The brain cells associated with primordial survival
instincts were manipulated and altered by a single session of DNA therapy.
Along with the addiction, altered DNA making a soldier incapable of
surrendering to an enemy or suicide was uploaded into each of the four hunted
Marines. In spite of efforts by each soldier, they couldn’t suppress the urge
to feed or succumb to the guilt associated with the killing of innocent women.
They were incapable of ending their own lives. They were told the effects of
the genetic mutations were irreversible.
He finished digging the shallow grave and returned to
the gruesome scene inside the house. Wrapping his victim carefully in a white
sheet, Richard carried her out to the shack. He gently laid her in the fresh
grave and quietly said a prayer. He asked for forgiveness for what he had done.
He also asked God to take him and send him deep into Hell where he belonged.
After the prayer, he placed the bucket he had filled with her blood at her
feet, and began shoveling dirt over her body. He made quick work of the chore
and returned to the house to clean his killing room. He wasn’t worried about
leaving evidence behind proving he was a murderer. Richard simply didn’t want
any reminders of what he did…again.
As with Peter Arrington, Richard’s keen senses were
dulled while engrossed in his bloodlust. During the phase, his ability to sense
the presence of the other genetically altered Marines was greatly reduced. When
he finally felt the tingling sensation alerting him to the unexpected visitor,
the Marine almost invisible in his black camouflage had his gun sights dialed
in to the space between Richard Elliot’s eyes.
“Thank you, God,” whispered Richard less than a second
before the large caliber bullet penetrated his skull, answering his prayer.
Alex picked up the shell casing as he waited for Colonel
Brown to answer his phone. “It’s done, sir.”
“
Excellent work, Marine. Is the girl there?”
“I waited for him to finish burying her with the
others.”
“
Good. God rest their poor souls. Stage the scene and
get out of there quickly. I’ll give you a few minutes before I notify Scott
Wilson. He’ll be bringing the feds, so it has to look like the real thing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you picking up anything on the location of Derek
or Joshua?”
“
Nothing yet. I still have the feeling they’re
together, but I can’t seem to nail down their location. When I arrived, I
sensed they’d been here recently, but I have no idea where they went after. I
don’t know how they’re doing it, but they’re getting better at covering their
tracks. They seem to be much stronger than the others.”
“Don’t worry about it, son. We’ll let the FBI figure
out where they are. Get yourself back up here as soon as possible.”
*****
“Michelle, it’s been almost three days,” said Ryan,
stretching in his chair. “Please tell me you have something.”
“I do,” she said, entering the room. “Trying to work
under the radar and without Bureau resources is a pain in the ass.”
“I know,” said Ryan, trying not to show his frustration.
“So what did you find out?”
“The two goons in Baltimore that tried to take Kristina
are contract security employees for the Michaels Lab. The company is called Safeguards
and the lab is their only contract. All of them are ex-military or police and
all are handled by Colonel Marcus Brown. The two guys you and Dallas put in the
dumpster were Army Intelligence prior to taking the civilian job.”
“No surprise there,” said Ryan. “Any luck on tracing
their last phone call?”
“They must know the same guy you do,” answered Michelle.
“I can tell you which cell towers the call hit in Maryland, but the number on
the other side is untraceable.”
“Shit,” sighed Ryan. “We’ve been in New Orleans four
days, and all we know about the other players is that they’re connected to the
lab.” He stood and walked around the table covered in folders and photos. “Are
the guys on their way back?”
“They should be here shortly,” said Michelle. “They left
the bayou over an hour ago. In the last message I received from Dallas, he was
whining about the mosquitoes. Tom’s probably ready to shoot him.”
“Are we any closer to finding a lead on Elliot?” asked
Ryan.
“Tom said he put together a decent profile from the
folks he talked with around his home town. He believes we need to start
canvassing some of the closed off areas near the levees. They’re still
basically ghost towns, and Elliot is very familiar with the Lower Ninth Ward. He
spent a few summers with his uncle who owned a business and a couple of houses
down there before the flood.”
