Border Prey

by Jessica Speart

  Gracie abruptly stopped and stared at him, causing my heart to flutter. Then, slipping her hand between the metal bars, she extended a slender finger and began to wipe away his tears.

  My vision blurred as Dan caught Gracie’s hand in his own and brought it to his lips, where he lightly kissed her fingertips. The bittersweet moment came to an end when Kitrell began to sign to once again. Suddenly, both pairs of hands flew in fast and furious motion.

  Magical as it was, I knew the longer we stayed here, the greater the risk. “You’ve found Gracie. Now let’s free the other chimps and get going,” I reminded Kitrell. A growing sense of urgency was beginning to nip at me with sharp teeth.

  Dan’s expression had turned to sheer exasperation. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell Gracie. But she insists I have to find something before we can leave.”

  “Whatever it is can’t be that important,” I impatiently insisted, the nipping now keener and more persistent. “Let’s just open this cage and get her out of here.” I pulled out my Leatherman and went to work.

  However, Gracie’s behavior grew increasingly agitated. She soon stopped communicating altogether, and banged at the bars in a fit of rage. Finally, she folded her arms against her chest as if she were holding a bundle and rocked back and forth.

  The catch popped open. “Grab her and let’s go,” I instructed, not in the mood for dealing with a temper tantrum.

  Kitrell placed a hand on my arm. “Wait a minute. Gracie’s trying to tell me that she has a baby,” he disclosed.

  What? I nearly screamed in frustration. “But wouldn’t the baby still be with her, if that were true?”

  “Yes. Infants generally aren’t taken away, unless the mother’s a bad parent. And I don’t believe that would be the case with Gracie.” Kitrell watched as the chimp repeated the sign once more. “Maybe she’s got it confused. She always loved to cuddle small things, from dolls to kittens. It must be something like that.”

  There was still another floor to be checked for primates; we needed to wrap this up. I was prepared to drag Gracie out by force if necessary, when my eyes fell upon a peek-a-boo line that ran across the width of her lower belly. A fine layer of newly grown hair barely camouflaged the pink scar which peeped through.

  “Oh, my God.” My finger drew Kitrell’s attention to the spot.

  “Maybe she’s telling the truth after all,” he responded, staring at the incision.

  Then he turned to me with an expression far more fierce than that of any Old Testament prophet. Cecil B. DeMille would have killed to cast this guy in The Ten Commandments.

  “That could be due to a cesarean,” he said somberly. It had been my immediate guess, as well. Still, I’d never known of a chimp to need such a procedure. “Even if Gracie had a baby, why would Pierpont perform a C-section?”

  Kitrell opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, as if he didn’t dare voice what he feared. He turned and dashed from the room as fast as if hounds of hell were after him. This wasn’t the time for Kitrell to lose his cool—not if we planned to get the chimps and ourselves out of here, all in one piece. I closed Gracie in her cage and followed Kitrell to the very last door, its entrance guarded by one of F.U. Krabbs’ pain-in-the-ass alarms.

  Kitrell banged the wall hard with his fist, and then clamped onto my shoulders.

  “Okay, Houdini. I’ve already tried Gracie’s ID, along with the other numbers on that piece of paper, and none of them work. You figured out the other alarms. Now I need you to come through for me on this one.” His fingers dug into my flesh. “I’ve got to find out if Pierpont’s done what I suspect—so I need to get inside this room.”

  This guy was getting to know me all too well. There was no way I could turn down such a challenge. Especially since I was hell bent on discovering what was going on, myself.

  “Okay. Let me think, let me think, let me think,” I muttered, hoping the words would help kickstart my brain. Sometimes it pays to let your mind wander. Mine was tap dancing away, which made me think of Lizzie and last night’s conversation.

  Yes! The code had to be the series of numbers Lizzie had copied off F.U.’s computer!

  The best thing about wearing the same clothes every day is that everything is always right there in your pockets. My fingers trembled as I pulled out the note and punched in one set of numbers after another. But the door remained as maddeningly stubborn as Gracie.

