Unnatural Selexion

By D. J. Reynolds

The natural world has a way of staying in balance, but what happens when man defiles nature's grand design? Two men push the limits of genetics far beyond the breaking point, creating a monster like no other. Programmed to kill, will this uncontrollable beast satisfy its primal desire to destroy the men who made it - and anything else in its path? What if it cannot be stopped? The Darwinian theory of evolution is shattered in Unnatural Selexion.

 

The story begins with the creation of a deadly hybrid bear for the personal gain of two ex-cons. Set in the wilderness of Canada's Yukon Territory, the story follows a path of death and destruction by a monster specifically bred and genetically altered for killing. The hideous creature's thirst for death exceeds natural limits, as does its abilities. If it cannot be stopped, the lives of everyone at the Silver Lining Lodge, a remote ski resort, are in peril.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D. J. Reynolds
• Release date: Sep 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393351283

Book preview

Special thanks to my brother Dean for kick-starting this novel and for lending his creative talent to the project. Without him, this work would not exist. I also want to thank Susan Hicks for leading me to Carlene Cobb, a patient and talented editor whose efforts are appreciated more than she knows.

For my wife and children

Boötes

Keeper of the Bear

Boötes is traditionally described as a herdsman holding two leashed hunting dogs. Because Boötes follows Ursa Major (the great bear) around the pole, it is frequently referred to as the keeper of the bear. In the Northern Hemisphere, Boötes is most visible from spring through fall.

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Chapter One

Tranquilize the damn thing, NOW! Frank Tremblay screamed. He was desperate to get this situation under control. Glaring at his scrawny new assistant, Frank shouted, Devin, if he gets loose, we’re both screwed!

Devin glanced around the room, not understanding what Frank expected him to do despite having been trained for this exact situation just two days earlier. Leveraging a heavy metal bar against the animal’s cage door, Frank strained with both hands to keep it shut. He could do little more than shout instructions to his terrified assistant.

The gun is right there next to you, you idiot! Frank yelled, motioning with his head in the direction of the tranquilizer gun.

Unaccustomed to the unusual activity outside its enclosure, the bear became more agitated. Pawing at the floor with enough force to scratch the concrete surface, the bear stared at Frank and released a deep growl. Frank knew time was running out. He winced at the sound of the animal’s steely claws screeching against the floor. Pressing his full weight into the metal bar, he looked into the beast’s strange golden eyes. Returning the stare of the man holding it captive, the bear began swinging its massive head slowly from side to side in a menacing manner.

Frank was familiar with the habits of most bears but couldn’t recall ever witnessing this bear’s strange behavior. At some primal level, he sensed the animal was signaling an attack.

Emitting a low guttural growl, the bear stopped swaying its head. Keeping its eyes trained on its target, the enormous beast backed to the far side of the cage. Then lowering its deadly gaze, it unleashed an odd-sounding, earsplitting roar. A split-second later, it dropped its head and charged toward the door. Toward Frank.

Flinching from the sound erupting in his ears and the sight of a creature six times his size lunging at him, Frank’s right foot slipped backward. WHAM! The bear crashed into the door.

The iron bar wrenched in Frank’s hand, pinching his fingers against the cage. Pain fired from his fingers to his hands and up through his arms. His stinging hands released their tight grip on the bar, dropping it onto his toes. Skittering across the floor, the bar landed well out of reach. Swearing under his breath, Frank regained his footing, turned and slammed his back against the cage door.

Having designed the bear’s enclosure with thick cast-iron bars fortified with heavy steel mesh and two separate deadbolt locks, Frank thought he had considered everything. He knew under typical conditions the design would be more than enough to secure the immense creature, but as his back pressed deeply into the bars, he realized this was not a typical day—nor a typical animal.

The problem began while the enormous bear was outside during its weekly cage cleaning. Frank’s absent-minded assistant left the larger of the gate’s two deadbolts unlocked and somehow misplaced the key. Perhaps because the bear had spent most of its life inside the enclosure, the creature detected something was out of place the moment it reentered its cage.

