Children of the Program (16 page)

chapter 25

the lamb

Before leaving for New Mexico, Simon was diligent with his Children of the Program updates.  Grayson was his soundboard.  On a weekly basis, he'd harass Grayson with his cynical and meandering questions.  He didn't have the same faculties to deal with The Program, and had quickly alienated his immediate Israeli peer group.  Though moderately concerned, when Simon’s communications went mute, and considering Dez's abrupt exit from the desert and overall attitude, Grayson found solace in knowing his generalized whereabouts.  Elisa was the most accessible to the desert site, but if Simon was staring the reaper in the eyes, he knew he couldn't risk sending her alone.  He entertained the possibilities that something may have happened to Simon’s phone or that he may have found peace of mind.  As a precaution, updates were added to the website, encouraging the others to make contact.  To keep the investigation light and thwart any misconceived reactions, he fastened Simon's picture to the back of a milk carton graphic.  It simply read, “Missing!”  He saw no sense in unfairly attacking Dez, until they were confident. 

              “I'll be happy to give Simon a call.”  Icarus was quick to respond.  His sexcapades had filled him with adrenaline for The Program and a new found sense of purpose.  Though producing a Crystalline child would undoubtedly mean saying goodbye to his angelic new friends, he didn't want to risk missing a beat of their earthly lives.  “If he's in trouble, I'll ruin the man!”

              “I hope we're not jumping to conclusions, but it's not like Simon to alienate us,” said Grayson.

              “Agreed.  Even if he was distracted or enlightened, I think he'd still want us to know,” said Icarus.

              “That's what is concerning me.  He's no rabbit in the hat,” furthered Grayson.  “Any updates on your end?”

              “I've chased a few waterfalls, but I've also stuck to the rivers and lakes that I'm used to!  There's one girl who I think might be the one.  I'm not in love with her, but I love her dearly, if that makes any sense.”

              “It actually does, Icarus; and, to most!  Good luck, I hope you're wearing your sunblock.”

              “Enough, already.”

+++

              Through his formative years, Icarus dated a beautiful young Italian girl named Maria.  In his youth, his parents worked tireless nights to provide for their mammoth offspring, and would often offload him with her family.  One evening, in secondary school, he promised that he'd someday marry her, if they'd both found themselves tragically unattached in their mid-twenties.

Maria and Icarus spent many cruel summers playing and fighting one another, reinforcing an almost familial bond, and had, for the sake of his post-desert sanity, reconnected on a late night whim.  Icarus was desperate to share his calling and the details of The Program.  She remained indifferent, but was more than willing to share her body, for the sake of his unusual cause — or psychological break — and for a dash of weekday entertainment.  She had never stopped loving Icarus.  Their families were connected by geography and generations.  A girl, who would otherwise seem like an obvious marital partner, left Icarus thrilling for the hunt and relishing in her spoils. 

              As they grew, they were in dire hopes of unearthing and investigating their vast genetic and psychological differences.  They experimented and shared the types of secrets that only best friends of the opposite sex could share.  They knew this was the precious covenant of information that might set the stage for their success in future relationships — it was the Holy Grail of human instinct.  By their teens, jealousy had pulled them together, while the other kids were busy swapping notes and heart-shaped candies.  The sight of watching the other's libido blossom was more than both of them could bear, though maturity eventually made it possible to handle each other’s young and wandering heart.  As years passed, they remained hopelessly attached and tragically, realists. 

              It wasn’t long before Maria became pregnant.  Knowing she hadn't shared her bed with another, she was excited to share her breaking news with Icarus.  She genuinely believed her child would sit at the head of all tables, even knowing she risked raising their tiny miracle without a father. 

The Program was they’d something discussed at length, far before planting the seeds of a life.  The revelation of his mission was above and beyond the courtesy he'd shown any of his other female conquests.  He made sure Maria had the Children of the Program website information, his parents' cell phone numbers, a hospital arrangement and his child would be born under the finest conditions Greece had to offer. 

Fulfillment of The Program became Icarus's sole conquest.  He knew she was the only person in Europe capable of explaining their pregnancy to his irrational parents and was grateful The Council would quickly usher him into The Beyond, knowing his father was likely to knock him out cold for disrupting his scholarship opportunities.  Any trepidation he had about their reaction was easily quashed by the irony in the spiritual graduation, sure to follow.  His competitive nature would only accept winning results, and to shine as bright as the stars.

+++

              Also chasing the crown for first place, Juno's bump was growing.  On a cold February morning, she left her usual Tuesday morning
Little Warriors
ministry and boarded a bus to the Cornaro Chapel.  She'd been whisked away by emotion and was longing to pray for her coming child's wellbeing.  Gazing out of the rattling bus windows, she reflected on her life, and began planning the nursery and considering names for her soon-to-be prince or princess.  Recalling the birds of her dreams, she thought naming the child after The Council seemed like a beautiful homage to her calling.  “Maybe for Ath, I could change it to Athena,” she pondered, shuffling off of the bus stairs.  “Or, maybe for Anan, I could change it to Canan.  That would be a great name for a boy!”  Her stolen focus caused her to walk blocks in the opposite direction.  Disoriented, she headed back.

              Though she understood The Beyond, she felt a disciplined ritual of faith and prayer, no matter the religion, sanctified the human condition and directed all negative energy back to a more capable source.  She felt it was important to be grateful and to show reverence.  It curbed her perplexing avian night terrors.  The universe seemingly longed for her adoration.  Rightfully so, her soul put colors into the air. 

