Neely laughed. “I know. I do. There’s a reason for that. I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
“About something Sally said.” She leaned forward and placed the cup back on the desk, then straightened in the chair. “Let me start by saying how impressive that computer system is that you built. I mean, I’m skeptical by nature, but that system is turning me into a believer.”
“I know the feeling.”
“It’s funny. There is a fine line between skepticism and optimism. Skeptics want you to prove it and optimists want you to believe it. And speaking from deep in the former’s camp, I will admit there is a certain resistance there to big ideas.”
Alison shrugged. “Skeptics keep optimists grounded.”
Neely chuckled. “That’s how a lot of us like to think of it. Some of it also comes from constant disappointment, but that’s another story. The reason I’m saying this is because I’ve been considering some things from the other side. My first reaction when Sally said humans and dolphins used to communicate was that it was nonsense. It sounds like a plot for some kid’s movie.”
Alison laughed.
“But the more I think about it, the more disappointed I am with myself for dismissing it. Because, even objectively speaking, there are some aspects of science that may support it. Particularly in genetics.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Think of our genetic history as a giant tree system with branches cascading down to smaller and smaller branches, all replicating millions of times, over millions of years, and eventually touching everything.” Neely stopped mid-thought. “Have you ever heard the old Albert Einstein quote that, ‘God doesn’t play dice with the universe?’”
“I don’t think so.”
“Einstein was troubled by the apparent randomness of the universe and came to believe that there had to be some underlying, hidden law to explain why what appeared to be random actually wasn’t. Most of his thinking had to do with particles and things like that. But it still begs the question: does God play dice?”
“When you say dice are you talking about chance?”
“Yes, exactly.” Neely nodded. “Regardless of a person’s fundamental religious belief, if we step back and ask ourselves that question, most people have to acknowledge that the answer is yes. At least to a large extent.”
Alison looked confused and put her own cup down. “I’m not sure I’m following.”
“Okay, look. Let’s say half the population believes that life is designed, while the other half believes it simply evolves. Evolution being the randomness, or chance, that Einstein struggled with.”
“Okay.”
“So here’s the rub. If I didn’t believe the world was created by chance, then why does the entire planet currently operate on chance, including virtually every form of life on it?”
“Life runs on chance?”
“Yes! Think about it. Each tree, plant, and even grass all release millions of seeds and billions of pollen over their lifetime in the hope of reproducing, or spreading. This happens every day all over the planet. Animals and insects do the same. Even with humans, females produce hundreds of eggs and males produce billions of sperm, all for the chance of reproduction. It’s the same everywhere to varying degrees. Almost all life on planet Earth operates under the rules of chance.”
Alison stared at Neely. “Wow!”
“Right? Anyway, I didn’t bring that up to get on a soapbox. I personally believe in God, but I think there are some big gaps in the explanation. Those who believe in intelligent design might argue the chance factor was part of the design, which is a valid point. What I’m trying to say is this: when you consider the sheer magnitude chance plays in our world, and the genetic cross-pollination that’s been going on for millions of years, is it any surprise that much of our DNA is the same?”
“Well, humans had to start somewhere, right?”
“I don’t just mean humans, Alison. I mean ALL life. All life on the planet shares a LOT of DNA.”
Alison nodded. “Like humans and primates.”
“Correct. But the genetic picture is even bigger. Our closest DNA relative is the chimpanzee. Did you know that of the three billion basepairs in the human genome, we share 99% of those with chimpanzees?”
“Wow. I didn’t know it was that high.”
“Most people don’t. But this is where it gets interesting. We also share 97% of our DNA with all other apes, and we share 93% with mice.”
“Mice?!”
Neely nodded. “Mice. And if you keep going down the line, you’ll find that we share over 50% of our DNA with a banana.”
Alison’s eyes widened. “What? That can’t be right.”
“It is,” Neely smiled. “Now stay with me. I’m about to explain why I started this. If life’s reproduction processes operate by mathematical chance, and its DNA is like a giant tree branching out over the planet for millions of years, leading us to now share much of what we are genetically…then how different do you think we really are from dolphins?”
Alison eased herself back into the chair with eyes still fixed on Neely.
“Alison, Sally said we used to be able to communicate. And while I initially dismissed it, looking at it from strictly a genetic standpoint, does it still seem all that impossible?”
“No.”
“No,” agreed Neely. “And here’s the kicker –– most of that shared DNA is considered junk. Strands and basepairs that have long been deactivated through evolution. And there’s no telling what they used to be used for. What if some of those billions of old genes tied into some of our cognitive communication? What if there were abilities that used to be active and we have simply evolved out of them? In other words, what if we lost the ability through evolution but dolphins didn’t?”
42
“Alison, it’s me.”
“DeeAnn?! How are you?”
DeeAnn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “We’re okay. Even though Steve just tried to kill us. But we’re in Iquitos now.” She braced herself as the large SUV she was riding in turned a corner.
