The Light and The Darkness - 1. Chapter 1

1998

The screams. Screams of agony. The wailing wind of the terrible winter storm outside was nothing compared to this. Doctor Marcus Banister hurried through the corridors. They had called him to a woman who was in labor. There were some problems with a fetus and Banister was the only one available. And now he could hear her screams.

When he entered the room he saw the martyred woman in her half upright position, the hospital nightgown spread between her legs. She was sweating; her blond hair glued to her forehead. Banister believed her to be something around 20 years. Quite young, but not the youngest mother he had.

Three nurses were present and one of them turned towards him when she became aware of his presence. "Doctor Banister, thank God you're here." She had long brown hair. He didn't know her but her nametag said ‘Patricia'.

"What do we have here?" he asked, while the woman on the bed screamed again in pain.

"Contractions at short intervals now. It seems one of the babies hasn't turned around yet and is blocking the way."

"Twins?"

"Yes."

"Ok, what's her name?" He put on some surgical gloves from a sideboard.

"We don't know. She wouldn't give it away. She just appeared at the front doors."

"If there's no patient record how do you know she has twins?"

"Because she refers to them as ‘my boys'." Patricia bit her bottom lip.

"Ok then." They moved towards the bed and Banister sat down on a stool at the bed's end. "Ma'am, my name is Doctor Banister. I'm here to help you and your boys. Everything will be fine. But I need your help, do you understand?" The woman looked back at him. Her blue eyes were widened. Banister could see how tired she was. He had to move quickly.

"Good." He reached under the gown and felt her belly. There was definitely life in it because he could clearly feel a kick. "Let's see what we have." He rolled the nightgown back to get a view between her legs. She was wide enough to deliver, but Patricia was right, there was something wrong. He laid his hands again onto the swollen stomach and tried to distinguish what he felt. There was a head but, it appeared to be facing the wrong direction. The other fetus seemed to be ok. He had turned around in the correct way, but he couldn't get out. They were now trapped in this yin-and-yang-like position.

Banister's thoughts were racing. He thought about an abdominal delivery but by the time they got the mother ready for that it could be too late. There was only one option.

"Ma'am, I'm going to try to bring the second baby into the correct position. I will push him aside so we can get the other one first, ok?" A pain filled grunt was the answer he got. He only had done this procedure twice in his life. The second time it had been a dead birth. He prayed that the babies would be alright. "Ok, this might feel a bit cold." He carefully entered one hand into the opening. "No pushing yet. Hold back." He felt a leg and then another leg.

"Erm... Patricia, right?" The one spoken to nodded. "I need your help when I'm done. You have to press on her stomach from above to help her deliver the child. Could the others please prepare the towels and instruments?" All of them nodded. They were professional and began to perform their duties.

"Ok, on my mark, you are to push." He shoved the legs aside and felt for the other one's head. There it was. He corrected its position just a bit, being really careful not to damage the fragile neck. He felt a contraction coming. "Now push!" The woman groaned.

"Mary, help her please," Patricia said. The nurse named Mary came back and reached for the woman's hand.

"Breathe, dear, breathe." The woman began to pant. "That's it. You're doing this very well."

Another contraction made Banister give the command again. "Push! Yeah, the head is free. Just a little bit more. Good. Once more." Patricia and the woman pushed together at the same time.

"Great, he's out." Banister held the baby in the palms of his hands. "I need a towel and the staples." The third nurse, a peek at her nametag told him that her name was Kathy, handed him a towel and two surgical staples for the umbilical cord. She also had the scissors ready. He applied the staples to interrupt the blood stream. When the pulsation had stopped, he cut the umbilical cord in between. The baby began to cry. Suddenly the room got brighter. Banister raised one of his brows and looked up at the ceiling. The fluorescent tube above him was brighter than normal. It was surreal. Patricia and the other nurses also looked up.

The crying stopped and the intensity of light decreased in an instant. Banister looked down at the boy... and the baby boy looked back at him. Banister couldn't believe this. The baby stared directly into his eyes. It gave him a warm feeling. A feeling of hope. He looked at the small body in his hands. The boy was a normal baby; there was nothing special about him. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was a little birthmark on his right hip in the shape of a U. The ends of the up-reaching arms were sharp, they tapered. He had never seen a birthmark like this. He stroked the boy's head and the little one closed his eyes.

"Here you go," he handed the wrapped baby to Mary, who carried him to a baby case on the sideboard.

