Authors: Angella Graff
Trying to keep calm, Ben questioned a few of the other teachers who remained on the campus late, but no one had seen her since the afternoon. Fretting, Ben went back to his office and drew up a missing persons report, determined to file it the moment he finished talking with the doctor.
He had to physically fight the urge to tell every officer to put California County on alert for his sister. Ben reminded himself repeatedly that if Abby was with Mark, she went willingly. Even her absurd belief that Mark was some immortal friend of Jesus didn't change the fact that Abby was in love with him and would put herself in a very dangerous situation to prove her loyalty.
Ben was trembling, though he tried his best to control it as he waited at his desk for the doctor's call. He had fixed himself a rather large cup of chamomile tea, and he stared at his computer screen.
The county lab had returned the autopsy results on two of the victims along with a personal and obviously concerned email.
Det. Stanford,
As far as the victims are concerned, I cannot find a single trace of foul play regarding the deaths. However, my biggest concern is that so far, in the autopsies I have completed, both patients seem to have expired due to an accelerated aging of the internal organs. The liver, kidneys, lungs and heart all match the organs I might find in a ninety or even one hundred year old patient, but none of these people were older than thirty-five.
I have no choice but to rule their deaths, so far, as natural causes, though I am researching possible medications or street drugs that might have some similar effect, over prolonged use. I will keep in contact, but for now, here are my official results. I'm going to request that despite the findings, the homicide case not be closed just yet, until I've had time to do further research.
I will be in contact with you as soon as I can.
-Rick Christie
Ben read through the email several times before sitting back in his chair and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He wasn't sure what that meant, how those people could all be ruled natural causes if their deaths were so similar and so sudden. How could comatose patients stroll out of their beds, disappear for two weeks and then turn up dead from accelerated organ failure?
The ringing cell phone startled Ben and he jumped, grabbing it off the desk with shaking hands, and saw it was the doctor calling. “Are you in town?” he said.
“Yes, detective. I'm afraid I'm a tad lost, but if you can point me in some direction we can talk, I'm sure this won't take too long.”
Ben hesitated, trying to think of a safe place. Though he trusted the doctor to a point, he wasn't comfortable bringing the man to his personal residence, and taking him to Abby's was out of the question. His office would not be an ideal place since he had no idea what kind of information this doctor would have, and he knew that Mark's apartment was probably going to be discovered vacant soon and the detectives on the John Doe case would be watching the place.
“We should probably meet at a cafe somewhere,” Ben eventually answered. “I'm afraid with everything going on, it's the only safe place I can think of.”
“There's a rehabilitation center on the corner of Cherry and California,” Greg said, “and I believe there's a small cafe directly across the street from there. Would you be willing to meet there?”
Ben could hear an ulterior motive in the doctor's voice and he hesitated. “Why there?”
“It's necessary,” Greg replied shortly. “I promise I will tell you everything there.”
“You do realize I'm a detective, with a gun, and an entire department that will hunt you down if anything goes wrong?” Ben warned.
“I promise that won't be necessary.”
Ben sighed and looked at the clock. “I can be there in half an hour.” He didn't wait for the doctor's conformation before he hung up. He turned off his computer, stuck the printed files from his cases in his brief case, and managed a terse goodbye to those still in the station this late into the evening.
He threw his case onto the passenger seat in the car and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. It felt like his life was suddenly careening out of control, and he wasn't sure why. Ben had spent his entire life trying to make sure he was put together. His mother, the hectic and fickle life she led drove Ben into the field of police work, wanting structure and the detective work had provided.
Now, however, he was struggling to understand his sudden wellness, his sister disappearing, a man who claimed to be immortal, a case with no plausible, scientific explanation for the deaths of the victims, and a doctor who wanted to meet but refused to give any information over the phone.
Ben let out a breath and tried not to think of Abby as he put his car into drive and headed for the cafe across the street from the hospital. He arrived sooner than he expected, the lack of traffic surprising him, and as he found a spot close to the cafe, he saw the doctor getting out of his impossibly large SUV.
Shaking his head at the absurdity of the entire situation, Ben didn't wait for the doctor, but instead went inside and immediately ordered a decaf espresso, craving the taste, and having no need for the caffeine boost. He was just paying for his drink when the doctor approached.
Instead of his lab coat, the doctor was clad in a sweater and pair of jeans, making him look years younger, which surprised Ben. He smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and he extended a hand to Ben.
“Thank you for this meeting,” he said softly.
“No problem,” Ben said.
As Ben received his drink, he waited for the doctor to receive his, and eventually the pair settled in a small booth near the back of the cafe. Luckily for the both of them, the cafe was all-but deserted.
“I'm sorry for all the secrecy, Mr. Stanford, but telling you what I know could potentially put me in quite a bit of danger.”
