Terminal

by Kathy Reichs

  “Just four parts?” Ben scratched his nose. “In two possible pairings? That’s all?”

  “A strand of human DNA has approximately three billion base pairs,” I replied. “Those pairs can be arranged in any order. The number of possible sequences is astronomical. More than eight trillion possible combinations arise from any two parents. That’s why all people are different—we each have our own unique arrangement of base pairs.”

  “Okay.” Ben nodded. “Eight trillion sounds like a lot.”

  “The relevant thing is—” Chance pointed to a new image on the monitor, “—only five percent of all human base pairs directly code for bodily activities. The other ninety-five percent are non-encoded, and don’t seem to do much of anything. Whole sections of DNA appear to be nothing more than repetitive genetic information that no one understands.”

  “How is that relevant?” I asked.

  “Because we don’t know what happens if some of that dormant genetic material suddenly turns itself on.” Chance gave me a level look. “Until now.”

  Before I could respond, he moved to the file cabinet atop the center workstation. More keys, another lock, then Chance began spreading files on the table.

  We dutifully trooped over after him.

  “Yes?” I said impatiently.

  “I destroyed the samples I created,” Chance said, shuffling through the documents. “And there are no similar records from Karsten—his tests never progressed to the point where he mapped the genetic sequence of his experimental virus. It escaped too soon.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I see a dog in a cage, I break it out. That’s how I roll.”

  “Understood.” Chance’s eyes rose to catch mine. “But our DNA is locked inside every cell of our bodies.”

  I met his gaze. “The blood samples. You found something.”

  Chance nodded. “I mapped our DNA.”

  Hi thumb-tapped the edge of the table. “What, like, on Google?”

  Chance chuckled. “Hardly. I extracted DNA from our blood samples using chemical agents to isolate and destroy white blood cells, break down the composite proteins, and release the genetic material. Then I cut the DNA into fragments to determine VNTR sequences.”

  Shelton blinked. “Did what now?”

  “What process did you use?” I asked.

  “Restriction fragment length polymorphism,” Chance replied. “Then I separated the fragments by size using gel electrophoresis.”

  “Basic DNA fingerprinting.” I nodded. “When did you learn to do all this?”

  “After the mental hospital.” He looked away. “You’d be surprised what you can accomplish when investigating whether or not you’re crazy.”

  That stopped me short. I was the main reason he’d doubted his sanity.

  Chance shook himself, then continued his explanation. “I transferred the DNA fragments to a nylon membrane, tagged them with radioisotopes, then ran them through radiography. And voilà—the DNA fingerprints you see here.”

  “I don’t understand the words that are coming out of your mouth,” Hi intoned.

  “Just look.” Chance spread out a number of pages, each with a DNA fingerprint pattern. “I won’t lie—I didn’t understand all of it either, but the computer did.”

  Chance stepped back from the table. “And according to the computer, we’re not human.”

  “Come again?” Shelton reached for an earlobe.

  “We have an extra pair of chromosomes.” Chance’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “They appear canine in nature, yet that doesn’t exactly match, either. But whatever genes are contained in these foreign DNA segments, they’ve started some kind of chain reaction. Inside our cells, usually dormant base-pair sections are humming like cell phone towers.”

  Hi backed away from the table. “How is that possible?”

  “The virus.” I didn’t need to see Chance’s nod.

  “I’m as shocked as you,” Chance said. “These invasive chromosomes should’ve killed us.”

  “A virus can change our species?” Shelton squawked. “Good Lord!”

  I spoke slowly, trying to piece it together. “A virus is an infectious agent that can only replicate inside another organism’s cells. They’re made of practically nothing—a section of genetic material, a few molecules to carry it, and a protein coat protecting it all. Some scientists don’t even consider viruses to be alive—just inanimate DNA vehicles whose sole purpose is to inject foreign genetic material into host cells.”

