"It's a laboratory."
Barrett took a spiral pad from the breast pocket of his fatigues and began writing. "How do you know that?"
"I have a degree in molecular biology," Laurel said. "I know what a lab looks like."
"Ok," Barrett said. "What kind of a lab? Was it for studying the anomalies?"
"Not for studying them," Laurel said. She looked up at Barrett. "For creating them."
"How do you know that?"
"Because of the computers."
"What computers?"
"There are racks and racks of servers down there."
"What does that mean?"
"I think it means they were doing genetic sequencing."
"Did you see anything on the computers?"
"There wasn't any power. Everything was shut down."
"Did you see any other evidence? Any papers lying around, or any open file cabinets? Any name plates, logos, things like that?"
"No. Just computers and scanners. And the labs."
"Did you see any evidence of specimens escaping?"
"I don't think they escaped," Laurel said. "I think just their DNA did."
"What do you mean?"
Laurel moved her glass to the side and leaned forward. "In some ecosystems, you find different species that are genetically related, but that don't form hybrids. They don't mate. One of the ways we think their genes get combined is through parasites that target both species — specifically parasitic mites that can bore through exoskeletons. They take genetic material from one species and spread it to the other. I think whoever did this was careful enough not let any specimens escape, but not careful enough to contain the parasites. They probably carried them out themselves without even knowing it."
Barrett stopped writing and looked up. "So containing the anomalies themselves might not be enough."
"Probably not."
"And it's possible that the mites have already spread to the mainland."
"Yes, it's possible."
"Jesus Christ," Barrett said. He looked back down at his notebook and flipped to a new page. "What kind of expertise would it take to do something like this?"
"Surprisingly little."
"Why?"
"Arthropods have spent a lot more time on this planet being big than small. Whoever did this probably didn't have to insert entirely new genes into their DNA, or even alter existing genes. All they had to do was isolate the genes responsible for restricting size and turn them off. Any decently trained geneticist with the right equipment and enough time could do it." Laurel paused while Barrett scribbled. When he caught up, she said, "if you want to know who did this, why they did it, and how it was done, send your men down into that bunker and get those computers running."
"That's exactly what I intend to do," Barrett said. "With or without permission." He closed his notebook and worked it back down into his pocket. "I have to ask you one more thing."
"Ok."
"How the hell did you survive out there so long?"
Laurel took a sip of her wine. "I survived because they're predictable."
Barrett took a slow sip from his glass and waited for her to continue.
"There's certainly no shortage of brutality and deception among arthropods," Laurel said, "but they're predictable. Everything they do is about survival. They're not vindictive or jealous or greedy. They don't get power hungry. They take what they need, and that's it. They compete, but they follow rules. As long as you know those rules, and as long as you follow them yourself, you're fine." She looked up at Barrett. "In some ways, they have more dignity and integrity than we do."
"You're an incredible girl," Barrett said. He smiled at her and slid out from behind the table, and then he unclipped a thick rugged phone from his belt and flipped it open. "I need to make a call. I'm going to get my men down into that bunker right now and we're going to figure this out." He hesitated, watching Laurel for a moment before continuing. "Can I come back?"
Laurel smiled up at him. "The door will be open."
"I'll be right out front," Barrett said. "Ten minutes, tops."
"Ten minutes," Laurel agreed. "Be careful out there."
She watched him let himself out, and then she tilted her glass back and finished her wine. It occurred to her that she probably shouldn't mix alcohol with the antibiotics she was taking, but tonight she didn't care. Tonight she felt safe. She was warm, and she closed her eyes put her head back and took long deep breaths.
She was thinking about taking a shower before Barrett came back, but then she suddenly decided that she didn't want to wait. She felt like she had spent her entire life waiting, but now she was alive and happy and he was just outside and she didn't want to wait any longer. She listened for his voice on the phone through the walls of the trailer, but all she could hear was the rhythmic din of the island in the distance. She got out from behind the built-in table and crossed the room to the front door, but then she stopped when she reached for the small metal knob and found that it would not turn. From the sleeping space behind her, she heard the whisper of a metal door sliding slowly in its tracks, and then the trailer filled with the furious buzz of something huge and confused and trapped.
Table of Contents
Title
License
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Anansi Island Page 3