by B. C. CHASE
Gary had maneuvered around to beside the driver's seat and was able to use his weight to push the gun right into the man's teeth. As Gary began to try to thrust a finger into the trigger guard, the man suddenly used one arm to yank a handful of Gary's hair. As Gary reacted, the man wrestled the gun out of Gary's grasp and another round went off, putting a hole in the driver's window. Gary quickly regained maneuvering power over the weapon and pushed it into the man's gut. By cracking one of the man's fingers back, he was able to force a thumb against the trigger.
Gary fired.
The man's hands loosened and Gary raised the pistol to shoot him directly between his eyes.
The man fell forward, limp except for a twitch or two.
Gary was breathing heavily as he pulled back to sit in the passenger's seat. Blood was splattered on his trembling hand and his jacket. He dropped the gun.
He gazed at the body in disbelief. This had happened so fast. To know that he had just taken a human life . . . his mind reeled.
Gary moved to the back of the van to retrieve his own handgun. It wasn't even loaded. He had not intended to kill anyone. He only wanted information.
Certainly nobody would believe that: Not Jarred, the detective. Not Stacy. And not a jury.
Laboratory
Giza, Egypt
“So Amenhotep III was not Akhenaten’s biological father?” Doctor Katz asked.
“Correct. The DNA evidence from the sample is conclusive,” Doctor Kamil confirmed. “There is no possible way his father was Amenhotep.”
Doctor Katz, Doctor Kamil, and Layla were standing in a laboratory at one of the sprawling Ministry of Antiquities buildings at the new Grand Egyptian Museum in Giza. A row of gene sequencers lined the wall.
Doctor Katz asked, “Layla, do you have your family tree?”
She turned to her case and extracted the document:
Doctor Katz said, “So let me see if I understand correctly. In your version, Akhenaten was the son of Amenhotep III and Queen Tiye, the Elder Lady mummy.”
“Right.”
“But now the DNA you, Doctor Kamil, took from his leg, proves that he could not possibly have been Amenhotep's son.”
“Correct.”
“So if I did this, we would have an accurate picture:” Doctor Katz scratched out a line and added an arrow:
“Yes, that's right.”
Doctor Katz eyed the two women, “So that leaves us with one question: who was his father? What did the DNA have to say about that?”
Doctor Kamil sighed, exasperated, “That's what I was trying to tell you.”
Doctor Katz and Layla stared at her expectantly. She sealed her lips, breathing hard. Doctor Katz prodded, “And?”
“How much do you know about the human genome?”
Layla asserted confidently, “A lot.”
Doctor Katz shrugged, “Not a lot.”
Doctor Kamil said, “A human diploid genome has forty-six chromosomes with over twenty billion base pairs of DNA.”
“What is a diploid genome?”
“It is the genetic material extracted from a non-gamete cell, meaning a non-reproductive cell. Since I took the DNA from the mummy's bone, this was diploid and contains the genes from both parents. Had I extracted from the sperm, then I would have had a haploid genome. So a human haploid genome would have twenty-three chromosomes. The diploid has forty-six.”
“Okay.”
“So humans have forty-six chromosomes. The great apes have forty-eight chromosomes. Chicken have eighty. Mice have forty.”
“Okay . . . .”
“The mummy has forty-eight chromosomes.”
Doctor Katz's brows furrowed. Layla said, “I knew it.”
Doctor Kamil cast Layla a suspicious glance, “You knew it had forty-eight chromosomes?”
“I suspected it wouldn't have forty-six.”
“Why?”
“Did that mummy look fully human to you? Did any of the artwork depicting Akhenaten look normal?”
Slowly, Doctor Kamil nodded, “That is true.”
Doctor Katz said, “So you said the other apes have forty-eight chromosomes. Are you suggesting the mummy was an ape?”
Doctor Kamil shook her head, “Not at all. We share 98% of our genes with the other great apes, but in this case, the anomalies did not match genes from them.”
“Then what?”
“I don't know. I could not find matches for several of the genes. They are unknown to science.”
