Authors: Angella Graff
He packed himself his most inconspicuous clothing, sweaters, jeans, trousers, all muted tones so as not to attract the eye. He had to leave, and he had to leave now. There was no telling where Yehuda might be, and Mark had to find him before people found out what Yehuda was capable of.
The occasional healing was one thing. It had happened all over the world throughout the centuries. From time to time people would brush him in passing, and his power would leap out. Every now and again Yehuda would inadvertently pass along his power to an unsuspecting passerby, giving them the power to heal and manipulate matter.
Sometimes they got attention for it, but it always passed, and people began to forget, and it fell into legend and myth, just as Mark knew it had to be. This, however, was a different time. This was a time of science, where the knowledge of the human race was nearly doubling as each year passed. But the most dangerous part were the Christians, the zealous believers in a demi-god born out of an old legend based on the Hebrew God Mark had once worshiped. The nature of their Christ was deformed and manipulated by Mark's curse, and spread by a zealous, angry Greek man, Paul, who wanted nothing more than to be part of the religious mystery.
These Christians were dying out. The religion was reaching a point where it was no longer relevant to these times. They were reading two-thousand year old documents that had been translated so many times they did not even begin to resemble the original text.
Living as long as he had, Mark had come to discover how dangerous a dying people could be. They lashed out, desperately grasping to the last vestiges of their beliefs, crying out, louder and longer, trying to bring in as many as they could, manipulating whatever they needed to in order to stay alive, to stay relevant.
If these people discovered what he could do, the healing, the bleeding, and the most dangerous of all, bringing back the dead, there would be a riot on a global scale. Yehuda would be taken, he would be locked away, and Mark wasn't sure he would ever be able to get Yehuda back.
Fueled by fear and determination, Mark grabbed his suitcase, shoved his glasses on his face, grabbed his cane and he was out the door. He had everything important to him, so he left the door open. There would be no goodbye note, and he would not be coming back. He felt terrible that people would wonder what had happened to him, but he had no choice.
Mark moved silently through the hall, listening with trained ears to see if anyone was nearby. He could only assume the detectives on Yehuda's case were still in the building, and the last thing they needed to see was him making an escape with a suitcase.
He had to take the risk, however, because he had no other choice. The coast seemingly clear, Mark walked swiftly through the door at the end of the hall, heading down an echoing hallway which twisted and turned, angling into a steep downward slope into the school’s parking garage.
Mark frequented the garage whenever he needed to slip in and out of the school unnoticed, and knew that around this time of day it would be virtually empty. The staff used it, as San Francisco parking was a rare commodity, but the teachers who hadn't fled the moment their last classes had ended, would likely be at the school for several more hours grading papers and preparing lesson plans.
The door opened into the garage with a frightening bang, making Mark flinch. He glanced around to see the area nearly vacant, and rushed in the direction of a small black car parked next to one of the massive concrete columns.
He'd nearly put the key in the lock when the door to the garage banged open once more. Terrified, Mark froze, not turning, hands poised on door handle. It was now or never, and Mark was in the position to do anything he needed to get out.
Anything
.
“Mark!” He turned at the sound of the familiar voice, and saw Abby racing toward him, finding himself relieved when he saw she was alone.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed at her, ripping his dark glasses off of his face.
“After those detectives left I went to your apartment to find you, but you were gone,” she said. Her voice was tense, clearly hurt, and Mark knew then that she'd seen his things were gone.
“Abby, I need to go. I'm sorry I didn't stop to say goodbye, but this is serious and I can't wait any longer.”
“I know,” Abby said. “I overheard the detectives talking about my brother's case, those patients just getting up and walking out of their beds. My brother doesn't know that they know, either. Something is going on, something dangerous, and we have to warn Ben.”
“I don't have time to warn your brother. I have to find Yehuda before anyone else discovers what he's capable of. I'm not sure you realize what could happen if people start to notice what he can do, even in a comatose state.”
“So you think he's still unconscious?”
Mark ignored her, unlocking the car and pulling the door open. “I'm sorry Abby, I don't have time to explain.”
“It's okay,” she said, and before Mark could respond, she dashed to the other side of the car and got in. “You can explain on the way. We're off to San Diego, right? To the hospital?”
Mark groaned and slid into the driver's seat. “I can't allow you to come.”
“You're not
allowing
me to do anything,” Abby pressed as she buckled her seat belt. “I may not quite know who or what you are, or what your friend is capable of, but I realize how dangerous this can get, and I'm going to help you however I can.”
“Do you realize what helping me might mean?” Mark asked her as he started up the engine. “Do you have any idea what I might have to do in order to secure possession of Yehuda?”
“I think so,” she said, but her voice had lost nearly all of its former confidence.
“I've killed before, Abigail,” he said, his voice gravely serious. “Without second thought, I've killed to secure our anonymity, our safety. I would not hesitate to do it again. Human laws mean very little to me when following them could mean my exposure, and I have no problem breaking them. In the end, any life is worth sacrificing in order to make sure that we are not discovered, that our gifts are kept secret, and that, my darling, includes yours.”
