by Peter Parkin
"These are the Vervet monkeys, which have lived on this island for several hundred years. They've multiplied dramatically to the point that they now outnumber humans. So, no one really cares if we kill a few.
"What you're seeing here is de-socialization. We genetically modified one of the moon organisms to achieve this. Vervet monkeys are normally very sociable creatures—they need each other very much just like wolves and many other members of the canine family. They mate for life and they just love touching each other, cleaning each other, etc. You can easily see that these modified creatures here exhibit none of those inherent characteristics. At this point, they can't stand each other and have no desire at all for closeness of any kind. Also, as a positive offshoot, they have absolutely no motivation to mate."
Brett had his eyes peeled straight ahead of him, video camera glasses catching the entire scene, while the tiny integral microphone picked up every word uttered.
"Why is that a positive offshoot?"
"That's kind of a stupid question, don't you think?"
Brett glared at him. "There's no such thing as a stupid question,
Doctor—only stupid answers."
Fiona noticed a twitch in Shannon's left eye. He clearly didn't like being challenged.
"Well, as you very well know, my role here is as a 'war scientist.' My mission is to weaponize these aliens in a variety of ways. War doesn't necessarily have to be violent—it can be strategic and insidious, depending on what our needs are.
"If we want to preserve a country's infrastructure and resources so we can absorb them, it's in our best interests not to cause destruction. So, in that case we would want to disturb and eventually annihilate its inhabitants. This particular strain of the organism used on these little guys will cause a society to no longer socialize, causing a complete breakdown of family structure as well as business and industrial teamwork. And—they will have no interest in propagating, so, over time, the indigenous population of people will simply cease to exist, making room for whatever population of people we wish to introduce."
"Is the application practical? I mean, you can't go around injecting an entire population of citizens."
Shannon chuckled condescendingly. "No, of course we can't. Every lab environment you will see here has been accomplished through injections, and that is mainly for the safety of our scientists. We can't afford to have anything airborne in this complex. But trust me, we've already accomplished the development of airborne versions of every genetically modified strain that we use here. And we've tested the airborne varieties in jungles on unpopulated islands. We know that they work exceedingly well, just like the injected varieties."
Avery pressed his nose up against the glass.
"Don't do that Colonel. They may look docile but they're actually extremely alert."
"Well, so what? It looks like all that would do is disturb their sleep."
"It would do more than that. They could get quite violent."
"That's hard to believe, Doctor."
"Okay, I'll show you what happens if their little existence gets disturbed." Shannon punched a number into his cellphone and whispered a couple of words. The next thing they saw was a door in the compound opening and a lab technician appearing with a little green monkey in his arms. He tossed the monkey into the pen and quickly closed the door behind him.
"This Vervet is a normal one. No genetic modifications at all. Watch what happens when it immediately tries to socialize—which it will."
The monkey ran over to one of the GMs that was lying in the center of the room, chattering and wiggling its little bum. The little fellow jumped on top of the sleeping monkey and began stroking its fur. The GM monkey immediately rolled onto its back and sank its teeth into the neck of the friendly little guy. It shrieked in horror and tried desperately to pull away, only making matters worse. Its neck tore open into a grotesquely gaping wound, and it was instantly surrounded by a horde. They had all awakened.
Fiona thrust her hands up to her mouth to stifle a scream—it was like watching a horror movie. The helpless little monkey struggled but didn't stand a chance. Two of the GMs grabbed it by the arms from each side and played tug of war, yanking until the arms popped right out of their sockets. Then they started chewing on the severed limbs, pausing every few seconds to spit out the hair.
The rest of the angry beasts clawed, tore and chewed what was left of him to pieces within minutes. It was like a piranha attack, a ferocious frenzy, and Fiona couldn't watch any more of it. She turned her back to the glass window and threw up.
Shannon looked down at her with disgust, and then made another whispered call with his cellphone. Within minutes an attendant appeared in the hallway with a mop and pail.
"Control yourself, young lady. We haven't got time today to clean up after you."
Fiona looked up at him. "That little display was cruel and disgusting." Shannon laughed. "And you're supposed to be a zoologist? Grow up, girl.
Welcome to my world."
CHAPTER FORTY NINE
"I demand to speak to General Metcalf, right now!"
"Colonel, I already told you—he's in a meeting and left strict instructions not to be disturbed."
Colonel Howard Wentworth bit through his lower lip in frustration and blood was already starting to drip down over his chin. However, the pain in his lip barely competed with the agony shooting through his shoulder from what was left of his useless right arm.
"Goddamn it, girl! This is an emergency—in fact it's a matter of national security! Get him on the phone—now!"
The lieutenant on the other end of the phone was clearly in a quandary, Howard could tell. He had to give her something. "Okay, you run in and tell him we have a 'Code Red at Snow Lady.' Just do that for me, will you? And I promise you, if he doesn't run to a phone within seconds, I'll submit a recommendation for your promotion to Captain."
"Oh, Colonel, I do believe you are serious. All right, I'll disturb him. Hold on."
