The Gender Experiment: (A Thriller) (16 page)

But first, he’d call the paramedics. He grabbed his cell phone from the floor and hit 911.

“What’s your emergency?”

“My belly is bleeding. I was in the ER yesterday after crashing into a tree branch, and the wound is bleeding badly.” True enough. Yesterday’s stitches were in the same general location. Maybe he should pull them out so it looked… Never mind.

“No need to shout,” the dispatcher said. “What’s your name and address?”

Was he shouting? Too bad. Seth gave her the information and shut down the call. No more stalling. No more distractions.
Goodbye, girly parts.
Seth brought the blade to his abdomen and plunged it in.

Friday, Oct. 14, 9:30 a.m.

Jake woke to the sound of his phone alarm and sat up, feeling groggy. He grabbed the cell and checked the time. Oh right, late morning. His body clock was totally messed up. He forced himself to get up and take a shower. Clean clothes would have been nice, but they weren’t a priority, so he dressed in what he had, ignoring the smell. Finding Taylor was still his focus. After he had called the FBI earlier and talked to Agent Bailey, he’d felt calmer, like he’d done everything he could for Taylor. So he’d called Seth Wozac’s number and left a message, then stretched out to get some overdue sleep.

But only a few hours. Guilt about Taylor would keep him from any kind of normal life until he knew what the hell had happened. It would be easy to assume she was dead, and he winced at the thought. But why wouldn’t the assassin leave her body like he had with Zion? The fact that she’d been taken made Jake believe she was still alive. Why did they want her? He shuddered to think of her in captivity, possibly being experimented on. He hoped like hell the FBI would find her.

His stomach growled, and he looked around the room. The pizza he’d ordered the night before was gone. His mouth was dry, and the stink of his own breath was toxic. Time to brush his teeth and get back to his investigation. He couldn’t do much else. If he left the motel, the assassin might shoot him. Agent Bailey’s suggestion that he seek protection from the Denver field office sounded good in theory, but he was in Colorado Springs. Anything could happen in the hour it would take to drive to the city.

More important, he wanted to find Charles Metzler. The doctor had delivered many of the experiment babies and was probably key to this whole thing. Or maybe not. Still, Metzler had to know something, and Jake needed to interview him for the article he planned to write.

First, he needed food, so he hurried down the covered walkway to the lobby and raided the vending machine for snack packs of nuts and cookies. The clerk glanced over and tried to catch his eye, but he ignored her. He wouldn’t pay for another night until he had to. While scarfing cashews, he searched the online white pages for the doctor, but didn’t find him. A broad internet search didn’t produce usable results either. Metzler had probably retired. Jake opened the clinic files again, scanned for the second doctor he’d noticed, and found the name David Novak. The doctor came up quickly in an internet search as an obstetrician at St. Paul’s Medical Center.

Novak might have known about ImmuNatal too, or could help him find Dr. Metzler. Calling to set up an interview seemed like a waste of time. Doctors were notoriously hard to reach, even when you were their patient. Jake called the hospital anyway just to see if Novak was in the building. The receptionist transferred him to the maternity unit.

“Third floor nurse’s desk. How can I help you?”

“I’d like to speak with Dr. David Novak.”

“He’s in the delivery room. Can I take your name and number?”

“Sure.” Jake gave them to her. Why not? There was a one-in-a-million chance Novak would call back. “Thanks.” He clicked off, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the door. He knew where Novak was right at this moment, so he shouldn’t waste this opportunity. Even if he hung around the hospital for hours and didn’t get to question the doctor, it was still better than being cooped up in this motel room, feeling helpless. He could search online and make calls from anywhere.

He stopped at the door, his chest tightening. The assassin could be out there, waiting and watching. Maybe not the one who’d taken Taylor, but another one. The military had a million people.

Man up!

Jake yanked open the door and charged across the parking lot to Taylor’s car. He’d picked it up after finding Taylor’s phone pouch with the key near the police station. Inside the vehicle, he locked the doors, started the engine, and let out his breath. Good so far. No one seemed to be sitting on a nearby rooftop with a rifle trained on him. But an assassin could be waiting for a better opportunity. Or maybe the military wanted to abduct him too. No, he wasn’t one of the subjects. They just wanted him silent. He raced out of the parking lot, past a young family getting out of their car. Around him, people were working their jobs, going out to lunch, or strolling in the crisp fall sunshine. He envied their peace of mind, but not their lives. He craved stimulation and puzzles and uncertainty. He’d just never thought it would actually get him killed.