She entered the holy chapel like any other afternoon.  Kneeling, she gave her angelic salutations and proceeded to the powerful and mystical alter of divine sculptures.  She was entranced by The Ecstasy of St. Teresa. 

              Always trusting, she often ran into familiar faces and engaged in deep conversations with the downtrodden locals.  She wore her heart on her sleeve and her mind was an open book.  Not long after her arrival, two young girls called her by name and asked to speak with her privately.  Without hesitation, she followed them to the chapel doorway.  They overtly complimented her noticeable pregnancy and played on her maternal pride.

              “We see you here often and plan to have children of our own,” said one of the girls.

              “What a wonderful gift to bring into the world,” said Juno.

              “Thanks!  It's a bit cold.  Did you drive here?”

              “I always take the bus.  I like to stay connected with people of all walks of life,” said Juno.

              “How about we give you a ride back to your place?  We could talk on the way.”

              “That would be great!”

             
The two girls were well-groomed, dripping with syrupy sweetness and had a good reason for wanting to rescue Juno from the elements.  Juno figured a warm ride home would save her an unnecessary fare.  She was eager to witness to her new found friends, if only to share her otherworldly experiences. 

Leading Juno to the back of a nearby van, the girls yanked open the rusty back doors with dual control.  Before Juno could react, four long tentacles lunged from the cabin and pulled her into the vehicle.  Laughing, the girls slammed the cabin doors.  Immediately, Juno was knocked out with chloroform, cuffed and looted.  The clan then traveled to a remote landing on the Tiber River and awakened their Sleeping Beauty.  They were intent to make her feel every moment of the cruel death they’d planned, and to drown her in her choice to bring shame to the human race.  As she came to, the bandits took the gag from her quivering mouth and began prodding the hive.

              “Why have you come, bearing an
alien fetus
?” asked a deep male voice.

              “What are you talking about?” asked Juno.

              “You are pregnant with a hybrid,” the man continued. 

              “I was called by a higher power to bring perfection into this world.  Aliens?” asked Juno.

              “God?  God met you in the Painted Desert and asked you to get knocked up?” he scoffed.

              “Who filled you with these tragic lies?  How did you find me or know about the desert?  It wasn't God who sent me, it was the Council of the Lords.  They've entrusted 12 of us!  This child I carry is theirs.  You will pay gravely, if this baby is harmed.” 

              “We'll take our chances.”             

“I bet she's a witch,” laughed a Gothic teenage girl named Andromeda.  “Throw her into the water to see if she floats.”  The girl then took out the letter that Michele had instructed them to pen, placed it into a water resistant bag, and slipped into her back pants pocket.  “The end of your new beginning starts, tonight --
Juno
!”

              “What?”

              They laughed, hogtied her legs, taped the dirty rag back into her mouth and walked Juno to the water's edge.  Though she struggled and screamed, it was of no bearing.  The cloth muffled her cries.  The sound of Juno’s strained voice miffed the anxious kidnappers.  Awaiting, at the base of the hill, where the water moved quickly, was an old tent.  Her captors opened the nylon door frame, zipped her into a sleeping bag coffin, collapsed the tent and rolled her up — stakes and all. 

The irreverent girls insisted on taking posed pictures with Juno, before tossing her alien-toting body into the river.  Though they mocked her courage and felt justified by their cause, her words rang like tinnitus in the ear drum of their souls.  It was a constant, uncomfortable and piercing cry.  Instinctively, the bells of denial rang out, deafening them from the off-chance they were making a huge mistake.  Groupthink trumped their ability to hear her sound pleads.  Juno was all but gone.  If she didn't asphyxiate, the frigid waters would shock her conscious, while her bound limbs finished the job. 

With two group members on either side of their human cargo, they prepared to heave their offering and become heroes of the Cadence.

              “On the count of three,” garbled a lazy male voice.

              “Do a quick perimeter check.  Let's make sure there aren't any cars coming,” said Cass, the leader of the group.

              “We're clear on my side, Cass,” said Messi.  His appearance suited his name.

              “Halt.  The municipal is by our van!  Put her down. We need to make it look like we're setting up an actual campsite.  We don't need them getting curious.  Andromeda, gather a little firewood for us,” instructed Cass.

              The police car came to a complete stop, looked around the vacant van and examined the landing.  “It's probably just a bunch of college kids looking to get drunk or laid, but we should probably go down and have ourselves a look.  Besides, what's theirs is ours.”  They laughed, holstering their nightsticks.

              “I told you this was a bad idea!” said Andromeda.  Her nerves stood on end, as the authorities approached.”

              “Shut up.  Just shut up,” insisted Cass. 

              “Good afternoon.  What have we got here?  It looks like societies rejects are fixing to party?” asked an officer.

“We were planning on doing a little camping and maybe drink a few beers,” said Messi. 

              “Do you have booze wrapped in that pretty little tent?  If so, that's a little more than a few.”

              Pleading for her baby's life, a tired and incoherent Juno muffled to the officers, but couldn't be heard through the thick bondage.  She was quickly losing oxygen and barely able to squeak out a lethargic cry.  Even her arms and legs had fallen numb, and were incapable as sending out a fluttering SOS.  Though she understood The Council's hands were equally as tied, she felt forsaken by her calling and smothered in guilt.

              “Did you know there is no drinking allowed in the Tiber River Regional Park?”

              “We did,” Cass, nervously.

              It was a risk, but they knew building credibility was their only play.  Silence filled the basin, while the cops paced around the wound tent.  Their eyes pierced liked lasers into the kidnappers' souls.  Their hearts raced, causing enough beads of sweat to flood the basin.  Their chests pounded like war cannons.  They were frozen.