The Zen Gene (24 page)

Cold Camp

Parksville, British Columbia

Mann awoke, startled from an uneasy sleep, when the truck came to an abrupt stop bouncing hard on its stiff suspension. The squeal of compressed air when Ellie set the parking brakes was followed a moment later by the engine shutting down. The truck vibrated with one final bone-rattling shudder as the big diesel rumbled to a stop.

The silence that followed was as intense as the engine noise had been. It felt like something evil had stopped squeezing his head and he was waiting for his ears to adjust to the lack of pressure. He sat up and looked out the windshield and was surprised to see they had stopped in a Parks Canada campground. There were a dozen empty drive-through sites for RVs each one with an identical fire pit and picnic table. Not many campers this time of year, he thought.

Ellie opened her door and climbed down from the cab. He had a few moments of stretching the sore muscles of his neck and back, stiff from sleeping on the jump-seat, before unkinking his legs and following her out. It was beginning to get dark.

“Where are we?”

“Welcome to Parksville, Doc,” she said.

He turned when he heard Tyler climbing down from the sleeper and waiting at the bottom to help Zen. They stood in a loose half circle around a cold fire pit and he noticed he could see his breath in the crisp evening air.

“We need to set up the tent and get some food started because I have to get some sleep,” said Ellie.

At that point she’d been awake and driving for twenty hours and he thought she looked ready to fall down. While they were unloading the truck he watched Zen wander aimlessly around the campsite. Her movements were jerky and uncoordinated and a few times he thought she would trip and fall. Her face was pale and her eyes, which normally sparkled with life, were flat and unfocused.

“Are you okay Zen?”

When she looked in his direction he noticed she responded slowly and her eyes did not seem to be focused.

“I’m okay,” she said.

Her voice was barely audible and her words were slurred. From reading about it he knew that the cumulative effect of multiple Taser hits could reduce mental and physical responses and he was worried about her. After several hours of sleep she had not fully recovered as expected; the Taser’s after-effects were obvious. She suffered trauma to her chest from the pounding she got from Sedulca and he wondered if that compounded the Taser’s effect. When he suggested they take her to the hospital she flatly refused. He thought Ellie was going to insist but something in Zen’s voice made her back down. He was concerned she might trip and fall in the gathering darkness and possibly further injure herself.

“Zen I want you to sit down at the picnic table while we set up the camp,” he said.

The most telling, and therefore most worrisome, sign was that she did as he requested without argument. Ellie noticed it too and they exchanged a worried glance as she meekly sat down. He kept an eye on her while he tried unsuccessfully to set up the tent one handed. Tyler had wandered off with a flashlight in search of firewood while Ellie finished unloading the truck and was starting to prepare food.

When he returned his two arms were loaded with branches and twigs and a few chunks of split cedar he found left behind at other camp sites. He dumped the whole thing in the fire pit and went back for some pieces he could not carry in the first load.

When he returned he tried to help him set up the tent but the two of them could not figure it out and he stood by sheepishly as Ellie put it together. The cooler was on the ground beside the fire pit. She stopped what she was doing to take a long appraising look at Mann and shook her head. She reached in and grabbed him a cold beer and opened it for him.

“You look like shit, Doc,” she said.

He realized he was probably not any healthier than Zen, they were both thrashed from their encounter with Sedulca. When they stopped in Nanaimo for lunch and to buy snack food, water, and a six pack of Kokanee, he went into the washroom and tried to clean himself up. His face looked scary with a swath of itchy scabs and colourful bruises. The injuries, plus the fact he had not shaved for three days, made him look like a street person living rough. He joked that maybe he should try pan handling for a few bucks outside the liquor store but nobody laughed. His face did not bother him much, the pain was mostly gone, but his knee was still painful and swollen; it refused to bend far or easily.

He tried to be useful by lighting the campfire but he gave up because he lacked the necessary dexterity to bend down. He was experiencing a lot of pain from his knee even though he washed four painkillers down with the beer Ellie gave him. Tyler was sitting with Zen and they watched him for a while until Zen asked Ty to help and he took over and soon had a good fire going.

He gave up trying to help and sat down with Zen at the picnic table and they watched Ellie and Tyler do the work. It was completely dark and getting cold by the time they finished eating and cleared the table. Ellie prepared a great meal of salad, beans, and cold fried chicken, but he noticed Zen did not eat much and only picked at the food on her plate. The meal revived him and he was starting to feel human again and with that came a more positive outlook. When he looked around their little camp he felt they could safely stay for a day or two until they figured out what to do next.

He was anxious about Andi’s condition. She had not responded well to the treatment and he was frustrated but dared not risk a phone call to check on her. A single call could lead some unknown threat right to them and put all their lives in danger. He did not risk calling from Nanaimo lest it give away the direction they were traveling. The important thing he discovered, in his short but intense exposure to the people involved in this, was they were deadly serious. He would just have to suck it up and wait to find out how she was doing.

