Prophecy (11 page)

Emmanuel stood with the bioinoculator in his right hand while his left gently stroked her hair. So like his Miryam, his once shining light, the mother of his children. No so much in looks; the color of Miryam’s hair and eyes were different, but their oval-shaped faces were the same. It was the fiercely independent nature, the necessity to question until logic and reason satisfied their insatiable curiosity, and the quick wit designed to entertain and gladden the spirits of others that was the legacy passed down through the microscopic strands of DNA.

His heart beat painfully in his chest. Distressed, his mind drifted back to the last conversation with the Anorasians...

“How can you think of doing this to her? We know not what causes these unprecedented anomalies, and they from just two doses of dicit
-E
. Yet you want me to give her another dose, this time dicit
-I
—and
double
the amount?

“It is unconscionable. It could destroy her!”

“We appreciate your concern and reluctance,” Sateron said quietly, “but you must consider before you judge or question our ethics.”

Emmanuel sighed deeply and nodded. Yes; his passion had outweighed his common sense. Certainly the scientists considered everything, would never proceed if they thought she was in imminent jeopardy.

“While immobilized under the veil of invisibility,” Sateron continued, “I forced my mind off the safe road of scientific facts and onto the uneven path of conjecture. In so doing, I discovered the uncalculated factor in our reasoning.

“We did not take into consideration
all
that happened the night you transported dicit
-E
into her vital fluid. Recall: to dissuade her from self-termination, to provide her additional energy to fight her insecurities and despair, you
Joined
with her.”

He paused to allow the Three time to absorb this information. Bewildered, Emmanuel interjected, “And so? How do you equate these aberrations with my calming her mental state and supplying her body with more energy?”

The Anorasian grinned, delighted that the appropriate question which would lead to his revelation was asked.

“Genetics, my young friend. Consider: A defective gene is passed on to an offspring by either seed or egg. Often no irregularity occurs, most especially if the gene is recessive. However, if both seed and egg carry the same defective gene, the coupling is magnified and, indeed, may produce a mental or physical abnormality. This you already know.

“Then, logically, the opposite holds true. A gene containing a highly developed state of acuteness coming from seed plus egg may produce an enhancement far greater than would have egg or seed alone.”

Siddhartha’s eyes widened with dawning comprehension. Almost at the same time, al-Amin’s eyes grew round in amazement as he clapped his hand over his mouth, fearing to blurt out the answer.

Aleris, previously privileged to Sateron’s theory, watched Emmanuel with eyes that held delight ... and perhaps wistfulness for the offspring that would never be hers.

Emmanuel’s mind balked at the breathtaking truth before him. Confusion conflicted with shock on his face, causing the dark-skinned geneticist to choose his words cautiously.

“Why do you think you see your long dead mate in Mariah’s spirit, her mannerisms, her character? And why, with only two doses of dicit
-
E, has she far exceeded not only
my
abilities, but those of my colleague’s?”

Like a bright light in the darkness, understanding seared Emmanuel’s brain. His knees buckled, his face drained of all color. Sateron, anticipating some such reaction, caught the human as he collapsed. Emmanuel was speechless and could only shake his head from side to side. His gesture was not so much a rejection of the truth, but the desire to resist what could no longer be denied.

The Anorasians had spent millennia studying the moss-like entity, but many questions remained unanswered regarding its true nature. What it did in the body was obvious: simply stated, it prolonged life by reconstructing DNA. What caused much speculation was why.

Why did Eocene dicit’ledoni regenerate those cells programmed for destruction in Mariah? Why was it totally undetectable in any cell of a living being? Why did a
Joining
cause it to react differently in this human female?

Did the dicit have intelligence? From where did it originate? Could it be far older than even the scientists suspected?

More was to come that long night. More of the pieces of the Mariah Adele Carpenter puzzle would fit together, adding dimension and depth. Just the perfect coupling of chromosomes, the perfect combination of DNA strands, some having lain dormant for thousands of years.

Emmanuel now studied her face—searchingly, longingly—and found the kinship he sought. Ton Re’Sateron’s revelation still shook him to the depths of his soul ... that this woman was a descendant of his and Miryam’s. It had continued its division after the birth of their children and their children’s children, and had come full circle in Rachel Yankovitch and Saul Carpenter, both who were their line of descent.

Whatever DNA strands he and Miryam had contributed to their progeny had remained strong in the generations of offspring that came after. And had recombined in Mariah. When he
Joined
with her, dicit
-E
reacted in a totally uncharacteristic manner, infusing the recombined DNA with the additional boost from his own DNA. Plus giving her potential immortality. A triple shot.

He thought back to the even further startling revelations that concerned Aleris’ unaccountable knowledge of Mariah in a metaphysical sense. The facts stunned them all, the explanation connecting more than mere fragments of this enigma. They were sure that proving their assumptions would solve not only the mystery surrounding Anorasian evolution, but that of
Homo sapiens
as well.

