Reese read the last lines repeatedly because he was sure there’d been a typographical error, but analysis of the molecular structure backed up the claim.
Reese scrolled down. The same anomaly had been found in the tissue Markus collected in Egypt when researching mummified remains for the country’s government.
Reese sat back in his chair.
Transposable DNA that redesigned genes found in tissue samples from all over the world. But not in numbers suggesting the information had been collected by sifting through millions of individuals, but in a way that suggested Echols had some idea what part of the population he should sample in a region.
And what made Echols even look? The man was a physicist, not a geneticist. Something like this was more of Markus’s expertise, but Reese wasn’t sure even he would have made the connection unless he’d had a reason.
Reese needed to call Phillips, but then he’d wind up answering her questions all night or suffering an invasion when she sent a military operation to extract him from his house. If he waited till morning, at least he’d get one last night where he tossed and turned in his bed before he spent several days trapped in an interrogation room.
Or if she was in a generous mood, a week or more shut up in one of those fucking travel trailers the military seemed to favor wherever they set up operations for any length of time.
Reese dragged himself from the kitchen table he’d recruited into being a desk. His lower back creaked, and a burning ache ran from his hip down the back of his thigh.
He needed to see about getting his office chair moved into his house. More government property, but Reese knew Phillips would jump at the opportunity to get one more grain of productivity from him.
Maybe if he whined a little, he could convince her he needed a nice Kuiter’s Leopard Wrasse to add to his tank to reduce the stress of staying up hours on end plowing through—
The screen on the laptop dimmed, the screen saver kicked in, and a double helix spun into infinity.
A couple of hours ago, he would have called everything that came to him from those New World servers crap. He had called it crap.
But now?
Fuck, he really needed to call Phillips.
Reese took his phone out of his pocket.
The heat clicked off.
The grandfather clock next to his aquarium ticked.
The pump under the aquarium stand hummed.
Reese’s pulse whooshed through his ears before falling into the background.
Compulsion led him to the picture window.
Porch lights edged the neighbor’s front yard. Leaves skittered from one shadow to the next.
There were no lights in the wide stretch of lawn and Reese’s rows of flower beds. He still hadn’t replanted the petunias destroyed by the helicopter landing in his yard when the US Army showed up at his door, requesting his help.
He’d meant to replace them weeks ago. Even saved coupons for discounts on fertilizer and mulch. Then the weather got colder, the rain more frequent, and deciphering the mess New World left behind gobbled up whatever spare bits of free time he had.
The shadows between the trees shifted with the wind. Just empty spaces filled with night, nothing more.
Yet…
Reese leaned closer and his exhale fogged the glass.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Something’s out there.
And why would Reese think that?
“Sleep deprivation, that’s all it is.” Reese pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. “I mean, look how many hours of sleep you get a night.” He checked the time. “Two a.m., no wonder you’re seeing things and talking to yourself and talking to yourselfaboutseeing things. Fuck.” But Reese couldn’t step away from the window. “Pretty sure there’s some Benadryl with your name on it.” A weight settled in his stomach. “Two of those, you’ll sleep like a rock, plus your allergies won’t be an issue.” The ache in his shoulder beat louder. “Still talking to yourself, still running your mouth, Dr. Dante. What the hell are you—”