The Darwin Variant

by Kenneth Johnson

  “I did, Poppa. Read lots o’books in prison. That one, too.”

  The old man met his son’s dark eyes. I saw that there was a lovely light in Joseph’s as he said with quiet pleasure, “Really?” His weakening voice had become a whisper, “Tell me, boy . . .”

  Jimmy-Joe spoke slowly, softly, and with mild embarrassment, “. . . ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.’” Joseph nodded at the verse, which he clearly knew very well, as Jimmy-Joe continued, “‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.’” Jimmy-Joe looked at his father, “‘Blessed are the pure in heart . . . for they . . . shall see God . . . ’”

  Joseph’s eyes were warm and beatific. And unseeing. Carried forth by Jimmy-Joe’s words, his soul had departed.

  Jimmy-Joe’s jaw set. There was silence in the room. Everyone stood motionless. Jimmy-Joe slowly rested his face on Joseph’s chest and wept quietly. I gently closed Joseph’s eyelids.

  Then Katie and I, very moved and saddened, rested our hands on Jimmy-Joe’s back.

  Chris, supremely frustrated, feeling a heavier layer of guilt and failure now on his shoulders, went deeper into the lab.

  Lilly glanced over for a fleeting moment before she looked away. Even she felt the sadness.

  I saw that Simone’s face was a bitter mask, which then took on a decisive expression as she abruptly turned and left the warehouse with determination.

  Everett Security—Surveillance Archive Stack 1187262AA

  Date: 04/28/21 Time: 13:12:54 Cam: 0127-17-6

  Area: 17—Restricted Entry Section 6 & 7

  Visual Description: Matches communication below.

  Security Office (SO): Possible security breach. We have a lookie-loo. Going to yellow alert. We have an unauthorized adult black female, age indeterminate, civilian clothes, no hard hat, seen moving through RES 6 to 7, possibly taking photos of container being loaded. Unit 26, you’re closest, do you copy?

  Unit 26: Yes, sir, give me a twenty.

  SO: She is left of stack section 23K. Should be about your eleven o’clock.

  Unit 26: On it. (static) Yeah. Yeah, I see her. Might be shooting photos.

  SO: Going to Red. I’m ringing the bell. (alarm starts)

  Unit 26: You! Stand where you are. Hands on your head. Do it now, lady!

  Everett Security—Surveillance Archive Stack 1187263AA

  Date: 04/28/21 Time: 13:12:54

  Unit 26 Body Cam: Running toward female suspect who has hands on head. U26’s gun in frame.

  Unit 26: Keep those hands where I can see ’em, lady.

  Suspect: LeBron? Is that you?!

  Unit 26: Mom? What the hell are you doing here?!

  (Woman turns, has Everett visitor name sticker, “Simone Frederick.”)

  Frederick: I was going to your dad’s office. Guess I got a little lost.

  Unit 26: Security, this is 26, stand down. I have ID: Simone Frederick, wife of Clarence Frederick.

  (Alarm stops, Clarence Frederick, EMP #3897, in hard hat, seen running in.)

  Courtesy Everett Biochem, FBI

  Clarence Frederick. . .

  I couldn’t believe it. “Simone!” I shouted, “What in the name of God are you—”

  “I was just telling, LeBron,” she said with self-deprecating humor, “somehow I got stupidly turned around. I was coming to your office to surprise you for lunch and—” She saw Shelly walking in quickly behind me with two security guards. Simone smiled a bit too sweetly. “Oh, you must be Ms. Navarro. So nice to finally meet you.”

  Shelly was harsh. “Not under these circumstances, Mrs. Frederick. This is a highly restricted area.” Her fiery eyes swung to LeBron. “What was she doing?” LeBron mumbled something, and Shelly bellowed, “Out with it, boy, if you want to work here tomorrow!”

  “She mighta taken a picture or two, but—”

  Shelly snapped at a guard, “Call the police. Mrs. Frederick, I’m having you arrested for trespassing and industrial espionage.”

  Another guard was rifling through Simone’s purse, pulled out her cell phone, but I grabbed it out of his hand. “Let me see that.” I tapped it and saw a photo of the shipping container being loaded with individual CAV-B canisters, which all had bogus biohazard symbols to keep nosy people away. I shook the phone right in her face. “How could you do this?!” As she opened her mouth to speak, I slapped her. Everyone was startled, Simone most of all. I shoved the phone in my pocket, grabbed her arm roughly. “I’ll take her to meet the police myself.” I wrenched her away and started toward the front gate with a guard a few steps in front of us and the others behind as I marched her at a good clip.

