Murder Genes
Contents
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Murder Genes
By
Mikael Aizen
PUBLISHED BY:
Smashwords
Murder Genes
Copyright 2011 by Mikael Aizen
ISBN:
978-1-4581-5470-5
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Prologue
The Sudanese claims were verified and President Clinton took the offer to hand over Bin Laden. 9-11 never happened.
Gore was elected with the largest financial surplus in US history and money is poured into scientific research.
Behavioral Genetics, a movement that believes a person's behaviors, attractions, and tendencies are coded into genetics is Science’s newest child prodigy--the government’s newest tool in mass propaganda.
The year is 2025.
Chapter 1
A bird that migrates for winter.
Was it born with this instinct? Was it destined to behave this way? Did some single genetic code deep within it force the bird to flap its wings northward and migrate?
Are there similar genetic codes within humans that make our choices for us?
We are no different than the other beasts of Earth. Like all creatures we share the four f's of survival: feed, flight, fight, and reproduce.
There are these, and much, much more.
Behavioral Genetics, my friend. We behave as we were programmed.
-Andre Mollinda, Founder of The Association of Genetic Determinism, 2011 'Letter of Discovery.'
Pa opened the front door. It was 7:00 in the morning and two security men in black everything--boots, belts, vests--stood outside.
"Mr. Nelson?" Kyle heard one say.
Pa glanced back and nudged the door closed. The door bounced on the toe of one man's boot. "Wait for me in the living room," he said.
Kyle hesitated, but he obediently walked around the corner until he was out of sight. Then he cupped an ear to listen.
He couldn't hear much, Pa and the men spoke so quietly, but he did hear the word 'test.' The door closed.
He counted to three before running around the corner. "What was that?" Kyle asked.
Pa frowned. "I have to go to work." His dusty eyes focused as he knelt, handing Kyle the orange he'd been holding. "Something just came up."
Through the panes of the door, Kyle could see the backs of the men, waiting. This wasn't work. The men were Public Security. Kyle took the orange. "What about my school?"
"No school today. I'll be too tired to teach when I get back," Pa replied. His fingers drummed the kitchen table.
"What's going on at work?"
Pa shrugged. "A test," he said.
"What kind of test?"
"Nothing I shouldn't pass."
"It's a blood test, isn't it? For The Code?" Kyle just said it. The obvious part, at least. Pa hadn't said "retest" but Kyle knew it was a retest because the only time Public Security people came to your house wanting you to go with them right away was when your first test was weird. And if it was weird because your blood had The Code in it, you never came back. You went to Murderer City immediately.
Pa shook his head, grinned. "Can’t seem to keep anything from you anymore." Pa ruffled Kyle's hair and bent to a knee. "All right, I'm going. Give me a hug."
"That’s it?"
Pa looked at him. "No use worrying about it. Either I do or I don’t. And chances are I don’t."
The numbers in general were twelve in a hundred thousand. He didn’t know the numbers for retesting. But Pa was right, no use worrying about it.
It didn’t make him worry any less.
Kyle jumped into Pa's hands just long enough to stuff the orange into his father's mouth, still unpeeled. "You aren't a murderer. I can tell."
Pa gave a wry smile. "Thanks, Kyle." Then he bit right into the rind, growling as he spit out the piece and tossed the rest of the orange back to Kyle. He chuckled. "Keep your research to a few hours. If you want to grow tall, you'll have to exercise. Go outside. Try to make some friends with the boys next door or at the very least, play tag with your own shadow. That's what the sun's for," he joked.
His big boots clomped across the floor.
He was wrong about the exercising and growing tall stuff, Kyle had checked. And he always checked the facts. "Hey Pa," Kyle said.
Pa paused.
"Be like a duck."
Pa grinned when he heard the phrase. He claimed that he’d made it up. He hadn't, of course, but Kyle never told him he knew the truth.
"Kick like hell underneath," Pa said back.
It meant that on the surface, you do what have to do, but you always end up wherever your kicking took you.
Then Pa gathered him in a big bear hug. Tight like he'd never let go. Long as any hug Kyle’d ever had.
Pa left with the men.
Kyle ran upstairs to his outdated slate-screen computer. He'd be waiting for Pa to come home.
Jay looked away. The doctor patted his shoulder, bent over his exposed arm. The clinic was small with fake plants everywhere. As if the room was pretending to be a garden. It wasn't cold but he felt his hair rise as the needle edged closer.
As smart as Kyle was for a nine-year old, Jay hadn't told said what was really going on. This was his second testing, a callback testing, a retest. Chances were that there was a mistake with the first test.
But what if there wasn’t?
If he really HAD The Code, Kyle would be taken away by the government child protection agencies and be given up for adoption by some upstanding members of society...if Kyle didn't have The Code either.
