The Mendel Paradox (Harvey Bennett Thrillers Book 9)

by Nick Thacker

  Lars was at Canavero’s side in an instant. He raised his open palm and brought it around as hard as he could, swinging it directly at Canavero’s head.

  The smack reverberated through the small airlock, but the gasp from Dr. Canavero was almost as loud.

  “I. Will not. Be repeating myself. Any longer.” Lars spoke in breathy bursts, his words stifled and stilted by the anger. The other three men in the room nodded along, the man nearest the door pressing the button inside.

  The door began to slide open, and immediately gunfire erupted into the tiny space. The guard fell to the floor, dead on impact.

  Canavero fell as well, covering his head. The second guard leaned over and began pulling the doctor out of the way of the widening gap in the open door.

  “No, you idiot!” Lars yelled. “With me!” He yanked the guard’s arm back and the man stood again, stumbling toward Lars.

  Lars waited until the armed guard was steady, then he pushed him forward. “Go! Shoot him!”

  The guard complied instantly, leaving Canavero ducking in the airlock as he rushed by. Lars followed behind the man, careful to keep his bulk in front and protecting him.

  There was a brief exchange of gunfire, and Lars, while covering his head, saw that the intruder fell back, now out of view behind one of the tables that he’d pulled over to use as protection. The red-haired woman he was with was to his side, her hands high above her head, still standing.

  “Stop, stop,” Lars said. “Enough. Okay, enough.”

  He was frantic, and he didn’t like the feeling of it. He forced himself to calm down. He breathed, slowly, creeping forward, his free hand now on the guard’s back, nudging him forward. The guard was stuttering his steps as he approached the downed intruder, but Lars was flicking his eyes back and forth between the man and the woman.

  The red-haired woman was standing close to an operating table, and on it Lars could see the young woman they'd kidnapped from the nearby town of Grindelwald. His team had reported back that the tiny village was up in arms about her disappearance. Apparently, the place had nothing better to do than worry about a college student's welfare.

  They don’t know yet, but they will discover how wrong they are. He knew that what he was doing here could save them one day. What they were about to accomplish was something the world would thank them for.

  The guard stopped, about fifteen feet from the table behind which the man hid, and the woman stood.

  “On your knees,” Lars snapped. The woman complied. “You — next to her — hands above your head.”

  There was no reaction.

  “I said put your hands on your head.” Lars was improvising now, doing what he assumed was right. The guard didn’t seem to want to contradict him, which gave him the confidence to press on. He needed to regain — and maintain — control of this situation.

  Which meant that he needed to kill these two intruders if they weren’t going to comply.

  He looked to the guard, still standing in front of him, and quietly spoke. “Kill them. Now.”

  59

  Ben

  When the shooting began, Ben was already in motion. He backpedaled, then half-fell into the stool behind him, and grabbed the edge of the table with his hand, pulling it over. It fell backward, toward Ben, the legs poking out toward the onslaught of bullets flying into the room.

  It wasn't going to be strong enough to hold forever against the subcompact machine gun fire, but the small, fast rounds would still have trouble punching through the steel. He ducked behind it just as another volley erupted.

  “Eliza, what are you doing?” he asked.

  Eliza was standing nearby, still standing, unarmed with her hands above her head.

  “Eliza, come on,” Ben said. “You’re going to get —“

  Before he finished, the submachine gun in the guard’s hands lanced out again, the rounds working their way through the steel. For now, it was holding.

  Eliza jumped at that moment, landing on her belly and skittering across the floor until she was next to Ben. She pulled herself up into a crouching position, hiding behind Ben’s table.

  Ben knew how this would play out. He’d been in a similar situation in Antarctica, holed up in a room with no exits while an army of soldiers bore down on them and worked their way into the room.

  They hadn’t all made it out alive.

  But this time it was different. There was one armed man, possibly another, shooting at him. Well-trained but not a soldier. Ben was likely less trained but more experienced than this security-for-hire agent shooting at him.

  That meant he had an opportunity to get the jump on this kid if he played his cards right.

  “Ben, what are we going to do?” Eliza asked, whispering after the gun stopped firing.

  “Hold on,” he said. “I’m working on it.”

  He knew the move — the advancing troops would work their way toward him, pinning them in place by firing as often as necessary. They were stuck behind this table until it gave way or until they appeared around the side and flanked them.

  That meant he had to act quickly.

  “Hold this,” he whispered. He handed his rifle to Eliza, knowing she’d set hers down earlier to attend to Alina.

  “Me? You want me to —“

  “Relax,” he replied. “Don’t have to shoot it, just hold it. I’m trying to —“

  Another blast from the submachine gun made Ben jump. He gritted his teeth and pulled his head up, just above the long edge of the table. When he’d pulled the table over, he’d also pushed the whole thing forward, locking the entire object underneath the still-upright table in front of it. That particular table was the one on which sat the computer Ben had been using.

  Eliza’s table, in front of that, was the one Alina was on.