They sat in silence exhausted by the day’s events. He could hear the soothing sound of the surf pounding on a nearby shore and the rhythmic sound lulled him. The surf, his full stomach, and the beer and pain killers were making him drowsy. It was only ten p.m. but he could barely keep his eyes open and he yawned. The yawn was contagious and Ellie yawned too and said, “You boys should be warm enough with those sleeping bags and we’ve got a good bed of coals going in the fire pit. I’m going to turn in before I fall down. Good night.”

He was ready to turn in as well but he noticed Zen stir uncomfortably and he glanced at her. He watched the firelight and shadows on her face and it seemed like she was getting ready to say something. She seemed to be trying to find the courage to tell her mom something. When he talked with her in her kitchen she mentioned her mom held strong negative views of her boyfriends and males in general.

“Mom, that isn’t going to work,” she said. Her voice was soft but resolute.

“What?” Ellie said. “What isn’t going to work?”

“Tyler and I-,” she began but stopped.

“What?” Ellie said. She was tired and not getting it.

“We, me and Tyler, we are… together now,” she said. Her eyes were cast down and she looked like she was getting ready for a huge reaction from her mom.

He saw some of the colour leave Ellie’s face when she realized what her daughter was telling her. She was obviously stunned by this news but thankfully she retained the presence of mind not to overreact. He could see her weighing her response and for a long moment she looked like she would say something but decided against it.

Instead she got up from the picnic table where they were sitting, walked to the truck, climbed in, and closed the door. Zen looked at him and her eyes were wide. It looked to him like she surprised herself when she told her mom she would be sleeping with Tyler.

He had only recently met Ellie and he did not know her well but waking up with her standing over him with a baseball bat he could easily imagine she might not be the easiest mom to spring this kind of news on. Zen got up from the table and he watched her unsteady footing as she weaved towards the tent. Tyler followed her a moment later and then he heard the zipper close behind them and he found himself in the uncomfortable position of not having any place to sleep.

Bloody Hitch Hiker

Barbara Knight stood on the blackened pavement where two days earlier a military van exploded and burned turning slowly taking in her surroundings. The most striking detail, she thought, was the number of abandoned factories there were in this part of Victoria.

The buildings were mostly old with a few newer ones and all were in various stages of decomposition. Her eye stopped when she came to Genetexa Agricultural Pharmaceuticals. The sight of the logo on the building brought back a flood of unhappy memories.

Although it was years ago she could vividly recall seeing that logo all over the news media when the Government of Canada banned the use of artificial growth hormones. A research team at the University of British Columbia established beyond question a causal link between meats produced using synthetic hormones and Alzheimer’s disease. Big Pharma fought back but the UBC studies the ban was based on was replicated many times in independent labs all over the world. The link to Alzheimer’s syndrome was accepted as scientific fact.

This finding began a cascade of events around the globe and when the World Health Organization called for a worldwide ban on growth hormones it marked the end of the practice of injecting livestock with growth hormones.

The reason she remembered these events so clearly was a personal one. Her father died from Alzheimer’s disease one week before the announcement. She was sad about losing him to that horrible disease. Near the end he did not recognize her or anyone and he had to be restrained most of the day. He was angry and agitated and confused by everything around him. His death, when it came, was a relief and for a long time she felt guilty about feeling that way.

She walked towards the factory through the waist-high weeds and as she came closer she wondered if there were still laboratories inside the building. When the connection between Alzheimer’s and the use of growth hormones hit the main stream media, factories like this one closed down in a matter of days. The parent corporations declared bankruptcy and the properties were boarded up and abandoned. Ownership of the land and buildings was tied up in lawsuits for years.

As she approached the side of the building she looked back and saw Owen leaning against the rental van smoking a cigarette. She wished he wouldn’t smoke it got on his clothes and stunk up the van. At least he was outside, she thought. When she turned back something on the ground caught her eye. It looked like a bit of coloured fabric in amongst the weeds and she went to investigate.

As she came closer she could see a man sprawled on the ground. She unclipped her gun and removed it and jacked a round into the chamber. She flipped off the safety and held it down by her side as she approached, walking around to stand in front of him to see his face. He looked dead but moaned loudly when she kicked his leg.

“Are you okay?” she said.

The man slowly opened his eyes but they remained unfocused. He might have been drunk but the intense coppery smell of blood told her otherwise.

“Are you okay?” she repeated.

The man was insensible. She took out her phone and called Owen to come over. When he got there they picked him up and carried him to the van. She wondered if he was the missing American agent she was asked to watch out for. He was well groomed and dressed nicely which meant he was not a street person and the fact he was lying within a hundred meters of where they found the kid’s computer made it seem entirely likely. Regardless of his identity he was in bad shape and would certainly die of exposure if they left him.

In the Emergency room she watched the doctor examining him. Considering the loss of blood and weak condition they found him in she assumed he would be admitted but judging by the doc’s body language the man they brought in was not in bad shape. The trauma nurse she spoke with told her he took a good whack to the head. It took twenty-one stitches to close the gash and a liter of whole blood. The guy must have a thick skull, she thought. Anyone else would likely be brain damaged but an hour after they brought him in he was sitting up on a hospital gurney.