He didn’t know much about Murderer City, but he’d heard the rumors. Murderer City wasn’t a place for anybody, criminal, bastard, or murderer. It wasn’t a place to live with others carrying The Code like they said, it was a place to die with them.
The needle went in and blood came out. The doctor smiled kindly before turning with the filled vial and leaving the room.
Jay sat alone. Minutes passed and the silence weighed. He fidgeted uncomfortably and his fists couldn't stop crumpling at the armrest paper. He stood up and paced the room, glanced at the door and tapped on the door handle--it didn't move. He heard a bump on the other side, someone was standing guard.
It made Jay's heart race.
More minutes and Jay wondered if it would just be better to run and hide with Kyle, just to be sure.
Callbacks meant that the
y'd already tested Jay once. It meant they were only making sure he had The Code. It meant that this, right now, was the only chance Jay had to escape. If he had The Code.
Jay took deep breaths. He was panicking.
But damn it. He wasn't going to wait around to see. If he didn't have The Code the worst they could do was slap him on the wrist for running. Jay moved toward the only window of the room when he heard the door click. He spun.
The door was cracked open, unmoving. "What is it, doc?" he asked.
Nothing.
"What's the result? I'm dying here," Jay chuckled, a sick feeling dropped into his gut.
Jay went for the door.
It swung wide before he got there and a man in an armored uniform and dark beady sunglasses stood looking at a form in his hand. The doctor behind him was cowering.
The uniformed man calmly handed the form backwards and lifted a gun from his waist, pointing it at Jay. "Jason Nelson, you're under arrest. Hands on your head. Now."
"You're kidding me," Jay stared at the doctor. The doctor cringed, retreating behind a nearby mini-palm tree. Where was the kind smile now? "You're fucking kidding me!" Jay yelled. "Do it again, you must've done something wrong."
"Hands on your head," the uniformed man repeated.
Kyle would be waiting for Jay. Kyle would be tested next.
Jay charged the uniformed man, screaming at the top of his lungs.
The man pulled the trigger and cold agony rampaged through him. He hit the ground, stiff as a board, unable to move. Seconds later, he gasped.
The man knelt above Jay with a still look. He tapped his gun on Jay's head. "Next time I'll use a bullet." He grunted, pulled Jay to his feet. "Hands on your head."
Jay wanted to fight. Break out in a run. Swing a fist, try something. Anything. His arms still tingled, his leg muscles were cramped.
He didn’t have a choice.
The gun pressed hard into his back. "Where are you taking me?" He had to ask, even though he knew exactly where they were going. Murderer City.
The man prodded him with the gun. "Move."
Jay began walking. The doctor got out from behind the fake tree and spoke. "Thanks Enforcer." He never once looked Jay in the face.
Outside the clinic, a small black car with darkened windows was waiting. Trees shivered, shedding leaves from some frigid breeze's passing. The Enforcer opened the door and motioned with the gun. The chances had been so small, so nearly impossible that he had The Code.
"Get in," the Enforcer ordered.
Seeing the gun pointed at him, he realized he wasn’t really afraid of it, not compared to the car. If he got in, he'd never see Kyle again.
"I WILL shoot if necessary, Mr. Nelson."
Even hidden behind the darkened lenses, Jay knew the Enforcer was serious. This was a job in which he'd surely killed before.
Perhaps he was afraid of the gun after all.
He got into the car.
But as he did, it felt like he was betraying Kyle.
The ride was silent. The Enforcer sat across from him, gun trained on his chest. There was a thick, tinted pane dividing them from whoever drove and Jay felt like he was suspended in a black box, unable to see the world around them.
Like a trapped animal.
The low hum of the car, the Enforcer with the gun, and Jay. On their way to Murderer City in Arizona. When the news began about the construction of the murderer cities throughout the world, this one in particular had garnished heavy attention. Because of its size.
It was massive, large enough to fit a small country inside it.
"What's going to happen to my son?" Jay asked.
No answer.
He tried again. "Just let me know he'll be all right. He doesn't have anyone besides me."
Still, nothing.
They rode in stiff, quiet, hell. Until the Enforcer abruptly spoke. "Who have you killed?"
The question shocked him. "No one. I've never killed anyone."
"Who have you wanted to kill?" The lenses turned and like a mirror, Jay's reflection looked back, accusing. He wanted to tear the lenses off and see the man's eyes.
He hated the accusation. He wasn't a murderer. "No one," he said, spitting a glob onto the seat between them. "How about you? Taking innocent people and destroying their lives? You may as well be murdering them yourself." It was the first he'd voiced it. Most people believed in The Code and this whole genetic thing where you were born a certain way and acted a certain way because of what your genes said. Jay never bought it, but then again, he wasn't an educated man.
The man smirked. The gun wavered and the Enforcer tapped the side of his gun where it clicked. He turned the weapon, handing it handle first to Jay. "Kill me," he said.
