Murder Genes Read online

"I Enforce, different from murder."

  "That's a crappy excuse."

  "I'm sorry. Wish I could help you." Paul said.

  Jay could sense the man's edge. Jay spoke. "Survival of the fittest isn't just me, is it?"

  "It's something of a mantra here for those of us left," Paul said.

  'Us' in this case meant Enforcer, then, and their authority only took them so far in Murderer City. "Let me go," Jay said in a low tone.

  "I can't do that."

  "Is it the Chief?"

  Paul said nothing, his hand didn't leave the knife.

  Jay opened his hands to either side. "I'm not going to attack you, Paul. You know that. You saw what happened last time and no matter what you people say, I'm no murderer." Jay took a step closer. The sun reflected from the shades just right and Jay couldn't read Paul's expression.

  "Yes, you are a murderer," Paul said. But something in his poise.

  For Kyle.

  Jay's limbs didn't budge. Move! his mind screamed. Paul's hand hesitated on the weapon.

  Jay slammed his forehead into Paul's face.

  The Enforcer's head snapped back and Jay's hand found the unclipped knife and pulled it free. He bent, barreling into Paul's waist and threw the Enforcer to the ground. He dove toward the man, knife outstretched, stabbing. But Paul's hand came up holding a gun. There was an explosion of sound, impact smashed into Jay's thigh and flipped him head first toward the earth. Knife first.

  It plunged into Paul's throat.

  Blood spurted across Jay's lips, face, and neck. Air bubbled from the space between flesh and blade. Jay pushing himself up, stumbling away. Horrified. His leg gave out beneath him and he collapsed beside the man.

  He lay there beside Paul, listening to the gurgling and suction ease, and stop. Jay's whole body shook. He waited for the feeling, the rise of guilt from his soul.

  He'd killed. He'd murdered.

  "If you have a child, you understand," Jay said to the body. To himself.

  Jay forced himself to inspect his thigh. A gory hole ran straight through Jay's leg, larger through the back. He tied it off, tearing and using a section of the grey uniform they'd given him. It would slow the bleeding until he could find a better solution. Jay threw the uniform away and took Paul's shirt. The Nanotube vest and leggings, the belt with the holster, and the shades, a canister of water--even Paul's boots. The boots were too small. He wore them anyway.

  Lastly, he took Paul's hand, still warm. He used it to grab tight the gun, carefully, making sure not to touch the weapon with his own fingers. Especially the part that glowed red. He put the gun into the holster at his waist.

  But he never threw up. Not like the movies or books where the hero killed their first. But like the villain or the cold killer who'd done it a hundred times before.

  Like a murderer.

  He used a bit of water to rinse his face and looked at the man that had been called Paul, the knife still in his neck. He'd done it in order to survive...

  But perhaps it was true.

  Murder was in the blood.

  He grimaced, gripped the knife, pulled it free. It crunched and scraped as it came out.

  Looks like I belong here, now.

  Chapter 4

  A man born into a family with a long history of violence has voiced the question: "Will my children be violent, too?"

  His doctor discovered that his family carries a defective gene called monoamine oxidase A resulting in the destruction of neurotransmitters that keep us calm and happy.

  Scientists were thrilled.

  -Ellen, Jane. "The Murder Gene." Nature, Aug 1, 2014.

  Kyle was hungry. Hungry enough that even though it was dangerous and he might be discovered, he had no choice but to take the risk.

  Kyle bit his bottom lip as the needle hesitated above his arm. He tried to pull away but the nurse-man squeezed tight, pinning him. "Ow," Kyle whimpered. The needle went in. He howled. "Ow Ow Ow OOow!" As soon as it came out Kyle kicked the man. Right on the shin.

  The nurse-man hissed and dropped the vial filled with Kyle's blood. It shattered on the ground, spilling red on the tile floor of the trailer. "Brat!" nurse-man growled, standing up and grabbing his leg. He pointed a finger at Kyle, still on one leg. "We have to do it again, and this time I'm getting a bigger needle."

  Kyle smirked as the angry man rubbed his leg and opened the trailer door. "Del! I need a twenty-three."

  A woman with strawberry hair poked her head in. "Twenty-three? He's a kid."

  Nurse-man put his lips close to her ear but Kyle could hear the words from where he sat. "He kicked me. I'll bet ten-hundred he's got The Code."