  Simone hissed at me. “I can’t believe you hit me.”

  “So they’d trust me to take you,” I muttered. “You’re with the Resistance?”

  “Yes. I need information about that shipment. Have you been screwing her?”

  “I can’t believe you’d put us all in—”

  “Desperate times, desperate measures. Have. You. Been—”

  “One time! Last week. She’d been harassing me for months, Simone. First with bribes, then threats to fire me. I kept saying no.”

  “But last week you caved.”

  “She said if I didn’t she’d have you disappeared.” Simone stared at me. “She can do it. They’re dangerous. What would you have done in my place?” She was confounded. I said, “Tell me what you need to know. Quickly!” We were almost to the front gate.

  “When it’s leaving. Who it’s going to. What the route is.”

  “I don’t know much. North, I think. They’ve kept it very—”

  “Find out! Push the ‘Bakery’ contact on my phone. Tell whoever answers: ‘I need a baker’s dozen.’ Then tell them everything you can.”

  “I’ve got to get you out of jail first.”

  “No! Get the info to them first. People have died, Clarence. More will.”

  Dr. Susan Perry. . .

  A pigeon fluttered in the warehouse rafters, and a dropping fell onto the corner of Chris’s makeshift lab table, but he didn’t notice. He was angrily stabbing at computer keys. Suddenly his screen winked off along with all the other equipment. Only a trace of afternoon sunlight came through a narrow crack in the roof. A chorus of groans rose from the scientists working in other lab areas as Chris threw up his hands. “Shit! That’s great!” He slammed a book to the floor.

  Lilly jumped slightly, glancing from her reading toward me. “Chris’s not h-happy.”

  I patted her shoulder. “No, honey, he’s not.”

  “Is he going a-away again?” Lilly said with her eyes downcast.

  “I hope not, Lil. I sure don’t want him to.” I kissed my sister on the forehead, picked up Chris’s book, trying to calm his troubled water. “That transformer’s old and funky. Javier’s working on a backup genny that’ll—”

  “It hardly matters.” He pushed the book aside. “I can’t crack this.”

  I let a moment pass as he rubbed his aching head, then I said softly, “And it’s incredibly hard watching volunteers die.” I touched his arm.

  “I thought we were so close, Susie.” He sighed, and ran his hand through his red hair. “But maybe it’s a dead end.”

  I sat on a seedy vinyl barstool beside him, equally tapped out. “You might be right. Maybe they really are the next step. Maybe we should just give up and join ’em. If you can’t figure it out—and you’ve got the highest IQ in the field—then I don’t see how—” Chris suddenly glanced at me. I’d triggered some idea in him. “What?” I recognized that galvanized look his eyes took on when his agile mind was calculating myriad possibilities. “What, Chris?”

  He focused sharply on me. “Suppose I did join ’em?”

  I felt a chill. “What are you saying?”

  “Suppose I took the virus.”

  “No, no, no—don’t even think about—”

  “My IQ was
the highest, wasn’t it?” His multifaceted mind was whirring. Dangerously.

  I hated to confirm it. “Well, yeah, one-fifty-eight on the last tests we took. Almost the same as Hawking, but Chris—”

  “And Lauren was kvetching,” he chuckled, “because she was just one-thirtysomething.” He looked at me brightly. “So if I took the virus, I’d be way ahead of her. Of all of them.”

  “If that’s exactly how the virus works, which we don’t know, so that’s no reason to try such a hazardous experiment.” He opened his mouth to argue, but I kept going, “Yes, your intelligence is exceptional. Yes, it would certainly be even more exceptional if you took the virus—” I noticed Lilly glance up from her Schopenhauer, reacting to my intensity—but I was intent on driving my point home to Chris. “Should I remind you that there are a couple of slightly unpleasant side effects!? Yes, you might find a cure—”

  “But I might lose whatever shreds of morality I have.” Chris was already mulling how he might well become a very different person.

