Eden Redux: The Brave New World

Chapter 1

WashinGton, Dc

Tuesday, December 1, 2020

A d am threw his right leg over the muscled up quarter horse from hell, landing hard in the heavy roping saddle, keeping his eyes on her ears.

Let her go, he said.

Don’t do this, Kay pleaded.

I can ride her.

Please.

Kay released the thick rope tethering the horse to the barn wall. The mare had almost pulled the heavy metal ring out of the 6 x 6 post it was bolted to.

Ears back, she snorted and threw her head, nearly smashing his face, but Adam was fast, weight in the stirrups and out of the saddle before the sledge hammer flattened his nose. He took a deep breath, gripping the reins in his left hand and choking the horn with his right. He was taking no chances with this bitch.

She’s crazy, Kay said, under her breath and jumped back as the horse spun, sparks flying from her steel shoes, sliding on the rough concrete floor of the barn, spastic, breaking through the open twelve foot barn door and out into the bright cold December morning.

Kay watched, paralyzed, unable to breathe, as her third husband, a doctor, an idiot, who thought he could do anything, held onto this explosion of head and hoof, a blur of mane and tail, a hurricane of spinning, bucking madness.

She reared, wasn’t going to stop, going all the way over. Adam had cleared before and he flung his left leg, spinning his body and pushing away from the homicidal mare with his right stirrup. He hit the hard gravel road on his back, landing with a sickening thud. No time to roll, he watched in slow motion as the horse turned her head, looking down at him, red demonic eyes sighting in her target, shifting her body in midair and crashing down upon him.

He felt his right femur snap as the cantle of the big saddle crushed his thigh. The 1,200 pound horse, head down the slope, flung her head, rocking violently, trying to right herself only to shift and pulverize his left femur. He could hear the bone crack and knew the feral horse would crush his pelvis with the next blow.

He watched her, indifferent, unconcerned, rise from the killing field and casually walk to the fence to eat the frosty grass, leaving the crushed remains of a once proud man twisted and helpless on the cold hard road.

Kay, he heard himself cry.

He watched as Kay, his nurse, his wife, picked up his right foot hanging backward down the gully beside the road, numb from the 20 degree winter and lack of blood flow. She turned it around and held traction on it with one hand as she pulled out her cell and called the ambulance with the other.

Adam, Kay said, Wake up. It’s alright. I’m here. You’re having that nightmare again, baby.

She tried to kill me.

I know, baby. That was a long time ago. You’re OK.

Adam lay in the bed, eyes wide, in a pool of sweat, breathing hard, heart racing, pounding thunder in his head. He blinked hard, squeezing out tears to clear his blurry vision.

I’m never going to get that day out of my head, he said,

"You are Adam White, carrier of The One Virus, giver of the Gift of Life. The One healed you. It’s finished. Those years of pain and suffering are gone, baby. You’ll never have to endure that torment again."

Adam knew she was right. It had been over a year since his subconscious had resurrected that nightmare, forcing him to relive that day, those minutes, minutes that changed his life, leaving him an impotent cripple, until…

Come on. Let’s rinse you off in the shower. We have to go.

The new four lane highway, built for God himself, reduced the drive time from Adam’s beachfront estate, on the northeastern shore of Aruba, to the airport to just under 10 minutes. He watched out the back window of the white limousine as the California Light House, that unused beacon on the hill, which looked out blindly, surveying the magnificent compound of his Master, became smaller and finally sank beneath the sea of green grass, where before there had been rocky desert. He leaned over and gave his wife a brief kiss. Her green eyes lit up the interior of the car. His life was perfect, the constant misery before, but a bitter memory. If only this miracle would last.

At the light, making the right turn into the Queen Beatrix Airport, traffic was backed up, more than usual. Heat washed from the asphalt, shimmering over the buildings, giving them an ethereal appearance. Adam glared through the tinted window as the sun baked cars crept forward, tapping his fingers on the seat. Kay reached over and laid her hand on his. George accelerated, just as the light cycled for the second time, turning sharply to the right to bypass the crowded airport parking lot, using the restricted access road and pulled the limo around to the private parking area reserved for The One.

