Bree nodded, but she wasn’t too surprised, not after watching them fight like they did.
They ran each of the mice through a trial. A second trial confirmed the results: the genetically altered mice beat the control mice, whether they raced males or females.
Bree said, “Let’s see what happens when the modified females race the control males.”
“That’s not systematic. You’d be comparing apples to oranges.”
“But I’m curious.”
Her dad flushed with pride. “Maybe we’ll run that test another day when the mice are fresh just to see what happens. Right now I want to test the maze.”
“It looks pretty complicated,” Bree said. “You think they’ll be able to figure it out?”
He sized up the maze, an elaborate set of corridors and dead ends with only one path leading to the finish. “Usually we start them with something simple, but I have a strong hunch about these mice and their capabilities. Get me control mouse 1A52.”
Bree located the mouse with the correct ear tag. “I’ve got her.”
“Great. Give her a whiff of this.” He held out a spoon of peanut butter. “Once I place the peanut butter at the end of the maze, put her in on my mark.”
When her dad was ready, he said, “Now.” Bree released the mouse, and her dad started the stopwatch. After three minutes, the mouse still hadn’t found her way through the maze.
Her dad said, “Just as I expected.”
Bree looked at him with her eyebrows drawn together. “Then why bother?”
“To test my theory. If I’m correct, the test mice will blow through the maze in no time. I bet they have heightened senses too. Start with 2A52 to keep the sexes consistent.”
Bree brought Sue out of the cage. Instead of remaining still in Bree’s hand as she had in the past, Sue sniffed Bree’s fingers like crazy, which was odd, because Bree hadn’t handled any of the peanut butter.
“You better get a grip on her before I give her a whiff of the peanut butter,” her dad said. “I don’t want her jumping onto me. With those muscles, I wouldn’t put it past her.”
What if Sue freaked and tried to bite her? Bree watched the mouse for a moment and then said, “What if she doesn’t like me holding her?”
“Put her back in the cage and grab the work gloves. She won’t be able to break through the fabric. Or I can do it if you want. It’s up to you.”
“I can handle it,” Bree said. “It’s just a mouse.”
“A mouse that’s stronger than most.”
Bree ignored his comment, refusing to let him think she couldn’t handle a mouse, and placed Sue back inside the cage. “I’m all set,” she said, returning with the gloves on.
“Great. Let’s do this then.”
Bree removed Sue from the cage, but instead of struggling, the mouse remained completely still, like an opossum playing dead. Was Sue baiting her? Waiting for the right moment to attack? Bree was fascinated: what was going on in that puny mouse brain?
A quick sniff of peanut butter and then Sue was in the maze. The mouse scurried to the end of the first corridor, turned the corner, hit the next straightaway, and cut right. No hesitation. No time to think. Just pure animal instinct. A quick left and then Sue raced down the next straightaway fast and hard. She smashed headfirst through one wall and again through the wall after that, as if the thick wood was paper thin. Chucks of wood flew everywhere. Sue ran straight to the peanut butter, which she ate readily.
“Oh my God,” Bree said.
Her dad grinned. “Incredible. Through two pieces of half-inch-thick wood…” He scrutinized the mouse while she ate, as if expecting her to fly or talk or perform some other amazing stunt, but Sue was only interested in the peanut butter.
“They’re like super mice,” Bree said with a smile. “All they need are capes and their fur dyed with the letter ‘S,’ and they can save the world.”
“From the cats maybe.” Her dad shook his head. “I still can’t believe it. Not only are they strong, but they have super enhanced senses, and possibly increased intelligence. I don’t know if it was her sense of smell that told her the peanut butter was on the other side of the walls or how she figured out how to avoid going through the maze. We’d better get her back in her cage. I don’t want to lose her if she decides to make a run for it. Those outer walls on the maze aren’t much thicker. Give her some more peanut butter to keep her busy. And bring the jar with you.”
Bree returned with the peanut butter and gave some to Sue. “What happens if they get too strong for their cages?”
“That’s a good point. I didn’t think about it, but I guess I should.” His eyes settled on the mouse. “After what we’ve seen here, I wouldn’t be surprised if the mice found a way to get through the plastic, although it might be difficult without a running start. I’ll have to look into getting metal cages just in case. Give me your gloves.”
Once he had gloves on, he took the peanut butter from Bree, placed some in his palm, set his hand down next to the mouse, and waited for Sue to climb aboard. When she did, he moved her slow and steady; Sue didn’t seem to notice until he set her into the cage, just as she finished the last bite of peanut butter.
“I didn’t want to put her in too soon,” he said. “The other mouse would go after the peanut butter, and she wouldn’t trust me anymore. Better to take things slowly than to risk a problem.” He snapped the lid on the cage. “I knew finding lycanthrope DNA was significant, really significant, but this? I never thought it was possible…I mean what are the odds? Yet here we are. I’ve waited all my life for something like this to happen. All those trips, all that research, and now it’s here, and I’m not dreaming. It’s just so amazing.”
“So, what’s next?”
