Justin stepped out into the bitter cold of the morning for the third time in one hour. Sleep deprived and worn-out, he spent the entire night worrying about Paige and arguing with Allison about his blatant lack of honesty. She screamed and cried until her voice gave out while Justin begged for forgiveness, unpacking her suitcases and scattering clothes across the bedroom floor. Retreated to their corners at the end of another round, speaking terms prohibited altogether, Justin preferred the biting outside air to the choking oxygen inside. Thankful the snow ran its course, he paced across his backyard waiting for another message from Michael, hopefully, informing him that Paige was on her way home. He thought it unlikely but held his breath all the same. He considered driving up to the Blue Star, if that’s where they still were, but found solace knowing that Paige was with Billy, his trustworthy Billy Boy–the safest place for her to be, aside from home.

Tightening his robe and pulling down his ski hat to cover his exposed neck, Justin sat on the porch swing and gently rocked back-and-forth. He watched steam rise from his coffee cup and slowly took a sip, keeping the mug close to his face for warmth. Strutter opted to stay inside by the fire next to Allison, and although tempted to call him out for treason, he let his four-legged friend sleep. A brisk wind swept through the yard and Justin squint his eyes, breaking his hypnotic gaze into a vacuum of inanimate objects. Last night had been a grueling hike down memory lane, a road filled with potholes and nails, spikes, glass and suicide curves. He hated revisiting the past, but one memory led to the next as he followed that old congested lane, sifting through the meat and potatoes of my past, he thought, and continued his reluctant stroll.

Justin and Allison quit receiving their injections about five years ago. Allison pulled through okay, aging naturally with no serious side effects or withdrawal symptoms, but his was a different story. At first, he pulled through as seamlessly as Allison, but six months ago, without warning, the aging process kicked into full throttle leaving him a weak and feeble old man. He endured for as long as his body permitted, but when death seemed more real than life itself, he put in a request. Vincent, once again, had leverage over him. Justin could feel his cold arm around his shoulders, directing him, pushing and pulling him along like the moon commanding the waves. His need for the medicine bound him to Vincent, and loyalty was the only payment his old friend required.

Justin didn’t believe Vincent was all bad. They met during their college years, both biology majors, they shared a dorm and quickly developed a close friendship. Justin had always been the outgoing, well-spoken and well-liked student, and his family name only boosted his prominent social standing. Vincent was none of the above. Loud, disruptive and foulmouthed, his mixed ethnicity didn’t help at an all-white school in the early fifties. His family’s claim to fame consisted of blackmail and corruption, but despite the Doucet’s bad reputation, their sugarcane business generated a fair amount of wealth.

The two friends spent long hours together debating topics like religion and science and politics, but by night’s end, their focus turned to speculative rhetoric. Vincent often talked about hidden knowledge that was kept secret by a small circle of elites, the shadow people–the true government. He became particularly heated when the topic of World War II arose, claiming, duh bankers, dey funded both sides of duh war, an duh Nazis, dey here in America now. Justin usually rolled his eyes, yawned and bid his friend goodnight. Years later, when the sixties arrived with multiple assassinations, political scandals and public dissent, he quit rolling his eyes.

Justin’s college years introduced him to the field of genetic engineering, an unknown science to most students and scholars at the time. His influential family owned a biotech company and he enjoyed the privilege of attending private seminars and lectures. He rubbed elbows with the world’s leading scientists, even peeked at classified documents from a German scientist who supposedly worked for the CIA. Vincent didn’t sleep for days after Justin told him about the encounter, I told yuh Justin! Didn’t I tell yuh? Duh Nazis, dey workin’ for duh CIA. Justin’s last name awarded him numerous perks and privileges, but it was Vincent’s cunning wit and deceitful southern charm that opened doors he didn’t know existed.

