Legacies

Technology to change the world… and make Ronald Clayton a revered figure… one of history's great men…

the man of the century… the man of the mille

But Ronald Clayton wasn't a great man… wasn't even an ordinary man… he was a monster who sullied every life he touched…

And the thought of history raising monuments to him…

She wanted to retch.

And yet, what right did she have to withhold such a marvel from the world?

None. She was just one person, and there were billions who could benefit.

She could feel the strings… tugging at her… manipulating her like a marionette. And she knew the name of the puppeteer.

Yes… she had a lot of thinking to do.

CHRISTMAS EVE

1.

Alicia drove downhill through the darkness toward the lights of New Paltz. She felt light-headed, almost giddy.

Two days it had taken her, two full days of agonizing, but she'd finally made up her mind.

And now she felt… clean. Yes, clean … that was the only word for it. As if she'd shed a ratty, moth-eaten old skin and now had a new one to show the world.

Going to be a different Alicia Clayton from now on. A whole new attitude, a whole new outlook. Starting tonight. Wasn't going to be easy… she had no illusions about that. But she had this feeling that if she kept pretending to be the new Alicia, after a while she'd start believing it.

That was the only way to go. Because the life she'd been leading lately was no life at all. Sure, the work was important, but there had to be more than that. Alicia was determined to have a full life. A good life.

Living well is the best revenge… how often had she heard that expression? Now she realized that it doubly applied to her.

Alicia listened to one of the all-news AM stations from the city as she made her way through the slushy, light-festooned streets of New Paltz. She'd been out of touch for two days but learned she hadn't missed much.

The only story vaguely interesting concerned an Arab trade envoy named Nazer or something who'd been murdered execution style outside his Manhattan apartment. An assassination? the newsman wanted to know. Police were speculating whether this death was related to that of the murdered Arab who was found recently along with five other bodies in the Catskills.

Alicia wondered too.

She turned off the radio as she pulled onto the thru way. She set the cruise control, then picked up the cell phone. Tension knotted in her chest as she punched in a number. Her thumb hesitated over the send button, but she took a deep breath and forced it down.

When she heard a familiar voice say hello, she almost hung up, but pushed the words past her dry throat.

"Will? This is Alicia. Can we talk?"

2.

"This isn't exactly the Christmas Eve I'd pla

Gia and Vicky had dragged him down to the Center for Children with AIDS and into the infant care area. Gia kept telling him the babies didn't have AIDS—they were simply HIV-positive. As if that was a big consolation.

"And what exactly did you have pla

"Well… me by the fire with a hot toddy, you in the kitchen preparing the Christmas goose…"

She gri

"Something like that."

"Dream on, Scrooge."

Vicky laughed from a neighboring rocking chair where she cuddled another baby. She wore a red velvet dress and white tights. "He's not Uncle Scrooge. He's Jack Crachit!"

Ebenezer Scrooge had been Disneyfied into Uncle Scrooge in Vicky's mind, but Jack didn't correct her. Uncle Scrooge was an old friend.

"Hearty-har-har-har, Vicks," Jack said. He had his own rocking chair, but no baby, which was just fine with him.

Gia stood and lifted the baby against her shoulder.

"He is Mr. Scrooge," she said, patting the baby's back. "Look at him sitting there listening to his radio, the epitome of the Christmas spirit."

He'd brought along a portable radio and had set it on a window ledge, playing low.

"It's Christmas music," he said.

The tiny speaker wasn't doing any justice to Shawn Colvin's very cool version of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," but she sounded great anyway.

"Yeah, but it's that same upstate station you've been listening to for the past two days. What's so interesting in the Catskills?"

"I've been following a story up there."

Gia stared at him. "The one about…?"

She didn't finish the sentence but he knew what story she meant. The six corpses found at a rest stop along the thruway—"Shocking Mass Murder!"—had made all the media.

She obviously didn't want to mention the specifics in front of Vicky.

He nodded. "That's the one."

Jack had parked the truck in a corner of the rest stop lot and called Julio. He'd eaten a couple of cheeseburgers and hung out, watching the snow until Julio arrived, then the two of them had headed back to the city. Along the way, Jack stopped at a gas station and phoned in a tip about the abandoned panel truck.

Gia's mouth tightened and she turned away. The baby, a little black girl, peered at Jack over Gia's shoulder and burped.

"There's a good girl," Gia said. She turned and approached Jack, stopping directly in front of him. "Hold out your arms," she said.

"No, Gia, really—"

"Do it, Jack. Trust me, you need this. You really do. But she needs it more."

"Come on, Gia—"

"No, I mean it."

She turned the baby so Jack could see her face. The dark eyes stared at him for a few seconds, then she smiled.

Gas, Jack thought.

"Her name's Felicity. One of the nurses started calling her that because her mother took off without bothering to name her. Felicity had to go through crack withdrawal during her first week of life; she's HIV positive, and she's been abandoned. She's got no one to hold her, Jack. Babies need to be held. So go ahead. Give her a break. It won't kill you."

"It's not that…"

"Jack." She held Felicity out to him.

"Oh, okay."

Gingerly, skittishly, Jack let Gia place the baby into his arms.

"Careful, now," he said. Why was she making him do this? "Careful. Jeez, don't let me drop her."

Gia laughed softly, and the sound made him relax. "She's fragile, but not that fragile."

Finally he had her, with her head nestled in the crook of his right arm. She skooched and squirmed, and so Jack held her tighter, snuggling his arms around her so she'd know she was secure, with no place to fall. Gia put a pacifier into her mouth and Felicity began to suck. That seemed to work. She closed her eyes and lay quiet.

"How's it feel?" Gia said.

Jack looked up at her. "It feels… okay."

Gia smiled. "Coming from you, that's the equivalent of 'fabulous,' I guess."

Jack stared back down at Felicity's i

"It is fabulous, Gia."

And he meant it. That something as simple as being held by another human could be so important to an infant was almost… overwhelming.

"Nice little gifts your folks passed on to you, Felicity: an addiction and a killer virus. Where do you go from here?"

"A foster home eventually," Gia said.

He looked up again and saw tears in her eyes. "They need so much, Jack. I wish I could take in every one of them."