Wild (17 page)

After finding and isolating the aging gene, I had experimented with hundreds of possible switches to turn it off. I had tried synthetic as well as organic compounds, from the conventional to the ridiculous.

Nothing was dismissed as impossible before I had tried it. Then finally I had made a breakthrough. The lab worms’ cells didn’t age anymore. I had done it! I had switched off the gene which controlled aging.

I had shown that the worms lived on average almost twice as long as without my switch. I had been so confident I had rushed to animal trials with mice. I had done what nobody before me had done, and what nobody after me had done. I had found the switch. The tests I had performed on the mice’s cells had confirmed it.

The feeling I had felt for days after my data had shown that the mice weren’t aging anymore, was comparable to a constant drug high. I had been so elated I had looked past the behavioral problems the mice seemed to be exhibiting.

I had wanted to go to clinical trials immediately, so the rejection by the Human Subjects Committee at the University had stung. I had accused them of wanting to hold me back. I had been furious. Everybody had started avoiding me after that. I had been a pain to be around. But I was stubborn and young and wouldn’t listen to reason.

That was when I had decided to inject myself. I would show them, I had thought. They would have to concede when I had proven to them that I was right all along.

It didn’t take long until the serum had done its work. I had been in my flat shouting to an employee over the phone, when the rage had overtaken me and started my transformation.

I had stared into the mirror and started seeing the beast in me, its eyes, its claws, its teeth. I had noticed how my body had gotten stronger and my muscles grown larger and I had recognized my mistake instantly. I had remembered the aggressive behavior of the lab mice and knew I had started showing the same characteristics. A beast was growing in me, and the more I saw it come out the more I realized it was a wild animal like a big mountain cat of some sort.

I wasn’t able to reverse it, and I knew controlling it would take all my energy. My life as I knew it was over.  
I wasn’t sure how it had happened, but the only explanation I had was that the switch had to have been contaminated. I started fresh and created an entirely new batch of the switch. When I tried it out on the mice again, the same thing happened and I had to admit that the switch hadn’t been contaminated. I had to accept the fact that the switch didn’t only turn off the aging gene but also turned off something else in the brain and brought back primal animal instincts.

I set out to research the phenomenon. The only thing I could find was some old Native American Indian myths which seemed to suggest every human had an animal within him which provided him with power. If I believed any of the myths, it would mean my switch had unlocked the power animal within me and I couldn’t lock it back in anymore. American Indian spiritual beliefs seemed to accept that power animals represented qualities reflective of the inner self that were needed to enhance daily life. Had I needed to take on the qualities of an animal to deal with the issues that I would face once I had switched off my aging gene? Was this by design?

I was never a particularly spiritual or religious person, and connecting to these beliefs was impossible for me. I was a man of science and there had to be a perfectly valid scientific explanation for it. I devoted my life to finding it.

My decision to torch my lab and disappear was the only thing which had made sense to me at the time. I had to destroy all data so nobody else would get this far and make the same fatal mistake. I hadn’t published my findings yet, which I was grateful for in retrospect.

I had gone into hiding immediately after the lab fire but not before I had saved the crucial data I needed to continue working on a cure. Nobody seemed to miss me. I hadn’t made that many friends.

I had been grateful that my parents never had to find out. Their car had crashed on an icy road in Boston the same year. My father’s insurance money and the sale of their house in Boston had been enough for me to buy the run down warehouse nobody wanted and turn it into my fortress. The remainder provided me with a good income, and my knowledge about medicine helped me invest in pharmaceutical and medical device companies whose shares grew over the years. I didn’t have to worry about anything but finding a cure for my condition.

Despite my relentless work for thirty years I hadn’t gotten any closer to it than when I had first started. The one thing I had however achieved was to get to know the animal within me. I knew my power animal was a mountain lion with tremendous speed, agility and stealth in darkness, a skill I started using once I had discovered it. But the animal was also solitary. Another thirty years of solitude suddenly seemed unacceptable to me.

