Mark of the Beast Read online

  Here it was, 7:30 P.M., and she had quite a distance to drive to get to her home on Ogeechee Road. Because of the traffic jam on Route 95, Stella sat in her motionless car and reflected on her trip to Chicago and the visit to the Oak Lawn facility.

  She was most impressed with the exclusivity of their project. The special crate arrived through United Parcel Service to section E of the Oak Lawn medical research facility.

  Dr. Hamish K. Shah, the medical director, was very cordial. He assured Stella of the high level of security for their project and the difficulty anyone would have in attempting to get them to divulge information.

  He showed Stella the processing labs, the deep freeze, and the dedicated group of loyal employees. Finally, Dr. Shah asked whether she was happy with the money she made on the last delivery. Stella was certainly pleased with the $250,000 she received from Dr. Shah for their latest business deal. She couldn’t wait to get home and show the check to Martin.

  When Stella finally reached home, she backed the Toyota Highlander into the garage.

  Inside, Martin was playing with Trianna and Joseph. Lisa, grouchy as usual, was sitting at the kitchen table writing in her secret diary, which nobody had read but everybody wanted to read.

  “Hi, honey,” Martin said as Stella entered through the garage door into the kitchen.

  “Hi!” Stella replied, putting her suitcase down between the kitchen and the living room door.

  “How was your trip?”

  “Brutal! Between the snowstorm in Chicago and the traffic, I thought I would never make it home.”

  “I know. They were talking about the storm in Chicago on TV. I was surprised they let the plane fly.”

  “That’s why I like parking the car at the airport for those short travels.”

  Trianna and Joseph were leaning against Stella’s business suit, waiting for attention.

  “Hi, kids!” Stella greeted the children. She leaned down and gave each one a bear hug.

  “Hi, Mom, nice to have you home,” said Trianna.

  “We missed you, Mom,” Joseph added.

  “What were you doing in Chicago, Mom?” Lisa said, not bothering to get up from the kitchen table where she was sitting.

  “Well,” Stella answered, “I went to Oak Lawn, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago, to visit Dr. Shah. He is the Chicago affiliate of my company.”

  “What’s affiliate mean?” Lisa asked.

  “Somebody you do business with who stays somewhere else.”

  “Dinner is ready, honey,” Martin said in an attempt to break the icy conversation.

  “Who cooked?” Stella asked, diverting her attention to Trianna and Joseph.

  “Dad!” Joseph said, pointing accusingly at Martin.

  “What are we eating?” Stella asked.

  “Spaghetti and meatballs,” Martin replied.

  “Yummy, let’s eat. I’m starved.” Moving her luggage to the stairway, Stella sat down at the dining table.

  Dinner had a routine at the Montgomery family. Stella would ask the kids about school. Trianna would be happy to tell all about Mrs. Parker, the mean English teacher, who delighted in giving them daily homework. Lisa, on the other hand, usually remained quiet at the dinner table, answering questions sparingly, only when asked.

  Ever since Tom’s death, Lisa had not been the same. Tom and Lisa were buddies. Separated only by twelve months, they looked like twins, especially when they were playing.

  I think Lisa must still be in mourning or is hiding something, and besides, what’s up with that diary, anyway? Martin, always suspicious, wondered. Lisa is only eight years old, and since when do eight-year-olds keep secret diaries?

  * * *

  After dinner, Lisa went quietly to her room. She had been given her own room after Tom’s death.

  Two years ago, Tom, the oldest son, died an unexplained natural death. What surprised Lisa the most was that Mom and Dad insisted on not burying Tom. They sent his body to this crematorium in Oak Lawn, Illinois, for cremation. Now they had another white crystal jar in the living room with Tom’s ashes in them.

  Why would Mom and Dad keep ashes of dead people in the house?

  Lisa suspected that something was not right, especially before Chris died.

  Chris had had a fever, was coughing, and was not feeling well. Mom had refused to take Chris to see the doctor, explaining that she had taken Chris to the doctor many times before with the same complaint and all she ever got was Tylenol and cough medicine.

