She couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, it may surprise you to hear this, but I wasn’t always this way. There was a time not so long ago when a man in very much the same position you’re in took advantage of me in a way he never should have. When I threatened to speak out, he ruined my life and I’ve been struggling back from the ash heap ever since.
“I learned very quickly to either lie down and give up or fight for what I believe in. Every day since then I’ve been tested in ways I never thought possible. Show me a man with a brash manner and I’ll show you someone who’s respected and revered. It’s too bad all you see when you look at me is a woman, rather than a member of a team working toward the same goal.
“If it’s awards and accolades you’re worried about, you can have them. All I want is for my six-year-old daughter to have a chance at a normal, happy life and maybe, just maybe, for her to one day look back at what I did and feel pride that her mom had the guts to stand up and speak her truth when everyone else was telling her to sit down and shut up.”
Dr. Putelli stood stunned. Maybe he’d expected her to slap him across the face or rant and rave and burst into tears. Whatever thoughts were going through his mind, they were likely travelling along uncharted neural pathways. She kept quiet and watched him turn and hurry from the lab. It often took strength to find a voice and speak up. Just the same, it often took wisdom to know when your point was already made.
•••
When Mia had finished sequencing and analyzing the DNA in the twins’ Salzburg chromosome, she gathered everyone together in the lab in order to share the findings. Dr. Putelli stood before her, arms crossed, a hard look on his face. A few technicians and assistants were present, as well as Ollie.
Mia held up the blood vials. “These two young girls represent the first known cases of patients with the entire Salzburg chromosome. We’ve already seen the devastating effects the genes in the 47th chromatid produced. LRP5 weakened our bones; TRPP2 made us hide from the sun; DAF4 weakened our immune system, aging some patients prematurely; and SER3 was responsible for the comatose state so many are experiencing, including my own daughter.
“The four genes from the 48th chromatid are vastly different and in many cases, behave in ways that are downright astonishing. Some we’ve already come to know well. Like the gene LRP5, which encodes a protein that greatly increases bone density; SOD11A and the powerful protein Dsup, incredibly helpful in shielding us from radiation; MRE11, which repairs errors in our DNA; and finally, HOK3, perhaps the most mysterious of them all. Far more testing remains to be done, but here’s what we know about it so far. The gene seems to affect the parahippocampal gyrus in the cerebral cortex.”
Ollie’s weathered face looked blank.
“Uh, that is to say,” she explained for him in particular, “the region of the brain that surrounds the hippocampus and is responsible for memory and visuospatial processing. Asymmetries in this area are sometimes associated with schizophrenia, which may explain the symptoms Dr. Putelli observed in the girls. HOK3 is the least understood of Salzburg’s genes. That also makes it potentially the most dangerous. If schizophrenia is the final stage for billions of people on earth, we need to know and we need to know now. Which brings me to my next question.” She fixed Dr. Putelli with a determined stare. “Where are the twins now?”
He looked up. “They were taken to a facility in Rome for psychiatric evaluation.”
“What’s the name of the hospital?” she asked.
Dr. Putelli bobbed his head with indecision. “It’s not a hospital. It’s a mental health facility.”
“You sent them to an asylum?” Ollie snapped.
Dr. Putelli didn’t respond.
Mia caught Ollie’s eye. “You up for a cab ride?”
“With you? Any day.”
“Unfortunately, your chances of getting a cab in Rome right now are next to nil,” Dr. Putelli told them. “Ever since the civil unrest and the labor shortage, even public transportation has been drastically reduced.”
“Will you come with us then?”
He waved his hands in front of him apologetically. “I don’t have such an easy time in those places.”
Mia threw him a look. “Then can we borrow your car?”
Chapter 40
Washington, D.C.
Kay slid the picture across the table, pushing it into Leslie Fisher’s line of sight. The investigative reporter glared down at it, biting her lower lip with all the frenetic grace of a squirrel eating an acorn. Kay turned and scanned the handful of patrons inside the coffee shop.
The air was thick with the smell of exotic coffee. International blends were what La Colombe on 1st and 6th was known for. Leslie was sipping on the Brazilian while Kay had opted for the Ethiopian. They were less than a mile east of the White House, which explained the increased military presence. Outside, the noonday sun was in full effect. But with every passing day the streets were becoming more and more deserted. Perhaps it had something to do with the soldiers stationed outside grocery stores, gas stations and banks. The government had started issuing ration cards to families via their smartphones. The first few hours after news broke that the ship was on its way, people had tried to stockpile as much food and supplies as they could. But hoarding was only going to help the lucky few who were fast enough, leaving the rest of the country in an increasingly desperate and dangerous state of mind. Kay glanced out the plate-glass window at the three soldiers chatting on the sidewalk.
“I knew someone was following me,” Leslie said, shaking her head. “When you see the same car behind you day after day you start to wonder if you’re becoming paranoid.”
“What do they want with you?” Kay asked.
“I’ve been working on a story for the Washington Tribune. A sort of retrospective on the Kennedy administration. It was supposed to be a fluff piece, until I stumbled onto a group of wealthy international industrialists in the late 50s and early 60s who had banded together to put pressure on the government.”
