by Michael Bray
He smiled, and Marcus thought it was a bitter expression rather than one of fondness, an intuition which proved to be correct as Genaro went on.
"Sadly, my superiors refused to authorise the trip, claiming it was a waste of valuable resources that would be better spent elsewhere, which, as we all know is ironic considering the trillions of dollars spent by the US alone on their military programs. Anyhow, that’s not the issue here. The decline of the funding was final, yet fortunately, something was just around the corner which would change the lives of everyone and make those in power change their mind."
"Nine-eleven, right?" Marcus said.
Genaro nodded "Exactly. The most important day in recent history was, as we all know a terrible tragedy, and yet it opened the door to my research. With war looming and a world shell-shocked and frightened, the quarter of a million I had asked for to do my research which could directly help the war effort seemed like peanuts. In fact, I was given an open budget. For the first time, I was given free rein to do the work I had been trying to do on a shoestring budget for the last few years."
"Did you and Draven find the monkey?" Marcus asked.
"I did. Draven didn’t come with me. He said he had changed his mind and was moving on to other projects. He had been invited to do some research in Antarctica and thought the isolation would be better to help repair his reputation. He did, however, give me extensive notes and directions which were enough for us to locate the animal, which we have since learned only inhabits that particular area of the Congo, or at least to the best of our knowledge."
"Was it true?" Harding asked. "About the regenerative properties?"
"If you mean was Draven lying, then the answer is no. In fact, he was quite conservative in his report."
"So he was right?" Harding said.
"He was more than right. He had discovered a creature which would change the face of genetics forever." Genaro knew they were all hanging on his every word and waiting for him to go on, yet he paused, clearly enjoying the attention. "We brought samples, both alive and dead, of the monkeys back to our facility in America and began our experiments. Almost immediately, we understood we were dealing with something far beyond anything we could ever have hoped to comprehend. This amazing creature had genetic markers which overnight made our prior research redundant. Cell regeneration. Self-repairing tissue. We showed our initial findings to my superiors, who in turn unrestricted our budget and told us to spend whatever we needed to further the research. As you can imagine, it was a dream come true. We were told to find a way to transfer the genetic properties of the monkeys over to humans as quickly as possible no matter the cost."
"Surely that's impossible," Marcus said, his mind boggling at the idea.
"Not only is it possible, we were successful. Humans and primate DNA is ninety-six percent the same. There are only minute differences between the two. There are actual examples of creatures in the animal kingdom who possess these same traits. Certain lizards, for example, can grow a new tail if one is lost during a fight. Starfish can also replicate themselves into a whole new animal just from an off cut of a leg. The problem had always been the vast difference in genetic structure. With the tiger monkey, that particular problem was eliminated. We were able to devise a product...call it a virus if you will based on the primate DNA. When delivered to a human subject, this virus would bond at a molecular level with its host, essentially fusing together to become a singular being and in doing so changing its properties."
"I’m not sure I understand,” Susan said, glancing around the table to see if anyone shared her confusion. “You’re suggesting you modified people's DNA?"
"It's really not that hard,” Genaro said with a shrug of his narrow shoulders. “You would be surprised at the breakthroughs in science and medicine which have never been made public. For example, have you ever heard of a president or royal family member being diagnosed with cancer? Why do you think that is?"
Glances were exchanged around the table at such a crazy idea, and yet it made sense.
“Don’t look so shocked,” Genaro said with a grin. “We’ve had a cure for it since the mid-nineties. The only reason it hasn’t been released is because the pharmaceutical trade is worth billions of dollars a year and it’s more prudent to keep the cure under wraps.
A murmur went around the table at the revelation, all apart from Marcus, who remained unmoved. "What did the monkey virus change?" he asked, pulling the meeting back on track
"Everything," Genaro replied, this time with a grin that was of admiration for his work. "Normally, human trials take years to be possible. In this case, because of the genetic similarity between species, it was quite straightforward. The results were astounding. Our brief was to create a brand of super soldier. One who was designed for maximum efficiency with few needs as far as sustenance and care. We achieved that and more. We called it Project Apex. Essentially we took the current flawed human DNA and changed it. Improved it. Ironed out the flaws and made it better."
"You're talking about playing god here," Marcus said, unsure if he was more horrified or offended at Genaro.
"I don’t believe in god," Genaro fired back. "Only science. Evolution. I deal in fact. Black and white. I deal in tangible absolutes. Surely, you of all people understand that? I’m led to believe your own work ethic is similar?"
For the second time, Genaro had shot Marcus down and put him in his place. Marcus was starting to develop a strong dislike for the Englishman.
"Back to your initial question about what our product changed. Let me put it into perspective.” Genaro put a finger to his lips as he considered how to approach it. “Imagine a man who feels no pain. Imagine a man who is immune to extreme temperatures. A man who doesn’t need to eat or drink. A man who doesn’t need to sleep. Imagine a man given access to the full potential of his brain, giving him superior intelligence, decision-making skills and the ability to process and use information in real time at an almost computer processor like level. A man with unlimited stamina, a man who barely ages."
"You make it sound like they are invulnerable," Marcus said, feeling his stomach tighten.
