When he finally let her go, it was obvious that both his wife, and her lover, were dead. He felt nothing, no remorse, no sorrow, no pain, no loss. He was numb. He went into the bathroom and cleaned himself absentmindedly. When he was finished, he walked out of their bedroom not bothering to look at the gruesome scene on the bed. He went to a cupboard and took out a bottle of wine they were saving to celebrate the birth of their baby. He uncorked it, and poured himself a glass. When that was finished, he poured another and dialed the number for security.
Crime could not be tolerated in their closed society. However, there was still a system in place to determine the appropriate punishments. The investigation office of the security forces handled all complaints of theft, assault, destruction of property, and so forth. When their reports were finished, a copy was forwarded to the board of directors who determined the penalties. For minor infractions, anything from extra duty, to a loss of rations could be imposed. For more serious offenses, four cells were maintained in the security force department where people could be confined for a set period. In the most severe cases, individuals were sentenced to banishment. This, in effect, was a death sentence.
There were several tunnels large enough to accommodate foot traffic and small utility vehicles, which lead toward the surface. They varied in direction. One of these was reserved for this purpose, as there was no known surface population in the vicinity. There was a two-door sally port built in the tunnel, with a vacuum, which allowed for the area between them to be pressurized and afforded a measure of protection from the outside.
Inspector Gibbs saw it as his duty to carry out the expulsion. He and his men escorted the man to the sally port, and closed the door behind him. They gave him no supplies of any kind. Once the outer door opened, the man walked through it willingly to accept his fate. The tunnel was cool and the air felt fresh. It was something he had not experienced in the years inside. The tunnel wound its way another thousand yards before he came to its opening. He looked at the horizon noticing the broken clouds in the skies, and several rays of sunlight. The air was warm, and there was a slight breeze. It was beautiful, he thought, but it was also death. This he knew.
He made his way down through the rocky slope, and through the foothills. Even though his life had changed in ways he never expected, and he had done things he could never have imagined doing, he was at peace, not a peace of contentment and tranquility, but a peace of finality.
Several more days passed as he noticed the signs of water depravation. The air was dry, and he no longer produced any sweat. He thought about moving only at night, but it seemed pointless. There were more trees the further he traveled from the mountain, so he knew water was available. He also started seeing telltale signs of animal life. Tracks were visible in the loose ground and an occasional set of bones lay bare. He found a small pool of water in the shade of a large boulder. He used both of his hands, cupped together, to drink his fill. In the process of doing so, he scrapped his right forearm causing a small flow of blood. He ignored this as he slowly drank until he was completely satisfied. He washed and cleaned his cut while drying it with the sleeve of his shirt.
The night was very pleasant, and he was feeling the restorative effects of being re-hydrated. In the morning, he decided he would make a serious attempt to find food, hunting it if necessary. What he did not realize was that there were already hunters in the vicinity, and they, too, were hungry. The trace amounts of blood on his sleeve were as noticeable to a Ravener as smoke from a fire was to a normal human. It did not take them long to locate their prey. Once they did, only the night could hear his screams, as he was eaten alive suffering a death too horrifying even for a nightmare.
FIVE
They met together twice every month. Once, as two thirds of the board of directors meeting, and another time when it was just the two of them. They started this journey together many years before. While they gave the impression of promoting a common goal among those they served, they in fact left nothing to chance and were quite skilled at manipulating matters to develop as they designed. They were approaching one such stage now.
“Have you been able to duplicate the serum Martin,” Frank Bishop asked.
“No. It seems that using genes from live planaria is the only way. Trying to duplicate the results from treated hosts does not have the same affect.”
“How much do you have left?”
“Not enough,” Martin Maddow stated pointedly, “If you want to move forward, I suggest we start now. I will be able to treat one person, as it is, maybe two. But I would like to make sure the first one takes before attempting another.”
“I thought you were going to keep more in reserve,” Mr. Bishop said accusingly.
“We only need one. Just make it the ’right’ one,” he replied evenly.
The two men looked at each other understanding that there was no point in argument, or unnecessary diversions. They each played their part, and they would continue to do so until they had achieved their ultimate goal.
“Keith,” Mr. Bishop said.
“Is that because he is your son, or the right person for the task,” Maddow asked.
“Both. He has always been able to overcome anything he was faced with. He is also someone I can control. As long as his wife is happy, he is happy. And as long as his wife is safe, he will do what is asked of him.”
Dr. Maddow nodded his head in understanding. “I suggest you tell him as little as possible. I’ll keep his wife busy while he is undergoing treatment. Let me know when he is ready.”
“Tomorrow morning. If there is a problem, then I’ll select someone else and have them ready. But this needs to be done now.”
The problem with humanity was aging. Man could learn a wealth of information during his life, only to pass on a limited amount of that knowledge to the successive generations. Even with that vast amount of accumulated knowledge, it still takes years of dedicated study to understand everything that preceded them, giving them less time to add to it.
The government financed their scientific researchers to undertake unprecedented, and even unethical, steps to develop a modern ‘fountain of youth.’ Dr. Martin Maddow, molecular biologist, and clinical director for project F.O.Y. spent more than thirty years with some of the nation’s top scientists attempting to manipulate the genes that control cellular activity.
Cellular multiplication had to be kept from degenerating with time and age. Also, genetic and health factors had to be self-adjusting in order to limit the effects of environment and heredity. In a perfect state of existence, free of disease and environmental stress, a body should be able to regenerate itself in perpetuity. Since it was impossible to achieve the necessary control over the environment, focus turned within. The determination was made to target two biological aspects: cellular regeneration, and the lymphatic system. It was theorized that if cellular regeneration could continue without interruption, or decrease, in an environment free of disease and internal stressors, then the body would continue to not only live, but live in the same condition that existed at the time of treatment. In other words, a man treated at the age of twenty-five would continue to look, feel, and have the same abilities and traits of that twenty-five year old regardless of what age he lived to be; possibly to infinity.