Howard waited. Angela was kneeling at his side, still cutting some of the packing tape off his legs. He massaged her neck with his good hand. "Angela, the man was a pro. He was cold and capable, and clearly on a mission. I swear, he's on that island right now."
Some muffled voices sounded at the other end of the phone. Howard tapped his finger impatiently against the side of Angela's mobile. Then a booming voice came on.
"Colonel—what's the meaning of this? I was in a tense meeting on the Iran issue, and I don't appreciate being drawn away from that."
"Forget Iran, General. We have something far more serious to deal with. I told the Lieutenant to tell you we have a 'Code Red at Snow Lady.' I'm serious. Last night I was assaulted here in my house, restrained, until a friend came to check on me. I'm now free, but the assailant stole my access card to Snow Lady. And two of my associates who were supposed to accompany me to the island today, received emails from me yesterday saying the trip had been cancelled. Well, guess what? I didn't send those emails. The trip was not cancelled. Some pros are at work here."
"You're being impersonated?"
"I would bet my life on it. I'm betting that a team of three people are there right now impersonating me and the two doctors who were supposed to accompany me. If I'm right, we have a serious breach going on right at this very moment."
"What assets do we have down there?"
"A team of half a dozen marines moderately armed."
"If the impersonators are there, they would have to be with our Director, Clyde Shannon. He would be the only one able to grant them access to the sensitive areas."
"Call him, General. You have the clout to get straight through to him. With all due respect, sir, do it right now!"
*****
The next lab was around the corner and about eighty feet down the hallway. Fiona braced herself for what she might see. She noticed that this compound had the same kind of entry system as the last one—a thick heavy glass panel mounted onto a track, with a magnetic entry
pad and push button console.
Shannon seemed to be in all his glory, especially after seeing Fiona fall apart at the last lab. He was starting to enjoy the tour now. Fiona was determined that she would not allow herself to show another sign of weakness, regardless of what she might see.
"Okay, prepare yourselves for a spectacular sight." He pushed a button on a remote clipped to his hip, and steel blinds slid across on the inside of the glass, exposing the interior of the compound.
Brett kept his head aimed straight ahead into the pen while Avery hung back. Fiona moved along beside Shannon and fought to keep her hands from shaking.
She was staring at the most intense beastly creatures she had ever seen in her life—and they were staring right back at her.
She recognized them right away as Chimpanzees, but these weren't normal Chimpanzees. Not at all. They were huge. And they stood straight and tall on their hind legs with their long arms hanging by their sides. Not stooped and loping like chimps normally did—these ones stood almost at attention along the length of the window, glaring intently at their visitors. They didn't seem excited, agitated, or fearful. They were...calm...and confident.
"These are third generation genetically modified Chimpanzees," Shannon explained in almost a whisper. "You will note some significant variances from a normal chimp, especially you Ms. Huntington with your zoology background. These guys are much taller—standing close to seven feet. A normal chimp is only about four feet in height and weighs about 160 pounds at the most. Our friends here are 250 pounds at least. We can only guess about that though, because no one dares try to weigh them." Shannon laughed at his little joke, rather proud of himself.
"You'll notice that while their bodies are covered in hair just like a normal chimp, these guys have a much thinner coat and have virtually no hair on their faces or heads. This gives them an almost human look, but, much closer to what we envision Neanderthal man to have looked like. We've mated human DNA with the alien organisms to produce a concoction that is simply stunning. Well, you can see for yourselves what I mean."
Brett turned his head slowly towards Shannon. "Doctor, are you saying that these creatures are part human?"
"Yes, I guess I am. But remember, Chimpanzees are our closest relatives anyway. No less than ninety-eight percent of their DNA is identical to ours. So, we've just played with that. By fusing human DNA with the alien organisms, what you see now are creatures that have mixed DNA—ninety-eight percent is the common DNA of humans and chimps mixed with alien, and two percent is Chimpanzee. So, the answer to your question is both yes, and no. When we inject the concoction into human soldiers, their offspring will have the same combination for the ninety-eight percent, but the two percent remaining will be human, thus giving them more of a human look than a chimp look. Does this all make sense?"
Brett nodded.
Fiona felt her stomach starting to roll again. She fought off the urge to retch, and asked a question to try to take her mind off it. "Are these... completed experiments, so to speak?"
"I would be happy to put these guys out into the field, yes. But more importantly, we know from these lab specimens that we can do the same thing to a human now. The appearance would be the reverse of course—they would look more human with just some chimp characteristics. But they would have the height, weight, speed and strength of these guys. These beasts have five times the speed of a man, and ten times his strength. They've also been modified with the moon organisms to produce creatures that have absolutely no fear whatsoever.
"That's the one thing that surprised us in our initial studies thirty years ago, and a component that we knew we could put to good use. The creepy crawler organisms that we brought back from the moon just attacked— they never defended. We tested them six ways to Sunday, and they always attacked. We were very impressed—they had no sense of self-preservation. They possessed only the instinct to win, attack, and annihilate."
Brett turned towards Shannon. "So, you could put these guys out onto the battlefield right now and they would just charge tanks, machine guns, mortar launchers?"