He watched the rearview mirror obsessively for the first five minutes on the road but didn’t see a car following. After almost rear-ending a truck, he settled on occasional checks behind him. But he couldn’t let down his guard. Until when? Until his article hit the national media. When everyone knew about the gender experiment, there would be no point in killing him to keep it quiet. Unless, they simply wanted revenge. Even if the FBI caught the man who’d taken Taylor, the military had thousands of trained killers. He might never be safe. Jake’s throat dried up, and he gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles hurt. What the hell had he gotten into?

St. Paul’s Medical Center sat on the edge of a massive city park. Jake glanced up at the third floor and thought the patients must have a nice view. Not that women in labor cared much about that. He entered the parking garage, stopped at the ticketed gate, then circled his way up to the third level. As he shut off the car, his reporter routine kicked in, and he reached in his backpack for a notepad. But he couldn’t find it. Had he left it at the hotel? No worries. He would record the conversation on his phone. He checked his face and hair in the mirror.
Shit!
He hadn’t shaved in days, and his T-shirt was wrinkled. He looked like a homeless man. Jake’s gut contracted. He was homeless. But not for long. He pulled on his sweatshirt to cover the ugly T-shirt and climbed out of the car. Straightening his shoulders, he walked toward the building. As long as he looked confident and friendly, people would trust him. Or so his dad used to say. But the world today was different. People were more suspicious, especially here in Colorado where they’d had four mass shootings.

An engine rumbled in the dark concrete space, and he spun around. A middle-aged woman with several kids in a minivan. No one had followed him.

Once inside, the pinkish hospital walls and narrow, windowless corridors unnerved him. This probably wouldn’t go well. At the main desk, he approached a woman in scrubs. Her short hair was cobalt blue.
Interesting choice.
“I’m Jake Wilson. I called about meeting with Dr. Novak.”

She gave him a once over. “Uuhh, right. He’s still in the delivery room, but when he’s out, I’ll let him know you’re here.” She pointed down the hall. “There’s a family lounge you can wait in.”

Jake thanked her and strode toward the waiting room. Maybe there would be some free food, like a tray of donuts, or at least coffee.

The little space had a couch, three padded chairs, and a table with a coffee urn.
Thank god.
He filled a disposal cup, sat down, and turned on Taylor’s laptop. But before he delved back into the patient data, he would try Seth again. His third call since last night.

After five rings, a pleasant female voice answered. “This is a nurse at St. Paul’s. The person you’re trying to reach is a patient here. I hope you’re a friend or family member.”

Seth was in this hospital!
“Uh, I’m a friend. What’s wrong with Seth?”

“I can’t give you any information without his permission, but you should come see him. Oh.” She sounded surprised. “He’s waking up. I have to go.” The connection went dead.

What the hell?
Had Seth been shot by the assassin but somehow survived? Did the killer know his victim was here? Jake shut off the laptop and jumped to his feet. He had to find Seth, but this was the wrong floor. Jake rushed to the nurses’ desk. “Can you tell me what room Seth Wozac is in? He’s a friend, and I just heard he was here. I might as well visit him while I wait.”

“How do you spell that?”

Jake rattled it off. “If I give you my phone number, will you call me when Dr. Novak is available?”

“Sure.” She didn’t sound sincere. “Your friend is in room two-seventeen. That’s intensive care. They may not let you in.” The nurse handed him a small sticky note. “Write your name and number for me, and I’ll give it to Dr. Novak.”

Jake made himself write neatly, then rushed down the hall to the elevator. Seth was in critical condition, and the nurse had answered his phone. That was bad news. She must think Seth might die. The reality of it hit him hard, and Jake slowed down. Warning Seth now seemed almost pointless and cruel. But he had to see him anyway. Seth might be able to describe his attacker. He might even know something about the experiment he’d been part of.