  It was then that I stopped thinking about codes, and began to study the hardware before me. For the first time, I realized the numbers were arranged like those on a push-button phone, with corresponding letters of the alphabet.

  Screw this! I thought, deciding upon a totally different tack. I crumpled the paper and punched in the letters for F.U.’s favorite word: Cupcake. The lock opened with a sharp, metallic click. Dan placed his hand on the knob, took a deep breath, and entered.

  The room gleamed with spic-n-span polish. On a stainless steel counter sat a sparkling array of stainless steel containers and surgical instruments.

  My eyes were drawn to a metal box mounted on four sturdy legs. It contained a door with a plexi-glass window mounted in its center, and was as enticing as having stumbled upon an early Christmas present. Especially since the receptacle was angled just enough to block my view inside. I headed straight for the box, bursting with the need to know exactly what Dr. Scissorhands was up to. As I got closer, I realized it was some sort of high tech incubator, with a tube attached to the back providing the air supply.

  I was certain it wouldn’t contain a mini-replica of Lizzie’s barking darling, Ten-Karat. My curiosity pounded as I cautiously peered inside, only to be held captive by what I saw. Reality had suddenly taken on a whole new dimension.

  Looking back at me lay an infant with ten perfect fingers, and ten tiny toes. Her round little skull held a pair of pink lips, and a cute little button nose. A set of bright eyes gazed into mine, filled with a growing sense of wonder. Their color was cornflower blue, leaving no doubt as to the identity of the father. The only other eyes I’d ever seen in that shade belonged to that bonzai buckaroo, F.U. However, that’s where all similarity between father and daughter ended. The rest of the gene pool belonged solely to the child’s mother.

  The baby’s face wasn’t tucked beneath the brain case like a normal child’s, but projected beyond it. Her ears were the shape of miniature jug-handles, and her jaw jutted strongly forward. A soft coat of dark, downy hair covered her head and continued down to the tips of her toes. I stared at an infant not quite human, yet not totally chimpanzee. The baby was an entity entirely of Pierpont’s warped creation.

  “It’s happened.”

  Kitrell’s whisper resounded in my brain.

  “The bastard’s actually gone and done it.”

  The infant whimpered and moved its lips as if it were trying to speak. Scrunching its reddened face, it clenched its hands into puckered fists, and all too-human tears rolled down its plump little cheeks. The cry which emerged was totally unlike any other—yet even this cry needed no translation: the baby wanted its mother.

  “Tell me what I’m looking at.” The words rang strangely in my ears, leaving me unsure I’d even spoken them.

  “That DNA analysis that Pierpont was involved in when he worked for the government?” Kitrell’s voice sounded equally distorted. “Do you know any more about it than you’ve already told me?”

  The conversation with Lizzie felt as though it had taken place a lifetime ago. I forced myself to concentrate on it as I shifted my gaze around the room, wanting to focus anywhere except on what lay before me. But there was no escaping the magnetic pull emanating from inside the metal box. I looked down, and the little girl’s eyes locked onto mine. That’s when Lizzie’s words came flooding back to haunt me with their meaning.

  “Oh, my God—that’s it. Pierpont was identifying those genes specific to humans by sequencing the full DNA of chimps and comparing the two.”

  “There’s your an
swer.” Dan tilted his chin in the baby’s direction. “Pierpont went the extra step—one that he was probably never supposed to take. He created a hybrid by inserting those genes special only to humans inside an ape.”

  I looked at the baby again, and could have sworn F.U. was staring back at me.

  “But how?” I asked, unable to pry my gaze away.

  “Through genetic engineering.” Kitrell’s voice trembled. “Pierpont took a female chimp’s egg, a human male sperm, made those additions to their DNA, and combined them. Then he popped the fertilized egg back into the female’s womb. And just like that, you’ve got yourself a brand new species. I knew something like this could be engineered through cutting-edge science; I just never imagined anyone would be crazy enough to try it.” Kitrell’s jaw tightened as he stared at the baby. “But that’s exactly what Pierpont’s done, using Gracie as both mother and incubator.”