“Please call me Ben,” he replied to the doctor, trying to give the man a sense of informality. It was a technique Ben had learned in his younger years, a psychosomatic way of urging people to reveal information more readily than they normally would.
“Ben, yes, and you must please call me Greg.” The doctor paused and took a drink of his hot latte. “When we first met, I was already intrigued by your John Doe patient. I was informed that prior to being brought to my hospital he had sustained wounds that seemed to have closed on their own, before he was treated by paramedics. The officers on scene managed to retrieve blood samples from the floor which I was able to match to the patient. You know also that I found a rather startling discovery regarding the bacteria in his body and puzzling genetic code.”
“Yes, we did discuss that,” Ben said, fearing now the doctor might have bought into the ridiculous Judas Iscariot story. “What of it?”
“I'll get started straight away and just tell you that after a short period of time, I recognized John Doe to be something different than normal humans. He possessed a unique genetic makeup, and after a consultation, I was informed of his true identity.”
Ben groaned and hung his head. “Not you. Please tell me you don't buy into this.”
“I realize you're not a believer, Ben,” Greg said patiently. “In fact, I envy you, because it would be so much easier. I wish I didn't have to sit here and tell you that the man missing is Judas Iscariot, that the man visiting him at the hospital was an immortal friend, and that they weren't gifted that immortality by gods.”
“Gods?” Ben asked, not missing the subtle 's' on the end of the word.
Greg looked at Ben for a long time. “What I'm about to tell you, you're not going to believe. In fact, it's probably why you were chosen, Ben, because being a non-believer keeps you safe from the others.”
“Chosen?” Ben asked, unable to keep the anger and frustration from his voice. “And what do you mean by others?”
Greg gave a small sigh and spread his hands out on the table. “You see, the patients that went missing at the hospital were normal human beings, except they suffered from various injuries and illness rendering them comatose. Most of them would have been there until their natural deaths, living off machines and being fed by tubes.”
“I have their medical backgrounds,” Ben said. “I'm aware of what their conditions were before they disappeared.”
“There's something those reports aren't going to tell you,” Greg said softly. He paused and looked around for a moment, making sure no one was in earshot. “How familiar are you with Greek Mythos?”
Ben paused, a little shocked from having not expecting that question at all. “Greek Mythos? As in Zeus and Aphrodite and the Odyssey?”
Greg flinched a little, but gave a nod. “Not much, I take it?”
“Only from the humanities classes I took in college years and years ago, why?” Ben asked with a shrug, absolutely perplexed at the direction the conversation had taken.
“I expected as much, as you didn't recognize my last name,” Greg said. When Ben frowned at him, Greg clarified, “Asclepius is the Greek god of medicine.”
Ben raised an eyebrow, feeling a sort of hysterical rage bubbling up in his gut. “You're about to tell me that these gods are still around, aren't you? I don't think you're going to tell me that you are that god of medicine, but you're going to tell me you're connected to him somehow.”
Greg blinked with surprise, and Ben gave a little chuckle
. “You want to know how I know,” Ben continued. “You wouldn't be drawing the comparison between your last name and that particular god if you weren't going to follow up with something you found important, and the only thing important about that situation in this moment is your connection to that god. You used the present tense, he is the god of medicine, instead of was, which most scholars of religious mythos would use. You obviously believe they're still around, and coming to that conclusion, this conversation is over.”
Ben started to get up, his face bright red with fury, but Greg reached out suddenly, and held him in place firmly. “Don't go just yet. I'm afraid I can prove it, as unpleasant as it will be.”
“
Oh
?” Ben asked in a rather sarcastic tone, pulling his arm away from Greg firmly, but politely.
“Everything you've been taught about religion is false, Ben,” Greg said softly. “It would take me an eternity to explain everything to you, and to be honest I don't know a lot of it. All I know is that the old gods are still present in our world, and though they have little power and influence anymore, they are responsible for your missing patients.”
“So what, they just woke those people up?” Ben asked with a snort.
“No,” Greg said in a low voice. “If it were that simple, those people would still be alive and I would not be here talking to you right now. Those people were special people, a sort of people that the old gods could use, and because of that, the gods were able to enter their bodies and use them until they died.”
Ben rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yeah, okay.”
Greg folded his hands on the table, his soft blue eyes pleading as he stared at the unbelieving detective. “If you just give me the chance to explain, I swear I can make everything clear.”
Chapter
Nineteen
Abby fell asleep a few hours into the ride, as Mark pushed forward on the eight hour drive to the city. He kept his mind stretched as far as he could, searching for some sign of Yehuda, but so far it was still just blackness.
It was impossibly late by the time they arrived at the hospital parking lot, nearly two o'clock in the morning, and the gates were locked up. Mark drove around, searching for a place where he wouldn't be detected by cameras, and put the car into park.