The Cure: A Genetic Engineering Thriller

“Your total is $43.75 for the gas and the food. How are you paying today?” The gas attendant was a teenager who looked less than enthused to be working an afternoon shift on such a beautiful, sunny afternoon. He sat hunched over the counter on a stool, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. “Cash, please,” James replied. Fishing out some bills from his wallet, he tried to hand them to the boy, but he wasn’t paying any attention. Once James cleared his throat, he shot upright, tossing his phone to the side. With the click of a few buttons, the cash register popped out and he gave James his change. “Will that be all?” the boy asked. “Can I have a bag for all this?” He gestured towards the premade sandwiches, sodas, chips, and energy bars. It wasn’t much, and James knew that if Amelia were still around, she would have surely hassled him about eating a proper diet, but there was a time and a place for proper meals. Attempting to outrun a murderous 2 pharmaceutical company that was after a precious serum that was coursing through his veins was not one of those times. After quickly bagging up James’s items, he shoved the receipt in the bottom of the bag and gave him a nod of farewell. With the growing line forming behind him, James took that as his cue to leave. Zigzagging through the crowd of patrons who were likely wishing they had just opted to pay at the pump, James made it back out to his sports car, which looked like it could use a detailed clean. He had been on the run for almost two weeks now, hopping from place to place, never staying more than a night or two in one spot. James was desperately trying to buy himself some time, to think to come up with a plan, anything to evade the criminal masterminds who killed his friend and ransacked his house. His glorious advantage was the fact that it was the summertime and there were lots of tourists out doing the exact thing that he was—traveling from state to state and visiting the famous national parks. It tugged at his heartstrings a little bit. This was something he and Amelia had always talked about doing when they first got married, but sadly, life always seemed to get in the way of planning the trip. She had been the outdoorsy one out of the two of them; her family had done annual camping trips nearly every weekend when she was growing up. They were some of her fondest memories of her childhood. James wished he had made more time to go out and rough it with her, 3 sit by the crackling fire underneath thousands of bright stars. Tossing the bag of food into the passenger seat, James slipped into the front seat and closed his eyes for a second, trying to push past the guilt and pain that always seemed to surface whenever his mind wandered about his departed wife. Instead, he tried to think about the positives. While she wasn’t here in the physical world with him driving to all these places that were on their metaphorical bucket list, he knew in his heart that she was there in spirit. “I’m doing this for you, Amelia,” he whispered to himself before putting the car in park and merging back onto the main road. With one hand on the wheel, he fiddled with the massive paper map he had purchased at one of his first stops and began mapping out the rest of his route for the afternoon. With only a few more hours of daylight left, James settled on Theodore Roosevelt National Park, as he had his sights set on Custer State Park for tomorrow. What he really wanted was to stop and see the Mount Rushmore Monument on his travels, and if he timed it right, he’d be there by early afternoon and would allow plenty of time for sightseeing. Stuffing the map haphazardly back into his overnight bag, he cruised for a few more hours before pulling into the national park. The parking lot was half full, and most of the vehicles were SUVs and trucks, which he 4 had no doubt were families that had also decided to camp here for the night. Retrieving the pup tent from the trunk that he had purchased the second night of his trip, James grabbed what little belongings he had and set out down the trail, following the echoes of children laughing and music. It didn’t take long for him to find a suitable site to set up for the night, close enough to a few groups of people that he would be safe from any wildlife that might drift by, but not so close that he would draw too much attention to himself. He knew how odd he must’ve looked—a middle-aged man in a sports car with a oneman tent and not even a pan or pot to cook with. Anyone here would’ve called him a rookie camper; a city dweller, but the truth of the matter was that he didn’t have the time to go rifling through the garage for his camping gear that dreaded night. Flashbacks burst in James’s head, one after the other like rapid fire. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he pulled up to Ronald’s house, knowing that something eerie and forsaken happened inside. He should’ve listened to his gut then, maybe even called the police ahead of time, and his friend could’ve got the help he needed. It was wishful thinking, survivor’s guilt some called it— since James lived to tell the tale. “Welcome!” a man’s voice startled James out of his thoughts. He had just caught a glimpse of the person standing in his peripherals and his heart skipped a beat. From what he could see, this mysterious man was wearing a black hoodie, and James was just about to reach for the Swiss army knife in his pocket when a woman came into view. “Are you just staying for the night?” she asked. James stood up and turned to face them straight on and visibly sighed with relief. He had been haunted those last few weeks by the man dressed in black. As soon as he got a good look at this man’s face, he knew it wasn’t the same person who killed Dr. Clark. They were just a young couple with two hefty backpacks and dressed to the nines in hiking gear. “Yes,” James said slowly, glancing at his sad excuse of a campsite. “I’m, uh, just trying to hit as many of the National Parks as I can. I could only take off so much time from work.” It was a lie—he had not called Kevin once since he left town, nor did he have his cellphone with his boss’s number regardless. He had contemplated using the burner phone he purchased and calling the shop directly, but he felt that was too big of a risk. Big Pharma could be sitting in the shadows waiting for a mysterious dial to his work and track him down from there. “Well, you picked a great spot,” the woman beamed. She looked at her husband, and the two shared an intense look for a few seconds, and James could feel the tension oozing off them. They were honeymooners. He knew that feeling all too well. He and Amelia had always joked they’d never leave their honeymoon phase. In a way, they didn’t, they were always giggling about some inside joke that no one else knew about, snuggling each night and they were not shy when it came to public displays of affection. They were in love, plain and simple, and his heart ached to watch these two young people. “My wife, she would’ve loved to have joined me,” he said suddenly, a part of him wishing he could take it back. “Oh,” the woman pouted. “She couldn’t take time off work?” James’s upper cheek twitched, and he hoped they didn’t notice. If only. “No, she passed away last year. I’m sort of doing this as a final tribute to her so that I can feel that she’s still with me.” And also to escape a group of murderers who want a secret formula that can cure people of illness, cancer, and disease, James thought. “I’m so sorry,” her husband said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as if she might leave him right then and there. “I couldn’t imagine life without my Melanie.” James perked up at the name. What were the chances that his wife would have the exact same name as the woman he had left back home? He started to sweat, wondering if this was all just some sort of sick, twisted game. Was Big Pharma messing with him? Was the man in black hiding in the shadows of the woods, just waiting to get him alone so they could drag him by the heels and bleed him dry? Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he scanned the forest behind the couple, searching for any sign of movement. They must’ve picked up on his nervousness, for they had taken a few steps down the path, preparing to depart. “We’re really sorry for your loss,” Melanie began, “and I think Sam can agree with me when I say it’s a really beautiful way to remember your late wife. It is getting late though, so we should probably go set up camp.” “Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Have a good night.” James watched them go, falling into stride with each other and talking as if they didn’t just have a strange interaction with a widowed husband out in the woods. It wasn’t until they were out of sight and all that was left were the faint murmur of the families around him and the sweet sound of the birds in the treetops that James allowed himself to relax. Taking a seat at the bench provided, he dug through the plastic bag and ate what was left; half of a sandwich, a granola bar, and some water. It wasn’t much, but it 8 would sustain him until he got something in the morning. For the rest of the night, he sat there in silence, surveying the area, patiently waiting for something to come crashing out of the woods. He placed his knife in the middle of the table, well within reach just in case. James had learned the hard way what happened when you weren’t too careful.