Anodyne Eyes

by Milt Mays

  Sam looked up. “I told you these were the lowest of low. But there’s more.”

  Rachel gave him her best teenage eye-roll. “Of course there is.”

  “Actually I think this is good stuff. NSA got a ding on voice-recognition from a call in Richmond. Jabril.”

  Rachel put it together. “You think he found his bugs, took them out, left them on one train and the cell phone on the other while he jumped off and went to Richmond. Why?”

  “My contact believes he is trying to get out of the States. On the tapped phone conversation, Jabril asked for a Juwani Moc. Ten years ago we tracked down Juwani as an escape valve for several of the terrorists in the States. If the rest of what Juwani told us before he met Allah is true, then Jabril should be leaving out of Pensacola within the next few days.”

  Rocca eyed Sam. “Maybe you and I should go to Pensacola. You know the area and I have friends down there, one who was a SEAL. We could find Jabril and hamper him, permanently.”

  Sam raised an eyebrow then looked at Rachel. “On your phone call from Jerry, you mentioned something about nanotechnology.”

  “Yeah, the GMO foods have nanotechnology coupled with their DNA modifications, which could be killing people.”

  “Okay. Do I have a deal for you? There’s a guy I worked with last year, a geek who wrote an operating program for nanotechnology to couple with bacteria.”

  Rachel’s mouth fell open and her eyes got wide. “Dan Trotter?”

  “The same.”

  “Where is he? Can you get him?”

  Rachel knew Dan Trotter had saved U.S. oil from annihilation by ending Xoflex, the company that was ultimately responsible for the destruction of oil. But it was Dan’s computer program a bioterrorist used to nearly destroy all the oil to begin with. Gas prices skyrocketed so fast, a world war started: the Oil War, as it was called. They lived with the devastating result now: Wastelands populated by survivalists, and some said cannibals in the Midwest; very expensive gas; high mileage cars but few of them and few highways kept in repair. Dan Trotter was almost a household word in computer espionage circles. That included biological warfare and DNA manipulation, the very fields that La Riva Lab excelled in, and the reason she, Alex, and Jabril were forever tied.

  And, she thought, the reason her daughter might save the world.

  Dan Trotter was exactly the expert Rachel needed. He was famous, or maybe infamous, for his knowledge of bio-nanotechnology. Not only could he help decipher the problems with GMO foods and hemorrhaging, but he might be able to figure a mechanism to spread Alexis’s peaceful genes to the world. If she could convince him.

  Sam pursed his lips and stared at the back of her seat, avoiding eye contact. She studied him in the rearview. What an odd way for him to act.

  “He’s,” Sam paused and seemed to regroup, to control overwhelming emotions. “He had quite a problem after the Oil War. He thinks he killed his son, Jeff. Sank into a very serious depression. Doctors didn’t think he’d make it back to sanity. But his grandson, Jeff’s kid, has given him a new lease on life. He lives in Denver. He and his wife take care of the grandson, Adam. Not sure if I can get him to leave, but I can try. He loves computer programming and numbers, but we gotta keep him away from guns or live action. He might lose it.”

  “You were in on that thing with Xoflex?”

  Sam nodded.

  “And you know Dan.”

  Sam kept his head down but raised his eyes to her, nodding again, this time his head barely moving. His jaw was clamped so hard the muscles rippled at his temple.

  She lowered her voice. “Sorry, Sam. I heard about that.”

  Then her voice got loud. “But this guy’s got to get a backbone. Tell him to man up and you get him here.”

  Sam snorted and shook his head, his face breaking into a grin. “Jesus. You are one hard b—Er, woman. Reminds me a little of Lisette. Dan might get along with you.”

  “Who’s Lisette?”

  “A Marine hottie that Dan fell for.”

  “Hottie? You did not say ‘hottie’ in referring to a U.S. Marine.”

  “Well, yeah, I did. She was.” Not one miniscule hint of apology in his tone.

  She shook her head. “You are hopeless. I thought you said Dan was married.”

  “Yeah. Lisette’s . . . It’s a long story. Dan’s wife doesn’t know about Lisette. But Dan likes strong women. Truth be told, I think he needs it. Someone to give him direction.”

