“Only superficially. It's a complex issue, and while we may find the ETA’s means to be offensive, the Basque People have legitimate grievances.” Denise paused. “It’ll be interesting to discuss this with Zack when he’s ready.”
“You didn’t mention my uncle Samuel, did you?”
“Of course, I did. You worshipped him.”
“Another naïve bleeding-heart progressive of his day.”
“Maybe naïve, but I’ll take his naivety over Franco’s violent fascism any day.”
Three days later, Zack came to Denise. “I’ve been all over the Internet about the Basque people, and I’m more confused than ever.”
“When politics and history clash, truth suffers. Spain, the Basques, and the world have their own versions and ideologies.”
“The controversy shows best on the Wikipedia page.” Zack said. “It’s full of disclaimers, but most of what I read makes me sympathetic to their cause, but I can’t stand the violence.”
“Since 2010, the ETA has disavowed violence. “
“They’ve participated in cease fires before,” Zack said, “but they don’t last. Is it possible that violence begets violence,” he paused. “That goes all the way back to The Gospel of Matthew, or more recently to Martin Luther King. Both sides may have become inured to it?”
“Maybe,” Denise responded, “but neither Spain, nor the Basques have clean hands, and if you recall, America has had its own problems. Maybe the Basques have learned from their mistakes—I hope that’s so.”
“I watched several videos of Basque speech, mostly political, but a few showed the beauty of the language. I didn’t understand a thing, but it relaxed me just to listen. Do you remember any Basque?”
“Just a few words—most not suitable for polite company.”
“Do you think we could find a school or a tutor? I’d love to learn that language.”
“This is Berkeley. You can find just about anything here.”
Chapter Nineteen
Jorge Moneo’s office was in the Directorate for Science and Technology at Denisovan Laboratories in Emeryville, California. The laboratory door carried no names, only its title: Evolutionary Biology and Scientific Advancement Technologies.
Jorge sat at his desk. His associate, Zeru Ibarra sat next to him and turned on the computer. As she waited for the computer to boot, she stared at the blue-green flag mounted on the wall behind Jorge’s desk. The flag had a caduceus-like symbol, with the words, ‘bietan jarrai’ below.
She pointed to the flag. “It reminds me of the medical caduceus, and what does it say below?”
“The flags are barely similar,” Jorge said. “It's a single serpent and an axe. It's the symbol of the ETA, the Basque liberation organization. Our enemies characterized us as Spain’s terrorists, but as you know, former Attorney General Ramsey Clark once noted that one person's terrorist is another person's freedom-fighter.”
“Maybe so, but it surprises me that you display it. If your friends in the FBI come to visit, they’re gonna love it.”
“Screw the FBI. It's a free country, don’t forget. Even my limited experience with the ETA has given me credibility with our benefactors. They must think I’m worth something to them.”
After the computer finished booting, Zeru entered a series of codes, and accessed the local area network. A few more strokes and she turned to her boss. “Señor Doctor Moneo, this is the DNA profile on subject, 3, Zack Berg.”
“How did you get a sample?”
“Our friend brought a Coke can. Incredibly, it shows 18 percent object DNA. We’ve never seen such a high value before.”
Jorge shook his head. “Impossible. That’s too high.”
“I’m sorry, Señor. I don’t understand.”
“It's a higher concentration than we’ve seen before. We’ll need to repeat it.”
“I’ll see to it.”
Moneo nodded. “What about the other subjects?”
“Their profiles are in the works.”
“What’s the phenotype of subject 3?”
“His outward appearance is entirely normal,” Zeru said. “He even has red hair.”
“Red hair! That fits, doesn’t it?”
Zeru smiled. “Summit Center had pretty good security for an educational program, but I finally hacked in.”
“And?”
“You were right, Jorge. Zack Berg had the highest scores they or we’ve ever seen. He may turn out to be the best of our talented group. His physical and intellectual accomplishments are well beyond the 98th percentile for his age.”
“Impressive.”
“When will we have the opportunity to study him?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s essential that we evaluate the scope of his abilities,” she said.
“Don’t you think I know that? His parents are watchdogs. We’ll need to find a way.” Moneo entered a series of keystrokes on his computer. “Take a look at this. It’s a clip from our friend’s iPhone.”
The video opened on the gym at Piedmont elementary. Two groups were playing basketball. They had divided the teams into shirts and skins. The skins group had one boy slightly taller and more muscular than most. He had red hair, bright blue eyes, and freckled skin. They watched for ten minutes as the boys played.
“The redhead,” Moneo said, “that’s our boy, Zack.”
She stared at the screen. “He’s gorgeous—a real heartbreaker.”
“Keep your eyes on the subject,” Moneo growled.
Jorge gasped when the referee called a foul on Zack, and he ran both hands over his red hair, a gesture all too familiar to Jorge.
After another ten minutes, Moneo turned to Zeru. “What do you think?”
“I think he’s holding back. If he wanted to, he could run circles around those kids.”
“I agree,” smiled Moneo. “This may turn out to be our biggest obstacle.”
