No Time to Die (11 page)

Before she could contemplate what she might say, she dialed the number and held her breath. After three rings, she started to exhale. Another ring passed. She pulled the phone away, about to hang up, when she heard an old man's voice.

“Hello?”

She clutched the phone to her ear. “Hi there! Is this Silas?”

“Speaking. Who's this?” He sounded tired, and she realized how late she was calling.

“I'm”—she faltered, thinking of the
Post
article—“I'm a biogerontologist who'd very much like to meet Zoe. I'm so sorry if I woke you.”

“Not at all.” His voice perked up. “How'd you get my cell? No one except my family knows it.”

“Well, I . . . saw her files. You were her emergency contact.”

There was a pause. “Is this Natalie Roy?”

She detected wonder, but no hostility, which encouraged her frankness. “Yes it is. I didn't know whether to say so. Look, I'm not some evil scientist like I was made out to be. I would never hurt Zoe in any way. I'm just genuinely fascinated by her case and would love to sequence her genome, if she's still open to research. I know she was yesterday.”

He chuckled. “Hang on a second.”

She waited, unsure if she was making a terrible mistake. Could one phone call constitute harassment? But thirty seconds later, a high-pitched female voice chirped on the line.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Natalie said. Her heart ricocheted against her chest. “Is this Zoe?”

“Yeah. Is this really Natalie Roy? From Columbia?”

“Yes, well, not anymore, unfortunately.”

“Oh my God! I tried to call your office before, but they said you were gone.”

“You did? You called me?”

“I knew about you from reading that article. No one else wants to study me but you. And I didn't know how to find you. I can't believe you called Gramps! But we have to hurry.”

“You're in a rush?”

Natalie heard a door faintly close, and Zoe's voice dropped to a whisper. “Gramps is so old. You have to figure out how to stop his aging before it's too late. Dr. Carlyle said the secret could be in my body.”

Natalie closed her eyes, feeling her chest squeeze with sympathy. So that was why she had rushed out in tears. What pressure she had put on her own small shoulders! Yet she was helpless without science, as helpless as Natalie herself had been when her own parents crumbled from old age. All the love in the world could not stop the march of death.

“You must really love your grandfather,” she said.

“I'd do anything for him. Can you help us?”

“Well, it's true that there could be a very important mutation in your DNA—but it could be a long time before any practical applications come of it, if we can even find it. You know that, right?”

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

“The first step is for me to obtain a blood sample.”

“How? Let's do it!”

“I could pick you up right now in a cab. But, Zoe? We need to go to my old lab, where all the equipment is. I have to warn you, I'm not supposed to go there anymore. We need to be careful.”

“Is there no other lab we can go to?”

“Not that I can access. I'm afraid this is our only shot. After tonight, I won't be able to get back in.”

“So how will you do the research?”

“I'll do whatever it takes to find another lab. I may need to move out of state, so that's why I'd like to get the sample from you now, while we're both still here and I can get in one last time.”

Zoe's voice held no fear. “I'm ready if you are.” “I'll leave right now. I can't wait to meet you.” Natalie didn't add what else she was thinking: a true fourteen-year-old could never sound so brave.

 

 

Zoe crept as quietly as she could down the wooden stairs, avoiding the creaky spots. Her parents were asleep in their bedroom on the second floor. Gramps followed behind her, taking care to step exactly where she did, holding the banister for support. Her excitement mounted with each step, but she knew she couldn't rush and leave him stranded. They didn't speak until they reached the bottom. He clutched her arm as he trudged beside her toward the front door.

“I want to go with you,” he whispered. “We don't know this woman. Let me come.”

Zoe shook her head. “It's too much for you. I can take care of myself. I took karate, remember?”

“But you're so small.” He winced as if he might have offended her. “You're the boss, though.” It was his affectionate kid nickname for her—one that had now taken on a new significance. She smiled. It wasn't lost on either of them.