Jay stared at the gun. It had to be a trick, but he acted anyway. He snatched the gun and pointed it at the Enforcer, feeling the hard weight in his hands. "What are you playing at?" He glanced at the darkened driver window and lowered the gun beneath the frame.
"Shoot me. Shoot the driver. Go to your son," the Enforcer said, his tiny smile--his smirk became a grin.
Jay would've switched the gun to tase if he knew how to work it. "Tell the driver to pull over."
"No," the Enforcer said.
"Tell the driver to pull over!" His hands shook. He'd never held a gun in his life.
But the Enforcer didn't do anything. Just smile. Jay pointed the gun at the window and pulled the trigger. The violent recoil punched into Jay's neck and he felt a wild thrill as the window exploded into pieces. He hadn't really believed it would be loaded. "PULL OVER!" Jay yelled again.
The Enforcer shrugged. He tapped on the driver's window. The window lowered and Jay darted his eyes back and forth, not certain where to look. "You had your chance," the Enforcer said.
Jay spotted a tiny barrel at top of the window's opening, too late. A dart hit him and in seconds, his vision began closing in.
"It'll be easier this way," the Enforcer's voice soothed. A hand touched him, taking the gun from his limp fingers.
Chapter 2
The Human Genome Project has changed our understanding of genetics and disorders. Researchers have associated genetic basis for physical behaviors including aggression, impulsivity, nurturing. This movement of behavioral genetic determinism has been growing at an untamed rate, I worry about the consequences of this social perception.
-Steven Hothstein, Behavioral Genetic Determinism: Our Culture, Our Future, Biology, 112-116. April, 2012.
Pa should have been home by now. When a strange car pulled up, Kyle knew what had happened. A woman in a grey business suit and a man trailing her like a shadow craned their heads around like they were worried they'd miss something, someone, a kid maybe.
Kyle charged downstairs from his computer and opened the door before they could ring the bell. "Where's my dad?" he demanded.
The woman looked surprised for a second and she bent down, kneeling awkwardly in a half-squat. "Hey there. It's Kyle, right?"
"Yeah. Where's my dad?"
She hesitated. "That's why we're here. Your dad got in some trouble. He wanted us to come get you."
Kyle glanced at the man behind the brown-haired woman. He had short blond hair and he gave Kyle a fake toothy smile. "He had The Code, didn't he?" Kyle said.
She pursed her lips. "Yes. I'm sorry." She hesitated. "Would you tell me...did your father ever hurt you? Yell at you? Hit you?"
Kyle stared at her. Pa had never allowed himself to get angry enough to yell, much less hit. It made no sense. But he dropped his head. "Sometimes," he lied. He knew where these people wanted to take him and he knew where they were taking his father. He couldn't let them take him because Kyle also knew they'd be testing him for The Code soon, too.
If they took him now, he couldn’t try to rescue Pa.
He couldn’t believe it, Pa was being taken to Murderer City. Murderer City was for murderers, not people like Pa.
"Will you come with us?" the woman sai
d. "We're here to find you a new family. A family that's safe for you and one that won't ever hurt you. Doesn't that sound nice?" The way she said it sounded nice, like syrup on poison. Kyle knew that with all the kids split from their parents, there were far more kids than parents willing to adopt. Especially kids with Murder Gene parents.
They'd put Kyle with anyone they could qualify.
Kyle nodded his head. "OK. Let me get some stuff." She seemed puzzled by his casual answer but Kyle smiled at her in a shy manner and she smiled back. "I'll be right back."
He slammed the door closed and locked the smaller lock that didn't make much noise. Then he ran up to his room. He grabbed a backpack and came back downstairs to get as much food as he could from the refrigerator. A loaf of bread, some fruit, a chicken leg, a jar of peanut butter. He paused when he saw a picture of Pa and him playing chess together. Pa had been losing, you could tell by his scowl. Kyle knew it would be dangerous to take it with him if they could use it to identify him, though. He left the picture but took the half peeled orange Pa had given him.
There was a loud knocking on the door. "Kyle?" the woman's voice called. "He locked it," he heard her say.
"I'm coming!" Kyle yelled back. The doorknob jangled. He ducked behind the counter when he saw a shadow peer through the window. He army crawled across the floor and once he was sure he was out of sight, he sprinted back up the stairs back into his room.
If they caught him he'd have no choice where he'd go. He could get stuck with a family he didn't know, or he'd never get a family at all, or get one he hated. He couldn’t let them catch him.
The reality and hopelessness of his mission to rescue Pa was already working its way into his mind. What was he going to do? Find and chase Pa’s car or plane or whatever it was secretly bringing him to Murderer City?
He’d try something, but he needed time and freedom to think about it.
Kyle put on his backpack and climbed out the window, around the sandpaper shingles of the roof until he was above the front door where the woman and man waited. He heard them discussing and the woman called out again. "Kyle?"