Future Beyond

By Natalie Buske Thomas

Time travel detective Serena Wilcox investigates corrupt governments of the past, present and future with her heroic crew. Geek candy, dry humor, and plot-twisting suspense await those who join Serena on her latest adventure. What began in Project Scarecrow continues in Ruby Red and comes to a thrilling conclusion in Future Beyond. Historical references include the Cuban Missile Crisis, Marilyn Monroe and John Glenn's orbit. What the future contains, you'll have to discover for yourself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Natalie Buske Thomas
• Release date: Mar 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311045652

Natalie Buske Thomas

Natalie Buske Thomas is the author of the Serena Wilcox Mysteries, the Dramatic Mom comic stories, Savannah's Inky Imagination and the Thriving in a Hateful World series. She is also an oil painter and entertainer. Her paintings have been in exhibits, galleries and on tour. Please view her website to see her list of titles, pictures of her paintings, life stuff on her blog, and more!

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Serena Wilcox, former private detective, wife, mother of three, the world’s first time-traveling detective and a newly anointed kick-ass heroine, was in conference with the men from the future beyond. She had teleported back to their time window using data from her previous visit. This time around Tom and Mandolin were with her. Tom was there as her date, and Mandolin was there in case her kick-ass reputation didn’t hold up.

We have a lot to talk about, she began.

The Future Beyond’s apparent spokesperson—the man with the yellow tie—said, There’s been another murder.

A murder? Another one? What murders? Serena had intended to take the lead with her questions about the Red-headed Devil. It hadn’t occurred to her that she’d end up on the other side of the table.

There will be time for that later. They are expecting you at the party.

Serena stared at him. This meeting is off to a strange footing.

We have secured a dance floor and musicians for the purpose of your dance on a star. His tone suggested that Serena should have been expecting such arrangements.

She was confused for a moment. Then she remembered what she’d said to Tom just before they had left for the Future Beyond. She had led him in a waltz around the living room, saying Dance with me upon a star. Her eyes narrowed. Are you listening in on my conversations?

Yes.

Oh dear. I’m afraid we’ll have to set some boundaries. Serena exchanged a look with Tom and Mandolin. They moved in closer.

The man with the yellow tie said, Willow.

Willow? I’m sorry, I don’t…

My name. You can stop thinking of me as ‘the man with the yellow tie’. My name is Willow.

Serena grimaced. Boundaries, Willow, boundaries. I don’t want you scanning my every thought, always peeping into my brain.

Willow nodded. Serena was about to ask him to clarify that head-nod. Was he agreeing not to stalk her, or was he agreeing that she wouldn’t like it if he didn’t stop? Before she could ask him, he ushered the trio into a corridor.

They followed Willow for what felt like a good quarter of a mile. The only sounds were the mechanical whooshing of circulation system fans and the swishing noise of Willow’s synthetic white leather pants as he walked. His clothes reminded Serena of the colored domino set she had when she was a child. His shirt was black, his tie was yellow, and his pants were white.

The rest of the human domino set was waiting for her in the ballroom. They stood in a tidy reception line, arms outstretched. She shook all of their hands as she moved down the line.

They reminded her of mannequins. Their faces looked like they were cut from the same mold. Any variations in facial features were too subtle to differentiate. Only the colors of their skin, eyes and hair were different from each other. And even then, their eye colors were too vivid—freakishly so. Where were the flecks of gold and variations of color? Where were the bands of lighter and darker tones? Their irises looked like marbles.

All of the men—there were no women—wore synthetic white pants and black shirts with different colored ties. Yes, it was just like her domino set, the game she used to play when her grandparents were still alive. For now she would chalk it up as a bizarre coincidence, but she suspected that Willow had researched everything about her, including trolling through her childhood memories.

The reception line dispersed after Tom and Mandolin went through it. Willow wandered off, leaving them with plenty of others to fuss over them. Some offered hors d'oeuvres while others made awkward stabs at social conversation. One of them asked Mandolin if he cared to dance. He declined.

Another man marched in butler-like fashion directly toward Serena. He held out a plastic clothing bag. Under the plastic was a familiar fluff of pink taffeta. No, it can’t be, she thought. But it was. It was the dress she wore to her senior prom. As she pulled it out of its bag she noticed that it was in a larger size than her original dress had been. She didn’t blush. She knew she wasn’t the tiny thing she had been when she was a teenager.

That’s what you wore to our prom, said Tom.

Yes, she whispered.

Tom took the dress and held it out in front of her. You said that you wanted to dance on a star. Isn’t that what I’m here for?

He waited for her to reappear from a dressing room that had been constructed precisely for this night. She emerged in layers of shimmering pink trimmed with white lace. She could hear the song Heaven by Bryan Adams playing. It had been a featured song at their prom, where Serena and Tom had been high school sweethearts.

What she hadn’t known then was how quickly the years would go by, and how shocking it would be to discover a thickening waistline, a need for bifocals, and gray hairs. How could they be middle aged? Inside she was still seventeen, and he was eighteen, the ages they were the night of their prom.

They were more experienced and more enlightened. They’d become parents together. They’d suffered hardships. They’d lived another twenty-five years, give or take, but they were still Tom and Serena, somewhere, lost inside their middle-aged bodies. But maybe, just for one night, they were found.

On the dance floor, swirling in pink taffeta, Serena was seventeen again in spirit. In Tom’s eyes, she was forever the girl he fell in love with. Tonight, Serena saw this in herself too.

