Blood Web: Caitlin Diggs Series #1

by Gary Starta

  Through the application of vibration and language—two components of the GWEN and HARRP systems—DNA could be manipulated as if it were a biological Internet. The proof was out there! Living DNA can be reached through language modulated laser rays and radio waves. The Schenkers would bring all of Wolvington’s outrageous claims to fruition. But there was still one problem. Like a stray hair stuck in your eye, the problem continued to perplex and frustrate Wolvington to no end. How could these waves be integrated into the human nervous system without causing radiation damage?

  The Schenkers wrestled with this question and got very close to answering it (thanks to Tom Wolvington’s persistence), but the key element would elude them. The Schenkers would die over this compulsion, leaving Project Right Hand with only a working theory.

  Initially, Angelika and Karsten left their homeland by choice. Ultimately, they orphaned their son through consequence—the consequence of allowing themselves to be manipulated by Tom Wolvington’s vigilance and enthusiasm. These were the two key ingredients the young colonel had deployed very successfully to attract the late German scientists to his program. Like moths to a flame, the Schenkers could not resist the colonel’s charm. The trust he garnered from the Joint Chiefs of Staff was no accident.

  Tom Wolvington’s round-the-clock involvement with Project Gray Matter pleased the Joint Chiefs of Staff to no end. His reports to the chiefs were always handed in far ahead of schedule and included rich detail. Tom voluntarily created a spreadsheet, which he updated daily. It denoted various ways GWEN frequency emissions could be used to induce specific mood disorders.

  The ambitious colonel was hoping his superiors would soon see the bigger picture. The waves emitted from GWEN towers could serve a far greater purpose than mentally disabling an enemy. The waves could be used in conjunction with an organic component, to not only control the minds of all Americans, but also to alter the genetic coding of select individuals for the purpose of advancing human evolution.

  Wolvington knew this was true. He just didn’t have the hard facts to back it up. But damn the torpedoes, he couldn’t wait any longer for evidence. He decided to impress his bosses with eagerness and ingenuity, firing off a report to the Joint Chiefs that recanted all his childhood dreams. General Drake did his best to calm the ripples Tom’s proposal had caused with Chairman General Montgomery Page. Even the most immoral, leather-skinned military honchos were reduced to chicken-shit teens watching their first horror flick. Wolvington’s report made their skin crawl.

  “Just what the hell is your man proposing?” Page seethed. “I didn’t know the American public was the enemy.”

  “He is ambitious, sir. He only wants the best for all Americans.” That’s about all Drake could say. Fortunately, it was enough to save Wolvington’s job.

  Later that day, Drake cursed out Wolvington.

  “You know Page almost had you ousted today, Colonel.”

  The sarcasm Drake used to describe Wolvington’s rank was not lost on Tom.

  Right then and there, Wolvington knew Drake and the rest of these men would never be fit to walk among the elite. Their attitudes had already poisoned them. It was highly doubtful a tweaking of their genetic coding could alter their fate now.

  From here on, the colonel would keep his bold plans under wraps. Stepping covertly outside the boundaries of the military would be necessary to ensure humankind’s next evolutionary jump. The risk was well worth the consequences. Tom could not fathom how the Joint Chiefs could not understand this simple concept.

  His anger aged like a fine wine over the course of the next few years. It quietly surged within his mortality. He chided his superiors underneath his breath all the while, citing that great men shouldn’t be afraid of taking chances. He was convinced of their simplicity, just as much as he was skilled in his duplicity. These men were afraid to become the most influential leaders of history. But that was alright, because Col. Tom Wolvington would gladly take the baton and run the race for them, a race that bestowed the ultimate gift to the winner: to become the first leader to evolve into a god.

  Recruitment of DARPA scientists from outside the United States was just another violation of protocol waiting to happen. In the military, or just about any other organization, the right hand rarely knows what the left hand is doing. Tom cursed the hypocrisy. So what was another breach in protocol? Besides, nobody would give a damn about procedure when he devised a way for men to become more than the sum of their parts.

