Blind Dragon

By Edward Thames

Max Carter is on a roll. He has an awaking best seller and a brand new contract for three more books. Who would have thought a book debunking the vampire myth would actually sell? Who was he to question good fortune? For the first time in thirty-six years it seems as if he had a life. He finally had the home and family denied him as a child.His wife, Renee, is a raven-haired stunner and brilliant systems analyst but the love of his life is a beautiful, unusually gifted, seven-year old daughter named Lizzy.
Lizzy was a prodigy. A petite little girl with thick, black hair which, like her father’s curled of its own free will. Lizzy had broken all the academic records in her school and had scored off the charts on the various IQ tests. Lizzy was gifted in many ways. It was as if she had a built in early warning system. She knew things but her true talent lay in music. By the age of 4 she had mastered the violin and by six the piano. They had been pressured to put her in Julliard but had decided to have her tutored instead. So after much searching they had found Beth Carlow.Beth had been a prodigy herself and had performed in Carnegie Hall on several occasions. She had been destined for greatness until the arthritis had attacked her hands. Now playing was far too painful but the love of music and the genius she had manifested were channeled into working with Lizzy.Then out of the blue a Dr. Fastow calls and asks him to come in to discuss an abnormality in his blood. The meeting with Dr. Fastow borders on the insane as he tells Max that his blood shows evidence of an extra chromosome pair called the Melchizedek Gene. Max wants nothing to do with Fastow or participating in Fastow’s research. As Max is leaving Fastow warns,” We haven’t much time. There are others that are looking for you as well and I am afraid their intentions are not as scientific as my own.”All was well with the Carter family until Max receives a threatening note with his mail. The script was unusual. It resembled an ancient calligraphy but different. The ink was dark brown and seemed thicker than normal, almost like wax. Having suffered a similar situation Max called in Detective Quarrels. The first experience had been a nightmare but there was a positive side.Max and Quarrels had become friends.Quarrels was a straight-up guy and Max trusted him explicitly.
Max receives a call from Quarrels. The forensics from the note indicates the odd looking ink was in fact human blood. Quarrels also informs Max that there have been three gruesome murders in which the heads were physically torn from the torso. Quarrels sends out a patrol car to keep watch.Kim Baros, Max’s research assistant meets Dr. Nicoli Themas, an ancient and mysterious academic, while riding the train. As if in a moment of clarity, Kim sets up an impromptu meeting between Max and Dr. Themas to discuss the differences they have regarding vampire lore. The meeting goes badly as Dr. Themas warns Max. ”Evil is coming. It is coming for you. I implore you to leave this place. Send your family to another place far from you. Never go near them again.” Max asks him to leave.Beth has a visit from Dr. Marcus Cain. A RA Specialist who claims to have a cure for her pain drenched hands. Dr. Cain cures hers RA as he turns her into a vampire.Beth slaughters Renee as Dr. Cain takes Lizzy hostage in a cruel game of kill me if you can. Challenged to a Shibboleth; a contest of wills. He must find and destroy the Dr. Cain to save his daughters' life and his own immortal soul. Time is running out for Max. He must not only elude the police, who have implicated him in his wife's murder, but struggle with his own transformation into a vampire.Max is aided by his assistant, Kim, and Dr. Nicoli Themas. As he struggles to save Lizzy and his own humanity, little does he realize there are much darker forces at play?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward Thames
• Release date: Apr 12, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452349206

Edward Thames

Edward was born in Plaquemine Parish, Louisiana. He grew up moving from place to place never living in the same location more than two years. He attended various Universities majoring in Pre-Med, creative writing, film making and foreign languages. After winning several writing awards he discovered Information Technology and achieved thirty-four separate technical certifications. He has worked as a contract technical trainer for the last ten years. He has written seven screenplays and five novels. He presently lives in Spring, Texas.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Kristen Lord was worried as she gracefully strode across the bustling intersection. No one who saw her at that moment would have guessed that Kristen would have any worries.