  The night Chris died was strange to Lisa. She had gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and heard some commotion coming out of Chris’s room.

  Lisa decided to investigate to be sure Chris was all right. She slowly pushed open the door, after quietly turning the knob so as not to wake Chris in case she was asleep.

  What she saw had been on Lisa’s mind since that day, three years ago.

  Dad appeared to be holding a pillow over Chris’s face. Just then, Stella saw Lisa. She quickly came to the door and escorted Lisa out of the room.

  Stella looked frightened when she saw Lisa. Closing the door behind her, she led Lisa back to her room.

  “What’s wrong with Chris?” Lisa asked.

  “She’s not feeling well, and Dad was checking her out,” Stella replied, taking a deep breath.

  “Will you take her to the doctor, Mom?”

  “Yeah, first thing in the morning.”

  Lisa was satisfied; Mom tucked her in bed after a visit to the bathroom.

  Lisa was happy. She wanted her older sister to get well so they could go to the Creek Side and watch the boys play. The boys always acted silly, but were fun to watch.

  “Why was Dad holding down the pillow over Chris’s face?” Lisa asked, out of curiosity and fear.

  “No, honey, Dad was removing the pillow from Chris’s face, because Chris has a habit of sleeping with the pillow on her face, and Dad was making sure she was not suffocating herself,” Stella answered.

  Chris’s death was ruled an accident by the county coroner. The explanation, though plausible, still weighed heavily on Lisa’s mind.

  Lisa, although she was only eight years old, considered herself the brightest kid in her class. She had been acknowledged for her analytical mind. She was the one other kids came to for advice when they were having problems; Lisa somehow always managed to come up with workable solutions.

  Being a popular girl at school, Lisa tried so hard not to be analytical at home, usually taking things at face value, especially from Mom and Dad. But Mom’s explanation about the pillow incident was very unsettling for Lisa, and she made many entries about that in her secret diary.

  * * *

  “I’m really worried about Lisa,” Martin said from the bathroom, while changing into his pajamas.

  “She’s okay … she’s just a very smart kid, and smart kids tend to be less playful,” Stella answered.

  “Well, how come she’s never been sick?” Martin asked. “That I don’t know, because with Tom, he had severe allergies. Shawn had the … I think they called it ‘gastroenteritis,’ but he was vomiting and was very dehydrated. Yeah, with Shawn you didn’t have to press the pillow hard at all for him to stop breathing.”

  “I know Chris was a hard one. She tried to struggle and choked; my, oh my, I thought she would never die.”

  “You know, I believe it was the noise that either woke Lisa up or made her open the door.”

  “I told you to always lock the doors behind you.”

  “I simply forgot that night.”

  “I still think Lisa saw something,” Martin said.

  “Even if she did, I explained to her that you were removing the pillow off Chris’s face,” Stella said.

  “Did she buy that?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she did.”

  “Hmm … by the way, how much money did they pay for Tom again?”

  “It was two hundred and fifty thousand in cash, plus a percentage of whatever they sell each
organ for.”

  “So, we made almost a quarter million with Chris and nearly as much with Shawn,” Martin said. “Actually, Dr. Shah said next time we might cash in more than three quarters of a million dollars. Do you believe that?” Stella picked up a copy of Money magazine, nodded her head three times, and climbed into bed.

  “That’s great, but why is that?”

  “He explained that there’s a bidding war from five millionaires for one kidney, another for the liver, and I forgot what the rest are, but when they’re sold we might net seven hundred and fifty thousand plus.”

  “I’m confident the next one will fetch us over one million.” Martin tightened his pajamas.

  “I pray. Then we will be the millionaire next door, just like in Money magazine.”

  “You know, sometimes I wonder how they legally sell these organs without state or federal detection.”

  “These guys are geniuses,” Stella said. “I don’t know the exact details, but somehow they do.”

  “That’s amazing,” Martin noted, letting out a sneeze.

