Jeremy Robinson - Instinct (A Chess Team Adventure)

INSTINCT

ALSO BY JEREMY ROBINSON

The Didymus Contingency

Raising the Past

Antarktos Rising

Kronos Pulse

A Chess Team Adventure

JEREMY ROBINSON

Thomas Dunne Books St. Martins Press New York

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS .

An imprint of St. Martins Press.

INSTINCT . Copyright 2010 by Jeremy Robinson. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martins Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.thomasdunnebooks.com

www.stmartins.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Robinson, Jeremy, 1974

Instinct : a Chess Team adventure / Jeremy Robinson. 1st ed.

p. cm.

Thomas Dunne books.

ISBN 978-0-312-54029-6

1. GeneticistsFiction. 2. BioterrorismFiction. 3. Special forces
(Military science)Fiction. 4. AmericansVietnamFiction. 5. Terrorism
PreventionFiction. I. Title.

PS3618.O3268I57 2010

813'.6dc22

2009047572

First Edition: April 2010

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For Mom, even though I know
this one will freak you out

Over the past few years I have come to learn that without a core group of supporters, the job of being an author (and all the self-promotion that goes along with that) would be impossible for me. The time, skills, and knowledge required to pull off big promotions and even bigger stories is immense. So it is with great appreciation that I thank the following folks, my core.

Though Im sure my twists on science sometimes make him cringe, Todd Wielgos, senior research scientist with MS Chemistry, makes my genetics tinkering not just believable, but also cutting edge. You make me look smarter than I am.

Major Ed Humm, U.S.M.C. (Ret.), your advice on everything from military tactics to weapons and even nit-pick details like foreign uniforms, is invaluable. Brigadier General Anthony Tata, your insights into the world of Delta and knowledge of field gear has been exactly what I needed to keep things real.

Stanley Tremblay (aka Rook) and Walter Elly (aka sucka) you make PR, web analytics, and social marketing fun and challenging. You are also the best idea soundboards an author could have. Your unceasing excitement about the books and other media projects I dream up is contagious and often keeps me on track when I would normally be in a slump.

Roger Brodeur, you are one of my biggest supporters, my favorite father-in-law, and the best grammar/typo checker I know.

Scott Miller and the gang at Trident Media Group, your advice is valued and judgment sound. With the exciting projects we have brewing; I look forward to a long and prosperous journey with you.

And now for the folks who truly make dreams come true. Peter Wolverton, youre an awesome editor whose insights are sometimes brutal, but always appreciated. Readers have noted how much better the Chess Team books are, and that is in part thanks to you. Elizabeth Byrne, an e-mail from you is always good news, and I greatly appreciate your quick replies and diligent answers to my many questions. Rafal Gibek, production editor, and Christina Mac-Donald, copy editor, you took my rough prose and made them shine. And Jerry Todd, as an artist myself, I am a harsh judge of cover art and I am thrilled with what you have done for Instinct. A hearty thank you to all of you.

And finally, to the people who are always last in my acknowledgments, but first in my life: my wife, Hilaree, whose years of sacrifice helped make this dream of being an author possible. My children, Aquila, Solomon, and Norah, while I spend my days dreaming up tortures and tension you fill my mornings and evenings with creativity, joy, and love. You are the ying to my writing yang. Love you guys.

There is no law of progress. Our future is in our own hands, to make or to mar. It will be an uphill fight to the end, and would we have it otherwise? Let no one suppose that evolution will ever exempt us from struggles. You forget, said the Devil, with a chuckle, that I have been evolving too.

William Ralph Inge

Man... is a tame or civilized animal; nevertheless, he requires proper instruction and a fortunate nature, and then of all animals he becomes the most divine and most civilized; but if he be insufficiently or ill-educated he is the most savage of earthly creatures.

Plato

Life is a sexually transmitted disease.

R. D. Laing

THREE MONTHS HAD gone by since Dr. Anthony Weston began his search for the elusive creatures, and now that hed found them, they were going to kill him.

A cascade of sweat followed a path of crisscrossing wrinkles down his forehead and dripped into his wide eyes. The salty, dirty sweat stung and brought forth a welling of tears, blurring his vision. He couldnt see the creatures clearly, nor the ground on which he ran, but he could hear them all around, calling out to each other.

The sheer volume of their booming hoots and hollers filled him with a kind of primeval dread that quickened his pace and made his heart pound painfully in his chest. He feared a heart attack for a moment, but the crunch of dry leaves all around signaled that his life was fleeting, heart problem or not.

Weston rounded a bend on the overgrown path that wound its way through the jungle and eventually up into the mountains. He picked up speed as the trail straightened out. If not for the assistance of gravity and the steep grade, the beasts would most assuredly have already overtaken him, but as it was, Weston found himself running much more quickly than on level ground. Even still, the task of outrunning the savage tribe was taking a grim toll on his body. With each labored breath, his ruddy brown beard and mustache, which had grown long and ungainly during his months in the bush, were sucked in and pushed out of his mouth. His light blue eyes sparkled with wetness, and his hands, which held off approaching tree limbs and bushes, shook violently, smearing the blood drawn from his fresh wounds.

Brush exploded to his right as one of the creatures toppled through it. They were tumbling and tripping as they barreled clumsily in pursuit, focused more on their quarry than their surroundings. They were single-minded hunters. He knew this from watching them take down yellow pigs and the antelope-like saolaeven that fine creatures keen horns couldnt fight off the savages when they were hungry.

And they were hungry now.

Weston first knew something was wrong when, that morning, the creatures began sniffing vigorously at the air. Hed been watching them from a distance, higher up on the mountain, for an entire week. Hed observed them hunting, grooming, sleeping, and playing. But it hadnt been enough. Seeing through binoculars and hearing only distant calls could not quench his thirst for discovery. So, the previous night, hed worked his way carefully, silently, down the mountainside until he was a mere fifty yards above with a clear view of the glade and mountain cave that served as their home. After carefully concealing himself with brush and debris, he waited eagerly for daybreak.

As the morning sun burned off the previous nights fog, the group emerged from their cave, stretching and yawning. Typically, grooming would come next, but a new smell had caught their noseWeston. As a cool breeze tickled the back of his neck, he realized the winds were rolling down the mountainside from above, and since he was so close, the odor of his unbathed body was fresh in the air.