“Which is all to say, whoever stole version 3.4 is stuck with it. Which… is unfortunate.
“This version of the algorithm resulted in a high mortality rate for Rattus norvegicus, the common brown rat. The problem arose in what I like to call line noise in the genome. The algorithm was effective in that after two hundred thousand generations, some of the genes would express exactly what I wanted—but by then there was so much chaos, so much nonsense in the rest of the genetic material, that any attempts to insert the simulated genome into a live specimen resulted in the rat’s death.
“It has taken thousands of clinical experiments—work that is still ongoing—to isolate what we’re looking for. A genetic expression that will kick cancer’s ass.”
A beep sounded behind Juan, and he stopped the dictation. He turned to the rightmost workstation and smiled as the message “Pattern Matched” flashed on the screen.
Workstation 4 had found a matching sequence. That settled it. Whoever was responsible for the avian sample—the feather that resembled one from a Gouldian finch—had been using version 3.4.
Juan began scrolling through the results summary.
He was shocked at what he found.
The evolution on the avian sample had been run for two hundred thousand generations. That was what Juan had done for the rat evolution, but that was because their generations were so short. Two hundred thousand rat generations equaled only a four-thousand-year span of evolution—and even that had taken immense work to get right.
But sexual maturity on the Gouldian finch was between six and nine months, which meant someone had simulated over one hundred thousand years of evolution.
Juan couldn’t believe it. Even for the rats, he’d had to filter out almost ninety-five percent of the genetic changes in order to produce a living specimen. It was an absolute miracle that these ignoramuses had any clinical subjects that survived.
A chill ran up Juan’s back.
My God, what kind of animal did they end up creating?
###
Wearing a positive-pressure protective suit—more commonly known as a blue suit—Juan sat on the tall lab stool in front of the class-three biosafety cabinet. The hum of the air circulator echoed through the small level-four containment lab.
Juan hated working in these. His suit and the guaranteed air inflow of the biosafety cabinet were the only things keeping him from being contaminated.
Since the dictaphone wouldn’t survive the chemical decontamination shower he’d have to undergo upon leaving the lab, Juan pressed the button on the side of his pressurized suit.
It activated the microphone built into the headpiece of his blue suit and was supposed to transmit whatever he said to whoever was listening to those damned recordings he’d been asked to make.
Picking up the specimen cage that he’d brought in with him, he placed it into the biosafety cabinet and for a moment, he felt a pang of sadness for the tiny white mouse.
This was probably not going to go well for the mouse.
“I’m putting the cage with the live specimen of mus musculus into the biosafety enclosure.”
Juan flipped another switch near the cabinet and said, “The video recorder is now on.”
Leaning forward, he reached into the cabinet and opened the small refrigerated unit that contained the contaminated samples.
“I’ve opened the refrigeration unit and am now extracting one of the biopsy samples taken from the calf.”
Juan opened one of the sealed evidence bags and with tweezers, extracted one of the cow biopsy samples that had been taken in the field. He watched the mouse and waited.
“The sample has been extracted. So far, no reaction from the test subject.”
He leaned closer, yet still keeping himself away from the open entrance to the cabinet. The fur on the mouse moved with the inflow of the air being sucked into the containment cabinet.
“The sample looks like it hasn’t undergone any decomposition. The flesh has maintained normal density and the coloration is also normal.”
Juan began rearranging the cage and the sample within the cabinet.
“So far, no reaction by the test subject. I’m placing the test subject behind the sample to ensure there’s exposure.
“The test subject has taken notice of what he surely sees as food and has placed his nose against the near side of the cage, facing the sample.”
Glancing up at the wall clock, Juan waited.
After a few minutes had gone by without any reactions from the mouse, Juan leaned forward and pulled out some of the other samples from the refrigerated storage.
“So far, no further reactions from the specimen. One by one, I’m going to open other samples to see if there are any reactions.
“First, a biopsy sample of a cow from within the middle of the reported incident…
“After one minute elapsed, no reaction. Opening a soil sample taken from the same location as the previous sample…”
Juan continued opening the various evidence samples over the next twenty minutes, with no adverse reactions from the mouse.
Feeling frustrated, Juan resealed all the evidence but one. He carefully picked up a pair of blunt-tipped scissors. “Something unorthodox. I’m taking the first sample, the biopsy from the calf with the genetic anomalies, and cutting off a five-millimeter piece.”
Grabbing a set of tweezers, Juan said, “With tweezers, I’m bringing the five-millimeter sample closer to the test subject…
“The mouse has shown interest and is sniffing vigorously at what I’m holding just out of its reach.”
Juan cringed as he brought the tweezers even closer to the cage.
“The calf sample is now within reach; the specimen is touching it with his nose and—he’s taken the sample and looks to have ingested it.”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Juan said, “It’s 7:55 p.m., and so far, no reaction.”
###
Downing a large glass of water, Frank grinned at the large breakfast Megan had prepared for him. “Three flapjacks, a sausage patty, and one of your cheese omelets. I guess you’ve realized my appetite is back. Heck, I haven’t felt better in ages.”
