Warren Murphy: Deadly Genes

Some of the reporters recoiled, thinking that they might have been touching a relative of the snake. "Yes, the snake," Dr. White repeated, relishing perhaps a bit too much their discomfort. "It can go for as long without food as it can without water. And we can thank above all else the brilliant minds here at BostonBio for bringing everything together in that one, dumpy, pathetic, world-saving animal."

She gestured grandly to the BBQ. As if in response, the animal burped loudly. Eyes hooded morosely, it began languidly chewing its cud.

"One of those brilliant minds being yours, no doubt," the female reporter snipped sarcastically.

"Yes, actually," Dr. White admitted. "This is my project. From start to finish."

The reporter smiled tautly. "Would it cripple your genius ego to learn that this is a nonstory?"

Dr. White seemed stunned. "What?" she demanded.

"Well, this is Boston after all," the reporter replied with confident pride. "We're pretty used to scientific breakthroughs around here. Maybe if you could slap a saddle on that thing and take some kids for BBQ rides around Boston Common, maybe then it'd get on the news. You know, human interest and all. As it is it's all kind of ho-hum."

"Ho-hum?" Dr. White asked, stunned.

"Sorry," the reporter said with a superior smirk. Turning, she began looping the cord from her microphone around her long slender hand.

"You stupid, stupid bitch," Dr. White muttered, head bowed. She said it so softly few people heard the words.

"What?" asked the reporter blandly. She was handing her mike off to her segment producer.

"You stupid, fat, empty-headed, gluttonous cow!"

She moved so quickly no one could stop her. In an instant, Dr. White had sprung across the brief space separating her from the reporter. The gathered press blinked at the image. It was as if she had gone from one spot to the next instantaneously.

One strong hand grabbed the reporter by the throat. The other hand swung around and cuffed the reporter in the side of her softly bleached head.

"Stupid, fat cow!" Dr. Judith White growled. The reporter blinked in uncomprehending pain. A glimmer of fear registered in the back of her eyes as she watched Dr. White bring her hand back once more. The scientist's teeth were bared maniacally. More hands suddenly reached around, grabbing Dr. White, holding her arms, preventing her from striking out again. Men in white lab coats tried to drag her away from the female reporter. Struggling in a blind rage, she seemed to hold them off for a moment. All at once, the fight seemed to drain from her, and she allowed herself to be pulled backward.

The reporter staggered back, as well. She fell into the concerned arms of her segment producer. "You-you're insane!" she stammered, panting. She felt the side of her head where the blow had registered. Her fingers came back smeared red. A trickle of blood seeped from her thin blond hairdo. It rolled down one overly made-up cheek.

"I'm bleeding!" the reporter shrieked. She wheeled on Dr. White. "You crazy animal, you mauled me!"

Dr. White was amid a protective gaggle of her subordinates at BostonBio. Some had released their grip on her; others still held her arms. She took several deep, steadying breaths.

"I'm fine," she assured her lab team. Hesitantly, the last few men let go of her arms.

"You are not fine!" the reporter screamed. "You're a psycho! This is unbelievable!" Her cameraman had found a clean handkerchief. She pressed it to the wound above her left ear.

Dr. White closed her eyes, patient once more. "This is all an unfortunate misunderstanding," she said slowly.

"What, you didn't just attack me?" the reporter screeched. She waved the bloody handkerchief at the rest of the gathered reporters. "You're all witnesses! I'm suing this whack job's psycho ass! I'm suing BostonBio! I'm going to own you, lady!" she yelled at Judith White.

Flinging the handkerchief at the feet of Dr. White, the reporter spun on her heel. She shoved her way past her producer and her cameraman, storming out into the hallway. She was followed by the rest of the Boston press corps.

Dr. White was left alone with her staff. No one said a word for a long time. The men remained around her, seeming to not want to disturb a single molecule in the room lest they stoke the ire of their famously volatile boss. At long last, it was Judith White herself who broke the silence.

"Well, that could have gone better," she commented softly. She pushed through the group of men, walking across the lab to her private office. She closed the door so gently it made the rest of the scientific team jump.

TEN HOURS LATER, Judith White quietly shut off the small television that rested on a shelf in her laboratory office. She tossed the remote control to her desktop, where it landed with a loud plastic clatter.

They'd ripped her to shreds. One of the stations had even gotten the assault on video.

She had not yet heard from her superiors at BostonBio, but it went without saying that they would not endorse her conduct. This was supposed to be the company's shining moment, and her temper had completely overshadowed the great press announcement. It was now unlikely that the networks would pick up the story. And even if they did, the story would feature a sensationalized look at Dr. Judith White herself and not her magnificent Bos camelus-whitus.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Judith muttered. The lab beyond was dark and empty. No one heard her words of self-recrimination.

Judith reached to her waist. She found a set of keys on a retractable cord. Pulling one free of the rest, she inserted it into the lock of a side desk drawer.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she repeated as she pulled the drawer open. She let the keys jangle back up to her waist. They sounded like clattering dog tags.

Reaching into the drawer, she pulled out a black plastic box with both hands, resting it reverently on her desk blotter.

She lifted the lid, revealing a soft foam interior. It was a drab gray and fashioned in the uneven eggcarton design. A series of vials rested in the box.

Judith removed one of the vials. It had a waxy corking substance in one end. The brown-tinged liquid in the vial appeared to be gelatinous.

With her free hand, she found a plastic bag containing an ordinary syringe inside the same drawer the box had been stored in. Tearing open the plastic with her teeth, she thrust the business end of the needle through the cork on the vial. She drew the viscous substance into the syringe.

Redepositing the half-empty vial inside the case, Judith rolled up the sleeve of her lab coat. She found a nice, fat blue vein at the crook of her arm and without a second's hesitation thrust the needle into it.

She depressed the stopper and watched carefully as every last drop of the gelatin substance disappeared from the clear syringe.

Quickly, Dr. White pulled the needle loose, dropping it inside the case. She flipped the lid closed and sat back in her chair, waiting for blissful nirvana.

The rush hit more quickly this time than last. She shivered from the sudden cold. Her arms drew up tightly beside her body in spastic reaction. Everything-her eyes, her hair, her toenails--everything trembled wildly as the frigid sensation passed through her system like a melting glacier.

She could feel it. Could feel the raw sensation of fresh, surging power. The special treatments she had been giving herself made her feel invincible.

Judith White knew that she was almost there. She had more than touched the plain; she had crossed it. It was only a matter of stabilizing what she now felt. And she knew that moment was almost here.

She never wanted to come down. A crash.

Sudden. Shocking.

Not from the euphoria she now felt. The noise was real. Out beyond the lab.