A wall opened up to reveal floor-to-ceiling windows. They gasped and stared. The light from millions of stars struck the disco ball and dotted the dance floor. Heaven filled their ears. Serena buried her face into the crook of Tom’s neck and they swayed to the music.

They felt as if they were alone in the room. They were not. When the song ended, the musicians abruptly packed up their instruments and left. The house lights came up, fully. The two of them blinked under the glare. One of the men motioned for Serena to return to the dressing room. She cast one last look at Tom standing under the disco ball. It was fun while it lasted, she thought. Dancing on a star had been a three-minute dream.

After she finished changing back into her original clothes she stepped out into a completely transformed scene. The domino-suited men had brought out a massive conference table and dozens of chairs. Wait a minute, she thought. The table looked like the one that had been in Ann Kinji’s office when she had been President of the United States. Serena had been invited to sit around that table on numerous occasions. Yes, she knew it was the same table.

Let me ask you something, said Serena. I can’t help but notice that what I’m seeing looks remarkably similar to something I’ve seen before, if not an exact duplicate. Are you rifling through my brain?

Willow said, We want you to be comfortable.

So that would be a yes. I must say, this is freaking me out. It’s like I’m walking through a contorted dream that stretches out all night long, winding this way and that, compiling random memories into a mash-up that makes no sense. And you’re in the midst of it all.

Willow’s expression was blank. You are not comfortable?

Serena sighed. I’m fine. The dance was magical, though cheesy. I could use more dancing on stars.

Willow said, Should I instruct the band to return?

Serena laughed. No, no. Let’s get down to business—tell me about those murders.

Willow took command of the situation before the last man was fully seated at the conference table. We too want to eradicate the one you call the Red-headed Devil. He was specially bred, through cloning, to be a killer. He is a serial killer. His targets are enemies of the state, and of the World Order. His calling card is to leave the murder weapon and a message with the body.

Serena asked, How did all of this get started?

Reading nature's complete genetic blueprint for building a human being was made possible by the Human Genome Project. Do you know it?

Serena said, I’ve heard of it. I don’t know much about it. Is he answering my question? She couldn’t see where this was going.

It was a wealth of information. We kept a close eye on it when it began in 2003 and tracked its progress for over a decade. Of interest to you is that they claimed that cloning of humans could not be done. Two proteins essential to cell division are located too close to the chromosomes for removing the egg's nucleus. The nucleus must be removed to make room for the donor nucleus, without also removing the necessary spindle proteins. The unfortunate removal of spindle proteins interferes with cell division. This circumstance makes cloning humans impossible.

Willow stopped talking, as if the rest was self-explanatory. Serena asked, Are you saying that the MOTF found a way to keep the spindle proteins intact? Serena realized that Willow had been explaining how the Red-headed Devil himself got started, not how the murders began. She reasoned that the murders began when the Devil was created, as that was his destiny. In this way, Willow had answered her question.

She had plenty of time for pondering this while Willow sat without blinking. She wondered if his eyes contained more moisture than hers did. He could have beat her in a staring contest, that was for sure.

Finally Willow resumed his lecture. Solutions present themselves by accident. Research into gene therapy involves the treatment of underlying causes of disease rather than merely addressing symptoms. ‘Super cows’ call to mind other issues which cannot be ignored. Genomic manipulation of microbes for use in biofuels and carbon sequestration…

Serena interrupted. I’m not a scientist. I’m afraid a lengthy explanation is only going to waste your time, ditto for rattling off a seemingly random list of genetic studies, which is what you appear to be doing.

Willow tilted his head and stared at her.

Serena said, What I hear you saying is that scientists were working on various projects and during the course of those projects, they stumbled across a solution to the spindle proteins problem. And thus it was made possible to clone humans.

Correct. The next step was to genetically modify the embryos to select traits and to create desired outcomes. The executioner was crafted through the selection and optimization of a specific permutation of genes.

Serena said, They gave him animalistic killer instincts and took away his capacity for empathy. He’s a predator.

Willow tilted his head to one side. It is perhaps an over-simplified answer. However, yes, you are correct. You are also correct in thinking that you must go about this in a different way. Your attempt to eliminate him has failed, as you are well aware of.

Serena asked, What is your own interest in him?

Willow said, The events in your time directly affect events in our time. He will spawn a line of killers, who will one day be responsible for the murders that I speak of.

But you didn’t speak of it. What murders?

Willow tilted his head. He reminded Serena of a dog when he did that. Was he thinking? Was he hoping for a biscuit? He said, You have murders of your own. Focus your efforts there.

Serena said, Of my own? What do you mean by this?

Willow dodged the question. You must find his origin and eliminate him at the source.

But the lab results brought us to a dead end. You said it yourself; he is a product of cloning.

Willow said, Clones do not spontaneously appear. Find the scientist who manipulated his DNA. Find the petri dish.

Serena looked Willow square in the eyes. "I’m not an assassin. I don’t know what you expect me to do. I know that it looks as if I tried to kill the Red-headed Devil, but my actions were in self-defense.

"It was a primal instinct, a fight-or-flight type of situation. Except that I managed to do both of these—I fled while fighting. And then I suppose I attacked him later too, but again, it was in self-defense.

"I want to help, I really do. I want to protect myself, my family, and the universe—all of time and space, all of the stars in the sky, the future, and beyond. But I can’t murder someone in cold blood.

You can interrupt me at any time here, Willow. Why is this left up to me anyway? Why can’t your people take care of it? You’re more advanced than we are.

Willow snapped his fingers. A hologram appeared before Serena. It looked like the file directory system that she’d used during Operation Covert Coffee.