"Essentially, they are. Stab him and the wound will heal itself. Cut off a limb and within three months it will grow back. They are physically and mentally superior to the rest of us in every single way. They are us, but with the flaws removed and the positives enhanced. If there is a god, this is surely the design he intended."
"How is any of this relevant?" Harding said. "Has someone discovered this technology and plans to steal it? If other countries were aware of the potential of this, it could be a disaster."
"It's entirely relevant," Genaro said. “You all need to understand, this isn’t some kind of glimpse into what could be possible. This has been implemented already. We have Apex soldiers stationed in small units all over the globe."
"Wait, you're telling me there are people - genetically modified people out there right now?" Marcus said.
"Yes, which is why we called you all here today. It seems our testing was rushed, and there may be a significant problem with the programme."
"Not may be," Robbins snapped, speaking for the first time. "I've seen this first hand. Those bastards are out of control."
Genaro frowned and stammered, thrown off by the commander’s interjection.
"This is Commander James Robbins from Camp Blanding down in Florida,” Genaro said. “He was privy to an incident a fortnight ago which alerted us to a potential issue, one which I’m afraid to say has escalated enough for us to bring you all into this meeting today."
Marcus straightened in his chair. He had the feeling things were about to get interesting. The perpetually grumpy Genaro went on.
"Commander Robbins was on site when an argument at a basketball game at his base got out of hand between three Apex soldiers and several regular forces personnel. There was an.... incident which led to some unfortunate deaths."
"Let me jump right in there," Robbins grun
ted, shooting a glare at Genaro. "Let’s not coat this in bullshit. It wasn’t just an incident. Some of our guys got into an argument with your super soldiers and were butchered. Sixty-seven dead. Sixty-seven. Good men. Good soldiers trying to enjoy their downtime before your supermen came in and cut them to shreds."
"Butchered?” Susan said, flashing a worried glance at Harding.
"Yeah. It was a damn bloodbath." Robbins grunted.
"Did nobody restrain them?" Marcus said "All those people against three?"
"Who the hell are you?" Robbins snapped, glaring at Marcus, then continuing on before he could reply. "Of course, they tried. The base is a wreck. It looks like a fucking war zone. Thanks to these super soldiers this idiot created, we didn’t stand a chance."
"The time for pushing the blame is long gone," Genaro said, trying to regain control of the meeting. "We need to find a solution to this problem."
"Can’t you just call them back in?" Marcus said.
"You think we would have called this meeting if that was an option?" Genaro snapped. "We have over seventy Apex operatives stationed all over the globe. Days after the incident at Camp Blanding, as one they stopped following orders. It was some kind of coordinated mass decision which we don’t yet understand. A few days after that, they went dark. They have gone off the grid."
"So they've gone rogue?" Marcus asked.
"Yes, that seems to be the case. We have no idea where any of the Apex teams are, what they might be doing or why they have become so aggressive."
"It seems to me you people didn’t test this virus of yours before you starting screwing around with people's genetic codes," Marcus grunted.
"Look, this meeting isn’t about passing the blame. It’s about devising a solution" Genaro stuttered.
"No, he's right." Robbins cut in. "Seems to me like you and your people made a mess and now expect someone else to come in and clean it up."
Genaro took a deep breath and had a sip of water. Marcus noticed his hands were shaking as he screwed the cap on the bottle. "Look," he said, taking a deep breath. "I’m fully aware of my role in this. And not making excuses, I was also following orders. True, I was caught up in the possibilities and the excitement of the work we were doing, but please try and see it from my point of view We were breaking new ground. Pioneering new technologies. If anything, I’m guilty of losing focus. Did we speed through human trials? Yes, we did. Should we have devoted more time and money to thorough testing of the virus? Again, yes. In our defence, we were under pressure to deliver a product from the very highest rungs of the government ladder. Whoever is responsible, passing the blame won’t help us to deal with this situation."
"And what exactly is the situation?" Marcus asked. "Can you tell us what we're dealing with here?"
"Well, you are looking at a force of nature, unlike anything we have ever had to deal with before. They are regular men, so can hide in plain sight. Upon close inspection, yellow pigmentation can be seen under the top layer of the epidermis of the arms and neck as a result of the genetic modification, however, this would only be visible up close. These men were chosen for their intelligence primarily, which will have been boosted a hundred fold by the bonding of the virus. They don’t age, nor do they need to sleep. They are impervious to cold and pain and rarely need to eat. They also have an incredible ability to self-heal from almost any injury within a matter of hours. Sometimes minutes. They are essentially better versions of us with none of our weaknesses."
"We already know all that. The important question is, can they be killed?" Robbins asked.
"Oh, they are still human. The problem is the regenerative powers which make death by common methods so difficult. The only sure way is to destroy the brain. The other problem, which follows on from Commander Robbins's situation in Florida, is that the Apex team members had started to show increased levels of aggression, with the slightest incident sparking them to react with violence. We have received a growing number of reports of these ‘Ragers’ acting in groups and attacking civilians. Pack hunting, if you will. Some groups are stealing large quantities of cash and supplies. We suspect they are planning something, some kind or retaliatory event, although why we don’t know."