Through the window, she saw a yellow cab roll to a stop in front of their door. She could make out the silhouette of a woman in the backseat.

“I'll be fine,” she whispered. In case she was threatened, Gramps was the last person who could defend her, but she didn't say so. She wondered if somewhere, deep down, he still saw himself as a young Olympic hero, merely contained in the shell of a crippled old man. Like Ulysses—made weak by time and fate, but not in will. She and Gramps shared flip sides of the same tragedy, she realized—both were trapped in bodies that belied their souls. She grabbed his hand and steered him to his favorite recliner in the den.

“Wait here,” she instructed. “I'll be back soon.”

He sat down with a look of defeat. “But how will I be able to reach you, just in case?”

“You think I didn't think of that?” she said, pulling her cell phone out of her purse.

He raised his eyebrows. “I thought your father took it.”

“He did. And hid it in the toolbox, where he hides his extra key.” She shook her head with a smile and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Don't worry, this is going to be awesome. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered. “Please be careful.”

She held her index finger to her lips and tiptoed to the door. Opening and closing it was the trickiest part, but she managed to slip out just as Gramps gave a few coughs for good measure.

Outside the quiet night was cool. She should have brought a jacket, but it was too risky to go back inside. She skipped down the brownstone steps, inhaling the scent of the pink and white magnolia trees that lined the block. As the sweet fragrance filled her with a sense of possibility, the cab's rear door popped open for her. She grasped the cold metal handle, glancing over her shoulder at the apartment's second-floor window. Its light was off, so she climbed inside and shut the door. The cab lurched forward, its headlights stabbing the darkness.

Natalie twisted to face Zoe full on, smiling and extending her hand. “It's so nice to finally meet you.”

“You're so young!” Zoe exclaimed, and then blushed. “I just imagined you as way older. I read your CV online, and you've done so much.”

Natalie was prettier than she'd imagined, too, but didn't say so. With her sleek brown bob, prominent cheekbones, and shapely breasts under her cashmere sweater, she looked more like a hip news anchor than a nerdy scientist. Though Zoe would never admit it, she always noticed the size of other women's cheekbones and breasts before anything else, and judged their femininity accordingly. Already, Natalie's ranked about ten times greater than her own, and Zoe felt a deep-seated envy stir, admiration of a womanliness that could so far be matched only in spirit.

Natalie chuckled at her surprise. “Thank you. I may look young, but I've been doing research since I was your age.” She cleared her throat. “Since college. So I've had a lot of years to build up my CV.”

Zoe could tell she was being modest. “Yeah, but it's what's on it that's impressive. All that stuff with the genes you found that relate to aging . . . didn't you get a MacArthur genius grant?”

A proud smile tugged at her lips. “About five years ago. It was given to me with the hope that I would work on targeting the location of the master regulator gene. The gene that's believed to underpin the entire aging process.”

“Dr. Carlyle told me about it,” Zoe said. “I'd never heard of it before.”

“Most people haven't. It's still only a theory.”

“So what happened?” she asked eagerly. “What did you find?”

Natalie glanced out her window at the shuttered storefronts zipping by on Broadway. The usually busy road was deserted at this hour, and the green lights seemed to last an eternity.

“I didn't find it,” she replied. “But I came closer than anyone ever has. That is, I found several possible locations on certain chromosomes that I think could hold the gene, or group of genes. I just haven't been able to dig much further. It's very hard to separate out the cause and effect when you don't have a picture of what the gene would look like turned off—without that, we can't begin to reconstruct the chain of events that kick in to accelerate aging. It's impossible to know which chemical reaction causes which, like dominoes that are all falling. We can see they're being knocked down, but we can't tell where it started.” A smile spread across her face. “Not yet, at least.”

Zoe couldn't help picturing a perpetual collision of dominoes inside of Gramps's body, one striking the next, and the next, involuntary as a heartbeat and just as finite. She wondered how many more he had left.

