《Warrior Gene》


 Prologue

    Back in the beginning of the 21st century, there were rising numbers of violent crimes, rampant terrorism, increased mass murder, and the people were right that something was wrong and needed to be done. At first they tried to blame the increase in violence on the availability of weapons and the normalization of brutality within pop culture. As the media publicized these atrocious acts, public outcry gained momentum, and so too did the laws against owning guns and other weapons. When the wave of crime was not stemmed by these measures, the government finally had the firepower they needed to end net neutrality; violence was limited in movies and television shows, video games were no longer allowed to have human death; punishment for violence was increased in both the schools and the general public.


    It was not until the middle portion of the century that enough attention was paid to the geneticists and psychologists who had been studying biology and behavior, the ones who had said there was a way to predict violent and psychopathic tendencies in people. With the media focusing on nothing but the growing death tolls, the body counts, the fear, the government had to make a decision before the people took things into their own hands or turned on them. Liberties had slowly been taken away from the people on this campaign against unnatural and untimely death over the years, so the people had already become conditioned to losing more of their freedom, rights, and privacy.


    When the order for mandatory genetic testing and brain scans was announced, nearly everyone complied quietly. What was losing a little bit of freedom and privacy if it meant preventing large-scale deaths and the heartache of those affected by them?


    The police only had to make a few rounds to gather up the resistant few before nearly everyone had been accounted for. Hospitals, schools, and conference centers were requisitioned for the expedient testing of the entire population. College students studying psychology and biology were brought on to help analyze the results of the testing due to a shortage of fully-qualified scientists. Dozens of labs popped up seemingly overnight on the corners of cities and in the strip malls of quiet suburbs to process the tests locally.


    In the beginning, the tests were long and complex, the results not simply black and white. The scientists had explained that people could not always simply be labeled ¡®violent¡¯ or ¡®psychopathic¡¯, but had to be rated on more of a sliding scale. The presence of monoamine oxidase A, the warrior gene, and other violence-related markers were not enough to rule someone a hard and fast psychopath or would-be criminal. Behavior, the presence of traumatic experiences early in life, and inactivity in certain regions of the brain also played key roles a diagnosis. Rather than a quick turn around on results, the analysis of the tests dragged on longer than the people or government expected.


    As with many things that happen on a macro scale, this was not expedient enough for the government. There were too many variables, too many scientific terms, too much rhetoric for the impatient suits on the hill. While bureaucracy may take its time, those who answer to it are not allowed that same latitude. Rather than heed the complete advice of those who had originally kicked off this entire campaign, the government turned to a close and trusted few to simplify the tests, to come up with a way to sort out the ¡®criminals¡¯, the ¡®ticking time bombs¡¯, from the rest of the public.


    The labs remained in place as a permanent fixture to process the tests of stragglers and newborns for decades to come. The college students returned to their studies, no longer needed for the long and arduous process of interpreting results of a test that was no longer in use. The scientists, appalled by the oversimplification and butchering of their tests, retired, turned to academia, or quietly returned to their work. The people waited in their homes for their results, for the outcome of this massive campaign.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Despite the persistent loss of civil liberties over the years, the people had not been prepared for the government¡¯s next step. As a large number of the results were being compiled, and the state-owned scientists and decision makers came up with a finite way of analyzing results, the government came forward with a new proclamation. Because of the serious and grave manner of this matter, every television had been turned to the same channel for the announcement, every web page redirected to the speech. All eyes were on the official that would dictate the direction of the future.


    No one is alive anymore that would have remembered that historic day near the middle of the century. Even with the increases in technology and advances in medicine, the life expectancy was still not long enough for any of those to still be around. I imagine, though, that every person that was alive to view that fateful speech remembered exactly where they were when it aired for the rest of their lives. I am told that many alive during major terrorist attacks had a similar recollection, but I have had no such comparable experience.


    That day the government came forward and announced that anyone that was shown possessed MAOA and CDH13 on those genetic tests would be isolated from the population. Those that exhibited these genes, regardless of whether or not they had a criminal record or a history of violent behavior, would be removed to facilities where they could not harm the public. It was too great a risk to leave these ¡®ticking time bombs¡¯ among the people. No one wanted another mass shooting, a public bombing, murder and rape in their town, their state, their country. This, like every other law and decree, was for the protection of the people. Never before in the history of man had they been able to detect and isolate the cause of violence in humanity as they could now. This was a turning point for the human race.


    The government announced that they would not release the results of the tests to the individuals because there was too great of a concern for flight risks and violent outbursts. The affected would be quietly met at their homes by law enforcement officials and escorted to secure facilities. Those with no criminal record, of course, would be separate from those who had knowingly committed any crimes. These people were, in a way, still innocent. They did not belong in prisons with the convicts. There was no need for anyone to panic because their loved ones would be well taken care of and comfortable. This was what was needed to end the violence, to create a better tomorrow, to protect their children and offer them a brighter future.