  Weren’t these men even the slightest bit curious as to how geniuses came to be? Did anyone ever stop to ponder this? Well, Tom Wolvington did. He believed great men and women were temporarily operating at a higher level when they made revolutionary discoveries. He just needed to assemble the right men and women to figure out how this higher plane could be achieved on a full-time basis.

  The Schenkers’ participation would soon prove that cells could be reprogrammed without the need of surgery. All you had to do was emit the correct frequency wave. Although the Schenkers lived in Germany and a vast ocean separated them from Wolvington, distance was not important. Wolvington perceived the couple as kindred spirits, and spirits were not confined to space and time. He believed God had created them for the purpose of Right Hand. He would bring them together, like they were ingredients for a recipe.

  The Schenkers had conducted extensive research on biochip technology while working as professors at the German Federal Institute of Physics and Technology. To Wolvington’s dismay, they never came close to winning a Nobel Prize. Things would be a lot different for the Schenkers in America, Wolvington thought. They would receive not only appreciation but also keys to his magic kingdom.

  Wolvington perceived Angelika and Karsten as symphony conductors. They could manipulate human physiology with a wave of their hands. His assumptions were largely correct. Their biochip could have easily revolutionized medicine. But federal approval never came for the Schenkers. Wolvington sensed the German government was afraid of how this technology might be used.

  Without a doubt, the chip could have been used to chemically alter ones circulatory system for non-altruistic purposes. But the biochip could have also been used benevolently. It could have reversed chemical disorders including thyroid disease and bipolar disorder through electromagnetic manipulation of biorhythms—the only stumbling block—the government’s ban on biochip technology.

  Were Germans afraid someone might alter this technology for the purpose of mind control? Wolvington wrestled with the government’s logic for pulling the plug. Their ban made it impossible for the private sector to pick up the ball and fund the chip’s manufacture. A deal was eventually struck with the institute to allow the biochip to be used in the future manufacture of artificial life. The Schenkers continued to tinker with their invention, hoping someday it could be integrated into an android to create realistic behavioral and mood responses. But when would that someday come?

  Wolvington decided to capitalize on the Schenker’s plight. Screw the Germans. They would be left out in the cold for not recognizing genius when they saw it. But this time it would be blamed on weakness, not arrogance. In the 1940s, they would have boldly accepted this new technology—even killed for it. But today, nearly half a century after the fall of the Third Reich, the German government finally decided it had a conscience.

  Tom could not understand their folly. They had become pathetic, allowing another government to scoop up their treasures. Tom devised a plan of action. He would invite the Schenkers to a DARPA conference and bend their ears. He was sure a Systems and Technological Symposium would peak their interest. He was right.

  He didn’t even have to sell Project Gray Matter to the Schenkers. They too had become disillusioned with their government. They spoke of their frustrations openly. Wolvington easily convinced the couple they should relocate to Fort Worth, Texas, and join DARPA at once. Wolvington played upon their concerns like a cellist bowing the lowest note on his instrument. He had the couple belie
ving he was actually sympathetic to their plight as individuals. “By confining your genetic breakthroughs to non-organic creations,” Wolvington told them, “living, breathing children will be condemned to suffer in silence. How can you raise your boy in such a world?” In truth, Wolvington would have preferred to severe the weakest link—not to coddle or nurture it back to optimum health.

  The colonel also showed no mercy when talking about the Germans’ attempt to put on a diplomatic bandage on the situation. “They’ve agreed to let you use the chip on androids. Well, have you seen any androids walking around lately? You need to utilize your talent during your life span. Working on Project Gray Matter will allow you to do just that.”

  The Schenkers enlisted, believing Wolvington’s intentions were nothing but altruistic. Project Gray Matter was soon renamed. It would now be known as Right Hand. The Schenkers had single-handedly revitalized the effort overnight. Tom Wolvington slept soundly for the first time in years, dreaming of great expectations, believing the Schenkers would be able to devise a plan of electromagnetic manipulation that didn’t include radiation poisoning.

