Genome

by A. G. Riddle

  They lay on the hard floor, staring at the court’s buzzing lights until the warm beads of sweat on their skin turned cold. He wondered if she regretted it. The act had happened so fast, as if they had been exploring a cave and had fallen down a shaft, desperately hanging on to each other, not knowing where the bottom was. Now they were at the end, where the lovemaking had led them, both staring up, not acknowledging each other, not sure exactly how to get back to the place they were before, or if they ever would.

  He didn’t know if he regretted it. He expected to, but he didn’t feel that, just the opposite. He felt more content than he could remember. He decided to gauge her.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  She smiled. “The fact that my Halloween costume has actually become a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

  He rolled onto his side and looked at her.

  “I have become the walk of shame. I went to a little get-together at what, frankly, sort of looks like a frat house. Things got out of hand. I got laid. And now, I’m going to be walking back to my car, hair disheveled, slightly skanky looking.”

  He shrugged and held the pose. “You’re not that skanky looking.”

  She punched him, harder than he expected, forcing him onto his back. She was on top of him again, leaning in to kiss.

  “Wait.”

  She stared into his eyes.

  “Do you… are you ashamed?”

  “No, Des. Not even a little.”

  “No bad decisions behind you?”

  “Not recently.”

  She kissed him and they started up, but he held her at arm’s length. “If we don’t get off this floor you’re going to be bruised all over.”

  She smiled, mischief in her cold blue eyes. “I’m okay with that.”

  He got on top of her. “I’m not.”

  He scooped her up in his arms, hefted her, and walked toward the staircase.

  She leaned her head back, roared with laughter.

  “What?”

  She wiggled free, landed like a cat who had jumped from a tree. “Sorry, my romance allergy was acting up.”

  He wanted to strangle her and yet, bizarrely, he was even more attracted to her. “I carried you to bed once.”

  She squinted and seemed to remember the morning he had come to her apartment, when she was exhausted from pulling an all-nighter, half-drunk after learning that she had been fired, and ended up passing out after consuming an inhuman amount of breakfast.

  “Oh, that. Well, it’s not like it was consensual.”

  He opened his mouth, alarmed.

  “And I never said thanks. But it was nice to wake up in my bed.” She stooped and grabbed her clothes, but to his surprise, didn’t put them on. She strode up the stairs and sauntered across the catwalk, still naked, without a hint of self-consciousness, like some Roman goddess who ruled the earth.

  She paused at the door and peered down.

  “You coming?”

  Chapter 42

  Desmond hadn’t expected it, but Avery spent the night. She slept naked, and that kept him up for a while. But he did sleep—eventually.

  He awoke first, and he was glad. He watched her, amazed at how some people looked different when they were asleep. Avery looked more delicate. Younger.

  He was sore from using muscles that had grown weak with disuse, and not just in his body. She was his first since Peyton. He wasn’t like most men; he hadn’t missed the sex. Maybe it was because he had sown so many wild oats in his younger years, in the rough and tumble time he’d spent with Orville.

  He couldn’t help but wonder what was next. He tried not to.

  In the kitchen, he set about cooking breakfast, a large spread—pancakes, eggs, grits, and toast. The same meal she had devoured that first morning they had met.

  She emerged with one of his shirts on—a blue button-up. And nothing else. The mascara from her Halloween outfit was faded from the sweat, but the outline was still there.

  She pulled several sheets from the paper towel roll, layered them four times, and placed them on the stool. Then she sat, taking in the plates of food.

  “I have something to admit.”

  He froze, spatula in hand.

  “I don’t have my wallet.”

  He exhaled, a laugh forming.

  “And even if I did, I don’t have any cash.”

  “Avery—”

  “I’m afraid your tip will have to be a sexual favor.”

  He let the spatula fall to his side. “We accept all forms of payment here at Hughes Manor.”

  Desmond expected things to change, but they didn’t. At Phaethon Genetics, it was as if nothing had ever happened between them. It drove him crazy. And the fact that it drove him crazy—the fact that he thought about it all—drove him crazier. She was a stone wall at work.

  After hours was a different story. She would text, always on days when she was done with her work, no deadline, and always with a simple question: What r u doing? or Plans tonight? or Dinner? or Rematch?

  He always said yes—because he wanted to, and because he didn’t play games, and because, frankly, he had nothing else going on. Rendition was done. He was waiting on Yuri and Conner to finish the trials. He didn’t understand what was taking them so long.

  He and Avery settled into a pattern. They spent a few nights each week together and most of the weekend. They played racquetball, they had sex in every room in the house, and they played cards—gin rummy mostly, her favorite game—in the library. They talked, but she never let him in. He tried. He came close once, on a Friday night when they were in his bed, both covered in sweat, the moon full, shining through the steel-clad windows.

  “Tell me about your parents.”

  She stared at the vaulted ceiling. “Not much to tell.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “My mom is dead.”

  “How?”

  “Car accident.”

  “When?”

  “My freshman year in college.”

  “My parents died when I was five. It turns your whole world upside down.”

  “Yeah.”