Now, more than ever, I wished I could be normal again and rid myself of the animal inside of me. Having fallen in love with Annette, and I was truly in love with her, made me want to give everything in exchange for her love and acceptance. But it wasn’t mine to offer that exchange.

My thoughts of Annette distracted me. I stretched out on the couch to rest and collect my thoughts on how to proceed, but her scent which lingered in the fabric didn’t let me.

I knew enough about her to know I had hurt her by keeping the truth from her. But I also realized she was tough and resilient. She wasn’t afraid of wild cats and I knew a thing or two about wilds cats myself.

Maybe once she had cooled down I could go and talk to her to see if I could mend things. My problem was though that I was afraid she would leave for Des Moines before I got a chance.

I counted on Carmela and the curiosity I had detected in her look when she had seen us at the top of Twin Peaks together. Maybe she would keep her long enough to get all the juicy details out of her before she would want her to leave.

Somehow I guessed Annette wasn’t one to kiss and tell, so I hoped it would take a while.

I had to get back to my list. I still had ten possible suspects and no idea where to start.

I tried a different approach. Instead of eliminating anybody else from my list, I had to find out whether anybody had connections with Entwhistle. So I framed a search to find any incidences where the name of the suspect and Entwhistle’s would show up together.

Three of them had been to the same conference as Entwhistle, but it was too recent, only a month ago, certainly long after Entwhistle had started his research on aging.

One suspect was a regular donor to the same charity Entwhistle supported as a member of the board. That was certainly a good enough connection. I highlighted his name.

Another one was a member of the same tennis club as Entwhistle. He was worth being highlighted. However, the connections seemed too casual, too unimportant. I felt like I was missing something.

San Francisco was a small town. Many people knew each other, especially in the medical community. For somebody to give Entwhistle my notes, whether for money or not, there had to be a closer connection.

I just couldn’t see it yet, and it bothered me. I had no time to lose. Entwhistle had to be stopped before he could hurt anybody else. I needed to know how much he knew.

13. Annette’s Skill

Carmela would be back by lunch time. Her new roommate was gone, so I had been on my own and cried until I had no tears left. I had to get it out of my system. I had to get
him
out of my system.

I felt betrayed, but at the same time there had been inconsistencies and warnings I hadn’t taken in. He had said he had wanted me to get to know him better before he went further. Was that just so I would want him even more? What was his little game?

Had he really tried to warn me that he was a thief and an imposter? He surely would be called an imposter if he tried to take credit for research which wasn’t his.

“Have you eaten?” Carmela’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I hadn’t heard her come back.

I shook my head and tried to hide my eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

She sat down next to me on the couch.

“So, what happened with him? Did he dump you?” Subtlety had never been her strong suit.

“No. I left him.”

She was clearly shocked to hear my response.

“Now I really want to hear what happened! Why would you leave somebody like him? I mean, did you actually look at him? He’s a dish!” She babbled on, until she realized I hadn’t answered her. “Did you sleep with him?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t want to.” I said even though I didn’t really want to tell her anything.

“You spent three nights with him and didn’t sleep with him? Is he gay?” She sounded clearly disappointed.

“No, he’s not gay. There’s no way.” Was there? I thought to myself. “No, definitely not.”

Carmela didn’t think so either. “I must say, the way he kissed you when Ben and I saw you, didn’t look gay to me. Why would he not sleep with you? I mean, you’re pretty enough.”  It didn’t even hurt when she said that. I was used to her direct way.

I shrugged my shoulders. “What does it matter now? I’m not with him anymore.” I tried to sound as normal and indifferent as possible, but my voice broke and betrayed me.

“So, what do you want to do now? Are you staying?”

“No, I have to go back to Des Moines. Nothing’s really changed.”

“At least stay a day or two and rest before you go back. You don’t want to show up at your aunt’s the way you look right now.” She pointed at my face. “You might want to avoid her questions.”

