The Immortal Gene Read online

  Since the Hydra had an unlimited lifespan, Fortech Industries entered into the science behind aging in their endeavor to create a Hydra Man. They had already increased the lifespan of aging mice by over thirty percent using something called DNA Methylation.

  He flipped several pages ahead as the reading became heavier, more tedious, and stopped on a section called Telomeres. The length of a person’s telomeres represented a human’s biological clock. Two pages later, Jake read about a gene called Forehead Box 03, (FOX03) which was commonly found in humans living to the age of one hundred or older.

  He glanced up as something disturbed the usual undulation of the night’s insects. Jake stared at the wall of black at the limit of the fire’s light. He held his breath and listened. After several moments, the crickets started up again and others followed. Within seconds, the usual din was back.

  “Milton?” Jake whispered, his own voice startling him somewhat. “Was that you guys?”

  When no answer came, he set Luke’s journal on the ground and got to his feet. A quick examination of the rectangular clearing revealed nothing. Whatever had broken the evening’s calm didn’t seem to be predatory. Just to be safe, Jake pushed his way a couple of feet into the tree line and found a five-foot branch within minutes. After returning to the air mattress by the fire, he pulled a small knife from the backpack and carved the end of the stick into a point. Satisfied with his boy-scout skills, he placed the newly-fashioned spear in front of him and eased back onto the mattress. After listening to the surrounding area and watching the fire for a few moments, he retrieved the journal and opened it to the final pages.

  Instead of experimenting on mice, Fortech Industries had developed what they called the Immortal Gene, loosely based on their Hydra Man theory, and tested it on Adam, their first subject. Fortech was working outside FDA regulations by having the American-owned firm in Canada, north of Toronto. Some loophole, some form of diplomatic immunity afforded them carte blanche on all testing of any sort of drug on any subject they wanted, human included. According to Luke’s notes, they were acting on their own in an illegal capacity and he wouldn’t continue to be a part of it.

  With Fortech’s willing volunteers, Luke recorded half a dozen men who had taken the latest version of the Immortal Gene. As of his latest writing, the scientists at Fortech Industries weren’t offering conclusive studies on the success or failure of the regeneration capacities, nor were they releasing any data on whether the Immortal Gene actually worked.

  Jake rubbed his eyes and considered calling it a night. Eduardo and Milton would be up with the sun and would come to wake him.

  He flipped to the last page in the journal, still trying to absorb what Luke was involved in. The ramifications for humanity were immense. The ability to arrest aging was a staggering feat. What happened if several hundred—no, thousands—of people were able to utilize this Immortal Gene? How would the earth sustain the perpetual lifespan of individual human beings? Would those injected be able to procreate? If so, would their offspring be gifted with the gene? People would soon be asking potential spouses if they would die one day or live forever. Couples would want to mate with only gene-related others. The ramifications were massive to the point where every road led Jake to conclude that death itself was necessary. If seven billion people on earth weren’t dead in one hundred years, leaving room for another batch of people to populate it, the world would be overrun. In theory, the Immortal Gene was a wonderful scientific breakthrough. But in reality, humanity would die of starvation due to overpopulation.

  On the last page of the journal, Luke had concluded exactly that. He had been sent to the Amazon Rainforest to test the Immortal Gene on a predator. They specifically wanted him to locate a bothrops asper and inject it with the Immortal Gene. On his trip, his companion, a professional snake handler, was to meet him in Manaus.

  Jake closed the journal. He yawned, stretched his tired muscles, then rested his head as the fire slowly died.

  If Luke had come out to this area to locate a snake, where was he now? What happened to his team, the snake handler?

  Something moved in the bush again, startling Jake out of his thoughts. It was time to retire. He wasn’t afraid of the bogeyman. He wasn’t intimidated by things that went bump in the night. As a cop, Jake had seen only manmade horror. That didn’t stop him from a fear of the unknown and the rainforest was an unknown.