  She thought about that for a minute. “Fine. So maybe I should go with you to get Dan and we can bring him to Milwaukee. Rocca can go to Pensacola and make sure Jabril leaves, one way or the other.”

  Sam frowned. “Yeah. Okay. But nothing about Lisette. Dan’s already suffered enough.” He held her gaze in the rearview.

  “You think I’d say something? I’m not like you, blabbing about Alex.”

  “Right.” He screwed his mouth to the side. “Another thing. Dan has a daughter, Katie, but don’t mention her, ever, or he will be useless to us.”

  “You want to elaborate?”

  “No. Just, please, no Lisette and no Katie. Okay?” He held her gaze.

  “Okay, already.”

  Sam nodded. “I’ll need to make some calls. Not as easy to fly as the old days. See what I can find for Rock, too.”

  He was busy on the phone, but not long. “No flights to anywhere tonight. Apparently there was a bad storm in Alaska, and the regular oil shipment didn’t arrive. No fuel. You might want to top off tonight, if you can find a place. Then I suggest we find a motel and crash for the night.”

  They found a station, but were limited to only thirty gallons. The Motel Seven next to the gas station had vacancies. They booked a room. It was modeled after the old Motel Six. “Better and Luckier,” or so the advertisement went. Having a vacancy this late was probably lucky, though the Better part Rachel would have disagreed with. The yellow paint was peeling and the TV was grainy. But the bathroom was clean and the mattresses firm, though the foldout for Sam was a bit lumpy.

  After bringing in her overnight bag, Rachel rolled up her sleeves, sat on the bed and punched in the number for Alex. The phone rang and then clicked. There was a beep and she entered the encrypted code.

  There were another two beeps, then, “Hi, Baby,” Alex said. “How’s the Beemer driving?” It was his typical jester-like voice, chipper and always upbeat. She remembered that time in the B&B, him and the beers, the first time they made love: his mischievous smile, his gentle touch. Even though he knew Jabril was close and trying to destroy the world, he had taken time for her.

  “Like a dream. But, I have to tell you—”

  “I know. Jabril’s coming. I’ve felt him since early this morning. I’m going to get Alexis and find a safe place. Don’t worry.” As if this was a nice hike in a high mountain meadow. Yeah, so there were a few streams to ford, glacial scree to scramble over without breaking an ankle. Minor challenges. Piece of cake. For Alex.

  It worked though. He always cheered her up. “I’m not worried. They think he’s leaving the country. He should be flying out of Pensacola tomorrow or the next day.”

  There was no answer.

  “Alex, are you there?”

  Alex changed the subject, told her he’d been working hard the last week getting his old Ford pickup and camper ready for travel. He’d been clueless as to why, until this morning. That’s when that old feeling, an ominous and depressing cloud, pressed other thoughts out. A visual flash had then erupted, showing Jabril slashing off a guard’s head.

  “Made me sick. But the worst part was: I loved the rush.” The phone went silent. This time there was no cheer. He was worried.

  “That’s not you.” She hated that he was going through this again. The last time almost killed him, psychologically and physically. He was usually such a gentle man, though he did love to take chances. His mutation allowed him to push beyond normal limits and survive.

  “I’m not so sure.” He sighed. “Anyhow
, Jabril has probably sensed me, too, though he will be confused because he thinks I died. Maybe he’ll be worried I changed to a zombie. Those suckers cannot be killed.”

  Despite his attempt at zombie humor, a topic he loved, the awful memory hit her: Alex falling a thousand feet into the Royal Gorge chasm into the churning Arkansas River below. Never again, even if Alex said he would survive every time, able to belly flop and almost bounce off the water. Or, he could grab a tree on the side of the canyon. It had worked once. He was such a kidder. Not like Jabril. She had to keep Alex and Alexis away from that monster.

  He continued, “It won’t take long for him to detect Alexis and realize he can use her to get to me.” He paused.

  She waited.

  “I think,” he said, “she has a boyfriend.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. She’s due. Been awhile since the last guy. Ought to be a trip, right?”