Known as the Capital of the Peruvian Amazon, the city was founded between the Amazon, Nanay, and Itaya rivers as far back as 1757 as a Spanish Jesuit deduction. Originally inhabited by Yameos and Iquito natives, the city eventually grew to be a lead city in the late eighteenth century during South America’s “rubber boom.”
Today Iquitos stood as a proud city among giant plains, dwarfed on all sides by the western Amazon jungle. None of which could be seen by DeeAnn or anyone else in the vehicle thanks to a torrential downpour.
“We got hit by the mother of all storms, and we’re now trying to make our way to some place called Pebas.” DeeAnn’s side window was abruptly covered by a wave of water as they passed through an intersection.
“How’s everyone else?”
“Good,” she said, raising her voice over the beating of the windshield wipers. She looked to Dulce next to her. Her small face was plastered against the opposite window in what could only be described as fascination. “Apparently some are doing better than others.”
“What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re all fine, although Steven is not exactly my favorite person at the moment.”
On the other end, Alison looked playfully at Neely. “What’s that? Steve Caesare’s not your favorite person?” She covered the phone’s microphone with her hand and whispered excitedly to Neely. “He’s still available!”
Neely Lawton stared at her, turning several shades of red from embarrassment. “Shut up!”
“What’s in Pebas?” Alison asked, removing her hand.
“I don’t know. Steven isn’t telling me.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, no it doesn’t.” DeeAnn rocked in her seat after a large dip in the road. “Anyway, I can’t talk for long. I just wanted to check in.”
“Thanks, DeeAnn. I’m glad you’re all okay. We’ve ha
d a few surprises here.”
“Anything bad?”
“No. Not bad. More like…astounding.”
“That’s great. I look forward to hearing all about it when I get back.”
“Deal.”
DeeAnn smiled. “Thanks, Ali. I needed a quick pick-me-up. When Steven stops talking, I get nervous.”
“I know the feeling. Hang in there and call back when you can.”
“I will. Thanks.”
DeeAnn hung up the phone and watched as Caesare twisted around from the seat in front of her.
“Please tell me you forgot I was in the car with you.”
She gave him a devious smile. “Whoops.”
The deluge continued for the entire duration of the drive. Outside, the heavy rain left little to see, even out the front windshield. The bright headlights behind them were the only evidence that the other two vehicles were still there, carrying Juan and the rest of Caesare’s team.
The rain eventually began to lighten. Shortly afterwards, the Peruvian driver next to Caesare slowed and turned onto a small muddy road which was almost entirely hidden in the dense jungle. DeeAnn jumped when giant leaves began slapping the sides of the vehicle as it bounced and rattled over a trail not much wider than a set of tire tracks. After a few miles, the slapping gradually disappeared and the leaves were replaced by bright green grass on both sides, illuminated by the headlights.
Moments later they caught sight of an approaching structure with its shadowy shape rising into the darkness. Upon closer inspection, they watched the outline materialize into an old Quonset hut with dim glowing lights inside. The shadow of another unmistakable shape emerged next to the building –– a large airplane sitting idle in the tall grass.
Stopping next to the old building, DeeAnn could make out the words “La Vida Del Aire” painted in large red letters on the plane’s fuselage.
The driver climbed out at the same time as Caesare, who briefly ducked back in his own door and grinned at them. “Wait right here.”
The door slammed shut before she could think of a reply, leaving her and Dulce sitting in silence, silhouetted in the bright glow of the vehicle’s headlights directly behind them.
“Wait right here?”
Dulce didn’t reply. She was trying to touch the small streams of water zigzagging down the other side of her window.
DeeAnn watched as the other three men’s shadows passed her window and joined both Caesare and their driver. Together, the five climbed a short set of wooden steps. Pushing open a door to a scarcely lit room, they all disappeared inside.
The metal door banged shut behind them as the men examined what appeared to be more a living room than an office. In fact, even calling it a living room was a stretch. The only two furniture items of note consisted of a ratty leather couch in the middle and a large, dark wood table with nonmatching chairs nearby.
Along the right wall, miscellaneous crates and empty boxes were stacked neatly against the hut’s metal frame which rose above them, echoing the fading raindrops outside. Underfoot, wooden planks squeaked almost as loudly as the door when the men moved forward. They stopped again when another man in his late fifties appeared from the far end. He was dressed in faded blue coveralls and a wide brimmed hat, dripping from both sides.
“Buenos dias, Ricardo.” The stranger stepped forward into the light, revealing red cheeks and a thin graying beard. He motioned to the ceiling and the sound of rain picking back up. “What are you doing out in this?”
The driver, Ricardo, waved. “Buenos dias, Joe. I have some Americans come to see you.”
From under his brim, Joe peered curiously at Caesare and the other men. “You don’t say. And what might you boys want?”
“A little help,” Caesare replied. He then cocked his head slightly. “Your accent sounds an awful lot like a Texan.”