    While there were many that went quietly when the authorities showed up to collect them, many resisted, many ran. There were no longer guns or any other type of weapon in residential homes, but that did not stop people from taking up baseball bats, kitchen knives, or anything they could fashion into a temporary weapon in an attempt to resist apprehension. Soon riot teams and the military were brought on to round up the affected. The government announced that this was to be expected from those that had been diagnosed, that this validated these measures. Was this the kind of violent behavior the people wanted living in wait among them? In a matter of months, families had been broken apart, and most of the affected escorted to the secure facilities. Everything began to quiet down again.


    At first, the detained were allowed to write letters home to their families and friends with assurances of their health and comfort. Despite the advances in technology and communications, they were only allowed a simple pencil and pen. When families started noticing abnormalities in their beloveds¡¯ word choice and speech, they would contact the facilities about their well-being. Visitation had already been prohibited, and the officials assured the families that this was just a sign of their loved ones¡¯ true nature finally taking hold. After many letters, phone calls, and reassurances, families stopped trying to make contact. A sort of peace settled over communities in a way it never had before. With time the memories and trauma faded, or at least that is what people told one another.


    This was the new normal.

 Chapter 1

    My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, blocking out everything else.  I could not even tell if the officer was still after me, it was so deafening.  That coupled with my attempts to keep my panting quiet were enough to hold my attention, so I hoped I had at least lost him for a moment.  Otherwise, there was a very good chance he would catch me unawares and without having caught my breath.  My hands were like claws on my crouched legs as I fought to gain control of my senses.


    After what felt like a millennia, my hearing started to return and I was able to breathe normally again, so I steeled myself to slowly peer around the corner of the cement building I was crouched up against to look for any sign of the officer.  All I could see were several rusting chemical barrels lying on their sides, a crooked chain link fence and tall, yellowed grass swaying in the wind in the overgrown field beyond that.  The officer was nowhere to be seen.  Aside from me, the place looked completely abandoned, the way I preferred it.


    With a quiet sigh, the tension left my shoulders, and I relaxed back against


    the cold wall.  For once I was in for a small bit of good luck.  Usually their pursuits lasted longer than this.  This must be a particularly green officer, maybe he was even on his first day.  With a small snort in way of a laugh, I thought of how much flack he would get from the rest of the officers back at the station for letting me slip away.  Being the new guy, they would expect as much anyways.


    Noticing the low angle of the sun despite my preoccupation and hiding spot among several two-story buildings, I realized it was getting late.  I would need to return home soon or everyone would begin to think the worst.  Pushing up and away from the chill side of the building, I started walking down the side of the what had been my hiding place.  The abandoned chemical processing plant had saved my hide many times before and had once again proven useful.  Despite having been abandoned and long since forgotten by the public, I appreciated it.  We had a lot in common, the chemical plant and I.


    Hand trailing along the rough cement and mind in the clouds, I did not notice the officer until he had grabbed the sleeve of my much-worn jacket.  He yanked me behind the rusted barrel he had been crouched behind and threw me roughly to the ground.  I lessened the impact with my hands, but I was now stuck on the ground while the officer had the advantage of standing.


    My earlier thoughts could not have been further from the truth.  I had fallen right into the trap this vile man had laid for me.  How could I have fallen for this?  I had been outrunning dimwits like this for years now.  I cursed myself for being so careless.  Clearly this one was not quite as dumb as some of the others had been.  I guess, rather than a dimwit, I would have to call him a halfwit.  Maybe the government decided to be a little more generous with their wit allotments when they made this one.


    The officer appeared to be around forty with short salt and pepper hair, a little older than most officers usually ran.  His perfect teeth showed from behind a disgusted sneer, his almond eyes peering at me with an even stronger look of disgust.  Oddly, it struck me that his eyes were the exact same color of dung beetles.  I suppose I could have compared the brown to essentially anything else, but the connotation seemed to fit with his seemingly crappy personality.  In the hand that had not grabbed me was gripped a black government issued pistol.  Awesome.  He was armed.  Today kept getting better.


    ¡°I had a feeling that you would fall for that little trick, missy.  You affected all think you are so clever, that your genes give you some sort of an edge.  Luckily that same hubris that is part of your ¡®diagnosis¡¯ is also your achilles and the trick to catching you.¡±


    He sneered from his position looming over me, gesturing to something behind me with the gun.  ¡°Get up and start walking towards that out building.  The van is parked on the far side.  Don¡¯t even think of trying anything, or I will not hesitate to put a bullet through your psychopathic little brain.¡±


    With the sweetest smile I could muster, I said ¡°Do you always prey on teenage girls, or am I special?¡±  I smiled even broader as I slowly got to my feet, keeping both of my hands visible.  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Little old me?  What could a five foot two eighteen year old do to a big, strapping government officer like yourself?  You are the one with a gun.  I do not have anything on me, see?¡±  I raised my hands to show that I had nothing stuck in my jeans.