  He searched for the words. “It’s like… they were the Rock of Gibraltar. Unmovable objects. Constants in your life. Gone in the blink of an eye.”

  “On the way to the grocery store.”

  “At home. Doing housework. Herding sheep.”

  She exhaled. “I realized how dangerous the world was then. How anything could change. Any time.”

  “Your father?”

  “Alive.”

  “You keep up with him?”

  “I try.”

  He rolled to his side, looked at her.

  “He has Alzheimer’s.”

  “That’s what drew you to Phaethon.”

  “Among other things.”

  She was a black box, one he desperately wanted to get inside. The physical part had been the easiest. The real work was ahead.

  With each passing day, he watched as she changed. The worry lines on her face grew deeper. She texted him more often. Sex started at the door, her pushing him into the foyer, ripping her clothes off, like she needed it, like it was a drug that could cure her illness.

  They finished in the study one night, and he turned to her. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “Would you lie to me?”

  He thought for a moment. “Yes.” Before she could reply, he added, “To protect you.”

  Her expression changed then, to one he had never seen, a vulnerable expression, scared almost.

  “Then you understand. I have lied to you. But every lie I’ve told you was to protect you.”

  He stood, naked, the stacks of books behind him, the sconces glowing. “What are you talking about?”

  She got up and faced him. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I told you something that… changed everything you believe, would you still trust me
?”

  “Avery, what are you talking about?”

  “What if I had proof—if I showed you the world was not what you thought it was?”

  He took a step back, took her in, seeing her with new eyes. What is this? Was it personal—an admission like, I’m pregnant, or I was married before, or I have a child? No. It wasn’t any of those things. Or probably not. It felt different. More like business.

  “I think we’re past vague generalities, Avery.”

  “Are we?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Then tell me: what do you do?”

  “What?”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m an investor in high-tech companies—”

  “A person can read that on your website. What do you really do? What are you really working on, Des?”

  A chill ran through him. He took another step back, as if realizing he was in the presence of an enemy. “What are you asking me?”

  His phone buzzed on the card table. He was torn between staring at her and picking it up. Finally, he broke eye contact and glanced at the screen. A message from Conner. That surprised him.

  Need to meet. At pier eighty. On Kentaru Maru. Urgent.

  “I need to go,” he said absently.

  “Why?”

  “My brother. He’s back.”

  “Where is he?”

  He turned to her. “Why do you care?”

  Her intense expression softened. “Please tell me, Des. And don’t ask me why.”

  He knew it then: his life was at a crossroads. Telling her would cross a line beyond which nothing would ever be the same.

  She stood stark naked in his study, surrounded by the books that he loved, that he had kept in his private collection. He knew one thing: he trusted her. She was genuine and pure, and in the darkest reaches of his mind he knew that she would never hurt an innocent person. And he knew that Conner would, and so would Yuri—because the world had made them that way.

  And so he told her where Conner was, and before he could say another word, she had scooped up her clothes and left, running, not looking back.

  He knew the truth then: she was somehow his enemy. What he didn’t know was why she had been sleeping with him.

  “He’s out of the memory,” Dr. Park said.

  Conner leaned into the back of the van. “Is there another location?”

  Park tapped the smartphone. “Yes. It’s… What the—”

  “Save it, Doctor.” Conner turned to Major Goins. “Begin.”

  The major began barking orders, and the garage sprang into frenzied action. His men shoved the X1 troops they had captured into the vans and the Humvees.

  Many of Conner’s men were still spread throughout the house. Now the windows shattered as they fired, full auto, spraying the X1 vehicles on the street. They launched two rocket-propelled grenades, both of which found their targets, leaving the enemy’s two camo-clad Humvees in flames. Conner’s men then raced to the garage and climbed into their vehicles.

  The Humvee in the motor court roared forward first, barreling past the open motor court doors onto Austin Avenue, charging head-on at the blockade of X1 vehicles. The second Humvee went next, but it cut a donut in the motor court, slipped around the house, and bounced through the back yard, flattening an aluminum fence as it trounced into a neighbor’s yard. One van followed in its wake, then the Tesla sedan.

  That left one van remaining in the garage.

  To Goins, Conner said, “Good luck, Major.”

  Conner climbed into the van, gathered Desmond in his arms, and with Dr. Park and two soldiers surrounding him, stepped out and walked back into Desmond’s home. Desmond hung limp, helpless, the tubes running from him capped. Conner descended the back staircase, into the dank basement, with its red brick walls lined with empty wine racks and classic arcade machines: Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, Galaga. Conner stopped at the hidden door and pushed the brick in. Above, he heard the van crank and power out of the garage.

  He was first through the dark opening. The soldier’s lights guided his way into the man-made cavern. Dr. Park pulled the hidden door closed behind them, and the mercenaries released their sacks full of MREs, water, and weapons. They had enough to last for days. Conner hoped it wouldn’t take that long.

  From the catwalk, he looked down at the cavernous space, lit by the beams of their helmet lights. The racquetball court’s wood floor shimmered like an underwater lake.

  They descended and hid under the catwalk, just in case someone entered and did a cursory search.