John, the organizer, the manager, in constant contact with the Master, who cared for them like a mother hen, jumped out, gripping his precious laptop tightly beneath his left arm, and held the door for his flock with his right. Even at 65, he was tireless, his energy contagious, and as with everyone in this limo, having received the viral infection that promised 1000 years, he didn’t look 30.

Adam emerged from the car next and helped Kay to the side walk. He held her brown hand, admiring her long fingers and kissed it. Kay smiled.

You are the gentleman today, she said.

You, he said, are so beautiful. When he looked into Kay’s eyes, his face hurt from the smile she engraved upon it.

The constant breeze, that bathed the island, fluttered through Adam’s thin white linen shirt, evaporating the sweat and cooling his skin. There was a faint ocean scent in the air. He licked his lips, salty, ocean or sweat? He surveyed the pale blue sky, rising above the yellow building bearing the large letters: US Departing Flights. An artist’s brush had carelessly spritzed wispy white clouds across the otherwise spotless heavens. It was a perfect day.

Bill and Barb, a stunning couple, with their matching dark hair and brown eyes, their personal servants since the ceremony that had christened this new life almost seven years ago, gathered the luggage and followed as the White’s made their way to the newest part of the building, built by The One for his personal use, after he purchased the island from The Kingdom of the Netherlands, so much had happened since then. Adam watched his own feet move forward on the hot concrete, lost in his thoughts.

Kay squeezed his arm pulling him back to the present.

Watch where you’re going baby, she said.

Oh, he said and lifted his gaze.

He looked back to see George hand the keys to his assistant and grab his own bag. He drove them everywhere. The man was incredible and he had a good GPS.

We have quite an entourage, Adam said, nuzzling Kay’s neck.

She smiled and kept her gaze fixed on the sliding glass door that opened into the air conditioned lobby.

John led the way through the private section. A large empty three piece leather sectional sofa surrounded by a dozen mahogany tables for four, opened toward an ornate marble topped bar and sat patiently waiting for wealthy guests of The One coming to receive The Gift or his Carriers. It had been a very busy area before The Master left them, moving to Jerusalem, the city he called the center of the world.

In the boarding area, tinted glass stretched from floor to ceiling and leather recliners, equipped with a back massage function and computer screens in their wide arms ready to be flipped up for work or down to rest, idled in rows.

Adam could see the white Boeing Business Jet, its smooth skin glistening in the sun, waiting at the gate. There were two gates in The One’s section, rarely in use simultaneously, rarely in use at all anymore. Extravagant, but the richest creature in the world could afford it.

Welcome Doctor White, Mrs. White, the smiling attendant in white linen shirt and slacks, standing behind the desk at their gate, greeted his passengers.

The board above him announced: WASHINGTON, DC—ON TIME, in blue backlit letters and over the top of this in gold with silver highlights: ONE WORLD AIRLINES. The blue United Nations emblem sat at the top left corner, having been adopted by The One as his own a few years ago. The emblem was everywhere now days.

Hello, Patrick, Adam said.

He could read the name tag from across the room with his incredible eyes. This guy was new. If Adam had met him before he would have remembered, but, of course, everyone knew Adam and now, unlike the narcotic haze he drifted in before, he remembered everything, everything.

Your plane is waiting, Patrick said. He gestured toward the gate.

He opened the door behind his desk that led into a short hall. Cold air blew Adam’s shoulder length sandy blonde hair as he walked through. A few steps and hot air smelling of fresh asphalt, billowed over him as another man, in white, opened the far door, which led onto the tarmac. The simmering jet rested on sun boiled molten black pavement, sticky beneath Adam’s sandals, the constant Aruban breeze curiously absent, the heat amplified by the stillness.

Adam stepped aside to let Kay board their plane. His focus locked upon her delectable ass and long legs as she mounted the steps. She looked back from the top platform.

Are you coming? she said. People are waiting.

Just admiring you, baby, Adam said and bounded up the metal roll away stairs three at a time. The platform shook, and Kay side stepped through the hatch.

Adam slipped by the well endowed stewardess, her soft breasts brushing his chest. They exchanged smiles and Adam stretched his long brown body out on the fully reclining tan leather seat beside his wife. He reached over and touched her hand. She smiled and they settled in for the four hour flight back to the states.

Travel was so uncomplicated now, Adam thought, no security or screening procedures. Since The One everything had changed: no terrorist threats, no suicide bombings. Things were peaceful and safe, travel routine. It had become a perfect world.

