Peter Clement - Mutant

MUTANT [042-011-4.5] By: Peter Clement Duffy Category: fictionmedical Synopsis: Professor of geneticsKathleen Sullivan and disaffected agricultural executive Bob Morganoccupy opposing positions on the politics and safety ofinsufficiently tested GMF (genetically modified food). Theirs isn't just a publicrelations spat, especially when Taiwanese bird flu and police departmentsin Asia, the U.S." and France get involved. The stakes are high,and dead bodies are not unusual. Sullivan is convinced that twoagribusinesses are producing GMF and puts herself at risk to prove it. She and a facultycolleague, ER physician Richard Steele, join forces against the medicalschool administration and a prominent industry spokesman. bombings intheir homeland, try to spray the Ebola virus on New York City on theFourth of July. bombings intheir homeland, try to spray the Ebola virus on New York City on theFourth of July.

Former ER physician Clement realistically projectsthe tension and challenge of the field in a fascinating novel ofnational and international commerce and betrayal. MUTANT A Ballantine BookPublished by The Ballantine Publishing Group Copyright 2001 by PeterClement Duffy All rights reservedunder International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the UnitedStates by The Ballantine Publishing Group, a division of RandomHouse, Inc." New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House ofCanada Limited, Toronto. Ballantine is aregistered trademark and the Ballantine colophon is a trademark of RandomHouse, Inc. This is a work offiction. www.ballantinebooks.com LIBRARY OF CONGRESSCATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA Clement, Peter, M.D.Mutant / Peter Clement.--1st ed. p. em. em.

ISBN 0-345-44337-3 I. Title. PS3553.L3938 M88 20018l3'.54--dc21 2001025364 Text design by Holly Johnson Manufactured inthe United States of America First Edition: July 2001 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 To James, Sean, and Vyta, for being there to launch each new day prologue October 28,1998,1:00a.m. Kailua, Oahu Island, Hawaii His screams woke herand brought her running to where he slept. "Mommeeee!" Not bothering with thelights, she covered the twenty feet of corridor separating theirbedrooms with a half dozen strides. "I'm here, Tommy,"she reassured, rushing to his bed.

By the time she swept him into herarms, he was choking. "I'm here,darling," she repeated, ready to tell him that he'd just had a bad dream. Even whenshe felt him burning up, the front of him wet through her nightgown,she figured that his cold must have gotten worse and he'd vomited fromcoughing. She'd always taken pride in disciplining herawareness of what could happen, not letting it cloud her objectivity or makeher imagine the worst whenever he got sick. But his continued hackingand struggling to breathe began to fill her with alarm. She snapped onthe light and saw bloody foam pouring from his nose and mouth as hesputtered and gagged.

Panic jolted throughher with the force of an executioner's current. "Oh, my God, no!"she uttered, as if she could protest the sight, order it away, blink itgone. Then her instincts tookover. Turning him facedown so the blood could run clear of hisairway, she tore downstairs with him, leaving a trail of crimson on the rug. In an instant she decided that driving him to the hospital herselfwould be fastest, grabbing keys and a cellular phone off the kitchentable as she passed it. She dashed out of the house repeating,"Mommy's got you.

Mommy's got you. Spit out and breathe in." Hegasped for a breath between fits of sobbing, and through her palm,supporting his chest, she felt tiny vibrations--the purring of a lungfilled with fluid. The knowledge increasedher terror while her mind scrolled through what he might have, thepossibilities all grim. "Oh, my poor baby.That's a good baby. It'll be all right!" she continued, sprintingbreathlessly across the lawn toward the garage. "What's killinghim?" she whispered with all the intensity of a prayer, as if God couldprovide the diagnosis. "What's killinghim?" she whispered with all the intensity of a prayer, as if God couldprovide the diagnosis.

In His silence she racked her own mind forthe answer, but her thoughts tumbled in free fall. Yesterday he'd seemedto have only a cold. Had her obsession with not overreacting led her tomiss something that could have alerted her? By the time she yankedopen the car door, got herself into the driver's seat, and, keeping himfacedown, placed him across her lap, he started to emit shrill littlecries with each expiration. She jammed the key into the ignition,squealed out of the driveway in reverse, and rocketed up the road. One hand on the wheel,the other on her phone, she punched the automatic dial button. After two rings camethe reply, "Emergency, Honolulu General--" "This is Dr.

Sandra Arness.I'm on the Pali Highway heading toward you from Kailua. It's my son.He's a precede in acute respiratory distress--from sepsisand what must be pneumonia. For God's sake, have 911 dispatch an ambulance to meet me, and make sure they're carrying res us equipment for athree-year-old--" She broke into a sob, unable to bear the thought ofhaving to resuscitate him herself. "Right away, Dr.Arness!" the receptionist crisply replied. "And I'll alertour team." The boy, emitting everweaker sounds as he struggled to breathe, raised his head from where itlay across her thighs. "Oh, Tommy, bebrave. "Oh, Tommy, bebrave.

Mommy will help you soon." "Help now, Mommy." She held back her owntears, determined to stay in control and not frighten him further.Yet her helplessness had her in agony. As if to torment her further,they shot past the darkened remnants of the sole place on this side ofthe island that might once have saved him. Their local hospital had beenshut down last year as a cost-cutting measure. Whenever she could takeher hand off the wheel, she stroked his head. That was always hisfavorite thing--let me at least give him that, she prayed. But this partof the road snaked back and forth up a series of switchbacks as itcrossed the Koolau Range separating Kailua from Honolulu.

She neededboth hands on the wheel to fight the car through yet another turn, andat the loss of her touch, he immediately became restless. Emerging from the longtunnel that marks the halfway point, she saw the flashing red of theambulance through a break in the trees as it approached on thehighway far below. Behind it, in the distance, the golden lights ofHonolulu cascaded down the dark hills to the shores of Waikiki--she'd oncedescribed them as a spray of fairy dust in a magic kingdom to a wide-eyedTommy as he'd stared in wonder at the sight. Memories of hissquealing with delight seared through her. "I see theambulance, Tommy, and the twinkling city. Mommy will help you breathe now--"She broke off, feeling him start to shake in her lap.

He was seizing. "Oh, God, no! No!No!" The ambulance still looked to be several minutes away. Tommy's life was down to a matter ofseconds. Already doing a hundred, she floored the accelerator. Therewere fewer turns here, but hurtling downhill she nearly lost controlseveral times, her tires slithering in the roadside grass andgravel. When she'd halved the distance between her and the oncomingflashers, she skidded to a stop, straddling a break in the median.

PullingTommy to her, she struggled out of the car and stood in the light ofits high beams with his jerking body in her arms. She could see himturning blue. More bloody froth seeped out between his clenched teeth. Heseemed to be grunting, but she knew it to be the force of eachconvulsion pushing what little air he had left out of his lungs. She knelt on theasphalt with him in her lap and tried to pry his jaw open with her fingers.It wouldn't budge. She covered his lips with her mouth and attemptedto blow air through them, but they were locked in their grimace.

Sheeven tried to deliver a breath to his lungs through his nasalpassage, yet no matter how hard she strained, the air went nowhere. Histongue must have fallen into the back of his throat, blocking the way. Thesound of the siren grew louder, like the wail of an approaching banshee. "Tommy! Tommy!"she began screaming over the noise, out of options and feeling the pulsein his neck drop to practically nothing. The rhythmic jerkingslowed, his arms and legs still flopping as if someone were shakinghim, but only once every two seconds. The vehicle roared up just as shefelt him go limp.