  I was still trying to comprehend why F.U. was involved.

  “All right. So Pierpont gets his kicks out of screwing around with evolution and playing God. But what’s in it for Pierpont’s financial backers?” The urgency I’d felt earlier warned me to get moving.

  Dan lowered his chin and ran a hand through his shaggy hair, as though confounded by the very same question. When he looked back up, his face was flushed with excitement.

  “Of course! What the hell have I been thinking? This all makes perfectly insane sense!”

  Kitrell began to pace back and forth. “Scientists claim their quest to produce better vaccines and antidotes is hampered because they can’t test on human beings from start to finish.”

  “So what are you getting at?” I impatiently prodded, knowing there was no time to waste. The longer we were here, the more likely we’d be caught.

  Dan’s pace grew faster. “A drug which works on a mouse can be a dud when finally tested on humans, after years of research and millions of dollars. The creation of a hybrid would provide them with something much closer to man to test on, but there’s always been a silent agreement that such a deed would be horrific. Now this bastard has thrown all ethics to the wind and done it!”

  A further implication suddenly hit me like a battering ram. “Oh, God! There’s even more to it than that. Pierpont’s engineered an entirely new species. Do you know what that means?”

  Kitrell stopped pacing and looked at me blankly.

  “A hybrid doesn’t fall under the Endangered Species Act.”

  Dan’s gaze revealed he still didn’t understand.

  My words began to fly fast and furious, aware that time was slipping past. “There’s no protection in place for Gracie’s baby! Pierpont could raise an entire colony of these hybrids for gruesome tests, or even use them as slave labor. And until a law is enacted to regulate the trade, every hybrid like this will be at Alphagen’s mercy. Pierpont’s opened up a Pandora’s box with mind-boggling implications!”

  Kitrell’s thoughts flew as swiftly as my own. “That’s not all—you can bet Pierpont plans to impregnate this baby when she comes of age. That way, her offspring will be even genetically closer to man. Once he finally creates the ideal hybrid for optimum testing, he’ll then clone the creature.”

  “And since they aren’t listed as endangered species, the critters can be shipped to research labs all over the world. Pierpont’s a Dr. Frankenstein!” My internal clock screamed that time was running out. We had to get out of here now.

  The baby cried again inside its crib, wanting what every infant craves. To lay fast asleep in her mother’s arms, being loved and held and protected. She was no more aware of what awaited her than any other newborn babe.

  “We can’t leave her here,” I firmly stated.

  “I never intended to,” Dan agreed. “That’s Gracie’s baby. I’m taking her with me.”

  I still wanted to check the second floor and make sure Pierpont didn’t have anything else locked away, but a glance at my watch told me that Sonny would be calling the police any minute. We needed to be off the Flying A ranch before they arrived and stumbled upon our discovery. Once news of Gracie’s baby spread, she’d never escape probing scientists and the freak show circuit. We had to keep her existence a secret.

  “We’re going to have to split up in order to finish,” I told Kitrell.

  He quickly agreed. “You check the other floor while I load all the chimps into the van.”

  I turned to head out, only to feel Dan’s fingers wrap around my arm like a tourniquet.

  “Be careful, Porter,” he warned. “If either of us if found, it’s all over. Pierpont’s not about to let us leave after what we’ve seen.”

  Kitrell wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know.

  Eighteen

  My paper slippers brushed along the floor toward the elevator as if of their own accord. Stepping inside, I pressed the button for Level 2. I arrived all too quickly, causing my heart to divide and multiply. Thousands of miniature tickers flew into my veins, pumping blood in my ears and in my throat. It drummed in each finger and in between my toes. In contrast, a heavy web of silence loomed outside, waiting to pounce on me.

  I left the safety of my mechanical cocoon and approached the first room. I listened to make sure no one was there, peeked inside, then slipped through the door.

  The small office looked ordinary at first, with a miniature replica of Rodin’s “The Thinker” on the desktop. Then I noticed that in place of a man’s head was that of an ape. The desk was pristinely neat, and a mini stainless steel refrigerator stood nearby. The room was as sterile as the mausoleum I’d just left.

