Project Cyrano: A Genetic Engineering Technothriller (Genetic Engineering, TechnoThriller) Read Free Page A

The number crashed like jagged rocks in his head. He licked his lips. A throbbing started in his ankle. “And.....How many survived?”
     
    “....None.”
     
    Blood rushed to the geneticist’s face. His voice cut the air. “What happened to the bodies? Did they burn them? What were their names? Where were they from?”
     
    Anders shrank away from him. “They didn’t record any names. Just numbers.”
     
    “Just numbers.” McKusick said.
     
    Sosa straightened her back and stared deep into the geneticist’s eyes. A vein in her forehead twitched. “McKusick, you need to go do your work. Mader and I will comb through the facility and find anything we can about the poor wretches who were brought here. We’ll bring the truth to light. This isn’t just about research anymore. This is to satisfy the wrongfully dead.”
     
     

 
    Chapter 3
     
    Operation West 1935
     
    A couple days later, everyone sat down together on blankets spread out in the middle of the glass dome, the center of the base, and a wonderful place to rest after a grueling day of search and research. Stars glittered above their heads. Dim lights cast a soft glow, so as to not overwhelm the natural ambiance. They reclined on the blankets in the manner of ancient people from the Middle East. McKusick preferred this because he was sick of sitting in a chair. Anders took it upon himself to be the cook, and he took the task of opening sealed packages dreadfully seriously.
     
    Anders handed Mader his meal, a swarthy assortment of black beans, black rice, and pumpernickel bread. He patted him on the shoulder. “You need to get some rest, Mader. Your face looks a little peaked.”
     
    He offered a weak smile. “It’s hot in here, don’t you think?”
     
    “No, I think that’s just you.” McKusick said. “Anders says it’s been 74 degrees for two hundred years. We don’t even use the blankets to sleep.”
     
    Mader blinked and wiped beads of sweat from his brow.
     
    Sosa scooted over to him. “Are you feeling alright? Do you have a fever?”
     
    “I just feel a little light-headed.” Mader waved off Sosa’s concern. “I should go to bed.” He tried to get up, but his knees gave out, and he fell like a sack of potatoes. Anders and Sosa rushed to catch him. The soldier screamed and howled. His body tensed until only his shoulders and feet were still on the ground. Sosa shouted for McKusick to help them, but Mader flung them off like paper dolls.
     
    Mader scrambled across the floor to the wall, leaving a trail of sweat behind him. His back and shoulder muscles rippled and contracted with uneven, intense pulses underneath his suit.
     
    Sosa dashed over to the medical pack for a sedative and when she returned but seconds later, Mader was gone.
     
    Anders pointed down a hall. “He took off, Sosa. So fast I couldn’t even shout. McKusick was right next to him, but he couldn’t catch him. I don’t know what I just saw.”
     
    “You saw the effects of a genetic change.” McKusick said. “Anders!”
     
    The computer programmer snapped to attention. “Sir?”
     
    “I need your blood sample.”
     
    Sosa said, “Finding Mader is more important than blood samples, McKusick.”
     
    The geneticist’s fingers clenched into tight fists. “I need to make a cure for this, Sosa, or we’re all going to end up like him. It’ll take five seconds to get samples and then our beloved programmer can get back to his computers, but I need that blood.”
     
    He took a needle fitted with an evacuated tube system and drew five, 3 mL vials of blood for analysis. Then the geneticist disappeared into his laboratory without saying a word.
     
    Sosa’s shoulders trembled. She turned to Anders, who flinched. “Get that life detection system working. Now. Ignore the quarantine. Find Mader.”
     
    Sosa went to an empty room, what used to be an office, and closed the door. She set her tablet up on the desk. “Catalina Sosa, Agent TRJ29R. Calling CIA