  “Bless you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Quite a few centers, like the prestigious Lake Shore University in downtown Chicago, do escape federal audits, and they are one of the best and most frequent clients of the scientific research facility. This is a multimillion- approaching billion-dollar operation.”

  Stella shook her head in puzzlement at the amount.

  “I’m happy we are getting some of that money,” Martin said.

  “I am also.”

  “I’m still worried about Lisa.”

  “Why?” Stella asked.

  “Being smart and all, never sick, she could fetch us well over one million; then we’ll have only two kids left, like we originally planned.”

  “Be careful; let’s not be greedy, hasty, or irrational, so says Dr. Shah. Yeah, she is smart and all and she keeps that diary. Who knows what’s in it?” Stella said.

  “I’ve made several attempts to steal it. Even the other kids can’t get to it, let alone find it. I’m really tempted to force it out of her.”

  “No … no, I don’t think we need to go that far,” Stella said.

  * * *

  Lisa could not sleep well that night.

  “Mom came back from Chicago looking all excited, even though she got stuck in a snowstorm in Chicago,” Lisa wrote.

  She did not understand why Mom took trips to Chicago soon after Shawn’s and Chris’s deaths. What is this place in Oak Lawn, Illinois, and what do they actually do there? Do they have anything to do with Tom’s, Shawn’s, and Chris’s cremations?

  Lisa was acutely aware that the entire family wanted a peek at her diary, a secret she had kept since age four, protecting the diary by sometimes even hiding it in her underwear while she slept.

  Lisa also had figured out that whenever one of them got sick for more than two to three days, that was when they invariably died, usually in their sleep.

  Lisa knew this girl; they said she had a blood cancer, but she died in a hospital.

  Lisa made a vow that she would never be sick, because if she ever got sick, she would not live. She worried about Trianna, who had been coughing lately.

  Mom took her to the doctor twice, and the doctor said both times that she had a cold. She seemed to be getting better, though.

  “Dear diary”—Lisa resumed her writing with the doors locked—“Mom came back today from Chicago, happy. She showed Dad a piece of paper that looked like a check, and Dad yelled ‘Yes!’

  “When I asked what it was, they both said it was nothing, except that Mom got some donation for her company from the research center in Chicago.

  “I wonder how much it was, for Daddy to be that happy. Trianna has been sick lately, I wonder if she is going to die also.

  “Kim, at school, said that I should tell Mom and Dad what I’m thinking, but I’m afraid to tell them. I also made Kim swear on her granny’s picture never to tell anyone, and she did.

  “Next time when any of us gets sick, I will have to figure out a way to see or hear what my parents plan to do.”

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Lisa noticed that Trianna started coughing again. This time, she had a runny nose that clogged her up at night, making her mouth-breathe all night long. She had been waking up with a sore throat, but somehow managed to feel better as the day went by.

  Lisa, who had been watching Trianna closely, documented her everyday symptoms, at least hoping that Mom would take her to the hospital.

  If she dies there, Lisa thought, she will die in a hospital under the care of doctors and nurses.

  2

  LATE AFTERNOON THURSDAY, THE weather became unseasonably cold in Savannah, Georgia. It is quite an unusual temperature for March around here, thought Lisa.

  It had rained all day. The sun had not been heard from or seen for almost twenty-four hours. The wind was blowing aimlessly, and water was everywhere. The temperature dipped to an all-time low of almost thirty-three degrees.

  A lot of children did not attend school because of the cold weather, preferring instead to stay home sick. Lisa made sure she bundled herself up for school. She took some Theraflu cold tablets that morning, without her mother’s permission, to guarantee she would not get sick.

  She was a little sleepy at school, but she was determined to remain alert.

  Recently, she had become increasingly suspicious that something would happen in the next coming days.

  Arriving home from school, in her usual quiet mood, Lisa declined supper. She alleged that she did not feel well, maybe from overeating at school. Joseph, sitting at the dining table, was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

  “I don’t know about that girl,” Martin said, as Lisa headed to her room to change.