  An hour later, Conner heard footsteps above, in the garage. He looked at his men, held a single finger to his lips, and clicked off his light.

  Chapter 43

  Yuri’s men were efficient and deadly. They activated the radio and satellite jamming arrays and rushed the visitor center. The reports from their suppressed rifles echoed across the green rolling fields as they moved through the parking lot and into the building.

  Yuri watched from a distance, through long-range binoculars, the muzzle flares like camera flashes in the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  When the all-clear was called, he walked across the hills with his personal security contingent, through the parking lot littered with dead bodies, and into the visitor center, where a small group of British and Spanish forces were tied and gagged. They’d be needed for radio communication—and as bargaining chips if it came to it.

  The commanding officer of the Citium Security forces was a Brazilian named Pablo Machado. Yuri walked close to the man. “You didn’t find them?”

  “They either left or they’re in the cave,” Machado said in a hushed voice. “We’re about to start interrogating—”

  “Don’t bother. By the time we get it out of them, it will be too late.”

  “So we’re going in?”

  “Yes. Assemble a small team. Your best. And hurry.”

  Deep inside the Cave of Altamira, Lin activated her radio. “Avery, come in.”

  “I’m here.”

  “We found it. Return to the rally point.”

  “Copy that.”

  Lin resealed the plastic container and handed it to Peyton. Without a word, she stood and began hiking away from the cave painting of the doe, now standing alone, the buck and fawn smeared from the stone.

  As Peyton walked behind her mother, through the cave’s dark corridors, holding the secrets her grandfather had buried so long ago, she felt that something had changed between them. Her mother’s secrets were out in the open now. All except for one: the truth about the code buried in the human genome. She wondered if that would be next. Or if her mother would continue to shut her out.

  Avery and Nigel were waiting on them in the hidden room. Despite the chill in the cave, Nigel’s brow was drenched in sweat and his cheeks were red.

  Chief Adams stepped forward. “We’re thirty minutes past due on our routine comm check.”

  “Proceed,” Lin said.

  Adams motioned to Rodriguez, who left in a jog.

  Lin called after him. “Tell them to send teams to carry these crates out.”

  “Does that mean you found it?” Nigel asked.

  “We did.” Lin took the container from Peyton and opened the top, the sound like popping a champagne cork. She took out the first page and scanned it. The words were German, handwritten. She flipped to the next page, then quickly rifled through the entire sheaf.

  “Mom, what is it?”

  Lin glanced over, as if remembering the others were there. “An inventory. As suspected.” She motioned to the crates. “They’re the missing pieces.”

  Nigel huffed. “Missing pieces of what exactly? I for one would like to know exactly what’s in there.”

  “We don’t have time—”

  “Mom. You owe us that much. And besides, if we’re separated… I think it’s better if we all know what’s going on.”

  “Very well. We’ll talk until the teams arrive.” Almost to herself, she whispered, “W
here to begin?”

  She set the pages back in the container.

  “First, you have to realize that Kraus came to his conclusion about the human genome over time. He had other theories that preceded it. His initial theory was that the rate of human evolution was accelerating.”

  “Punctuated equilibrium,” Nigel said, nodding. “He believed we’re in the midst of speciation.”

  “What’s punctuated equilibrium?” Avery asked.

  Nigel turned to her. “Seriously?”

  “Sorry, I taught tennis in college, not evolutionary biology. Is it like a deviated septum? I can show you what that is.”

  Nigel’s eyes grew wide.

  Peyton held up a hand. “Why don’t you tell us, Mom?”

  “Punctuated equilibrium,” Lin said, “is a theory proposed in 1972 by Niles Eldredge and Stephen Jay Gould. Before that time, evolutionary biologists had debated how new species developed. Most thought it happened gradually over time—what we call phyletic gradual evolution. But the fossil record doesn’t support that. It shows that when a species emerges, it is generally stable, with little genetic change, for long stretches of time. When evolution does occur, it happens rapidly—new species branch off in a relatively short period of time. On a geological scale, anyway.”

  “Why?” Peyton asked.

  “The trigger events for these periods of rapid evolution are a subject of debate. We know it happens when an organism is transported to a new environment.”

  “They’re forced to adapt to survive,” Avery said.

  “That’s right. Or if the species stays put and their environment changes, as occurred during the Quaternary extinction.”

  “That’s what they were studying on the Beagle,” Peyton said.

  “Indeed. The researchers found evidence that the Quaternary extinction was caused by two factors. The first was natural climate change on a global scale, specifically the end of the last glacial period, known popularly as the last ice age. If you want to get technical, we’re still in an ice age, one that has lasted millions of years—we’re just in an interglacial period at the moment. Anyway, at the time of the Quaternary extinction, the warming of the planet and retreating glaciers put many species at risk. Large animals that had evolved for cold weather died out, and those that survived fell prey to humans invading their environment. It’s hard to imagine the scale of this climate change. The ice sheets that covered much of Asia, Europe, and North America stopped advancing and started retreating. Within a few hundred years, an unimaginable amount of ice had melted—enough to raise sea levels thirty feet in places. If all the ice in Greenland melted today, it wouldn’t raise the oceans that much.