Dead Hunt (5 page)

“Now that was fuckin’ funny!” Paul
roared.

Michael smiled as he pushed his glasses back
up on his nose.

“Sorry,” Emma murmured to Michael,
embarrassed.

“Actually,” Michael told her, “it was kinda
funny.”

They all smiled.

“Well, at least he didn’t keep going,” Lucy
informed everyone. “Just up ahead is Cheticamp. As soon as you go
through Cheticamp, the road leads into Highland Park. If dumb-dumb
here of had kept going we would have went all through the
Highlands, up along the coast by Meat Cove, down through Neil’s
Harbour and back down to Baddeck. We would have ended up exactly
where we started!”

“So, how far is Margaree from here?” Michael
asked.

“Ummm, it’s about thirty minutes, I think,”
Lucy answered then looked at Paul. “In the other direction. That
cop was right, you can’t read signs.”

“I’ll drive for awhile, Mate,” Wade
volunteered.

“I can read the signs,” Paul argued
defensively.

“No worries,” Wade reassured him, “you look
stuffed.”

“I look what?”

Wade laughed. “Tired, Mate. You look tired.
I’ll drive for a spell and you rest.”

They switched seats and Wade turned the van
around and headed back the way they came.

CHAPTER 3 – Beinn Breagh

“Good morning, Robin,” Professor Patrick
Heslin’s voice echoed in his empty laboratory.

“Good morning, father,” a computerized voice
responded.

Heslin used his connections and his check
book to hire the best engineers and developers to build him the
Robin 1 Super Computer. a computer not only capable of helping him
with his research, but one that spoke to him. It wasn’t just a set
of canned responses like most computers; this one had a brain.
Officially, it was called artificial intelligence but the truth
was, the Robin 1 Computer was so advanced it appeared to be able to
‘think’ far outside its primary programming.

Using videotapes from his daughter’s twelfth
birthday party, the last real birthday his daughter Robin ever had,
the engineers and developers not only gave the AI brain Robin’s
sweet and innocent voice but her angelic face as well, allowing the
computer to simulate various facial expressions as she talked.
Robin’s forever twelve year-old face filled the computer monitor as
Heslin sipped his morning coffee.

“I checked the weather forecast, father. It
is going to be very hot today. Shall I turn on the air
conditioner?”

Robin controlled nearly every aspect of
Heslin's lab, from the satellite internet uplink to the electrical
and security systems, including the locks on the doors. Cameras
placed throughout the entire building allowed Robin to monitor
everything. Speakers and microphones allowed Heslin to talk to
Robin from any room.

“Robin, you know I prefer fresh air from open
windows,” Heslin responded. “What are the probability results of
formula 25-41?”

“Did you forget, father?” Robin asked.

“Did I forget what?” Heslin inquired with a
hint of a smile breaking across his lips.

“Did you forget what today is?” Robin
replied.

Heslin smiled with a wide grin as he looked
into Robin's face on the computer.

“Of course not,” he said lovingly. “How could
I ever forget such an important day? Happy Birthday, Robin!”

Robin’s face smiled. Heslin’s mind drifted
back to his daughter’s twelfth birthday---it was a beautiful, sunny
day and their back yard was filled with balloons, games, pony rides
and too many screaming children.

Heslin was known to be habitually late for
just about everything. Important meetings, dinner engagements,
Heslin was even late for his own wedding. His friends jokingly told
him he would be late for his own funeral. But, when it came to
Robin, Heslin was never late. He never missed a recital, a school
play or a single birthday. For her, Heslin was always on time,
always there for her.

Heslin, a man years ahead of his peers in the
field of genetic research, now resembled a pitiful man talking to a
computerized version of his daughter. To an outsider, it would look
as though the award-winning scientist had finally lost his marbles,
but to those who knew him well, it was exactly what Heslin needed
to keep his sanity. He needed his Robin. Without her, Heslin simply
could not go on.

It was only three short years ago that Heslin
was working in his lab at the research center when he received an
urgent phone call. At first Heslin understood the words, but as the
news grabbed hold, the words became fuzzy, unclear. Heslin's hand
released the grip on the phone, and it bounced on the desk with a
loud bang. Heslin leaned back in his chair, staring straight ahead.
His friend and colleague, Professor Lindsay Paulson, ran to Heslin
to see what was the matter as the voice on the telephone handset
repeated, “Hello? Hello? Professor Heslin, are you still
there?”

