Predator (12 page)

It’s amazing how strong they got since you injected them with the DNA,” Bree said to her dad as she leaned closer. “They’re like twice the size of the other males.”

“The females have also nearly doubled their muscle strength. But did you notice the behavior change? These are more aggressive. There’s no doubt about it.”

“The last time they went at it like this they didn’t stop until they were exhausted,” she said. “That was just a few hours ago, and look at them now.”

“The aggression only appears after provocation, I’ve noticed, like when one of the males goes after the other’s food.”

“So who started it this time?” Bree asked. “Louie or Zach?”

Her dad raised his eyebrows. “I wish you’d stop calling them by those names. It’s really not a good idea to get too attached to your test subjects.”

“Whatever. It’s just easier to remember who’s who, that’s all.” Bree looked to where the control mice, two males and two females, slept together in their respective cages. They never fought over food or wrestled like the altered mice.

Bree heard a squeal and turned to Louie and Zach; they were now in a heated fight. Next door, in a separate cage, Sue and Dina were also going at it. “Dad, look at this. Their teeth and claws are much longer and sharper than those of the control group, but they’re relying on their strength to dominate instead of killing each other. Why is that?”

Her dad squatted so he was eye level with the cage and watched the mice for a long moment before answering. “I think you may be right. It’s obvious that when the lycanthrope DNA altered the bodies, it made the mice more aggressive, but maybe there’s no reason for savagery if there’s no real threat. They know they’ll get enough food for all of them even if they fight over it, though that would make a good experiment. We could see if they’d fight to the death if there wasn’t enough food. Find out if they’d turn against one another or if they’d share.”

The pitch of Bree’s voice rose. “You want to kill them?”

“See what I mean? You’re too attached. You’re either a scientist, Bree, or an animal lover.”

“There’s no reason I can’t be both.”

“Not in the lab. Here you have to be a scientist first. What you are outside of the lab is up to you.”

Bree wanted to tell him it wasn’t true, that she could be everything she was both inside and outside the lab, but it was only a feeling. She didn’t know how to defend it on her dad’s terms, so she said nothing.

“I set up a maze and a racetrack,” her dad said. “I want to test the genetically altered mice against one another and then against the control mice. See who’s faster and who can navigate better. Why don’t you put your ‘friends’—” He exaggerated the word—“into smaller cages and I’ll get the control group.”

Bree reached for one of the clear plastic cages on the side table. She set it next to the larger cage and unsnapped the grated steel lids. At the sound, Louie and Zach froze. Bree wondered what they thought. Was she just a giant who fed and watered them? Did they recognize her?

Slowly, she slid her hand inside the cage and let it linger for a few moments—palm up, fingers tightly together—so the mice didn’t feel threatened. Louie released his grip on Zach, scurried over, and sniffed Bree’s fingers. At first, she remained still. Then she gently grasped the skin behind the back of his head and guided Louie toward her open palm. After a few seconds Louie climbed onto her hand. She stroked him a few times before cupping him and removing him from the cage. It wasn’t the swiftest of methods, but it worked, and the mice were used to it. But how much longer could she control them?

What if they turned against her too?

***

The racetrack occupied a good portion of the floor and was constructed with two six-foot-long pieces of wooden board laid out end to end. A long board down the middle separated the racetracks. At the far end were two globs of crunchy peanut butter, one to entice each mouse.

“So how are we going to do this?” Bree said, eyeing the track.

“Systematically.”

Of course
, she thought.
Did he do things any other way?
“I mean, where do you want to start?”

“Let’s start with your friend Zach,” her dad said with a wink and a smile. “I’ll get a male control mouse to race him.”

They placed the mice at the starting lines. When her dad said, “Go,” Bree lifted the sliding wall that released the mice into the maze. Zach bolted toward the peanut butter, his strong muscles easily carrying his oversized body. The control mouse ran toward the peanut butter too, but compared to Zach’s performance it was like watching a race in slow motion.

Her dad checked the stopwatch and logged the times. “That’s impressive. Zach was more than twice as fast as the control mouse. I didn’t think it would be that much of a difference.”

