Murder Genes (8 page)

"Don't worrey, I won't attack you," he said again.

She didn't reply, but she did lower the scalpel.
 
They dragged him away.
 
Jingle jingle.
 
What a twisted up place.

Gamer gave Jay a massive smile, freckles stretching and dimples puckering.
 
They were in some kind of "Throne Room," Karah had called it.

The throne was a crappy wooden chair.

Gamer sat on it poised like a Greek god, holding a rifle in his hand like a scepter.
 
Teeth strewn the ground around his feet and the skinny-boy Bitch stood to Gamer's side with arms crossed and a skullish smile on his face.

Jay grinned right back at Gamer.
 
That's right, I ain't playing.
 
He was feeling a little less weird, but there was still a buzz to his thoughts.

Gamer's gaze narrowed on the crushed bell.
 
He frowned.
 
He spoke to Karah, who'd led the way into the Throne Room.
 
"You told him the rules?"

"Yes Gamer, I told him the rules."
 
Karah bowed at Gamer.
 
Actually bowed.
 
It looked ridiculous, a full-grown woman bowing to a teenage boy.

"The punishment for your failure is one for one."
 
Gamer pointed to a small table to the side, where a small, round wooden object lay beside a mallet.
 
"Bob, it's your turn," Gamer said.

Bob, one of the several big men with red bands standing on the side wall, gave Gamer a delighted look.
 
He was missing more than half his teeth.
 
Jay then noticed that nearly every man showing teeth was missing at least a third of his.
 
It made sense, with all the teeth lying around, it had to come from somewhere.

Jay realized what Gamer was ordering.

"Nwo!" Jay yelled.
 
"Iz MUy faltt!"

But Karah walked obediently to the table where she pulled a cheek back, revealing a row of missing teeth, the empty space almost coming around to the vamp tooth.

Eager Bob took the mallet in one hand and put the end of the wooden piece against her back tooth.
 
Without warning, he slammed it hard with far more force than necessary.
 
Karah's head whipped back and hung in an extended position for seconds.
 
Her head slowly carried itself upright and she glared at Jay before spitting on the ground.
 
Bloody bits and a tooth.

"Huy Frekckles!" Jay yelled.
 
"Whyy ca..."

Gamer cut him off.
 
"The Game wasn't created by us in Morir."
 
He leaned forward and rested his chin on the barrel of the rifle.
 
Jay willed the trigger to magically pull and blow the kid's head off.
 
He actually willed it.
 
What kind of messed mind created this kind of world?
 
A world already damned enough on its own?

"The Game," Gamer continued, "was created by the government.
 
They set up the situation perfectly, putting the need and desire in all of us to survive, and then creating an environment of desperation so that we'd turn against each other and ultimately, create a system."
 
Gamer sighed.
 
"A system always forms when stress is put on an environment.
 
It's nature."

What are you talking about?
Jay thought.
 
You aren't even fighting the system, you're encouraging it.

"The Game is the ultimate system," Gamer said.
 
"If you don't follow the system, the system turns against you.
 
If you rebel against the system, there is consequence."

"Screw yew," Jay said.

Gamer nodded like he was accepting Jay's words.
 
"I follow the rules of the Game because it's my system, my genes.
 
The Game follows the rules of the government outside, to satisfy and confirm their suspicions, their
ego
, that we are no better than animals."
 
He chuckled.
 
"They're probably right.
 
And you," Gamer stopped, holding Jay in a sudden and emotionless stare, "are in MY system.
 
You obey the rules of our team.
 
For the good of the team, for the survival of the team.
 
Without cooperation in the team, we will lose to the other teams and the other Gamers.
 
We will die."

"Arn't yuu a althuthisthich bathdard."
 
Jay was going for 'altruistic bastard.'

Gamer stood up, holding the rifle.
 
Jay momentarily wondered where Gamer had gotten it.
 
He walked right up to Jay, putting it on Jay's forehead.
 
"Will you work in our system, for the good of our team?"

I have to survive, I have to survive, I have to survive for Kyle.
 
But the words that came out weren't about survival, they were about anger, injustice, and the hate he felt.
 
Maybe the guilt for killing Paul.
 
Regardless, it was fucking stupid.
 
"Goe two hellw," Jay said.

Gamer shrugged.
 
"All right, then.
 
We'll see you there."

This is it.
 
Jay closed his eyes.

Then ducked faster than he knew he could and smashed Gamer with a right hook.
 
The gun went off.
 
Jay's thoughts paused only long enough to realize he was still moving.
 
He lunged for the weapon.
 
Red-banded men caught his arms and twisted his shoulders till they popped in their sockets.

Gamer stumbled back.
 
He swung the butt of the gun in an enraged arc, smashing it to the side of Jay's head.
 
Jay's head exploded again, his teeth rattled, and the pain in his face and jaw multiplied.

His senses sharpened and the painkiller fuzziness faded all at once.

Jay dodged just in time.
 
Another gunshot and the bullet grazed his scalp.
 
Someone let out a scream nearby.

"Hold him!" Gamer yelled.