He marveled at his wife, so young, so beautiful, hard to imagine not so many years ago he had been crippled and depressed to the point of despair and they both had felt the ravages of age, even though they were only in their mid-fifties. The One had given them so much, so much. A pang of guilt washed over him. He didn’t deserve this. He pushed the unwelcome feelings down, locking them in the cellar of his subconscious mind, the way he used to suppress his pain just to function.

I love you, honey, he said, trailing his hand up to Kay’s brown shoulder and giving a little squeeze.

What’s that for? she asked.

She took his hand and kissed it with her full soft lips.

Adam shrugged.

I love you too, she said.

The comfortable chairs and the drone of the engines created a hypnotic spell drowning out the cares of the world, encouraging descent into one’s self and opening the doors into the limitless possibilities of a day dream. A flurry of thoughts filled Adam’s mind and in his dream he flew. He soared and dove, felt the wind in his face and the G-forces straining against his powerful wings. The landing gear locked in place and, like the fragile snow flake as it touches one’s hand, the dream was gone.

Are we here already? Adam said, rubbing his eyes and stretching.

You slept the whole way baby, Kay said. You better put on your coat. It’s cold here.

She handed him his jacket and leaned back in her seat. There was no platoon sergeant stewardess barking orders about seat backs and tray tables, seat belts and remain in your seats. This was their plane, their world.

The jet banked and descended, passing over the Potomac. Adam watched out the window. A mist hung above the dark water and silver frost decorated the muddy bank. The river flew by and the plane shuddered as the wheels hit the runway at Washington National.

A black government limo waited to take the first carriers of The One Virus to the National Institute of Health. George assumed his position at the wheel and the local driver relocated to the front passenger seat.

John shepherded his flock to the car, chattering as they walked. Your team includes scientists and doctors from the CDC, NIH and the military.

Bill found champagne and orange juice in the limo’s ice filled cooler and poured mimosas. John, a meticulous planner, forgot nothing, from the limo to the ice. Bill handed a fluted goblet to Kay and one to Adam as the car pulled from the curb.

George kept the ride smooth as he snaked around the twists and turns of the ancient streets of the capitol. Adam remembered his propensity for motion sickness, before. He sipped the sweet drink. Now he wasn’t sure he had any human frailties.

Bill was just refilling the glasses when George pulled the long car into a complex of buildings that made up the NIH, stopping at the south entrance. Out the darkly tinted window Adam could see a red brick monolith a short distance across the campus, reminiscent of the VA Hospital in Louisville, where he spent many long hours as a medical student, almost forty years ago. Time had passed so quickly, unnoticed. Now time was almost irrelevant.

A ten foot tall stone sign planted in the grass near the parking lot read: Clinical Center, Building 10. Adam pushed open the door and held it for Kay and the others. They stepped onto the white concrete walk, which cut through grassy spaces in front of the foreboding building. Adam shut his eyes, turned his face into the bright midday sun and inhaled deeply. The cold air smelled fresh, like after a summer rain.

The frost was melting and black shoe prints revealed places where the grass had been trampled by unauthorized travelers leaving the walk. Holly bushes bordered the buildings, trimmed neatly at window level and empty areas in the mulch were punctuated by withered stems of flowers from warmer months. For the Government, this was a well manicured facility, Adam thought.

They made their way toward Building 10, passing a little gazebo and a yellow metal pot with a side hole in the top part of the pipe, extending from its middle, which delivered ashes to the base of the device, a relic from the days of cigarette smoking.

John opened one of the double glass doors and stood by allowing his charges: Adam and Kay, to enter the dark government-issue lobby. He held the door as the rest of the group disappeared into the mouth of the beast.

The air was musty with a dry heat. Adam thought about his allergies before, almost reaching into his pocket for the Flonase, just an unpleasant memory now. He smiled.

A burly man with a thick Hebrew accent was waiting to greet them. The overhead light reflected off his shiny bald head.

"Doctor and Mrs. White, I’m Doctor Moses Steinman, head of The One Virus project, he said, vigorously shaking Adam’s hand and then reaching for Kay’s. We’re so excited to have you both here, at last." He patted her hand as he spoke, and gazed up and down her perfect figure, like a cannibal eyeing supper.

