The Rise of Walsanto (Genetic Apocalypse Book 3)

by Boyd Craven Jr

  “That would be of concern to me. You know they have ways of keeping tabs on people, especially a high ranking Presidential advisor,” Jim said.

  “There’s more to that story than I’ve told you,” Rusty admitted. He’d been wanting to spill the beans to Jim, about Hannah being his daughter, and unload the mountain of guilt that had been heaped up on his shoulders since he’d met her. The opportunity was right in front of him.

  “Maybe it’s better if I don’t know.” His voice was guarded, something that was unlike Jim Ward.

  “It’s not that bad. The researcher. I met her. Her name is Hannah.” He was forcing the words out, knowing that judgment would be coming his way as soon as they were out. He hesitated, then closed his eyes and spilled the last part. “I think she’s my daughter.”

  “Your daughter?” The surprise in Jim’s voice couldn’t have been hidden.

  “Yeah.”

  “But how? You and Taylor never had any kids.”

  He and Taylor had been married briefly, but that hadn’t lasted very long. Jim had known Taylor well. She and Rusty had hung out a little with Jim and his wife.

  “Well, way before I knew Taylor, I dated a girl named Catherine Withers. We didn’t date long, before we realized that what I wanted in my life and what she wanted in hers were polar opposites. When we parted ways, we just didn’t see each other again. I heard a rumor later on that she was pregnant, but I didn’t believe anything the person I heard it from said. Catherine herself never contacted me. Years later, I heard that she had had a child, but it never dawned on me that that child was mine, Jim. Never once.”

  He knew instinctively that Jim was not going to approve of his having basically abandoned his child. He wouldn’t have approved of it himself, if he’d known. He braced himself for what he figured that Jim was going to say.

  “How do you know she’s yours?” Jim asked.

  Surprised by the response, it took Rusty a second to reply. “Um, well, when I saw her, I thought that she was her mother and said her mother’s name. Catherine. It just kind of came out of my mouth before I could stop it. She told me that Catherine was her mother’s name. I discovered later that her last name was Withers. That was Catherine’s last name. I just knew, Jim. I could feel it. You know what I’m saying?”

  “Why did you never check into the rumors?”

  “I was focused on moving forward with my life. I don’t know. I guess I was afraid that if they were true, that it would ruin my life.” Suddenly, Rusty didn’t need Jim’s judgment, his own was worse. He’d skipped out on Catherine and Hannah and acted as if neither of them existed. For what? To be the President’s Food Czar and destroy the food supply of the entire world? Some great plans. Look how they turned out.

  “Does she know that you think she’s your daughter?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to tell her?”

  “God, Jim, I don’t know.” He had fought the question back and forth in his mind since he’d met her in the lab. He still hadn’t reached a conclusion. I’m afraid that she’ll be mad at me.”

  “Count on it,” Jim replied.

  “What?”

  “She spent her entire life not knowing who her father was. Do you think any grown, intelligent woman would simply let that slide and say that it was nothing?”

  “No. I’d guess not.”

  “Then she’s going to be mad.”

  “I want to tell her, Jim, I really do. I want to apologize. I want to make up for it somehow, but I'm afraid that she either won’t believe me, or she’ll never forgive me.”

  “Well, Rusty, neither of those are your call to make.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Man up, Rusty. She deserves to know the truth.”

  “Yeah, she does.” He knew that Jim was right. He’d been leaning in that direction anyway, but fear was holding him back. He’d screwed up and it was time to own up to his mistake.

  “Besides that, I have a sneaking suspicion that she might need your protection.”

  Jim was right. Even though he’d covered his tracks and kept things extremely discrete, the government had ways of knowing where he was at and what he was doing. No doubt they had already put it all together. He had to act fast, but by doing that, would he give her away?

  “God, Jim, I’ve gotta go. Thanks for listening and being such a great friend.”

  “Any time, Rusty. Be careful,” he added.

  Rusty disconnected the call and sat back in his chair. He had to act fast. But, if they were tracing his calls or bugging his office, he would put everyone in danger. He might have just put Jim in danger. Paranoia wasn’t normal for him, and it scared him that he suddenly had it.

  He needed to arrange to meet Hannah. A phone call wouldn’t do for telling her the truth. A phone call might link her to him, if she hadn’t been already. Likely, they’d made the link. They would be suspicious if he arranged to meet her. They’d also be suspicious if he did it secretly. Shit! What the hell do I do?

  Making the call from his office would certainly be the worst thing that he could do. If he could disappear for just a little while, long enough to meet with her. He had to act normal. He couldn’t do anything outside the ordinary. Did it really even matter? Wouldn’t they be watching him no matter what he did? Still, if he could catch them off guard and slip away just for a little while. How would he do it?

  An idea came to him suddenly. He stood, reached for his suit jacket on the hook, took up his briefcase and started for the door. Just before he exited, he turned back toward his desk thinking of the Rolaids. No, Rolaids won’t touch what’s going on inside me now. He turned away from the desk and passed back through the door, stopping briefly at Ellen’s desk to let her know that he’d be out for the rest of the day.