  A trip. Rachel sure hoped Alexis picked better than previously. The human race depended on it. The boys Alexis had dated in the local high school had been okay, but they never lasted long. Alexis was too mature. Teenaged boys were light years behind her: physically, mentally, and emotionally. Even so, Rachel had spent many a sleepless night thinking of ways to protect Alexis. The world had changed, and not for the better. That was one reason she had never had another child. She could probably have hidden it again from La Riva and the outside world. But she and Alex didn’t like where the world was heading, and they had no idea about how the next child might inherit Alex’s mutated DNA. As geneticists, they had both studied his DNA, and studied and studied some more. They thought about doing what some of the computer nouveau riche had done with the company BETTR, Best Embryo To Take and Raise. Pick and choose the DNA sequences they liked, then artificially inseminate and get the perfect child with all the right attributes. But somehow those attempts had all ended in some defect, like Dolly the sheep back in the early days. A defect in Alex’s offspring could end up with something more than mere lung disease or arthritis. It could produce another Jabril. No chance in hell they were going there.

  So instead of putting energy into another child, they doted on Alexis . . . maybe a little more than doted. They did what every other parent was doing, only much more. They changed her DNA to make her the savior of the world. End violence. End war. Bring peace. She had been their only and last mammalian DNA project. After finding out Jabril’s history, his family and their tragedy in Iraq, their research focus had changed from bioweapons to bio-foods. They’d concentrated on helping poor and developing countries with genetics, developed the GMO foods higher in protein and key vitamins.

  And now that research with Ambrosia could end the USA. All that effort at making good foods to save the world, and one greedy company could kill most of the U.S. population. Ambrosia’s unfettered desire for profit had placed the GMO foods into the market prematurely, before the coding mistake could be completely refined. It was better than the initial 50 percent mortality rate of the first foods. She and Alex had been hired to fix these mistakes, which they mostly had done, but were “let go” when they refused to agree that a 0.97% hemorrhage rate was acceptable to Ambrosia. They had been forced to leave their research, but they had booby-trapped it so no one could reproduce the 50% mortality GMO foods.

  But now Jabril was looking for ways to complete his mission to destroy the U.S. infidels. His mutated form was created by his scientists in 2001, and he likely still had contacts with them. They might have the ability to reproduce the 50% killer foods, then distribute them to the general population. It would kill millions, perhaps billions. She must stop that.

  The thought that Alexis was alone in Texas and Jabril loose . . . her stomach heaved. She should have never let Alexis go. Rachel wondered if Alexis’s new boyfriend could protect her. Had he already found out about the curse and treasure of Alex’s DNA? If he was indeed her boyfriend, she would not hold back. That was not in her. She could sense goodness and honesty instantly in others, and just as quickly, deceit and evil.

  “Anyway,” Alex said, “I’ll be driving out of here tomorrow. We got three feet of new snow so it’s gonna be slow going. Haven’t done any four-wheeling in snow for a while. Should be cool.”

  Their house still stood partially hidden behind a knoll in the wilderness of the High Sierra, a perfect place to move after Alex “died” fifteen-plus years ago and “wanted to stay ‘dead’” in the eyes of the government. Over the years they’d made many improvements inside, but the river-stone walls outside were as handsome and solid as the day they were finished by Rachel’s great-grandpa, sixty years previously.

  Alex yawned loudly. Not a sound she remembered hearing from him in a long time. He must be pushing himself hard to get Alexis before Jabril sensed her, or worse.

  “You sure you’re up to this. Maybe you should wait a day?”

  “No way. I’ll take a quick nap and head out in a few hours. Had some elk stew, a half- gallon of ice cream and a package of Oreos. That should do me.

  “Besides,” his tone became earnest. “Your information on Jabril’s flight plan . . .” He sighed. “He feels closer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a feeling. These things aren’t too exact, you know. But it feels like he’s going someplace besides Pensacola. Maybe Sam should check it out.”

  “Okay.” Now she was worried. Could Jabril already be going after Alexis?

  “Rache. I’ll be with Alexis tomorrow. She’ll be safe. I gotta go. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” More than that. She wanted to be with him to help their daughter. She ended the call and stared into space, wondering if she could catch a flight to Dallas.

