The Rise of Walsanto (Genetic Apocalypse Book 3)

by Boyd Craven Jr

  Holding down her panic, she tried to reason through the fact that there were plenty of dark colored SUVs in the world and likely dozens of them in Clemson, South Carolina. Stop being paranoid.

  The chastisement worked until she saw the same black SUV in her rearview mirror several blocks later. What should she do? Where should she go? Would they hurt her? Were they going to grab her? Was someone really after her? As hard as she fought the feeling, her brain simply would not settle itself down. She set the wrap down and concentrated on her driving, keeping an eye on her rearview mirror.

  After several blocks, she realized that the SUV was no longer following her. See there, stupid. You were being paranoid for nothing. She drove several more blocks without seeing her tail and worked at pushing down the panic that had gotten such a tight hold on her earlier. She picked up the wrap again and took another bite and then rewrapped it as she arrived at home and pulled into her covered parking place.

  There was no sign of any sinister SUVs or other cars that were out of place, so she began to allow herself to relax again. She was just tired. She needed to get some sleep. She’d go inside, pour a glass of the vegetable juice that she’d made in her extractor the morning before, finish off the wrap, take a shower and go to bed.

  Focusing on her plan, she began to calm herself down and return to something of a normal state. It had been silly of her to get so carried away. Being inside her home had reassured her that she was safe and no one was really out to get her.

  Hanging her bag and her coat on a hook in the front closet, she went to the kitchen, took the wrapper off the wrap and put it on a plate, taking a bite as she opened the cupboard in search of a glass. She opened the refrigerator and took out the pitcher of vegetable juice, turning the lid so that the hole was adjacent to the spout and then filled up the glass.

  She set the glass beside the wrap on the breakfast bar and snagged another bite of the wrap as she turned back to the refrigerator with the pitcher. As she did, the doorbell rang. She had so completely dispensed with the idea that someone had been following her that she placed the pitcher back in the refrigerator and went straight to the front door.

  It wasn’t until she opened the door that her earlier panic came rushing back. Standing in front of her were two men and a woman. They were dressed in dark uniforms and wore dark sunglasses.

  “Hannah Withers,” said the man on the left, with a deep voice and a tone of authority, “you need to come with us.”

  28

  Anderson, SC

  Wednesday, Jan 6, 2021

  Hannah’s Home

  Hannah’s mind took off like a bottle rocket, attempting to change focus from what she had been doing, to what was happening now. Her body stood frozen in the doorway, staring at him for what felt to her like a long time. Her eyes registered, ‘Black moustache, mottled with gray. Chipped front tooth. Shaven head. Angry black bushy eyebrows. Caucasian. Black uniform beneath black jacket. Triangular shaped patch on his right shoulder embroidered in gold on the border, with the words POLICE above and Federal Protective Service in gold, below a circle in red, surrounding an eagle in blue, surrounded by the words U.S. Department of Homeland Security in blue. Smells like Old Spice.’

  “I was just fixing myself some food when you rang the bell,” she said, quietly.

  Hannah removed her right hand from the door knob and brushed her blue bangs out of her eyes with it absently.

  “Department of Homeland Security. You’re under arrest as a threat to National Security,” said the man on the right, clamping his strong hand onto that wrist.

  Her eyes turned to him. ‘Asian. Shorter. Younger. Black hair. Same uniform.’

  The hand on her wrist pushed her backwards as both men forced their way into her foyer in a very rude way.

  ‘What the hell? What is this?’

  Hannah then noticed a third person, standing back a couple of steps, staying on the porch. ‘Female. Caucasian. Brown hair, medium length. Same uniform. Beyond her, a man and a woman holding hands, walking on the sidewalk, staring at what was going on. A car driving past going the opposite way behind them.’

  “Hey! Get your hands off me mister,” Hannah said, in her toughest voice, and jerked her arm back. The hand didn’t budge.

  “Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” the man holding her wrist said, forcing her to turn, while fastening cold metal handcuffs first on her right wrist, then on her left.

  Hannah, now in a state of panic, could no longer speak. She struggled with everything she had against the officer as he cuffed her, but he only got rougher with her as she did, so in frustration, she began screaming as loud as she could. The couple on the sidewalk stood staring.

  The two male officers, one on either side of her, drug her kicking and screaming furiously, to their vehicle, which was parked out front. ‘White Chevy Tahoe. Royal blue stripe that says POLICE - Federal Protective Service - Homeland Security on it.’

  She saw the female officer enter her house, pistol drawn. ‘Looking for infants, children, other occupants, pets and hopefully to turn off anything that needs turning off.’

  The older man opened the rear door of the vehicle as the younger man pushed her head down to prevent her from hitting it as he shoved her roughly into the back seat, then closed the door.

  ‘Wire mesh separating the back from the front. Static, beeps and voices. 2-way radio. Smells like the locker room at the gym at the college. More people, students, walking past, bending to see me in the backseat. The two male officers, that’s what they are, policemen, are waiting on the sidewalk as the female officer exits my home. Good, she locked the door.’

  “All clear,” the female officer told the others. The car door beside her opened again. The female officer pushed Hannah over further, as she climbed right in beside her. The male officers got into the front, and away they drove, no one saying another word.