  Once on his feet, he kicked dirt onto the fire then stepped away to urinate in a nearby bush. At the opening of the tent, he dragged the air mattress back inside, crawled in after it, and then closed the tent’s zipper. Once it was secure, Jake lay down by feel, then placed a hand behind his head. With the other hand, he felt his front pocket to make sure he still had the whistle.

  He thought about Cindy and what she must be thinking. He hadn’t gotten a hold of her since leaving Ontario. She had no idea where he was and neither did his partner. As soon as he was back in Manaus he’d contact them.

  His mind turned back to Luke and what he must have been dealing with at Fortech Industries, not to mention the ramifications of something like an Immortal Gene. Maybe the green liquid on the makeshift table was a sample of the Hydra Man Immortal Gene substance. Luke’s research intentions of locating a dangerous viper explained why he had the antivenin with him, but it didn’t explain why one of the ampoules was missing. That was probably why the basecamp had been deserted—they would’ve had to race back to their boat to take the bite victim to the hospital.

  He sat up in the dark. That would explain the missing boat from the inlet. That had to be it. He snapped his fingers.

  Something moved close to the tent in response to his snap. The sound of the rainforest’s insects had stopped again. Absolute silence descended upon the area. The only sound Jake discerned was the beating of his own heart. Not sure what to expect, he eased the tiny whistle from his pocket and placed it in his mouth.

  Then he waited.

  Something moved again. Much closer than before—right outside the thin canvas wall of the tent.

  What the fuck?

  Should he blow the whistle? What would he tell the tour guys when they arrived and nothing was wrong? That he was afraid of things that go bump in the night?

  While the night remained silent around him, he took a mental inventory of the tent. In his mind’s eye he saw the air mattress. On the left, he saw the makeshift table with the glass containers filled with green liquids.

  Whatever was outside moved again. It sounded like the thing was trying to be stealthy. Was it a predator? Would Milton and Eduardo leave him alone out here if the odds of attack were high? Didn’t the Amazon Rainforest have jaguars and tigers? He regretted not researching what he was getting into. Although, on the other hand, if he’d known too much, maybe he would’ve avoided coming.

  The flashlight.

  It hit him like a wave smacking into a retainer wall. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Luke had left a flashlight at the base of the makeshift table.

  Whatever was outside was close. His guts knotted. Jake rolled slowly and touched the floor of the tent. Leaning farther, he moved forward by feel, searching for the flashlight or a leg of the table.

  The whistle firmly stuck between his teeth, he breathed in and out slowly, rolling off the mattress and onto the canvas floor.

  Something touched his ankle and he nearly jumped out of his skin. A grunt escaped his lips and the whistle fell from his mouth, lost to the dark.

  He kicked with his feet in a frantic gesture to dislodge whatever was in the tent with him, but nothing was there. Had he bumped himself? Was it only his imagination freaking him out?

  He imagined the jokes his coworkers would have if they saw him now. They would never let him live it down.

  Whatever touched his ankle had to be in his imagination. The zipper was secure. He was alone in the tent.

  But it wasn’t always secure.

  “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

 
When he’d been reading Luke’s journal, he’d left the zipper up, the tent wide open. Then he’d entered the tent in the dark.

  His heartbeat doubled. Sweat broke out on his forehead. What if whatever had been tracking him was inside the tent with him?

  Something moved. It was close. Too close.

  He spun around and smacked the back of his hand into the base of the table. Lunging to the right, he knocked the cylindrical flashlight tube over.

  Something touched his leg again. This time he was certain. The pressure was unmistakable.

  In a panic, he snatched up the flashlight, thumbed the button halfway along its outer casing, and produced glorious light.

  Something hissed in the half a second it took him to spin the flashlight toward his feet and the zippered door beyond.

  The thick body of a coiled snake near the entrance to the tent stared back at him, its eyes reflecting the light.

  Jake jerked away and bumped into the small table hard, its brittle wooden leg cracking in his ear. The table slanted downward, the bottles on top sliding toward him.