  His head was sufficiently hidden behind the computer monitor. The gunman was shooting at the sideways table itself, trying to punch a bullet hole through the steel sheet, so the computer was still unharmed. His right hand came up as well, and he placed it on the computer’s mouse as he worked.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. He realized she had her back to the table, so she couldn’t see what was happening on the screen above them.

  Ben responded as he moved the mouse around and clicked. “I’m taking your advice from earlier. Using your plan.”

  “My plan?” she responded. “And what plan is that?”

  The man who’d been screaming at them began yelling again. His voice was strained and desperate, and Ben knew they were being lied to with every word out of his mouth. “Listen,” the man said, his voice much closer now. “I really do not wish you any harm. I believe we can work this out in a diplomatic way.”

  As he said the word diplomatic, the gun flared up again and sent a short burst hurtling into the top of the upturned table.

  Ben hovered over the mouse button as he looked at Eliza. “Remember the plan that would be nothing but utter confusion and chaos?”

  Her eyes widened. “But how…”

  "Remember how I said, 'it's not like there's going to be a giant red button that just opens all the enclosures at once?"

  Her eyes grew again, and she nodded. He couldn’t tell if it was a look of fear or curiosity on her face. “Yeah, I remember that. But again, how?”

  Ben had seen the strange icon on the desktop of the computer when he’d been looking for a web browser, but it was the string of words beneath that icon that had gotten his attention. EKG Cleaning and Maintenance Control.

  He'd double-clicked on it then before he'd launched the browser, and it had loaded in the background.

  As it turned out, it seemed to be precisely what he'd hoped for: a custom program built by the IT department of EKG, intended for the remote control locking and unlocking of each and every enclosure on the floor. There were a few schedules loaded when he'd opened it, one labeled Weekend: General, that ostensibly allowed for the caretakers to open certain enclosures along the walls independen
tly, to clean and maintain each of the animals’ environments and prison cells.

  But now, he wasn’t paying attention to the list of schedules and maintenance protocols that scrolled across the screen.

  He was looking at something else entirely that had caught his eye earlier.

  A blinking, rectangular label at the top-right of the window, with a simple word spelled across it.

  Status: Ready.

  And directly beneath that, another rectangular icon with rounded corners, with the mouse pointer hovering over it. It also had a label, and it was this button that Ben clicked on.

  UNLOCK ALL.

  60

  Lars

  Lars tapped the guard standing in front of him on the shoulder, and the guard fired into the table once more. The pair was working their way around the table, keeping their distance, hoping to flank the two intruders and take them down from the hard angle.

  The guard finished his volley and began to reload while Lars waited for his ears to stop ringing. The ambient hum of the room’s giant air conditioning system eventually filled his mind, and he forced his active listening toward the upended table.

  He heard nothing. Perhaps a whisper or two, but he wasn’t sure. Had any of the bullets made their way through the steel tabletop?

  If not, it wasn't a big deal. The two were sitting ducks now; their entire strategy shot to hell. They were pinned down, and while the large man was armed, Lars knew that between himself, the guard, and Canavero who was still whimpering back in the airlock, they would make short work of these people and be on with the final phase of the trials.

  Lars flicked his eyes toward the table directly to his right. It was fortunate that the young woman lying there was still undisturbed, unharmed from the firefight that had transpired. He needed her more than ever now, especially since their time was running out.

  The last phase, the final transference, would need to be completed by the end of the week. His sister's health was fading for some unknown reason, and Lars intended to be working on reviving and rehabilitating her by this time next week. Her skin was beginning to deteriorate, a fact that he had not noticed until Dr. Canavero had pointed it out. It had something to do with the length of time humans could remain in a comatose state, but Lars hadn't been interested in the details.

  He needed to finish this project. Now.

  He was about to tap on the shoulder of the guard once again, to order the man to fire once again.

  Instead, his attention was pulled behind him.

  Somewhere back there, back where Canavero was still waiting around for the danger to pass, Lars heard something.

  At first, he thought it might have been Canavero himself, standing up and grabbing the downed guard's weapon and clicking it into gear, reloading it.

  But he glanced over his shoulder and saw that Canavero was already standing in the room, against the far wall, already waiting. No weapon in his hands.

  Another clicking sound, followed by three more in rapid succession.

  What the hell?

  Lars hadn’t spent a lot of time in the main containment lab or in the airlock surgical suite, opting instead to complete his work in his office or in the armchair in his sister’s room just next door. Most of his interactions with his team and scientists had been during his walks back and forth through these halls.

  So he wasn’t sure if what he was hearing was a normal sound or one that was out of place. To his untrained ear, it sounded out of place.

  He met Canavero's eyes and only then realized that Canavero seemed to be in distress. The doctor's face was registering shock, confusion. Uncertainty.

  That can’t be good, Lars thought.

  But what is the cause of the —

  Another few clicks, and then a second type of sound entered Lars' mind. This sound was different in every way.

  It was organic. Alive.

  No.

  It was a gentle squeaking sound, then louder as it transformed into one of questioning hoots. Then it became a more excited, anticipatory hollering.

