Chapter 24d09

Chapter 24 (Draft 09)

Eight months later.

Bezuhov was lying in his bed unable to raise his head. The oxygen mask strapped tight to his face was now a permanent fixture to his angry expression. His demons were standing around his bed as the boldest of the denizens worked to deliver the morning report.

"Мы изолировали ген зашифровывания, который предназначается для белка, сэра." ("We have at last isolated the encoding gene that targets the protein, sir.")

Bezuhov didn't seem to care anymore. His stare fell down his length to the doctor standing at the foot of his bed.

"И?" ("And?")

The doctor looked at his peers and then took a worried breath. ("This means we can predict who will and will not revert, sir.")

Bezuhov took another rasping heave. It clicked and wheezed forward as he grunted again.

("And?")

("Unfortunately, sir, your markers lead us to believe your body is not yet set for reversion.")

The jackals looked nervous as the bold one quickly moved to deliver hope. ("But we can also report the markers have now shown themselves in Tiago's family where they did not previously exist. This means there is an environmental component just as Doctor Howard hypothesized.")

Bezuhov's eyes turned to fall upon another doctor who timidly came forward to report, ("We… have not yet isolated the compound or components within the fifteen locations we've discovered thus far, sir. We do know, however, that whatever this component, it is the cofactor required for FHF19 and 21signaling and thus determine the tissue-specific metabolic activities. I believe we're very close now. It's just a matter of days, sir.")

A matter of days, Bezuhov thought. How many times had he heard those words over the last eight months? How many times had he heard this promise since they let the Carmichael woman escape? The old man raised a shaking finger to the side and the doctors quietly left the room in single file. Bezuhov's eyes moved to his minion standing alone in the corner of the room. The muscled man's face looked solemn as he straightened to cup his hands in front.

"Да," Bezuhov whispered.

The muscled man unbuttoned his jacket, nodded, and then left the room.

The old man was left alone to continue his private cursing of God. All during his long life, Bezuhov knew of God's existence ever since the day he shattered Motova's halo with a bullet to his brain. In that dirty cell in the bowels of Moscow, he knew then this indulgence and offense would come back to haunt him above all the other killings in the decades that followed. Now that time had finally come.

He thought about how much he had enjoyed raping Motova's wife, the controlling power of it, and how he couldn't wait to reveal to the man that it was his wife screaming in the cell next him. Lying there in his deathbed, Bezuhov couldn't help smiling as he remembered lowering the barrel to Motova's head and then pulling the trigger for the sake of riches. Although he had murdered before, this he knew was one of God's saints. He could still remember the celestial tutelaries groaning in the spaces surrounding him as the man's brains splashed all over the dirty floor. After that murder, Bezuhov stared up at the ceiling above him and to God who he knew was watching with dismay from the other side.

'There,' he said, in solemn contentment, 'it is done. Condemn me later, but for now… let me be rich!'

There were so many other murders that followed that day, and Bezuhov often wondered if God would care enough about his evil deeds to set aside some special form of earthly punishment before he was cast into the lake of fire. And as he got older and richer and more powerful, he came to expect his death would be something grand, something beckoning a songbook of lessens applicable to God's wrath upon men who choose to act out their foulest ambitions, perhaps another Herzog narrative equal to Aguirre. 'From now on we will move downstream'.

But no; his narrative was never to come. There were no punishments waiting for him, no wonderful impalement with a greased pole up his ass, no tickler to tear the skin from his body, no brazen bull to turn his screams into lowing. The man prepared himself, but always found himself waiting, continuingly nervous, loathing the delay.

And then he had the answer, a way to keep God's eventual punishment at bay. He would seek and find Tiago and Sally Carmichael's secret and live into another life. He would keep the riches gathered in this life and enjoy them in a second and then, perhaps, another again. What a wonderful plan. And if he were to become a child again, with no recollection of his past crimes, and grew to enjoy his riches as a holy man, how could God fault him? The brilliance of it made his soul dance for the first time since the day he pushed Motova into that truck on the streets of Moscow.

The old man looked at the empty room surrounding him and then cursed God again. The Maker had found a way to beat him after all and delivered a punishment worse than the Garrotte. He had wasted years searching for the answers he needed to invoke his plan to laugh in God's face. He knew now he would die only days, perhaps just hours, from an eternal life absent of subordination to the so-called Creator of all. Worse than that, it would seem God intended to offer this gift to those lesser beings Bezuhov would leave behind, the gift he was to be denied.