Although the bear had never been beyond the electrified fence of the remote breeding compound, it appeared to be craving freedom and would likely battle to the death to achieve it. Maybe it sensed this was its chance. Watching the two men labor frantically outside its cage, the creature’s determination to escape increased. It began slashing wildly at the mesh above Frank’s head.

Facing away from the creature, Frank could not see what was happening behind him. He didn’t need to. He could feel the animal’s fiery breath on his neck and could hear its claws slashing against the metal a few inches above his ears as it worked to escape. Wishing he could run but knowing his best chance for survival was to contain the beast, he crouched lower, forcing his legs to push harder.

The bear reacted to Frank’s movement, lowering its forearms closer to the man’s head.

Just as he was ready to yell at Devin to hurry, one of the bear’s abnormally long claws cut through the top of Frank’s shoulder. A trickle of blood began flowing down his back. For the second time in less than a minute, Frank winced in pain.

Hearing what he thought was a slight cry, Devin stopped fumbling with the gun and looked toward Frank.

Shoot it or I’ll shoot you, Frank demanded, staring daggers into Devin’s frightened eyes.

Somehow realizing the futility of its efforts, the bear removed its claws from the tight mesh, circled the cage and charged the door, once again ramming its massive shoulder into the weakened latch.

The battered lock held.

Thwack! A needle from the air gun landed in the creature’s neck.

Waiting a few seconds for the sedative to work, the two men watched in amazement as the drug appeared to be having the opposite of its intended effect.  

Sh... sh... should I shoot it again? Devin cried, not taking his eyes off the raging bear now methodically throwing its entire bulk into the metal door. This is not what I signed up for, he sniveled, fumbling to load another dart into the gun.

The thought of just running and leaving Frank behind crossed Devin’s mind, but he didn’t think it would end well, even if he eluded the bear. From what he knew about Frank, the man could be just as mean as the horrid beast and, in certain ways, even more deadly.

Frank hesitated, not being able to comprehend the situation. That was enough tranq’ to knock out a rhino, he mumbled half to himself, his legs now aching from the exertion of pressing his body against the door.

Mr. Tremblay! Look, Devin shouted, pointing toward the deadbolt which seemed to be bent at an odd angle, appearing ready to give way. I don’t think it can take much more! 

Shoot it again... shoot it ten times if you have to, Frank yelled. Quickly coming out of his trance, he examined the damaged lock next to his injured shoulder.

Another dart hit the bear in its side. This time it was only a matter of seconds before the animal staggered back and ceased its relentless attack, still taking almost a full minute before collapsing to the cold, concrete floor. Clinging to consciousness while its body lay motionless, the creature looked at Devin and silently bared its jagged white fangs until the full effect of the sedative finally won the battle.

Devin stood with the gun raised, watching until the beast stopped moving and its eyes closed. Only then did he feel it was safe enough to return the gun to its resting place. Burying his shaking hands deep into his pockets to hide them from Frank, he tried to calm himself.

Finally, was all Frank could say.

What’s with that weird-looking son-of-a-bitch anyway and why’s he kept back here away from the others? Devin asked. It got rabies or something?

Devin was concerned he’d been infected by something even though he had not suffered any cuts or scrapes during the fray. For all he knew, some strange disease was transmitted to him through the air.

With his fingers still stinging and blood trickling down his back, Frank located the missing key and secured the larger deadbolt before hunching over and resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.  His entire body ached and was drenched in sweat. His leg muscles twitched uncontrollably from the rush of adrenaline still surging through his veins. After taking a few seconds to collect his thoughts, Frank chose to delay responding to Devin’s question. He wanted to think through the best way to tell the kid why this specific bear, referred to as EX, was kept so far away from the rest of the stock.  

He thought about explaining that EX was the brainchild of Frank’s business partner, Kirk Martin. Friends since a stint together in prison, Frank and Kirk had stumbled into the business of illegal animal trafficking within a few months of their release. Although the men were mostly sourcing bears, they would buy, hunt, capture or breed whatever animals their customers needed. And this particular bear, if it could be classified as such, was a very special project for their operation.

Let’s sit down, Frank said, pointing to a short corridor toward the main room.

Following a few steps behind his boss, Devin cringed at the thought of going to the sizeable holding area. The room reeked. The smell of the animals’ fur heavily matted from their own piss and shit was almost more than he could stomach. Having little regard for cleanliness in his own life, Devin walked in disgusted awe at the filth encrusted facility.