"Yes."
"And the eventual human versions would as well?"
"Yes."
"But how would you command them? Do they obey? What's to keep them from slaughtering their own commanders?"
Shannon frowned. "We're not quite there yet. We think some form of hypnosis combined with a microchip would be the way we will need to go. We're just about to commence testing on the command and control aspects. So, you've asked a very timely question."
"You're trying to create a Superman here."
"I guess, kind of. More like a fearless warrior. As the Colonel here well knows, one of our biggest challenges in war is forcing our young recruits to put their necks on the line. The training curve is very high, and long. We lose precious time and ground in every war just due to mere cowardice. I'm talking boots on the ground, on ships and in jets. The public has no idea about how fear has caused us to fight wars much longer than we should have to—even with our high-tech weapons, we still need real soldiers, sailors and pilots to finish the job."
Avery spoke. "What would happen if this glass wasn't separating us right now from these monsters, Doctor?"
"We'd be overrun. And torn to pieces."
*****
Bill Charlton was pacing the floor in his plush Pentagon office when the phone rang. He saw by the call display that it was his buddy, Grant Folsom, Chief of the Washington Police. He crossed his fingers hoping that the DNA results gave them what they needed on Dennis Chambers. He had to shut that man down fast.
"Hello Grant. What have you got for me?"
"Dennis isn't the killer."
"What the fuck are you talking about? Of course, it's him."
"I know you want it to be him, Bill, but quite frankly, I'm relieved."
"So, who is it then?"
"The DNA tests tell us it's someone named Brett Horton."
Bill felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. A pain began in his lower extremities and moved its way up to his throat. He gasped, and prayed that Grant hadn't heard.
"Bill, did you hear me?"
Bill quickly composed himself. "Yeah, I heard you. Who is this guy?"
"I was hoping you could tell me. His records show that he's a retired Secret Service Agent—one of their best. Highly trained, and like Dennis, an expert in Shaolin martial arts. But his file also has a reference to him being self-employed now, specializing in counter-terrorism and offering himself out as a mercenary for hire."
"Okay, so why would I be familiar with that?"
"His income tax records show that he received numerous payments over the last few years from the Pentagon. Looks like he was on contract to you guys."
Bill gulped. "Not that I know of, Grant. Maybe another division knows about him—I'll ask around."
"That would be great. See what you can find out. I know you guys are pretty secretive about things, but this man's a serial killer, which brings him within my jurisdiction. I'm going to find him with or without the help of the Pentagon. And I'm putting out an APB within the next hour."
"I'll get back to you, Grant. Good work."
Bill hung up the phone and took a deep breath. He sucked it in and held it. Then he took another deep breath using the muscles of his abdomen, breathing deeply, holding it, and exhaling in a slow rush. He gradually felt relaxation setting in.
Then he picked up the phone and rang General Metcalf. "Metcalf here."
"General, I think I know who's leading the breach at Snow Lady. And we have to sanction him. He can't get off that island alive. Bring out the big guns. He's a force to be reckoned with, I can guarantee that."
"Who is it?"
"An operative named Brett Horton. I've used him many times in the past, and I assigned him to recover the package for us from Lucy Chambers. He's gone rogue—I haven't been able to connect with him for several days now, ever since things went horribly wrong at a rendezvous up in Chesapeak
e."
"Jesus, Bill. You guys in Defense Intelligence take some serious chances that you shouldn't take sometimes. You hire the most unstable people."
"He wasn't unstable. He was the best. I think he just developed a conscience, and there's no way we can ever predict that sort of thing."
"What makes you think he's raiding Snow Lady?"
"Just that I have reason to believe he knows everything now. And I think he kept the package for himself. And...I've just learned that he's been identified through DNA as being the Washington vigilante serial killer. If so, he's definitely acting on his conscience in a variety of ways. I wouldn't be surprised if his newly-found self-righteousness is being acted out on our Shackleton project."
Bill could hear the General sigh at the other end of the phone. "Well, all that may be true, I don't know. However, we in the military tend to believe it's the Israelis. They'd love to have something they can use to blackmail us into an Iran war. We've tracked some serious hacking into the Pentagon database—traced it right back to the Mossad."
Bill could barely control his belly laugh. "Christ, General—that's child's play for someone like Brett. He could easily orchestrate a hack emanating from anywhere in the world. Trust me, it wasn't the Israelis—it was Brett Horton."
Silence.
"General, are you still there?"
"Yes, I'm thinking."
"Have you had any luck getting in touch with Shannon yet?" "Tried—no luck yet. Cell signals and phone service in general are predictably bad down in the Caribbean. Sometimes we get some dead periods and 'Murphy's Law' being what it is, we have one right now. I have a team phoning down there every few seconds trying for a connection. As soon as I get one, I'll alert Shannon. I hope it's not too late."
"Yes, General, we can both agree on that. But if I'm right and it's Brett Horton, we have to take him out. Full sanction—agreed? Including whoever is with him."
A pause. "Yes, I agree, Bill. We can't afford to show any mercy with this Shackleton thing."
