John Lyman - House of Acerbi

“I have more than fire … I have the truth. Following the words of an evil entity like Rex Mundi will only lead you to ruin! You must come out of the darkness and into the light, my son. I will help you.”

“The old yin and yang speech, Father? Good versus evil? A god of light and a god of darkness? Do you really believe your god of light is any more powerful than Rex Mundi? Because if you do, I have news for you, Father. The light is quickly fading, and Rex Mundi will soon control it all.”

“He only controls that which is base and material. Surely you must see that your thinking is flawed. There is another force in the universe … a force of light that we call love, and nothing is more powerful.”

“That force did little for our ancestors, and it’s done even less for me and obviously even less for you. Rex Mundi rules the here and now … the material world, for that’s all we have and that’s all we will ever have. He makes no promises for a golden afterlife, so we must make of this one all that we can.”

The elder Acerbi stared back at his son, his breathing labored by the intensity of their meeting. It was now obvious to him that his son had made his choice. Maybe it was his fault … maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the choice had been made for Rene before he was even born … who knew, but whatever the cause, Eduardo had been hit with the final, terrible realization that he would never steer his son away from the terrible path he had chosen. He had failed as a father-and it was now his duty to correct that mistake.

“At least let me have the satisfaction of giving you something to eat while you are here. Have a croissant … they’re delicious.”

“You’re quite the host, Father. Maybe you’d like a job working for me at my chateau.”

The old man’s shoulders where hunched more than usual as he watched Rene reach into the box and lift out a croissant.

“In answer to your original question, my time here on this earth is growing short, my son. That is why I have revealed myself to you, as you put it. I was hoping that there was some way I could get through to you, because what you’re doing is wrong. You have the potential to be so much more. It’s not too late my son. Throw off the shackles of hate and let the light shine through. Just think of how you could …”

Rene burst into laughter. “Really, Father? Parental advice?”

The old man’s aged body seemed to wilt from sadness as he turned his head and stared out the window. The dark shadows across the road were coming closer.

“You’re right, Father, these croissants are delicious. Who makes them for you?”

Eduardo squeezed his eyes shut to block the tears before he turned back to face his son. “I made them myself. Collette taught me how to make them after we were married.”

“Colette! My nanny? You married my nanny?”

“Why yes … why do you seem so surprised?”

“You’re even more pathetic than I first thought. You walked away from a financial empire and deserted your family to marry a nanny?”

“A nanny who was like a mother to you.” The fire had returned to Eduardo’s eyes. “I left for reasons of faith and to protect you and your mother from those who would have sought to destroy you if they had known I was still alive, but that means little to someone like you. I can see that now.”

“Please, Father, spare me the I did it all for you speech.”

The old man fixed his son with a blank look one gives an unwelcome stranger as he shook out a dusty napkin and placed it on his lap.

Rene coughed as the fine dust entered his nostrils and settled over the table. “You might want to think about hiring a housekeeper to do some cleaning around here.” Rene glanced around the room at all the shelves of books with a look of disgust.

“You know, Father, people who once knew you have told me that you were one of the smartest men who ever lived. Now, here you sit, surrounded by all of this knowledge, making tea and staring out a window. What a waste.”

Rene threw the uneaten half of his croissant on the plate and stood. “I believe our little meeting here is at an end. I’ve seen all I need to see, and it sickens me.” He paused for a moment as he looked down at his father. “Aren’t you the least curious why I agreed to come?”

Eduardo glanced up without answering.

“I only came here because I thought it was possible you might still be some kind of a threat. What a joke. You had quite a reputation for cunning in your day, but I can see now that a creature as pathetic as you is no threat to anyone, much less someone like me.”

Eduardo stood and extended a frail hand. “Good bye, son. May God watch over you for the rest of your days.”

A look of surprise crossed Rene’s face as he glanced down at his father’s tremulous outstretched hand and laughed. “Good bye, old man. Enjoy the so-called light you so desperately seek, because the only light you will see upon your death is the light of fire as you burn in hell with the rest of your kind.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in the afterlife, my son.”

“You misunderstood. I said I didn’t believe in heaven, Father.”

With those final words, Rene turned and walked down the stairs and out of his father’s house.

Outside, a security man held the door of the SUV as Acerbi settled into the back seat. “Should we take care of him now, sir?”

“No. It’s obvious the old man is dying. There will be fewer questions if we let nature take its course.”

“Of course.” The security man closed the door and waved to the others to return to their vehicles.

Alone now in his upstairs library, Eduardo Acerbi stood at the window and watched the line of black SUVs pull out onto the highway before driving away through the long shadows that had finally covered the road. Slowly, he walked back across the room and lifted the box of croissants from the table before throwing them in a red trash bag concealed inside a special container behind the kitchen counter. When he was done, he picked up the phone and dialed a number. He waited. Within seconds of the call, blue flashing lights surrounded his house as dozens of vehicles carrying men in blue biohazard suits descended on the area from every direction and began to swarm over the property.

Eduardo Acerbi was now sitting in the middle of a hot zone-one he himself had just created. The so-called dust he had shaken from his napkin into his son’s face had held enough viral material to infect thousands. He sat back and listened to the heavy footsteps of the men in blue suits running up the stairs, but he had no fear of the deadly virus that was now dancing on the currents of air all around him, for unlike Rene, the old man had not eaten one of the croissants made from his son’s genetically altered wheat.

Three days after the meeting with his father in the village of Foix, Rene Acerbi had gone to bed early with a cold. In the middle of the night, he had awakened with a throbbing headache and a high fever.

Damn! What a time to get sick. He had an appointment in the morning, one that was too important to reschedule. Struggling from his bed, he could feel his sweat-soaked pajamas sticking to his body, and by the time he had reached the bathroom, he was doubled over with fits of coughing so violent that they made his ribs hurt.

Turning on the light, he looked in the mirror and jumped back. His face was covered in blotchy, purplish-red patches. Pulling up the sleeves of his pajamas, he saw that his arms were also covered with the same reddish blotches. A sudden shiver made him grit his teeth as he grabbed the bathroom counter to brace himself against another round of coughing that caused spots to drift before his eyes. No-it couldn’t be-could it? The stockpiles of the pathogen had been safely locked away, and he had taken every precaution to avoid contamination in the lab, yet the symptoms were all there-the purple splotches were a hallmark of the virus. What else could it be?