Altered Genes: Genesis

by Mark Kelly

  Mei smiled weakly. “We won’t know until we try. In theory, she should benefit from short-term passive immunity if either Lucia or I already have the antibodies in our system.”

  Simmons walked over and stood beside her. He rolled his eyes and gave her that look—the look that means I don’t agree with this but I might as well help. She mouthed a thank you to him.

  “How long has the girl been sick?” he asked the nurse.

  “This is her second day in the clinic.”

  “Good, that means she’s still in the early stages.”

  He looked at Lucia and then Mei. “The first thing we need to decide is whether or not to give her blood from both of you at the same time or to do it in phases.”

  “If we phase it and the first set of transfusions doesn’t have the antibodies, we run the risk of her dying before we can get to the second set. The upside of phasing it is if one of you has antibodies, we’ll know who it is.”

  He looked at Mei. “I’ve read the lab reports, but what was your real-world experience with the infection? How fast did it move?”

  She closed her eyes. Her first thought was of Lucia’s daughter lying on the hospital bed, crying in agony before she died a few days later. She took a deep breath and forced herself to think about the other patients she had seen at Bellevue.

  “Most patients died in six to nine days but a few went faster—usually the children.”

  Her eyes darted to Lucia, who was staring at her as she talked. Lucia swallowed hard and looked away.

  Simmons nodded. “Okay, let’s assume Kateri has six days in total—four remaining. She’s a teenager so that seems reasonable. If we phase the transfusions, we can do two days of blood from one of you and then two from the other.

  He stepped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll support whatever your decision is, but it’s your decision to make. Blend the blood or do it in phases?”

  The hollow look in Lucia’s eyes lingered in her mind as she thought about his question. “In phases,” she said finally. “If one of us has the antibodies, it’s the only way we will know who.”

  He gave her a tight smile. “That would have been my choice too. There’s one more to make? Whose blood do you want to start with?”

  “Use mine.” The words came from behind him. They were Lucia’s. Mei stepped around Simmons and looked at her. Their eyes locked. “I have to know if I could have saved my children,” Lucia said in the saddest voice Mei had ever heard.

  They had never spoken of her children. She walked to her friend and spoke in a whispered voice. “I did everything I could think of—nothing worked. I’m so sorry….” She felt the tears well up in her eyes.

  “I know,” Lucia said as she hugged her.

  MEI QUIETLY CLOSED THE DOOR, taking care not to wake the two men asleep in chairs by the side of the bed. It was the evening of the third day. There hadn’t been any change in Kateri’s condition. Lucia didn’t have immunity.

  She looked at the half-liter bag of blood in her hand. It was still warm to the touch. It was hers, taken just a few minutes earlier. She would sit in the chair again tomorrow morning and let the nurse fill another.

  As she hung the bag from the IV rack, the stand rattled against the metal headboard. The girl’s brother woke. She’d learned his name was also Michael, named after his grandfather. His father was the young boy who had visited Joseph’s restaurant with the old man in the sixties.

  “Sorry,” she said as she replaced the bags.

  He stared at the translucent tube and watched the dark red liquid snake its way into his sister’s body.

  “Is that yours now?”

  She nodded. They’d shared their plan with him. It was a race against time. Her best guess was the girl had a few more days left to live.

  The old man moaned in his sleep. Otetiani turned and picked up the blanket that had slipped off. He carefully wrapped it around the old man and spoke.

  “In his time he was a respected man but because he was a smuggler, the clan mothers wouldn’t recognize him as a chief—My grandfather was always leading, but never a leader.”

  He turned from the old man and fixed his eyes on her. “His only wish now is to see his granddaughter well again. Will he die disappointed?”

  She wanted to say no but the word wouldn’t come. In its place, an overwhelming sense of helplessness that threatened to drag her down into the same dark pit she had found herself at Bellevue.

  She hurried from the room before it swept her away.

