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“I know enough to know that people should have a choice, and that they shouldn’t be unwittingly experimented on.”

“Even when the results can far outweigh the risks?”

“Why don’t you ask Belinda that? Oh, I forgot, you can’t. You killed her. Is that the result you’re on about?” She shook her head in disgust before the guard boosted her into the back of a canvas-covered troop carrier. For a moment she thought she saw a look of remorse on Adam’s face, but then it was gone, replaced with a steely-eyed determination as he was forced into the truck.

She couldn’t believe he had changed so much. To think she had even kissed him. But it had all been a sham. He was just meant to pacify her for Moon’s experiment.

As the truck moved through the village, Adam looked down at his feet and refused to look up, even when Chase tried to engage him in conversation. The two guards rode silent shotgun, their guns drawn, fingers tensed on hair triggers.

Through a flap in the back of the truck, Chase could see they had entered the fog, the truck driver navigating an unerring path through the mist. She absently wondered how he could see, but then she realised they must have special devices that allowed them to see where they were going. The ride was bumpy and the truck emitted clouds of diesel smoke, causing her to wonder how a soldier survived the ride, never mind the battle. The truck stopped once and Chase heard the driver talking to someone before a soldier peered over the tailgate into the back of the truck. She noticed that the soldier had some form of goggles pulled up onto the top of his head. Letting the flap drop back, he shouted something incoherent to the driver and the vehicle started moving again.

After about ten minutes, the truck stopped again. One of the guards dropped the tailgate and the canvas cover was thrown back so they could exit. Without being prompted, Chase dropped to the ground.

They were in a clearing, surrounded by low buildings and she looked around, wondering how the hell she had got herself into this mess. The fog was evident, but patchy, and an alarm was ringing with a forlorn, lost sound that reverberated between the buildings. People dashed around, seemingly oblivious to the truck and its occupants. Perhaps Moon’s men had overstretched themselves? More and more things were occurring which made her think they had become complacent. The experiment was falling apart around them. With the alarm ringing, and the panic and confusion, she thought it must resemble
Jericho
before the walls fell, the alarm representing the trumpet that sounded the death knell.

She only hoped she didn’t fall with it.

CHAPTER 27

Nigel Moon sat in his office surrounded by research papers. He could feel the start of a headache, and he wished someone would turn that damn alarm off. His life’s work was hanging in the balance, and he was damned if he was going to give it up without a fight.

Drake stood before him wearing an impervious mask of indifference. “What do I pay you for?” Moon asked, keeping his tone of voice calmer than he felt.

“Security.”

 
“Security.” Moon nodded. “Now can you kindly explain to me how two small children have escaped? And it’s not as if this is the first time it’s happened is it.” He was referring to Mat.

“We never anticipated taking prisoners, so we don’t have a proper holding cell.”

“And that’s your excuse. For god’s sake man, are you incompetent as well as stupid?” Moon was pleased to see a nervous tick afflict Drake’s left eye. For all his bravado and macho bullshit, he knew Drake would toe the line. He was being paid too well to rock the boat – and Moon’s powerful aura defied anyone to challenge him.

“It won’t happen again.”

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.” He narrowed his eyes and scowled. “And have you found the cause of that blasted alarm?”

Drake coughed to clear his throat. “Someone’s sabotaged the generator.”

“I already know that, now tell me something I
don’t
know.”

Drake looked up at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “No, I mean a second generator.”

Moon stood up so quickly that Drake took an inadvertent step back. “
Another
generator.
Where
?”

“In the compound.”

Moon swept a pile of documents off the desk. “I’m surrounded by fools and amateurs,” he bellowed, his cheeks flushed. “As if I haven’t got enough problems to deal with. Is it them?”

“Them?” Drake frowned.

“The children.”

Drake shrugged.

“Give me strength. I expect you to deal with the problem at once.
And
I want those generator’s back up and running, immediately.”

“Well, there’s a problem with that.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Moon narrowed his eyes. “And what is this problem?”

“The main circuits are fried. We’ve got to get replacements, and it’ll take a few days.”

“No, it’ll take a few hours, do I make myself clear.”

Drake opened his mouth to speak, but Moon interrupted him.

“Think very carefully before you reply, Mr Drake.”

Drake swallowed. “I’ll get on to it right away.”

Moon smiled. “Make sure you do. And I think we can kill the alarm now, don’t you. Also, find those children before they do any more damage. Use the dogs.”

Drake visibly shivered.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Drake shook his head.

“Well, get on with it then.” He watched Drake leave the room before sitting back down. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. He was too close to his objective to have it interrupted by a couple of kids. He had to admit that things hadn’t been going according to plan, but now Chase had changed all that. He hoped she was the key he had been searching for. No, she
was
the key he had been searching for, otherwise it was all in vain. That’s why it was now so important that she came to term.

