Cruel World(147)

“If they weren’t what you were trying to create, then what were you doing here?”

Gregory managed to raise his head high enough to look him in the eye.

“Your father was trying to cure you.”

Quinn felt like he’d been kicked by a horse. The air buzzed, and he lost vestibular sense. The ground was the sky and then it reversed, sending him into a dizzying tailspin.

“What?” was all he managed, all he could get himself to say.

“When all of the surgeries for you were ruled out, he came to me. He knew I was trying new gene therapy strategies, —that I was on the forefront of discovery—and asked if there was any way to help with your condition. He wanted a normal life for you so much, Quinn; it was his sole ambition. He built this place, gave us tens of millions for a budget, all for you.”

Quinn lowered himself to the floor as the world continued to whirl around him.

“I don’t understand…why?” he breathed.

“Because he loved you. More than anything or anyone. He was driven beyond any man I’ve ever met.” Gregory paused, glancing around the operating theatre as if he’d heard something. They all listened too, but there was nothing but the hum of the lights and the rain. “We began work on mice, then moved on to primates, slowly verifying what route we needed to take to get to the end goal. It became clear early on that a virus would be necessary for the delivery of the genetic program.”

“A chimeric virus,” Quinn said, recalling the information Holtz had told him.

“Yes. An adenovirus holding a common flu virus gene. We mutated the gene responsible for transmission so it could never become communicable.” Gregory swallowed and shook again as if fighting off another coughing episode. “But something went wrong with our first test in a human.”

“You said you were working with primates. How did you ever get clearance to go ahead with human testing?” Alice asked.

Gregory seemed to focus on her for a moment before sliding his gaze back to Quinn.

“We didn’t. Your father pushed the tests forward. I told him we needed another two years of clinical trials after gaining licenses, but he couldn’t be dissuaded.”

“But what did he hope to achieve with all this? You said so yourself that the surgeries were out of the question. How was this virus supposed to help me?” Quinn asked.

“The chimeric virus—” Gregory said, pointing his free arm at a coolant cell at the furthest end of the row, “—held a protein for dissolving healthy bone tissue and another, that was purely experimental, for rebuilding it, along with a dose of human growth hormone to promote the generation of cells. We were going to concentrate the virus in your facial bones and then make an organic cast replicated from your father’s bone structure. The cast would have been implanted on your skull and the secondary protein would have rebuilt the bones according to the cast.”

Quinn swayed before the man. The rain was calling him. He could walk into it and let it soak his clothing, wash away the swirling shock that cloaked him. He could forget.

“You could’ve stopped him,” Quinn said, tears blurring his vision. “You could’ve prevented all this.”

“You’re right. I could have. But my own aspirations were too great. We went ahead with testing on our first human candidate. His name was Rodney Fairbanks. He was an Iraq War veteran. He’d been involved in drug trials for years, especially concerning post-traumatic stress disorder. We offered him more money than he’d ever received before.

“The initial tests were very promising. Your father was ecstatic when he left that day.”

For a moment, Quinn was lost in the memory of his father dancing with Teresa in their living room, Frank Sinatra’s voice surrounding him completely.

“But something went wrong,” Quinn said.

“Yes,” Gregory replied. “The gene that encodes the contagion protein must have reverted after interacting with Rodney’s cells. It became an actively replicating virus once more. Every person that came into contact with him that day carried it from this building out into the world.”

“My father flew home that day on a public flight,” Quinn said. “He gave it to everyone. He helped spread it across the nation.”

Gregory shuddered and nodded. “It killed nearly everyone it came in contact with. The virus caused an enormously high fever that we were able to control in this laboratory, but worldwide they had no idea what they were dealing with. The abominations were a genetic anomaly I only partially understand. A genetic factor allowed a significant portion of the population to weather the fever, but they lost their humanity in the process. The abnormal growth of the bone, skin, and musculature, was caused by the experimental protein combined with the HGH. It was something we never anticipated.”