“That makes sense,” said Ryan. “We’ll head out there in
the morning. Have you been over to check on Kristina?”
“I told the team watching her to let me know if she
needed anything, but they haven’t called. Do you want me to go over there?”
“No, I’ll go. Besides, I’m sure Dallas would rather be
greeted by you after his long trip instead of me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Michelle, cocking
her head.
“You guys crack me up,” said Ryan, walking out of the
room. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Ryan called the team watching over Kristina to alert
them he was heading their way. The group of professionals scanned the area to
make sure nobody was tailing Ryan as he approached. He used the back door to
avoid the illumination of the street lamp exposing the front yard. He was
surprised to see his old friend who owned the security company sitting at the
kitchen table.
“Hey, Steve,” greeted Ryan. “What brings you out here
and away from your big house on the river?”
“Making sure my guys impress the feds,” said Steve
Kramer. “It’s not every day I get to watch your back, Ryan.”
“Once again, I can’t thank you enough for your help. I
don’t know too many people who would send a jet to me in the middle of the
night with no explanation, not to mention handing over one of your rental
properties to hide a fugitive.”
“Well, luckily, you only need to know one,” said Steve.
“You pulled my ass out of the fire once or twice when we were overseas, so no
need to thank me. How are things on your end?”
“Confusing,” answered Ryan. “I’m no closer to finding
Elliot than I was when we arrived. I still don’t know if my boss is a mole and
I’m currently harboring a fugitive. Other than that, things are going well.”
“You’ll work it out, buddy. Let me know if I can help in
any of those areas.”
“You’re doing plenty. Besides, you’re harboring a
fugitive as well. Speaking of which, how’s she doing?”
“All she has really asked for are books. She has her
nose buried in one just about every time I see her. I have to admit she’s
handling everything very well. She always greets me and my guys with a bright
smile and pleasant conversation. I also have to admit she’s very easy on the
eyes.”
“No argument there,” said Ryan. “I’m going to check in
on her. Is she in her room?”
“Yep. Reading.”
Ryan walked upstairs and lightly knocked on her door.
Kristina greeted him with one of her bright smiles. He silently agreed with
Steve again. She was very easy on the eyes.
“Ryan, how are you?”
“I’m supposed to be asking you that question.”
“I’m doing okay. Please, come in and have a seat.”
“I don’t want to interrupt your reading.”
“At this point, any interruption is welcomed.”
“So really, how are you doing?” asked Ryan.
“Really, I’m okay,” she said, sitting on the corner of
the bed. “I mean, going outside and feeling sunshine on my face would be nice,
but I understand that’s not a good idea.”
“I think that can be arranged. I’m sorry we’ve had to
keep you in lockdown these past few days. Until I work out a couple of issues,
it really is safer for you in here.”
“The isolation is a bit unnerving, but I can handle it.
Are you any closer to finding Richard?”
“We have a few places we’re going to look over tomorrow
morning. Tom and Dallas have spent the last couple of days walking through
alligator infested swamps talking to his friends and family. We’ll find him
soon.”
“I hope you do,” said Kristina without a smile. “I can’t
get the images of those girls from the files out of my head. Knowing three more
might meet the same fate breaks my heart. I just wish I knew why.”
“I’m working on that, too” said Ryan. “That’s the
question keeping me up at night.”
“I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you,” she
said with a disarming tone, “Not being able to trust anyone while you’re
looking for those answers. And knowing if you don’t find them, more people
could die. That’s an incredible amount of pressure.”
“I need to know what happened to them,” said Ryan,
leaning forward in his chair. “It should be impossible for me to look at them
as victims, but I can’t help feeling in some way they are. I simply can’t
accept they woke up one day wanting to be serial killers. How is that
possible?”
Kristina sat for a moment looking at Ryan who had his
eyes turned down to the floor. She knew he had risked a great deal to find her
in the hopes of getting those answers. She decided it was time to give them.
She decided to trust him.