"Now let's take care of the other one." Banister turned his attention again towards the widened opening. He wanted to reach in again to position the head, but then the head appeared on its own. Banister was astonished. The baby had rotated all alone and apparently was eager to follow his brother.

"Ma'am your second baby is coming. I need you to push with the contractions." He took the small head and supported the struggle for freedom. Patricia held the woman's hand and helped her to find the right breathing rhythm. "Kathy, towel please." The baby was out. Banister cleaned the blood from the boy. He had a birthmark as well but to Banister's amazement this birthmark was on the opposite side namely on the left hip and furthermore the U shape showed downward and was a bit darker in color. This was amazing. It was normal for dizygotic twins to be different but this was really exceptional.

He proceeded with the staples and cut the umbilical cord when the pulsing of the blood within had stopped. The boy began to cry as well. Banister winced when there was a loud blow against the window. The storm was shaking the glass in the window frames. But this was not all. Above him the light above began to flicker. He looked up at the fluorescent tube and saw its diminishing light. Banister looked down again at the baby in the towel in front of him. He looked up and met Patricia's gaze. What was this?

The baby stopped crying and the light returned to its normal state and even the storm outside the window seemed to lose its power. He handed the boy to Kathy. Now they had to wait until the placenta would come out.

The woman had sunk back into the pillow. Her eyes were closed and she was asleep. Patricia cooled her head with a wet washcloth. Banister was eager to hear the woman's story... and her name. This was so extraordinary. Never in his whole career had he encountered a childbirth like this. He stood up from the small stool, stretching his back. He removed the blood covered gloves and put on two new ones.

He walked over to the sideboard where Mary and Kathy had brought the boys to take care of them. He compared both boys when they lay next to each other in their small cases. Both looked healthy. His gaze fell on the two birthmarks and he realized again how they were in contrast with one another:

∩ ∪

He narrowed his eyes and then sighed. "Note the date and time of birth, Friday, February 13th 1998, 7:13 PM and 7:23 PM. Mother, Jane Doe, Father, unknown. We can insert the parents' and the boys' names when she wakes up and hopefully tells us." Banister ran his fingers through his hair. Some months ago it had not been as thin as it was now. He grew old. But he was only 42, so in his prime. "Mary could you weigh the boys as well, please?" Mary nodded.

"Doctor Banister, the placenta is coming," Patricia called out to him.

"Good. Mary, could you please bring the babies to the ward when you're finished."

"Of course." She wrapped the boys into two fresh towels. "Kathy, could you give me a hand here?"

"Sure."

They left the room each holding one of the fragile newborns in their arms. Banister hurried over to the bed. The woman was still asleep. Two babies must have worn her out. "Careful now. It has to come off on its own." He took the remains of the two umbilical cords into his hand, waiting for the placenta to fully break loose from the uterus. There was a slight flow of blood and what he waited for appeared at the entrance of the vagina. He carefully pulled it out and put it into a basin. He handed it to Patricia who brought it to the sideboard. Banister used a towel to wipe off the blood. It didn't stop flowing. More blood was pouring out of the vagina. Patricia came back and handed him some more towels. Still the bleeding didn't stop.

"Damn it! Put the headboard down! We need her to lie level. And put her on ECG." Patricia did what doctor Banister had told her and also hit the emergency button to call for another nurse.

Banister hurried over to the sideboard and opened some drawers. He took out a syringe and fumbled with the needle package until he got it open. When he had put them together, he took out a bottle of blood coagulant, delicate to use but necessary in some cases, and drew the liquid into the syringe.

He hurried back to the woman and injected the content. He cast a glance at the monitor. At the same moment, the called nurse entered the room. "Diana, come here please," Patricia called out to the nurse. The one spoken to hurried over to them and stood next to Patricia.

"Patricia, call for an OR," he ordered. Patricia hurried over to the telephone on the wall. "We need to stabilize her, quick. And we need to stop the bleeding!" Banister waited for the medication to take effect. Nothing in the woman's conditions changed.

"No-go on the OR," Patricia came back.

"Blood pressure is falling, doctor," Diana said with a look at the monitor.

"Damn, she's bleeding too much. Call them again, we NEED that room, NOW!" Between the woman's legs was a puddle of blood now.

"They're all taken. There have been several severe car accidents because of the snow storm. Can you believe that? A snow storm in February?"

The body on the table began to shake.