I don't think so.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from the hallway. "Нет! Что Вы делаете? Мы можем все еще находить ответ! Нет!" ("No! What are you doing? We can still find the answer! No!")

BANG — BANG — BANG — BANG — BANG — BANG — BANG

Bezuhov smiled under his mask again. Not all of those he left behind would receive God's gift. His doctors had failed him for the last time.

("No!")

BANG — BANG

BANG — BANG

The old man cursed God again as the gunfire continued.

It was early on Sunday morning as a car pulled onto Embers Street and continued slowly up the residential road. The passenger in the front seat was looking out the window and up at the familiar trees lining the sidewalks. The car braked to a crawl as the driver leaned over the wheel to look at the addresses on the mailboxes. Something hit the floor in the backseat that pulled his attention away from the road.

"It's the white and brown house there on the right," Benny said, pointing to at tutor home who's unkempt lawn looked out of place in the upper middle-class neighborhood. He looked over at Ethan Dodge who was driving.

The car came to a cautious stop in front of the house and both men looked around guardedly.

"How's it look to you?" Ethan said, glancing nervously around at the other homes.

Benny rolled down the window and the spring breeze began to fill his senses. "Oh, I've missed that smell," he said, closing his eyes.

Ethan was unsettled. "Stay with me, now," he said, patting the boy's chest. "I need to know if anything looks strange to you. Does anything seem out of place?"

Benny opened his eyes and looked around. "Well… it looks like the Johnsons got a new car over there," he said, pointing to a red sedan parked in the driveway across the street.

Ethan didn't like the sound of that. He leaned forward to inspect the vehicle closely. "You sure it's theirs? I might be…."

"Nah," Benny replied, cutting Ethan short. "Doug Johnson always buys that same model. We think he gets a discount."

Ethan looked around again. "Anything else?"

"The Coopers finally cut down the old tree that was breaking up the sidewalk." Benny smiled at him. "The association threatened to fine him if he didn't so something about it." He turned more serious. "I think everything looks all right."

Ethan nodded and then put the car in park. Something else hit the floor behind him and he reached back to grab a backpack off the seat. He handed it to the boy. "Okay, here you go. I'll sit here until I see you go inside and I know that you're safe, okay?"

Benny looked in the seat behind them and then back to Ethan. "Are you sure about this? You know I wouldn't mind staying with you and Sally a while longer. I think we made a pretty good team."

Ethan smiled and then reached over to hug the boy. "You've been a great help Ben, but it's time you returned to your family and your own life now. It's time you told them about your dad and Kari and Robert and about everything that happened."

Benny hugged Ethan back and then looked to the rear again. "Are you sure that bastard still isn't looking for us?" He looked worriedly around at the neighbors' houses once more.

Ethan glanced around and then back to Benny. "Can't be completely sure, of course, but now the news is full of people with Sally's condition. Bezuhov could take any one of them if he still needed to run his tests. I don't believe Sally would be nearly as important to him after all this time."

Benny nodded and then thought. "Do you think it'll happen to us when we get old? Do you think we'll start getting younger like Sally and Tiago?"

"No idea," Ethan replied with a shrug. "Now that it's happening everywhere, I guess only time will tell."

Benny pointed at the dashboard. "I heard on the radio that China is now saying they have confirmed twenty new cases and there's five more in Mexico."

"Yeah, but more than a hundred thousand people are dying each and every day of natural causes in the world. Not everybody is reverting yet. Statistically, it's still a very select group."

Benny looked at his house again and then back to Ethan. "Maybe when our time comes, we'll all be reverting."

Ethan thought about Sally and what she would say in response. He smiled. "And maybe by then we'll figure out if that's really a good thing."

Benny smiled back. "I think it'd be great!"

A stereo began to play inside the house and Benny smirked. "Julie and Janice must be home," he said with a grin. "Mom would yell at them all the time for playing the music that loud."

They heard a voice inside yelling, "Janice, turn that racket down!"

Benny looked over at Ethan who was already smiling. "You'd better get going, Ben. Your mom and your sisters have been waiting long enough."

Benny heaved and then nodded. He opened the door, but Ethan grabbed him by the shoulder before he got out.

"Thank you, Ben. Thank you for saving us so many times and for being so brave."

Benny grinned. "And without my meds too — who would have thought it possible?" The boy looked around again and then back to Ethan. "When you get a chance, will you tell Sally I love her and I hope to see you guys again sometime?"

