The Son of Man Read online

  “I’m hungry,” Jesus Christ said.

  “If you go out there you know what will happen—you know.”

  “I don’t care. I’m hungry, and we need a bottle for after.”

  “If you go out there,” Bartholomaei chanted, “you know what will happen—you know. If you go out there—you know what will happen—you know what will happen—you know.”

  Jesus Christ couldn’t help but laugh at his old friend. Bartholomaei could be so funny sometimes.

  He crawled out of his box and walked out into downtown Nashville, Tennessee. Bartholomaei’s melodic chanting slowly faded into the distance as he headed west, crossing through the busy Sherrie’s parking lot. At Demonbreun Street, he waited for the fast-moving traffic to ebb and bolted across. Upon reaching the safety of the other side of the road, he slowed and casually made his way south past the Hank Williams Museum and on to the hot dog stand where the circle of Demonbreun met the famous Sixteenth Avenue.

  Normally, this area was filled with tourists coming from all over the world to visit the country music capital, but it was chilly and there had been a lot of rain. Besides, this area of Nashville, known as Music Row, was slowly being dismantled and reassembled in a place less likely to be frequented by the likes of Jesus Christ, so he mostly had the place to himself.

  He turned west again and proceeded on toward West End Avenue. He was half-way to McGavock when they jumped out from the alley. Jesus Christ tried to run, but they were on him before he had a chance.

  “Well, look here.” the crusty voice hollered. “It’s Jesus Christ himself!”

  It was Barney and that one guy Pete. He hated them. He tried once more to get away, but Pete grabbed the lapel of his old coat along with a handful of skin. He held him high, forcing Jesus Christ to stand on his tiptoes.

  Barney sauntered past and slowly turned to consider the dull, scared eyes. “Jesus—where you going?”

  Jesus Christ winced from the pain. “Uh—I’m just going down to West End and get something to eat and then get a bottle for after.”

  “Good idea, Jesus. You go on down to West End and get us a bottle and something to eat.”

  “Y-yeah,” Pete said. “But why n-not just eat f-f-fish and J-Jesus could feed every b-body in N-Nashville?”

  Barney smirked. “Yeah, better idea, Pete. Let’s have fish so Jesus here can feed everybody in Nashville.”

  The two began laughing for reasons Jesus Christ didn’t fully understand. Barney abruptly stopped laughing, seized Jesus Christ by the throat and pulled his face up close to his own. “You go down on West End and get us a bottle and something to eat, and then you bring it back here. We’ll be waiting right here.”

