De Novo (The Gene Thief Series Book 1 - Short Story)
Read De Novo (The Gene Thief Series Book 1 - Short Story) Online
Authors: Jason Cole
De Novo
The Gene Thief Series
Book 1
By: Jason Cole
Copyright © 2014
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
Click here
to find out about future book releases, giveaways, and other fun stuff.
Feel free to reach out to me directly:
Email:
[email protected]
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/authorjasoncole
~Acknowledgements~
First thanks to Nicole (
www.anobrainart.com
) as always for my stunning covers. Second, shout out to my fellow Kindlingers who always keep me motivated, educated, and on the right path. Last but not least, thanks to my soon to be wife, for tolerating my insatiable ambitions and visions I love you.
Last, last, but certainly not least, shout out to all my fans. Your feedback and support means the world to me and I could not do this without all of you (literally and figuratively).
“Sweetheart, everything’s going to be okay. Any moment the doctors will be back to give us the results. Our baby is fine. Our dreams are about to come to fruition. Hang in there.” Marcus’ voice trembled but he didn’t care. He was consumed with trying to comfort his wife.
They sat in the office at the geneticist’s facility, time itself had seemed to stop. Each of them staring at the door, unable to focus on anything else. All the expensive decor and fish tanks weren’t enough to distract them from what came next. An hour ago, they received a call to go over the results of the gestational genome screen and didn’t know what to expect. Cindy’s fingers frantically tapped her knees, her nerves frayed, she couldn’t contain herself.
Cindy looked over at Marcus, a look of despair painted on her face. She asked, “But what if he’s not okay? What if our baby isn’t healthy? I hear these horror stories all the time. Families dealing with diseases they didn’t know they carried.”
No words would comfort her, so Marcus lowered his head until it rested on her shaking shoulder. They would have to weather the storm for now.
The sound of the doorknob turning grabbed their attention. The doctor came out into the waiting room, any hints of a smile absent from her face. Instead she wore a poorly hidden look of concern and hesitation. This alarmed Marcus and Cindy picked up on the same thing. Cindy’s tapping had worked its way throughout her whole body. Her feet tapped the floor anxiously, her lips pursed, and Marcus sensed her bursting at the seams.
“Doctor, what’s the news?” At his core, Marcus was dying slowly inside. He noticed the distraught look in Cindy’s eyes and realized she needed him more than ever.
The doctor was petite, no more than one hundred ten pounds, small frame and quiet voice. She held a folder tightly against her chest, and in that folder, a piece of paper. That paper held the results and in a petrifying way, the future of their lives. This little woman held an immense power over them at this moment.
The doctor guided them down the hallway and into the consult room. She placed the folder down on the bench top and started to thumb through the pages. It felt like an eternity.
“Marcus, I suggest you take a seat for this.” Her voice had a soothing and comforting tone, but the angst was still palpable. No doctor asked someone to sit down for good news.
“I’m not sure there’s a best way to discuss this with you. Your baby has what we call a de novo mutation.”
“A de..what?” Marcus jumped to his feet and interrupted the doctor. A moment passed, he regrouped, took a deep breath, and sat back down.
“Let me explain. It means that something went haywire in the germ cells, not the inherited genetics from you two.” The doctor had yet to face them, much less make eye contact. She was hiding at her bench top, staring at her papers like a statue. That corner of the room offered her safety from the intense stares behind her. “There hasn’t been a case yet where the child lived past 12 months. The reported cases listed the possible physical symptoms as polydactyly or extra fingers, macrocephaly, a larger head, mental development issues and a few other things.” She paused, “we can get into the finer details another time. It’s not going to be easy guys.”
Marcus fell to his knees beside Cindy, her eyes brimming with tears, his arm wrapped around her. On the outside, he was keeping it together, but it was a hollow façade anyone would see through. No one should have to deal with that sort of news.