Grabbing an old folding chair and two bottles of lukewarm beer from a half-empty six-pack sitting on a nearby bench, Frank plopped down next to a cluttered table. Handing Devin a beer, unconcerned if the assistant was even of drinking age, Frank relaxed and sucked in a deep breath. If you ever let that happen again, I’ll make sure you’ll be that beast’s next meal, he snarled. The slow, deep tone of his voice made it clear this was not an idle threat.

I didn’t do anything, Devin said in a defensive tone.

Shut your face. I’m not in the mood for any of your lame-ass excuses. I’ll give you two options. We can take a smoke break and then feed the others, or I can take you out back and kill you right now. Your choice.

Reaching across the table for an open pack of cigarettes, Frank lit one up and took a deep hit, allowing the nicotine to calm his nerves. He stared at the distraught assistant and raised one eyebrow as if waiting for a response.

Devin looked away.

While leaning back and slowly exhaling smoke toward the ceiling, Frank decided to play it straight with the kid. He had already agreed with Kirk they would tell Devin the full truth about the operation, as they figured he would find out eventually. Plus, they needed a third man and wanted to know if Devin would put in with them. The fact was the operation was almost impossible for two men to run by themselves. They expected three people would be capable of handling all the duties with relative ease, at least in theory, but were reaching the conclusion that handling EX might be more than even a team of ten men could safely manage.

Having decided the crux of what he wanted to tell Devin, Frank crushed out his cigarette and straightened his shoulders. I don’t trust nobody but me and Kirk, he began. What I tell you stays here, and if you open your trap to anyone—even your dog—you’ll end up in the slop next feeding time. For effect, he pointed to a rusty meat grinder in the room’s back corner. Do you understand? Frank’s gruff manner left no question he was being serious.

Frank knew there was little risk the assistant would not go along with the program. While he appeared to be a hard worker, Devin was a bit dull in the head and had been in and out of trouble for petty crimes since grammar school. The kid could not get, let alone hold, a legitimate job even if he wanted to. In his favor, Devin’s first trip to the joint was for taking the rap for one of Kirk’s old cellmates. Frank felt this was a good sign as to the young man’s character, at the very least knowing he wasn’t a snitch, but he needed to make sure the kid wasn’t a braggart either. The last thing he and Kirk needed was some stupid little shit spouting off to his friends and bringing unwanted attention to their little venture, particularly from law enforcement.

Perhaps more out of curiosity than his desire for steady employment, Devin nodded his head in agreement, Got it.

Frank took a swig from his beer as he thought about the best place to start.

The animals we’ve been raising here are being sold to an international animal fighting circuit. Quite simply, we raise ‘em, cage ‘em, and send ‘em wherever they ask us to, which most recently has been somewhere near Moscow. And the larger and more vicious the predator, the larger the payday for us.

The larger payday comment caught Devin's attention. He focused on the cigarette dangling from Frank’s mouth and started listening more intently, having not heard most of what Frank had just said.

Then, if one of our animals somehow survives more than one fight intact, we are paid a percentage of the winnings. When this happens, not only can we more than double our profits, but it increases orders for more animals, that is until we hit another losing streak.

Yes, a losing streak, Devin repeated, not fully following what he was hearing.

Pausing for a moment, Frank drained his beer and sent the empty bottle flying across the room toward a small black bear sleeping in its cage. So, that weird-looking son-of-a-bitch, as you called it, is our next big payday. You see, that ain’t no normal bear back there. He’s been bred specifically for fighting and he is going to make us a fortune.

Sounds good. I could use a fortune, Devin said, thinking about some money he owed his girlfriend.

Well, maybe not a fortune, but a lot of money, anyway. An average run-of-the-mill bear nets us, oh... around ten grand up front, and like I said, more if it wins a few fights. We sell maybe three or four of these guys a year, so you do the math.

Devin wasn’t paying attention as he watched the newly awakened black bear brushing shards of glass from its fur.

