He hurriedly scanned both Kira and himself, along with their phones and other personal items. Everything was clean. He checked carefully around Kira’s bandage for any signals but detected none.
They cautiously exited the house, wishing they had night vision equipment as they made their way through the darkness, punctuated by the lights from other houses in the neighborhood. Several streets over Desh found an old car that was susceptible to being hot-wired and quickly did so, performing the procedure by the dim light of his open cell phone. He was just pulling away from the curb when—like a hundred billion rubber bands snapping back into their original shape—his hyper-intelligence vanished.
Desh gasped out loud as if he had been hit in the stomach.
Kira glanced at him and nodded knowingly. “Welcome back to the world of the feeble-minded.”
He wore an expression of complete disconsolation. “I feel like I’ve just been blinded,” he whispered
She nodded. “Ten minutes from now it will all seem like a dream and you won’t miss it so much.”
Desh searched his memory. Had he retained anything? He was relieved to find that several of the ideas he had had while enhanced were still with him, although the underlying logic he had used to arrive at these concepts was either gone or far beyond his ability to comprehend. Desh forced himself to stop pining for lost brilliance. Time was short.
He gasped again!
He had remembered yet another surprising conclusion reached by his super intelligent alter ego: he was in love with Kira Miller.
“What is it?” asked Kira anxiously.
Desh turned to her. He looked into her dazzling blue eyes, and now that his alter ego had shined a spotlight on his emotions he realized it was true: he was in love. Or infatuated at any rate. His entire being basked in her presence. She was like a drug to which he had become hopelessly addicted without his knowledge or consent. The rewards of breathless intellect were great, but the primitive lizard brain manufactured rewards of its own. “Nothing,” whispered Desh. “Sorry.”
Kira looked puzzled but let the subject drop.
Desh knew he could continue to gaze at her beautiful face forever. She truly was an extraordinary woman. But now was not the time to give into these irrational impulses. Now was the time to focus on one thing only: survival.
Desh tore his eyes away from her and focused on the road. “How’s your head?” he asked worriedly.
“It’s getting better,” she said unconvincingly.
Desh suspected she was lying but decided to leave the subject alone. “It won’t be long before Sam discovers what happened at the safe house and points a satellite this way,” he said. “So in the immediate term, we have to get as far away from this spot as possible.” As if to emphasize his point he stepped hard on the accelerator.
“And the not so immediate term?”
“We need to elevate our game. It’s time for more desperate measures. And for that we need Connelly.”
In response, Kira pulled out her cell phone, the partner to the one she had given Connelly, and flipped it open.
“You’re certain the signal can’t be unscrambled?” said Desh.
“Absolutely positive,” she confirmed. She hit a speed dial button and handed the phone to Desh.
The colonel answered on the first ring and they exchanged greetings.
“What the hell happened to you two?” asked Connelly worriedly.
Desh frowned. “Sorry about the radio silence. We ran into trouble but we’re clear now—as far as we know. Assume this is a private channel. What’s your status?”
“We’re still with my doctor friend at his house,” reported Connelly immediately. “I’ve been patched up and filled with blood and pain-killers. I’ve gotten plenty of sleep and am recovering nicely. And Matt has brought me up to speed on events.”
“Understood,” said Desh. “I now have a much clearer picture of what we’re dealing with than I had when we separated. I’ll brief you further as soon as I can. Bottom line is that I’m now absolutely convinced Kira is innocent and an ally. But a lot of really bad shit is about to happen if we don’t move quickly.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough to make me wish for the original Ebola plot you told me about.” He didn’t wait for the colonel’s reply. “The soldiers in the clearing were told you’d gone rogue. Was it just these men who were misinformed, or is it more widespread?”
“It probably wasn’t initially, but it sure is now. They’ve poisoned the entire well. The military is convinced I’m a traitor and will do whatever is necessary to bring me down.”
“Understood,” said Desh. “You trusted this doctor with your life. Anyone at Bragg you would trust with your life who can fly a chopper; and has access?”
Connelly considered. “Yes.”
Desh sighed. “Let me put this another way. Anyone at Bragg who would trust you with their life. Someone who will believe you’ve been framed and will risk their career and life to stick by you.” Moriarty would have made sure the misinformation he had put out to frame Connelly had been devastating and airtight. It would take quite a man to put the trust of a friend over damning information put forth by the highest levels of legitimate military authority.
There was a long pause. “I’m as sure as I can be,” replied Connelly. “But I guess we’re going to find out,” he added evenly.
“Make sure to throw all the weaponry and any other military equipment you can find into the chopper before you leave,” said Desh. “We don’t know exactly what we’ll need, so the more the merrier.” He paused. “Not to put any added pressure on you,” continued Desh soberly, “but getting this chopper is mission critical. I’ll brief you fully when I see you, but trust me: the stakes couldn’t be any higher.”
“Understood,” said Connelly grimly.
“Good luck, Colonel,” said Desh. “Call me when you’re in the air and we can choose a rendezvous point.”
“Roger that,” said Connelly somberly as the connection ended.
David Desh found a main road and stayed on it for ten minutes until he located an all-night convenience store. A dented four-door Chrysler, filled with teenaged boys whose radio was blasting hip-hop at eardrum-crushing decibel levels, pulled out just as they arrived, leaving the lot empty.
They entered the deserted store. Kira hastily opened a bottle of the most potent pain pills she could find and quickly downed twice the recommended dosage. Desh bought a dozen glazed cake-donuts, each having the density of a neutron star. He finished eating two of the donuts before he had paid for them, wolfing them down as if his life were at stake. He desperately needed to replace the glucose his amped-up brain had devoured, and the speed with which a donut unleashed its glucose into the blood stream—its glycemic index—was legendary.
Desh continued cramming donuts into his mouth like a participant in a hot-dog eating contest as he drove, washing them down with the two quarts of Gatorade he had also purchased at the store. They had learned from the attendant that they were fifty miles east of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and they headed off in the direction of this city.
Given that Desh had now experienced her gene therapy, Kira was eager to compare notes with him. Before long the conversation turned to Desh’s theories on how her brain optimization could be safely used for the good of civilization, as well as conquering space so extended life could be introduced without threatening disaster.
Now Desh understood precisely what Kira had been afraid of and why she had sworn off her therapy. He had only undergone the treatment a single time, during which his boundless but ruthless intellect had already begun to crowd out much of his innate compassion, and his feelings of kinship with the rest of humanity and concern for human welfare had dramatically diminished.