Ethan nodded. "When we get settled, we'll let you know — I promise."

The boy nodded and then got out of the car. He pushed his arms through his backpack and closed the door. Bending down to look in one last time, Ethan could see him waving into the backseat. He then turned and headed for the house and Ethan pushed the button on the driver's side to lower all the windows in the car. The boy was right; the air smelled wonderful. There was another bump in the floor behind him.

As Benny approached the front of the house, the door opened and the music was suddenly blaring. A girl stepped outside looking amazed.

"Benny?"

Another girl stepped onto the porch beside her sister and screamed. They both came forward and crashed into the boy, screaming and hugging him madly.

"Mom! Mom! It's Benny. Benny's here!"

A woman in an apron suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Benny! Oh, my God!"

"Mom!"

She rushed forward even as Benny tried to break away from his sisters.

"Dear God, oh God, oh God!" the woman screamed, wrapping her arms around her son's neck and kissing his face.

The family was howling and crying and hugging one another, and although there would be great sadness in the moments ahead, for now… Ethan thought they looked pretty happy together. He had learned months ago how to appreciate even the smallest moments of gladness and how to prolong their impact upon him. He smiled, dropped the car in gear, and then slowly pulled away. He watched them in his rearview mirror and could hear the mother's cries of joy continuing as he turned the corner.

Ethan slowed again and parked on the side of the curb. He picked up his cell phone, dialed, and then waited.

"This is Doctor Sajid."

"Hello, doctor. Thank you for taking my call on a Sunday."

There was a pause and then, "Hello to you, sir. I hope everything is well with you and our patient."

"Thanks to you the patient is doing very well, doctor. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your continued support."

"Not at all. So… how is she doing? Tell me what you can, please."

Ethan looked in the backseat and grinned. "She's as stubborn as ever… but looking well to me."

"That's good." Ethan could tell from the man's tone he was smiling. "When can I see the two of you again? We can meet in seclusion again, with all the precautions, if you like. Please, it's been months. We've been so worried here."

"I don't know that I trust taking her out in public yet. I know you understand."

There was a disappointed pause. "Yes — yes, I do, of course. But you should know that we received two more cases of reversion here at the University just last week. That makes eight in the last two months. It seems to be increasing logarithmically within the general population. That would mean the danger to the two of you should be minimal given the fact there are so many others now."

"Perhaps, but I still prefer a cautious approach. I've kind of fallen into that habit the last few months."

"Very well, I understand. But please — call me if you change your mind. We could still learn so much from her."

"If she's still important to you… she still might be important to others. Did you get the blood work I sent to you?"

"Yes, the day before yesterday; I have the test results here to share with you."

"Okay, shoot."

"Her levels of klotho in her bloodstream are back to normal and the allele frequency is looking very positive."

"What about the Marker 1 allele?"

Ten minutes later:

"The gene encoded an unknown putative type I membrane protein that we're very excited about. It consists of an N-terminal signal sequence. The repeats share the same homology and exhibit nearly forty five percent sequence identity to the lactase glycosylceramidase we spoke of earlier."

Ethan looked in the backseat and gave a happy thumb up.

"All of that sounds like good news, doctor. Am I wrong?"

"No, no, this is really, really good news. It means her condition has finally stabilized."

"No more reversion?"

"No, sir. I would be very surprised to hear another report from you saying otherwise."

"And what about going forward, what should we expect?"

"Well… I would expect she would begin to age normally, a standard rate given any woman her age." The doctor paused again. "Speaking of her age, can you give me an estimation? Can I speak with her?"

Ethan smiled into the phone again. "You know me better than that, doctor."

"Please, sir. It would mean so much to us here at the university if we knew what to expect in the others."

Ethan thought about it and then nodded. "I'll tell you what: I'll send you a picture. You can expect to see her in your mailbox in about a week."

"Oh, that is so very exciting, sir. Thank you. I will inform my staff to expect this data from you."

"Your staff, doctor? Does that mean you got the promotion?"

"Oh yes. I am now the Director of Healthy Aging here at the University."

Ethan smiled. "Doctor Sajid that's wonderful and well-deserved, I might add."

"Thank you. I only hope I can live up to the standards set by my predecessors."

"In my opinion you already have, doctor. You already have.