  It’s not possible.

  Canavero began running toward him. Lars watched as the man jogged, then started to sprint. He wasn’t far away, but it seemed as though time had slowed.

  And then, over Canavero’s shoulder, a shadow. Followed by another.

  And another.

  The shadows — hominid shaped, with arms and thick legs and wide bodies — danced across the ceiling as the hooting and hollering grew in volume.

  He knew then that what he was seeing was no apparition. It was no illusion. The sound and the visual inputs flew into his brain, and he knew.

  The thirty-four chimpanzees and five gorillas they had nurtured and grown here, inside these walls, had escaped. For years Lars and his team had cultivated the most exquisite mammalian test subjects, choosing the finest stock to breed from. It had taken far more money than Lars had ever imagined, but he had eventually obtained completely off-the-books chimpanzee and gorilla babies, including five chimpanzee breeder males and two gorilla mating pairs.

  One of those gorillas, Jonas, after a successful TR-2 trial, had escaped last week due to an unfortunate miscalculation in sedatives. The beast hadn’t even bothered to destroy anything during its sprint through the facility, opting for speed over destruction.

  Lars now understood why — the hybrid human-gorilla test had intended to escape and call attention to the laboratory.

  Where the hunter they had hired had failed, Lars had succeeded.

  But now, with at least thirty apes on the loose, Lars wasn’t sure what to do.

  He knew they were intelligent, but that it was a spectrum. Chimpanzees and gorillas were intelligent in comparison to humans. They weren’t going to defeat their human cousins in a spelling bee or a debate.

  He told himself that they wouldn’t harm him or Canavero. These creatures wanted freedom — one of the long-standing tenets of the animal kingdom, baked into every living creature from the dawn of time. Freedom over free thought. That's the understanding he had been working from for years.

  So Lars was especially concerned when at least ten of the chimpanzees seemed to acknowledge their presence inside the surgical suite.

  Those chimps looked on at them, then at each other.

  Then they began creeping toward the airlock.

  61

  Ben

  Ben felt Eliza’s hand gripping his arm again. They were still crouched behind the upturned medical table, but the gunfire had stopped. Ben peered over the edge of the table, sliding over to see.

  “Ben,” Eliza said. “What’s that —“

  She’d heard it too. The slow, sputtering start of the sounds of chimpanzees whining. Gentle at first, and then louder as more of the animals began to stir.

  "Turn around!" Lars Tennyson yelled. Ben saw the man staring back through the airlock, focusing on something while grabbing the arm of the guard next to him. Ben watched as the guard spun, just as Lars reached down and pulled the walkie-talkie off the man's hip. He held it up to his mouth. "Attention — all agents on-site. Please report to the second-floor containment laboratory immediately. I repeat —"

  He never finished the second half of the command. The guard sprang into action and began firing at the chimpanzees.

  “No!” Eliza stood and rounded the corner of the table. Ben pulled her back down.

  “Stop,” he said. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

  She glared at him. “We have to do something, Ben. That’s why we’re here. I’m done arguing about this.”

  She stood again, and before Ben could respond, she was running, full-speed at Lars' back. The guard had moved closer to the airlock, and Ben noticed that there were three chimps approaching the inner doors of the airlock. They were moving steadily, stealthily, keeping their bodies low and sneering at the people inside the room.

  Eliza collided with Lars, and both went to the floor. Ben was standing now as well, and he’d moved from the side of the table t
o the narrow hallway between the rows, where Lars, Eliza, and the guard were.

  As the guard was preparing to shoot at the first chimp through the doors, Ben’s eyes were drawn to his left side.

  Canavero was moving, running quickly toward Eliza and Lars. He had halved the distance, and he’d make it there before Ben could, but Ben still had his assault rifle.

  “Stop!” Ben shouted over the noise. The cacophony had grown now to a dull roar, and Ben could see that there were twenty or so apes idling about in the main hall beyond the airlock doors. He also noticed a few more guards collecting in the stairwell, shocked and amazed at what was happening inside the room.

  One of the guards looked to be the same one Ben had taken down in the hallway. He wasn't sure if they were going to begin to fire on the apes inside the room, but as it turned out, they never got the chance.

  Four or five apes immediately ran at the stairwell, overwhelming the three guards and silencing them before they could begin shooting.

  Ben winced at the brutal display, but he felt nothing toward the guards. No pity, no sorrow.

  Canavero stopped and stared at Ben. Eliza and Lars were rolling around on the ground, but it was clear to Ben that eventually Lars would get the upper hand. He was a bit larger, stronger, and seemed to know how to fight. Eliza was fending off his attacks, but she wasn't able to get her punches landed.

  He needed to stop this. He needed to end it, fast.

  But there were three wars being waged here. The chimps, the guards, Lars and Canavero. All against him. All against Eliza.

  He wondered if the chimps would be as discerning as the gorilla had been — if they were able to recognize their captors and torturers, and let Ben and Eliza off the hook.

  Or if they’d assume they were hostile since they shared the room with Tennyson.

  He was about to find out.