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Tuesday - September 14

Slowly catching my breath, I listen for a response from the other end. Hearing only silence, I say, "Hello, this is Dr. John Bennett. Who's calling, please?"

I can hear breathing over the line, but no one speaks. I pull my chair out to sit. Desperately wanting to know who is on the other end, I say, "Please, I don't know who you are, but please, talk to me."

Clutching onto the receiver, I start to become annoyed. I don't understand why someone's messing around, especially with what's happening in the world. "Damn it!" I yell into the mouthpiece. "Who are you, and why in the hell won't you talk to me!"

I can still hear the caller breathing. Finally, in a low monotone voice, the caller says, "Twenty-eight."

I repeat what the caller had said, "Twenty-eight." Then I hear the phone disconnect. With the receiver to my ear, I contemplate on what the caller had said: "Twenty-eight." Hearing a dial tone at the other end, I push the outside line button and begin to dial Claire's cell. As I'm dialing, I hear someone speaking through the receiver. I put the phone to my ear. It's a taped message from the CDC saying that all outside lines have been disconnected for security reasons. I slam the phone down and stand up to get my cell out of my pocket. Frantically needing to speak with Claire, I speed dial, but instead of ringing, I hear a message saying that all cell phone activity has been shut down indefinitely. What the hell? I log onto my computer, hoping to be able to send her a text; no such luck. The Internet's down, only leaving the CDC with the Intranet. I hit the monitor in disgust.

I collapse into my chair, holding my head in my hands, wondering how I'm going to be able to communicate with Claire. I glance at the clock and see that it's past six o'clock. I hope Aunt Ruth is with Claire.

Feeling powerless, I decide I better get back to the reality of things. In my failed attempts to contact Claire, I notice a red folder on my desk that I hadn't seen when I came into my office. Not knowing where it came from, or how it even got on my desk, I apprehensively open it to inspect its contents.

The first page is a photo, quite aged, of a man I do not recognize. As I stare at the picture, I somehow feel that I know this man; but from where?

I pick up the second page, and it's a photo of my father. "Dad," I murmur.

I pick up the third page. On it is a symbol that I don't recognize. Of course, with the Internet down, there's no way for me to do any research. Somehow, though, I feel as if I have seen this symbol somewhere before, too; but where?

The fourth page, I'm not quite sure what I'm seeing. Trying to figure out what I'm looking at, I notice some writing in the lower right corner. It reads, "Boy." Boy? Then it dawns on me. "Oh, my God!" Intensely, I realize it's an ultrasound of a fetus. Reading the word "Boy" again, I became excited. We're having a boy! I rejoice for Claire and I. Holding the picture in my hand, I begin to feel uncertain about something. About what, I do not know. All I know is that something's not right. I can't put my finger on it, but something's wrong.

I set the image of the fetus aside and pick up page five. It's full of dates from the early part of the twenty-first century. I read down the column and notice that each date has an initial noted by them. Looking closer at the writing, I make out the lettering. It reads, "R.A.D." Wondering what "R.A.D." stands for, I pick up the last page. To my amazement, it reads, "Twenty-eight." That's what the caller had said, "twenty-eight."

Having absolutely no clue as to what all of this means, I gather up all of the pages, except for the ultrasound photo, and replace them back into the folder. Not wanting anyone to know that we're having an illegal child, I decide that I better hide it for now. I look around my office, and after careful consideration, I remove a picture from the wall, open the back, and place the photo between the picture and the backing. Making sure the back is secure as before, I return the picture to its original display. I lay my hand on the picture in hopes that no one finds out what lies beneath. I then decide to go to Monica's office to check on the cancelled researches that she and Ted's working on. I grab the red folder and leave my office. As I walk out, Jim Boyle runs into me.