"Well… I have to go. I'll make sure you get that photo, I promise." Ethan shut his phone and then opened the glove compartment. He pulled out a camera, unbuckled his seatbelt, and turned to face the back.

"Smile, sweetheart. This is for Doctor Sajid at the University. You remember Doctor Sajid, don't you?" The camera flashed and there was another bump on the floor behind his seat.

Ethan set the camera down and then reached back to pick up a number of toys off the floor. He smiled and reached out to hand them to a baby sitting in the car seat behind him.

"You dropped your toys again, Sally. You're going to lose them if you're not careful." The baby smiled at him and reached out joyfully for her toys once more.

Ethan looked around cautiously before settling himself in the front. He buckled his belt and then put the car in gear. As he pulled away he looked in his rearview mirror.

"Are you hungry, Sally?"

Two weeks later:

("Thou only Creator Who with wisdom profound mercifully orderest all things, and givest unto all that which is useful, give rest, O Lord, to the soul of Thy servant who has fallen asleep, for he has placed his trust in Thee, our Maker and Fashioner and our God.")

Burials at the Kremlin Wall Necropolis are extremely rare. In fact, the burial of dignitaries on Red Square ended with the funeral of Konstantin Chernenko in 1985. Perhaps that's why there were so few Russian notables standing around the casket as the priest continued with the prayers. There were no heads of state, no crying family members, and certainly nothing of the current Russian government to honor the memory of the dead man that morning. There would be no plague on the wall for Bezuhov, no spruce trees to mark his final passing. Parts of the steps leading to the wall were removed the day before, the public only told the tented area was off limits for their own safety as the false repairs continued.

The muscled man was there as well; the only member of the old guard still breathing. Dressed in black, he looked brooding as he watched the small gathering of old men standing at attention to his master's memory. They disgusted him. Bezuhov had told him about these fat relics, those who had benefited the most from his master's work, the holder of the keys to all the doors that entered his master's labyrinth. The man sneered at the metals and honors they wore so proudly upon their chests; they hadn't earned any of them, of course. He glowered down at one of the general's pants. They were faded, tattered at the heel, disgusting. He watched as the general's eyes roved wantonly over the casket to settle upon the Order of Victory badge still seated in its center. Bezuhov's man growled under his breath. He could see the diamonds and rubies in the badge lighting the pig's soul from within. This last dishonor would cost the general his life by nightfall; the muscled man would happily see to that and the rest would be dead soon afterward. All the old debts would be settled before his master's ledger was finally burned.

("Behold, I long for Thy precepts; in Thy righteousness give me life,") the priest continued, completely ignorant of the man for whom he was praying.

The muscled man looked left and to the Lenin Mausoleum. Its red granite pyramid and blackened chains seemed the only appropriate place in which to honor his master's passing. A light rain started to fall and the cadence in the priest's voice began to quicken.

("…is made possible and actual by the resurrection of Jesus Christ which is the destruction of the pit of death by the splendor of divine righteousness and life. Amen.")

The sign of the cross is given and the book was finally closed. The old men adjusted their coats as each stepped forward to touch the casket before crossing themselves. The muscled man watched the old pig of a general reach out to touch the Victory badge before looking up at him. He seemed taken aback by the muscle man's darkened stare. His hand started to quake slightly before pulling back. That evening's duty couldn't come soon enough.

At last they were gone and only the muscled man stood alone by his master's casket. He looked behind him to see two men wet and shivering in the cold. They were clutching their coats at the neck with one hand and holding shovels with the other. He smirked as he reached out to straighten the Hero of the Soviet Union and the Order of Lenin ribbons on the casket's lid. He pulled a newspaper out from under his arm to read the headline.

(The World in Wonder as Hundreds Begin Getting Younger)

He looked up again and then laid the newspaper on top of the casket. He lifted his charcoal gray fedora and ran his fingers appreciatively over the fine felt before carefully setting it on his head. He looked at the casket again, smiled, and then reached out. He picked up the Victory badge and placed it into his pocket. He turned and watched the men with shovels quickly move past him as the rain poured down.

Epilog

Eight years later.

Ethan was making lunch in the kitchen as he listened to the radio.

"Stella news time 12:10 pm. Meteorologist Jim Stewart reports on the weather every ten minutes. How we looking out there, Jim?"

"South-East NB weather: beautiful and warm today, continuing this evening with a high of sixty-eight degrees, dropping to fifty-two tonight. Clear skies over the next three days with better than average temperatures. Good spring weather. Enjoy it everybody!"