  “Hey! I have rights you know,” said Hannah, finally finding her voice. “What did I do wrong? Why are you arresting me?” ‘I didn’t do anything wrong. Who are these assholes? Who do they think I am? Where are they taking me?’

  She got nothing. None of them said a word. They just drove in silence. ‘Damn! This police lady smells like a cigarette! Get a Tic Tac lady! Ever hear of Febreze?’ Hannah pushed as far away from her as she could and tried to figure out where they were going by looking out of the window. ‘I have no flipping idea.

  ‘I wish I had a watch on. Shit! I forgot my phone. Seems like we’ve been driving for about 30 minutes. Turning into a parking lot now. Other cars like this one. Black-topped parking lot. Yellow parking stripes. Black wrought iron fence. No sign. Brown textured brick building, with tinted windows.’

  The car parked in a space right in front of the doors. Hannah watched as the officers in the front seat got out. The younger one on the passenger side opened the rear passenger door, where the female officer sat, letting her get out first.

  “Get out this way,” ordered the female officer.

  ‘Do I have shoes on? Whew, good, I do. Alright, alright. Mean woman.’

  Hannah slid out of the car and stood looking around, while the female officer took her by the right arm, escorting her towards the doors. Behind them, the gate closed on the fence, making an evenly spaced clanking noise as it closed.

  ‘There’s no sign in front of the building. No letters on the door. What is this place? Oh yeah, it must be the police station.’

  The older man opened the door for them. “Thank-you,” Hannah said, with a smile.

  ‘WTF? Why am I smiling at him, he helped kidnap me.’

  They walked past a desk with a man behind it to another door, which the older man again opened. “Thank-you,” she said again, automatically.

  ‘Ugh. I must be ignorant or something. Painted cement walls. Same for the floor. No outside windows. Big mirror on one wall. Two-way glass. Interrogation room. Wooden table, wooden chairs. Three of them. Smells like Pine-Sol.’

 
The door closed, leaving Hannah in the room by herself.

  “Great,” Hannah said loudly at the mirror in her toughest voice again. “You don’t tell me what I did wrong. You basically kidnap me without even reading me my rights or anything. You dump me in an interrogation room. You apparently don’t know who I am or who my father is. You just wait until he hears about this!” With that said, she began to cry. ‘Damn-it. I hate it when I cry. Did I really just use the do-you-know-who-my-father-is card? Already? Really? So much for the tough-girl front. This really sucks!’

  After a few minutes, a different man and a woman dressed the same as the first three officers entered the room, and sat at the other side of the table.

  “So, Miss Withers, you’ve joined us here today to tell us why you have been publishing matters of national security and top-secret information on the Internet for everyone to see. We’ll need to know where you got this information, the names of those participating with you, and what your intentions are,” the female officer said.

  “You know, you guys have really pissed me off,” Hannah snapped at her all teary eyed. “I’m not saying anything. I want a lawyer.” Hannah crossed her arms and gave her a defiant look. ‘Snarky bitch,’ she thought.

  “That’s a common misconception that people in your position seem to have Miss Withers. You were detained under the Patriot Act as a possible enemy combatant. We can hold you indefinitely, until it is decided whether you are or not. You have no right to a lawyer. An enemy combatant has no rights at all. Now you can wipe that smart-assed look off your face,” she said in a much louder voice, while straightening up in her chair, “and decide to cooperate, or you may find yourself our guest for a long time, in a military prison.”

  “Yeah right,” Hannah laughed nervously. “You can’t do that.”

  “Can’t we? Let me cite the rules for you young lady. ‘Military prisons are used to house prisoners of war, enemy combatants, or those whose freedom is considered a risk to national security. There, they may be confined indefinitely for military reasons until hostilities cease or until they are deemed no longer a threat to national security.’ That’s the legalese. You fit within two of those three descriptions Miss Withers. You think about that for a bit in one of our holding cells here and decide if that is the road you wish to travel.”

  With that, Hannah found herself placed into a very scary looking jail cell. A different female guard brought her an orange jump suit and slip-on canvas shoes and stood with her arms extended. “Put them on and give me yours,” she said.

  Hannah looked around. ‘Three cement walls. Front wall steel bars. A toilet, a sink and a cot fastened to the walls. Cement floor painted the same. Camera up in the opposite corner. Can’t reach it.’

  “No way,” she told the guard, shoving the bundle back at her. ‘You put that ugly shit on!’

  The next morning, after a totally sleepless night and a couple of crappy meals, Hannah was returned to the same interrogation room, this time wearing an ugly orange jump suit and slip on canvas shoes. She faced the same two officers as the day before.

  “Have you had a pleasant stay so far Miss Withers?” the female officer asked her. “We’ve had your blog taken entirely off of the university servers, just so you know. Our analysts are sifting through your email. We have searched your home and seized all of your electronics. You appear to be one very smart girl. That’s what puzzles us. If you’re so smart, why are you being so dumb about leaking national secrets and classified intelligence?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hannah answered. “I haven’t leaked anything. I don’t know anything about any national secrets or classified intelligence. What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “In your blog, you basically explained what genetic modifications were made to Walsanto’s corn plants, which the American people happen to own, and published the recipe to recreate it for anyone that cared to see. You made claims of the addition of some terminator gene, and eluded to the fact that the combination is making irreversible genetic mutations that could bring about the extinction of several species, including mankind. Can you honestly tell me that these statements were not meant to cause widespread panic and terror among the American public?”