Kristen was tall like her father with a sleek athletic build, maintained by a strict regime of jogging and Aikido classes. As she walked her shoulder length blond hair flowed in the in the wind; shimmering gold, thick and soft like corn silk. Her eyes were golden brown with flecks of bright gold that seemed to sparkle when she laughed and flared red when angered. She was stunningly beautiful but not in the conventional fashion. She looked like the girl next door until you really saw her and then the magnitude of her uniqueness would creep into your awareness until you realized you were in the presence of a truly beautiful woman.

The light in the intersection changed and the flow of humanity halted as the traffic began to move. Kristen stared straight ahead as she waited on the light. She mentally reviewed her dilemma. In two weeks she was getting married. Everything was perfect. Alex, her fiancé was the picture of Mr. Perfect. Damn good-looking and filthy rich. And to top it all off, a wonderful lover.

Life was shaping up to be the Cinderella story all girls dream of except Kristen was beginning to realize that she was not sure she really loved Alex. Lately, little things had begun to irritate her. His little rituals of life as he called them, normal functions of daily life he had structurally optimized for maximum efficiency and dedicated precision. Little things like brushing his teeth. He would perform the exact same ritual: twenty-nine vertical strokes on both sides and the front followed by eighteen horizontal strokes on both sides upper and lower. She knew because he counted each stroke out in a series of unintelligible grunts. She found herself on more than one occasion stopping whatever she was doing and listening as he counted, secretly hoping he miss a stroke or at least deviate somehow. He never had.

Kristen realized that there were moments when she actually wanted to walk away and never see him again. Something she felt she could easily do. That in point of fact was the problem. How could you walk away from someone you love and not look back? Something was definitely wrong.

The light changed and the mass of humanity moved into the intersection carrying Kristen along in its flow. The streetlights came on as the shadows of the evening began to creep up the sides of the buildings and the canyons of the city grew dark. The crowd around Kristen had thinned as she made her way toward the parking lot. Still immersed in the whirlpool of her mind Kristen never saw the black shape moving toward her.

A moment later the cold engulfed her. Her primordial instincts heightened, like an animal that senses a predator is near. Something had invaded her ma’ai; the circle of awareness that all Aikidoka are trained to utilize. A sense of distance surrounding the body that allows the Aikidoka to physically react to any breach of the circle before the conscious mind is even aware of the danger. Kristen’s training took over as she involuntarily turned to face the danger.

The last thing Kristen would ever see were red glowing reptilian eyes as an unimaginable force snatched her from this world. The sheer and sudden violence stunned her senses. The last sensation Kristen would ever experience was the awfulness humans feel as they are consumed by another creature while still alive. Kristen was gone.

The entire attack took less than a second. Those about her saw nothing. The crowd continued to move up the street as the darkness leisurely became night. The world moved on unaware, for the moment.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 2

Max Carter’s stomach instinctively tightened at the sound of the Avon chime when he opened the waiting room door. He closed his blue-gray eyes, paused for a quick moment, then stepped inside. The sharp stench of antiseptic enveloped him like a noxious cloud as the door whispered closed behind him.

Dark memories of his days in the orphanage began to slither out of the forgotten crevices of his mind. Shot day, the torturous standing in line while the screams and cries of those ahead echoed in the cavernous hallway. County nurses in their crisp white uniforms, with cold precision, mechanically stabbing each child in the arm with gigantic dripping needles. Coaches designated as proctors walking up and down the line ready to grab any child who tried to run and escort them to front of the line.

Max had run once. The proctors had chased him up and down the hallways until Max finally escaped into the street. Three blocks from the orphanage Max realized there was no place for him to go. The proctors caught him standing on the street corner. They promptly escorted him back to the orphanage and the front of the line. Max received shots in both his arms. He never ran again.

Max could feel the cold fingers of dread creeping up his spine as his palms began to sweat profusely. He assumed that all those memories had faded into oblivion as time passed. After all he was thirty-five years old. The old adage, time heals all wounds, popped into his mind. He knew better. All it took was a smell and it all came crashing back with a jolting reality.