“Not only is it possible, but probable,” said Kristina,
immediately grabbing his attention.
“Probable?”
“I told you one of the reasons why I left the Didache
Project was because Colonel Brown was pressuring us to bypass the rules. There
was another reason.”
“Please continue,” said Ryan. “Anything would help at
this point.”
“When I was asked to participate in the project, it was
a scientist’s dream come true. The Michaels Lab has unlimited funding and is on
the cutting edge of genetic research. They’re able to pick and choose the
brightest minds in the field. That was the lure. After I accepted the position,
I quickly discovered the reason why they had unlimited funding. They were under
contract by the U.S. military to genetically enhance a soldier’s ability in the
field. The lab had several departments that actually did research in other
areas, but the military side, the Didache Project, was their bread and butter.”
“That doesn’t sound very sinister,” said Ryan. “In fact,
I can support efforts to make soldiers more capable in combat. If I had a squad
of Arringtons, more of my men may have survived the war.”
“I agree with you,” said Kristina. “I’m not opposed to
making them faster, stronger, or even bulletproof. I’m not a bleeding heart
liberal who believes all wars can be avoided by diplomatic intervention. What I
am opposed to is genetically altering their behavior.”
“You’re going to have to dumb that one down for me.
Genetically altered behavior?”
“How many of the men and women came back from the Gulf
Wars clinically diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Most of those
diagnosed never saw a day of combat or even fired their weapon at the enemy.
They suffered from PTSD because of what they saw and felt. They didn’t know how
to cope with the horrific images stamped into their memories of the aftermath.
The burning bodies hanging out of tanks or laying on the side of the road. The
women and children caught in the crossfire smoldering in each others’ arms. Do
you remember a course at the academy that taught you how to deal with those
situations?”
“No,” said Ryan. “I don’t think anything can prepare you
for those moments.”
“But more importantly to the fat cats sitting thousands
of miles away, what was the total cost of having to treat those soldiers with
PTSD once it was recognized as a clinical illness?”
“My guess would be billions in treatment as well as a
ton of lost man hours,” offered Ryan.
“Exactly, billions for just PTSD,” acknowledged
Kristina. “Now, add the cost of all the psychological disorders recognized as a
result of soldiers going into combat. And not only the diagnosed disorders, but
the undiagnosed disorders. How many men did you know that suffered from
depression, separation anxiety, loneliness, guilt, remorse, doubt, or even
anger? How many did you know nearly paralyzed by fear? All those emotional
factors are commonplace for the average soldier. All those emotional factors
make a soldier less effective in the field.
“We were working on making them physically stronger as
warriors. Colonel Brown wanted us to work on making them mentally stronger as
well. And not just mentally stronger, but incapable of suffering from those
common emotional stresses associated with being human.”
“He wanted you to build the perfect killing machines,” said
Ryan. “A fearless warrior.”
“No offense to your Marine background, but that’s what
every branch tries to do starting on the first day of boot camp,” continued
Kristina. “They want to tear you down emotionally and physically so they can
rebuild and mold you into a killing machine that won’t hesitate in combat. But
they also want to build servicemen and women who will follow orders from above
without question or doubt. Imagine if they could accomplish that goal every
single time with just one session of gene therapy.”
“It would be a very valuable pill,” said Ryan.
“That’s an understatement,” said Kristina. “It wouldn’t
be as easy as giving them a pill, but you’re in the ballpark. All that would be
needed is a sample of their DNA. We’d then introduce the altered DNA in the
form of a virus that would target specific cells in the brain that are linked
to specific behaviors. The transformation would start within hours and be
completed within two weeks.”
“How close were you to creating it?”
“Uncomfortably close for me. I left the program a few
weeks before the first round of trials.”
“Human trials?”
“No,” clarified Kristina. “We start the process on
computer models. We had several programs designed to mimic human DNA and the
reactions to any modifications. Once the models showed the desired result, we
would upload the modified DNA into pigs. Believe it or not, they have the
closest anatomy to a human of any animal, including primates.”