Bree nodded, but she wasn’t too surprised, not after watching them fight like they did.

They ran each of the mice through a trial. A second trial confirmed the results: the genetically altered mice beat the control mice, whether they raced males or females.

Bree said, “Let’s see what happens when the modified females race the control males.”

“That’s not systematic. You’d be comparing apples to oranges.”

“But I’m curious.”

Her dad flushed with pride. “Maybe we’ll run that test another day when the mice are fresh just to see what happens. Right now I want to test the maze.”

“It looks pretty complicated,” Bree said. “You think they’ll be able to figure it out?”

He sized up the maze, an elaborate set of corridors and dead ends with only one path leading to the finish. “Usually we start them with something simple, but I have a strong hunch about these mice and their capabilities. Get me control mouse 1A52.”

Bree located the mouse with the correct ear tag. “I’ve got her.”

“Great. Give her a whiff of this.” He held out a spoon of peanut butter. “Once I place the peanut butter at the end of the maze, put her in on my mark.”

When her dad was ready, he said, “Now.” Bree released the mouse, and her dad started the stopwatch. After three minutes, the mouse still hadn’t found her way through the maze.

Her dad said, “Just as I expected.”

Bree looked at him with her eyebrows drawn together. “Then why bother?”

“To test my theory. If I’m correct, the test mice will blow through the maze in no time. I bet they have heightened senses too. Start with 2A52 to keep the sexes consistent.”

Bree brought Sue out of the cage. Instead of remaining still in Bree’s hand as she had in the past, Sue sniffed Bree’s fingers like crazy, which was odd, because Bree hadn’t handled any of the peanut butter.

“You better get a grip on her before I give her a whiff of the peanut butter,” her dad said. “I don’t want her jumping onto me. With those muscles, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

What if Sue freaked and tried to bite her? Bree watched the mouse for a moment and then said, “What if she doesn’t like me holding her?”

“Put her back in the cage and grab the work gloves. She won’t be able to break through the fabric. Or I can do it if you want. It’s up to you.”

“I can handle it,” Bree said. “It’s just a mouse.”

“A mouse that’s stronger than most.”

Bree ignored his comment, refusing to let him think she couldn’t handle a mouse, and placed Sue back inside the cage. “I’m all set,” she said, returning with the gloves on.

“Great. Let’s do this then.”

Bree removed Sue from the cage, but instead of struggling, the mouse remained completely still, like an opossum playing dead. Was Sue baiting her? Waiting for the right moment to attack? Bree was fascinated: what was going on in that puny mouse brain?

A quick sniff of peanut butter and then Sue was in the maze. The mouse scurried to the end of the first corridor, turned the corner, hit the next straightaway, and cut right. No hesitation. No time to think. Just pure animal instinct. A quick left and then Sue raced down the next straightaway fast and hard. She smashed headfirst through one wall and again through the wall after that, as if the thick wood was paper thin. Chucks of wood flew everywhere. Sue ran straight to the peanut butter, which she ate readily.

“Oh my God,” Bree said.

Her dad grinned. “Incredible. Through two pieces of half-inch-thick wood…” He scrutinized the mouse while she ate, as if expecting her to fly or talk or perform some other amazing stunt, but Sue was only interested in the peanut butter.

“They’re like super mice,” Bree said with a smile. “All they need are capes and their fur dyed with the letter ‘S,’ and they can save the world.”

“From the cats maybe.” Her dad shook his head. “I still can’t believe it. Not only are they strong, but they have super enhanced senses, and possibly increased intelligence. I don’t know if it was her sense of smell that told her the peanut butter was on the other side of the walls or how she figured out how to avoid going through the maze. We’d better get her back in her cage. I don’t want to lose her if she decides to make a run for it. Those outer walls on the maze aren’t much thicker. Give her some more peanut butter to keep her busy. And bring the jar with you.”

Bree returned with the peanut butter and gave some to Sue. “What happens if they get too strong for their cages?”