"Seizure! Hold her!" The tremor throughout the woman's body increased in intensity. All three of them tried to hold her arms and chest down to the bed until the tremor was over. Suddenly the monitor made an alarming signal. "Ventricular fibrillation!" The nurse opposite to Banister immediately began with the ventilation.

"Patricia, adrenaline!" Patricia stormed to the sideboard to prepare a syringe and handed it Banister who had loosened the nightgown to free the chest by the time she came back. The needle pierced directly through the chest so its content could reach the heart. Banister looked at the monitor, the syringe still in his hand.

"No reaction, doctor."

"Defib!" Banister threw the syringe away, took the paddles Diana handed him and put them onto the woman's bare chest. "200!"

"Doctor?"

"I said 200!"

"Yes doctor. 200 Joules... ready."

"Clear." He fired the charge. The woman's body convulsed. The back slightly lifted from the table because of the contracting muscles and sank down again.

"No reaction."

"Again 200!" The charge was set. "Clear!" He fired again.

"Nothing."

"Again! ... Not on my shift!" He said between clenched teeth. Droplets of sweat appeared on Banister's forehead. "Clear." Fire.

A continuous beep could be heard. "Asystole! No reaction at all." Pause. "She's gone."

"DAMN IT!" Doctor Banister put the paddles away and freed himself from the surgical gloves. "Time of death..." Before he looked at the clock on the wall he furiously threw the gloves into a corner. "7:50 PM." He stroked through his sweaty hair.

"There was nothing we could do," Patricia came to him and stroked his arm. It was a nice gesture but Banister felt guilty anyway. It was his duty to save life and he failed. He patted her hand. "Thank you, Patricia." He had just met this woman less than an hour ago and now he was obliged because of her caring for him. She nodded and turned towards the door.

Patricia left the room and headed towards the nurses' lounge. She picked up the telephone and dialed a number from memory. She waited several seconds before the other end picked up.

"Yes?" a male voice asked.

"It happened. They are born." Patricia was excited.

"Are you sure?"

"It is him. I know it. Their mother died because of severe bleedings," she said into the receiver.

The man on the other end was quiet for a moment. Then he answered, "Take him to safety. They will be looking for him, too."

"And his brother?"

The man sighed. "Kill him."

"What?" she almost shrieked. "I can't do that. He's just a baby."

"Listen, Patricia, we need to stop it now. If they get him, if he grows up and becomes aware of his powers the world will end. Do you understand me?" He paused. "You can stop this right now. You can save billions of lives."

A tear ran down her cheek. "I'll see what I can do." She sniffed and hung up.

She left the lounge and went over to the elevators and pressed the button for the upper stories. The neonatal ward was above the labor rooms. The doors opened and she walked in. The doors closed behind her. So she didn't see the men that stepped out off the elevator next to hers. They were two and wore expensive black Armani suits with white silk shirts underneath the jacket and fitting wine-red silk ties. There wasn't the slightest bit of snow on their jackets, their black shoes looked freshly polished. They looked like twins in their outfits but they weren't.

Both men walked past the nurses' lounge and headed towards the room Patricia had left only moments before.

"Diana, could you please call the morgue? Ask them to take this woman downstairs and commence an autopsy," Banister said while signing a paper.

"Of course, doctor." Diana turned around when the door behind her was opened and the butt of a Sig Sauer P229 was struck against her forehead. She sank down to the floor.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Banister looked down at the knocked-out nurse and then raised his head again to look directly into the muzzle of the gun.

"Where're the boys?" the gunman asked.

Banister was shocked. He couldn't respond immediately. How could these two men come here and ask this? How did they know about them? And then he realized the weapon again and fear swept into his body. His heart rate increased. He could feel how the adrenaline shot into his blood stream and how his body feverishly tried to produce more of this stress hormone in the adrenal medulla.

"I don't know who you are but if I were you I would leave now." Banister didn't know why he said that. He never had been a courageous man. This is why he worked in a hospital. He didn't need to fight in the streets like the police officers did. He fought against something else. He fought against death when men like these had done their work.

The gunman came closer and pressed the muzzle hard on Banister's forehead. "And if I were you, I would tell us where the boys are." The man grinned and Banister swallowed hard. This was life or death and he would choose life. He nodded carefully.

"Good," the man said.

The muzzle was lifted away from his skin.

"The neonatal ward is above us. All newborns are brought there." Banister's hand began to shake. Maybe he could try to flee from them.