  “You’ve got way more than shreds,” I said. “The man who gave up a fortune in patents, went into a swamp rather than see his creations used for evil. Who can’t let himself have any personal joy because of the debt he feels to humanity. You’re a grand pain in the ass, Christopher Smith, but your heart is in the right place.”

  He was pondering. “I wonder if that’s enough?”

  My head was searing with tension. “Oh God, Chris. How can we know?” I searched his eyes. “It seemed to be enough for Joseph and Katie’s friend Darren but . . .”

  He unlocked a secured cabinet and took out a vial of red liquid labeled ‘CAV-A.’ He studied it. “Nice poetic justice, though, this stuff bringing about its own defeat? I’ve got to admit, Susie, I like the symmetry.” He unscrewed the cap.

  I grasped his arm, frightened. “No, no. Chris, wait. We’ve got to think about this.”

  “While more people die? Like Claire and the others?”

  I held his arm tightly, scared. “This involves all of us. You can’t just do it.”

  “Like Joseph said, that decision belongs to the volunteer.” He pressed his hand firmly on top of mine. “Just promise that if I veer off down a wrong path . . . or whatever . . . you won’t let me keep going.”

  I went pale. “How could I ever promise that?”

  “Because we love each other.” His eyes looked deeply into mine. “This is the right choice, Susie. For me. And probably our only chance to save everyone from them.”

  I gazed into his determined eyes and also saw his fear underneath. Could I match the incredibly courageous commitment he was making? I wasn’t sure I could ever find that strength, but finally, barely breathing, I made myself nod. Then I watched, with my heart in my throat, as Chris poured a few ccs of the reddish liquid into a medicine cup. He held it up in a small, sad toast. “To Joseph. And victory.” Then he drank it down.

  I put my arms around him. My cheek pressed against his red beard. I whispered, “You are the best and bravest man I have ever known.” I held him tightly. “We’d better tell the others.” He nodded, but neither of us moved. Over his shoulder I saw Lilly’s eyes flit up momentarily to us holding each other, then to the vial of red liquid, then back to the pages of her book.

  Our embrace lingered for a full minute. Finally we took a long breath together, then headed to inform the others.

  Katie McLane. . .

  I was in biology class when my teacher was told to send me to the office. I was freaked that they’d discovered my name was false. My heart was fluttering when the principal’s sour secretary waved me to his inner office. But he wasn’t there. Instead a large man in a tailored suit was looking out a window, watching the girl cheerleaders practicing. My heart did a backflip as I realized who it was. He turned, saying in that deep mellow voice, “Ah, Katharine . . . Bartlett? Is it?” I nodded. “I’m the Reverend Dr. Abraham—”

  “Brown. Yes, of course.” I smiled and shook his large hand, which was unusually warm.

  “I’m very happy to make your acquaintance, Katharine. Please, sit.”

  I eased into the captain’s chair that faced the desk. Its wooden arms curved around me slightly. Felt a little like I was in the open jaws of a trap. He sat against the front edge of the principal’s tidy desk. “As you know, I’m seeking interns to work alongside me. Sound appealing?”

  Ohmigod, I thought excitedly, whether Eric likes it or not, I’d be a spy on the inside! I tried to stay cool. “Yes, sir, I think it does. What exactly would I be doing?”

  He meandered slowly around my chair. “You’d be one of my closest assistants, Katharine, so it’s vital that we always be absolutely truthful with each other.”

  “Of course,” I said as he passed behind me. I felt his fingertip touch the back of my hair. “The pixie cut’s an interesting choice. But personally I prefer your blond ringlets.”

  My blood turned icy. “Uh . . . I’m sorry, what?”

  He leaned close to my ear, whispering, “I know who you are, Miss McLane. And that you were in Ashton a few nights ago.” He went on in a very personable, friendly tone. “One of your old pals gave us the license plate, which we traced.” My heart sank, my eyes closed. Oh, Darren . . . no. “The trace led to an Eric Tenzer, with whom we’ve seen you in CDC security video along with the fugitive Dr. Susan Perry. I’m guessing you’re still involved with her.”

  “No,” I blurted, “absolutely not, I—” He pressed the tip of his thick, manicured index finger onto my lips.