  “Don’t worry about her; she’s being her usual self,” Stella said.

  “Should we then go ahead with Trianna tonight?” Martin asked, eyebrows raised.

  “I don’t see why not,” Stella replied. “I’ll check on Lisa early, prior to joining you, to make sure she’s asleep.”

  “When you come in this time, make sure you lock the door.”

  “I will, I will.”

  Four hours later, after watching some prime-time network shows, Lisa asked permission to retire early.

  “Are you okay?” Martin asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

  “Just minor stomach cramps,” Lisa replied, making a sick face. “I’ll be fine in the morning.”

  “Do you want me to come and tuck you in to bed?” Stella asked with a broad smile on her face.

  “No, Mom.” Lisa smiled back. “I’m going to check on Trianna and see how she is doing, and then I’m going to bed.”

  “Don’t you have any homework today?” Stella continued, attempting to loosen Lisa up.

  “Nope,” Lisa said, shaking her head. “Too many kids were sick, so they decided not to give any homework.”

  “Okay, sweetheart,” Stella said absentmindedly, watching television with Martin.

  Lisa climbed upstairs and headed to Trianna’s room. At the top of the stairs, she turned to take a second look at Mom and Dad, who both appeared engrossed in the television.

  Stella, aware that Lisa was watching them, uttered: “Good night,” without turning her head.

  “Night,” Lisa whispered back, then proceeded to Trianna’s room.

  Trianna was asleep, but as soon as Lisa entered, she woke up and coughed two or three times.

  “Hi, Te-Te.” Lisa smiled broadly.

  “I don’t feel too good,” Trianna said, rubbing her nose.

  “I know. You’ll be okay. Mom is supposed to take you to the hospital tomorrow,” Lisa said with concern. “The doctors will make you well.”

  “I hope so,” Trianna said through another cough.

  Then Lisa listened intently to be sure she did not hear any footsteps. “I’m going to put this machine under your bed to protect you,” Lisa whispered,
slipping a miniaturized tape recorder with a twelve-hour tape under the bed. “They said that if that stays under your bed all night, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Lisa,” Trianna said, repositioning her head on the pillow while letting out yet another cough.

  “I’ll let you get some sleep.” Lisa pulled the cover closer to Trianna’s chest. “Good night.”

  At about ten forty-five, Lisa remained awake in awkward anticipation.

  What if my plan fails?

  What if Mom and Dad decided not to do anything tonight?

  What if Mom finds the tape recorder?

  She realized she should not have told Trianna about the tape recorder in case she blurted it to Mom. Too late now.

  Lisa decided to get up before six in the morning to retrieve the tape recorder so nobody else would discover it accidentally.

  “Lisa … Lisa?” A gentle knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

  “Come in,” Lisa said in a fake sleepy voice. Rubbing her eyes dramatically, Lisa feigned a yawn.

  “I’m just checking on you before we go to bed.”

  “I’m okay, Mom. I feel a lot better already.”

  Lisa did not want to give any indication or excuse for her parents to come after her. She had already figured out a plan to scream as loud as she could if Dad came after her with a pillow. A week after Chris’s death, Lisa had started leaving the east end window ajar every night to be sure that the next door neighbors could hear her scream.

  Sometimes, Lisa thought she was getting a little paranoid, but she always convinced herself that she did not want to be the next victim.

  At exactly 3:33 A.M., something woke Lisa up. She looked around the room, frightened, but there was no one there.

  Did the alarm go off accidentally?

  Lisa sat up in bed. It was still raining outside; Lisa could hear the raindrops through the east end window. The chilly room sent shivers through Lisa’s bones. She got up and put her jeans and her school blazer on over her nightgown. She took her diary from under the pillow, tucked it in her blazer pocket, and set out to check on Trianna.

  She picked up her cell phone like she usually did on her way to school.

  Arriving at Trianna’s room, Lisa noticed dim lights emanating under the door.