Justin remembered the night as a turning point. He’d invited Vincent over for a Christmas party at his family’s estate house. He’d been nervous that night, one reason being that his family disapproved of his date, Allison, the daughter of a working-class family. Vincent was the other reason. He’d shown up wearing a bright red zoot suit with a petite young woman by his side, exotic and beautiful in her red dress, Valley would forever haunt Justin in that red silk gown. He’d warned Vincent to behave himself, and by night’s end, Vincent won over his family’s inner circle. He too attended private seminars and lectures, and on graduation day, Vincent knew more about biotechnology than Justin.

He wasn’t jealous. Vincent often accused him of harboring resentment, but it wasn’t envy, he just didn’t understand. Justin hated his elitist family, and after graduation, he quit his job working side-by-side with his father at the biotech company. He wanted out, he wanted to blind the watchful eye of his father, but Vincent weaseled his way in. The corrupt secret societies and puppet masters who supposedly ruled from behind the scenes, the ones that kept Vincent awake at night, were the very people Justin’s family served. Vincent’s answer was simple, know your enemy, Justin, know your enemy. Vincent knew the enemy quite well after taking a job with Justin’s father in a private laboratory.

He didn’t know where the information came from, or which scientist broke the code, but he knew it wasn’t Vincent. Someone pointed him in the right direction, and according to his old friend, that someone was a Nazi scientist, I told yuh Justin, duh Nazis, dey got duh secret knowledge. Dey gonna create duh perfect race, an I’m helpin’. Justin didn’t know what to believe, but everything changed after Allison’s pregnancy. He should have said no, he should have taken his wife, changed his name and left for the hills years before he finally did, but the idea had been so persuasive. The possibility of altering an organism’s genetic makeup was science fiction back then, but someone discovered the right genes and the desirable patterns—someone solved the equation. Allison’s pregnancy, Justin’s first born son, had been a beta test. Through the process of in-vitro fertilization, Allison became the first mother, off record, to deliver a test-tube baby.

The birth had been a surprising success. His new baby boy was guaranteed superior intellect and superior physical attributes like beauty and stamina. He was to be immune from disease and old age, but when his firstborn son hit puberty, they also noticed he possessed magic hands. His ability to heal minor afflictions such as headaches and stomachaches, nausea, sprains or even broken bones amazed everyone involved, but by that time, newer models already existed. His father insisted the firstborn son be named after him, but William Faraday III would simply go by Billy.

Justin cringed when he thought about it. Vincent being locked away in his father’s laboratory, conducting hundreds of experiments on human embryos—the idea sickened him. He knew he’d made a mistake by agreeing to the first procedure, but they didn’t stop there. He and Allison discussed what other improvements or adjustments they’d like to make on their second child. They were addicted to the idea. They bought in to the theory that predispositions like below-average intelligence, obesity or any form of disability could be prevented through selective breeding. They bought in to eugenics. They wanted to improve the human population by filtering out unwanted traits and undesirable genetic properties beginning with their own children. Justin knew they’d made a mistake, but they were already in too deep.

Vincent, of course, also wanted in on it, but Dr. Faraday refused. Only the Faraday bloodline would enjoy the genetic altercations. They were a pure bloodline, unlike the Doucets, whose ancestry mixed and matched until their ethnicity became difficult to determine, a little bit of French, Spanish and Haitian, even the Faradays contributed to the colorful lineage. The decision outraged Vincent. He refused to keep working for the Faradays and started his own lab at the Shady Oak Sugarcane Plantation. Justin and Allison followed. After all, Vincent no longer needed assistance, he knew how it was done, and when he walked away with a head full of knowledge and a tall stack of notes, he also knew his life was in danger. Vincent knew his enemy, and Dr. Faraday, along with his team of scientists, intended on silencing their ex-colleague.