“So that’s it. Our child is born into a brief life of suffering and then leaves us, crushed and broken? What kind of bullshit is that?” Marcus was staring at the doctor’s back, his hope dangling by a single thread, knowing that the next few words she uttered might shatter his world.
The doctor slowly turned around and looked at them. Marcus felt his heart stop. They had never seen a doctors eyes tear up.
“I’m so sorry.”
Cindy began to sob.
The doctor struggled to speak, “In this folder, I have a few lists of therapists and other specialists that will be vital as you prepare for what lies ahead.”
Cindy stopped looking at the doctor, her head had drooped and her vision had switched to staring at the floor like a zombie. No signs of life, thought, or emotions lingering. Marcus didn’t feel her presence anymore, it was as if she had already died inside. The little hope that was dwindling, now faded into oblivion at the sight of his wife.
“Is that it? More doctors and therapists? All this technology, and we can’t prevent this kid from living a life without suffering?” Marcus slammed his fist down on the padded bed beside him. The metal underneath rattled. The doctor jumped out of her skin and looked at him. Her eyes were apologetic, and he wanted nothing to do with them.
“Marcus, Cindy. I’ve been with you guys for so long, and I know how strong you can be. At this point, you don’t need to be strong for me or even for yourselves. You need to be strong for your child. Even if it’s only a year or two, you can make it as pain free as possible.”
“Brilliant, thanks a lot Doc,” Marcus said sarcastically.
The doctor slowly walked out of the room and shut the door behind her. The room fell silent, neither of them moved an inch. They sat their silently, waiting to wake up from this nightmare.
Marcus reached over and grabbed the papers, barely able to read the blurry text as tears filled up his eyes. And then something in the back of the folder caught his finger. A much smaller piece of paper was stuck. He quickly shuffled through the contents, flipped it all over and saw the sticky note on the back. The doctor didn’t mention this. On it was a nine digit number. It looked like it was some sort of bank account number, and underneath a scribbled message.
This is a onetime offer. Send the amount listed below to the number above and we will save your child.
Marcus looked on the back of the paper and picked up on a separate number. $150,000. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Should he show Cindy this? What would she think? What if it was just a sick joke, and she got her hopes up for nothing? That might put her over the edge, adding devastation to this grim situation.
Marcus peeled the sticky note off and shoved it into his pocket. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed she was still staring at the floor. The vision of his wife slumped over like a puppet made him consider the option seriously. He had been saving to retire early and surprise her. Based off the slim chance this opportunity was legit, how could he think about retirement?
He put the papers back in order, closed the folder and walked over to her. He placed his hands on her back and sensed the pulse of her twitching muscles beneath her skin. She had become a nervous wreck in seconds, and he had no quick fix. Their only hope rested in his bank account.
What kind of husband hid something this colossal from the person he loved most? Should he ask the doctor? That might blow it. Don’t these people usually say not to involve others?
The answer was clear. Before anyone finds out about his secret savings, he should just go for it. No-brainer. What’s money when an unborn child’s future is on the line?
She saw the sweat dripping from her nose landing on the old wooden floor. Her favorite thing to do was handstand push-ups, one of the few exercises that really made her feel it. Her eyes shifted to her right forearm and fixated on the tattooed number.
3912
When she stared at it too long, it freaked her out. The fact that she didn’t remember how she got it was the worst part of it all. On the other hand, she had become fond of it. That tattoo was one of her only sources of identity - 3912. It was who she was, and it was all she had ever known.
One day she woke up in this empty apartment, nothing but a small TV and couch. Bare bones kitchen, no artwork, and a small mattress in the corner. In her mind, she knew there had to be nicer apartments. Elegantly designed and decorated, brimming with technology. Despite all that, this was home. Over time, this became her haven. A place for rest and recuperation.
Other than the TV, the only other thing that captured her attention was the mounted device inside the wall. It stood out in a dull apartment like this. The images it projected were so detailed and clear. Detailed holographs floating in midair. No idea how it got there, it seemed to serve a singular purpose. Revealing her next mission.