He hated Elaine Maxtor, his publisher, at that moment and vowed to find another as soon as his contract was concluded. The physical had been bad enough but Elaine said it was all part of the business. No publisher would sign a three-book deal with any writer without some reassurance that the writer was healthy and physically able to fulfill the contract. Reluctantly, Max had agreed. For half a million dollars Max would have agreed with almost anything. Then this guy named Fastow calls. Tells him something’s wrong with his blood. Nothing serious but unusual and he needs to come down so they can discuss it.

Max opened his eyes, instinctively ran his hands through his thick black hair, and forced himself to focus. The waiting room was empty. The chrome coffee table was heaped in dog-eared, out of date magazines and old newspapers. The cheap, tan, vinyl sofas still had the crinkled imprints of the butts that had obviously spent a great deal of time waiting.

Max was puzzled but relieved. He had expected it to be overflowing with sick people, coughing, sneezing and suffering while they waited for their turn to see the doctor. He glanced at his watch, six o’clock on the nose. He walked over to the receptionist window, leaned down and looked in. The cubical was empty and the lights in the rear of the office seemed to be off. Maybe it was all a mistake. Max decided he had enough. To hell with Fastow, Elaine, the smell, the whole bit. He walked over to the door and reached for the door handle when he heard the interior door of the office open. Startled, Max quickly turned as a huge man with close cropped white hair stepped into the waiting room.

The man was at least six feet six inches tall with shoulders as broad as the doorway. He was wearing a white lab coat which seemed to be several sizes to small. The sleeves were drawn tightly over his thickly muscled arms. Max’s first impression, that the giant was an older man, was quickly dispelled as he noticed the smooth pale skin and the translucent blue white eyes. He realized the white hair was not because of age but that the giant was an albino.

Mr. Carter? Asked the pale giant.

Yes. Replied Max.

The giant stepped forward and extended a massive hand. Dr. Albert Fastow. I'm glad you could make it.

Max reached out and shook Fastow's hand. Max watched as his hand disappeared into the bear like paw. Max thought to himself it was like shaking hands with someone wearing a steel catcher's mitt.

I thought everyone had gone.

They have Mr. Carter. I thought it would be better if we had our discussion without the distractions of the staff and the constant flow of patients.

Good, what is this all about?

Please have a seat. Said Fastow as he motioned toward the couch. We can speak freely here.

Max walked over to the closest couch and sat down. Fastow waited until Max was seated then gracefully stepped over the coffee table and sat down on the arm of the other couch.

Max waited until Fastow was seated then said, Speak freely.

Fastow smiled broadly the said, First thing I’d like to say is that this involves nothing life threatening nor anything that would require medical attention.

Then why are we meeting?

Mr. Carter we are required to run a DNA scan on all high premium insurance physicals. Insurance companies routinely use it to screen genetic undesirables, such as those with a genetic predisposition to heart failure, or certain types of cancer.

Are you kidding me? I think that would not only be unethical but illegal.

Fastow leaned forward and quietly replied, Its borderline in both cases but virtually impossible to prove, never the less that is beside the point. The point is I ran the DNA workup on your blood as a matter of course and in the process of evaluation I found that your blood possesses an astounding characteristic.

Like what? Asked Max.

Fastow leaned forward, I am sure you’re familiar with the Human Genome Project.

What has the Human Genome Project got to do with me? Max shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. He didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking and he was beginning to dislike Fastow. The man had an eerie intensity about him that reminded Max of old black and white films he had seen of Hitler’s Brown Shirts. Thousands of young boys dressed in Brown Shirts standing in rapt attention before Hitler as he gave one of his powerful speeches. Max remembered their eyes glazed with a maniacal fervor that bordered on insanity. Max glanced at his watch.

Fastow noticed the shift and the change in Max’s body language.

DNA in the human genome is arranged into 46 distinct chromosomes--physically separate molecules. Mr. Carter your DNA scan indicated you have 47 chromosomes. The scan I performed was merely a cursory comparison that does nothing to belittle the facts. Mr. Carter you are a unique entity to say the least.

Let me get this straight. You called me down here to tell me you found an extra chromosome in my DNA while you were performing a DNA workup, which by the way I didn’t authorize.

I told you it was standard procedure.

