†
Dr. Christine Dawkins was at a loss. She’d been working in Paula’s private lab on the problem of the dormant R89 gene nonstop for the last three and a half weeks but she was still no closer to understanding why it had not remained activate as it was designed to do. However, the more troubling setback was the fact that Galen appeared to be aging at an even more accelerated rate. The rate was initially set at a 7:1 ratio, meaning D aged seven days for every one that passed, but now he seemed to be on a 10:1 pace. The change was no less infuriating than why the R89 gene, though initialized, remained blatantly ineffective. The dual problems were enough to keep Christine awake most nights, and tonight, though it was nearly three in the morning, was no exception. She tried not to wake Adam as she’d crept past the couch and out onto the balcony. During the first few weeks of her nocturnal wanderings, he almost always woke to a state of semi-consciousness, but lately he’d grown accustomed to her nightly forays and would only turn over as she crept into the kitchen for something to drink. Lately she’d been slipping a little Amaretto into a mug of hot chocolate. It warmed and relaxed her, helping her to categorize her thoughts and occasionally even to become sleepy once again.
The night was nearly silent with only an occasional car passing by on Skinker Boulevard some twenty stories below. The wind was light and blowing softly through the trees of Forest Park which was mostly a large dark patch in the foreground before the lights of St. Louis tore at the darkness once more. The park was a godsend and allowed both Adam and Galen a modicum of freedom in the endless game of waiting the two had to endure. While she did her research, the boys had little enough to occupy their time, and while Paula’s apartment was fabulous and contained all the amenities, it soon began to feel more like a prison than a sanctuary. The park allowed Adam to stretch his legs. Most mornings he would rise very early and run nearly seven miles around the perimeter of the park and it wasn’t long before Galen begged to go along. After only a bit of hesitation both Christine and Adam agreed. The boy tried hard and though at first he struggled, he was young and soon managed to keep up with his older counterpart with ease.
Having the park so close by helped, but Christine knew that they would have to find a more permanent solution soon. They could not rely on Paula’s hospitality indefinitely, intrigued and smitten though she was with Galen. In fact, the entire building seemed to be smitten with Galen. Of course there were relatively few children residing within the Dorchester Apartments, which made him special, but Christine got the distinct impression that the goodwill lavished on the boy was for another reason entirely.
“I feel better with him here,” Paula confided in a whisper just the day before. “He’s my lucky charm. I haven’t had a migraine during your entire stay.” Paula added, trying to convince her friend that her stay was no imposition. She liked having them here; they felt like family.
Christine however, felt a bit guilty. She’d told Paula about manipulating Galen’s genetic code, and about the government’s threat to terminate him, but she had yet to confide in anyone about just where the initial sample of DNA originated. The truth was just too incredible and too fanciful to be believed. And something deep within Christine told her that it would be very, very dangerous for Galen’s origins to become common knowledge. Fanatics on both sides of the equation would be drawn to the boy for good or ill. So she’d kept that information carefully concealed, she’d also failed to mentioned the fact that she’d used sections of her own DNA to repair the damaged original.
To Paula, Galen was just an innocent victim, trying to live out his life while others were trying to take it away from him, but even so, what Christine had revealed to Paula boggled her mind; Galen was an engineered human being and the government was hunting him, attempting to terminate his short life.
“He’s sweet, gentle and kind,” Paula insisted. “Who would want to kill him? Hell, I’ve only known him a few weeks and I’m drawn to him. He fascinates me,” she admitted and then suggested they travel up to Chicago and visit her uncle John Stanfield, who was locally famous. He had his own column in the Tribune, and a weekly news show on WGN, but Christine reluctantly declined. She would never reveal the truth about Galen, people were too unpredictable. The implications of Galen’s genetics frightened her a little even though she knew her fears were baseless. As a religious artifact, the Shroud of Turin had been scientifically debunked several decades ago. It had been carbon dated and found to have originated in the mid to late fourteenth century, well over a thousand years after the death of Jesus. But if it became common knowledge that Galen’s DNA sample originated from the ancient covering, people would jump to irrational conclusions and that frightened her above all else. The general population was skittish enough about genetics, their fears fueled mostly by ignorance and misinformation, add religion to that mix and Christine was afraid the consequences would be catastrophic.
Christine shook her head in the darkness of the balcony as she considered her friend’s words. Galen was sweet, gentle and kind and he deserved a life. She took a deep drink from her cup, relishing the soft bite of the Amaretto. Paula’s reaction to Galen was not an isolated example. The doormen, the in-house maids and many of the residents seemed to be unusually drawn to the boy. Whoever and whatever Galen was, he had a strange power over people and it was that power that worried Christine. If they were going to remain safely hidden from the people searching for them, they would do well to attract as little attention as possible.
Christine sighed. All this worry was pointless if she couldn’t solve the problem of the R89 gene. Galen’s body had aged nearly a year since they’d fled from Cryogen and if his aging continued to accelerate he may only have a few years remaining on this earth in any case. If the acceleration continued Galen would die young, the human body, especially the heart, could not take the strain of such accelerated aging for an extended period. Even if nothing at all changed, her best guess was that Galen would die before his body reached the age of forty. His heart would just give out and for Galen the age of forty was just three short years away.