  “This virus tricked our cells into incorporating its DNA, then vanished.” Chance shook his head in wonder. “I can’t find it anywhere. Not one single trace of the virus itself. But it’s undeniable that we’ve been altered. The supervirus may be gone, but our DNA remains warped. I don’t understand it at all.”

  I began to pace, thinking out loud. “Karsten said he inserted genetic material from canine parvovirus into Parvovirus B19, the innocuous human strain. That created Parvovirus XPB-19. Which we caught, while rescuing Coop.”

  “An outcome Karsten hadn’t foreseen,” Hi added. “And couldn’t explain.”

  “Me either,” Chance admitted. “When we first started, I never anticipated our strain becoming contagious. We were flying blind—I never knew exactly what DNA segments Karsten used in his experiment. We could only guess.”

  Chance looked away. I felt like he’d been about to say more.

  I waited, sensing it wasn’t something to press.

  But when he spoke again, I was sure he’d changed topics. “The supervirus I created is different from Karsten’s work. The genetic alterations in my cells are practically identical to yours, yet the manifestations are slightly dissimilar. My eyes glow red, not yellow. I can’t reach your minds, but can connect with the Trinity. I don’t have an explanation. And I destroyed all my samples.”

  Again, the slight hitch in his voice.

  Was Chance holding something back?

  Hi interrupted my thoughts. “Karsten thought our flare powers were a side effect—the result of genetic tweaks to the limbic portions of our nervous system.”

  I nodded, trying to recall Karsten’s exact words. “He believed our brains had been altered, allowing for drastic hormonal changes. Wolf DNA mingling with human, transferring some of their unique abilities to us.”

  “And these tests prove it.” Chance smacked the table. “We have canine DNA encoded within our cells. Dormant base pairs have suddenly gone hyperactive.”

  “So what does it all mean?” Shelton whispered. “What’s the upshot?”

  Chance ran a hand through his hair.

  His voice became unsteady.

  “The upshot is—we may not be done evolving yet. The mutations may not be complete.”

  The Explorer’s tires rumbled across the bridge to Morris Island.

  Inside, silence reigned. Chance’s revelations had taken the wind from our sails.

  No one knew how to react, or what to do next.

  We now had proof: canine DNA had infiltrated our chromosomes and scrambled our genetic code.

  A stark conclusion was inescapable.

  We Virals weren’t fully human.

  And I had no idea what came next.

  A hot ball of anxiety was forming inside my chest. A familiar sense of helplessness crept over me. I could barely breathe.

  What could I do, in the face of that kind of news? What could anyone?

  Something. Anything.

  Work with what you have.

  “Stop.”

  Ben glanced at me, surprised. We were still navigating the dunes at the southern edge of the island, a few hundred yards from home.

  “Stop the car,” I repeated.

  Ben shrugged, slowed to a halt in the middle of the road. It’s not like there was other traffic. “What is it?”


  “What Chance said,” I began, half turning to address Shelton and Hi as well. “We can’t let it paralyze us. We can’t crawl into a shell and hide.”

  I met their eyes in turn. Didn’t like what I saw.

  My instincts had been right—the boys were experiencing the same feelings. I could see it in their dejected expressions. The discouraged set to their shoulders.

  “I was just informed I’m a mutant,” Hi grumbled. “Not my best day, ya know?”

  I nodded. I did know.

  “I mean . . .” Shelton raised a hand, then waved it ineffectually. “What do we do now? Do we just . . . you know, go on like . . . whatever? Act like we don’t know? This is the worst.”

  “No, it’s not.” Ben spoke softly—hands on the wheel as he stared straight ahead—but his voice carried conviction. “We’re not freaks. We’re special. Lucky. I don’t regret a thing.”

  “Lucky?” Hi ran a hand over his face. “Dude, Chance said we may continue to . . . evolve. Wolf chromosomes are tap-dancing inside our stem cells. How can that be good?”

  Hi had voiced my own fears.