Max stood up. Look Doc, you said this unusual characteristic in my DNA was nothing life threatening nor anything that would require medical attention.

Correct. Replied Fastow as he shifted uneasily on the couch."

Max looked at Fastow and said, I don’t really care about this extra chromosome. I appreciate your concern and your interest. Let’s leave it at that. Okay. Max turned and walked to the door as Fastow stood up.

Fair enough but one thing before you leave.

Max paused as he reached the door. He knew it was coming; the zinger. Like a used car salesman’s one last lowball price. Max grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. The Avon chime rang. A chill raced up his spine. Max paused, turned to face Fastow and asked, What?

How many people do you think science has even suspected of having a similar DNA structure to yours?

I don't know? Maybe Jimmy Hendricks?

Fastow smiled and said, No one. Mr. Carter, for all intents and purposes you are not technically human. You are more than human.

Max stared at Fastow for a moment in disbelief. Then he smiled and said, One test and you have extrapolated all this?

I appreciate your skepticism. But with many of today’s techniques we can hypothesize and I assure you we are very accurate.

Max let the door handle go. The door quietly closed. Max stood staring at Fastow for a moment. For the sake of argument, let’s say I have this special blood. What exactly do you want from me?

Your blood, Mr. Carter.

That’s a relief. I thought you wanted money.

Fastow laughed. No, just your blood, that’s all.

And what do you purpose to do with my blood?

Fastow grew serious and said, Run a series of test to confirm what I already know.

Then what?

I honestly don’t know but if I am right this discovery could change the face of mankind forever. Fastow could see the tension rising as Max unconsciously squared his shoulders and centered his six foot two inch frame, like an animal preparing for a fight.

Mr. Carter, I understand how much of a shock this must be, hence the after hours appointment. I also don’t expect the significance of this to sink in until you have had some time to think about it. I merely wanted to meet you and discuss what I found. That’s all.

Max leaned back against the wall and looked at the ceiling. This chromosome you found, does it have a name?

We have long known the aging process is partly predicated on the lifespan of our cells; as long as they continue dividing, we remain young. Structures in our cells called telomeres control cell division. Telomeres are controlled by an enzyme called telomerase which controls the entire process. We know the immortalized cells functionality can be extended but we don’t know how. Several years ago as the computer models became more sophisticated we learned we could manipulate the DNA structure by adding or subtracting components of chromosomes associated with different levels of functionality. We discovered that no matter how we reconstructed the DNA we still lacked a master gene, a trigger to start and control the process. We began to manufacture our own theoretically. The theory works perfectly but in reality we failed miserably.

I really don’t care about all that.

Fastow smiled, "Of course, I apologize. Needless to say we had to have a name for the theoretical master gene. Initially we used the generic term, immortalized cells. Now we called it the Melchizedek Gene.

Melchizedek?

Genesis 14 verse 18, Abraham returned from the slaughter of the Kings and met Melchizedek, King of Salem.

Max looked at Fastow and said, I don’t get the connection?

"Satan, Adam, Eve and Lilith were motherless, being direct creations of God alone. God himself is both fatherless and motherless, being uncreated. All the rest of creation has both a father and a mother except for Melchizedek. He has no genealogy and no beginning or end of life. It is said that Melchizedek has lived and continues to live forever.

What you are really saying is that my extra chromosome could be the master gene.

Yes.

So, what does that make me?

A uniquely precise copy of what I believe is the next evolutionary step for mankind. Mr. Carter you are not human, as defined by science. You are more than human. You possess something not seen in mankind in hundreds of thousands of years, if ever. You may well be the key to unlocking the past as well as deciding the future of the human race. You alone may possess the key to immortality.

Max looked at Fastow in disbelief. He had definitely had enough of this. I think I need to go.

Fastow stood up. I understand completely. Fastow reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card and handed it to Max. Here are my numbers if you need to reach me or have any questions. Call anytime. Day or night.

Max took the card and quickly stuffed it into his shirt pocket. Max reached for the door handle and pulled it open. The fresh air poured in as Avon chimed again. Max was about to walk out when Fastow asked, "What about the blood?