  37

  THAT’S THAT

  April 20th, 22h50 GMT : Akwesasne, New York

  Simmons pushed his dinner plate away and wearily closed his eyes. The worn and beaten table they sat at with its chipped brown seats looked as if it had been dragged out of a school cafeteria.

  It was the evening of their seventh day and for the last week, they’d spent their hours locked in the Reserve’s community center, a windowless rectangular building with peeling gray paint on the walls and a faded linoleum floor. A flag like the one they had seen at the barricade hung limply from a silver display pole near the door. The inside of the building smelled of dust and mouse-shit. They were lucky if their guards let them out for a breath of fresh air twice a day.

  He watched Mei stare at the food on her plate and poke at it aimlessly. She’d eaten little and slept even less in the last couple of days. This was the first time she’d taken a meal with the group and was only there because he had dragged her away from the clinic.

  She wore the look of defeat on her face. The transfusions hadn’t made any notable difference in Kateri’s condition. Neither she nor Lucia had the antibodies.

  “You should eat something,” Emma said.

  He looked at her, unsure if she was talking to Mei or Saanvi.

  The two of them heard her and stabbed at their food. Neither had spoken during the meal.

  For Saanvi that was normal, she was quiet and withdrawn all of the time. He watched her spear a piece of meat and bring it to her face as if to inspect it. “It isn’t very good, is it?” she mumbled and he had to strain to hear her.

  “Pardon?”

  She looked at him with her sad round eyes. “That’s what Dr. Brar said to me. He’s probably dead—like Dishita, Mom and Dad too. Everyone’s gone.”

  “Who’s Dr. Brar?”

  The corners of the girl’s mouth turned up as if she were remembering a joke. “Dishita’s brother. She said I fancied him but he was my doctor in the hospital.”

  Mei looked up, curious. She turned to Saanvi and spoke.“Why were you in the hospital?”

  “I had an infection.”

  “What kind?”

  “In my intestines.”

  Simmons felt his stomach turn over. It couldn’t be. He leaned in towards her and forced himself to speak calmly. “Sounds nasty, do you remember what it was? Saanvi, was it Clostridium difficile? Did they call it C. diff?”

  She nodded and began to cry. “Dr. Brar said I might have got it because of my pneumonia.”

  “How did he treat you? What did he do?”

  She spoke between sobs. “The Chinese called it yellow soup.”

  Yellow soup?

  He frowned and looked at Mei. “Any idea what she’s talking about?”

  Gong spoke. “Perhaps she means Yellow Dragon Soup. It is an ancient treatment for stomach ailments. It was written about by Li Shizhen. He was one of China’s most famous doctors from the Ming Dynasty.”

  Simmons’s eyes darted between Saanvi and Gong. “What is it? Can we make it here?’

  Gong gave him an apologetic look. “I do not know how.”

  Damn.

  “Do you know what’s in it?”

  Gong’s lip curled up in a look of disgust as he answered. “Human feces—among other things.”

  Simmons grabbed Saanvi as he realized what Gong was talking about. “Saanvi, did the doctor perform an FMT procedure on you?”

  She nodded.r />
  He dropped his hands from the girl’s shoulders and spoke to Mei. “I don’t understand how that would have cured her unless it completely wiped her gut clean. Even so, she’d still be at risk of re-infection unless—“

  He jumped to his feet.

  “Unless the donor had immunity and the immunity was somehow transferred.” He stopped and fixed his gaze on the girl.

  “Or maybe her immune system was already hard at work creating antibodies and the FMT gave her enough time to develop immunity.” He thought about it for a few more seconds. “Either way, you may be immune.”

  “Saanvi, you have no idea how special you are.” He kissed her on the top of her head.

  He turned as the door to the community center opened. Michael Otetiani and two of his men stormed in. All three carried rifles slung over their shoulders. Otetiani marched across the wooden floor. The sound of his steel-toed boots echoed off the walls. His jaw was clenched as he walked by everyone and stopped in front of him.