  He pushed Jesus Christ toward West End. Jesus Christ ran as fast as he could. He knew if he didn’t, Barney would kick him in the butt. He ran west, rounded the corner and ran south. He was nearing Eighteenth Avenue by the time their laughter completely faded.

  ~~~

  The Boeing 727 began its slow descent over metropolitan Nashville. Throughout the long flight, Dr. James Donahue had been flooded with warm memories of his days back at old Vanderbilt, back when he and Blaze Jenkins ran the place. Blaze was one of the best Commodore quarterbacks anyone could remember. He was fast as a sprinter, big as a linebacker, and mean as a badger when necessary. Jim was a second-string wide receiver.

  The game was Vanderbilt at Tennessee, big, big rivalry, fourth down, last quarter, final play. Blaze threw the pass that counted and, because the starting wide receiver had pulled a groin, Jim was there to catch it. Nothing he’d done before or since could compare. Man, what a night. For Blaze it was just another game, but Jim would’ve been content to live in that moment forever.

  Even then, they both had an abiding interest in the science of cellular biology. That’s probably why they became friends to begin with. After graduating, they went on to receive doctorates and Blaze became a professor at their beloved Vanderbilt University in Nashville. He taught for a short time, then out of nowhere, got religion and became a Catholic priest. Go figure. Jim didn’t even know Blaze was Catholic.

  Seatbelts began clicking and he realized they were on the tarmac. He waited for the path to clear, and escaped down the jet-way, passed through the open double doors leading into the busy terminal gate, and walked into the crowded Nashville International Airport. He moved with the river of people through the terminal and into the vast, crowded halls filled with shops, restaurants, bars, and vendors, found baggage claim, and picked up the bags he had left home with.

  He walked out onto the wide covered walkway. A driver standing on the curb holding a sign that read Vanderbilt Medical School caught his eye.

  “You Dr. Donahue?” the driver said as Jim approached.

  “That’s me—did Bla—Father Jenkins send you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So, I take it you know where I’m going?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The driver quickly opened the door for Jim and loaded his luggage into the cavernous trunk of the town-car. “Sorry, sir,” he said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m supposed to pick up another gentleman. You mind waiting?”

  “Really? Anyone I know?”

  “I’m not sure. You mind if I sit in there? It’s starting to rain a little.”

  “Course not,” Jim said.

  The driver leaned the sign against the gleaming white town-car, slipped into the driver seat, and looked down at his note pad. “You know a … Dr. Victor Perez?”

  “Victor—sure, he’s the in vitro guy. That’s interesting. Is he meeting with Father Jenkins, too?”

  “I guess. Going to the same place as you, anyway. What’s an in vitro guy?”

  “Oh he’s a—probably the biggest head in the field of in vitro fertilization right now. I wonder what—“

  “I heard you won the Nobel Prize,” the driver said, interrupting Jim. “I’m guessing that don’t make you no slouch.”

  Jim laughed. “I guess that don’t.”

  The driver glanced out the window. “I think that’s our boy.”

  Jim turned to see a balding little Hispanic man in a dark blue crinkled suit standing just outside the town-car. His face was curled up in a frown behind crooked, thick-lens glasses. His right index finger was poised and ready to tap on the car window if necessary.

  The driver stepped out and reached for the bald man’s luggage. “Hello, sir… “Dr. Perez?”

  The little man looked up at the driver. “Yes. I take it you’re my ride?”

  “Yes sir,” the driver said, moving away with the luggage.

  The little man bent his knees to look into the car. “Dr. Donahue? You too?”

  “Hi, Victor,” Jim said, pushing his hand out, “any idea why we’re here?”

  Perez slid into one of the two facing seats, reached and shook Jim’s hand. “No idea. There was talk of unlimited funding, prosperity and fame, you know —the usual.”

  Jim smiled. "I know. I've been cross matching DNA samples for the last month, all under the radar. Nobody's talking, and they've even insisted I do the cross matching myself; no students. Knowing Blaze, It's probably cloak and dagger by design. He knows I can't pass on a good conundrum."

  Perez pulled his glasses off, produced a handkerchief from his suit pocket and began earnestly buffing the lenses. “Whoever, or whatever they are," he said, "they certainly have the clout. Doctor Varese, the man whose finger is on my funding, practically insisted I come."

  The town-car pulled away from the busy airport and was soon heading west on I-40.

  “You went to school here, didn’t you?” Perez said as they rode.

  Jim looked out onto the Nashville skyline. “Yeah, Blaze—Father Jenkins and I were here together. We used to call this place Gotham City.”

  “A lot of people do,” Perez said, pointing at the Bell South building. “Because of the bat building, I suppose.”

  “You know about the bat building?”

  �
��Mrs. Perez and I spent a little time here back in our younger days. By the way, congrats on the Nobel.”

  “Yeah,” Jim said shaking his head, “my God, what an honor.”

  Perez returned his glasses to his face. “I read your paper…tantalizing. You’ve really done it—reanimated inert DNA tissue. I’ve always heard you were a man who could flush out the birds, but you’ve outdone yourself on this one.”

  “I just came in first,” Jim said. “Believe me, a lot of good people were right on my backside.”