Doctor Katz folded his arms. “Is that unusual?”
“Yes and no. There are very many genes that are unknown to science. We have mapped only a tiny percentage of the genomes of life on earth. But among apes, we are relatively familiar. What this means is that the mummy's genome was not entirely human, but what it was, I have no idea.”
Doctor Katz narrowed his eyes, licked his lips. He shook his head, as if shaking off a bad dream. Then he said, “And you don't find this a little upsetting?”
Doctor Kamil said straight-faced, “That was one of Egypt's most infamous men was not a man at all?”
“Yes.”
“It terrifies me.”
Layla said, “I told you it wasn't a person. I could tell by looking at it.”
Doctor Kamil, looking very serious, said, “So what do we do about this? Whom do we tell?”
Doctor Katz chuckled, “That is easy. Nobody. We tell no one.”
Layla, puzzled, asked, “Why?”
“This is a career-killer. The moment we say Akhenaten wasn't human is the moment they slap us with the 'fringe science' label.”
There was a moment of silence as they pondered his words. Then Doctor Kamil said, “But couldn't this information have exceptional implications for . . . well, for everyone?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well isn't it important for the world's governments to know that one of the pharaohs was, well, wasn't human?”
Doctor Katz said, “If he wasn’t human, what was he?”
Doctor Kamil shrugged, “A different species of man’s family tree—like Neanderthal? A hybrid?”
“The truth is, if the world's governments were looking, they would already know that history is full of hybrid entities. And the fact that this pharaoh in particular was one of these isn't the least surprising.”
“Why?”
Layla seconded, “Yes, why?”
“Because he said so. The name he gave himself means living spirit of Aten. He knew he was not merely human. But there is also a corroborating source.”
“What is that?”
“The Torah.”
StarLine Regal Shanghai
“What were you thinking?” Henry swore into Jinkins' face.
“I mentioned it already, at dinner the other night, Mr. Potter,” Jinkins said, making himself as small as possible.
“That's odd, don't you think, since I wasn't as mad as hell then! You said we were 'opening soon!'”
“An entirely true statement.”
“And entirely deceiving! But regardless, to take this kind of unilateral action is totally unacceptable! I simply cannot believe this. I flick on my bloody screen at breakfast and what do I bloody see?” Henry pointed to the device in his hand, “'Highly anticipated resort to open soon!' And this: 'Paradeisia promises to become world's most visited destination!' Or here: 'World celebrities to attend grand opening celebration of Paradeisia, Eden on Earth.'” And look at this one, “'Paradeisia resort planning not-to-be-missed grand opening extravaganza.”
“Amazing, isn't it? I confess even I didn't expect it to make headline news. But, then again, I did hire the best PR firm in the business.” Jinkins chuckled.
Henry flew his hands up in Jinkins' face, “And everyone who comes to this 'grand opening extravaganza' is going to be sorely disappointed since one hasn't been planned! This is the absolute stupidest stunt I've ever seen. I am going to personally tie you to a chair and deliver you to your aunt, who will doubtless have you sing
for the queen!”
“But that's the thing of it, Mr. Potter. We have been planning the opening now for a year. Everything is prepared. We were just delayed by the money issues . . . and some other minor difficulties.”
“Well, now you have one major difficulty. I'd have to be burning in hell in order for us to open in seven days! Go fetch your suitcase, Mr. Jinkins, and be back here in five minutes. We're leaving!”
When Jinkins just stood there looking nervous, Henry shouted, “Now!” Jinkins turned, but before he took two steps Henry put a hand to his forehead and shouted, “But wait, wait, wait, wait! Come back here. I have a question. Who are these 'celebrities' anyway?”
Jinkins chuckled and rubbed his hands together in expectancy, “Oh, quite an impressive lineup indeed. Trust me when I say this opening extravaganza will be make the Academy Awards look like Sundance Film Festival.”
“Would have, you mean,” Henry chided.
Jinkins shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “Certainly, if you say so, Mr. Potter.” Then he walked out of the restaurant toward the elevators in the expansive lobby.
