Murder Genes (14 page)

It did now.
 
And he'd assumed right.

Pain.
 
Not guilt or sorrow, but
emotional
pain.
 
A real agony worse than being shot through the teeth.
 
He'd killed a man in cold blood.
 
And now, "I had to" didn't matter any more.
 
Jay knew that he wasn't invisible or in private here, but right this moment, he needed to be alone.
 
He fell to a seat and crossed his legs.
 
To mourn.

"Hey hey hey!
 
What's going on?"
 
A nervous voice jabbered.

Again, God, what gives?
 
Jay didn't lift his head right away.
 
Instead, he sighed and said under his breath.
 
"Leav me alon', will you?"

"Yeah, gotcha boss.
 
But... you're kinda in my way."

Jay looked up.
 
There was a skinny man carrying a very bulky...bazooka?
 
Jay fell backward, his legs and arms out like a dead bug.

The man dropped the bazooka, Jay dodged and it barely missed his head.
 
Jay yelled.
 
Clambering to his feet.

The skinny man twitched and scratched the back of his head.
 
"Sorry," he said.
   

"You mustt be Issak," Jay said.

The man wiped his hands on his jacket, leaving damp lines streaked on the material.
 
"Yes, yes I am.
 
Who are you?"

"Jay."
 
He held out his hand.
 
Issak looked at the hand for a second and as if making a spontaneous decision, shook it.
 
It was still damp.
 
"What'ss that?" Jay asked.
 
Maybe it wasn't a bazooka, maybe it just looked like one.
 
After all, who would carry around a bazooka and drop it?

Issak gave him a strange look.

It IS a bazooka.

Issak waved at the thing.
 
"Would you mind helping me?
 
I'm taking it to the lab."

Jay bent to pick up one side.

"Thanks!" Issak said, leading the way.

Jay picked up the rest of the bazooka by himself.
 
Karah's sewing had done well for his leg.
 
Even shaky and achy, he could feel the strength returning.
 
He followed the man.
 
It was heavy, but not nearly as heavy as he would have suspected.

They walking into a lab, the room that Jay had seen earlier from outside.
 
It was a small room with a few pieces of furniture.
 
Picnic table, lounge chair, pool table.
 
Beakers and glassware sat on the pool table, most with powders and mineral-like sand in them.

"Put it on the table," Issak said.

Jay looked at the table, there wasn't space.

"On the table!"

Jay dropped the bazooka on the table.
 
Glassware broke, sand spilled, it was a mess.

Issak turned on him.
 
And smiled.
 
"My name's Issak.
 
I'm a physicist, chemist, tech guru, psychologist, explosive engineer, and general smart-guy."

Jay looked at the heap on the table.
 
Explosive engineer was the scary one.
 
"Hi," Jay said.

Issak looked disappointed.
 
He put his back to Jay.
 
"What do you want?"

"I don' know."

"Really?
 
REALLY?
 
You're wasting my time because...you don't know why?"
 
Issak whipped his palm at the table.
 
"You come in here and break all my stuff and interrupt my experiments, havoc and chaos, and you don't know why!
 
God save me!
 
At least respect a genius' time."

"You mus't really smart," Jay said in monotone.

Issak brightened.
 
"Yeah I am.
 
Thanks for noticing.
 
Now, how can I help you?"

"I don' know," Jay repeated.
 
The man was a quack.
 
Heavy metal poisoning or something.

"Oh, that's OK.
 
Let's find out." Issak rubbed his hands together.
 
"First, who sent you?"

"Xiaos."

"
General
Xiaos Wayng?"

"...Yeah.
 
Genneral Xiaos."

"Hmmm.
 
You must be new then?"

"Yeaah."
 
Isn't it obvious?

Issak snapped his fingers in success.
 
"I knew it!
 
He must want me to teach you."

"Teech me?"

"Educate you, lecture and enlighten.
 
I do it all the time."
 
Issak took his arm and swept the pool table.
 
He pushed the broken glass and sand into the pocket holes and grunted as he pushed the bazooka straight onto the floor.
 
It hit hard and Jay winced.
 
Dear God he hoped it wasn't loaded.
 
"Let's get started.
 
Sit."
 
Issak pointed at Jay.

Jay walked over to the lounge chair and sat.
 
He leaned back.
 
Issak stopped pointing at him when he did.

"From the beginning, then," Issak said.
 
"The Code is a big lie."

Jay sat up.

"In fact, it's so much a lie, that it's true.
 
Sort of.
 
There is a gene they've found and named, but they named it wrong.
 
The Murder Gene, should be named the 'Instinct Gene'.
 
And everyone has it.
 
Everyone.
 
Except they've tagged one expression of it rather than the other expression.
 
In other words, because everyone has it, you can't actually breed it out or 'Genocide' it out."

God fucking damn.
 
Jay raised his hand.

Issak gave him an annoyed look and kept talking.
 
"In Morir you get four types of sub expression: Murderers, Thrillers, Survivors and Protectors.
 
Within the sub expressions are sub-sub expressions.
 
There are very few people with only the sub expression.
 