“Pressure over what?”
“Space,” she said, a note of surprise in her voice. “If you can believe it. Apparently in 1963 NASA scientists detected a burst of cosmic radiation being emitted from a planet ten light years from Earth. Of course, they were confused, since cosmic rays are normally blasted into space from supernovas and pulsars, not from ordinary planets. When they analyzed the signal, they found that it was filled with reams of binary data, but at the time they couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. Regardless, they were confident they’d found proof of life beyond Earth. Those working on the project were sworn to secrecy and it was given a top-secret compartmentalized classification. Not even Kennedy was briefed or supposed to be told anything about it. But somehow he found out. The space race was already in full swing. And now not only was Kennedy about to make an announcement that they’d found proof of extraterrestrial life, but he was going to fund a special program tasked with trying to make contact.”
Kay was stunned. “I’ve never heard any of this, so obviously they talked him out of it.”
Leslie gave her a look. “Yeah, they convinced him in Dallas with a bullet to the back of the head.”
“No,” Kay said, drawing out the word.
Leslie nodded. “Only a handful of folks are left in this town old enough to remember and even fewer willing to talk about it.”
“And Lee Harvey Oswald?”
“That part of the assassination conspiracy was true. Oswald was a Cuban sympathizer who was used to carry out the killing.”
“So who was behind it then?”
Leslie tilted her head slightly. “Back in those days they were called the Majestic 12. Today, they’re known as Sentinel and they want nothing more than for Earth to keep to itself and stay out of the crosshairs of some roving galactic bully.”
“Well, it looks like they’ve done a pretty crappy job of it,” Kay said.
“Some things are clearly beyond their control. How could they have know
n that millions of years ago some alien ship had buried itself under the Gulf of Mexico? Or that for reasons no one really knows, another would be on its way?”
“What about your story in the Tribune?” Kay asked.
“They had it buried,” Leslie said. “Tied the paper up in litigation, threw everything they could at us. Nearly bankrupted the paper. Thankfully you didn’t have that problem.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.”
“I hear you’re up for a Pulitzer,” Leslie said. “Although who can say whether anyone will still be around to hand it to you.”
Kay tried to smile but the muscles in her face wouldn’t cooperate. “You think Sentinel also tried to assassinate President Taylor?”
“I wouldn’t put it past them. Although convincing the top members of President Taylor’s cabinet to join the conspiracy was a stroke of genius, if you ask me. All I know is if it wasn’t for you, they would have gotten away with it.” Leslie sipped at her coffee. “I hear Myers is pressuring the Justice Department to try them as war criminals and has already recommended the death penalty. I also heard he’s had dozens of others arrested too. It’s like the French Revolution all over again.”
She was talking about the Terror, a ten-month period from 1793 to 1794 when a zealous revolutionary government used public executions as a way of spreading fear and obedience throughout the population.
There was certainly no shortage of fear. It was one of the reasons the streets were so empty. People were staying put, only going out when they had no other choice. The coffee shop was no exception. Normally at this time of day, the place would be packed with long lines stretching out the door. The smattering of people here now only made the contrast that much starker. And those who were here looked stressed out.
Going to a minimum-wage job was the last thing on the minds of people who believed the end was near. They were getting their coffee fixes by buying in bulk and staying home. A growing chorus of voices online, however, was calling the whole thing a giant hoax. That the planet wasn’t about to get pummeled, that the story had been concocted by the government as part of a giant power grab. The rallies they held, initially attended by a few dozen strange-looking characters in black jeans and sweatshirts, were now numbering in the hundreds and thousands. The group’s biggest publicity stunt to date had been breaking into the Senate Intelligence Committee hearing and releasing canisters of tear gas on the scientists who had come to brief Congress. Kay’s eyes dropped to the file folder and the picture of Mia Ward and Jack Greer. She wondered where they were and what they were doing that Sentinel wanted them out of the way.
“What about you?” Kay asked instead. “Aren’t you worried they might hurt you?”
Leslie leaned in. “My father-in-law has a cabin in North Carolina. The plan is to pack up the family and leave tonight.” She plucked her purse off the seat next to her and opened it so Kay could see. Inside was a silver revolver with a black grip. “You have one, right?”
Kay shook her head. She scanned for the soldiers again but they were gone. “I was gonna get one after I was attacked, but my father talked me out of it.”
Leslie reached down and removed a small .25 caliber pistol she kept strapped to her ankle. She folded it in a napkin and slid it over to Kay. “Consider this a parting gift. Just in case we don’t see one another again.” Tears were already gathering along her eyelids. “Stay safe,” she mouthed. Leslie got up and walked out, leaving Kay with more to process than she had ever thought possible.
She had not gotten far when she saw a series of messages from her fiancé Derek.
Where have you been?
I’ve been trying to reach you.
She texted back: “Chasing a lead. I’ll come by your place tonight and tell you all about it.”
Your dad called. It was about your mother. Has he reached out?
Kay’s brow crinkled with concern. “I missed the call. What about her? She all right?”
Call him. Then call me right after.