She was right. If I showed up at my aunt’s in my current condition, she would give me the third degree. As much as I had often gotten annoyed with Carmela while I had been living with her, she always got to the point fast.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it, Carmela.”

“What are friends for?”

We hadn’t exactly been friends, but it was good to at least have somebody who wanted to help.

“Let’s have some lunch and then we’ll go out and do some window shopping. What do you say?” She suggested cheerfully. She didn’t like people moping around.

“Sounds good.” I forced a smile. She looked at my face.

“You can borrow my make-up. Trust me, dear, you need it.”

Again, her directness should have hurt me, but she meant well. I knew where she kept her make-up and went to the bathroom while I heard her handle some pots in the kitchen.

When I looked into the bathroom mirror, I jerked back and realized what she had meant. The skin around my eyes was red and puffed up as if I had had an allergic reaction. I looked awful. I didn’t want to attract attention to myself, or worse, pity, so I took Carmela’s advice and used her foundation, covered it with powder and then added mascara. I still looked like a scarecrow, but not quite as scary as before.

In the kitchen, Carmela sat a bowl of soup in front of me. I realized I was hungry after all and started eating.

“So, what happened to your leg?”

I still limped and was surprised she had only asked about it now.

“Oh, that.” I played it down.

“Yes, that.” She repeated and waited. “So, spill.”

We had to talk about something rather than just sit and eat in silence.

“I was assaulted the evening I was supposed to get onto the bus.”

She stared at me in shock. “Oh my God! What happened?”

“I was in this dark alley …”

She gave me a disapproving look.

“Well, it was a shortcut,” I defended myself. “And this guy jumps out at me. I think he wanted to rape me. Thank God for my tight jeans! He couldn’t get them off.” I remembered well. “He pulled out a knife though and stabbed me in the leg, before somebody pulled him off me.”

“Vince saved you? That’s how you met him. That’s so romantic.”

“No, no. I don’t know who saved me,” I lied. I wasn’t going to mention the creature to her. “I blacked out. Vince patched me up. He’s a doctor.”

“Oh, so you met him at the ER. Still kind of romantic.”

“Actually I didn’t meet him at the hospital. He patched me up at his house.”

Her mouth fell open. “You are kidding me! And you’re telling me he’s not the one who saved you from that rapist?”

“No, he’s not. He found me after the attack and brought me home to stop the bleeding.” I was sure of that.

“Annette, you’re just as naïve as Lois Lane. Do you know how long it took her to figure out that Clark Kent was Superman? Four movies long!”

“That’s really far fetched.” I knew what I was talking about. I had seen the creature’s eyes and claws and I had stared into Vince’s eyes so many times and felt his hands on my skin. They were nothing like the creature’s.

“You have a very active imagination.”

“Believe what you must, but I’m telling you, I’m right.” She cleared our soup plates and served salad.

“So, a doctor, not bad,” she continued. “What’s his place like?”

“It’s sort of a loft, quite large and open.” I decided to leave out the lab and the lack of windows in order not to give Carmela any more ammunition for her active imagination.

“A loft, wow.” She seemed impressed. “So, he’s handsome, sexy beyond belief, a doctor, obviously with money and you left him, why again?”

I swallowed hard. It wasn’t something I could discuss. “It’s complicated.”

She rolled her eyes.

“He’s not what he seems.”

“No man ever is.” She gave me her usual direct answer. “And trust me, you don’t want somebody you know everything about after the first date. Predictable men are boring. All men have to have a few little secrets.”

I wasn’t too thrilled about his, being a thief and an imposter. Those secrets were just not
little
enough for my liking.

“A little predictability is good,” I insisted. I decided to change the subject. “You and Ben are dating. I thought you were after that guy at work. What was his name?”

“Oh, Sebastian. I tried, but he didn’t seem to get my hints.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Hints? Since when do you just drop hints?” I was surprised she was suddenly doing something subtle.