“Patrick, are you ok?” Lindsay asked. Heslin
did not reply.

“Hello?” The voice on the phone insisted,
“Sir, are you still there?”

“Hello?” Lindsay questioned as she put the
phone to her ear, “What’s going on?”

“Is Professor Heslin all right?”

“Not exactly,” she retorted. “What did you
say to him? Who is this?”

“This is Sgt. O’Brian. Are you a family
member of…”

“This is Lindsay Paulson,” she announced, “I
work with Patrick. He is a friend of mine. What happened? What did
you say to him?”

Tears raced down her face as the sergeant
explained that a drunk driver slammed into Mrs. Heslin’s car,
killing her and sweet little Robin.

“Oh my god,…. No!” she sobbed. Lindsay looked
at Heslin, “Patrick, I am so sorry.”

Heslin did not answer. He just sat there,
staring ahead, a blank look on his face.

As the news of the tragedy spread, Heslin’s
lab quickly filled with colleagues and lab assistants to help
comfort the grieving man. Eventually the lab cleared, leaving
Heslin alone with his sorrow. Lindsay stayed behind to further
comfort him and made the obligatory offer:

“If there’s anything I can do, Patrick, you
just let me know.”

Heslin lifted his eyes to Lindsay and uttered
two simple words.

“There is.”

He scribbled on a piece of paper and handed
it to Lindsay. Her eyes opened wide in disbelief.

“No, Patrick, do not ask me to do such a
thing. You’re not thinking straight right now….”

“Do it!” Heslin’s sharp words cut her off. “I
don’t care what it takes. I don’t care what it costs, just do
it.”

This time it was Lindsay who stared blankly
ahead.

Now, three years later, Heslin paced
impatiently in front of his microscope, deep in concentrated
thought. A thick, grey stubble on his face showed a tell-tale sign
that he hadn't shaved in days. His wild, Einstein-like hairdo meant
he hadn't showered either. Heslin often worked to the point of
exhaustion, slept for three or four hours, and then started another
marathon session that lasted for days at a time. Heslin glanced at
his stop watch as he hovered over his microscope. Impatiently, he
switched between staring into the eye piece and looking at the
watch. The seconds slowly ticked by.

Heslin was an old-school scientist and
preferred microscopes and test tubes instead of a completely
computerized laboratory. Although everything under the microscope
was hooked into the Robin 1 mainframe, Heslin still preferred to
see it with his own eyes. Beneath the all-seeing eye of his
microscope, a culture dish held reddish-gray cells that moved in a
jerky motion when Heslin’s genetically modified, translucent green
liquid touched the cells. Not really a touch, more like a gentle
caress. The reddish-gray cells were human cells, long since dead,
but now sparked of new life when Heslin’s translucent green cells
caressed them. Life that never broke the two minute window. Heslin
dared another look at his watch as Robin’s voice broke the
deafening silence.

“Formula 25-41 approaching the two minute
mark in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6 . . .”

Robin stopped. Heslin’s heart sank as he
closed his eyes knowingly and exhaled deeply. He didn’t have to
look into the microscope to know the cells had stopped moving. He
knew exactly what failure looked like. He had seen it too many
times before, more times than he cared to count. He opened his
tired eyes as Robin started to announce the results.

“Test complete. Sequence has failed. Formula
25-41 not capable of supporting. . .”

“I know.” Heslin blurted angrily, cutting her
off. “I bloody well know. God dammit! Five more seconds! Is that
too much to ask?”

Heslin's question echoed in the empty lab.
The last of Heslin’s assistants had quit weeks ago when Heslin
could no longer afford to pay them. Working Heslin’s marathon hours
was practically suicide, but without the lure of money, his
assistants quickly abandoned the maniacal professor.

Living off cold coffee and a few bites of the
occasional sandwich, Heslin continued his research, oblivious to
the world around him and the hunger pains that often growled in his
empty belly. His appetite was for something bigger, something
monumental and more important than mere food. He was so close to
succeeding that he could practically smell victory. Despite his
countless defeats, he never flinched in his pursuit. He was
determined to prove his theories right... and his colleagues
wrong.