Megan gave him that look that told him she was either going to start yelling or crying. “Franklin O’Reilly, I don’t care how good you think you feel. You said you felt fine before all this, remember? I need you to go have yourself checked out, you hear me?”
Frank wanted to argue with her, but his resolve crumbled under her gaze. He stabbed the sausage with his fork. “Fine. For you, I’ll do it. But I still say it’d be better to let sleeping dogs lie.”
At the word “dog,” Jasper popped his head up from the sofa and gave a questioning woof.
Megan laughed. “Go back to sleep, Jasper. It’s still early.”
Frank glanced at the dog as he stretched across the sofa and shook his head. Jasper was even bigger now than when he first showed up in their lives. Practically the size of a Great Dane. He looked back at Megan as she brought her dish to the table, heaped with eggs and sausage. “You know that dog is nearly twice the size of you now.”
“Aw, he’s just a big baby.” Megan patted Frank on his shoulder. “Just like you.”
Frank chewed on a bite of the sausage, all the while worrying about the doctor’s appointment. He really did feel fine and didn’t want to learn anything different from any of those doctors.
Megan glanced out the window as the sun began peering over the horizon. “I’ll call the VA again while you’re out with the boys, and this time I’ll find someone to answer the damned phone. Come back in for lunch and I’ll let you know when they managed to squeeze you in.”
Frank harrumphed as he filled his mouth with a steaming mound of omelet.
He really didn’t want to hear what the doctors had to say.
###
Megan lay on the sofa trying to watch the ancient TV, which flickered uncontrollabl
y.
“Jasper, I think that after nearly a quarter century, this stupid Zenith has finally given up the ghost.”
The dog, draped across her legs, lifted his head and gave out a quiet woof. His ears perked, and he began sniffing.
She rubbed his head. “That’s just the cornbread in the oven, silly boy.”
But Jasper didn’t settle down. A low growl emanated from his throat. He slid off the sofa and walked to the front door. As usual, he opened it himself—grasping the handle in his mouth and turning it. Even after all this time, it still amazed Megan how smart he was. He regularly let himself out when he needed to go to the bathroom.
Megan had walked over to the thirty-two-inch tube TV and smacked at the side of its cabinet, trying to get some semblance of a signal to come through, when she heard Jasper barking.
She would have ignored it—the dog was always chasing after something—if not for the shouts that followed.
She ran to the front door—and arrived on the porch to see a black van kicking up gravel and rocks as it sped away.
“What the heck!” Megan walked toward the side of the house and called out, “Jasper!”
The dog barked in response, and she spotted the chocolate lab sniffing around the back corner of the house, near the shed.
Megan approached. Her pulse quickened as she noticed a large black duffel bag lying near the metal shed. “Jasper, what happened?”
The large dog sniffed at the ground, picked up a scrap of cloth, and dropped it at her feet.
The ripped fabric was a sleeve torn from a flannel work shirt, and she felt a tickle of fear at the base of her neck. “Oh, puppy, did you chase someone away?” She patted his head, and noticed a scratch running along the side of his muzzle.
What had gotten into him? Jasper had never acted aggressively toward anyone before.
She pressed the button on the radio she always wore on her belt when Frank was out and about. “Honey, you there?”
“I’m just on my way back. What’s up?”
“Did you have anyone scheduled to come out and take a look at anything at the house?”
“No. Why, is someone there?”
Megan walked over to the duffel bag. “Well, there was somebody out back. You’d think they’d have come to the front door. Jasper must have scared them off because they left a bag of stuff behind.”
“The only thing that’s back there is the old shed that’s housing the well casing and the pump. We aren’t having any water-flow issues, and besides, you know I do most of that servicing myself. What’d they leave behind?”
Beside the shed, Megan saw something in the dirt that sent a surge of fear through her. “Oh, Frank. Whoever was here, they left a pair of bolt cutters beside the shed. They must have been trying to break in!” She peered inside the duffel bag. “And there’s a duffel full of boxes of rat poison pellets. What in the world…”
“Honey, I want you to go back in the house and call the sheriff right away. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Make sure you keep the shotgun with you, just in case.”
Megan snapped her fingers at Jasper. “Come on, you good boy. You were just protecting your mama, weren’t you? Let’s go call the sheriff and clean up your face from what that bad man did to you.”
###
Steve Chalmers held Olivia’s hand and stared at the screen the OBGYN had turned toward them. He almost didn’t believe his eyes. “You’re really pregnant.”
The doctor shifted the angle of the ultrasound transducer sitting on Olivia’s gelled belly and said in a heavy German accent, “I would say that based on these measurements, young Miss Olivia is about twelve weeks pregnant.”
Olivia beamed, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. But Steve had only one thought on his mind.
How is this possible?
Steve had first met Olivia in London; she was one of the cancer patients who had enrolled in his clinical trial.
At the time, she was nothing but a living skeleton, very much reminiscent of pictures he’d seen of Holocaust survivors. The twenty-eight-year-old had lost all of her hair from the aggressive chemo and radiation treatments she’d previously undergone. Yet even then, from within that walking corpse, stared blue eyes full of life.