  Perez grinned and re-adjusted his glasses. “Accept it my friend. Take it and run, I would.”

  Jim glanced out the window. “Here we are already,” he said, as the car turned left into the spacious parking lot of the Patch Rankin building. The driver had called ahead and Blaze was waiting at the building’s parking veranda. It still surprised Jim to see his 6 foot 7 pal dressed like a Catholic priest.

  “Jimmy!” Blaze hollered. “I’ve finally got you back here.” He jumped, gave Jim the handshake-bear hug combo and turned to Perez. “Dr. Perez, what an honor it is to have you here—both of you here. This is just incredible.”

  “Blaze, you big bear,” Jim said. “Haven’t changed a bit—well, I mean except for the outfit, the grey hair, pot belly—”

  “Don’t start.” Blaze said, throwing his big arm over Jim’s shoulder. “How was your flight?”

  “It was fine. The town-car was a nice touch.”

  The car is just one of the perks, my friend. Come with me. There’s someone here who’s been waiting a long time to meet you—”

  “Preacher, got any change?”

  Jim glanced up at the intrusion. A dirty looking, rain soaked vagrant dressed in mismatched, ill-fitting clothing had approached them from off the street. Jim was surprised at how young the vagrant appeared to be.

  Blaze reached for his wallet. “I believe I do,” he said, handing the vagrant a $20 bill.

  The kid’s face brightened. “Thanks, preacher. Your sins are forgiven.”

  Blaze smiled. “Why…thank you. That’s always good to know.”

  Suddenly the vagrant inexplicably jumped as if he’d been shocked. He stood glaring at them before cautiously moving away.

  “Unfortunately we have our share of the homeless,” Blaze said, motioning towards the lobby. “There’s a little cafe in the building. As I said, someone has been waiting to meet the two of you and I took the liberty of having her wait in the cafe, do you mind?”

  “Her?” Jim said.

  “Well, her and a friend, fiancé I believe.”

  Blaze led Jim into the lobby with Perez following close behind and took a quick shortcut through a small kitchenette. They moved into a dining area smelling of hot buttered rolls and coffee. Tables tastefully decorated with New England style décor, filled the small nook. The walls were adorned with nostalgic hundred-year-old black and white prints of nineteenth century Nashville.

  As they rounded a corner Jim’s eyes fixed on a young woman sitting at a table directly in front of him. He slowed to a stop, breaking Blaze’s stride and stood staring. The girl looked up. Her exquisite green eyes focused on him. She smiled. Jim felt himself flush.

  “Jim…Dr. Perez,” Blaze said as they approached, “I’d like you to meet Todd Riley—and the young lady who wanted so much to meet you both, Ms. Maria Rose.”

  Jim reached for Maria’s hand. “I’m—very happy to meet you,” he said softly. He stood staring, unable to pull his eyes away. Finally he glanced off noticing for the first time the imposing young man sitting next to her.

  Even Jim, a man who had grown up in Chicago, had spent his entire adult life immersed in the world of academia, could tell at a glance that this young man was old country. It had little to do with his clothing…indeed, in place of the iconic cowboy hat, he wore a black ball cap and an indistinct white tee shirt. Even so, he wore his old country like an aristocrat wears old money. He was tall and heavy built, probably over six feet. His face was refined, chiseled and masculine. His square jaw seemed incomplete without a plug of Copenhagen in his lip.

  The kid was clearly jealous over Jim’s manifest attention to the girl and although his seething, silver-blue eyes were glaring back, he seemed unsettlingly confident and comfortable. It occurred to Jim that this young man was probably not someone you would want to physically tangle with.

  “Maria has to leave us right away,” Blaze said. “She’s having some very important tests done at the med school at Vanderbilt so she’s in a bit of a hurry.”

  Jim took his seat. “What a shame.”

  “When Father Jenkins told me you were coming I had to meet you both,” Maria said. “I’ve been following your work very closely.”

  Jim grinned. “Really? You’ve been following my work?”

  “Absolutely,” Maria said. “Both you and Doctor Perez, I’m very impressed.” She reached, shook Dr. Perez’s hand and turned back to face Jim.

  “Maria and I gotta go,” Todd said, his deep velvet voice commanding attention. “We have an appointment in a few hours. We really ought to get off to the hotel and get squared away.”

  Jim raised his eyebrows. “Where are you staying?”

  “We’re at the Hillshire.” Maria answered.

  “I’m there too,” Jim said, smiling at Maria, “room 123. We should have a drink—”

  “Maria, we really should go,” Todd interrupted.

  “You’re right. Let’s get this thing over with.”

  She stood to leave.

  Jim watched in silence as she fumbled about in her bag. Her raven hair fell over her face. He seized the moment to scan her svelte body in a glance, indiscreetly look away, and immediately notice every other man in the nook doing the same.

  “It was nice meeting you all,” Maria said, as she and Todd made their way back to the lobby.

  Jim continued watching as they left. “That’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Blaze—who is she?”

  “You don’t want to get mixed up with her,” Blaze said. “Besides, she’s with that kid.”

  “Who are they? Why is she interested in my work?”

  “She’s a student. Turns out we’re here on mutual business. They were on their way to the hotel just as you arrived.”

  “How long have you known her?”

  Blaze laughed. “Jim…she’s just a kid.”

  “Had to say it, didn’t you,” Jim said chuckling.