Emmanuel’s heart thudded dully in his chest. He knew the capture of Maka’rius had driven the two scientists to this decision: to inject Mariah with a twice measure of dicit
-I
. And also another
Joining
of his spirit to hers to augment what the dicit would do.

Well he understood their need for haste; with the Min’yel’os in possession of damaging data, it would not be much longer until They discovered the laboratory on Izorach. The Anorasian scientists—and those with whom they collaborated—would be targeted for extermination.

Their need to amplify Mariah’s psychic talents was understandable. Still, he grieved.

Without further hesitation, Emmanuel pressed the bioinoculator against Mariah’s neck, knowing the liquid would dematerialize in the instrument and regenerate in her bloodstream. When done, he slipped it into his pouch then sat on the edge of the bed. Sliding his arms around her, he pulled her up against his chest.

His eyes closed. He felt his energy begin to flow into her.

She moaned softly and stirred. Emmanuel felt her arms encircle his waist, tightening until she held him as firmly as he did her.

Stupefied, he felt the energy flow reverse as his spirit received her strength, but more forcefully. He tensed, shocked, his breathing more rapid as his heart thrummed in his ears. Panting, he did not try to disengage from their mutual embrace. In the back of his mind, he doubted he could.

Without warning, the energy reversed itself again. Her body now sucked life from his. Emmanuel found himself clinging to her more than holding her up.
She
had the power, even in her strange sleep. Her body controlled the dynamic flow as their hearts began to beat in synchronization. Yet he was not afraid; he knew she would never harm him, conscious or not.

Back and forth, forth and back, until it was a continuous flow.

And then it was over.

As her body slumped and her arms fell away, Emmanuel laid her gently back on the mattress. He drew in several deep breaths as his heart resumed its normal rhythm. He noted that her face was no longer expressionless; she appeared to smile faintly, her peaceful sleep uninterrupted.

Emmanuel rose from the bed. Reluctant to leave, he paused, his finger hovering over the appropriate button on his transport belt.

Her door creaked softly as it was pushed open from the corridor outside. Panicked, his finger jabbed the HST button, but did not release it.

He became shrouded in invisibility. His self-regulating garment worked diligently to eliminate the sweat that now covered his body.

Anxiety filled him as he watched Doctor Menachim Silverstein move to Mariah’s bed. Had he disturbed something that would be noticed? No; the doctor, with his arms folded across his chest, had eyes only for the still figure on the bed.

Softly, Manny said, “So, my celebrity patient, when are you going to join the real world? Do you enjoy this unproductive sleep so much? I cannot say I blame you for wanting to hide, but this is not the way to do it. How about I leave you alone for the rest of the evening, and tomorrow morning we finally get to talk. Your mother, God bless her, keeps calling me. She’s now accusing me of keeping you in this condition for some dark purpose. She says a big fancy-schmancy place like this should be able to wake someone up! If you don’t come to my rescue, she is liable to start sending Jewish curses my way.

“Anyway, sleep well,
tatelah
, my little one. Hopefully I’ll get to see your lovely eyes in the morning without pulling up the lids and shining a light in them.”

Manny turned and walked toward the door. As he reached for the handle, he turned his head quickly and frowned. He could have sworn he had seen something out of the corner of his eye, a movement on the opposite side of Mariah’s bed. He stared, but there was nothing except a chair in the corner and the window with the drapes closed. Manny shrugged as he closed the door behind him: it was probably nothing more than the shadow of a bird flying across the window.

Emmanuel drew in a deep, shaky breath, wasting no time in releasing the “Home” button. It would have been a disaster if the physician had seen him—even more so if he witnessed the blue light of the HST flare and fade to a pinpoint before it extinguished.

He would eventually find out that the changes wrought by the injection of dicit
-
I and the second
Joining
would reach far into the galaxy—and beyond.

The alien geneticists had lit a fire. In the near future, they would discover just how hot the flame would burn.

Mariah sensed Emmanuel’s presence. His nervousness distressed her because she knew she was the cause.

There was a slight pressure against her neck before warmth spread outward from that spot. She was not afraid; she knew he would never hurt her. She was, however, filled with curiosity, especially when he lifted her into a sitting position and held her against his chest.

This was nice; so comforting, so loving ... until Mariah felt energy build like a nuclear reactor coming on-line. Her arms circled his waist as a raw surge of power, exhilarating and seductive, suffused her body. It was electrifying; like driving a high performance car at top speed around dangerous curves: intense, extreme, consequential.

Just to see if she could, she reversed the flow. Becoming even more stimulated—and drunk with power—she felt him tense when she sucked the energy back into herself, only to reverse it immediately and thrust it back into him. Back and forth, back and forth; the current soon flowed smoothly between them like a fountain pumping recycled water.

When she felt his heart thundering from exertion, she reached in psychically and, without disrupting the energy flow, slowed it down until it beat in cadence with her own.

Horrified, Mariah suddenly realized what she had done and immediately cut the connection.