“That’s a good point. I didn’t think about it, but I guess I should.” His eyes settled on the mouse. “After what we’ve seen here, I wouldn’t be surprised if the mice found a way to get through the plastic, although it might be difficult without a running start. I’ll have to look into getting metal cages just in case. Give me your gloves.”

Once he had gloves on, he took the peanut butter from Bree, placed some in his palm, set his hand down next to the mouse, and waited for Sue to climb aboard. When she did, he moved her slow and steady; Sue didn’t seem to notice until he set her into the cage, just as she finished the last bite of peanut butter.

“I didn’t want to put her in too soon,” he said. “The other mouse would go after the peanut butter, and she wouldn’t trust me anymore. Better to take things slowly than to risk a problem.” He snapped the lid on the cage. “I knew finding lycanthrope DNA was significant, really significant, but this? I never thought it was possible…I mean what are the odds? Yet here we are. I’ve waited all my life for something like this to happen. All those trips, all that research, and now it’s here, and I’m not dreaming. It’s just
so
amazing.”

“So, what’s next?”

“Let’s put the mice back in their regular cages and get some dinner. I’m starving.”

Bree laughed. “I mean after that?”

“We could catch a movie if you want.”

“I mean with the mice.”

He gave her a steady look. “Right now, we’re creating strong mice, but we don’t know if it will lead to fixing the wound repair serum.”

“If it does, does that mean that future generations could self-heal, and wouldn’t that lead to a change in all humans? Forever?”

“It shouldn’t. We’re only modifying genes in the body cells, not changing functional genes in the sperm or egg. In our case, we have to see if the genetic changes lead to degradation.”

“Meaning what?”

“That it would hurt rather than help over time.”

Sunderland Home, East Milmore, Virginia

The credits rolled, and Bree shut off the DVD player and the TV. She could see why Liam loved
Gone in Sixty Seconds
so much—he had to if he had already watched it a half dozen times—but seeing it once was enough for her. Although she loved all the action, she would have preferred something less intense, maybe a drama or a comedy. She removed the DVD from the player, put it back into the case, and set it on the coffee table in front of Liam so he didn’t forget to take it when he left. Then she snuggled against him on the sofa.

He wrapped his arm around her. “I’m so happy I’m here. I still can’t believe my ma let us come.”

“I like your mom. Maybe I’ll get to see her again someday.” One morning on her way to school Bree had said goodbye to her own mom—and then never saw her again. Eighth grade was a big blur after that—a messed up jumble of raw emotion.

“She’d enjoy that.” Liam leaned forward and kissed the side of Bree’s neck, sending a shiver across her skin and distracting her from her thoughts.

She drew in a short breath and turned so she faced him. Liam’s lips met hers; he tasted like strawberries. Bree closed her eyes, wanting the kiss to last forever. It was like she was gliding above the clouds where nothing else mattered—only Liam and how he made her feel.

The refrigerator door slammed. Bree and Liam jumped, and Bree pulled away. With her breaths coming quickly, she said, “I forgot he was home.” A smile lit her face, and Liam chuckled.

“At least he didn’t walk in on us,” Liam said.

Bree nodded. She caught sight of her dad as he passed the room with a drink in hand. “He’s so busy with his work, I don’t think he even noticed we were here.”

“Speaking of work,” Liam said, “how’s it going?”

“Good.” Bree felt awful she couldn’t share the details with him. “I really wish you were working with me in the lab like we were back in Ireland.”

He took her hand. “It’s okay. I understand. Besides, it’s not like I’m across the world anymore. We still get to see each other.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same.”

“No, but your research is important.”

She leaned into him. “What if they come after us?”

Liam wrapped his arm around her and said, “The Benandanti?”

“Who knows how many are out there.”

“They’ve managed to hide all these years. They obviously don’t want to be found.”

“They didn’t want the hand to be found either,” Bree said. “But it was.”

“Yeah, but they think they destroyed the DNA when they burned the hand, right?”

Bree looked into his eyes. “Maybe…I don’t know.”

“Whatever happens,” Liam said. “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

She nodded. Although she wanted to believe Liam, she wasn’t so sure.

The Pentagon, Arlington, Virginia: One Week Later