"All the signs of aging," Chris said.
"Yes. Tabulone seems to have reversed the process. I don't think he'll turn into a juvenile again, but the stuff's kicked him back a few years. My guess is that it will stabilize as with the mice."
Chris was stunned. They just hadn't noticed the effect in the mice.
Not only did Elixir prolong life, it had some initial rejuvenating effects.
Even more bizarre, several witnesses say that before the strange affliction, Quinn looked thirty years younger than his age.
My God! thought Chris, It's what took hold of Dexter.
He had a damaged heart which he knew would kill him soon. Maybe on an impulse he'd tried it on himself and experienced a backward thrust like Jimbo. It must have been like nothing else he had ever experienced. Nothing out of a medicine jar or syringe. The ultimate high: the fires of spring redux.
Betsy Watkins, who had a reputation for being a no-nonsense researcher rarely given to superlatives, was also amazed. "Tabulone appears to restore the DNA to effect a kind of cellular retrogression. I've seen nothing like it before. I don't think anyone has. It's nothing short of a miracle."
"Does Ross know?" Chris asked.
"Yes, he does." Around the corner came Quentin. He was beaming. "The real question is, What's the next step?"
Chris could smell alcohol on his breath and it wasn't even noon. What Quentin really wanted to know was when they could file application with the FDA. "I think we're talking a few years."
"Years? Why so long? I mean, you've got a monkey who's regressed a decade. We should be thinking about moving on to human subjects and all."
"We have protocol to follow. You know that," Betsy said incredulously. "Disconnect these animals, and they'll die."
"Don't disconnect them and they'll go on forever."
Betsy began to laugh, but caught herself because Quentin was perfectly serious. "Quentin, this is a compound that will make you die of old age on the spot if you overdose or underdose. It's hardly ready for human trial."
"Betsy, we supply most hospitals and clinics with Proctizam which is highly toxic."
"Proctizam is an experimental drug for cancer patients near death," Betsy shot back.
"So is Elixir! There are people who would pay dearly to have it the way it is, with all the risks."
Chris could feel the others stiffen. It wasn't just that they were dedicated university scientists not used to corporate bullying. They couldn't quite believe Quentin's suggestion. It bordered dangerously on blind desperation.
"Quentin," Betsy said, "speculation like that is not within the interests of any responsible pharmaceutical company."
Quentin's face flushed as if it had been slapped. He sucked in his breath and recomposed himself. "Well, let's just say I'm getting a tad frustrated. We've got too many important people invested in this project who don't want to wait a bunch of years to see this go to market. If you'll excuse me."
And he walked away, leaving the others wondering what that was all about.
9
"I think your sister's a little paranoid." What Chris really meant was that she was getting wackier. "She carried on about the evils of the modern world for half an hour."
It was a few days later, and Jenny had flown in for a quick visit. After driving her to the airport he had returned home to work with Wendy on the nursery. Pressure from Quentin had him working long days so he almost forgot how good it was to share time with her. Presently he was hanging wallpaper while she was putting up curtains.
"She can get like that. I wonder what set her off?"
"A radio report about drugs at some junior high. She carried on like the Antichrist was dealing in every schoolyard in the country. No wonder Kelly's so screwed up."
"Chris, Jenny's a great mother. She gave up a nursing career for Kelly. Nobody could have predicted her problems."
"Well, she's trying to make up for them with Abigail. The kid's a year old, and she's already thinking about home schooling."
"Maybe it's second motherhood. She's determined to make this one work."
So are we, Chris thought. The old wound was healing. Wendy was loving the prospect of motherhood. And with it, they had moved closer over the months. It was like going back in time themselves, happy in love all over again.
Last month they had learned that their baby would be a boy. So Chris hung paper with sailboats on a field of blue, while Wendy made nautical curtains. They bought a new crib and set up a bookcase with a collection of kiddie stories, a Jack-in-the-box, and a few stuffed animals including a big goofy Garfield cat.
"It's costing her and Ted a fortune," he said.
While shopping yesterday, Jenny had spent hundreds of dollars on toys including an inlaid pearl music box that played "Frere Jacques." While he was fond of Jenny, he worried about her influence on Wendy. It wasn't just the mood swings or neatness obsession. It was her hangups. Some people got worked up over the Russians, others the environment. For Jenny it was how our culture killed childhood innocence. At the slightest provocation, she'd hold forth on the usual demons-drugs, rock and roll, alcohol, TV violence-and how kids didn't have a chance to be kids anymore. Wendy didn't need that kind of talk. It was hard enough to get her to decide to have another child without the hyped-up ravings.
Wendy returned from the other room. "Did you see Kelly's photo-the one at her fifth birthday? It was sitting with the others in the office." She wanted to group early family shots on a shelf in the nursery.
"No."
"That's odd, it's missing."
"Maybe Jenny took it."
"But she would have said something."
"Unless she had one of her spells." Jenny was known to have moments of confusion-vestiges of childhood schizophrenia that slipped through the medication.
"I'll ask her," Wendy said vaguely. She had hung up a watercolor of children at a yellow beach against a sunlit ocean. "What do you think?"
Chris came over and put his arm around her. "Looks good."
"Hey, why don't we go away someplace tropical-just the two of us, before I'm too big to fit on a plane."
"Like where?"
"Anywhere as long as it's romantic and far from mass spectrometers and rhesus macaques."
"No such place," he grinned.
"That's the problem. You spend more time with your monkeys than you do with me. I'm starting to feel like Jane in the Tarzan movies."
He laughed and gave her a squeeze. The suggestion was wonderful. The tough part was finding the time. He would check the lab schedule to see when he could take off a week. "Sure."
"Good. Maybe Jamaica or Barbados -someplace with beaches, palm trees, and a big double bed."
"You have no shame," he said.
"How would you know?"
He could see the glint in her eyes. He kissed her lips. Instantly his body flooded with warmth as she flicked her tongue in his mouth and ground her hips against him. "I'll never kiss Jimbo again."
She laughed and pulled him to the couch. In a moment he was naked and lying across the cushions, an erection poking in the air.
"You're obscene," she said, slipping out of her pants.
"I hope five minutes from now you still think so."
For a moment Wendy's face clouded over as something rippled through her. "Everything will be all right, won't it?"
There it was again, the old wound that just wouldn't heal. In a flash all defenses had dropped.
"Of course, it will. He'll be fine. We'll all be fine." He held out his hand to hers.
The moment passed, and she smiled again.
Her breasts were beginning to swell, and her belly looked as if she had swallowed a football. She climbed onto the couch and straddled him. "Ever do it with an old heifer?"
"Always a first time for everything."
"You're supposed to say you're not old or heiferey."