Max paused for a moment and said, I’ll let you know? By the way who else knows about all of this?

No one.

Max knew Fastow was lying.

Good. Let’s keep it that way. Agreed?

Agreed. Replied Fastow. Fastow watched Max closely as he added, You do realize that we will not be able to keep this a secret forever?

Max understood with that remark that Fastow had already passed his findings along to somebody; probably somebody of consequence. Max stared hard at Fastow. Keep what a secret? My God man, do realize how all this sounds? Tell you what, I won’t tell if you don’t. But if you do decide to make a call to CNN and give them a scoop I will make sure that whatever happens you will not be involved in any way shape or form. Are we clear?

Mr. Carter please, I was merely noting that such a momentous revelation will inevitably come to light. It’s destiny. Prophesy fulfilled.

Right! What prophesy?

The revelation of the Bearer of the Blood of Resurrection.

Wow! You just make that up. I’m telling you, you missed your calling. Prophesy and destiny aside you just make sure you aren’t the one to flip the light switch.

I understand you are an orphan.

You certainly seem to know a lot about me from a cursory DNA scan. Remarked Max.

"Do you know anything about your natural parents?’

Max looked hard a Dr. Fastow and said, No. Do you?

No, but I may be able to help you find out. Baited Dr. Fastow.

No thanks. Contrary to all the movies on Lifetime I really don’t care. Never have. Replied Max.

You have a daughter.

Don’t push your luck. Answered Max as his long standing good nature began to fade.

I was merely noting that she will need to be tested as well.

This discussion is over! Max quickly stepped through the door and took a deep breath of fresh air. He stood for a moment. Breathing deeply he tried to rid himself of the nauseating residue of the antiseptic air and the dreadful memories it had awakened. He glanced briefly at the door then briskly walked down the hall.

Max felt a gnawing fear growing in his stomach as Fastow’s revelation echoed in his mind. Max could smell bullshit a mile away but there was something about Fastow and the look in his eyes that forced Max to consider the possibility that Fastow was telling the truth. If it was true then what?

Did this make him some kind of holy man? He certainly didn’t feel holy. If his blood was genetically so unique that would mean either his father or mother had the same DNA. Fat lot of good that did, Max knew nothing about his parents and had never really thought too much about it until today.

He recalled the stories he had heard as a child about how he was found on the steps of a decaying rooming house in the Heights by a black woman named Sara Willis. The Heights was once an aristocratic and opulent section of Houston that had fallen upon dark days. The rows of stylish Victorian homes had been converted into rooming houses for poor families and the waves of illegal immigrants from Mexico flooding Texas in search of a better life.

When Max turned eighteen and left the orphanage he tried to find Sara Willis but discovered she had passed on. He did find her daughter, Yolanda. She still lived in the same house.

She told him the story of how Sara had found him, as he lay wrapped in a dirty sheet by her front gate. How she saved him from the biggest, meanest rat she had ever seen. She said the monster had the devil’s eyes, as red as blood. He stood up on his hind legs and hissed at Sara when she tried to pick Max up. Sara promptly went back in her house and got her broom. No rat, no matter how big was going to hurt a child while Sara was around. She said when she came back the rat was gone. Lucky thing, if the broom hadn’t worked Sara had a 32 caliber derringer in her apron pocket. Times were tough back then.

After saving him from the giant rat she had promptly called the authorities. While she was waiting she had decided that every child needed a name. She had all but decided to name him Moses because of how she had found him but then she spied a blue can lying near a trash pile on the street with the name Maxwell House Coffee printed boldly on the side. Sara Willis decided at that moment that Maxwell would be his name. She truthfully figured they'd change it later but as fate would have it the name stuck. Yolanda said Sara had told that story to everyone she knew for the rest of her life.

Max was grateful that Sara had chosen Maxwell instead of Moses. There was something odd about being named Moses unless of course you were a professional athlete.

Max walked quickly across the parking lot toward his gray Explorer. Max unlocked the door, climbed in, and sat for a moment. He decided at that moment there was no way he was going to get involved with Fastow and his research. He realized that if this ever got out