The house phone rang twice before Kay’s dad answered. Judging by the noise in the background, the choir was in full swing and louder than ever. “Derek said you were trying to get hold of me,” she said, shouting over the racket. A woman two seats over threw Kay a dirty look. “Is Mom okay?”
“Yes, Kayza, your mother is fine. In fact, she is more than fine. Last night she sat up straight as a board and began talking. I tell you, it’s nothing short of a miracle!”
“Oh, Dad, that’s terrific,” Kay said, ecstatic. “I’ll bet Mom hasn’t wasted any time belting out her favorites with the choir.” Her mother had been one of the choir’s founding members when Felix had opened his ministry. It was part of the reason he had invited them to keep vigil by her bedside. If anything could pull her from the darkness, he had hoped it was the sound of her beloved choir.
“Well, no, she’s not exactly singing.” There was something in her father’s voice, the slightest hint of hesitation, concern.
“What do you mean? What’s she doing?”
“Kay, I’m not sure. From the moment she woke up she’s been scribbling. She’s gone through nearly all the paper in the house.”
She knew her father well enough to know that trace of worry in his voice was over her mother’s soul. He might not want to come right out and admit it, but he was starting to think some mischievous spirit had jumped under her skin while she had been lying there, sick and vulnerable. It certainly explained the extra oomph coming from the choir.
“Dad, take a good look,” Kay practically ordered him. “What do you see?”
There was a pause as he did what she asked. “Page after page, it all looks the same.”
“Are they drawings?” she asked, exasperated. “Is Mom drawing pictures?”
“No, not drawings, Kayza,” her father replied, fear rising in his voice. “All I see are zeros and ones.”
Chapter 41
Greenland
Jack came to pinned against the back wall of a house, his legs, arms and upper torso covered in ice and snow. He struggled to move. More importantly, he struggled to recall what had happened. The last thing he remembered was calling out a warning and seeing a blizzard exploding before his eyes. He realized now that blizzard had been a jagged chunk of ice crashing next to them.
Tamura was the first to appear. She staggered into the house and proceeded to start digging Jack out. Moments later Dag joined in. Once Jack’s arms had been freed, he was able to help them with the rest. They lifted him to his feet. Jack searched himself for injuries.
“Everyone accounted for?” he asked.
Dag shook his head.
Jack hurried from the building and into what looked like a war zone. A mound of ice boulders nearby had a metallic hand sticking out the top. He ran over as fast as his legs could carry him and began digging Anna out. When he reached her head, he wiped the snow from her digital face.
“Anna, you with me?”
The screen was black.
“Anna!”
Slowly, faint features began to emerge. But where her eyes once sat there were now two X’s. Below that, her tongue flopped out between slightly parted lips.
Jack frowned until he understood she was pulling his leg.
The screen flickered and her regular features returned.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he said, pulling her upright.
She bent forward, inspecting her legs.
Soon, all were accounted for except Gabby. From the street, it was clear a few of the surrounding buildings had been destroyed by falling ice. Could she have been inside one of these when they were hit? Everyone pitched in to help search, calling out to her over the radio as they dug.
“Uh, Jack,” Grant said, motioning, his voice somber.
Jack was suddenly overcome with a pang of fear and anguish. “Please don’t let Gabby be dead.” He repeated the words over and over, until they became a mantra. He crossed the street and arrived at the shell of a building where Grant was
waiting. It looked as though a bomb had gone off inside. The walls were blown clear out and a gaping hole, nearly ten feet wide, remained where the floor had once stood.
The others circled around, staring down into the yawning black mouth at their feet. Jack got down on his hands and knees and switched on his helmet light.
“It looks like a fifteen- to twenty-foot drop,” he said, scanning back and forth until he centered the beam over what looked like the white boot from a biosuit.
“I see something,” he shouted, pointing. A mound of broken ice boulders lay beside her. Before anyone could talk him out of it, Jack dropped down, landing in what turned out to be pulverized ice crystals. In a matter of minutes, he dug Gabby out and sat her up against a wall that appeared to have been cut out of the bedrock.
“Is she okay?” Tamura asked.
The visor on Gabby’s helmet had a crack running down the front of it. Jack removed it and set it aside. He slid his left glove off and pressed the pads of his fingers against her carotid artery, feeling for a pulse.
“She’s alive,” he shouted. “She must have been standing in the doorway when the boulder knocked out the floor and pulled her down.”
Mullins leapt in, landing in the mound.
“That looked fun,” Dag said from above, sounding like a child anxious to play a new game.
Jack glanced up. “I’m not sure how we’re gonna get her out of here.”
“I heard about a situation like this in a riddle once,” Mullins said, searching around. “If we push everything we find into a pile, we might be able to make it to the top.” He disappeared from view for a moment and returned with an armful of dirt mixed with white sticks. He tossed them onto the snow pile and returned for more. “You gonna help or what?”
Jack crawled over to the items Mullins had just dropped and picked up one of the sticks. “Where did you find this?”
“They’re all over the place,” he said, breathing hard.
Extinction Countdown (Ancient Origins Series Book 2) Page 21