"Thanks, Jim. South-East news time 12:11pm: The government now reports reversion rates topping 97% for the month of March. In the meantime, the House Commission on aging is continuing their hearings today on ending Social Security for reversion patients that fall below retirement age. In related news, the hill is still reeling over the speech on Monday by Nebraska's Representative Browning. In that speech, Browning suggested a number of new taxes would be necessary to offset the costs of Healthcare as the aged revert. School programs are also in need of extra funding with the dramatic increase in student populations caused by reversion patients reentering…"

click

Ethan turned off the radio, popped a potato chip into his mouth, and headed outside with the plates.

"It's lunch time, Sally. Where are you?"

"Daddy, come push me!"

Ethan looked up and smiled. Sally was pumping back and forth on the swing in her favorite Sunday dress. He set the plates down and then stepped onto the freshly mowed lawn.

"Daddy, push me!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

He grabbed the ropes on either side of the little girl's waist, pulled back, and then gave her a shove forward.

"Wheeeeee!" Sally screamed. She arched back as her feet skimmed across the grass.

"Wheeeeeeee!" she screamed again. "Is he really coming, daddy? Will he be here soon?"

"Yes, Uncle Benny is already at the airport. He'll be here shortly."

"Horray!"

As Ethan pushed Sally back and forth, he thought about their future together. He had done all he could to instill again her family's values, even taking her to her mother's old church downtown. Their relationship had changed dramatically, of course, but he knew he would someday see the woman he had fallen in love with almost a decade ago. Was this to be their future together? Crisscrossing back and forth through time, she becoming his mother if he reverted and then he her father once more if at the end of this, her second life, if she started the process again?

Ethan was convinced the souls of the individuals reverting were the same. He could see it in Sally's manner, the way in which she took witness to the world and how she so easily accepted the role of God in their lives together. Yes, the little girl he had raised from a baby was the same Sally Carmichael all over again – the same wonderful soul in a rejuvenated body.

He thought about the news on the radio. How were so many other families dealing with this new life? How were married couples handling what was happening to them? How would an eighty year old husband take care of a baby that was his wife just a year earlier? And what about their marriage vows: to have and to hold and to keep each other through sickness and health. Were these promises still valid? Were they still applicable? Death had been redefined for everybody now; how would the old morals fit into this new definition?

Ethan thought again about Sally's adult view of God's promise of everlasting life. He found himself agreeing with her first assumptions: this was not what God had promised them. It was only a promise delayed until some event, perhaps a tragic accident, or some hideous crime, stopped the process the world now called reversion. Perhaps this was God's way of helping mankind to receive his ultimate promise of heaven, where the process of aging and dying would finally be set aside forever and the burden of survival thankfully relieved.

He thought about those who had died by accident or violence before or just after beginning the reversion process. Their loss seemed all the more tragic now that humans could relive their lives again. A life lost too early in the old world had always been a terrible thing, but now such a passing seemed so much more significant and of greater consequence. He worried about his fellow humans losing their fear of death, of losing the one thing that surely defined them as being real and finite. He worried they might lose the one thing that came with facing the end of their lives – their fear of God. As Meek said, 'hearing the river of death running beneath one's breath and smiling as they waded into its cold and clear waters' deep.'

It remained to be seen if God would now survive the reversion process. After all, without the fear of death and of the worry of meeting one's maker… one had to ask the question: was God even necessary now? It seemed so ironic that after all of Sally's worries about keeping her faith that God might be the only thing that truly died now.

"Higher, daddy!"

Ethan's heart swelled as he pushed Sally again. And in that moment of love, a portion of given clarity suddenly came to him. Perhaps, in the end, this was what it was all about: Maybe reversion was God's second chance at finding true love and to share it unconditionally with all your heart and soul, and returning to one's childhood was just his way of retooling them for that unfinished journey to come. He thought about Mario's chart – a second chance, another bite at the apple. And once the lesson of love is truly embedded within each of them, maybe then the ultimate reward would finally be given.

He pushed Sally again.

"Wheeeee!"

Ethan smiled. If that was the case, "I don't think I'll revert at all."

"Higher!"

Last input from Bruce/editor:
- does the de-aging timeline for Sally at the end work, I thought she was slowing down
- why wouldn't they report the Russian to the police once they were free?
- would save the 'x' that Kari sees for your next book. Doesn't really add anything to the story

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