Henry turned to Maggie, “Have you seen Aubrey?”
“Yes. I knocked on her door on my way down. She was just coming.”
“Very well,” he said.
Aubrey's phone beeped. On the screen, she read the message:
MY PHONE HASN'T BEEN SANITIZED THIS MORNING. PLEASE HAVE THE SECONDARY READY WHEN YOU COME DOWN.
She couldn't believe it. What was wrong with this guy? It seemed like he was totally and completely insane. Or bipolar. Or something.
Fine. She'd have his “secondary” ready. She'd deal with him for as long as she could stand it, save some money, and leave when she just couldn't take him anymore. At the very least she could get a good reference from Maggie.
Aubrey stood tall as she walked straight towards Henry in the lobby. Staring straight at his eyes defiantly, she held out a freshly sanitized phone. Almost imperceptibly, he squinted one eye in perplexity, but she saw it. But then he took the phone without a thank you. He led her, Maggie, and Jinkins out to the busy hotel driveway which was canopied by a modern glass portico.
Before long a van arrived and Jinkins started to step in. But he stopped with one foot in because there was a flash of light followed by tremendous booming thunder. They all looked up past the edge of the portico to see a streak, like a jet trail, only much higher in the atmosphere and tremendously larger. This streak was suddenly accompanied by many others of various sizes spread out all across the sky. When each appeared, there was an incredible flash followed by the same boom. Then, the sounds they made were distant thunderings like a thousand rockets.
Everyone in the plaza stopped to gaze to the sky. Aubrey shook her head slowly and said, “What are they?” No one answered her question; they all simply stared in awe.
There was a light at the front of each trail that grew brighter with the descent. As it became apparent how fast the objects were moving, activity started to take place on the hotel plaza and down the street as people began to seek shelter.
Then, with another flash, the first object exploded in a globe of white smoke, thousands of small streaks shooting out the other side with one large one in the center. When the thunder from the burst came, it shook the very wind out of Aubrey's lungs and almost sent her sprawling to the ground. Her ears rang as she tried to regain her footing. A shower of glass from the canopy above came cascading down on them and she saw that poor Jinkins had fallen. As he struggled to stand she saw a stream of blood forming on his forehead.
To Aubrey's surprise, Henry rushed to Jinkins and helped him stabilize himself and then, with Jinkins at his arm, turned to Aubrey. “Are you alright?” he shouted, appearing to be genuinely concerned. She could barely hear him due to the ringing in her ears. She nodded in reply.
As they turned toward the shelter of the hotel lobby, another explosion rocked the plaza and nearly knocked them to their feet. Glass from the building showered down on them. Maggie jogged through the shattered door of the hotel, followed by Aubrey who turned to assist Henry as he helped Jinkins through. Behind them a continuous rain of glass had people sheltering their heads with their arms as they struggled to make it to the building.
“What’s going on?” Aubrey shouted as she rushed to an armchair where they helped Jinkins take a seat.
“I don’t know,” Henry said, watching Maggie as she set to work examining Jinkins. A continuous barrage of explosions had the gigantic modern chandeliers swaying from the high ceilings. Women were screaming as they tried to keep their balance. Henry said, “I’ll fetch a napkin,” and struck off toward the restaurant area.
Maggie held Jinkins' head and looked at his eyes, “How are you feeling?”
Jinkins said, “I'm alright, thank you. Don't know why I'm bleeding. I didn't hit my head that hard.” He laughed hesitantly, very unnerved.
Maggie examined his injury and extruded a piece of glass with her fingernails. “That's why,” she said, bracing herself against another blast.
Multiple TV's in the lobby were showing images of the streaking explosions in the blue sky. Aubrey saw one caption that read, “METEORITES EXPLODE OVER CHINA.”
When Henry returned, he handed a napkin to Maggie and breathlessly said, “Is he okay?”
“I'm fine,” Jinkins said as Maggie helped him press the napkin to his head. “Just a little glass is all,” he added, blinking the blood out of his eye. He was obviously in shock despite his attempts to make light of the situation.