  "Tim! Be nice. He probably kicked you because you deserved it."

  "He hurt me," Kyle chimed in at the perfect time.

  "See? You have to be gentle with kids. How do you expect us to have children if you can't be kind now, much less for the audit?" Del came to Kyle's side and knelt down beside him. "Here, let me." She took his arm gently and in less than a moment, had the glass filled and stoppered. It had hurt, but he liked how it made nurse-man glower.

  "Well, what do you expect with this antiquated equipment? I'm an orthopedic surgeon, trained in Cuba, doing blood rounds in an old 2012 blood donation trailer with NO staff! Bloody hell!" He threw his hands up.

  "Watch your language, Tim." She brushed the band-aid on. "That didn't hurt, did it?" she said to Kyle.

  "No Ma'am," Kyle lied.

  She beamed at Tim. "See, all it takes is a little patience and finesse."

  "Yup!" Kyle nodded. She ruffled his hair and when she turned, Kyle winked at Tim. Tim muttered to himself, stomped from the trailer, slammed the door behind him.

  Del sighed and turned. "I'm sorry, Tim's a proud man. He shouldn't be taking it out on you."

  "No, he shouldn't," Kyle agreed.

  She laughed. "You're adorable. What was your name?"

  "Kyle."

  "Well Kyle, it was good to meet you. But your parents are probably waiting for you outside, why don't you go find them?"

  "Where's my cookie?" Kyle asked. "The sign said that you had free cookies."

  "Outside. Just follow the path where the other kids are waiting." The door squeaked opened again and Tim came through clutching a girl about Kyle's age by the arm.

  "Tim!" Del scolded. "She's a girl, not an animal. Let her walk on her own." She waved at Kyle. "Shoo now, go get your cookie."

  Kyle rushed toward the door, stopping to whisper loudly as he passed the frightened girl. "Have the lady do it. He's not very good at this." He jumped down the steps of the trailer.

  It wasn't hard to find the cookies with every path blocked except to and from the trailer. Around back there was a tent where Kyle showed his band-aid proudly. They let him through. Piles and piles of cookies sat on a rectangular table in the middle of the tent, juice was to the side in big orange coolers with spouts. Other kids, also with band-aides, ate without the urgency that Kyle felt. He rushed over to the cookies and began jabbing as many as he could down his pockets, taking only a second to stuff one into his mouth. He let his over sized shirt drop to cover his escape and he made for the exit.

  "Just one second there, buddy," the man in the grey-white jacket said. He blocked Kyle's path. "Do you have your papers yet?"

  Papers? "I don't need any," Kyle said.

  The man frowned. "Sure you do, everybody does. Where are your parents?"

  Kyle made up a story. "Tim and Del are my parents. They gave me this band-aid so I could get cookies." He lifted his shirt, showing the man his stash. Tim had said that they hadn't any staff while yelling. He bet this man didn't know the two personally.

  The man chuckled. "I see that, young fellow. But I still need to see papers. I'll tell you what, I'll go with you to see your parents and we'll clear everything up." He called another man to cover him and took Kyle by the arm.

  "Ow!" Kyle said loudly.

  "Sorry," the man said, but he didn't loosen his gri
p. Kyle thought frantically but held as he was, there wasn't much he could do. He used his free hand to grab a cookie and began chewing. You never knew when the next meal would be.

  They came back to the trailer door. The man raised a hand to knock but Kyle ran up the steps in front of the man. "You don't need to knock." He pulled open the door and rushed in. The man let his arm go.

  Inside, Tim and Del huddled over the scared girl Kyle had passed earlier. Tim held the needle and Del was speaking. "Slowly now..."

  "Ma!" Kyle exclaimed. He rushed into Del's surprised arms.

  "Kyle?" she asked. "Wha..."

  "I'm sorry to interrupt," the man in the jacket poked his head in. "The boy says he doesn't need papers because he's your son. Says you gave him the band-aid so he could get cookies."

  "What's going on?" Tim began to rise, the point of the needle wavered.

  "Tim! Watch what you're doing." Del stood up and hugged Kyle to her thigh. "...Yes, that's correct. He's our son. Kyle Alexandar."

  "That's fine, but next time let us aides know first. I'm sorry to bother you, I just need to be sure no one slips through the cracks." He ducked his head and backed out.