  The snake shot forward, its powerful jaws snapping inches from Jake’s chin.

  “Fuck—” he yelled, but was cut off as the bottle of green liquid smashed into his chest.

  The fluid shot into his face.

  His eyes and mouth drenched, he gasped and began spitting, curling his body farther away from the snake near the door while he wiped at his eyes. The liquid stung like a wicked sunburn. Unable to avoid it, he swallowed several times to clear his mouth.

  “What the fuck?” he gasped out loud.

  The whistle.

  His legs under him, he shone the flashlight at the floor and located the whistle by the pillow area of the air mattress.

  One look at the snake, then back to the whistle was enough to determine he could reach it in time.

  He shot forward, clutched the whistle, then jerked back as the snake made a feeble attempt to bite him again.

  The damn thing had to be as afraid of him as he was of it. And the powerful flashlight in its face, blinding it, might be enough to stave off a serious attack. But if this was one of those ultimate pit viper snakes, he didn’t know how long he had until it actually sank its teeth into him.

  The whistle now back between his lips, Jake blew hard and long. The whistle emitted a high-pitched shrill that startled the snake into lunging forward again. Jake snapped back until he was curled at the back wall of the tent.

  Rip the canvas.

  Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He didn’t have to use the door of the tent when he could cut an opening in the back. But with what? The knife was out by the remnants of the fire. He’d last used it to fashion a spear tip on his branch, which was also out by the diminished fire.

  Distant thunder pounded toward him. Footsteps.

  “Jake,” Milton shouted. “You okay?”

  Afraid to yell back and startle the snake, Jake waited. While he waited, his guides’ footfalls drawing closer, something was happening to his skin where that liquid had landed on him. His mouth tasted like an old orange. The air smelled citrusy, like someone had recently applied cleaning products to a tile floor.

  Milton stopped outside. “Jake?” He was panting. “You in there?”

  “Yeah,” Jake said. “Got a snake with me.”

  “There a reason you chose to try to sleep with a snake?”

  “Funny.”

  “You bit?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay, Eduardo is about to open the zipper. How close is the snake?”

  “Right at the door.”

  “What kind of snake is it?”

  “No idea. Don’t know that sort of thing. I can tell you it’s not a cobra, but that’s it.”

  “Does it have a dark brown head and a pale yellow underside?”

  Jake adjusted the flashlight to see it better. “Yes. Looks like it.”

  “Okay. That might be a pit viper.”

  “Oh shit. What are the odds, eh?”

  “We’re going to act like it is, okay?”

  “Sure.” Jake kept his voice even, slightly above a whisper. “Sounds great.”

  “They are an excitable breed, unpredictable when disturbed.”

  “Why is it in my tent?”

  “These pit vipers are often found near human habitations. They’re exactly the breed your friend was looking for, hence the vials of antivenin. So if you do get bit, we happen to be in luck.”

  “Glad you’re feeling lucky.”

  “One more point,” Milton said. “Before Eduardo opens the zipper, use something to cover yourself.”

  “I have nothing in here with me. Wait. Cover myself? Why?”

  “Can you use the air mattress?”

  “I’m half on it, half off. I move, it lunges at me. Why is that important?”

  “Because the bothrops asper, if that’s what it is, doesn’t just bite. They’re known for spitting their venom.”

  “Spitting?”

  Milton and Eduardo moved outside the tent. Light shone through the walls. The snake turned to the left, then faced Jake again, fixing his eyes on him.

  “They can eject venom over a distance of up to six feet,” Milton added.

  “What? Get me out of here. And kill that light. It’s bothered by it.”

  The light outside the tent died. Jake aimed his flashlight at the snake’s face. Its body moved, uncoiling slightly.

  “It’s doing something,” Jake whispered.

  “Hold on, Jake. We have an idea. Eduardo is going to slice the tent open at the back, on the opposite side of the zippered door.”

  “Do it. Now.”

