The Superspecies Two: A Haunting Sci-Fi Horror Mystery

Discovery and Denial

The blood samples from White River had been sent to Dr. Grimm's office for an initial analysis prior to the official EPA analysis, mainly because his laboratory was stocked with the most state-of-the-art equipment currently available. With it, the test could be performed in less than half the time and had the added advantage of letting them know ahead of time what the results would be prior to becoming a matter of federal record. The crusty analyst had been expecting the samples for three days and was growing a bit impatient because of his desire to avoid any association with the project; concerned the samples had been intercepted in transit by the government which would've tipped them off to his involvement.

"What took them so long?" he complained the instant they arrived in a plain brown package. Not given to gratuitous complaining as a rule but the nature of this project carried many potential outcomes for him, all of them unpleasant, and he was angry at Morey for involving him in the first place. He placed the samples noisily into caddy trays and began preparing the necessary equipment to run the experiments. Sitting in his own private laboratory with a series of computer-generated models he began testing them to determine if any of the genetic blueprints in the database matched the DNA configurations contained in the samples from White River. If there were any positive matches the bears were considered bona fide carriers of the gene even though there remained some ambiguity due to a considerable number of models to look over and agreement not yet unanimous regarding specific gene sequences or "signatures" for Superspecies status.

Grimm glanced out the window at the expansive campus courtyard below bathed in fading light from the afternoon sun across winding spires into shadowy neo-gothic arches where eager faces emerged from finished classes. Intricately conceived windows splayed out in parallel rows outside offices and classrooms along various levels of the main campus building, opposite his vantage point. As director of biology he was responsible for coordinating all the major and minor affairs of the department as well as resolving many of its more "irresolvable" problems. Department funding being the main one (at least by administration's standards) but, from his perspective, was simply a never-ending effort and doubtless the most difficult and unpleasant part of the job. The director of administration was forever sending him correspondence to cultivate relationships with such-and-such a wealthy personage: parties interested in sponsoring the university's various departments. Of course there wasn't enough time to speak to all of them but his job was to contact as many as possible. He couldn't even recall the last time he had the opportunity to conduct any serious research and in that way Intinman's project had a liberating effect on him which was probably why he pursued it. It was cutting-edge and risky, everything his daily life lacked and even a middle-aged rebellion against jaded respectability.

This project was more than just an adrenaline rush to him, it rekindled a passion for pure science he'd lost in the interminable years of cocktail parties, department socials and standing up in front of sleepy students and colleagues in musty auditoriums giving speeches on generally accepted theories. His wife, on the other hand, was enamored with all the social activity and hadn't even noticed his growing restlessness. That aspect of their lives gave her purpose and she was always planning the next event and what they should wear months in advance. He hadn't told her anything about the project.

He had a faculty meeting scheduled for 10:00 A.M., in ten minutes, so gathered up his notes and binder along with his briefcase and headed for the main conference room in another part of the building. The first test was close to being ready for inspection and he could try to match the DNA sequences when he returned. While locking the door and checking twice to make sure it was locked he was approached by Lance Morgan, director of the chemistry department, who had just rounded the corner in a beige blazer and striped navy tie.