  The colonel was partially correct in his assessment. Yes, the Schenkers would identify an organic material that could safely work in conjunction with the brain manipulation, but that organic substance was very hard, if not impossible, to find. And there was one other problem. Wolvington used spy ware to confirm the Schenkers were contacting family members back in Germany. The DARPA confidentiality agreement specifically stated all connections with their homeland were to be completely severed. The Joint Chiefs of Staffs was not about to share technological breakthroughs with the global economy.

  The DARPA leaders still viewed the research as defense related. But for Wolvington, the sharing of this technology would be far more catastrophic than mere weapon loss. If another country got its hands on the GWEN and HAARP systems, it would be a race to who controlled whom first. The real danger lay in the fact that Thomas Wolvington might not make the cut if the technology went international. Someone might not deem him so special after all. And Wolvington was not about to let that happen.

  Wolvington enlisted the aid of Major Schumacher, who was only too happy to rectify the situation. He had every reason to. His parents were part of the program. Schumacher was not about to let some foreigners’ mess with his parents’ life work. Replacing the Schenkers’ brand new rear tires with baloney skins made the security breach go away quite nicely.

  Angelika and Karsten were killed on impact when their car smashed headlong into a tree. Police investigators ruled their tires had blown out while navigating a curve on a Fort Worth highway.

  Wolvington was never sure, but the couple seemed to sense their work would eventually become very detrimental to the general populace. They realized something was amiss. Their suspicions were born the day Wolvington inquired if the properties of the crystal could be dispersed along the countryside via chemtrails. The Schenkers wondered why the masses should be inoculated in such a fashion. Chemtrails would release aerosol dispersion via plane once the quartz could be dematerialized and re-transformed into a liquid or vapor-like substance.

  Angelika and Karsten believed they had finally gotten their chance to help the individual: to cure all chemical imbalances. They didn’t see the mad man coming. For that matter, neither did their ancestors. Their country had suffered greatly at the hands of an arrogant monster once upon a time. They wouldn’t make the same mistake. The couple quickly took out a life insurance policy to be paid to their son upon his eighteenth birthday. Angelika and Karsten didn’t want young Lukas to come into such money as a minor. The child already suffered mental problems due to their relocation. They also feared someone like Tom Wolvington would find a way to take the boy’s fortune. The Schenkers decided it would be best to keep their boy veiled in mediocrity whether they were dead or alive.

  Their deaths dealt a serious blow to Project Right Hand, effectively diffusing the colonel’s dream of ascension—at least for the time being. Funding for the project would soon dwindle and the annual budget was cut from eight figures to six. The president finally had enough. He asked Capitol Hill why it was taking so long to determine if radiation was lethal. “We all knew that using cell towers was bad from the get go. How long does it take for you guys to definitively determine that radiation is a bad thing?”

  Two years later, funding was cut off completely. However, the band of DARPA scientists vowed they would one day continue the project, despite the setback. Colonel Wolvington and Major Schumacher counted upon their vigilance. They would do their best to keep the flame of their candle burning brightly. All they had to do was get their hands on a special quartz crystal to bring the project back.

  It was unfortunate for Wolvington that only certain crystals could achieve this feat. Rumors persisted, claiming that only thirteen crystals of this kind were in existence. Other myths claimed that aliens brought these rocks to Earth many centuries ago. Other tales foretold of alien excavations on Mars. But the most bizarre theory centered on the lost civilization of Atlantis. This legend maintains crystals were purposely left by this lost civilization so future humanity could evolve.

  Tom Wolvington believed he could still be proved right—in time. Algorithms and biorhythms would sync in perfect harmony, creating melodious harmonies...

  “Everyone’s a Mozart, Everyone’s Chopin...

  “Everyone’s a da Vinci, Everything is grand...