  The sound of a knife entering the fabric was soft and smooth. Jake swallowed, the taste of oranges in his throat.

  The snake grew more agitated as the knife worked its way down the wall.

  “We still good in there?” Milton asked.

  “Yeah. Just hurry.”

  The snake moved again. This time it raised its head to knee height. He had to be trying to see what was causing the new noise. Trapped as it was inside the tent, the snake was ready to attack, and more viciously than before. Its tongue flickered in and out rapidly, testing the air.

  Jake begged the snake to wait a little longer.

  “What’s that smell, Jake?” Milton asked.

  “I spilled a bottle of green liquid.”

  “Oh. Shit.”

  The knife stopped moving.

  “Come on out, Jake. There’s a door behind you now.”

  When he moved his foot an inch, the snake jolted.

  Jake stopped moving. Then tried again.

  “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “I move. It moves.”

  “Can you just dive out?”

  “I’m aimed at the hole, head first.”

  “Find a way, Jake. Just get out here.”

  “Working on it.”

  He moved ever so slowly until his legs were curled under him. After adjusting his weight onto his right side, he edged bodily away from the pit viper.

  The snake had had enough. It decided to attack.

  The small head shot forward with more force than before, trails of venom firing from its mouth. The viper’s speed was incredible, the venom hitting Jake in the face before he had a chance to close his eyes or mouth. It hit the back of his throat and he gagged on reflex, swallowing.

  Primal instinct kicked in. Jake scrambled out of the tent and launched himself into Milton before he realized what he was doing. Blinded by the venom, choking, Jake dropped to the dirt floor and tried to blink his eyes clear, then rubbed them vigorously. He saw snatches of stars above him as he focused on getting his breathing back under control.

  Milton and Eduardo seemed busy with something else. He wanted to call out to them to finish what they were doing and help him, but couldn’t. The pain started slowly. It rose in his throat, on his cheeks, in his eyes. Liquid—he hoped it was tears and not blood�
��leaked from his eyes. Something was moving beneath him, vibrating. Then he realized it was his own body, shuddering in the rising wave of torment. They were at least a six-hour walk to the boat and a two-hour boat ride back to Manaus. If the antivenin didn’t work, he would probably die. As the pain increased to agony, his thoughts turned to Cindy and the missed opportunities.

  Then Milton appeared above him, a syringe in his hand.

  “Jake, you got venom in the face. Eduardo killed it and identified it. You can thank your friend Luke later. We’re going to inject the antivenin into you now. You’re going to be just fine.”

  Jake tried to nod, shuddering, then moaned as the shuddering turned to what felt like contortions.

  “It’ll subside soon,” Milton said through the fog of pain. “The antivenin is in your bloodstream.”

  Something changed. The air, the atmosphere. His heart rate tripled. His lungs starved for air. Then his body began to shut down.

  From far off, he thought he heard Milton say something like he had never seen that kind of reaction before.

  On his last deep breath, he roared a primal scream. He was under attack from within. The pain was beyond intense and paralyzing as seizures started in what felt like his every muscle.

  A flashlight crossed his vision. One of the men shouted something to him, but the lights for Jake Wood were dimming.

  Then they turned off altogether.

  Part Two

  The Snake

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Being cold had never felt like this. It was a comforting cold, like entering an air-conditioned clubhouse after a hot day of golf. He sensed, more than felt, the bedsheets on him, the room, a window emitting light to his right, the sun’s heat on his skin. He took in the entire room without opening his eyes, remaining calm, breathing the room in.

  Two people had come and gone recently. A woman. A man. The woman more frequently. He was unaware how he knew this. A sense, maybe? A feeling? Without an explanation, his mind wandered over the smells, the sensations of the room, enjoying the sun’s warmth on his chilled body.

  Rhythmic steps approached the room, vibrating minutely, muffled by a wall. As the person drew closer, the vibrations increased subtly. Until finally, the person—he deduced female by the softness of her footfalls—stopped at his door and turned the handle.