Henry turned to Aubrey and said, “And you, you're sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” she asserted, but her teeth were chattering and her face was pale. Her hands were also shaking and Henry apparently spotted this because he took them and pressed them together in his. “It's fine. We're fine. A meteor shower is all.”
“A giant meteor shower, I’d say,” said Maggie.
Finally, the blasts subsided and a steady stream of bloodied people poured into the lobby from the street, crunching the glass all over the floor as they walked. A pair of men carried the limp body of a woman with a jagged piece of glass protruding from her neck. As they laid her on a sofa, one of the men began to moan, intermittently touching her arm.
“Is the meteor shower over?” Aubrey asked.
Henry said, “I certainly hope so, because I really want to get out of here right now.”
Towson, Maryland
Wesley had followed the soldier to the camp entrance where military personnel were clearing lines of people who were entering and exiting. The soldier told him, “She's waiting outside the line,” and motioned to a young woman standing some distance away on some muddy ground.
When he saw her, Wesley was struck with a reprimanding pang of guilt.
He didn't know who she was; had never seen her before, but he immediately appreciated her vivid beauty.
She wore a sunflower-embroidered cowboy hat over her thick braid of black hair. When she raised her head, her face became visible from under the brim: pure skin with almond-shaped, brown eyes, strong cheekbones, a delicate jaw, and full lips. She wore a shapely fur-lined coat, embroidered jeans, and high boots. Her figure was stunning.
He was still freshly reeling from his wife's death; the mere act of appreciating this woman's beauty felt like an abhorrent transgression against Sienna.
Wesley looked down and wondered who she was and why she had asked for him. He had a long time to wonder as he waited to go through the line and show his documented clearance.
When he got through, he stepped up to her. A slight blush was visible on her cheeks, from the cold. Her eyes narrowed and she said, “Peterson?” Even in that single word, a distinct South Carolina accent was evident in her strong, youthful voice.
“Yes,” he replied.
She stuck out a hand, searching his face as if unsure about him, “I'm Kelle.” When he shook her hand, he noticed not only how cold it was, but how tight a grip she had.
Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she said, “Do the initials J.K. mean anything to you?”
Wesley thought for a moment. He cycled through all the people he knew whose names started with J. It did not take long for him to hit upon Jarred Kessler. The thought sent a jolt of lightning through him. Had the detective found a clue to his wife's death? He replied, “Yes. Jarred Kessler. He's with the FBI.”
“Was with the FBI,” she corrected. “Jarred Kessler is dead. Come with me.”
She led him down a road lined with trees and colonial houses. Wesley was shocked by the large numbers of Humvees that roared by in a caravan. All their occupants wore biohazard masks with two filter rings.
As they cleared the top of the hill, they approached a retail row building with a sports store. The glass in one of the windows was knocked out and the door swung open freely. As they came up to it, she motioned into the darkness and said, “After you.”
Crunching the glass as he stepped inside, Wesley saw at once that the place had been ransacked. “I haven't been out of the camp since it opened, has a lot of looting been going on?” he turned around and froze at what he saw.
Kelle was pointing a Smith and Wesson revolver straight at his chest.
SaiLine Paradise
Doctor Ming-Zhen stood and followed the others as they went to the railing to look. Several floors down, on the marbled floor of the glass-covered atrium, a large woman was sprawled out with four terrorized children surrounding her and a man who, given the distress in his body language, must have been her husband.
The atrium included two walls of balconies towering over a shopping and dining plaza where people were scurrying in different directions. In the few moments that he stood watching, he saw another woman fall to the ground, clutching their stomach in apparent pain.
What was this?
He looked back at the dead girl laying on the carpet and thought of his daughter and wife. He ran towards the glass elevators, but saw a crowd already clamoring for them, seemingly in a panic. So he bolted for the nearby stairs, but as he ran down the steps, more and more people began to clog the staircases and the landings. There were shouts in many languages and some screams.
