The Man From Mars - Episode Forty Two

   After our plane levels off and we reach a crushing height of maybe 40,000 feet. My chair seems to unlock and I begin swiveling around to get the first real close look at inside of this Billionaire's private jet.
   A green light blinks on, a few feet in front of me, right above a cabinet door, illuminating the words "Personal Private Bar."
   I unbuckle, jump to the cabinet, pressing a button which opens its door.
   I was expecting those little bottles you see on commercial airlines, but this was a fully stocked bar.
   An unopened bottle of 25 year old Chivas Regal was standing front and center.
   My favorite.
   Pulling out a glass, I find tongs to grab some ice, and see non-carbonated mineral water to splash on my whiskey.
   After taking a gulp, I say to myself out loud, "Man, I needed that."
   "Don't get too drunk." Says a voice directly behind me.
   The unexpected sound startles me so much, I jump back to my seat, spilling my drink along the way.
   "We are not out of the woods yet." Says the face I can now place the voice to. "Tiny believes we will encounter fighter jets if we are not too careful."
   It was the same Filipino man speaking to me. The same man on the airport runway, getting into the Mercedes. The same man at the safe house, warning use that the mercenaries were there. 
   I stare him up and down for a few minutes, then ask him, "Are you one of three? I mean, one of triplets?"
   "Actually, I am one of five. And we are all clones."
   I must have sat there dumbfounded, because he kept staring at me waiting for me to say something to him, or ask him something I guess.
   But I couldn't. It was a little too much for me to comprehend at that very moment.
   I heard it was possible, but I never thought anyone or any country had successfully down it with human beings before.
   Sure, everyone knows that cows, cattle, and chickens are all cloned today and no one seems to care.
   I also did a story once on the rich, affluent, one percent of the populace who quickly freeze their dead favorite cat or dog, fly it to South Korea, and come home with a perfectly healthy cloned pet.
   But human beings?
   I had no idea.
   The thought brings up all kinds of ethical questions. Like, do they share the same consciousness, or the same soul?
   "I am Lino by the way." The Filipino man says, interrupting my train of thought. "Tiny asked me to check on you. I will have Martha clean up your drink. And when Tiny feels it is safe enough, he will come back here to talk to you."
   Without saying anything further, or waiting for me to say anything further, Lino turns around and heads into the cockpit.
   Then, without me hearing anything over a loud speaker, a Filipina woman comes running up from the far end of the plane, with a cleaning bucket in one hand, and a rag in the other, kneeling down to wipe up my drink.
   Again I sat there stunned, by the realization that Martha here, must be the clone of the woman who was bagging up Akela. The dead woman, back at the safe house.
   How many were there of her? I couldn't bring myself to ask.
   Having another Scotch and water though? Now that was something I could do. And at the moment, do with great pleasure.

   With half the bottle gone, and with me goof-fully smiling at Lino and Martha as they periodically pass by me, the plane starts a slow descent.
   With me holding tightly onto my bottle of Scotch, I ask Martha, as she passes by for maybe the fifth time, "What's going on?"
   "The usual tactic." She explains. "We are to back track the way we came. Then zig zag maybe north, maybe south. Flying under the detection of radar."
   "Is that safe?" I ask drunkenly.
   "Only if we do not hit any trees, mountains, or power lines." She answers smiling.
   I take a large gulp of my Scotch for courage.

To Be Continued.....

Next Week.

This is,

Wishing I Had A Bottle Of 25 Year Old Scotch Right Now,

So I Can Do Some Research,

Jim Hauenstein,

And,

“I sipped my scotch. It was smoky and smooth, tasting of peat and aged oak, underscored by licorice and the intangible essence of Scottish masculinity.”
- Viet Thanh Nguyen, -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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