The scientific community laughed at him when
he first presented his proposal. He was convinced that dead tissue
and dead blood cells could be regenerated back into living
organisms. He proposed that the dead brain cells of Alzheimer’s
patients could be brought back to life. He even dared to say that
loved ones lost in terrible accidents could be brought back to
life.

Knowing of his recent loss, his peers thought
his intentions were “misplaced”. Others had simply labeled his
ideas as Frankenstein-ish, and although none would admit it, many
feared that if he did succeed, the end result would not be that
much different than the monster in Mary Shelley's famed novel.

Rage filled Heslin's already exhausted mind
as the sound of mocking from his peers crept back into his memory.
He grabbed a beaker of formula 25-41 and fired it across the room,
smashing it against the wall, just inches above the opened window.
The loud crash of shattering glass snapped him out of his rage.
Heslin laughed in spite of himself.

"Well now, Paddy me boy, that was rather dumb
now, wasn't it? Now you have a mess to clean up.”

“Father, is everything all right?” Robin
asked.

“Not now, Robin,” Heslin answered abruptly,
looking at his watch.

6:10 a.m.

Quietly, Heslin picked up a small garbage
pail and began to pick up the broken shards of glass as the thick,
translucent green liquid succumbed to gravity and slowly oozed down
the wall. His mind lost on his recent failure, Heslin grabbed a
piece of broken glass the wrong way, and as he clenched his fingers
a sharp pain jolted him back to the task at hand. Blood poured from
the deep cut. Instinctively, he put the cut to his mouth. He knew
it didn't really help the pain, He knew that it was just a
psychological link to when his mother had the power to heal hurt
with a loving kiss, but he sucked the cut anyway.

Overcome with disappointment, yet clinging on
to a fragile hope, he peered inside the microscope’s eyepiece once
more. Nothing moved. He adjusted the magnification as a small trail
of blood trickled down his badly cut hand. A solitary drop of blood
hung suspended from his hand, daring to fall. In less than a
heartbeat the tiny drop of blood began its descent. It splashed in
the culture dish, hardly noticeable to the naked eye, but under the
magnification of his powerful microscope, the tiny splash was huge.
It looked like a giant wave of red reaching up to grab him. It
startled Heslin as if someone had jumped out of a dark corner. He
quickly collected his thoughts and looked at his hand. Blood was
streaking down his forearm.

“I have to stitch this,” Heslin said to
himself as he headed out of the laboratory.

Robin spoke up. “Father….”

“Not now, Robin.”

“Father. . .” she repeated.

“Go to sleep now, Robin,” Heslin commanded,
cutting her off.

The computer monitors instantly went
black.

The command, “Go to sleep now, Robin” was a
built-in fail-safe known only to Heslin and the programmers of the
Robin 1 Mainframe. Robin prevented everyone, Heslin included, from
accessing her AI brain, so no one could tamper with her
programming. The command was created so Robin could be shut down to
allow for routine maintenance of the system. At the end of a one
hour period, a second fail-safe timer automatically rebooted the
main system, turning Robin back on.

Heslin hissed in pain as he fumbled about
trying to stitch the deep gash on his finger. The folks down the
mountain may have called him “Doc”, but his feeble attempt to
stitch his wound proved he knew very little about practical
procedures. He was a scientist after all, not a medical doctor.

Heslin thought about the good folks in the
Valley, hard working people who welcomed the scientist with open
arms and, as he requested, left him alone so as not to disturb his
research. Once a month they ran supplies up to him, mostly by
4-wheel drive, but during the harsh winter months, a snowmobile was
the only thing that could make the trip up the secluded mountain
road.

Perched on the mountainside, he sometimes
felt like his idol, the great inventor, Alexander Graham Bell. Bell
had settled in the nearby village of Baddeck, not more than an hour
away. Heslin proudly hung a picture of Bell above his mantle. Below
it, a plaque displayed Bell's immortal words:

“I have traveled the globe. I have seen the
Canadian and American Rockies, the Andes and the Alps and the
highlands of Scotland, but for simple beauty, Cape Breton outrivals
them all.”