"After you, please." The man with the gun showed his perfectly white smile and raised his hand towards the door. Banister had no choice. He began to walk and left the room, the unconscious Diana and the dead mother behind him.

Patricia didn't know what to do. She struggled with her own feelings, with her own sense for right and wrong. ‘You can save billions of lives.' She could do that. End it before it even had started. The only thing she had to do was to eliminate the threat. But the threat was a baby, for God's sake! She stood next to the little bed for several minutes now looking down at the two boys who were so equal and so unique at once. At some point she had folded her hands and prayed for guidance. As ever, there was no answer. She sighed. When she wrapped the first boy into the blanket she could hear voices.

"It's over there." Banister said.

"Hurry up." Patricia didn't know the second voice but the sound of it scared her. She remembered what the man on the phone had said as well ‘They will be looking for him, too'. She was too late. She couldn't complete the task. The boy in her arms slept peacefully when she looked at him. He was hope. And Patricia wouldn't allow them to steal the hope as well. She looked around, her breathing increased. The room was too small to hide in here but it had a second exit in the back. She hurried over to the second door and left through it when Banister and the other man entered through the front. She leaned against the wall trying not to breathe, the boy pressed to her heart. She had left the exit wide open and so she was in danger if they decided to look for whoever who took the boy.

"This is one of the boys the woman gave birth to but I don't know where the other one is. Maybe they took him to feed him." Banister's voice sounded nervous. Patricia didn't know how these men had convinced him to show them the babies. Normally only direct relatives were allowed to see them. She pressed her lips together, so hard that it almost caused her pain.

Now the man began to yell. "Where's the other one? TELL ME! WHERE IS HE?"

"I told you I don't know." Banister's voice was shaking.

"Take this boy," the man said. Patricia didn't know if he talked to Banister or maybe to someone else that hadn't talked yet. She was too scared to take a peek around the corner.

Banister was scared. He had shown them the neonatal ward but it was still not possible for him to flee. And now one of the boys they looked for was gone. He had asked Mary and Kathy to bring them up here and they did what he asked because one of them was there, still sleeping in the bed. But the other one, where was the other one?

"Don't you dare play with us..." The man took a knife from under his jacket, came closer to Banister and began scraping over his nametag with the sharp metal "...Doctor Banister."

"I'm not playing with you." Banister was really scared now. The adrenaline in his blood system was consumed and it didn't feel as if his body would produce more anytime soon. "You see one of the boys is here. So take him if you want and let me go."

"Oh, we will take him yes, together with his brother. But you're right, you're no use to us any longer."

Banister was relieved. He could go now and as soon as he was out of harm's way he would call the police. When he realized what he had thought and that the men must have thought about that, too, it was too late.

The edge of the knife had cut through his throat. The blood began to pour out of the severe wound. He raised both of his hands to cover it but it was only an automatic reaction. He was fighting the inevitable now once more, death. The only difference was, it was his death this time.

His heart kept pumping the blood through his arteries and veins. The only problem was, the main artery at his throat was severed. The blood continued pouring out with every heartbeat his main organ produced. It increased its beating because Banister's brain demanded for more oxygen, oxygen that would never reach its destination. He sank to the ground, his other hand clenched into a fist. The wind howled on the outside of the building when he loosened his grip around his own neck. There was a death rattle in the back of his throat. Blood appeared on his lips and he fell forward and landed with his face on the floor. He was already dead before he could feel the pain this impact else would have caused.

Patricia held her mouth shut. Tears were flooding down her cheeks in torrents. The little baby boy in her arms was silent and didn't make the slightest whimper. She couldn't dare to move now. They were still there, looking for her and the baby. She had heard what they had done to him. Banister was a good man. He had done everything he could to save the woman's life, but he lost. And now he lost his life, too, because of these two boys. How many more had to die? ‘Billions!' it shot once more through her head. She had to escape and bring the boy to the old man. Patricia looked around and saw an exit sign at the end of the corridor that lead to the staircase. The neonatal ward lay on the third floor. She took a deep breath and then took her chance. She hurried past the door and ran down the corridor.

She regretted her decision immediately when she heard noise from the room. "Take him downstairs!" Patricia heard the man shouting, followed by a loud rumble. She looked over her shoulder and could see a man in a black suit exiting the neonatal room. His gaze fell on her and instantly sprinted in behind. She held the bundle tightly in her arms, never letting go of the boy within. She almost crashed into the door, but luckily, like every escape door, this one opened outwards. Her hip met the horizontal rod that was used as a door opener and without even decreasing her pace she hurried down the staircase.