  He tried to act casual as he made his way to his car. He was suspicious of everyone and everything around him, even people that he recognized and greeted on a daily basis. Would they be able to read him? Could they see through what he was doing? Were they waiting for the slightest bit of information to bust him? You’re being ridiculous, Rusty.

  Stopping off at a small store on a side street not far from his home, he purchased a prepaid cell phone. The package said that he had thirty free minutes with the purchase. That would be a lot more than he needed.

  He fought with the package when he got back in his car. The damned thing was nearly impossible to open without a hatchet, a saw and some C4, but he was finally able to start a small tear with his teeth. When he was finally able to rip it open, the contents scattered all over the car. The phone, of course, found its way under the front seat and was just out of reach. He was forced to get out, kneel down and reach under the seat to retrieve it. So much for being clandestine.

  When he finally got the phone together, plugged in and activated, he pulled away from the store and started to drive towards South Carolina. He had a very small window and hoped that he could squeeze through it before anyone connected the dots.

  An hour outside of DC, he pulled over at a rest stop. His heart was pounding in his chest and the acid in his stomach was beyond its usual boiling point. He took out his regular cell phone and found Hannah’s number. He’d saved it after the last time that she’d called him. He punched the numbers into the burner phone. He hesitated a moment while he gathered his nerve and then pressed “send”.

  “This is Hannah,” her cheerful voice replied.

  “Hannah, this is Rusty. We need to talk. Can you meet me somewhere private?”

  “I suppose.” Skepticism suddenly took over the tone of her voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just some things that we need to talk about.”

  “What phone are you calling from? This isn’t your regular number.”

  “Just trust me, Hannah. Is there somewhere that we can meet?”

  “Like now?”

  “No. Later tonight. I’m about an hour outside of DC, headed your way.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Let me thi
nk. There’s a nice quiet park not far from here. I like to go there sometimes and watch the wrens in the evening, but it will probably be dark when you get here. Did you know that the Carolina Wren is the state bird of South Carolina? It used to be the Mockingbird, but everybody’s state bird was the Mockingbird, so they changed it in 1948, they’re really pretty fas…”

  “Hannah,” he said a bit too sharply. “Just meet me there in say...seven hours? What’s it called?”

  Hannah told him the name and he punched it into his GPS.

  “You’ll have to push it to be here in seven hours,” she said.

  “Trust me, I’m pushing it.” In more ways than one. “I’ll see you then. I’m pulling back onto the highway now.”

  “Be careful,” she said, before he disconnected the call.

  27

  Clemson, SC

  Wednesday, Jan 6, 2021

  Clemson’s Forensic Genetics Lab

  Hannah was fiddling with the microscope and attempting to concentrate on what she was doing, but it was next to impossible. The boat load of information that had been dumped on her last night had nearly sunk her typically cheerful and industrious demeanor.

  At first, the clandestine meeting with the President’s Food Czar had seemed like it was going to be fun. She’d even left the lab early so that she could go home and get out her trench coat. After all, she had to dress the part. The sun was beginning to set when she took her seat on the park bench where she often watched the wrens.

  When Rusty finally showed up, he was visibly shaken. He told her that she might be in danger and that she might want to find somewhere to lay low for a while. She had assured him that she had kept everything secret, completely forgetting about her blog posting.

  What Rusty had said next had brought the game to a screeching halt for her, and now, weighed heavily on her mind. Even her quick retreat to the familiar surroundings of her lab hadn’t lessened the shock of what he’d said. She’d replayed it over and over in her mind, hundreds of times. She’d spent the whole night there, and still hadn’t come to grips with it by morning.

  “Hannah, there’s something else that I need to tell you,” Rusty had said.

  Her eyes widened, she got a small smile on her face as she leaned in close and whispered, “Ok. What?” She was having a hard time believing that she was in any danger, but she’d played along. She was expecting more fun. His next words however, were like a punch in the stomach.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m your father,” he’d choked out.

  “WTF? You’re not serious?” she’d asked. Then she had laughed, thinking of the classic line in Star Wars. “Is this like a Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader moment?”

  “I’m serious. I knew it the moment that I saw you in the lab. You look exactly like I remember your mother looking at your age. Even I couldn’t believe it at first, but when I heard your last name, I knew it was true.”

  She saw that he was serious, and the sudden shock numbed her. She listened to him as he rushed forward trying to explain:

  “I was young and reckless. We both were. Me and your mother. We’d fallen for each other and we’d dreamed together. We were both searching for something. I don’t know what happened, really. I just began to feel differently. Maybe I found myself. I don’t know. I had no idea that she was pregnant when we broke up. She never said anything. I heard rumors to that effect later, but I didn’t bother to check into them, because the girl that told me that had been a liar and a trouble-maker. I guess I was too busy building my new life. I left her alone. I left you alone. I didn’t even know that I’d done it.”

  He’d searched her face for a response. There were tears beginning to build up on the rims of his eyes. She had known in that instant that he was serious, but she’d still been too shocked to respond. He’d gone on.