In those early days at Shady Oak, when Allison and Valley glowed with radiance during their pregnancies together, the four friends lived outside of the real world. They lived outside of traditional morals, common knowledge and mainstream science. Vincent and Valley welcomed their first set of twins while Justin and Allison gave birth to their second son. All three babies had been modified, as well as Vincent and Valley’s second set of twins a year later. Their future together appeared boundless. They hosted decadent parties at least once a week catering to local celebrities, movie stars and musicians, but when he wasn’t entertaining guests (something he adored), Vincent spent his time in the lab. The foursome lived a lavished life but they wanted more, they wanted their own fortune, far removed from the wealth of their families.

While Allison and Valley cared for the children, Justin spent his time making contacts and researching the skincare industry. He crunched numbers and studied the competition until Vincent emerged from the lab with the finished product. The results produced a multi-billion dollar business offering the best and most effective skincare line on the market. It not only masked deep wrinkles and reduced the appearance of aging, but their product raised the bar, Valley of Beauty regenerated dead skin cells. After the unveiling, they immediately enjoyed profits putting them in first place ranking among competitors. With the horse barely out of the starting box, the foursome took to the air flying higher than Superman on steroids, or Mary Poppins on a windy day.

In an industry where vanity reigned supreme, Vincent devoted much of his time perfecting their product and ensuring that Valley of Beauty held its competitive edge. Five years had passed since Vincent walked away from his work with the Faradays, and his paranoia reached new heights by the start of the 1960s. Every passing car or knock on the door had him reaching for his gun or the nearest available weapon. He complained about being followed, insisted that the phone line was tapped and claimed to have seen men in black hiding out in the sugarcane fields. Justin blamed it on the large amount of marijuana they’d both been smoking, but when the lab was broken into and ransacked, he kept an open mind. Dey just bidin’ duh time Justin, but dey comin’, comin’ for duh kids too, I ‘magine. Justin hadn’t spoken with his family since he and Allison left for Shady Oak, but he knew where he stood, he chose a Doucet over his own family, he was a traitor.

The Shady Oak Sugarcane Plantation held a dark history dating back to the pre-Civil War era. The Faradays owned the land back then and earned the reputation of being ruthless slaveholders. Horror stories surfaced about disobedient slaves being thrown into snake pits or killed by the removal of a vital organ. Some accusations painted them as cannibals who slowly cooked their slaves alive before eating them. Justin despised his heritage, but he never believed the heinous rumors. The Doucets descended from those slaves and eventually inherited the land after a lovesick Faraday left it to his mistress, a Haitian woman with whom he’d fathered four children, one being Vincent’s great-great grandfather. The two bloodlines were intertwined but Dr. William Faraday was a purist. He wanted to cleanse the Faraday bloodline and make some improvements along the way. Vincent wanted revenge. He saw Dr. Faraday as a sadist, daz duh only reason he let me in, tuh build me up, use me up, an den kill me. Vincent often accused The Faraday lineage of worshipping the devil.

Justin himself didn’t worship anything, but Vincent embraced his southern Baptist beliefs. He rarely missed church on Sundays and could often be found reading his Bible when taking a break from the lab. He hated his wife’s love for the mystical world. Valley would stay locked away for hours paying tribute to shrines and altars she made for family and loved ones. Vincent pleaded with her to give it up and vowed to keep praying until she did. Valley would recoil, you can pray till your blue in the face, but I’m keepin’ my ways. Vincent either retreated back to his lab, or, once the setting sun cooled the hot southern day, he’d play his fiddle under his favorite oak tree. All that changed after his trips to Egypt.

They continued their communal-type living arrangements enjoying the secluded beauty of the plantation, but Vincent spent much of his time alone. He returned from his trips exhausted and slept through most of the day, and when he wasn’t sleeping, his foul mood kept him isolated. Justin finally confronted his old friend, out of concern, sure, but mostly out of curiosity. He knew Vincent was searching for something, and after a dozen or so attempts at trying to talk to him, Vincent finally confessed, I’m searchin’ for duh knowledge, Justin. Duh spirits in duh tombs, duh pyramids, dey hold answers, dey broke duh code, dey hold duh key tuh immortality. Justin rolled his eyes and told him to lay off the hallucinogens. He knew his friend possessed a brilliant mind, Vincent always reached beyond the looking glass, but his obsession with ancient knowledge and secret cults eventually drove him mad. At least, that’s how Justin used to view it. Back in those days, he never believed in conspiracies.