Taking two or three steps at a time she had to concentrate not to trip. She could hear the door burst open when the man who was in pursuit of her entered the staircase as well. Patricia almost ran downstairs, the steps of the man coming closer and closer. He was faster than her because he didn't have to carry a baby at the same time. She saw the exit door to the first floor passing by and summoned up new courage. She was practically there. She could see the end of the stairwell.

She reached the end and opened the exit door. When she was past the threshold someone grabbed her hair and pulled her back. She spun around and saw the man directly behind her. Her heart broke. All was lost.

But she had come so far, how could she surrender now? She rammed her shoulder into the door, forfeiting some of her hair at the same time, and slammed it shut. The man howled with pain when his arm was caught in the gap. Patricia was free. When she ran through the lobby towards the entrance there were only some hospital staff present. No one would stop her now. She saw another man with a black suit entering the lobby as well. He exited an elevator and held something in his arm. Patricia knew that it was the other boy. The man began to run when his gaze fell upon her. She looked behind her and the other man had freed himself and took up the pursuit again, although he now held his arm and Patricia could clearly see the pain and hatred in his face. She realized it was even a desire to kill her.

She ran towards the big entrance doors, hopefully her exit to safety. Her heart was beating and her lungs began to ache. The wind was blowing hard in her direction, but she had to move on. Moving on, just moving on. The air was really cold and the snow that covered the short sidewalk down to the street made every step slippery.

There was a sudden bite at her right side. She ignored it and continued to run down the street. She had to move on. She had to keep the boy safe.

Running down the street it was as if the storm around her weakened. In front of her she could see the driving snow, but instead of running right through it, she only felt a light breeze. She somehow felt as though she was in a bubble. All around her the storm and she was protected in the middle. She looked down at the baby in her arms. The boy was still sleeping and wasn't aware of his surroundings. Or was he?

Her side burnt and she had to stop at the corner of a house. Patricia could feel the blood soaking her nurse's coat and the clothes underneath. She looked down. There was no blood at the front, which meant that the bullet was still in her. Holding the boy in her left arm she reached to her back with her right hand. When she looked at the blood, it was dark red, almost black. The liver. The bullet must have hit the liver. She knew what that meant. Without proper medical care the internal bleeding wouldn't stop. And her running made it even more severe. There wasn't much time left.

Patricia stumbled forward. Her heartbeat was still at a high rate. When she walked onto the street she wasn't aware of the headlights. She didn't feel the impact when the car hit her. She rolled off the hood and landed in a snowdrift. Her vision went black for a moment. She was tired. She would like nothing better than just going to sleep in the snow. It wasn't cold at all. It was pleasantly cool.

"Oh my god, are hurt? I didn't see you." It was a female voice. Two hands helped her to the sidewalk and then there was a gasp. "What happened to you? We need to get you to a hospital."

"No!" Patricia forced her eyes open. She could see stars. "No, I can't go there. They'll find him."

All the time she had kept the boy in her arms. The woman looked down at the small baby wrapped up in nothing more than a blanket.

"Is this your baby?" Her voice was warm and soothing. "We have to get him out of the cold as well." Patricia coughed. Her lungs burnt and she had no feeling in her back. She looked down at the boy and at the woman.

"Take him!" she begged.

"What?" the woman asked.

Patricia clung to the woman's forearm. "You have to keep him safe. Please." Her voice was not more than a whisper now. She reached into her right pocket and took out a piece of paper. With a pen from her breast pocket she wrote down some numbers. "Call this number." The woman took the bloody paper. Patricia swallowed hard. "He knows what to do. The boy's our only chance!" There was one last intake of breath and when she exhaled, the light in her eyes vanished like the air from her lungs, letting her life escape into eternity.

The storm had settled. When the woman stood up there were only some stray snowflakes left. She looked down at the dead woman in front of her and then at the little boy in her arms. He was so small, still a bit shriveled, but nevertheless, angelic at the same time. He just stared back from his gleaming blue eyes. It was as if he could see her. She knew this wasn't possible at all, because he was still too young to distinguish between different shapes but somehow he kept his stare. It melted her heart. How could she not keep this little angel safe? He was godsend. The fact that she couldn't get her own children had been hard to bear. Hard for herself and for her husband. Their marriage was near to an end she knew that, but maybe there was hope. She held the hope in her arms.