

“Ma!
Where you going?”

I’d
made an abrupt hundred and eighty degree turn and ran right into a woman that
had been walking behind.

“Excuse
me,” I mumbled and scrambled around her.

 “I
forgot,” I said to Micah when he caught up. “I need to make a stop at the
Museum of Contemporary Art. I need to see Johanna. Over there.” I pointed at
the museum. “At the MOCA.”

“The
what?” He stopped walking. “Wait, Ma.” I kept moving. “Who is Johanna? I’m
hungry. I don’t wanna stop. What are you doing? Can’t that wait?”

He
was lagging behind. I turned back for him and when I got close, took his hand.
I pulled him close to me. Trying not to look at the three men across the street
I nodded in their direction and said, “I think we’re being followed.”

Micah
turned to look and I tugged on his hand. “Don’t look.”

“What
do you mean ‘don’t look?’” He laughed. He wasn’t taking me seriously. “Why
would someone be following us?”

“Not
us
,” I tucked my arm around his, “
me
.” I pulled him in close. “I
think . . . Well, I’m almost certain I’ve been seeing someone following us ever
since we left my office.” He tried to turn around again, but I held him close.

“See
that’s what I mean about you acting weird.” He pulled his arm away. “No one
would be after you, Ma. It’s not like you’re some kind of top secret scientist.
You teach Archaeology. At Case.”

“Yeah,
but I know stuff.” I titled my head and nodded. Raising my eyebrows, I said it
again with emphasis. “I know stuff.”

He
stopped and looked at me. “You know stuff?” His voice was chugged full of
incredulity. “Stuff that would make people want to follow you?”

“Yeah,
I know stuff like that. But no one – well not many people at least – know what
I know or that I know it. It’s what I wanted to tell you about.”

He
rolled his eyes. “If they don’t know what it is you know
or
that you
know it. I think you’re safe,” he said with a smirk. He looked at me and must
have noticed my expression, because his face changed. “If you
believe
that someone is following us then we need to get out of here. Get to a police
station, or get campus security at your school. We can go back and get my car.
If you feel like you need to leave from here.”

I
tugged on his shirt and started walking to the museum. I felt if I got there I
would be safe. “Micah, I can’t run. I’m too old and too fat. We can’t make it
back to your car. We’ll just go into the museum.”

“Ma.”
He stopped again. “We need to get to a car. We need to get you out of here if
you’re that worried. Get you somewhere you can feel better. Safe. We need to
get you home.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling Dad.” He glanced at
me. “I think there’s something wrong with you.”

I
looked over at my son.
Here I go again
, I thought. The more I try to
deal with trying to get out what I knew, the more danger I seem to get into and
now I was pulling him into my drama. I drew in a deep breath. “I can’t make it
to a car.”

“Yes.
You can, Ma.” He was scrolling through his contacts.

“Don’t
call your father.” I swiped at the phone, almost pushing it out of his hand.
The light had changed to cross Mayfield. “Let’s go,” I said. He looked up from
his phone as I pulled him off the curb. “If people are chasing me, do you
really think I can run from here back to campus where your car is parked?”

“People?”
He slowed in the middle of the street and looked around. “There’s more than one
person?”

“I’m
sure there is.” I grabbed his shirt and dragged him the rest of the way across
the street.

“But,
you don’t know, right? I mean I can take one guy.” He stuck his phone back in his
pants pocket as we walked toward the museum. “I can take two guys. But I don’t
know about ‘people.’” He looked at me. “Why are people after you anyway? I
don’t get this at all. And all this in broad daylight?” He started shaking his
head.

 I
walked up to the door at the MOCA and ducked inside the entrance, but as the
door was closing I saw Micah still standing outside. He had taken his phone out
again and was jabbing his finger into the touch screen. I reached back out the
door and jerked him through. Stumbling in, he got his balance, looked at me,
then looked around the museum’s foyer and back down at his phone.

“I’m
calling my Dad,” he said with what appeared to be a look of indignation on his
face.