Free Mark of the Beast by Adolphus A. Anekwe

splurge on herself and the kids, knowing full well that Doug would have something to say against the whole idea.
    â€œI brought some orange juice and doughnuts,” said Joanne.
    â€œI’ll have some,” Alexis replied.
    â€œI will do that, too, then the Sierra Mist later,” Isipe added.
    Joanne reached into the cooler while gingerly steering the boat against the gentle summer Chicago wind.
    â€œHere,” Joanne said to Alexis, “pour one for you, and one for Isipe. The doughnuts are in the plastic container.”
    Both Alexis and Isipe had their fill and were satisfied. With their life jackets on, they started comparing which skyscraper was better looking and which one they would like to own if they ever became wealthy.
    Within minutes, Isipe yelled from the washroom, “Mom, I’m sick.”
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Joanne asked, with an anticipatory look.
    â€œMy stomach is upset and I’m gonna throw…” Isipe could not finish his sentence before projectile vomit mixed with blood spewed out of his mouth. He fell to the ground, curled himself into a fetal position, and grabbed his throat as if something was choking him. With a little whimper, “I need a doctor,” he turned blue. It started with his fingertips, then traveled to his neck. He struggled to breathe to no avail and passed out.
    Joanne ran to find Alexis. There on the bathroom floor was Alexis, covered with blood-soaked vomit, while blood droplets dripped from her nose. Her entire body had turned dark blue.
    â€œI declare,” Joanne said, quivering but composed, “that cyanide worked as quickly as they had said. Those guys at the Genome Laboratories are something else.”
    With that, Joanne drank the rest of the orange juice, then plunged into the cool waters of Lake Michigan.

 
    1
    T HE CAMPAIGN FOR THE governor of Illinois had suddenly become very competitive. It pitched the Democratic secretary of state, Edgar Jones, against a Republican congressman, Milton Roderick.
    Mr. Jones ran as a strong Secretary of State and advocated liberal positions, like home monitoring for petty criminals so as to avoid overcrowding in state prisons.
    Congressman Roderick, on the other hand, campaigned on stronger and longer prison terms for all criminals, promising to rid the state of Illinois of all criminal elements and also to restore ethics in government.
    Dr. Abramhoff supported Roderick, especially on the criminal issue, and had donated a substantial amount of money to his campaign.
    During one of the gubernatorial campaign stops in Chicago to highlight Roderick’s support for reform of Illinois’ runaway medical malpractice insurance premiums, Dr. Abramhoff had had an opportunity to discuss with him the Kankakee Project.
    The gathering was downtown at the Chicago Sheraton overlooking the Chicago River.
    â€œHello, Mr. Congressman,” Abramhoff said, noticing Roderick momentarily alone at the bar table.
    â€œHello, Doc.” Roderick smiled and then shook Abramhoff’s outstretched hand. “I’m grateful for all your efforts. Folks like you will make this a successful campaign.”
    â€œYou know I’m in total support of your stand on crime,” Abramhoff said.
    â€œThank you,” Roderick replied, reaching for the gin and tonic that he had ordered.
    â€œActually, my department at the university is currently designing a project at the Kankakee Federal Prison to study the relationship, if any, between hard-core criminals at the maximum security prison and their genetic makeup.”
    â€œThat’s good,” the congressman replied. “Care for a drink?”
    â€œNo thanks. What I mean is that we are looking to see if there is a genetic tendency to criminality just like there is a tendency to, say, develop diabetes, cancer, and some bowel diseases.”
    â€œAre you implying that there may be a link between criminals and inherited