Jake took the elevator down one floor, followed the signs to the ICU, and pressed the buzzer. A young male voice asked who he wanted to see, then let him in. They obviously weren’t worried about Seth’s safety. After Jake entered the ward, the young man in lavender scrubs reported, “Seth is recovering nicely, but we’re concerned about his mental health. Will you help him understand that he needs to talk to our staff psychiatrist?”

They thought Seth was crazy. Because he’d talked about the experiment? “What happened to him?” They walked down a wide corridor with glass walls defining the patient rooms. When they entered Seth’s area, he was sitting up on the edge of his bed. He stared at Jake with wild eyes. Seth didn’t know him and didn’t look happy to see him. Jake turned to the guy in scrubs. “Will you give us some privacy?”

“All right.” The nurse stepped out and closed the sliding glass door.

“Who the fuck are you?” Even seated and wearing a hospital gown, Seth was a big man. About the same height as Jake, but broader with thick arms and legs. He had short facial hair and a wide jaw and didn’t look androgynous like Zion and Taylor.

“I’m Jake Wilson. Sorry to barge in here, but I have to talk to you about Carson Obstetrics and the circumstances of your birth.”

Curiosity flickered in Seth’s gray eyes, but anger took over. “Whatever the hell happened, I fixed it. So fuck that. I’m getting out of here.” Seth stood on wobbly legs. “If you want to help me, find my pants!”

He didn’t look ready to leave the hospital, but maybe it was the safest thing for him. “They’re probably in a plastic bag somewhere.” Jake strode across the room and started opening cabinets. “What happened? Did someone assault you?” Jake looked over his shoulder as he talked.

Seth laughed, a harsh sound. “I assaulted myself and yanked out a little extra something I had in my gut.”

What the hell was he talking about?
“You did some kind of self-surgery?”

“None of your fucking business. Hand me my clothes.”

Jake found the bag and passed it to the patient. “I came here to warn you. I think someone might try to kill you.”

Seth’s brow wrinkled. “No shit? I almost beat them to it.” Another mocking laugh, then he turned serious. “What does this have to do with my birth?” He pulled on his pants under the hospital gown.

“I think the military conducted an experiment with pregnant women in 1995.” Jake paused. Seth didn’t look gender-fluid and might resent being lumped in with people who were. “Many of the babies born to those women have gender issues.”

Seth’s eyes narrowed. “You mean like having a uterus inside your male body?”

Poor dude.
“Yes, stuff like that.”

“Are you fucking for real? They did this to me on purpose?” His cheeks puffed and turned bright red.

“I think they were testing a drug, and it had unexpected consequences.”

“Those motherfuckers!” Seth slammed a hand down on the tray by his bed.

“I’m sorry, but I think you’re on a list to be terminated as well.”

“Are you fucking serious? It’s not enough to ruin my life? Now they want to end it too? Why?”

Taylor had suspected it was because of his fascination with fire, but Jake wouldn’t share that yet. “I don’t know, but I’m working on it.”

Seth suddenly sucked in a sharp breath and flopped back on the bed. The flush in his cheeks faded and he blinked rapidly. “I need some pain meds.”

“Should I get your nurse?”

“Not yet. Tell me more about this experiment.”

“I’m still investigating, but the women who had intersex babies were given a drug called ImmuNatal. They were all patients at Carson Obstetrics, which is connected to the military hospital inside the Fort Carson base.”

“My father was stationed at Fort Carson when I was born.” Seth rolled his eyes. “He’s a military asshole.”

“I have a list of the intersex babies born in 1996.” Jake had to tell him. “Four names are marked, including yours. The other three people are dead.”

Seth stared, opened-mouthed. “First, I’m not intersex, so don’t ever say that again. But if I am on the list, I’m not going down easy. Now that I finally know what was wrong with me and got it the hell out of my body, I’m ready to really live.”

What a strange, brave man.
“How are you feeling? I’m not sure the hospital is a safe place for you.” Jake was thinking of Dr. Novak. If he was involved in the experiment and reported Jake’s presence—

“I’m good. And I was leaving anyway.” Seth pulled shoes and socks out of the plastic bag. “No shirt, huh?”

The ER docs had probably cut if off him. Jake was curious about Seth’s self-surgery and how he ended up in the hospital, but that conversation could wait. He had a sudden sense of urgency. “Here, take my sweatshirt. It might be small, but it’s better than nothing.” Jake pulled it off. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”