  ~~~

  Jesus Christ walked quickly down a side street behind the Patch Rankin building. Something strange had just happened. He was talking to a kind priest—at least he might’ve been kind. He wasn’t sure now. He could feel a strange presence accompanied by an odd vibration. He had to get to his box. He’d go and sort things out there. As he walked, he noticed a sort of clarity, like frost clearing off a heated windshield. It terrified him. He started running.

  He reached his box just in time. It was really starting to rain. He had forgotten he was hungry. He’d even forgotten he had twenty bucks. All he could think of was the dark horror that seemed to be looming everywhere. Bartholomaei was nowhere to be found, and Bartholomaei never left the box.

  He tried pulling the cardboard flaps closed as best he could to shield himself from the torrential rain. He peered out at the looming darkness into the surreal downpour distorting the Sherrie’s Restaurant parking lot. The rain was zinging off the tour busses that lined the adjacent hotel. An occasional flash of lightning made a ghostly silhouette of a towering, five-story building behind Sherries. With each flash, the menacing spire somehow seemed to move closer. He had to try to take control of himself. Even he could see that the unseen, unreasonable terror was consuming him. He decided to try to sleep.

  Lying in the wet mud filling the bottom of the box, he tried his best to cover himself with the newspapers he’d managed to salvage over the weekend.

  “JESUS!”

  He stopped mid-breath. He thought he heard something.

  “JESU
S!”

  It was coming from just outside the box. He decided to stay put. He was sure it was Barney, that stupid guy. Tomorrow he’d tell him not to do that anymore or he might get a stick and—

  “JESUS!”

  He yelped, jumped to his knees and peered out between the flaps of the box.

  That’s when he saw it. It was standing in the downpour looking like a shimmering black flame, the size and shape of a man, silhouetted against the dim wash of the yellow parking lot lights. From the corner of the hotel sidewalk, it pushed off and began moving forward towards him. At first, Jesus Christ thought it was someone belonging to a tour bus because it appeared to get on one. But then, to his horror, it moved straight through the bus and then another. It was still moving towards him.

  Jesus Christ began screaming as it approached. It was gliding inches from the ground, grinning a toothy, otherworldly grin, its eyes devoid of all white—huge and black as pitch.

  Jesus Christ’s screaming intensified. His hysterical, reptilian mind took command as he wrestled the box into a wet, writhing pulp. The rain was coming down in torrential sheets now. The sticky liquid darkness held him as the abhorrence loomed down on him.

  “JESUS!”

  The horrid voice scraped across his eardrums like a rasp. He rolled onto his back. A sudden blinding burst of white lightning silhouetted the ghastly aberration as it hovered directly over him. He gasped a mouthful of rain and screamed a guttural, horrified shriek only to have it absorbed by an earth-shattering clap of thunder.

  “Jesus, son of the Father.”

  His hysteria cleared slightly.

  “Jesus, son of the Father, with whom I am well pleased, fear not, for I have come to make desolate the lives of thine enemies.”

  It was the horror talking, he was sure of it.

  “Fear not, my son. For behold, I will greatly bless thee.”

  “Go away!” Jesus Christ screamed.

  In an instant, the aberration was gone. Jesus Christ rolled over and jumped to his feet. Looking wildly around him, he dove into the wet bushes and lay there in the deluge crying. Something broke loose, sending a torrent of water pouring over his head. It washed over him and was gone. Still, he dared not move.

  Slowly, as his fear began to fade, he became aware of something pushing against his chest. He reached down to move it away and noticed it was a canvas bag. Carefully, he held it up trying to read the lettering on the side. He struggled to make it out. “We-Wells-Wells Fargo Bank, Northwest N.A.”