by Franks, JK
“Why is this important, Tahir?”
“It’s important due to what it’s not good at.” He registered the looks of confusion. “The Archaea does not make for a good weapon. From a purely logical standpoint, it would not be a good base to develop a biological weapon system. I know DARPA and military science, they would have never gone down this route. I don’t care what country was doing the work in that underground lab. It was not a bio-weapon.”
“But someone did,” DJ said.
Scott was beginning to see where his friend was going. “If the point was to kill people, it was not the best option, even though it’s doing a damn good job of it. Shit, Europe, Asia and probably much of northeast US are gone because of it.” He paused. “If not designed to kill us, what was it being designed for?”
“I think that is really the right question,” Tahir said. “Gia mentioned that evolution is not always a straight line. Sometimes a genetic marker is activated to see if that modification is a helpful adaptation or not.”
DJ took over, “Yeah, basically the human genome has lots of code that is inactive, seems to do nothing. Not only can a gene be turned on or off, but also the degree that any gene can be allowed to express itself can be regulated. So, when a group of humans is under stress, such as with malnutrition, lots of genes may be activated in their offspring. Those descendants that do better will carry the winning combination of new genes. It’s less like an intelligent plan for success, but more like try everything and see what the benefit is…or the drawbacks. Those with beneficial adaptations will thrive, those without will fail.”
“Precisely, my friend,” Tahir chimed in. “Gia mentioned how long Skybox can hold his breath.”
“Yeah, the bastard is scary good, I watched him wrestle a sea turtle once,” Scott said.
Tahir nodded and continued. “Just before the blackout, I remember reading where researchers from UC Berkley discovered a group of people in southeast Asia who could dive down over 200 feet and hold their breath for up to thirteen minutes. They traced it to a unique DNA mutation that affected mainly the spleen's role in the human body cells’ ability to store oxygen. Now, this was natural evolution among a society that depends on the sea for food.”
Scott was mostly following it, “But how does that mutation develop, how did it spread?”
DJ offered some insight, “Naturally, aberrations happen all the time. The ones that get the attention are usually because of something external like a birth defect, maybe double eyelashes, but internal mutations happen as well. The first one of these people, um, what were they called, Tahir?”
“Bajau,” Tahir dredging the name up instantly from his vast mental repository.
“Okay, the first of the Bajau to have this probably was much better at fishing and providing for his family than the others. He would have likely had his pick of mates and produced descendants that also had the modified gene, and over eons, that gene would have become dominant in the Bajauan people.”
“Exactly, DJ,” Tahir said. “Now, imagine if the mutation had been for gills or fins. With the Archaea involved, researchers could try genes from other species, not just human. And, in this case, the Archaea is using the rabies, or A-side, as a vector to insert these random epigenetic changes into the host. It is turning on and off genetic markers at each iteration to see what works best. This is why what Gia has been doing is doomed to fail. Getting a handle on the mutations of the Chimera is so hard to follow. That is why the range of victims goes from the horrible zombie-like creatures to those like your friend, Skybox. The Archaea is firing everything it’s got. The ‘rabies’ side simply exists to get it distributed as widely and quickly as possible.”
Scott leaned back, “Whoa, fuck, ok…shit…damn, I think I actually get that. So, despite all the damage this pandemic is causing at the root level, it could be that researchers were attempting to manipulate human evolution on a grander scale?”
“I believe so, yes. We still need to run this by your lovely doctor, but this is my belief. Chimera is a Swiss Army knife for genetic engineering. Sadly, whatever manipulation they had planned never got programmed in, so now it is just randomly firing all of its genetic switches, some of which may produce an occasionally beneficial adaption, but many won’t. Sadly, the recipients of the A-side mutations will probably kill off many of the other variants, so it may take longer for those that are immune or possibly better to emerge.”
DJ was writing furiously trying to get it all down. Tahir wasn’t a doctor, but his vast depth of knowledge in such a broad area allowed him to see the distant mental horizon much clearer than most. The young researcher knew his boss would want to hear this as soon as possible.
Chapter Sixteen
Scott watched his older brother as he approached. He was startled to realize how much he now resembled their father. Bobby had seemed to age considerably in the time since the blackout. Trailing behind him and almost out of site was Jacob. The still silent but ever-present shadow of Bobby. Scott had thought of the boy as Bobby’s son in every way, although he had heard the tragic story of their escape from the Messengers and his mother’s sudden death. Bobby sat down at the window in the vinyl covered chair. The view overlooking the town and ocean beyond was hypnotic.
“What’s up, Bro?”
Bobby didn’t answer immediately, instead, he gazed out at the beautiful scene below. “Amazing we are here, Scott. Truly something else what you and the guys managed to accomplish. Dad would have been really proud of you.”
Scott had heard as much from him before, and honestly, it made him a little uncomfortable to hear his brother’s praises. After a lifetime of picking, fighting and pointy barbs, to know their relationship had matured to this point was a bit sad.
“So, you’re not still pissed about the cottage burning down?” Scott said.
Bobby smiled and shook his head. “We’ve been over that, it wasn’t you, and you saved my little girl that day. I have no complaints.”