The authorities are right, we don't have choice, but they are wrong because the gene they've tagged is not the Murder Gene.
 
You might be a Survivor type by your looks."
 
He raised an eyebrow at Jay's numerous wounds.
 
"So you kill if you're threatened.
 
General Xiaos is a Protector type.
 
He has no choice but to protect other people just as you have no choice but to survive."

"What aboutt the Murderer sub expresssion-type-thinng?"

"What about them?
 
They kill.
 
It makes them happy."

"You said there are veryy few pure sub expresssionss.
 
I could be a Murdererr Survivor."
 
Killing to survive.
 
It'd make sense.

"If when you are threatened, when you have overwhelming stimulus, you perform better, faster and sharper?"

"Yeah.”
 
That's why pain didn't stop him?

"Why are you interrupting me?" Issak said suddenly.

You're telling me my instinct is to kill to survive and no matter what I have no choice.
 
Just like before when they told me I have The Code.
 
I don't have any more choice than I do now.
 
"Just keep going," Jay said.

"The combinations of the four types makes things confusing.
 
For example, a Protector Thrill type would protect someone only because of the feeling it gives them to live on the edge.
 
When they protect someone, behaviorally, they'd wait until the last moment in order to increase the risk and excitement.
 
For them, it's not as much about protection as the excitement of protecting someone.
 
Thrill."

"How doo you know all thiss?"

"I'm a geneticist.
 
And I'm a genius."

You didn't say you were a geneticist the first time.
 
"I'm impresssed," Jay said dryly.
 
As crazy as the man was, his theory made sense.
 
Karah who'd sewn him up was a Survivor then.
 
And Bitch, that boy who liked being chased, would be a Thrill type.
 
"So, iff all the kilers and fihgters are in
here
, and after the Gene War..."

"Exactly," Issak snapped his fingers.
 
"Where's our military?
 
Who's defending us?"
 
He grinned.
 
"Haven't you ever wondered why they built Morir so large?"

Jay opened his mouth.

Issak waved a hand.
 
"Moving on.
 
My theories are my own."

"Bu..."

"Moving on," Issak said again.
 
"Next question."

"Howw about you?
 
What aare you?
 
Your subtype."

"Me?"
 
Issak put a thumb to his chest.
 
"None.
 
The government put me in here because of my theories.
 
They were scared of me."

"So you don't have The Code."

"Nope.
 
It's easy to fake.
 
Remember, everyone's positive, just to what extent and which degree.
 
It changes depending on what concentration of the solvent you use.
 
If things don't go their way, they'll up the 'sensitivity' by increasing the concentration."

Whoa.
 
"Whoo is 'they?'"
 
It sounded like the government, or the UN.
 
But who did Issak think had caused all this?

"The
Church
of course."

"The Chuurch," Jay repeated.

"Yes."

"Kay."

Issak grinned.
 
"Any questions?"

"Plenty."

Issak frowned.
 
He looked at a make-believe watch.
 
"Look!
 
We're out of time.
 
Get out."
 
Issak knocked on a wall, the Onyx hummed and he pointed at Jay as if to someone watching.
 
Half a minute later, the twins came in.

"The duck looks very calm on the surface, but he's kicking under the water.
 
That's the answer," Evo said immediately.

"That's correct," Jay responded, taken aback.

Evo grinned and Ti grimaced, glaring at his brother.
 
"C'mon, let's go," Evo said, leading the way.

Jay watched the two interact.
 
He felt as if he saw the world differently, with a clarity he'd never had.
 
And not only in Morir.
 
How many types of people were there?
 
How much of it was coded and how much of it was choice?
 
How deep did the rabbit hole go?

Chapter 11

During the sentencing phase of the capital trial of Westin vs Stewart, 229 F. 3d 180 (9th Cir. 2040), the Prosecution argued that the attempted murder of four-year old Allice Carmikle should result in a sentence against Westin as if the attack had been successful.
 
The Prosecution stated that with the predispositions associated with The Code within Westin's DNA, the preemptive punishment of an attempted murderer to the full extent of the law would prevent another attempt and thus potentially save a future victim's life.

The Prosecution was struck down.

Within a year, the Defendant escaped and a massive manhunt was launched.
 
Five other lives were taken before his recapture.

-Clemmence, Dan.
 
"Criminal Prevention Laws.
 
The Birth of New Justice."
 
The New York Law Journal
.
 
Vol 92, No. 1, pp 18-24, 2018.

The school bell rang and students trickled in.
 
No one was taking a seat and Kyle felt uncomfortable sitting alone.
 
But he kept watching the door.
 
A few more students entered, some girls glanced at him and giggled.
 
He waved but they turned their backs.

The teacher walked in and locked the door behind her.
 

Callie wasn't in this class then.
 
Kyle sighed.
 
He knew the chances were small that she'd be in his same class, but he couldn't help but hope.
 
Especially since he was in the lower grade than he should be.
 
Del had said he'd fallen behind and needed to be in the younger kids class.
 
For all Kyle knew, Callie didn't even go to this school even though it was the only school in the area.
 
Maybe she was home schooled.
 
Maybe she went to a girl school somewhere else.