She finally dropped down from her handstand, grabbed an old towel hanging off the arm of the couch, and wiped her face. She threw the towel back, and sat down on a cushion on the floor. She folded her legs inward, a posture she had seen a monk do somewhere. Named after a flower, the lotus or something like that. She closed her eyes and started to drift into the nothingness. A state of being she had grown to love. The simplicity of the room allowed her to appreciate the power of stillness. The universe which existed internally.
Just as the influx of thoughts slowed, she heard it.
Beep. Beep.
This meant one thing. Her next mission was here. She made her way over towards the screen, and six inches away, a document appeared in thin air.
Mission #45.
You are to obtain a gene located in a remote area of the rain forest. We have determined which individual carries the target gene and a picture is attached. Standard operating procedure applies. If the gene is delivered on time, payment will follow. Be nimble, and be invisible.
She always resented the last line. Nimble and invisible, as if it took effort to do so. Not long after she woke up in this apartment did she realize she had this uncanny and innate ability to disappear. It was almost comical how she’d make people question their reality. They would wonder if their eyes were deceiving them. If the small female was there, or if she was just a figment of their imagination. When she was a naïve and immature gene thief she used to pickpocket and steal things from right out in the open, without grabbing a second glance from onlookers. This pastime proved to be the only way she knew how to add some excitement to her life between missions.
At the bottom of the projection, she looked at the danger level. She wasn’t sure what criteria they based this on, but in her experience the numbers were accurate.
It read: 5.5. Not the highest level she’s ever completed, but no walk in the park either.
A normal person would go mad not knowing who pulled the strings from behind the scenes. The one making all of the decisions, providing the necessary supplies, and dictating the next move. It didn’t bother her though. She couldn’t remember anything else. She knew she had a life before this, but nothing concrete to hang on to. No definitive memories to savor.
Besides, the rain forest seemed enchanting. She had never been there and the thought of it intrigued her. Other than the massive amounts of rain and poor conditions, she was excited to explore one more new area of the world. Of all the risks that came with her line of work, at least her job offered a lot of travel opportunities.
Once her luggage was packed, she walked over to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and cracked open a secret compartment on the interior wall. Vial after vial of fluids. Red, green, blue, and other vibrant colors. These vials represented her tools, weapons, and safety. Her lifeline in whatever situations she got herself into.
The only thing as important as her vials was the camera that had been given to her. One quick scan of a drop of blood, and it could sequence an entire human genome. Attached on the top of the camera was another holographic projector which showed her the target gene, its location, and other vital information about the sequence. Things like mutations, recombination events, mosaicism, and anything else that may obscure her target gene.
With her vials and camera by her side, she felt ready for anything. No gene on the planet was beyond her grasp. There was not one that she could not locate, isolate, and vanish with.
She ran her hands over her shaved head, the prickly feeling comforted her. A nervous habit. The idea of another mission was starting to weigh on her. As much as she had grown to enjoy the traveling and exhilarating feeling of it all, the danger was very real. Even with a danger level of 5.5, a quick slip up easily meant not making it back home.
Her mind began to wander, thinking of all the tight spaces, nooks and crannies she stuffed herself into, and every other grim situation she had managed to evade. Grown men chasing her, wild animals hunting for their next meal, and yet here she was. Living, breathing, and getting ready to rinse and repeat.
Not knowing the details always tore her apart. Not knowing whether she helped someone, killed them, or made them rich. Questions which haunted her, day in and day out. Not the near-death situations and close calls, but the end of these missions. The ripples created by her actions. She didn’t know where she got her abilities from, but it felt undeniably natural. For this reason alone, she saw this as her calling. She walked out of the kitchen with her camera along with a handful of brightly colored liquids and stuffed them in a folded up velvet case. Packed everything in her luggage, tapped the X in the top right of the projected image, sat on the couch to look out the window.
Get ready world, here I come.