  “Since I met you in the lab, I’ve been miserable. I realized what we’d both missed out on. I did some checking. You grew up without a father. I missed out on watching you becoming the incredible young woman that you are now. It wasn’t fair. I know it wasn’t fair. I can’t even imagine what you went through, or if you’ve hated me all of these years. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. If I had known… Please forgive me.”

  She had fought for some words to say, but it had all been too much. She’d spent a lifetime wondering who her father was and why he had abandoned them. She had sometimes dreamed of him and hoped that he would return someday and they would have a normal family like some of her friends. She had hated him at times, forgiven him over and over, but eventually, as she matured, resolved that she would never know the man who had impregnated her mother.

  In that moment, when it all came rushing in on her at once, she had been overwhelmed and she did the only thing that she was able to do; she ran. She ran to the only place that she felt truly comfortable. She ran to her lab and tried to bury herself in her work while she sorted things out.

  Throughout the night, she had stopped to cry. Why had he abandoned her? Why had he told her? How could she forgive him? Did she want to forgive him? She would return to her work with the questions unanswered and run through it all again while trying to force it out of her mind and concentrate on some specimen that she was examining.

  As the night wore on, she realized that she had felt a special connection with Rusty from the moment that she met him. Did something inside of her already know? Some more basic instinct, buried deep inside her genetics might have already made the connection. She’d liked him and if she’d had to choose someone that she wanted to be her father, he would have been as good of a candidate as any, but…

  She wanted to hate him and be angry with him. She had struggled. Her mother had struggled. They’d been poor, but her mother had made sure that she was happy. Hannah had studied and applied herself to knowledge as a means of filling up the emptiness that the man who had provided the sperm for her existence had left. Not knowing had hurt her, but knowing now was ripping her in half.

  After several hours, her thoughts began to settle down. Maybe she should forgive him. Her anger would only hurt her more. She had learned that lesson a number of times. She even told the story of spilling the milk pretty regularly to remind others to forgive and clean up the mess rather than letting the anger over something that had already happened eat away at them.

  Face to face with her own advice, she looked for a way to dodge it or to make it untrue, but her logical mind simply wouldn’t allow her emotions to take the truth captive. As much as she wanted to hate him and be angry with him, she also wanted that connection that her heart had longed for. She decided that it was time to make things right. It was time to clean up the mess.

  Hannah found her bag hanging from the hook under her trench coat. As she fished out her cell phone, she remembered the stern warning that he’d given her about not calling him. She’d been playing with adventure, not believing him, just playing along, but it suddenly hit her. They might actually be watching her. But she’d kept the secret. She hadn’t told anyone, except…

  She rushed to her computer and went to her blog. She scanned back through it. How many times had she published portions of the research or comments about it? “Hannah, you really screwed up this time,” she said aloud. She went back to the day after she had written her report on the terminator gene.

  The comments section had blown up after what she had revealed. Had she named any names or the company label or even the brand name? She scanned through the original text and discovered that she had not. There was no reference to Walsanto or to anything other than her research, and a little playful sarcasm, but did that mean anything? They’d know that she’d found their terminator gene. How many seeds with terminator genes could there possibly be out there, to cause even minor doubt for anyone who had read her post?

  After reading, she pressed delete and that particular posting was wiped out. She could only hope that no one that might be compromised by it had already read it, copied it or even printed it out. She went to the n
ext blog and repeated the process. After scanning through nearly a dozen blog postings, she had wiped out eight of them, realizing that she hadn’t been discreet at all. Had someone read them, someone that mattered or who would want to shut her up?

  What could she do? She had to talk to Dr. Greene. She swept out the door of her lab and started down the hall, remembering just before she reached his office that he had already told her that he would be out for the rest of the week. She spun around on her heel and walked back to her lab.

  I have to calm down. I can’t get paranoid. Get control Hannah. The self-talk was helping her little. She went back to her computer. Maybe she should look in the comments sections of her blogs to see if anyone official sounding had made any postings. Suddenly, she remembered that she’d deleted the blogs. She was panicking. She wasn’t thinking clearly. She had to call Rusty.

  Wait. Calm down. Think clearly. Rusty told me not to call. It might put him in danger, too. What danger? Why am I in danger? I haven’t done anything wrong. Why am I being paranoid? It was all because of the cloak and dagger stuff from the night before. Was there even a real threat or had she blown it all out of proportion?

  She suddenly felt exhaustion sweep over her. She hadn’t slept in close to 36 hours. She’d gone as far as her body would allow her to go without sleep. Her mind wasn’t clear. It would be better to go home and get some sleep.

  Hannah shut off her computer, scooped up her bag and draped the trench coat over her arm. Locking the door behind her, she kept the panic at bay that had risen up inside of her earlier as she continued down the hall and out to the parking lot where her car awaited her. She got in the car and started home.

  Realizing that she was hungry, she stopped off at her favorite natural food restaurant and got her favorite vegetarian wrap, got back in the car, opened up the recyclable paper wrapper and took a bite before putting her car in gear and looking up into the rearview mirror to back out of the space. That’s when she noticed the dark SUV for the first time.