“Oklahoma,” the man corrected, stepping closer. “Been an ex-pat almost as long as I spent there though. What kind of help you and your giant friend looking for?”
Corso gave Caesare a sidelong glance but remained silent.
“We’re hoping for a ride.”
“A ride?” He closed one eye, suspiciously. “You boys in trouble?”
Caesare grinned. “Not yet.”
He noticed the tattoo on Tiewater’s forearm. “You military?”
“Not as far as you know.”
“Then what are ya?”
“How about environmentalists?”
Joe chuckled. “Well, they sure are growing you big these days. Okay, I’ll bite. What’s a bunch of environmentalists need a ride for on a night like this?”
“Surveying mostly. We’re having trouble finding a ride in from the north.”
“That’s what I hear. That must be some damn important surveying.”
Caesare slid a backpack off his shoulder and approached the table. He unzipped a large pocket and pulled out five stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills. “You could say that.”
Joe studied the bills and slowly shook his head. “I ain’t going to jail for anybody. Jail in South America is a hell of a lot different than the States. It doesn’t take shipping much of anything illegal to spend the rest of your life in a place I don’t wanna be in.”
“That makes five of us. We just want a ride, Joe, and quickly. You’re the closest and can get us the farthest.”
He eyed the money again, uneasy. Men dropping money like that usually had a heap of trouble not far behind them. “What makes you think that plane outside even flies?”
“Because it would be awfully hard to make your secret drops over the border without one. Food and medical supplies don’t fly themselves under the radar.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Caesare grinned again and stepped forward in his dripping wet boots. “Humanitarian missions can be a sensitive topic. Especially in countries like Venezuela who don’t like to admit they have serious problems, even when their governments are crumbling around them. They’d rather let thousands of their citizens starve than appear weak and admit they need help.
“And the aid they do receive is always highly visible. With things like documentation, customs inspections, and import clearances. Bureaucracy that slows things down and gets a lot of things lost in the process. Am I right?”
“How would I know?”
“Not surprisingly, some organizations take the most expedient route and simply drop supplies themselves. Usually at dusk and in areas that aren’t well monitored.”
The older man folded his arms, remaining quiet.
“Joe, our goals here aren’t all that different. If you don’t out us, we won’t out you.”
“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”
Caesare shook his head. “I’ve never been much for coercion. Just consider it another drop. Prepaid. And a way to help a whole lot more people.”
“Yeah? How many more?”
“More than you can count.”
Joe nodded, then held up his hands. “All right. Don’t tell me any more. I reckon the less I know, the better.”
Tiewater smiled. “You and us both.”
“Well, we can’t go anywhere until this storm eases up. A few hours at the very least. And I don’t know where you’re headed, but there ain’t many places to land if you’re going east. So I don’t know how far you’re gonna get.”
Caesare opened his mouth to speak when they were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening again. They turned to see DeeAnn step inside from out of the rain, holding Dulce in her arms.
Joe’s eyes opened wide with surprise at the sight of the gorilla.
“Something tells me this is one of the things I probably shouldn’t know.”
It was dawn before the storm began to abate and move north again. Caesare’s team finished packing the plane while DeeAnn and Juan stood near a wall of the forested jungle, waiting and watching Dulce sniff and nibble on various plant leaves. They had enough food for her o
n the plane to last several days, but it was an opportunity for Dulce to acclimate her diet if possible.
This good.
DeeAnn examined the tree and compared it to a small book that covered many of the indigenous species of the area.
“Is that one okay?” Juan asked.
“She certainly seems to think so.” DeeAnn picked one of the leaves and held it next to the book. “Ipomoea something. Says it’s a variant of a sweet potato.”
Juan frowned. “Are you supposed to eat the leaves?”
“They’re edible.” She took a bite. “Tastes a little like sweetened spinach. Here.”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
DeeAnn laughed and caught Juan peering at the airplane over a hundred yards away. Joe was beneath it, running his checks.
“You okay?”
“I guess so. I’m just worried.”
“About what?”
“Everything.” Juan struggled to understand what it was exactly that was bothering him. Maybe he was overly sensitive after their last trip. Maybe he was too exhausted to think clearly. Or maybe he was thinking clearly and his last trip had awakened a new level of paranoia in him, or perhaps common sense.
The two were interrupted by Dulce. Without warning, she sprang to her feet and ran between them toward an approaching Steve Caesare. He caught the gorilla in mid-leap and raised her up onto his shoulder.
“Everybody ready?”
“I think so. We were just doing a little foraging. In case we run out of food.”
“Good idea. How about you, Juan?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
DeeAnn reached for Dulce. “We need another potty break. There’s no toilet on that plane.”
She lowered Dulce to the ground and headed back toward the hut. The structure was now clearly visible in the morning light, and completely covered in rust.
As he watched them leave, Caesare turned to Juan. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Look, I know this isn’t easy. But I do appreciate you coming with us.”
Catalyst (Breakthrough Book 3) Page 20