As Emmanuel gently laid her down, she flashed back to the case of Everett Vaughn Hinckley, the degenerate who had abducted Estella Fuentes and had died of a heart attack when she had astrally appeared before him. She had responded, without hesitation, to Hinckley’s slimy lawyer that she had definitely not pushed the pervert or caused him to have the attack.

If asked the same question right now—after what she just did to Emmanuel’s heart—her answer might not be quite so emphatic.

But Mariah was more jubilant than shaken. She had developed a new talent. One that might well serve her in the future.

The following morning, FBI Agent David Paradise stood before Mariah Carpenter’s door. It was his shift, making sure no unauthorized person got into Mariah Carpenter’s room.

Always chivalrous, he held the door open for Emily Ramirez, a licensed practical nurse assigned to give sponge baths and make beds. Emily enjoyed bathing the bedridden patients, especially if they didn’t fuss and whine.

Mariah Carpenter was her favorite patient. Not because she was asleep and couldn’t complain; secretly, Emily believed that if she was especially nice to this person who was so blessed by God, good things might happen to her. She knew she was being silly, but you just never knew.

Backing into the room with her arms full of bathing supplies
,
Emily placed the washbasin on the rolling tray and set the clean linens at the foot of the bed. The drapes were nearly drawn against the morning sun, the room in semi-shadow. Emily glanced briefly at her patient, seeing no movement, as anticipated. After removing the appropriate bath necessities from the basin, she went to the sink and filled it with warm water, humming tunelessly.

The washbasin was now sitting on the rolling tray. Emily moved to the window and tweaked the vertical blinds. Filtered light softly illuminated the room, banishing the deep shadows of night into the corners.

Dipping the face cloth into the water then rubbing the bar of soap across it, Emily turned to her patient, ready to begin the daily ritual.

Eyes widening in shock, she dropped the wet cloth on the floor and back-pedaled, a squeak of fright escaping her lips. Mariah Carpenter, awake for the first time since being brought into St. Vincent’s over three weeks ago, smiled up at her.

“Good morning, Ms. Ramirez. Sorry I scared you.” Mariah’s voice was scratchy from weeks of disuse. If it were possible, Emily’s eyes widened more, now nearly bulging in their sockets. Unconsciously, she took several steps backwards, unaware that she was almost at the door until it opened and hit her in the back.

“Oh, sorry, Ms. Ramirez, I heard a noise in here and I...” David Paradise never finished his sentence. Following the direction of Emily’s stare, he gasped, his astonished look nearly matching hers. Mariah Carpenter was now sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the side, her toes wiggling.

Mariah frowned in annoyance. “What’s the matter with you two? Haven’t you ever seen anyone come out of a coma before? Or wear a discolored johnny? You act like you’re seeing a corpse sitting up in a coffin.”

With those last words, Mariah pulled the rolling cart to her. Moving the wash basin to the side, she swept the toiletries onto the bed and lifted the tray top, knowing there would be a mirror attached to the opposite side (having used them many times during her numerous hospital stays). As the tray top elevated, she stared at her reflection.

“Oh ... My ... God,” she whispered, now as shaken as Emily and David.

Something unbelievable had happened during the night. Like an elaborate joke had been played on her. Like someone had used sophisticated theatrical makeup on her while she slept.

Hysterical laughter tickled the back of Mariah’s throat. She managed to squelch it. If she burst out laughing, someone would slap her into a straitjacket.

Her eyeballs were yellow. Not the jaundiced orange-yellow indicative of liver dysfunction. They were a clear, healthy, lemon yellow. And her pupils: she tilted her head back and forth to eliminate the possibility of inconsistent lighting, but the image didn’t improve. They were still black, but no longer round, just slightly elliptical.

Mariah’s eyes wandered past her forehead (
oh, good, no horn
) to her hair. She tugged gently on a few strands, hoping it was a wig. No such luck. Each strand was attached all right.

The dark auburn color of her hair was gone. It was now a brilliant white. No trace of gray, no little patches of yellow. White, like the color of snow before man or beast has had time to desecrate its pristine-ness.

Afraid to open her mouth but knowing she had to (best to know if something odd lurked in there) Mariah steeled herself for the worst.

Just as she was about to take a look, the door opened again. This time it hit both Emily and David, forcing them to stumble forward several steps.

“What’s going on in here?” As if hearing the voice of Charlton Heston as Moses parting the Red Sea in the
Greatest Story Ever Told
, Emily scuttled off to the right while David took one giant step to the left. It created a clear path from the door to the bed for Doctor Menachim Silverstein, accompanied by Doctors Recine, Ward, and Bouzane. Lincoln Brown was absent.

Manny’s smile faltered then faded completely. He stared at the woman sitting on the edge of the bed, obviously trying to act like nothing was wrong.

“This cannot be happening,” he muttered, his distress apparent in his dazed expression.

“Au contraire, Dr. Silverstein, I believe it can,” Mariah rasped.

As he approached her, the other physicians entered cautiously, eyeing her with conflicting emotions.