  Simmons felt the man’s angry eyes, dark and accusatory, burn a hole through him.

  “There are men at the barricade threatening my people. They are looking for you. Who are you?” The Indian edged closer, almost nose to nose. “Why do they want you so badly?”

  It had to be Raine’s men. He looked Otetiani in the eye and spoke boldly. “Because I know the truth. I know what the bastards have done.” He told Otetiani about Raine and the North Koreans.

  Otetiani scowled and spoke. “That man and anyone who helped him should die, but you have brought trouble to my people.”

  Mei pushed her way between the two of them and pointed at Saanvi. “We just discovered she was sick and recovered. There’s a very good chance she has immunity. It might be possible to pass it on to Kateri.”

  Otetiani gave her a scathing look. “You’ve said that once before—and lied, why should I believe you this time?”

  “Because we both know what will happen if your sister dies,” Mei answered. “You said it yourself—we all lose.” She stood in front of the much larger man with her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Just give us one more chance.”

  He studied her for a second and then turned his attention back to Simmons. “I’ll tell my men to tell the strangers we haven’t seen you—that we will keep our eye out for you. But if my sister dies, you will be handed over immediately.”

  “Take them to the clinic,” Otetiani said to his men. “I’m going back to the barricade.”

  Gong rose from the table and spoke. “I will assist you there.”

  Otetiani stopped and gave Gong a disparaging look. “We can take care of it ourselves.” He gestured to one of the men. “Help him back to his chair.”

  “I have skills that will be of use to you,” Gong said and folded his arms across his chest.

  Simmons watched as one of the men walked towards Gong and prodded the Asian with his rifle. Gong turned and took a half-step towards his chair as if he were submitting. Suddenly, in one fluid motion, he pivoted on his left foot and twisted. He wrapped his right arm around the man’s throat in a chokehold and used his left hand to pull the man’s pistol from his holster. He held it to the man’s head.

  The second man raised his rifle and pointed it at Gong.

  “Tell him to lower his weapon,” Gong said calmly to Otetiani. “I am not interested in harming anyone here.”

  Otetiani studied him for a few seconds. He waved his hand, motioning for the rifle to be lowered.

  Gong released the man and stepped back. “Shall we go now?” he said and walked to the door without waiting for a reply.

  THEY RUSHED into the clinic’s lobby. Mei’s eyes darted back and forth as she searched for the nurse they had met on their first day. The nurse’s name was Waneek. Mei had come to learn that Waneek and another nurse worked alternating twelve-hour shifts—two women doing the work of five or six.

  “She’s probably in the clinic. Wait here while I get you a gown, gloves, and a mask,” she said to Simmons and Saanvi.

  The thick plastic curtain separating the lobby from the inside of the clinic scraped against the doorframe. Waneek walked through it. She pulled her mask down over her chin and nodded when she saw Mei. “You’re back—I thought you were taking a break?”

  Mei shook her head. “There’s something we want to try.” She pointed to the other two and Waneek’s eyes widened when she saw them. “Are they sick?” she asked and scrambled to replace her mask.

  “No—they’re both fine…better than fine actually. This is Saanvi. Tony thinks she might be immune. We’re going to try and transfer her immunity to Kateri.”

  “Hmph…you mean immune like you and that other woman?” Waneek said.

  Mei bit her lip at the sarcasm.

  “I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that.”

  Yes, I did. She squeezed the nurse’s arm. “Don’t worry about it. I was wrong about me and Lucia, but Saanvi is different—special. She was infected and recovered.”

  Waneek pressed her lips together and stared at the girl. “Never heard of such a thing,” she said skeptically.

  “Okay, so what now, Tony?” Mei asked. “Are you sure you know what to do?”

  He shook his head. “No, not completely, but I don’t think it’s overly complicated. We’re going to need a few things to make this work; distilled water, medical-grade salt—maybe the kind used for nasal rinses, an enema kit, and a blender.”

  “Do you have all of that here?” he asked Waneek.