“Let’s put the mice back in their regular cages and get some dinner. I’m starving.”
Bree laughed. “I mean after that?”
“We could catch a movie if you want.”
“I mean with the mice.”
He gave her a steady look. “Right now, we’re creating strong mice, but we don’t know if it will lead to fixing the wound repair serum.”
“If it does, does that mean that future generations could self-heal, and wouldn’t that lead to a change in all humans? Forever?”
“It shouldn’t. We’re only modifying genes in the body cells, not changing functional genes in the sperm or egg. In our case, we have to see if the genetic changes lead to degradation.”
“Meaning what?”
“That it would hurt rather than help over time.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sunderland Home, East Milmore, Virginia
The credits rolled, and Bree shut off the DVD player and the TV. She could see why Liam loved Gone in Sixty Seconds so much—he had to if he had already watched it a half dozen times—but seeing it once was enough for her. Although she loved all the action, she would have preferred something less intense, maybe a drama or a comedy. She removed the DVD from the player, put it back into the case, and set it on the coffee table in front of Liam so he didn’t forget to take it when he left. Then she snuggled against him on the sofa.
He wrapped his arm around her. “I’m so happy I’m here. I still can’t believe my ma let us come.”
“I like your mom. Maybe I’ll get to see her again someday.” One morning on her way to school Bree had said goodbye to her own mom—and then never saw her again. Eighth grade was a big blur after that—a messed up jumble of raw emotion.
“She’d enjoy that.” Liam leaned forward and kissed the side of Bree’s neck, sending a shiver across her skin and distracting her from her thoughts.
She drew in a short breath and turned so she faced him. Liam’s lips met hers; he tasted like strawberries. Bree closed her eyes, wanting the kiss to last forever. It was like she was gliding above the clouds where nothing else mattered—only Liam and how he made her feel.
The refrigerator
door slammed. Bree and Liam jumped, and Bree pulled away. With her breaths coming quickly, she said, “I forgot he was home.” A smile lit her face, and Liam chuckled.
“At least he didn’t walk in on us,” Liam said.
Bree nodded. She caught sight of her dad as he passed the room with a drink in hand. “He’s so busy with his work, I don’t think he even noticed we were here.”
“Speaking of work,” Liam said, “how’s it going?”
“Good.” Bree felt awful she couldn’t share the details with him. “I really wish you were working with me in the lab like we were back in Ireland.”
He took her hand. “It’s okay. I understand. Besides, it’s not like I’m across the world anymore. We still get to see each other.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same.”
“No, but your research is important.”
She leaned into him. “What if they come after us?”
Liam wrapped his arm around her and said, “The Benandanti?”
“Who knows how many are out there.”
“They’ve managed to hide all these years. They obviously don’t want to be found.”
“They didn’t want the hand to be found either,” Bree said. “But it was.”
“Yeah, but they think they destroyed the DNA when they burned the hand, right?”
Bree looked into his eyes. “Maybe…I don’t know.”
“Whatever happens,” Liam said. “We’ll be fine. I promise.”
She nodded. Although she wanted to believe Liam, she wasn’t so sure.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Pentagon, Arlington, Virginia: One Week Later
General Maberry stood with his fists on the conference table, eyeing the four officers seated before him. “Dr. Sunderland is balking. He says it’s way too early to test the lycanthrope DNA on humans. I’m still trying to convince him to get on board now.”
“And if you can’t?” Hewitt asked.
“Then we’ll do it without him.” General Maberry paused, not expecting his men to question him, but curious if any would. When no one said anything, he continued. “This is too important to our national security. We need to control the situation in the Middle East.” He cleared his throat. “This won’t be the first time we’ve gone ahead on our own. I’m hoping it doesn’t come down to that, but if it does we’re ready to move forward—without Dr. Sunderland.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Pentagon
Five stories above the ground in a room located in the E ring of the Pentagon, two Army officers sat across from one another behind closed doors.
“What’s the progress on the lab?” Hewitt said. Built like a brick wall with a head that seemed to sit directly on his shoulders, he was the larger of the two. His hair was cut high and tight, and his nose was slightly sunburned.
“Everything’s almost in place,” Webb said. “Construction’s finished and we’re loading in the equipment later today. We left the outside of the warehouse intact to avoid suspicion.”
“Has Parker figured out how to use the DNA info from the report I intercepted?”
“Not a hundred percent—it’s only been a little over three weeks—but he’s real close. Once he gets working in the lab, he’ll know for sure.”
“Good,” Hewitt said. “If we play it right, we’ll soon have everything we need to go ahead with our plan.”
Webb leaned forward. “You sure General Maberry’s in the dark about it?”
Hewitt nodded. “If he was onto us we’d be locked up in Leavenworth by now.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Delcore Institute, Rivershire, Virginia
The lab door slammed against the frame, and Bree turned to see two men crossing the room with purpose. Both wore camouflage pants, solid olive-colored t-shirts, and tan boots. The man on the left was the taller of the two, his shoulders thrust back and arms at his sides. His face betrayed nothing, not even a hint of emotion. The man on the right looked like he had sucked a lemon. In unison, the men marched right past Bree and into her dad’s office and shut the door behind them.