The cab slowed, and she saw that they were in a grittier neighborhood than her own. Few people ventured onto the shadowy streets, and those who did walked with hunched shoulders and quick strides. She felt the first clip of fear, but brushed it off. Something about being with Natalie made her feel safe.

After paying the driver, they climbed out on the sidewalk next to Columbia, right at the threshold of the cobblestone campus. Near the black gate stood a sleepy security guard, who barely moved when Natalie flashed her blue faculty ID. Before he could decide to inspect her picture, they strode past him and onto the university grounds. It was as awe-inspiring as its surroundings were not. Zoe wanted to stop and admire the imposing dome supported by columns that formed the centerpiece of the campus, and the statue of a bronze lady on its steps, but Natalie took her hand and pulled her along. A few students sauntered by them, loudly talking and laughing, but otherwise, the campus was empty.

They walked past the domed building and a great wide lawn, then sharply turned to the left and stopped before a smaller, rectangular building. It looked to be about ten or twelve stories high. Etched above the door were the words:
FAIRCHILD CENTER, DEPARTMENT OF BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES
. Natalie reached into her purse to retrieve her access pass, and Zoe noticed a gleam of sweat on her upper lip, despite the breezy night.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, standing in front of her, in case anyone should pass them.

Natalie flashed her a reassuring smile. “No one's here. Let's go in.”

She held her magnetic pass up to the door's black sensor and a green light flashed. As she opened the door, Zoe went in first, ducking under her arm. All the lights were off. The door closed behind them with a soft thud.

“Stick by me,” Natalie said. “I don't want to turn on the lights in case someone notices.” Zoe reached for her hand, but grasped her elbow by accident in the darkness. Natalie's pace was brisk, and Zoe had to take extralong strides to keep up. The faint blue glow of her cell phone gave them a few precious inches of sight. She tried not to imagine a rat scurrying over their feet.

“I'd know my way around here in my sleep.” Natalie's voice seemed disembodied, bouncing off the walls like an echo. Zoe could tell the hallway was narrow and she sucked air in, warding off claustrophobia. The air smelled like a janitor's scrubbing fluid, pungent with cleanliness. They blindly rounded a corner and walked down another hallway, their rapid footsteps tapping the floor in tandem.

“Almost there.” After a few more steps, Natalie stopped and unlocked a door, then led Zoe inside a darkened room.

“Close your eyes.”

She obeyed. Fluorescent lights switched on with a buzzing sound and her hands flew to her face.

“Sorry,” Natalie said. “But we can use the lights now. This is an internal room, no windows.”

When Zoe opened her eyes, she saw that they were in a lab about twice the size of her bedroom. All kinds of exotic equipment filled the room. Many were items she didn't recognize, but some she did, like computers, microscopes, test tubes and slides, which sat on a long counter in the back of the room. Wonder overcame her, as if she had landed on an alien planet far more advanced than her own.

“Welcome,” Natalie said. “This was my lab.”

“I'm sorry. It's beautiful.”

“I don't think most people would call it that.”

“Well, I think it is. In a way that trees and mountains could never be, even though they're beautiful, too.”

“Funny, I know just what you mean.” Natalie tilted her head, contemplating her with a smile. “Okay, let me tell you what I'm going to do and why, and then let's do it and get out of here.”

“Sounds good.”

“To sequence your genome, I'll need to study your DNA, which is in the blood sample you're about to give. I'll start off the process here, tonight, by breaking your DNA down into small pieces, using my hydrodynamic shearing device, and then I'll store it on glass slides called flow cells. Keeping it on slides is a better way to preserve the DNA than to just save your blood in a test tube.”

“Why do you have to break it into small pieces?” Zoe asked, climbing onto a stool next to a tray of empty vials, syringes, and rubber gloves.

“That allows the sequencing machines to analyze the base pairs in manageable chunks—it's like reading a book one page at a time. Imagine if all the words were smushed together onto a single, gigantic scroll—it would be far too long to read at once.”