  What good could come of this?

  Nature is wild and full of variation, but she’s also a stickler for order. The supervirus had shuffled the evolutionary deck. More times than not, that ended badly for the test subject.

  Ben spun to face the group, his face knotted with intensity. “Do you really want to be normal again? Back to being just another schlub?”

  Hi flinched, but said nothing.

  Shelton reached for his ear. “You don’t?”

  “Not for a second.” Ben glanced at me, gauging my reaction. “Y’all shouldn’t either.”

  “You say that now.” Hi shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Sure, flaring is great. I love it every single time. But what happens if these powers turn on us? Or change into something else? Or worse, change us?”

  Ben made a frustrated sound in his throat.

  The conversation was veering from what I’d intended.

  “We should deal with the things we can,” I said. “What’s in front of us, right now, that we can control. Let’s shelve ‘big picture’ questions for another day.”

  “Okay.” Shelton straightened, seemed to shake off some of his funk. “What’s that?”

  I answered without hesitation. “Find the damn Trinity. Nothing’s changed on that score.”

  Hi perked up. “I’m guessing you have a plan?”

  I nodded, then snapped my finger at Ben. “Turn this truck around. We’ve got unfinished business in the city.”

  • • •

  “Let me do the talking.”

  I thumped the dorm-room door, ready to pounce on its occupant.

  “You heard her, Benjamin.” Hi gave our scowling companion a stern look. “No running your mouth like usual.”

  Hi ducked as Ben’s palm swung for his head. “Too quick, son.”

  “Stop goofing around!” Shelton hissed. “This guy could be Trinity.”

  My foot tapped with each passing second.

  Nothing. No answer. I pounded again.

  Down the hallway, a door cracked open. When a scraggly head poked out, I recognized Speckman’s roommate, Cole, staring down the corridor.

  He rubbed his peach-fuzz mustache, eyes half closed, gripping a tube of cheddar cheese Pringles. “You guys know it’s, like, nap time around here, right? I’ve got sculpting class in three hours.”

  I rolled my eyes, hammering Jordan’s door a third time.

  Rubbing his scalp, Cole shuffled out into the corridor. He wore a rumpled CU hoodie and dirty board shorts. Not much of a laundry man.

  “Jordan’s gone, bros.” Cole wiped crumbs from his greasy sweatshirt. “He bugged out right after you jokers gave him the third degree. Said CU wasn’t for him.” He snorted. “Y’all are, like, the leading cause of dropout around here.”

  I jabbed my finger against the door, surprised. “He doesn’t live here anymore?”

  Yawning, Cole shook his head. “Some girl came by, and they got into a screaming match. Ruined drum circle. Then they left together. Hot chick. I would’ve left with her, too.”

  He smiled, exposing two rows of fuzzy yellow teeth. I suppressed a shiver.

  “And he never came back?”

  “Naw, he did once.” Cole absently scratched beneath his hoodie. “Just to pack, though. I would’ve helped him, but, you know, I got a bad knee. Jordan said he was gonzo, but didn’t say where. The same chick was waiting in his car.” His face grew confused. “I don’t get it, man. That dude has zero game, then suddenly he up and jets with a hottie? Meanwhile I can’t buy a date.”

  “Makes no sense.” Hi, face serious.

  I pressed a fist to my lips, considering. “What’d the girl look like?”

  “Hot.”

  Ben shifted his weight. I heard Hi chuckle behind me.

  I choked back my mounting frustration. “Could you be more specific?”

  “Oh, right.” Cole rubbed his oily chin and squinted at the ceiling. “She had, like, nice hair. It was sorta . . . black? Or maybe brown. Not blonde, for sure. And she was kinda tall. But not really. Oh, and I think she wore a T-shirt. Could be wrong, though.”

  I stared at the useless witness before me.

  What a moron.

  “Can you remember anything else, Cole?” Catching his eye, I tried to urge the memory from his brain by force of will. “Anything at all?”