  I sat down and flicked on the computer. A prompt appeared, demanding the password. No problemo, I smugly thought, and typed in Cupcake.

  An animated prosthetic hook emerged on each side of the screen and they scuttled toward one another in a mating dance, only to devour the word Cupcake. The two claws next formed a pair of crossbones, and underneath appeared the message, Entrance Denied. Call it a lucky guess, but I was willing to bet this was Martin Pierpont’s office.

  Since the computer wouldn’t cooperate, I decided to try the desk. I dragged out my pocket-tool, and jimmied open the drawer.

  Inside lay a thin stack of papers begging to be examined. I quickly rifled through them, and the logo for Panfauna Associates caught my eye. In my grip was the delivery receipt for four juvenile chimpanzees shipped to Mexico from Burundi. A notation on the bottom stated the arrival of several more chimps could be expected shortly.

  I scurried deeper inside the drawer, and my fingers hit upon several square pieces of hard plastic. I’d discovered four zip disks, labeled “Hybrid Experiment,” “Antidotes,” “Viruses,” and “Clones.” This was the mother of all motherlodes.

  I scooped up all four disks along with Panfauna’s receipt, and next checked out Pierpont’s mini-fridge. Inside were a few sealed jars containing what appeared to be a milkshake. Pierpont’s version of a protein drink? I walked back to the door, peered into the hall, then stepped outside. I’d take a quick look around the rest of the floor, then double-time it out of here.

  I was halfway down the corridor when I heard the sound of someone approaching around the corner. Dashing for the nearest room, I ducked inside, and held my breath as the footsteps drew steadily closer. Only when they receded did I crack the door and peek. A balding man in a lab coat had passed by. Shush, shush, shush. The harsh cotton of his coat seemed to scold like a stern librarian. The warning was clear: employees were beginning to show up for work.

  The room I’d taken refuge in was the size of a large walk-in closet. On second thought, what it really resembled was a bunker. Along with some empty lockers, there were six rows of metal shelves. Those held light-weight tangerine Tyvek suits, double-layered latex gloves, rubber boots, and goggles. Next to the shelves was a sign instructing that all clothing must be removed before putting on protective garments.

  Nearby hung two varieties of masks. One was a transparent, full face respirator complete w
ith two purple virus filters. The other, a flexible Racal hood, slipped over one’s head and shoulders to snap snugly inside the suit. Next to it was a respirator pack that was to be attached to the Tyvek suit.

  Shivers marched up my spine like an invading unit of soldiers as I realized the bunker was actually a foyer, with a thick metal door standing guard at the other end of the room. And on that door was a warning: Caution—Respirators must be worn beyond this point at all times.

  Pierpont was up to something even more menacing than what we’d already uncovered. I glanced back at the Tyvek suits, the gloves and the masks. Now I knew why ventilation pipes had been hidden inside a water tank: it was to conceal a Biosafety Level Four Hot Lab.

  There are some diseases so horrific that no cure has yet been found for them—ebola, hemorraghic fever, and Marburg disease, to name but a few. Then there are viruses which are further engineered to produce lethal genies in bottles. The disks burned in the palm of my hand as I remembered their labels: “Viruses” and “Antidotes.” Not only was I itching to find out what Pierpont was up to, but he might have a few more chimps locked away in there. If I walked out now, a dire fate undoubtedly awaited them. I had to find out what was behind that steel door.

  I stripped down to my panties and bra, sticking my clothes, my gun, all four disks, and Panfauna’s receipt inside the first locker. Then I slipped inside a Minute Maid colored space suit, pulling on latex gloves while sliding my feet into boots. Hmmm…which hood to don? I just planned to step inside and take a quick look, in which case there was little need to waste time inflating my space suit and snapping on the Racal head cover. I peeled down one glove and glanced at my watch. Five minutes and I was out, no matter what. I grabbed the transparent hood with its two purple respirators and made my way over to the door, feeling like a futuristic soldier outfitted for war.