  There was a knock at her door and she let Sam and Rocca in. “Bad news,” Sam said. It wasn’t a question. She looked up at him. He’d said “Bad news” but his face was lit up like he’d won the lottery.

  “The next flight to Pensacola out of Indianapolis is in two days, but one from Chicago leaves tomorrow morning. I booked a flight for Rocca from Chicago to Pensacola. I also booked a flight for you and me to Denver. You know, see Dan Trotter.” His eyes were wide, lips parted in a half smile, arms and legs tensed as if ready to run—body language of excitement. The tone of his voice invited her to join his excitement.

  She stared at him, hearing, processing, but not excited. “Do you have any confirmation that Jabril is going to Pensacola?”

  His smile faded and his body relaxed. “No, but he has no idea NSA heard that conversation. Pretty good bet it’s true. Why?”

  “Your low sources were wrong before. It would be nice to get confirmation.”

  Sam eyed her, expecting more, but she dropped it. She wanted to take the next flight to Dallas and find Alexis, run away with her, protect her. But with the flight problems, Alex would probably be there before her. And Rocca would confirm Jabril being in Pensacola tomorrow. Part of her was glad Jabril was leaving, going back to his home. There were some things you put in a drawer in your mind and kept it shut to avoid thinking about them. But now that he was loose, she couldn’t help wondering about those fifteen-plus years of biopsies and probes. She knew he probably had felt them, at least somewhere deep in the pain centers of his mind. She’d always known it. Denied it. Realized she had agreed with the General at one level. But now she had peeked into the drawer and was not happy with what she saw: allowing a human being to be tortured for a decade and a half.

  She casually turned away from Sam and Rocca and sat on the bed, wanting to cry and vomit and run out the door all at once. Jabril had been the cause of her husband’s near death, and would probably kill him on sight. How could she feel compassion for him? Okay, so his grandmother, Alexandra, had saved Alex’s parents from the Nazis, and was the reason Alex got his name and Alexis hers. Okay, so Alex wanted to save Alexis, but also wanted to save Jabril from his torturing tomb. Yeah, she did, too. She gritted her teeth, wiped nonchalantly at her eyes to avoid comments from The B
oys Club. Time to forget about Jabril. He was leaving. But she would not tell Sam or Rocca about Alex’s feelings that Jabril was not going to Pensacola. Now that the word was out about Jabril being free, the General would send his goons after him. It was better to just let Jabril leave.

  In the bathroom, Rachel brushed her teeth and changed into a faded and thin cotton fly- fishing tee shirt of Alex’s and cotton workout shorts. She looked in the mirror. A rainbow trout on the tee shirt brought back last summer on the river with Alex. She sighed and went back into the room and slipped inside the covers. Rocca was already snoring.

  “Night,” Sam’s voice was gentle.

  “Night,” she said.

  She slept, though fitfully and only for a few hours at a time due to bad dreams. After the last dream she could not go back to sleep. The severed head of the guard in the elevator in D.C. had rolled over to reveal Jabril’s face and black eyes, two circular mirrors with one face in each: Alex and Alexis.

  Chapter 11

  Jeff woke with a start. He opened his eyes, then immediately closed them. The Texas sunlight was way too bright. Where was he? Oh yeah, the girl. She was cute. But she gave him those pills. Shit! How long had he been out?

  He sat ramrod straight, or tried to, fell back into the chair, then pushed himself up, squinting through the light that streamed through the large front window. She must have drugged him. Now he would be sacrificed to some cannibalistic cult and—

  “Hi, Sleepyhead.” Her voice was as smooth and sweet as it had been last night . . . or maybe it had been longer. It felt so great to be rested; he must have been asleep a week.

  Shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand, he blinked at her. “Hi. How long have I been out?”

  “Since last night. Do you remember last night?”

  “Of course I remember last night. It’s the last few years that are blurry.”

  He licked his dry lips. A large bottle of water was thrust into his hands. “You need some water. I wanted to wake you and give you more last night, but you were so peaceful I couldn’t do it. Do you feel like you have to pee?”