You must be one of the few Jews left in this country, Adam said. He couldn’t help staring at Doctor Steinman’s eyes, lower lids hanging loosely, water pooling, upper lids drooping like the vinyl awning on his Sooner horse trailer.

You may be right, Moses replied with a chuckle. Come and meet the rest of your team of investigators. He put his thick arm around Kay’s 24 inch waist and drew her to his side, leading them deeper into the bowels of the research facility. They’re all anxious to meet you two.

In a large conference room, several serious, bespectacled, aging scientists were waiting. They stood as Adam and Kay entered. Moses introduced them rapidly and, to their surprise, the Whites addressed each by name. All the carriers shared the perfect memory thing.

Let me show you to your quarters, James, the team’s coordinator, said. Adam found his Boston accent and upturned narrow nose annoying. James was tall and thin and as he spoke, the right side of his face twitched, like a half smile.

Adam, you’re staring, Kay whispered and pulled on his arm.

Adam turned away from James and entwined his fingers with Kay’s as they walked down the corridor.

At the end of the hall, the newly acquainted group squeezed into a waiting service elevator. The beige paint on the doors was pocked and chipped, revealing metal powdered with rust. The interior bore more scars, evidence of heavy use. Moses pushed the number 8 on the backlit panel and the doors closed.

Adam was sandwiched between James, on his right and Doctor Barringer, a thin middle-aged lady, the best looking of the motley crew of scientists in his opinion, on his left. There was a sweaty smell wafting past Adam’s nose. James’ armpits were moist. Adam looked around at Kay, the elevator wall behind her, her breasts pressing into his back, her hands on his hips, grinding softly against his ass. She made a face. Moses’ eyes never wandered from Kay’s hips. He didn’t see the exchange.

The elevator doors opened into a well lit hallway with rooms on either side. The floors were hard linoleum, yellowed from decades of waxing. James led the way and opened a door to the first room.

Adam, he said, this is your room.

Adam leaned into the small room, Kay at his side, and surveyed the space. The room, apparently recently an office or lab, contained a twin bed, an unpadded wooden chair and a desk. The walls had rectangular pale shadows where pictures or boards of some kind had recently hung. The nail holes in the plaster had not been repainted. A white porcelain sink hung from one wall, its chrome pipes rusting as they disappeared into the floor. There was one window, which looked out over the grounds and faced another tall brick building, its sill littered with dead flies.

The bed looked suspiciously like the hard hospital beds Adam remembered sleeping on at Walter Reed, where he had rotated on the Cardio-Thoracic Service as a general surgery resident so many years ago. He could sleep anywhere then. The sleep deprivation of a surgical resident was legend. The mitered corners of the sheets and precisely folded blanket at the end of the bed made his stomach rumble like the wind blowing life into the forgotten embers of an ancient camp fire.

This will not do, John said.

I’m sorry, James said, nervously stroking his chin. Twitch.

We can stay at the Watergate, Kay suggested. We stayed there the past two times we worked on these government projects.

We really wanted to be able to study you both 24 hours a day, James said. His expression reflected the innocence of a baby. Twitch.

That is not what we agreed to, John said. We were to spend no more than four hours per day in these studies.

We were hoping for a little more time with you both. James’ face was red and his starched white shirt now soaked to his black leather belt, which cinched his khaki pants well above his waist. Twitch. Twitch.

We remember the man-handling we received at Mount Weather from the secret service goon, Adam said. We’re not going to subject ourselves to that kind of treatment again.

I understand, James said. I was briefed on your experience. We’ve been instructed to treat you both with the greatest of respect and to remain cognizant of your every need. We will only be performing investigations which you approve of and are willing to participate in.

That’s a relief, Kay said and let out a sigh.

We’ll be staying at the Watergate Hotel, until you can find acceptable accommodations, John said.

Can we at least begin to get some baseline data today, James begged.

His voice had an unpleasant nasal whine, the twitch momentarily gone.

I will personally work on alternative housing tomorrow, he said.

They agreed and were taken to a Spartan room with bright fluorescent box lights filling the drop down ceiling, no windows, just empty white walls. Moses took Kay by the arm and led her to the far end of a long yellow Formica topped table sitting in the midst of the big room. Doctor Barringer escorted Adam to