wondering why.
“I heard your plane crashed,” Rose commented as they walked down a corridor at the Chicago Institute.
“Yeah. How do you like that? And I slept through it.” He pointed to the top of his head. “Three stitches.”
“You big baby.”
They rounded yet another bend, and Marcus looked back. “I’m going to get lost. I’ve never been in this wing.”
“They just redid it. Also just for you, they added an escape route.”
“Are you serious?” Marcus asked.
“Yep,” Rose replied.
Rose showed her identification to one of two guards standing at the end of the hallway. After examining it, the guard stretched a key from the coil around his belt and inserted it into a small hole in the wall.
“Better check to see if you’re in there,” Rose admonished jokingly.
“I’d better be.” Marcus placed his palm flat on the tray. A sequence of small lights flashed on and off. Marcus heard a buzz. The door behind the guards opened.
“We’re home.” Rose stepped through. “You’re the first door. You got the big office.” She inserted a card key into the door.
“Big enough for company?” Marcus asked, stepping through the threshold.
“Who are you planning on moving in? Wife number five?”
“Maybe.” Marcus smiled. “Not bad,” he said. The quarters were spacious, living room with kitchen attached to the back wall. “Home for nine months.”
“Bathroom to your left. Bedroom to your right,” said Rose. “One large closet.” She slid open the double doors next to the bedroom door. “But you don’t have too many clothes, do you?”
“Yes, I do.” Marcus walked up to Rose and closed the closet. “They’re just mostly the same.”
Rose raised her eyebrows and grinned. “Here’s your card key.” She handed it to Marcus.
“Thanks.” Marcus watched Rose turn and leave with her right hand raised in goodbye. He walked to his bedroom. It was tiny; there was barely enough room for a bed and a dresser. His bags lay at the foot of the bed. Unpacking would have to wait, Marcus thought. He’d only needed a change of clothes for home. And after a shower, home was where he was headed.
Seville, Ohio
“Reg. Hurry up,” Kyle called from the living room. He sat on the couch trying to comb Seth’s hair. No matter how much he wet it down, the boy’s hair just popped back up. “What in the world is wrong with your hair?”
“Pap, I can do it,” Seth said assuredly, his face crinkled with conviction. “Ow! Pap, that hurts.”
“Here. I give up.” Kyle handed Seth the comb. “Reg!”
“I’m hurrying,” Reggie yelled from the other room.
“What’s taking you so long? We’re only going to visit Eliza and George,” Kyle yelled back.
The local news came on the television. The front entrance to the Westing Biogenetic Institute appeared on the screen. Kyle grabbed the remote control and turned up the volume.
A reporter stood outside in a light drizzle, holding a microphone, commenting on the large number of protestors assembled behind him. The camera scanned the crowd. There were mobs of people, some toting signs, some jumping up and down, and waving their arms.
“...and within the turmoil, another group of signs appeared.” the reporter said. “These signs did not spell hatred, nor condemnation, but peace.” The male reporter moved to a rain-soaked old woman who held a sign saying, “Support the Lord’s Work, Not the Violence.”
“Is it true, ma’am, you came all the way from Indiana this morning?”
“Yes sir. I came up right away,” she nodded. “Got a call from Rev. Bailey. He wants us to let these people do their work in peace… to stop the violence. We say that if the good Lord wants to send His Son in the form of a clone, then we should embrace Him for the miracle He is.”
“Idiots.” Kyle shut off the set. “They’d believe anything that quack tells them. Seth, get your coat. We have...”
“I’m ready,” Reggie proclaimed,
“I heard your plane crashed,” Rose commented as they walked down a corridor at the Chicago Institute.
“Yeah. How do you like that? And I slept through it.” He pointed to the top of his head. “Three stitches.”
“You big baby.”
They rounded yet another bend, and Marcus looked back. “I’m going to get lost. I’ve never been in this wing.”
“They just redid it. Also just for you, they added an escape route.”
“Are you serious?” Marcus asked.
“Yep,” Rose replied.
Rose showed her identification to one of two guards standing at the end of the hallway. After examining it, the guard stretched a key from the coil around his belt and inserted it into a small hole in the wall.
“Better check to see if you’re in there,” Rose admonished jokingly.
“I’d better be.” Marcus placed his palm flat on the tray. A sequence of small lights flashed on and off. Marcus heard a buzz. The door behind the guards opened.
“We’re home.” Rose stepped through. “You’re the first door. You got the big office.” She inserted a card key into the door.
“Big enough for company?” Marcus asked, stepping through the threshold.
“Who are you planning on moving in? Wife number five?”
“Maybe.” Marcus smiled. “Not bad,” he said. The quarters were spacious, living room with kitchen attached to the back wall. “Home for nine months.”
“Bathroom to your left. Bedroom to your right,” said Rose. “One large closet.” She slid open the double doors next to the bedroom door. “But you don’t have too many clothes, do you?”
“Yes, I do.” Marcus walked up to Rose and closed the closet. “They’re just mostly the same.”
Rose raised her eyebrows and grinned. “Here’s your card key.” She handed it to Marcus.
“Thanks.” Marcus watched Rose turn and leave with her right hand raised in goodbye. He walked to his bedroom. It was tiny; there was barely enough room for a bed and a dresser. His bags lay at the foot of the bed. Unpacking would have to wait, Marcus thought. He’d only needed a change of clothes for home. And after a shower, home was where he was headed.
Seville, Ohio
“Reg. Hurry up,” Kyle called from the living room. He sat on the couch trying to comb Seth’s hair. No matter how much he wet it down, the boy’s hair just popped back up. “What in the world is wrong with your hair?”
“Pap, I can do it,” Seth said assuredly, his face crinkled with conviction. “Ow! Pap, that hurts.”
“Here. I give up.” Kyle handed Seth the comb. “Reg!”
“I’m hurrying,” Reggie yelled from the other room.
“What’s taking you so long? We’re only going to visit Eliza and George,” Kyle yelled back.
The local news came on the television. The front entrance to the Westing Biogenetic Institute appeared on the screen. Kyle grabbed the remote control and turned up the volume.
A reporter stood outside in a light drizzle, holding a microphone, commenting on the large number of protestors assembled behind him. The camera scanned the crowd. There were mobs of people, some toting signs, some jumping up and down, and waving their arms.
“...and within the turmoil, another group of signs appeared.” the reporter said. “These signs did not spell hatred, nor condemnation, but peace.” The male reporter moved to a rain-soaked old woman who held a sign saying, “Support the Lord’s Work, Not the Violence.”
“Is it true, ma’am, you came all the way from Indiana this morning?”
“Yes sir. I came up right away,” she nodded. “Got a call from Rev. Bailey. He wants us to let these people do their work in peace… to stop the violence. We say that if the good Lord wants to send His Son in the form of a clone, then we should embrace Him for the miracle He is.”
“Idiots.” Kyle shut off the set. “They’d believe anything that quack tells them. Seth, get your coat. We have...”
“I’m ready,” Reggie proclaimed,
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