Locked away in his laboratory, Vincent quit talking about his personal research, and when Justin did approach the subject, fielding a question or two, Vincent would only smile and reply, you’ll see, Justin. Even in those early days, he could see the change in his friend, the hunger for recognition, power and revenge, but it was more than that, something darker drove him into madness until his transformation rendered him a stranger.

Justin took partial blame for Vincent’s descent into lunacy. He’d never been a true friend, only a business partner, a colleague, a customer, but never a real friend. Even when Vincent feared for his life, Justin rolled his eyes and told him to lay off the weed. Years later, after the unforgivable atrocities Vincent unleashed, Justin claimed a small amount of guilt for everything. He knew what his father was up to, using Vincent’s brilliant mind only to shut him out and insult his ancestry. Dr. Faraday hailed from a long line of corrupt, power-hungry men, and when Justin finally did accept the truth about his family’s violent history, he saw what Vincent always knew existed. Of course they wanted him dead, he thought. His old friend once told him, Justin, your family, dey worship duh eye, if yuh start lookin’, yuh see it everywhere. Duh television, duh movies, duh malls, it’s duh devil’s eye, Justin. After Vincent’s last trip to Egypt, he too developed an interest in the eye.

Vincent quit reading his Bible after returning from his last and final visit to the Great Pyramids. He found something on that trip, his leverage over the Faradays and his answer to immortality–he found the secret knowledge. When Vincent told him about the discovery, Justin hurt himself laughing, but after seeing a demonstration in the lab, the color drained from his face and he lost his balance. Vincent injected a clear fluid into a shriveled black apple, and within seconds, it plumped up and turned a shiny red. All bets were off, Vincent won the prize but kept his find a secret, except for a brief meeting with Dr. Faraday. After showing him the demonstration on the apple, Vincent injected the formula into his own arm. Dr. Faraday gasped as a patch of Vincent’s gray hair turned black and the fine lines around his eyes disappeared. The doctor demanded an injection for himself, and Vincent obliged, neglecting to tell the good doctor that it only lasted for twenty-four hours.

Vincent found his leverage and his revenge, but he also lost something in Egypt. Call it his soul, his morale, his humanity, his sanity, Justin didn’t know, but his old friend quit caring about the puppet masters and the powers that be. He shrugged his shoulders at the Kennedy assassinations and rolled his eyes when Nazi technology proved, again, to baffle scientists. Why wouldn’t he shrug, Justin thought, the man discovered the fountain of youth. Vincent claimed to have evolved to a higher level, and while his friendship with Justin waned, his relationship with Valley intensified. He embraced her interest in the ancient mystic religions and together they’d please duh spirits, as Vincent would say. If anyone knew the details about who or what Vincent found during his visits to Egypt, it was Valley, but she shot herself about a year after his discovery. Time supposedly healed all wounds, but Justin wasn’t convinced. He would forever fall silent at the mention of her name.

A green SUV turned off onto the long gravel road. Justin stood from the porch swing and dumped his cold coffee, saved by the Green Police, he thought, and almost welcomed the distraction of the otherwise intrusive visitors–almost. The snow melted under his feet and he glared at the officers as they trampled through his winter garden. He clinched his fists when he imagined the fines they’d receive for the numerous environmental codes (codes that changed every month) his house violated. The big blue tarp that covered a large section of their roof cost thousands in fines already, not to mention the other violations they had yet to correct. One of these days, he thought, I’ll be waiting for them with my shotgun in hand warning them to get off my land. With that in mind, he went inside to confront the Nazi bastards.