Through the large window, Bree watched the men flank her dad, who sat behind his desk. She rushed to the office door and pushed inside. At the sound of the door, the men turned to face her, jaws clenched, eyes boring into her.
“I have this,” her dad said as he jumped out of his chair. He strode past the men and clamped his hand on Bree’s shoulder. “Why don’t you take a break while I finish up here?” He led her out the door and back into the lab. “I won’t be long. We’ll get some ice cream.”
“But—”
“Do what I say, Bree. It’s nothing to worry about. Just some business I have to take care of.” Without giving her a chance to respond, he rejoined the men and closed the office door behind him.
Bree wasn’t falling for it. Something was wrong. Really wrong. The only thing he’d been working on was mice pumped up with lycanthrope DNA, so why all the anger and secrecy? She considered barging back in there and asking but didn’t dare. Instead, she crept beside her dad’s office window and pressed her ear to the wall. Heart pounding. Hands shaking.
It was difficult to discern what they said. All she could hear were voices: the deep voice of one man contrasted with her dad’s brash tone. Whatever it was, it was serious. She dared to peek into the room through the window. The men stood side by side with their backs to her, blocking her view of her dad, so Bree dropped down below the window, scooted to her right a few feet, and inched back up for another look. No one had moved, but now she could see her dad talking rapidly, hands and arms in motion.
The soldier with the deep voice interrupted him, and her dad crossed his arms and screwed up his face. The soldier smacked the desk with an open palm, and Bree jumped. Her hip smashed into the wall. She backed away, but the office door opened, and the man with the deep voice stepped out with his hands on his hips.
“What are you doing?” the man asked with an angry stare.
“Nothing. Just tying my shoe. That’s all.” Bree scrambled to stand.
“Who the hell do you think you are listening in on other people’s conversations?” Before she could answer, he turned toward her dad and said, “Keep her in line or you’ll be sorry.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Bree blurted. “I swear.”
Her dad thrust himself between Bree and the man with the deep voice. “It doesn’t matter what she heard. She won’t say anything. And you will not threaten my daughter.”
“Then control her. We’ll be in touch, doctor.” The man motioned to his partner with a two finger wave, and they strode out of the lab.
Bree stepped into her dad’s waiting arms, and he held her tight. “What was that about?” she said into his chest.
Sighing, her dad rested his chin on the top of Bree’s head. “I’m supposed to send in reports every week detailing my work.”
“They seemed so angry.”
“That’s my fault. I got so caught up in everything I forgot to report in for the past few weeks.”
“Jeez, they could have just called.”
“Guess they got tired of waiting. Sorry they scared you like that.”
“I’m fine,” she said, although she knew he was lying. Even if General Maberry had sent those men to get the missing reports, they wouldn’t be so nasty about it. He was definitely hiding something. But what?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Arleta, the Benandanti sister from Ireland, leaned her elbows on the steering wheel and scanned the front of the Delcore Institute through her binoculars. Muscles stiff from remaining in one position for so long, she arched her back in an attempt to ease the ache.
Two soldiers emerged from the building and headed straight for their car. They were obviously annoyed. The one on the left halted the other and pointed directly at her. Had the sunlight glinted off her binoculars? Damn.
Arleta tossed the binoculars onto the pas
senger seat, cranked the engine, and peeled out of the parking lot, swerving around the shorter of the two. He shot her a look and then took off running, straight for his car.
She had to shake them—if they found out who she was, she and so many others would never be safe again.
A quick left and a right took her past a strip mall and a post office. She took a speed bump without slowing, bottomed out, and then whizzed past a school and a fire station. Who were these guys? Why were they annoyed when they had left Dr. Sunderland’s lab? And why were they after her now?
The road curved around a bend and narrowed. Traffic eased as she passed the highway on-ramp, where most of the cars went. The men hit the gas and swerved around her.
But they had laid a trap.
The moment they began to pass, they smashed into her car.
Cold fear hit Arleta like a knockout punch. She wrestled to keep the car from going off the road. A second hit spun her around and propelled her car into the vehicle behind her. Both cars plunged off the embankment. Arleta screamed. With a death grip on the steering wheel, she braced for impact. The car hit a rock and went over on two wheels. She screamed again. Her heart felt like it was exploding in her chest. Powerless, she watched the ground rush toward her as the car careened down the hill and crashed into a ditch, barely missing a cluster of trees. The force shook Arleta down to the bones, and she gasped for air.
Hands shaking, she quickly assessed her injuries. Other than a few bruised muscles and a banged elbow, she was fine. She scrambled up the incline, but the soldiers were long gone. She worked hard to control her anger. They could have easily killed her. And right now that was exactly what she wanted to do to them—squeeze the life out of the men with her bare hands. Watch them die slowly and revel in the feeling as their last tortured breaths escaped their lips. She stuffed her feelings back down as she had trained her entire life to do. The danger had passed and it was time to refocus.
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