When the repeat analysis on Zack’s DNA conformed 18 percent Neanderthal DNA, Zeru said, “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps Denise’s family originated at the Western Pyrenees. They have the highest Neanderthal percentage, or for some reason, the father had a high percentage as well.”
“Zack’s father’s family are Russian Jews,” Zeru said. “That doesn’t help.”
“Perhaps their family came from Siberia,” Jorge said. “That’s the location of the Denisovan Cave, and the earliest description of Neanderthals.”
“You’re reaching,” Zeru said.
“Well, Zeru, genetics is ultimately a crapshoot—you’re never quite sure what you’re going to get.”
After that scrimmage, the basketball coach called Zack over. “Great play. Zack. You have a real instinct for the game.”
“Thanks, Coach, basketball’s fun.”
“If you spent more time practicing on the free-throw line, you’ll improve a lot.”
“Maybe, but it’s so boring. I hate standing there shooting over and over again. Anyway, my percentage is nearly as good as Michael Jordan’s.”
The coach frowned. “Listen, kid. You’re no Michael Jordan.”
“I’m sorry, Coach. That’s not what I meant. Nobody’s as good as Jordan was. I’ll try harder, okay?”
“Sure, kid. I’m sorry. Don’t tell your folks about this conversation.”
“Why?”
Coach shook his head. “If I say hello to you or to your mother, she’s all over my case.”
“She’s a bit overprotective, Coach.”
“Ya think?”
“My lips are sealed.”
Coach looked at Zack and smiled.
When Zack got home he went into the kitchen where Denise was preparing dinner. Zack went up to her and gave her a kiss.
“How was practice?”
“It was okay.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll go onto another subject.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s mostly borin
g and it takes me away from my more serious studies. There’s so much to learn, and so little time.”
“Your father and I are trying to strike a balance among all your activities. You’re so young and we think it’s a mistake to limit your interests.”
“I don’t know how to say this, Mother, without sounding spoiled or arrogant.”
“You’re neither, so go ahead.”
“I don’t have to limit anything. I can handle it all.”
Denise smiled and grasped his hand. “Maybe you’re right, but if I were you, I would keep that bit of information to myself.”
Chapter Twenty
Zack, Ella, and Kenny were on their way back to Ella’s when sirens in the distance caught their attention.
Kenny held his hands over his ears. “Make it stop, Zack. I can’t stand it.”
Two fire engines and an ambulance raced down the street and turned right at the next corner.
“Let’s see what’s happening,” Zack said as he rushed ahead.
Kenny held back. “I can’t Zack.”
“Go home, Kenny,” Ella said. “You’re just a half block away.”
Kenny turned back, walked thirty feet and then rushed back to Zack’s side grabbing his arm. “I’ll stay with you.”
When they turned the corner, a small, ivy-covered frame house had smoke rising from its roof. The firefighters had deployed the engines and an ambulance was standing by. Firefighters were coming and going from the house while the EMTs were working over a teenage girl on the lawn.
As they approached the site, the firefighters had set up a protective perimeter with yellow tape. One firefighter, in full gear, held up his hands. “Nobody beyond this point.”
A fire captain was issuing instructions to his men. “Have we cleared the building?”
“Yes, sir,” said a young firefighter. “Went through every room.”
“Get on the hoses,” the captain said. “We may be a bit late in controlling this fire.”
Zack stared at the house. The flames and smoke fascinated him. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind. Suddenly, it was there…the cry for help. Zack hesitated a moment, and then lifted the yellow tape and moved toward the captain.
Kenny grabbed Zack’s arm. “No, Zack. Don’t go.”
Zack pulled Kenny’s arm away. “Relax. I’ll be fine.”
“Hey,” the firefighter yelled, “get back behind the line.”
Zack ignored him, and rushed up to the captain. “There’s someone inside. Do something. It’s a child.”
The captain stared at Zack with disbelief. “What are you talking about?” He turned to a firefighter. “Get this kid out of here.”
When the firefighter grabbed Zack and tried to drag him away, he resisted, and stopped. “What’s the matter with you? You’re letting him die.”
The captain walked up to Zack. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My men have cleared the building. Nobody’s inside.”
“You’re wrong, Zack shouted. “He’s there.” Zack paused for a long moment in thought. “I hear his screams.”
“You’re dreaming, kid.”
“No. I have great hearing. I heard him. He’s inside.”
The captain turned to his men. “Screams…anyone hearing screams?”
“No skipper,” said a firefighter, “We’ve cleared the building.”
The captain turned to his men. “Get this kid out of here. He’s wasting my time.”
Ella stood behind the tape gesturing for Zack to return. Kenny was clutching her tightly.
As the firefighter dragged Zack near the tape, Zack shook free. “You can’t do this—I won’t let you do this…”
Zack bolted for the front door. It was billowing with grey smoke.
Ella screamed. “Zack…don’t…Zack, get back here.”
A firefighter yelled, “Stop him, goddam it! Stop him!”
Zack was heading for the front door when a middle-age man and woman, and a firefighter raced up to the captain. “It’s their house,” said the firefighter.
“Where is Terry and Lizzie?” demanded the woman.