  "What do you think you're doing, Del?" Tim asked.

  "Quiet. We'll talk after your done with your patient." She knelt, a severe look on her face. But then her hands paused over his pockets. She laughed, it was a happy sound, genuine. "Looks like you got your fill of cookies!"

  Kyle didn't even feel bad. He grabbed another cookie and shoved it in his mouth. He looked at the girl. Tim was putting her band-aid on. She had tears in her eyes. "I told you he's bad at this," Kyle said to her. He offered her a cookie and she smiled shyly as she took it. He felt pretty generous for giving it to her, it could've meant another day of survival in the real world.

  Del escorted the girl out and closed the door behind. "Now Kyle, would you like to explain yourself?" Del asked.

  "Thanks for helping me. But can I go?"

  "Not before you tell me what happened."

  Tim was throwing wrappers away and wiping down equipment. There was an unhappy look on his face. Kyle shrugged. "They wouldn't let me leave."

  "Of course not. Your parents have to give them the papers first."

  "My parents aren't here."

  "What?"

  "I snuck in. There was food here." Kyle licked his lips. Best meal in weeks.

  "Kyle, where are your parents?" Del had that severe look on her face again.

  Kyle hesitated. "Dead." He didn't know how they would respond if they found out that Pa had The Code.

  "Both of them?" Del said it at Kyle, but she was looking at Tim. "How long have you been alone? What happened to your parents?"

  Something inside him wanted to tell Del the truth, but he resisted. It wasn't safe. Except the thought distracted him and his mind stumbled as it was coming up with a lie. Kyle shrugged. "Long time." He didn't answer her other question.

  "Were they murdered?" Tim frowned.

  Kyle shook his head. "...they," he dropped his head so they couldn't see his face. "Mom...got sick and then, ...Pa got sick."

  Del tilted Kyle's chin up so that he was staring right into her silvery eyes. Eyes that looked at him like he imagined his mother would've if she'd been alive. "I can always tell when I'm being lied to." She pursed her lips. "You don't have to lie, Kyle. You're safe. What happened to your parents?"

  Something about the way she said it made him forget about lying. Made him trust her. "Pa had The Code. Mom's been dead since I was young." Kyle blurted.

  "Del!" Tim cut in.

  Del's lips tightened and she gave a firm nod. She grabbed Kyle's arm, and looked at the number on it. "Sixty-six. Find it Tim."

  "Why?"

  "Just do it." Del frowned at Kyle. "Now Kyle, how did you get in here without papers?"

  "Like I said, I snuck in."

  "So you never wrote anything down on any papers?"

  "No. Do I have to?" He pulled his shirt down over his cookies protectively.

  Tim emerged from the back, "Found it."

  Del stood and took the vial from Tim. She uncorked it and poured the blood down the sink.

  "What are you doing?" Tim said horrified, his jaw working. "We'll have to get another sample."

  "No. We won't." Del turned and threw the empty vial to the ground, shattering it. Then she reached for a yellow broom in the corner. "We accidentally dropped a vial, that's all."

  "We have to. If his father had The Code, he could, too."

  "Tim. I know. Shut up." Tim's teeth clacked together. Del finished sweeping up the glass and threw it in a red box with four overlaying circles printed on it. "Look at him, Tim. Kyle's had his father taken away. He's scared and starving. I never wanted to test kids in the first place and I refuse to turn this poor kid in. He probably doesn't even understand why his father's been taken away."

  "I'm ten, not dumb." Well, almost ten. "I know why and I know they wanted me next."

  "Then why'd you come here if you're so smart?" Tim snorted.

  "Tim!"

  "Because I was hungry!" Kyle yelled. "Even if you had my blood I could've run away before you found out." Kyle looked at his feet. "Or at least that was the plan."

  "Well, your plan almost worked," Del said, patting him on the head. Kyle frowned. But when she laughed again he couldn't help but grin back.

  "Del, you know what you’re saying. All medical professionals have to be testing people."

  Del nodded. "I won't test children anymore. We'll go somewhere else, register with another county, or the school nearby where we’ll be exempt. Move. Whatever it takes but no more children."

  Tim sighed. "Then what'll we do with him?" He dipped his head at Kyle.