‘I have to find an answer!’ Her mind screamed and tears began to slowly slide down her cheeks. She felt helpless…no answers were forthcoming.
A short time later a truck downshifted below and Christine came awake with a start and nearly dropped her mug. She climbed slowly to her feet and quietly slipped back inside. Moments later she crawled back under the covers. Galen stirred but did not wake. He rolled over as she settled in next to him, and in a sleepy daze he reached out and cuddled up closer to her. Christine smiled, feeling the warmth of his small body, and without any effort her mind gave up its questions and she slept.
†
“They’re in St. Louis,” Agent Demond told Cord Armstrong, his superior and the head of the task force assigned to finding and eliminating the failed Cryogen experiment.
Everyone in the command trailer went silent. Cord turned from his computer slowly and looked to his chief intelligence officer. “You’re positive?” he asked with an accusatory glance at the man standing before him. It was Charlie Demond’s conclusion that Dawkins and his party would flee to the Mexican border. The conclusion was incorrect. The fact that Armstrong had agreed with it at the time did not absolve Demond of the stigma of failure. Failure was not something Armstrong tolerated lightly.
“It’s been confirmed,” Demond answered confidently. He was anxious to catch this Dawkins. The man was obviously crafty and they’d seriously underestimated his abilities, but they were finally on to him. It would be a simple matter now to find and eliminate the boy…and if Demond had his way, the brother and sister as well. Armstrong’s operational team was utterly black, backed ostensibly by the NSA and Homeland Security, but they were currently under the control of the DOE. Occasionally, in defense of the country, even US citizens found themselves in the crosshairs. It was certainly not common or desirable, but it was not unheard of. When it came to matters of homeland security the American people
were not always innocent or immune, and the boy was now considered to be a matter of the highest national security.
“Alright people we have a location on the target,” Armstrong bellowed. “We have anyone in St. Louis?”
Agent Rebecca Collier gave the negative sign. “Agent Sommers out of Chicago is the closest,” she answered.
“Get him there with his team,” Armstrong ordered and then turned once again to Demond. “Where’s the intel coming from?”
“The FBI,” Demond answered.
“Shit…Charlie,” Armstrong yelled and rubbed a hand across his face.
“I was tracking the major genome labs across the country, including the one at Washington University. It’s top notch,” Demond explained quickly before Armstrong exploded. “I’ve a friend in the bureau out of St. Louis, had him check it out. Turns out Dr. Dawkins’ college roommate works at Barnes Jewish in St. Louis and she has visitors, a couple with a young boy.”
Armstrong remained silent for a moment, his cold green eyes boring into Demond’s as he considered this new information.
“Get the rest of the team up from Dallas,” Armstrong finally ordered, “and let’s get a move on. I want to be set up in St. Louis by tomorrow afternoon.”
Everyone in the trailer immediately began to shut down any none essential equipment. Most would stay aboard and ride behind the semi that would pull the command trailer to St. Louis, but a few would fly out ahead and get a lay of the land.
†
“I just don’t understand,” Christine admitted that evening to Paula. The boys were heading to the loop to pick up Thai food for dinner, so the two doctors had at least a few moments to discuss the situation in private. Paula was a huge help to Christine and because she was a doctor Christine could bounce ideas off of her without having to continuously explain the basics as she did with her brother. “He’s aging very rapidly and without R89 there doesn’t seem to be any way to stop it.”
“Have you tried ionized radiation on R89…maybe jumpstart it into activating?” Paula asked and then jerked as the doorbell rang.
Christine shook her head, eyeing the door suspiciously. “I’d like to expose Galen’s DNA to as little radiation as possible,” she replied as Paula moved through the kitchen and into the foyer.
Paula peeked through the spy hole in the door and smiled.
“It’s Harold, the night watch,” she said and smiled reassuringly back at Christine. Paula pulled open the door and was surprised to find someone with the elderly man.
“Hello Ms. Ratner,” Harold began, clearly uncomfortable. He had his hat in his hand and his gray hair was a bit tousled; his eyes strayed into the interior of the apartment for a moment before coming to rest on Paula’s face. Paula was curious about the visit, for Harold rarely wandered the halls, but she was more curious about the elderly woman in the wheelchair who waited directly behind the man. Harold noticed her gaze and cleared his throat.
“This is Georgina, my sister,” he said and the woman rolled forward a bit so that she could see Paula more clearly. The woman was old, but clearly younger than Harold. Why she was confined to a wheel chair Paula could not say, but she quickly realized that the reason for the visit was probably a medical one.
“What can I do for you Harold?” Paula asked just a little annoyed that Harold would impose on her private time.
“I…” Harold began, stammering a little. He tried to peek past Paula once again and see into the apartment. Paula frowned at him. “I was wondering if we might speak to Galen a moment.”
Paula’s frown deepened. “Galen?”
“Why do you want to see Galen?” Christine asked coming up from behind Paula actually stepping through the threshold, effectively blocking the doorway. Warning bells were now going off inside her head, softly at first, but they were growing steadily louder.
