“Hello?”
“Samantha! Hi, this is Dr. Souza.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Souza. Rachel Souza. I’m calling about my animals.”
It took a moment to make the connection. “Oh, Rachel. Yes! How are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Did you make the pickup?”
“Yes, we did. And I’m glad you called. I’m afraid we’re having some issues. Some rather serious issues.”
“Like what?”
“Dr. Souza, it appears some of the animals are suffering from an as-yet-unknown condition.”
“What symptoms are you seeing?”
“Your pig, dog, and chimpanzee are experiencing symptoms consistent with hypothermia. But we’re not sure that’s what it actually is. Is there anything you know about what might be causing this?”
The sound of percolating coffee began to fade as the last of the dark liquid filled the small glass pot. The old coffee maker was decades old but still working. Faithfully pumping out caffeinated energy day in and day out.
The pot was then lifted, and a third of its vital contents poured into a ceramic mug, before it returned to the hot plate. From there, the mug was carried out of a small, barren kitchenette and back across a carpeted office floor. And upon reentering the office, raised and sipped from by the man holding it.
Something caught the analyst’s attention. Not from the mug but from the opposite side of his office. A small flashing icon in the bottom right-hand corner of his large monitor. An exclamation point, flashing on and off in bright red.
Curious, the analyst continued across the room, where he set the coffee down and lowered himself back into the faded chair.
He double-clicked the icon, then selected the short alphanumeric code displayed, which opened another window, revealing multiple phone numbers. Next to them were listed the date, time, and duration of each call in seconds. And ultimately, a location.
The man immediately called the number of the new cell phone he’d given to Liam Duchik.
The analyst listened quietly as it began ringing, wondering if the man had bothered to turn it on yet, but his question was answered when Duchik picked up. “What is it?”
“It’s me.”
“You have the location of the trucks?”
“Not yet. But I may have something better.”
The analyst copied the coordinates and pasted them into an online map. Watching as it automatically zoomed in and scrolled to the exact location.
“You requested, among other things, to have all phone numbers in and out of your building’s location for the last two weeks marked.”
“Correct.”
“I think we just got a hit.” The analyst began scanning a window of log data. “One of the numbers that recently called in to your lab has just been contacted by an untraceable phone. It may be nothing, but…”
“Who did they call?”
There was a pause while he looked it up. “The marked number belongs to the Association of Zoos and Aquariums.”
“What the hell is that?”
“I’m looking.” The analyst brought up their website and began reading. “Says it’s a nonprofit dedicated to the advancement of zoos and aquariums in the areas of conservation, education, science, and recreation. Lots of locations around the country.” He continued reading. “Says they also help facilitate the transporting of animals…”
“Say again?”
“Which part?”
“The last line.”
The analyst read again. “… ‘assists in the safe transportation of animals between various entities, both private and public’…”
Duchik’s voice growled, “Who called them?”
“No idea. As I said, it looks like another burner phone.”
“Can you locate its position?”
“I think so. The signal seems to be stationary. As in not moving.”
Still on the phone and standing in an empty parking lot, Rachel wavered at Samantha Reed’s veiled accusation. How could she possibly explain? That the animals had been part of an experiment, frozen solid, and then revived. Brought back to life in order to study biological effects on them.
She went with the most expedient answer. She lied. “No, nothing that would explain hypothermia or anything like it. Can you tell me exactly what symptoms you’re seeing?”
“The standard things,” replied Reed. “Shivering, shaking limbs, confusion. But the weird thing is…”
“What?” said Rachel when the woman’s voice momentarily faded. “What is weird?”
“It’s their body temperature. We cannot get their core temperatures up, even with heating blankets. No matter what we try. It’s almost … like their thermogenesis is simply not working.”
Thermogenesis was the fundamental molecular process responsible for generating a body’s internal combustion. In essence, its metabolism. Otherwise known as body heat. By way of the system’s constant cellular operations, from things like muscles, or organs, or the brain.
“We’re doing what we can,” said Reed. “But it’s not encouraging.”
Rachel pictured Bella and felt sick all over again. The small white dog that couldn’t wait to see her every morning. And Lester. And Otis—
“Wait,” she suddenly said. “You said the dog, the pig, and the chimpanzee.”
“That’s right.”
“What about the capuchin?” Dallas.
“So far, the capuchin seems fine. He hasn’t shown any of the signs.”
Rachel’s brain began racing. Rewinding. Trying to remember all the details of the testing. And more specifically, the timeline. Dallas, the capuchin, was tested before Otis, the larger chimpanzee. But by how much? At that point, they knew the Machine worked. They were then just searching for issues as they moved to larger and larger animals. More biologically complex animals.
“Dr. Souza, are you there?”
“Yes. I am. Sorry. I was just…” She continued thinking. “Where are they now?”
“At the Phoenix Zoo. We have a full medical facility there. If there’s anyone who can—”
“I can be there in three hours.” Rachel looked up from her conversation at Waterman, Reiff, and Yamada, all standing and waiting near the truck, and remembered where they were headed. “Make that four hours.”
“Uh, sure, if you think you can help.”
“I’m sure I can,” she lied again. “Just keep them alive until I get there.”
“Dr. Souza, we’re doing all we can.”
She did not hear Reed’s final words. Instead, she hung up and stared absently at the men. Before walking forward to rejoin them.
“Well?” asked Waterman.
“They’re at the Phoenix Zoo,” she said. “And alive. But first, Masten.”
The analyst had a live satellite feed onscreen. Using GPS coordinates to locate the parking lot. “I have them,” he announced. “The call just ended, but I have a visual on one of the trucks.” He then watched quietly as the dark vehicle began moving, making a small circle before exiting the lot. Heading back toward the highway, where it veered onto an on-ramp.
He relayed to Duchik. “They’re headed north, back toward Kingman.”
“Good. Don’t lose them.”
Duchik pulled the phone away from his ear and muted the call. Simultaneously extracting his other phone and dialing. A voice answered immediately.
“Head for Kingman.”