By now, five men were on Jay, and Jay wouldn't have been able to fall to the ground if he wanted to.
 
He struggled, but couldn't move.
 
Jay noticed the boy Bitch just watching him with a curious look, his head tilted to the side like he was observing an interesting puzzle.

Gamer took the gun in both hands and pointed it at Jay's chest.
 
"Die!" he snarled.

A voice interrupted.
 
"Give him a fucking chance, Gamer.
 
He's an idiot, but at least use him for something."
 
It was Karah.

Jay looked at her.
 
Are you saving my life?

Gamer's finger hovered on the trigger.
 
"You could take his place."

"I'm too valuable and you know it," she said.
 
"I've seen enough people to know that he's one that could matter.
 
For the team.
 
If any bondsman could make it, it's this dumb ass.
 
You just saw the way he moved.
 
And if you haven’t noticed, he's doped up."

Jay raised an eyebrow at her.
 
She ignored him, but her face looked disgusted.

Gamer just waited, his finger stroked the trigger.
 
"Are you asking me for a favor?" he finally said.

She crossed her arms.
 
Her eyes were rough and she tapped a foot, hesitating.
 
"Sure," she answered after a moment.

Gamer smirked and pulled the rifle away, straightening.
 
"Strap our new toy to his neck, we'll use him one way or another," he ordered.
 
"By the time I'm done, he better know the rules for the drop and the flags."

By the time you’re done?

Gamer walked over to Karah and spun her around, shoving her to her knees.
 
He took one hand and jerked at her jeans from the back.
 
It took two or three shoves, but he got it just low enough.
 
She wasn't wearing anything underneath.

If there is one thing about youth, it's that it doesn't take long to get hard as cement.
 
Gamer rode her like a horse, pulling on her breasts like fucking reins and whooping and slobbering on her back.
 
He withdrew suddenly, and then shoved forward again.
 
Karah let out a gasp and her face twisted in pain.

Jay looked away.

"Can't be getting you pregnant now can we?" Gamer's voice said.

Karah saved him for no reason he could guess.
 
Jay had to survive for Kyle, but this made him feel like just the opposite of a knight in shining armor.

He ground his teeth together, feeling the pain shoot through his face.
 
She'd bought him his life and a chance.
 
What was he going to say?
 
No?

The men watching jeered and jerked at their dicks until one of them realized they were supposed to be doing something.

Like tie a homemade bomb that blinked at regular intervals to Jay's neck.
 
They made sure that he understood the rules.

Problem was, Jay didn't listen so well.

Chapter 7

With the advent of the so-called "Entrepreneurial Gene," research to discover more about Behavioral Genetics and the possible manipulation of genetic factors of human behavior has taken the world by storm.
 
Between government-funded research and privatized humanitarian institutes, the discovery of several new and similar genes of behavior has changed the way we view fate and predestination.
 
Tradition religious organizations continue to oppose the scientific theories of Genetic Fatalism and the obvious question is being raised.
 
How far, really, is genetic code deterministic to our behavior?

Dear Churches:
 
Could it be that "born again Christians" are simply "born Christian?"

Tongue-in-cheek may not be as far-fetched as we imagine...

-Thallen, Tim.
 
"Genetic Fatalism: The Future of Science."
Nature
, Apr 03, 2014.

Kyle pretended to be interested in the toy action figure Del had bought him.
 
It was of an army soldier bulging with muscles without gun or grenade on him.
 
More of a 'weight lifter' figure than 'action' figure, really.
 

"Just sign it, Tim," Del said.

"You realize what you're asking me to do, don't you?"
 
Tim’s hand hovered over the piece of paper.
 
"If we're caught, forging medical records is the end of our careers."

Del's hands wrapped Tim's and gently lowered the pen to the page.
 
"We can have a son, now, without waiting years for an audit to come around again.
 
And you know that if you've been refused once, statistical chances of acceptance drops by eighty percent.
 
Even if they did say yes it'd take months of trying."

"But lying, Del."

"We wouldn't lie about anything else.
 
We found an abandoned child and rather than go to a shelter he wants to stay with us.
 
That's perfectly legal."
 
She stroked the hair over Tim's ear.
 

"What if he does have The Code?"

"We don't believe in The Code, remember?
 
Now they're saying that North Korea, the whole
country
, has The Code.
 
The UN wants to put a
country
into Morir.
 
A little suspicious, isn't it?
 
Since North Korea refused to cooperate and get tested--now everyone in that country is contaminated?
 
It was strange enough with how big they built Morir in the first place."

"Don't you think we should test him anyway?
 
Just to know?"

"He's a smart boy.
 
If we test him and he's clean, he'll believe we love him only because he's clean.
 
If he's not, how couldn't we treat him differently?
 
We had to test him but honestly don't care about the results?
 
We'd be lying to ourselves and to Kyle.
 
We love him because of who he is and not because of what's in his genes."

Kyle propped himself from the floor onto his elbows as he took the figure, twisting a leg forward to make the soldier run.
 
The leg came off with a sudden pop and Kyle sucked in his breath.
 
He hid the figure underneath his chest and tried to push the leg back into place, squeezing at the plastic futilely.