Abby swallowed hard, but her eyes narrowed in determination and she crossed her arms. “I don't care. Obviously this is serious. Obviously I don't quite understand most of it, but that doesn't matter. If what you say is true, if discovering your secret, if discovering who Yehuda is and what he can do will cause a war, then I suppose I should be willing to sacrifice my life in order to protect it.”
Mark stared at her, taking in her words, studying every nuance of her face. She was terrified, that much was clear. Her chin was quivering ever so slightly, though her clenched jaw was trying to prevent it. Her forehead was starting to sweat, and her pupils were dilated with her fear and adrenaline surging.
She was serious. It had been so long, longer than Mark cared to remember, since someone like Abby had come along. Humans were animals, when it came down to the bare bones of it. They were petrified of the unknown, willing to do anything to keep going. Mark had seen over and over, the way even the impossibly elderly people clung to life, desperate to stay conscious, to stay present in this world.
Humans were willing to do nearly anything not to face their own mortality. It was why Christianity was so dangerous. The promise of an afterlife of luxury, pleasure and something akin to human consciousness, the ability to recognize other humans for who they were on earth, was enough to make them kill. It was enough to make them take others down who might threaten their way of life.
Mark could have been one of them, had he not been gifted his impossible immortality. Mark had suffered what should have been death over and over. He could beg for it, wish for it, reach for it, but he would never die.
But Abby was willing to sacrifice her mortality, her consciousness, to protect the most dangerous information of all; Mark's truth. Mark didn't need a second more to decide. Putting the car in gear, Mark peeled out of the garage and into the fading light of the San Francisco streets.
“I'll do my absolute best to protect you,” Mark said as he navigated through the narrow streets of the city, making his way to the freeway. “I make no promises other than that.”
“I understand,” Abby said. She stared at him, watching the way his hands deftly twisted the steering wheel, weaving in and out of cars, moving through the city like he had always been there. “How long have you been driving, Mark?”
Mark was startled by the question, if only because the situation was so dire he hadn't expected her to wonder about such trivial things. He gave a little chuckle and a shrug. “Since the motor vehicle was invented, I suppose. I started driving in Germany when motorcars became available to the public.”
“That's so...” she trailed off and shook her head. “I wonder if I'm ever going to get used to it.”
“Likely no,” Mark said with a sad smile. “Even I, at times, am not used to the idea that I have been around for two-thousand years. Though I cannot die, I am still a human. When I'm finally able to leave this body, I believe I'll still fear what lies beyond it.”
“Heaven?”
Mark gave a little derisive snort and glanced over at her to see how serious she was. “The idea of Heaven is so human, Abby. I don't risk exposing any dangerous information in telling you that. So many humans are starting to figure that out on their own. The idea of what lies after our consciousness blinks out is far beyond human comprehension. Our souls understand it, but our human minds do not. The only thing we can really do is embrace those fears, accept them, and welcome death with our eyes wide open and our heads upright.”
“Is anything true? Any of the Bible?” Abby asked. Her voice was small and pained, as though she was just told a good friend was dying.
“The Bible was penned by men, Abigail. The Epistles of Paul were penned by that evangelist salesman and his students, desperate to bring mystery and excitement into a quiet philosophy, turning it into a religion promising the secret of an afterlife, answers to questions that previously no one could answer. Always remember, Abby, words written by men have an agenda. Sometimes their agenda is for the better, but it's usually for the self, and that almost always leads down a dangerous path.”
Abby fell silent, and when Mark looked over at her, she was staring out the window, crying silently. He didn't say anything, made no attempt to give her solace because it wouldn't help. Mark knew well the pain of losing one's faith. It was like having a piece of you ripped out; realizing everything you had once believed was a lie.
Mark had seen it, the promise of Heaven, ripped away from so many, and he knew that while the pain would lessen, it was something she would never forget. He gripped the wheel tighter, pressed the pedal harder, and sped down the freeway towards the city where Yehuda might still be.
He could not feel him yet, though he reached out with his mind, looking for that little spark. There were others, touched by powers Mark still, after all these years, didn't understand. He could feel their sparks as they passed by neighborhood after neighborhood, but they weren't Yehuda, and they didn't matter. He was going to find his companion, he was going to bring him home, and yet another war was going to be averted.
Chapter
Eighteen
Ben was sitting on a bench outside Sacred Heart, shielded from view by drooping willows that had been growing on the grounds for as long as Ben could remember. He was peering through the branches, watching the two detectives exit the building. They were talking in low voices, though the deep rumble of Burgess's voice carried over.
They were agitated; their interrogation had come up with nothing, as Ben had expected. Mark, he surmised, was likely their only lead, and with cases like this cropping up more and more, any lead turned into a desperate one.
Attempting to stay hidden, Ben watched as they eventually got into their car and sped off, Burgess behind the wheel, his face drawn and irritated. They didn't appear to have seen Ben, which was a good thing, since they suspected him of having more information than he initially said.