"Could I ask you a question?" Marcus asked.
"Go ahead."
"All judgement and blame aside, how much do you actually know about this virus? What I mean is could whatever is happening, the pack behaviour, the group aggressions, be at all linked to the virus itself?"
"Possibly. In fact, it's likely." Genaro said, folding his hands in front of him.
"But you don’t know?"
"No. The real expert on this is Richard Draven. He has studied the monkeys themselves for years, certainly far longer than we had the time to. If anyone can help us to understand them and their behaviours, it's him.”
"Okay," Marcus said, finally seeing where he could help and take a little control. "Leave that to us. We'll find him and have him brought in to see if he can help. Do we have any intel at all on where these Apex teams could be hiding out?"
"No. I'm afraid to say we don’t know anything at all."
"We need to get teams on the ground. We need to look at anywhere large enough and secluded enough where groups of these soldiers might hide out. Josh, can your people cover the homeland locations? I assume we have reports on last known locations and the like?"
"Yeah no problem,"
"Okay, good. Susan, you have international contacts. Liaise with them and gather what intel you can. We need to find out where these people are and how they are communicating. I want emails and phone calls monitored. Treat this as high priority. We also need to make contact with local governments in affected areas and make sure they are on high alert. We can’t have this getting out into the media, so be sparing with the information. If you encounter any resistance, come straight to me."
Josh and Susan nodded agreement.
"What about the alert level?" Mike asked, wringing his hands.
"Leave it where it is for now. With luck, we can contain this without causing panic. Our top priority is finding Richard Draven and bringing him in." He turned to Genaro. "These lootings you mentioned. Do we have any recent intel as far as sightings of these Apex soldiers may be when they were last spotted?"
"We had a sighting two days ago in London, although it's unconfirmed."
"It’s good enough. I’ll need to speak to the British prime minister, see if we can mobilise a team over there to search the area."
"I can probably get that done for you," Genaro said. "The Prime Minister and I went to Cambridge together. We're old friends. I can have a word in his ear and get the SAS involved. They are the best of the best."
"Fine, let’s make a move on this now. We need to deal with this before it gets out of hand."
CHAPTER FIVE
RAF SPADERDAM
CUMBRIA,
UNITED KINGDOM.
THE RECREATIONAL ROOM was warm, a blessed relief from the near-zero temperatures outside. Stanhope burst through the door, his cheeks spotted pink from the cold.
"Fuckin ell' Stanny, shut the bloody door," barked Parker, his south London accent heavy with annoyance as he glanced up from the chessboard.
"Gimme a chance ya tosser," Stanhope responded as he kicked the door closed behind him. He crossed to the kitchen, switching on the kettle and dropping a tea bag into a cup with hands he could barely feel anymore.
"Cold?" Briggs said with a grin.
Stanhope gave Brigs the middle finger with his free hand. "Fuckin' freezin' out there mate," he said as he stirred his tea and sat beside Trig, who was busying himself with leering over the naked girl on page three of The Sun newspaper.
Without looking up from the silicon enhanced flesh on the page, Trig responded. "Tell me about it, dunno who we pissed off to get shipped all the way out here to the middle of nowhere. It was minus five earlier. Minus fucking five."
Stanhope pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes taking one
himself, and offering the pack to Trig, who took one, popping it in his mouth. "Cheers mate."
Trig, known more formally as Jason Trigon, had just turned twenty and was the rookie of the group. His blue eyes stared out from beneath a permanently furrowed brow as he lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply. "Any action out there, Stanny?"
Stanhope shook his head, sipping his coffee. "Nah mate, not a thing. Patrol is a waste of fuckin' time if you ask me. What time are you due out there?"
Trig put his paper down on his lap, taking another deep draught of his cigarette. "I'm up next mate, three till five in the fucking mornin’. Ungodly to be outside in this sort of cold."
Stanhope nodded, lowering his voice. "I’ve half a mind to come back out with ya mate, these wankers in here are starting to drive me mad, especially Parker."
Both glanced towards Parker, obliviously playing chess in the corner, his scrub of facial hair making him look dirty.
"Look at him," Stanhope grunted. "Calls himself a soldier, the scruffy bastard."
Trig snorted a laugh as the two friends shared a grin. "Must be bad mate if you'd rather walk the perimeter with me in this cold than stay here."
Stanhope grinned and shouted across the room. "Oi, Parker, you ever heard of a razor ya scruffy cunt?"
"Get fucked Stanhope ya wanker." Parker fired back.
Stanhope flicked Parker the middle finger, then nudged Trig in the arm with his elbow, continuing in a voice loud enough for Parker to hear. "That's the thing Trig, these cockney cunts think they own the place, fuckin southern twats. We’re up north now."
Stanhope could see Parker growing more and more frustrated. The rest of the soldiers were watching, anticipating a confrontation that had been brewing for weeks.
Parker swivelled on his chair. "You got something to say to me, Stanhope?"
Stanhope stood, raising his own voice. "What if I do? What you gonna do about it?"
Parker swept the chess board off the table, striding across the room and going nose to nose with Stanhope as everyone jumped in to hold the two apart.