  “All of it but the blender. My house is nearby, I can go home and get it.” She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “What do you need it for?”

  “We’re going to make a poop smoothie.”

  She eyed his deadpan face with a stunned look on her own and then laughed. “Ha! Good one, you had me going there for a second…What do you really need it for?”

  It was his turn to smile. “A poop smoothie.” He winked and explained.

  She shook her head when he finished. “I’ll be back with it in ten minutes, but the damned tribal council better buy me a new one because I’m not taking it back home after this.”

  It didn’t take her ten minutes to fetch the blender, she was back in six, huffing and puffing like a steam engine as she staggered through the door. “Here…you…go,” she said and handed it to him.

  He took it from her and filled the blender’s jar to the top with boiling water from the kettle they had put on when she left.

  “We’ll let it sit for a couple of minutes to disinfect and then I’ll empty it and add a liter of distilled water and a teaspoon of salt. That should get the mixture reasonably close to the salinity of the human body.”

  When the time was up he emptied the hot water and handed the jar to the Saanvi.

  She looked at the jar suspiciously. “What do I do with this?”

  “Poop in it.”

  Her eyes shot open, wide as saucers.

  “Tony—don’t be an idiot!” Mei shouted.

  She frowned and took the jar from Saanvi. “Come with me, we’ll figure something out.”

  They disappeared behind the closed door to the toilet but reappeared after only a couple of minutes.

  “This isn’t going to work. Do you have any sterile sheets of plastic?” she asked Waneek who shook her head.

  Mei closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as she thought about it. “Okay, what about medical sample bags?”

  Waneek nodded. “How many do you need?”

  “Enough to make a square about two feet by two feet.”

  “And some tape and scissors,” she added.

  The nurse ran to the rack and searched through the boxes until she found what she was looking for. She handed everything to Mei. “Sorry, these are the only bags we have.”

  Each one was about two inches wide by four inches tall. We’ll need a lot of them, Mei thought as she handed Simmons the scissors. “Here, make yourself useful. I need seventy of them cut open down one side and along t
he bottom.”

  The four of them formed an assembly line. Simmons and Saanvi cut the bags open and flattened them while Mei and Waneek taped them together

  When the job was complete, Mei and Saanvi disappeared back into the toilet with the plastic sheet they had made. A minute later, Mei stepped out and closed the door.

  “Well?” Simmons asked.

  “Well, what?”

  You know.” He shrugged his shoulders towards the door. “Did she do it?”

  She raised her hands in exasperation. “For god’s sake, Tony, she’s not a machine with a button you push and out it comes.”

  Ten minutes later, the door opened and Saanvi reappeared, her face beet-red.

  “Okay?” Mei asked. The girl gave her a quick nod.

  Mei smiled and handed Simmons the blender’s jar and a pair of rubber gloves. “Here you go, Tony. Go get it.”

  He clenched his jaw and marched to the toilet. A minute later he was back, a grim look on his face. He attached the jar to the top of the blender and screwed the cap on.

  “Make sure it’s tight,” Mei said. God help us if it isn’t.

  He scowled and gave it an extra twist.

  She watched as his finger lingered over the push-button. He grimaced and pushed the button labeled puree. The screeching sound of the blender filled the room and they all looked away as the witches brew of feces, distilled water, and salt mixed together.

  After a couple of minutes, he stopped it and carefully filled the enema bag with the brown slurry. Saanvi turned and ran to a garbage can. The sound of retching filled the room.

  He handed the three-quarter full bag to Mei. “My work is done, now it’s your turn,” he said with a smile.

  She glared at him, took it and disappeared behind the plastic curtain with Waneek.

  They would treat the girl until she was cured—or dead.

  38

  OUTNUMBERED

  April 20th, 23h50 GMT : Akwesasne, New York

  Gong stood on the barricade and looked down as a third humvee arrived to join the two already parked below. They were military vehicles but the men they held were not. Paramilitary, he thought as he studied them.