    ¡°Do not try that shit with me, missy!  Manipulation is another indicator of your condition!¡± He barked, a little spit flying from his mouth, like a dog eager to bite someone¡¯s head off.


    ¡°Some people still even find a way to feel bad for your type - the ones that even think about you, that is.  The truth is you are vermin, scum from a time almost forgotten.  If it were not for the few hidy-holes and infestations of you left, we would have a perfect world,¡± he said, starting forward.


    ¡°Get moving!¡±


    I dropped the smile from my face and slowly turned around, walking in the direction of the building he had mentioned.  This was bad, really really bad.  This one did not have any compassion like some of the other officers did.  He also was not nearly as gullible as the others had been.  Damn.  Too bad he had not been on of those greenies or dimwits.  I had to actually give some props to Officer Halfit; I was not usually caught this easily.


    As we came around the outbuilding and the white transport van came into site, I noticed the pigeons flying around.  One of them, having not noticed our approach, coasted into a landing, alighting on an old piece of rebar on the ground.  Shabaam!  That was it!  I just had to get a little bit closer¡­


    I turned my head to glance over my shoulder, winking at the officer.  ¡°Are you sure there isn¡¯t something we can work out here?  You don¡¯t have a wedding band on.  Perhaps you are a little¡­.lonely?¡± I said in what I hoped sounded like a seductive tone, slowly angling our trajectory towards the piece of rebar.  ¡°I could keep you company for a little bit.¡±


    ¡°Ha!  Like I would ever even consider it.  You may have big green eyes and pretty blonde hair, but I know what is inside you, missy.  As much as you look regular, I know what you really are,¡± he ranted, unwittingly angling in the direction I wanted him to.


    ¡°Your kind actually is lesser.  Now we know it is not race, culture, or ethnicity that makes a person superior, but our genetic perfection over the likes you!  Even if I were the last man on Earth and you the last girl, I would never sink that low!¡±


    With his last exclamation, we had walked within reach of the rebar.  I lunged, scraping my hand and forearm on the faded asphalt as I grabbed my makeshift weapon.  Turning mid-lunge, I wildly struck out with the jagged piece of metal, hoping to make contact with the officer.  The sharp end got under the open corner of his black leather jacket, and I felt resistance as it pushed into the flesh right under his rib cage.  It was on the same side he carried his gun, so the pistol fell from his grasp as his hand reached for the wound.


    I struggled to get my feet underneath me without pulling the rebar out of his stomach, but his callused hand grabbed the weapon as I found my balance, ripping it from my hands.  The blow, however, was more serious than he realized at first, and he dropped to his knees, blood darkening his light-grey shirt.  Before he could pull himself together and come after me again, I took off running as fast as my feet would carry me not, not caring where I was headed as long as it was far away from him.


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    The sun had fallen well below the horizon when I finally decided it was safe enough to stop to catch my breath and figure out where I was.  Because of how easily I had been followed the first time I had that thought today, I made sure I had gone what I gauged was several miles as fast as I could before indulging in such a luxury again.  Luckily, years of constantly running for my life had me conditioned to this kind of exertion.  Running had turned into my greatest weapon against the officers.  Even if I had no guns, knives or blunt objects to lash out at any attackers, I always had my feet to carry me away from them.


    Hands on knees, I took in my surroundings as my breathing returned to normal.  Luckily, I had instinctually ran towards home, although be it by a more circuitous route so as not to lead any followers straight there.  It had become second nature after years of taking indirect routes.  The glen I found myself in had to be no more than a mile away.  I would recognize it anywhere with its tall pines and singular Japanese maple that had somehow made it out to the middle of nowhere Utah.  How the thing survived the winter cold here was a mystery.  I pat its silver bark in a silent thank you for the landmark.


    Now that I was out of immediate danger, the pain in my hand and arm was started to become noticeable.  The scrape was pretty deep on my pinky and the side of my hand, but it was not so bad on my forearm.  The sleeve of my jacket had only slid up a little bit, so the scrape was not very long or deep.  Scrubbing the gravel out of this was not going to be pleasant, but at least I had managed to escape.  I would take this over being thrown into one of the secure facilities any day of the week.  Heck, I would take it every day of the week if it meant staying out of those places.


    Pulling my sleeve down, I started through the glen towards home with nothing but the crickets and a warm summers night to keep me company.  This quiet, this freedom, meant everything to me.  They would have to kill me before I would consider giving it up.