Eyes that looked to him with the hope of a miracle.
That had been nearly half a year ago. Those eyes still sparkled when they glanced his way, and now there was something more there. Love. And he couldn’t deny the feelings that stirred within him when he looked at her.
The trial had been a fantastic success. Her cancer was in remission, her features had filled out once more, and her thick brown hair promised a future waterfall of perfectly straight hair.
But because of the earlier chemo and radiation, she was supposed to be sterile.
Being a parent hadn’t been in his plans. Could he be a parent?
His mind struggled with the concept as the doctor asked, “Would you like to know the sex?”
Olivia looked at Steve. “You want to know, don’t you?” Her British accent thickened with excitement.
Steve studied the image on the monitor and smiled. A warmth spread through him as he discerned the details he needed to know. He leaned down and gave Olivia a light kiss on the lips. “It’s a boy.”
“Very good, Dr. Chalmers,” the doctor affirmed. “This looks to me like it will be an August baby.”
“We’re going to be parents,” Olivia said, looking Steve in the eye. She was bubbling with joy.
Steve gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I love you,” he said. “We’re going to have a great life. You, me, and the baby.”
Chapter Eighteen
Pressing the insides of his knees tightly against the horse, Frank smiled as it trotted toward the house. He hadn’t ridden since he’d gotten sick, and he’d been afraid that the all-too-familiar aches in his joints would remind him that he wasn’t truly cured.
The radio on his belt vibrated and he heard Megan’s voice broadcast on the handheld unit’s speaker.
“Honey, one of the sheriff’s deputies just came by about that black van. They found it abandoned over by the Shell gas station in Ash Springs.”
“Are they sure it’s the same van?”
“Oh, it’s definitely the right one. They showed me a picture, but I suppose the clincher was the blood they found inside the van. I guess Jasper took a good bite out of whoever had come by.”
Frank looked to the side and spotted Jasper barking like a crazy thing as he raced ahead, chasing a rabbit—again. “Damn, I wouldn’t have thought Jasper had it in him to take a bite out of someone. What else did the police have to say?”
“Not much. The van had been reported stolen out of a Vegas parking lot two days ago. The sheriff thinks it might have been some meth head looking to steal some tools or something. Anyway, they’re still investigating. Are you almost home?”
“Yes, ma’am. Jasper and I should be home in about ten minutes.”
“Okay, that gives me just enough time to make a few calls I’ve been meaning to get to.”
A rabbit darted across the trail about fifty feet ahead, and Jasper raced after it.
Frank yelled good-naturedly at the chocolate lab, “Jasper, you ain’t never gonna catch that thing.”
Jasper sprinted across the field, ripping up grass with his back claws. The rabbit was about twenty feet ahead of him, zigzagging toward its burrow.
But the rabbit must have slipped on the dewy grass, because suddenly it went tumbling end over end. For a moment, it lay still—no doubt stunned.
Frank leaned forward expectantly. That crazy dog was finally going to catch the rabbit that had been eluding him for months.
But to his surprise, Jasper slowed, then stopped about ten feet away from the rabbit. He just stood there, waiting.
A few moments later, the rabbit recovered and started running again. And Jasper raced after it, his tongue hanging out. He was hav
ing the time of his life.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Frank muttered.
The rabbit escaped into its burrow, and Jasper halted at the entrance, barking.
“That’s enough, Jasper,” Frank shouted. “You’ve scared that rabbit good. Let’s get home for lunch.”
Frank gave his horse a few quick squeezes with his legs and was soon moving at a slow trot.
Jasper came running back and fell in alongside Frank’s horse.
“I saw what you did,” Frank said. “You like playing with that rabbit, don’t you?”
The dog woofed and looked up with a huge doggy grin.
Frank laughed. “I swear, you’re one strange beast, but I sure am glad to have made your acquaintance.”
###
As Frank came through the front door with Jasper, Megan glowered at him from the dining room table.
Frank didn’t like that look.
“What did I do now?” he asked as he shut the door behind him.
Megan flicked an auburn lock from her face. “I finally reached the VA, and you know what they told me? They said the clinical trial got canceled or some such nonsense, and they were surprised we didn’t get a call.” She pointed at him accusatorily. “Did you know about that, Franklin O’Reilly? Is that why you kept delaying?”
Frank held up his hands. “Innocent, your honor. That’s news to me. Heck, woman, you know I hate talking on the phone. You think I’d have kept trying after getting that damned answering machine? Pfft.” He gave a dismissive shake of his head. “No chance.”
Megan frowned, then relaxed and gave him a twisted grin. “Well, then you’ll be happy to know I called Dr. Montgomery. He said he can see you this afternoon.”
Frank groaned. “Today? When?”
Megan stood, an odd smile on her face. She grabbed his elbow and started leading him back toward the bedroom. “We’ve got two hours before your appointment. So I was thinking… why don’t we both take a shower?”
Frank looked down at his wife and returned her smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
###
Frank tapped his feet nervously as he and Megan waited in the doctor’s office for the x-ray results.
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