  But Tom still didn’t take into account all the ecological and biological effects upon the human body. He didn’t yet realize some members of his elite network just might become deranged maniacs thanks to pollution, drugs, and the allure of junk food. That maybe his elite team would eventually end up sucking every ounce of seratonin from each other’s bleeding body in order to maintain their waking dream state. Yes, Big Bad Wolvington would unwittingly open up his kingdom…and quite a different tune would play in the background then…

  “Everyone’s a Manson, Everywhere is pain...

  “Everyone’s a Hitler, Everyone’s deranged....

  Chapter 24

  The change in Gayle Swenson’s work performance had been dramatic. The manager of Plates on the Move could not help jumping to conclusions. He equated Gayle’s metamorphosis to the strange, long-haired dude with the stone cold blue eyes. Ever since Swenson laid her eyes on that boy, she had literally become a role model for American youth. She punched in on time, took fewer breaks, and willingly reheated food for customers without baring a single fang. The manager still suspected Gayle Swenson of “loose hips”—despite her protests. Then came her startling announcement: she was engaged to the teenage drifter.

  The distraught manager of Plates on the Move looked up with disdain at the file photo of Lukas Schenker on the TV set perched above the cashier’s booth. He would contact the FBI and report the strange long-haired man’s connection to his star employee.

  ***

  Gayle Swenson never realized her work performance had improved. She was part of a bigger plan, gladly playing her part. Family values could do that. The positive impact of family now branched its vines to the outside world, just as the way ripples are created in a pond by a stone. Gayle believed she was now one of the ripples, helping to spread the word to all the low-life heathen scum who happened to frequent Plates on the Move for their daily serving of flapjacks and sausage.

  But Gayle was about to find out how her new God worked in mysterious ways. In addition to the growing sickness she felt in her belly, something else was gnawing away at her inner being. She could only describe it as a premonition. Swenson never glanced at the news on her computer’s Internet home page before, but today she felt strangely compelled to do so. She couldn’t believe her eyes, there, loading right before her eyes, was a picture of her beloved man.

  Praise the Lord above! Maybe he’s been recognized for spreading the word...

  Gayle’s heart dropped. She realized her man was not spreading the word after all. In fact, her
man was not even Charlie Jones. Her man’s name was Lukas Dietrich Schenker, and he was wildly popular for far less sanctimonious reasons. He was now one of the FBI’s most wanted.

  Gayle pounded her fists on the heartless machine and unplugged it from the wall. The laptop had probably malfunctioned. How else could it have misconstrued her fiancé’s word? The news people had it all wrong, Gayle railed, casting wide, disbelieving eyes at her white ceiling that she now perceived as an obstruction to the heavens.

  After taking a few deep breaths, Swenson realized things would probably work themselves out. She still had her faith. One day her man would return. He would take her hand and they would both look upon a bright blue sky—free from all life’s barriers.

  ***

  Jake Campbell had been all set to run, until he remembered his father’s teachings: a wild animal that only relies on flight response will eventually meet its demise. Yes, Jake was now being tracked just like the jumping jack rabbit, the white-tailed deer, or mythical white buffalo. If Jake had learned anything about survival from his father it was this: there is strength in numbers. Rather than fleeing into the hands of his prey, Jake would turn to law enforcement to seek shelter. Clinging to the precarious notion that not all the government’s men sided with his attacker, Campbell summoned the courage to walk right through the glass doors of the FBI headquarters on Pennsylvania Avenue.

  Jake was in the middle of his third sentence with a bureau receptionist when two security men popped out of nowhere. They flanked him like fighter jets on maneuvers. They were dressed in black suits and black shades. Not surprisingly, their moods were black as well.

  Jake did his best to continue his explanation while the men whisked him onto the nearest elevator. Neither of the guards acknowledged Jake. Apparently, a simple head nod or hand gesture was not part of their vocabulary. As the elevator whined up the chute to its destination, Campbell wished for a simple primeval grunt. But it never came. Jake knew it would be pointless to ask where he was being taken, so he fell silent. One of the men withdrew a foot-long scanning device. He waved the wand over Campbell’s body. Satisfied with the result, the G-man returned the device back to the inside pocket of his vest.