  For a moment, Cole’s face screwed up in thought, then it bloomed with contentment. “He said I could have his mattress. Solid dude, that Jordan.”

  • • •

  Hi snapped on his seat belt. “Not everyone is college material.”

  Shelton shook his head. “I’m surprised that guy remembers to breathe.”

  I closed the passenger door, ordering facts in my mind. “Jordan was super nervous when we questioned him, then dropped out of school right afterward. We know he saw a girl in a Bolton Prep uniform when he loaned Speckman his camping gear. Then, later, he leaves campus with a girl.”

  “A hot girl.” Hi tapped his forehead. “Don’t omit crucial details.”

  I ignored him. “The question is, was it the same girl both times? Are Jordan and this mystery lady the missing members of the Trinity?”

  Ben drummed the dashboard. “You think it’s Ashley? Speckman used to date her, and she fits Jordan’s memory plus what Cole just described.”

  My arms crossed. “Ashley’s not that hot.”

  “Yeah she is.” Shelton and Hi, in unison.

  “We can all agree that Ashley is somewhat pretty.” Ben, his face and voice carefully neutral.

  “Pretty hot,” Hi quipped.

  “It might be her,” I conceded. Through gritted teeth.

  “What’s the problem?” Shelton blew on his smudged lenses. “I thought Ashley was your prime suspect. Didn’t you see her in Jordan’s mind?” Then he shivered at what he’d just said.

  “She is, but . . .” I trailed off, uncertain whether I should share my other suspicions. “I’ve been considering other possibilities as well.”

  A pause. I wavered, undecided.

  “Well?” Hi extended both hands. “Out with it, Victoria.”

  You have to tell them sometime.

  “Two other people might fit the evidence.” With a sigh, I told them about Jason and Madison. How they’d avoided me at Bolton. I reminded them about Jason’s fishing trips with Will Speckman, and his current connection to Madison. The Taylor family’s easy access to government-issue supplies.

  The only thing I omitted was Chance.

  The question of his loyalty overshadowed everything, like a sickness, but I wasn’t ready to light that bonfire. Not yet. Not without something concrete.

  Hi was shaking his head before I finis
hed. “I can’t see it. Jason Taylor? He’s always been so cool, and we’ve been through some stuff together.”

  “Not my boy Jase,” Shelton swiftly agreed. “And aren’t you tight with Madison now? Soccer sisters for life, or whatever?”

  Ben, however, was less quick to dismiss. “The facts fit, though.”

  “Come off it, man!” Shelton waved a hand at Ben. “You’ve never liked Jason.”

  Ben’s tone grew defensive. “So? The evidence fits, that’s all I’m saying. Hell, Tory’s the one saying it.”

  Hi began pulling on his hair. “But Jason’s so nice to me. He calls me Hi-Rise. We play Warcraft together!”

  I raised my palms to cut them off. “Everyone take a breath. I’m not sure of anything. I’m just pointing out . . . possibilities. Based on the evidence we have.”

  “So what’s our move?” Shelton asked. “Are we focused on Jordan, and maybe Ashley? Or are we after Jason and Madison now?”

  All eyes found me.

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  A moment of tense silence. Then Ben turned the key.

  Cruising back to Morris Island, no one said a word.

  • • •

  My laptop beeped an hour later.

  Curious, I crossed to my desk, ruffling Coop’s ears along the way. The wolfdog tracked me for a moment, then lost interest, eyes closing as he resumed his snooze on my bedroom floor.

  A message from Shelton. He wanted to video-chat.

  “Okeydokey.”

  I clicked the link and my screen split into quarters. The rest of the pack was already there.

  Ben was still at his dad’s place a few units down. He lay on their ratty old couch, laptop balanced on his stomach. Hi was in his room, already changed into Godzilla pajamas. Shelton was also bedside, but still dressed. And nearly bouncing with excitement.