  Del stared at the ground for a while. When she looked up, she had a determined smile. "How do you feel about adopting? We save the audit process for our own child another time. Does that sound nice, Kyle?"

  Kyle felt the sad part of his chest tug inside. He'd already heard the stories. Dad would never be coming back. Staying with Del would mean food, and he could stop running. Maybe Del knew a way to get in touch with Pa.

  Kyle made his decision.

  He'd only stay for a while. Until he had enough food again and he'd regained his energy and he’d learned what he could. Then he'd return to the road before Tim or Del had second thoughts about testing him. Kyle gave Del a tiny-tiny nod.

  "I always wanted a girl," Tim sighed. "Or at least a nice, well-behaved boy who wasn't possibly a born murderer."

  "You know neither of us really believe that nonsense. Genes don't absolutely determine someone's behavior. We're doctors, Tim."

  "Not all doctors agree. And you...we, are the minority in this."

  "Tim..."

  Tim gave a hard look at Kyle. "If you promise you won't kill me in my sleep, I'll promise to think about it, even if I don't like you."

  Kyle nodded. "I promise. You'll learn to love me." He gave Tim a winning smile and held up two fingers in an ancient symbol. "Peace."

  Chapter 5

  A new genetic sequence, its finding spearheaded by the BGA (Behavioral Genetics Association), has been informally named 'The Code.' Researchers have found an alarming convergence of data associating convicted felons of 1st degree homicide and The Code imprinted within the felon's DNA. This has caused a resurgence in Behavioral Genetic theories, not in small part amongst the homosexual community as they revive the search for the 'gay gene.' While further research is necessary as to discover the propensities and the exact mechanism of The Code to human behavior, this finding has reopened a realm of science that has obvious and frightening implications.

  -Bix, Caleb. "The Code: A Murder Gene?" CNNHealth, Dec 27, 2012, www.cnn.com/Health/10/28/TheCodeMurderGene/index.html.

  Jay put his back to the brick wall and slid down its length, falling to his butt on the floor. He needed to rest. Sweat stung the edge of an eye and he blinked. It didn’t change anything. Everything was midnight dar
k.

  He entered this building to stay hidden from whoever might be haunting the night, but without help he wondered if he could survive. The bleeding had slowed, not stopped, and he didn't know anything about gunshot wounds except the obvious. That if the bleeding didn't stop he'd be dead. All he could do was put more pressure and hope it stilled. Jay re-tied the bloody cloth, pulling hard as he could with shaking arms.

  He rolled to his back, lifting his legs onto the wall. He poured the last of the water in his mouth and tossed aside the canister. Paul must've been a thirsty man before he died, there hadn't been much water left. Jay sighed, closing his eyes, resting. A few minutes passed and it seemed to help but he struggled to stay awake. He was sinking...sleeping.

  He heard a sound like jingling bells. Santa? He came to his feet, swaying. A flashlight's beam touched the floor at the doorway, following a path he hadn't realized he'd left. Bloody footprints. Jay limped around a corner wall, feeling his way along. He had to find a way outside where he would be harder to track.

  The jingling got closer. Jay quickened his steps, working his way around edges blindly. His heart beat rapid, faintly, and though he hurried his pace he realized it would do no good. He'd never escape, not injured and blind as he was. Better to face whoever followed--reindeer or man--boldly, than to be caught fleeing. Jay stopped.

  The flashlight's beam came around and through the doorway, Jay saw that he was cornered. It would have changed nothing if he had continued to run. Black dots speckled in his vision and he leaned into the wall.

  The beam traced his bloody tracks leisurely, stopped at Jay's feet, rose to his face, down his uniform, halted back on his leg.

  "Not looking too good there, Enforcer," a young voice said. The flashlight came back up to Jay's eyes.

  Jay winced, blocking it with an arm. "Put that away."

  It flicked off and steps approached, more than one pair. Jay couldn't tell how many. He peered into the darkness. "Who are you?"

  "You're not supposed to be up this late, it's past your curfew." The voice was taunting. The flashlight clicked on and the light turned on its bearer. The first thing Jay saw was a necklace of teeth strewn together, each flaked in dried blood. The light continued up to a face. Jay half expected to see a scarred or mutilated visage. Instead, he saw a freckled, teenage boy with a confident grin. The light flicked off.