  “Shhh. Truthful, remember?” Then he took out his cell phone, tapping it as he spoke, “I’m sure you have access. I want you to seek out the very latest information about whatever resistance Dr. Perry is up to and deliver it to my home by ten tomorrow night”—he handed me an address card—“so that nothing further happens to this young man.” He showed me a video image on his phone: Darren in a small jail cell, moving back and forth, jittery, very frightened. I stopped breathing. His face was bruised. One eye bloodied, swollen shut.

  I was scared, but furious, too. “Why would you do that if he reported me!?”

  Brown chuckled. “Darren didn’t. It was a young patriot named Charley Flinn. Darren has told us nothing. Yet.” He let that word sink in. “I’ve asked my more aggressive associates to hold off until ten tomorrow night. After that . . .” He shrugged. “And there’ll be serious consequences for Eric Tenzer, too.”

  The big bastard saw how shaken, tormented, and angry I was. He smiled warmly, said quietly, “Perhaps I can make it a little easier for you.”

  He took out of his pocket a small vial of yellow liquid.

  Dr. Susan Perry. . .

  A twilight storm was churning over our Atlanta warehouse that evening. Rain was falling, thunder rumbling like a caged tiger. Chris’s mood paralleled the threatening weather. He was pacing with angry impatience. “Susan! I need the damned amino-immunologic analysis, and I need it now!”

  Even those who didn’t know Chris well recognized he had changed since taking the virus. That dominant glint was now in his eye, and his formerly reserved nature had become petulant. But it was also clear to me how he was struggling against the dark seed planted in him. He snapped again, “Susan!? Goddammit!”

  I grabbed the last page of a spreadsheet from our scuffed printer and hurried it to him, passing Crash, who was keeping a weather eye on Chris’s gathering storm. Crash knew I was exhausted from trying to deal with Chris’s new belligerence and demands. We both knew we could only vaguely comprehend the strife boiling in him. The pendulum swinging within him between hope and darkness. I was determined to eat all the crow necessary to support his struggle. “Sorry, Chris. Your instructions were kind of complex. I had a little trouble—”

  “They were the image of simplicity,” he said with a dismissive grin while scanning through the graphs at lightning speed. “Shit!” He tossed the papers aside, scattering them and startling Lilly nearby. “It’s all garbage!”

  “Ch
ris,” I said gently, trying to calm him, but he raged on, more furious with himself than anything.

  “No plasmid interassociation, no viroid linkage, no prion receptor connections. Nothing I can use.”

  “Why don’t you take a rest?” I touched his arm, but he snatched it away.

  “Why don’t you take a fucking hike!” His stormy eyes swept across the warehouse, the others had grown quiet, looking away from his outburst. “The whole goddamn lot of you!”

  Crash, Ronnie, and also Jimmy-Joe eased on to the alert in case Chris began acting out physically. I drew a breath. “Chris, I can’t imagine what you must be going through, but—”

  “Right.” He laughed. “You certainly can’t.” He shot me an icy glance, then reined himself in slightly, struggling to focus his anger back onto himself. “I think you were right, Susie. There is no damn cure.” That truly saddened him, but then a bitter chuckle emerged. “Even when the Scarecrow goes to the Emerald City and gets a brain, he can’t find the answer. I’m fucking useless!” He bashed a chair, sent it clattering. Crash calmly stood up. Ronnie, too.

  Chris drew an irate breath. Then went strangely calm. “I’ve gotta get out of here for a while.”

  I smiled. “Good idea, I could use a little walk.”

  His eyes flashed at me. “Alone.” I tipped my head, okay. It seemed like he tried to smile, but it morphed into a smirk. “And I don’t need your damn permission, Queen Mother.”

  He strode off past Lilly, who glanced up at him worriedly, her brow knitted with distress. My own aching eyes found Crash. He understood and discreetly trailed after Chris, who had gruffly blown out the big creaking service door.

  Jimmy-Joe Hartman. . .

  When Crash went out, he told me to take his shift as gatekeeper and gived me the Bat Phone. That’s this special cell any of us could call in a ’mergency. He wuz barely out the door when the phone ringed, and I answered like he told me, “Goldberg’s Bagels.” The guy callin’ said them code words ’bout ‘needin’ a baker’s dozen,’ so I knew he wuz legit. It wuz Simone’s husband, Clarence. She been arrested, and he wuz worried ’bout them suckers doin’ their enhanced interrogation on her before he could get her out. Meantime she wanted him to give us some info. I grabbed a pen.