The captain shook his head. “Who?”
“Our son and the sitter,” the man shouted. “Where the hell are they?”
The woman looked toward the lawn, grabbed her husband’s arm, and rushed over to the girl. She grabbed her, lifted her to a sitting position and said, “Lizzie—Lizzie—where’s Terry? Terry—Where is he?”
The girl coughed repeatedly and choked as she tried to speak. After a moment, she raised her hand and pointed at the house.
“Oh, my God,” the father cried.
The woman screamed and fainted.
The fire chief gasped and stood bolt upright, and shook his head. “Shit! Goddamit!” he bellowed and called his second in command.
The fire captain grabbed the boy’s father. “Where would he be?”
“His bedroom is in the right rear corner—please—please, don’t let my boy die!”
Zack thrust himself through the door and into the smoke. He immediately fell to the floor as a firefighter had instructed students at a school fire safety program. He began to crawl toward the right rear of the house. He was coughing and choking with each foot. Fire flared from both sides singing his hair. “I’m here,” he shouted. “I’m coming.”
He crawled down the hallway to the room on the right rear side of the home, and pushed his way into the smoke filled bedroom. Flames erupted from a bathroom in the rear.
Zack paused and closed his eyes for a moment, and then he crawled to the bunk bed in the right corner. He checked both bunks…empty, and then slid under the bed where a young boy had curled himself over in the fetal position. He reached for the boy who pulled away from Zack’s hand. Zack forced himself further under the bed and then grabbed the boy’s arm, pulled him out and lifted him onto his shoulders. Zack took a deep breath, coughed, and ran down the corridor toward the front door. Before he could get out, two firefighters grabbed him and the boy and rushed them out the door. Suddenly, the entire house erupted into flames.
Zack and the boy lay on the soft grass with respirators over their faces. Both coughed, choked, and gasped for breath. After several minutes, Zack sat up, studied the boy, and said, “Terry, I’m so glad you’re safe.”
The boy’s parents were all over Terry with hugs and kisses.
The fire captain pulled Zack from the ground grasping this shirt. “Are you nuts? You could have been killed!”
Ella and Kenny rushed up and hugged Zack.
Ella stood back and nodded knowingly at Zack, while Kenny held on tight.
The fire chief stared at Zack. “You’re coming with me to the station. You have a lot to explain.”
“Can I catch my breath first?” Zack said coughing.
As the chief glared at Zack, Terry’s parents rushed up and hugged him. Terry’s mother had tears running down her cheeks as she held Zack in a tight grip kissing his hands. “Thank you…good God, thank you. You saved our boy.”
Terry’s father forced himself between the captain and Zack. “If you’re taking him anywhere, it better be for a medal. You give this kid a hard time, I’m going to the press with your incompetence. He saved my child and your ass—be grateful.”
The captain stood back, appalled. “No sense getting excited. Your boy’s alive and well.”
Terry’s father put his arm around Zack as they walked away. After a few steps, they were next to Ella. He turned to Zack. “I heard you say, Terry. How did you know that was his name?”
Zack thought for a moment, trying to come up with an acceptable answer, and then he said, “His drawings by the bed were signed, ‘Terry’.”
Ella stared at Zack, grinned, and slowly shook her head.
Chapter Twenty-One
Denise had Patricia Henry, the Summit Program director, on the phone.
“How are things with Zack?” Patricia asked.
“It's never a dull moment. If he wasn’t self-m
otivated, keeping him stimulated could turn out to be a nightmare.”
“We’d like to see him sometime over the next month or so.”
“Why?”
“Relax, Denise. It's routine.”
“If Zack wasn’t as calm and grounded, I think my craziness and overprotectiveness could harm him.”
“How can I help you?”
“Zack has become interested in his heritage, especially the Basque component of it. He wants to learn the language.”
“We didn’t know you were Basque.”
“Does that make a difference?”
“Not really,” Patricia said. “The Basques are an interesting people.”
“And, a troubled people, too. Anyway, Zack wants to learn the Basque language, but I can’t find a program or a tutor to teach him.”
“This is peculiar,” Patricia said. “If we’d known about a Basque connection, we might have considered…”
“Considered what?”
“Have you heard of the Global Center for Gifted and Talented Children?”
“I know the name, but not much else.”
“We know a school in Emeryville named, The Denisovan School for the Gifted. It is a branch of the Global Center. Professor Jorge Moneo built the first school of that name in Basque country and when he left, he re-established the school here. He works with an associate, Zeru Ibarra, an evolutionary biologist at UC Berkeley. Let me discuss this with them.”
“That name, Moneo, is familiar. We met a priest with that name when Zack was born.”
“Interesting. I’ll let you know.”
Jorge put down the phone. He smiled at Zeru. “Patricia Henry of the Summit Center has someone interested in learning the Basque language.”
“That’s a first.”
Jorge smiled. “Wait until you hear the name.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Zack Berg.”
Zeru sat bolt upright. “You’re kidding.”
Jorge shook his head. “I told her how busy we were. How we’d like to help but just didn’t have the time.”
“You’re out of you mind, Jorge.”
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