Harold seemed a bit taken aback by Christine’s aggressive manner and even took a small step backward. He appeared to be losing heart, but then he glanced at his sister. She was looking up at him, her eyes pleading for him to go on.
“Well Miss…there’s been talk,” Harold began.
“Talk…talk. What kind of talk?” Christine asked bluntly, the warnings in her head now screaming at her.
“Well…” Harold said but stopped as the elevators down the hall opened. After a brief pause Adam and Galen stepped out, each loaded down with brown paper bags containing their dinner. Harold smiled and turned away from the two younger women.
“It’s him,” he whispered to his sister, who nodded but her eyes never left the young, olive skinned boy who was steadily walking her way. Harold moved behind her chair and began to push it slowly in Galen’s direction.
Christine moved out of the doorway so she was directly behind the pair. Adam smiled to his sister, but then recognized the fear in her eyes.
“Adam…bring Galen inside,” she said, but the boy was already smiling happily at the approaching pair.
“Hello Mr. Carmichael,” Galen said brightly and skipped forward. Paula absently wondered how the boy knew the man’s last name. Hell, she only knew him as Harold.
“Hello Georgina,” Galen added to the woman before any introductions were made. Paula gasped and Christine abruptly began moving after the elderly couple.
“I told you so,” Harold whispered, a large smile on his face.
Adam took a quick step forward and put a protective arm around Galen, but he recognized the night watchman and neither he nor the woman in the wheelchair seemed to pose any real threat. He turned back to his sister, a puzzled look on his face as Georgina held out a hand to Galen.
“Galen!” Christine said loudly as the boy reached out to grasp the old woman’s hand. He paused and looked up at Christine. He stared into her eyes for what seemed a long time before smiling again. “It’s alright,” he answered then ever so gently reached out and shook Georgina’s hand.
“I’m very pleased to meet you Georgina,” Galen said in a very formal way.
Georgina nodded and gripped the boy’s hand firmly, beads of sweat standing out on her forehead. “Is it you?”
Galen only smiled and nodded, “I’m Galen…Galen Dawkins,” he answered and tried to pull away but was held in place by the woman’s grip. Adam was about to move forward when she suddenly released Galen’s hand and glanced up and back at her brother.
“You were right, I do feel better,” Georgina said as Adam steered the boy past the pair and over to Christine, who reached down and snatched up the boy’s hand…it was very, very warm. She pulled him toward the apartment. Paula was still mostly in the doorway where she’d intently watched the entire encounter. She backed inside as her three visitors reached her. Christine tried to push Galen gently in the door but he resisted for a moment and came to a stop. He looked back down the hall at Harold and his sister; both had turned and were now watching his every move.
Galen smiled at them both. “Goodbye,” he said with a smile. The two smiled back, happy for the meeting, their suspicions confirmed.
“Goodbye,” they replied in unison and then Galen allowed himself to be steered inside.
†
“Paula…feel his hand,” Christine said once the door was closed and locked behind them. She was holding up Galen’s right hand by the forearm. Paula reached out and took the boy’s hand…it was warm…nearly hot.
Paula frowned. “From the food?” She asked, but Christine was already grabbing up the bag. She felt the bottom for heat and shook her head.
“No…it feels like your hand did. You know that day I thought you might be sick,” Christine replied.
“Come on ladies,” Adam pleaded, though he was feeling a bit shaky from the meeting as well. “Galen and I had to smell the food all the way from the restaurant. We’re hungry aren’t we sport?”
Galen smiled up at Adam. “It smells good,” Galen confirmed.
“Adam…” Christine began, but he shot her a look. “Later…after we’ve eaten,” he replied sternl
y. She was about to protest but then looked down at Galen who was eagerly waiting for his food.
“Alright Adam,” she conceded and Galen looked up at her and smiled. She smiled back tentatively but dinner was tense and quiet. When they were all finished, Christine stood and reached for Galen’s hand.
“Come on Galen, let’s go in the other room,” she said trying to smile. Galen studied her a moment then frowned, but he went willingly.
“Television,” Adam said as they moved out of the kitchen. Christine nodded and they all moved out into the living room. Galen followed Christine across the room and to the hall that led to Paula’s room and the back television set, but he pulled his hand out of hers at the last moment and turned around.
“Don’t be afraid,” he told them all and smiled again, then he glanced up at Christine and his smiled faltered. He took her hand and without another word went into the master bedroom.
Adam and Paula remained standing in the living room. They heard the T.V. come on, heard the channels change and then Sponge Bob, the sound grew suddenly quiet and then Christine joined them. The three stood staring at each other for a long moment.
“We have to move,” Adam said suddenly and the spell was broken. Christine sat down slowly on the very edge of the sofa.
“But why?” Paula asked more distressed than she ever thought possible. Over the years she’d grown accustomed to living alone. She even secretly feared that she was growing too accustomed to it and if she ever did meet the right guy it would be too late. She was afraid she’d be set in her loner ways, unable to live with another person without being driven absolutely crazy. But the thought of Adam, Christine…and Galen leaving her home now only filled her with a deep sadness.
The Best of All Possible Worlds Page 15