She came back from ICU where the Worthy boy’s mother was being treated. The ICU nurse told her the mother’s condition was unchanged and the longer they kept her unconscious the better the prognosis was for her recovery. An interesting detail about the mother was that it was the RCMP anti-terrorist squad that caused her injuries.

When she reported it to Charlie Wyatt he was glad to hear it; this gave him a card to play if they were to negotiate with the Mounties over any of the details of this mess. When Owen returned from the Tim Horton’s in the lobby she told him it was time to go.

“Our ever expanding band of terrorists are traveling north in a Mack truck. Tech support has been following them using the truck’s satellite tracking system.

The truck belongs to Ellie Watson, she is the mother of the boy’s girlfriend, Hazen Michaels. They are currently stopped, presumably for the night, at a campsite a few kilometers outside of Parksville. I am told we can drive there in about two hours. Good thing we opted for the ten passenger van.”

She tossed him the keys to the van, she knew if she drove Owen would follow his normal pattern and be asleep within ten minutes of starting the engine. When he turned to head for the elevator she said.

“Wait, Owen, we have a passenger.”

When he turned he was amazed to see the man they brought exit the washroom pale and shaky but upright and apparently mobile.

“This is Frank. He’s coming with us to Parksville,” she said.

Sedulca looked at Owen and curtly nodded as he sized him up. He was looking forward to meeting the guy who hit him and it crossed his mind it could have been Owen until he learned they’d just arrived from Ottawa. He was confused about what happened yesterday. In the washroom he looked at himself in the mirror while he waited for Jonas to answer his phone. It was lucky whoever took his keys and wallet missed the cell phone clipped to his belt.

The Doctor told him to take it easy for the next few days but he did not have that luxury. Things were moving too fast to sit around waiting for his headache to go away. He looked bad but aside from the throbbing head he felt okay. When Jonas picked up he said.

“I had your friend Mann and the kid’s girlfriend but someone hit me; I think it must have been the kid. If it was, I hope whoever ends up buying him doesn’t mind damaged goods ‘cause I’m gonna break the little pricks arm when I find him,” he said.

He told Jonas about the CSIS agent who found him and brought him to the hospital. “She thinks I am a missing NSA asset. Do you think she means you?” he asked, “how long has it been since you checked in with them?”

Jonas didn’t answer so Sedulca told him that he heard the CSIS agents talking when they thought he was unconscious.

“They’ve located the kid but she didn’t say where. They’re heading up island, somewhere close to Parksville to pick him up and the CSIS woman offered to take me along with them which is handy. I need you to get the spare keys and pick up the car and drive to Parksville,” he said.

He explained to him where he left the car. He was about to hang up when Jonas dropped his bombshell.

“Western is dead.”

He filled him in on how Western went nuts and started killing people. There was a long pause.

“Did you take your meds today, Jonas?” he said.

“Yes, I did! This was Western’s fault. He went nuts and started shooting people. I had to kill him, I was lucky to get out of there with my life,” he said.

Sedulca could not tell over the phone if Jonas was off his meds and hallucinating, he had that kind of psychotic break before. If Western is dead that explains why the woman from CSIS is looking for the kid, he thought. It also meant they were running out of time.

The deal they cut with their American contact was becoming more complicated by the minute. He could not be certain of what Jonas did in Vancouver. He was supposed to observe at the meeting not participate and certainly not intervene. He wasn’t sure what Jonas had promised the American to get him to agree to let him attend the meeting but he was sure it did not include dead citizens. He was hoping it was not a delusional Jonas, off his meds, who killed them.

His head was pounding hard as he considered the implications of Western’s death. When the CSIS agent asked him if he was up to the trip he nodded. He might look like shit with a bandage wrapped around his skull but now it was urgent that he catch up to that kid. Having him as a pawn to negotiate with might be the only thing that saves their asses.

They stopped at the Salvation Army Thrift Store on Cedar Hill Road and Mrs. K. went inside and bought him a shirt and jacket to wear for the trip. There wasn’t too much blood on his jeans so they would pass.

It was taking a long time to get going and he was having trouble staying awake. The agent she introduced as Owen kept getting them lost before they left the city so Mrs. K. drove. She stopped at the bottom of the hill in Millbay for coffee and muffins but he pretended to be asleep on the rear bench seat and Owen was snoring with his mouth open beside her in the front.

An hour later she pulled into a Shell station for gas outside Nanaimo and went in to pay and came back with coffee for all of them.

“How are we going to handle this?” Owen asked.

“When we spot them you and Frank will stay in the van and I will do the dotty old lady thing and see what they’re up to. I have you on speed dial if I call you and say nothing it means it’s time to show up for the party. We can take them to the safe house at Black Creek for a preliminary debriefing and see what happens. Did you load the safe house address into the GPS?”

Owen nodded, “Do we need to wear the biohazard suits in case there is some kind of weapon?”

Looking in the mirror she saw Frank was awake and he was eating a muffin.

“No. It would not do to let them see me dressed for Armageddon. I’ll play it cool, they won’t suspect me it works every time,” she said.

“Almost every time, remember that beast in Brantford?” Owen said.

“I’m trying not to. It’s your turn to drive. Don’t get lost. Wake me when we get near the map coordinates.”