The thugs that had taken over the old family cottage and eventually burned it down were trying to get to Scott and wanted to use Kaylie to draw him out. Bobby’s daughter had outsmarted them by hiding in the swamp until help arrived. Losing the cottage had been hard on Scott though. Rebuilding their dad’s old fishing cabin into the craftsman style cottage had been a labor of love, and it had been the perfect escape for him after his marriage failed.
“Listen, Scott, thinking of going out with Todd fishing tomorrow. Kaylie’s friend, Diana, is going to keep an eye on Jacob for me. Mrs. Mahalia asked if she could have some real seafood, she’s never tried it, if you can believe that. You want to join us?”
Scott smiled at the bit of almost normal in the conversation. “Sorry, I can’t, trying to pull something together before Gia comes back. How are Mahalia’s people doing, they get settled in ok?”
“Oh yeah, they went right to work finding places to help out. She is still healing up. Still hurting for the boys, of course. They are all so thankful. So am I, that was a nice thing you did. Didn’t know it was going to lead to all this though.”
Scott gave a small nod, “The Simpsons are good people, I’m glad we helped them. I wish we had enough firepower to go after those camps directly. Maybe Tremaine was taken there if he survived. The camps are too well defended to go after, we have to leave that for the military. Garret and his team are up near there with Sky and Jack scoping things out now. We probably should have known the bastards would go after the farms, too.”
“Yeah, ‘bout that. Been in the radio room most of the night. Sentinel was transmitting some files.”
Sentinel was a somewhat mysterious source of high-value information on what was dubbed ‘The Patriot Network’. The ‘network’ was made up of mostly amateur HAM radio operators across America. Most of them broadcast covertly as the signals could be tracked, and fears were that the government security forces were eliminating these as quickly as they were discovered. The man calling himself Sentinel seemed immune to
this as his broadcasts were frequent and specific. The intel he passed on could only come from sources in the military. The general consensus was he was either on a rebel military base or under the protection of one of the rogue base commanders. No one was exactly sure of his location other than somewhere in the Southeast. Bartos felt like it was in Florida, possibly Georgia, but the man never indicated.
“So, what did our friend have to say?”
“Nothing, he just sent the file.”
Scott was still not sure how you could send data files over radio signals but guessed it wasn’t that different than the satellite uplink he and Tahir occasionally used to connect to the few internet servers still operating. His brother handed him a tablet computer with an official looking document open.
“Should I read, or do you want to give me the short version?”
“Both,” Bobby said. “You need to read it through as there are a lot of specifics in there. Some more troubling than others. The gist of it is that what’s left of the Army is now in open combat with the president’s National Security Force. The Army is attacking lots of those internment camps to free the citizens being held. Also, they have been going after C&C installations to get food and fuel.”
Scott knew C&C meant Command and Control Infrastructure. “So, we are a country at war?” he asked his big brother.
“Seems that way, but the real bitch is they believe the president may be planning or possibly already has used the infected and the virus as a bio-weapon against them.” Jacob eased up between them and sat on Bobby’s lap giving Scott a small smile.
Scott watched the boy; even having seen so much, he was still such an innocent. How to keep something of the world for him to grow up in. Some tiny bit of sanity amidst the growing insanity. “Our president is reverting to terrorist tactics to hold on to power? Jesus, what’s next?”
“That’s about the gist of it. She is also leaving the camps with no food, and the fuel they are finding has already gone bad. It’s some shit. With no media or, hell, any kind of oversight, this woman is just doing whatever she wants. Trampling all over the Constitution and all Americans. They even believe she is starting to hire outside mercenaries, possibly even foreign soldiers to shore up the National Security Force. Foreign security forces holding our citizens in prison camps. Attacking our armed forces on American soil.”
Scott shook his head, he had never been one who cared for politics, and now it was almost all they discussed. Politics, the pandemic or the blackout, and they were all connected. “Catalyst.”
“Huh?” Bobby said confused.
“It’s all about Catalyst.” Scott offered. His brother nodded for him to continue. “We often speak of a catalyst as a person that causes a significant event. Tahir reminded me that in chemistry, catalyst is a substance that causes or accelerates a reaction without itself being affected. Both of these fits what is described in the Catalyst documents. It is not the government that is driving this, that has already mostly failed, it was…very much affected by the events. I now believe this group that Tahir has spoken of is the real issue.”
Bobby shook his head, “You are still buying into the conspiracy crap, Scott? Some cabal that rules the world? The Rothchild’s, or whoever it is this week. Shit, man, we have real tangible threats all around us. We don’t need the boogeyman.”
“Bobby, you are my big brother, but don’t be dense. I’m a lot of things, but you know I am not paranoid. The point is, Tahir is more informed than nearly anyone – he says there is something to this….well, I believe him.”
Bobby shrugged, looked at what Scott had been working on and frowned. “So, you are serious about leaving? Starting the engine and just cruising off into the sunset?”
Scott examined his brother; the man was a shadow of who he’d been before the collapse. “Man, you always fought my battles. You remember that kid back in middle school? The one with the port wine stain over half his face that kept punching me and stealing my lunch money?”
