The Maya 1.12

Previously On The Maya...

The Maya—a living legend covert operative-for-hire that no one she encounters can remember.

George Kirkegaard—a former newspaper owner forced out of business by state government.

Eugenio Stavros—a shipping magnate on a trip to the mysterious Isle of Use to renegotiate a steel contract.

Amara Barclay—a savvy, independent multi-millionaire entrepreneur and socialite with unparalleled beauty.

Mr. Tic and Mr. Snake—two U.S. government officials running off-the-books dark ops involving The Maya.

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Amara Barclay sits with George Kirkegaard, inquiring of who he is, why he's there, the fact that he has no clue where he's going—all without revealing anything about herself other than her outward appearance. Kirkegaard doesn't mind—it's been a long time since he's casually conversed with a woman. Barclay is about to go back to her chair, but Kirkegaard asks her to tell him more about the Island of Use, their destination.

She does that by beginning with the tale of Tuscon Sutton II.

And now...the next installment of The Maya.

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It was late November, 1929, a few days before Thanksgiving.

Summoned before a federal grand jury on multiple charges, among them securities fraud and stocks manipulation, Tuscon Sutton II became the scapegoat for the stock market crash. The case hinged on the testimonies of four of Sutton's best friends, all highly esteemed in their own right. When asked by the prosecutor if it were possible that Sutton used insider information to gain at least some of his wealth, to a man, they were unable to fully dispute the possibility. So, even though there was little more than circumstantial evidence against him, Sutton was convicted on all counts, and sentenced to sixty years in prison. His entire empire, totaling $11.5 billion, was to be confiscated, with the promise it would be doled out proportionally to those who lost money in the crash.

The headlines at the time screamed, "Justice Served!" "The Greatest Man of the East Has Fallen!" The media took great delight in a fallen hero. The reason for the feeding frenzy was due to the true nature of Sutton himself. Few had so far to fall. Not only was he wealthy, but highly regarded by competitors, peers, and employees alike. One of the many virtues he prided himself on was being honest in his dealings with his fellow man. No one wished him ill will, so the guilty verdict stunned the entire Eastern Seaboard, and the jaded journalists went crazy with the story.

That in and of itself, would have been devastating for any merely materialistic man, but at his sentencing, Sutton took it all in stride. "I came into this world with nothing," he was quoted as saying, "and I will leave her with nothing."

Even as the sentence was coming down, as his wealth was taken from him and his prison term set, a young man burst into the pandemonium of the courtroom with the only truly devastating piece of information for Sutton. Hundreds of miles south of Washington, DC, in the state of Georgia, a series of tornadoes had ripped through, doing relatively little property damage. However, among the thirteen confirmed dead that day were all of Sutton's ten children, who had gathered early for the annual Thanksgiving family feast. The walls had blown out on the oldest son's home, and the roof caved in on top of them.

Upon hearing the news, his wife, Lilith, wept uncontrollably, while Sutton had the look of a man who had just taken a sucker punch to the gut. One minute, he was standing tall, refined amidst the cat calls and condemnation, and then he was doubled over, the wind knocked out of him.

As he collapsed heavily into his chair, some say they saw him mouth the words, "The Almighty giveth, and the Almighty taketh away. Glory be to the Almighty."

If that weren't enough tragedy for Sutton to endure, the day he was to be admitted to prison, he contracted some kind of disease. No doctor could diagnose its cause, or prescribe a cure. All anyone could tell him was, his skin cells were degenerating and regenerating at an exceptionally rapid rate. It had the effect of instant aging, cycling from a young man of twenty-five, all the way to death. Before his flesh could completely decay, it would renew and Sutton would be reborn.

The process, aside from shocking and nearly impossible to watch, was excruciatingly painful. Still, Sutton was able to function without being bedridden. In fact, he no longer required sleep, and he didn't need to eat. Some referred to him as the Living Dead.

Upon learning the health condition of her husband, Lilith could take no more. She stormed the prison quarantine, and while gazing upon him in disgust and horror, yelled, "It's hopeless! Give up and die!" Having already moved in with her sister's family, Lilith became a recluse. Her intent was to live out her days in misery and die of a broken heart.

Fate, a harsh mistress, was not through with Sutton yet. The prison where he was to spend his sentence refused to take him in because of his unknown condition. He was turned away from a dozen more before it was decided he should just leave the country. Without knowing if he was contagious or not, and wanting to avoid an epidemic as well as the panic of one, officials granted him seventy-two hours to leave the United States. If he could find asylum elsewhere, he was welcome to go.

No other countries offered to take him in.

During those three days, his siblings got together and pitched in for a single engine prop plane. They all lived in America, so he couldn't stay with any of them. Thus, the idea was he could fly to his destination if and when he was green lighted to go. When asylum did not come, he was ushered into the plane by armed guard in Los Angeles, and took off in the only direction he was permitted to—out over the Pacific, into international waters. He had twelve hours of fuel, provisions for a week. The rest was left to luck or providence, whichever would take pity on him.

That was the last confirmed sighting of Tuscon Sutton II—just after dawn, Thanksgiving Day, 1929.

To this day, no one knows if he flew straight, or how far he went. It is supposed he kept his word and continued out into the ocean, but it is possible he deviated from his south, southeasterly course and ended up elsewhere, in the Gulf of Mexico, or perhaps the Caribbean. What was known was that he did not touch ground on American soil, and strangely enough, in circumstances like these, there were no claims of sightings of either Sutton or his plane over the mainland.

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'The Maya' now publishes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday in the evenings.

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