There were always bleeding hearts ready to condemn his work, saying that he was playing at being God. But didn’t they realise he wasn’t playing, he
was
a God. He had the power to alter life.

The preliminary enzyme tests on lab rats and monkeys had been encouraging enough to go ahead with the human field trials. The top brass had not offered any objections. Most of them were old and they knew that if the experiment was successful, it would work in their favour. They all wanted their health and youth back, but if the shit hit the fan, they would deny all knowledge of the program. That was their way: disassociation. There had been a couple of dissenting voices, but they had been silenced, permanently.

The animal tests had been abandoned after the human trials began, and the first plant crops had been left to grow wild. They would have to be destroyed eventually, but that could wait. The new crops were growing in a sterile facility in a secret location. With accelerated growth, they didn’t have to wait years to harvest the results.

The alarm suddenly stopped ringing and Moon exhaled a sigh of relief. Now that he had Chase, it was time to start winding down the operation in
Paradise
. He had enough data and on the whole, the results had been encouraging. He knew that, to an extent, his food worked. It just needed the creases ironing out. Although Mat now showed symptoms of psychotic behaviour, he hadn’t been as badly affected when he impregnated Chase. That had all changed now though, after Moon had used him as a guinea pig for another unsuccessful batch, which he thought, might have reversed the problem. As there were normally two genes controlling a trait, one from each parent, Moon hoped that Chase’s baby would inherit the stronger traits. The result in the child would depend on whether the gene was recessive or dominant, and Moon hoped that Mat’s previous mild, psychotic trait was going to be inhibited by Chase’s genes. It was a fifty-fifty gamble. If it was successful, she wouldn’t give birth to a baby, she would give birth to a pharmacy. Moon smiled. Everything would be all right. He could feel it. Leaning back, he interlinked his fingers behind his head, closed his eyes and enjoyed the silence.

***

Ratty’s
only plan of action now was to get out of the fog and get home. But which way? It all looked the same. He was sure that they had already passed certain trees, but he didn’t mention it. Besides, he could be mistaken. Didn’t all trees look the same? But they didn’t all look like witches on broomsticks like the lightning scarred one they were leaning against. He had already seen it once; he remembered being momentarily scared by its peculiar shape as it loomed out of the mist.

As Ratty stood contemplating a course of action, a low growl emanated from the fog. His eyes went wide, alert. Panic coursed through his veins as the sound grew menacingly closer.

“What’s that?”
Izzy
asked, her body tensed as the growls got closer and louder.

Ratty couldn’t answer because he didn’t know. As the fog eddied and swirled, it took him a moment to spot anything. Then he saw them, coming out of a depression, four figures and three dogs straining at the leash.

“Quick, come on.” He grabbed
Izzy’s
hand and dragged her in the opposite direction, running for all they were worth. But the men and their dogs were getting closer, the dogs growls growing steadily louder. But something about the growls didn’t sound quite right.

Ratty dodged around a tree, only to accidentally catch his foot on a distended root and stumble. He let go of
Izzy’s
hand as he fell into a mulch of leaves. And then the growls were in his face, and for the first time in his life, Ratty wet himself. The smell of rotting flesh washed over him, and he looked up into the salivating maw of a disfigured beast. Although definitely canine, probably Doberman pinscher, it was also something more. Its teeth-lined muzzle seemed impossibly elongated. Ratty couldn’t quite place it, but as the dog opened its maw to snarl, he was reminded of a crocodile. Rows of teeth disappeared down its throat, which made its growl more ragged. Whatever they had done to the dog, it was now an abomination, a genetic freak, engineered to be a terrifying killing machine. It was a case of purpose over aesthetics.

The creature strained against the leash, it’s powerfully muscled body quivering. The man holding it struggled to keep it under control.

“I would suggest that you don’t move.”

Ratty recognised Drake’s voice.

“Ratty, what’s going on?”
Izzy
squealed.

“It’s okay,
Izzy
. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be all right.”

Drake laughed. “Take them away and get those blasted beasts under control.”

Someone manhandled Ratty upright. He had trouble seeing
Izzy
clearly, but he could hear her crying and he couldn’t help feeling that it was his fault she was crying. If he hadn’t insisted on staying, perhaps they could have escaped; perhaps they could have convinced someone that
something
was going on. Now he would never know.

“I’ll take the girl.” Drake’s voice sounded hollow, dispassionate.

Izzy
screamed.

Ratty struggled against his captor. “If you lay one hand on her, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Drake snarled.

“I mean it,” Ratty said, full of gusto.

“Get him out of here,” Drake commanded.

Ratty kicked and fought but it was no good. The last thing he heard was
Izzy
screaming.