His older brother grinned dredging up the memory. “What was that rat’s name? Tony something. Oh, yeah, Tony the Rat, wasn’t it? Stinking little shit. Man, he was an evil prick.”
Scott nodded, “Anthony Ratuzzi, and yeah, he was a total shit, and you broke his nose.”
“He was going to hurt you bad one day, I just wanted it to stop. You’re my kid brother, nobody gets to fuck with you but me.”
“Bobby, the kid was in foster care, he had nothing. Had that messed up face and then a broken nose to go with it. Yeah, he ate a lunch a few times off of me, but big deal. It was more your pride than any real threat that drove that final fight.” Scott saw the anger building in his brother. “Listen, you have to know when to walk away. When staying and fighting doesn’t equal winning even if you do survive.”
Scott’s face took on a pensive expression. “Yes, Bobby, we are leaving. The AG will depart from America in order to save us all. Will you help me do that?”
Bobby hung his head, the weariness of the last few years. The things he had seen, things he had done, people he had lost…they all went through his head. He looked at the ink stain tattoo on the back of his hand, at what he had become just to survive. “I like it here, Scott. I enjoy the people and the work. I like being able to see my little girl and now, Jacob, grow up here.” At the mention of his kids, the tears came. He gently rubbed a hand through the boy’s hair.
He took a long time to continue,, and his little brother didn’t press. “If we have to leave to ensure they get to live, then yes, I’ll do it. I’ll help.”
Scott walked over and hugged his brother. “Damn, you are ugly when you cry—stop that shit or we’ll leave you behind.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Please, Scott, stop!”
He reached for her, desperate to calm her now. Her sobs were pitiful and bordering on manic. “I’m sorry, so sorry, Gia.”
She was inconsolable, he had inadvertently laid a mental trap and then sprung it on her. What had seemed like such a perfect night was crumbling away. The cake sat untouched, Angel had scrounged ingredients from who knows where to make it. The simple fact that Scott had even remembered her birthday should have surprised her. Just knowing the actual date in the absence of calendars was perhaps even more impressive. While today wasn’t officially the day, it was only a couple of days early, and he knew they wouldn’t be together on her actual birthday.
He’d worked with DJ to make sure she was caught up on work and would be traveling back to the AG for a long weekend. Angel had gotten the small cake ready, and Scott had prepared one of her favorite dishes, roasted chicken and asparagus in beurre blanc sauce. He’d opened his last bottle of wine and added a nearly white linen tablecloth to the table. The candlelight flickered off the woman’s grimace.
How was I to know that Gia’s daughter’s birthday had been two days before hers?
He had avoided opening the door to those memories so far, fearing what they might unleash. Now they were out there, and it wasn’t pretty. The woman he loved had gone through the range of emotions, from anguish to guilt to something he could not begin to interpret. He reached for her, and she stiffened and pulled away. The food sat untouched as did the open bottle of wine he had been holding onto for nearly two years.
How was he so bad at this? Memories of his first wife and how horribly that relationship had been bungled arced through him like a lightning bolt. He thought he was planning the perfect birthday, and yet, all he had done was torture her with bitter memories. He felt the circular band of metal in his pocket. Shit, it was definitely not the right time, he knew that.
The fire in her eyes dimmed slightly, and she leaned her tear-stained face in and kissed him. “You are such a good man, Scott. I am sorry, I know you…” Her words were almost lost in a choking sob. “I’m sorry, you deserve better than this.”
“It’s ok, honey, I should have thought to ask.” He wasn’t sure what to say or ask. Leaning back, he looked at the sunset streaking orang
e and red over the deck of the cruise ship. The flickering candles, less for romance and more for illumination, had been one more detail for the perfect night that wasn’t to be. The sunset and candlelight gave Gia’s red hair an almost unearthly glow. He watched her—taking in her beauty even in sadness. “Do you remember when you took me out for my birthday…back in college?”
She dabbed at her eyes and gave the briefest of laughs. “Oh, my God, that was awful—we drank that piss awful wine, and you talked me into singing karaoke. What on earth made us think that cheap wings and even cheaper wine were a good combo?”
He laughed at the shared memory. “We were broke. We were unpaid lab interns back then. We both got a stipend from the university, but that was laughably small. Besides, the wings were always good at that place. What was the name of it, over on College Street? He tapped on the table trying to remember and was glad the spell of misery seemed to be moving past.
“Gus’s Bar, and the wings were awful, especially when I tossed ‘em back up on stage in the middle of that song.”
They both laughed, and he pulled her close and held her. She no longer seemed as upset, but the coldness of her lost child was still there like a shadowy wraith. Scott was unsure if she had fully dealt with the loss of her daughter and husband in that helicopter crash. He’d feared bumping into their ghosts at every turn. He clearly knew and accepted that some parts of Gia were off limits to him, some memories apparently too much for her to share.
The night was a disaster, but still, she was here. He considered briefly asking about Tahir’s ideas but hated to dredge up work talk, no matter how important it was. He leaned down and kissed her. All of that other stuff would wait until later.