  “Well of course they weren’t.” Hannah snapped at her. “They are my own findings, from my own research, posted to a protected server for the educational benefit of my fellow students and colleagues at Clemson University, you moron.

  “Oh! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that. I apologize. I’m not that kind of person, to call names. I’m just very, very upset right now and pretty confused too. I’ve never been treated like this in my entire life, and I have no idea what I’ve done wrong.” With that, she began to cry again and slumped down in her chair.

  “Alright, dry up,” the male officer said. “We don’t need any tears, snot or any other bodily fluids splashed around in here. Then you’re going to tell us what we want to know, with no further theatrics, got it?”

  “Good cop, bad cop huh?” Hannah replied to him. “You can kiss my ass.” ‘Fatso!’

  “Alright, alright,” the female officer said. “Who are you studying under then, at Clemson?”

  “Dr. Greene, in the forensic genetics department,” Hannah said. “Call him. He’ll straighten this whole thing up. He’ll tell you who I am, what I am, and that I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Eventually, we’ll be doing exactly that Miss Withers,” answered the female officer. “For now, you need to start talking to us.” She was beginning to get the idea that something about Hannah wasn’t exactly normal. She shot her partner a quick sideways look that told him to back-off a little. “Hannah,” said the female officer, in a more pleasant voice, “when you said yesterday that apparently we didn’t know who your father is, it made me wonder. Who is he? Would you like for me to call him?”

  Hannah responded positively to the kind tone of the officer’s voice now, with a smile. “Yes, please. He’s nice.”

  29

  Clemson, SC

  Thursday, Jan 7, 2021

  Clemson University Forensic Genetics Lab

  “Dr. Greene, thank you for coming in to meet with us,” said the female DHS officer, shaking his hand. Her male partner stood back two steps and didn’t offer. “We were told that you were supposed to be off for a couple of days of vacation.”

  “Certainly, certainly,” Dr. Greene responded, taking note of the other officer’s stance. He also noted the absence of name tags or names on the shield that she flashed when approaching him. ‘Curious,’ he thought. “How may I help you officers?” he inquired.

  “We are investigating someone that you may know. A Miss Hannah Withers-“

  “Oh dear, has something happened to Hannah? I understand that she didn’t show up yesterday or yet today and that’s very unlike her,” Dr. Greene cut in.

  “She’s ok, Dr. Greene. We just need to verify some things that she has told us. She named you as the first person we should talk to concerning her… actions, shall we say?”

  “What actions? Where is Hannah?” Dr. Greene asked.

  “She is in Federal custody for questioning on matters of national security, Doctor. First, does she work for you?” she asked.

  “Well, she doesn’t exactly work for me. She is a student here at the university, a PhD candidate in our Forensic Genetics course, and our top researcher in that field. What on earth could she possibly be in trouble for?” asked Dr. Greene.

  “Try, publishing classified information on the Internet for enemies of the United States to see, to begin with--“

  “What? What are you saying?” Greene asked. “Hannah would never do that. Oh dear. You must understand something about Hannah, before we go any further. The girl is a genius, first and foremost, but she is autistic, you see. She focusses on one thing and only one thing at a time. Carrying out some kind of ‘plot’ is not something that she is capable of. Her mind doesn’t work that way,” Dr.
Greene said.

  “So, that explains her odd behavior then,” the female agent said. “When she was arrested--“

  “Arrested?” interrupted Dr. Greene, raising his voice significantly.

  “--at her home,” continued the agent, slightly annoyed, “she couldn’t speak, and just screamed and fought. Is that common for her affliction?”

  “Yes, it certainly is,” Dr. Greene answered. “Dear Lord, can I see the poor girl?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. Not at this time, but you may be able to help her, just by explaining some things to us.”

  “Anything,” Dr. Greene answered. “Please, anything!”

  “What reason would she have for being involved in research, as she claims, in the genetic makeup of Walsanto Seeds’ grain products?” she asked.

  “Well there’s a very simple answer to that, young lady,” said Dr. Greene. “She was assigned that research by me personally, because Hannah is, quite simply, the smartest mind on the planet when it comes to taking something apart genetically, and figuring out how it came to be that way. I got the request to do that, ultimately from Rusty Whitman, the President’s Food Czar, to determine if there are any truth to the claims by South Carolina farmers that these grain products are making their livestock sterile.”

  “Well, that explains a lot then,” she said. “Miss Withers told us that her father worked for the President, and insisted that we contact him as well.”

  “Well, I’m afraid that there IS indeed a mix-up in that statement,” chuckled Dr. Greene. “To my knowledge, Hannah has no knowledge of who her father is, and her mother is deceased, but I assure you, she just met Rusty Whitman by my introduction a few days ago."