Frank stopped and thought about what he had just said, uncertain whether Devin could do the simple calculations. Listen up, he barked, attempting to draw Devin back into the conversation, EX can get us ten times that if we’re lucky and you saw him in there. I think he’ll win lots of fights.

What do you mean fights? Devin asked, somehow still confused by the clear description Frank had provided.

Because of his brief attention span, and perhaps because Devin was thinking the animals were being sold to zoos or used in a circus or something similar, the fighting circuit concept didn’t register. He knew Frank and Kirk’s business wasn’t an animal rescue outfit but selling them to fight other predators wasn’t quite clicking in his mind. He felt bad for the animals and thought they would be much better off in the wild fending for themselves than they were being raised in this grimy dump.

Try to follow along, dumbass, Frank said bluntly. We sell animals, mostly bears, to fight to the death. Our animals have been doing quite well, although we’ve been getting our asses handed to us by the Russians recently. They’ve been killing us with whatever steroids they’re giving their animals. But EX will change all of that. 

By the time Frank began outlining the situation for the second time, Devin’s attention had once again slipped away, this time wandering to thoughts about his girlfriend. Having not heard much of what Frank had to say, Devin pretended to follow along by nodding his head a few times, thinking he got the gist. From what he could gather, this giant, ugly, deformed, mean-ass bear would fight the Russians and make some money for Frank, Kirk and him.

I’m in, Devin said when Frank paused, knowing a big score when he saw one.

Now understand, this is as illegal as shit, so you need to keep this to yourself. If we get busted, we’ll all be sharing a long stint in the pen, most likely club fed. Although, in my view, that’s not a lot worse than hunting for your dinner every night, Frank said in a self-righteous tone.

I liked a lot of the food they served in there.

Frank ignored Devin’s comment. The way I see it, people raise cattle for slaughter and don’t think twice about it. And these are kinda’ like our cattle. But because people think bears are cute, and kids grow up hugging their little brown-eyed teddy bears, this is illegal but killing a cow isn’t. Doesn’t make a lick of sense to me. You can kill a pig, but not a dog. Chickens are fair game, but not a cat or a bear. So that’s it. Now, can you keep this to yourself? Frank repeated, losing his train of thought.

Yep, I sure can boss.

Look, this could be a tremendous opportunity for you so long as you don’t screw it up. What I’ve heard about you is that you can’t seem to stay away from attracting heat. If you want to make a living breaking the law, you got to play smart, like locking the gates and shutting your damn mouth, Frank scolded once again not yet wanting to let go of the cluster the kid almost put them in.

I didn’t say anything to nobody! Devin snapped back without thinking, choosing to ignore the mistake he made with the lock. In many ways, Devin was afraid of Frank but didn’t like being told what to do either; his emotions were getting the better of him. He couldn’t understand why Frank was pressing so hard. The bear hadn’t gotten loose, and he wasn’t a rat-shit tattletale. And even if he was a little loose-lipped, he could smell a cop a mile away, at least most of the time.

Exasperated, Frank wondered what they had gotten themselves into with this dimwit, concluding they didn’t have too many options. Worst case they would turn the kid into bear lunch, a severe course they used in a similar situation when a prior assistant tried to steal from them.

Listen up real good, Devin. This is very simple. I need you to say... you agree... to keep this operation a top fucking secret!

I won’t tell no one, he replied, lifting his head to make direct eye contact with Frank. He held the stare for a few seconds. I promise, he said with as much sincerity as he could muster.  

Devin understood he wasn’t allowed to tell his dog because Frank had made this very clear, although since he didn’t have a dog, he found the whole idea kind of funny. Somehow this bit of perceived lightheartedness led him to conclude keeping everything a secret did not exclude him from telling his girlfriend. Of course, she’d be ticked off because she was a bit of an animal lover. But he figured she could get past this if he could begin to carry his own weight with some money.

Good, as long as that’s clear, Frank said with finality.

A loud grunt from the backroom signaled EX was waking from its drug-induced nap.

So, what about that thing, how’d it get so mean? the kid asked.

"That bear is a special project. We call him an exotic or just EX for short. The beast is about ninety percent Kodiak and polar bear with a touch of grizzly mixed in just for sheer crazy."

More than crazy, I’d say.

Frank nodded once in agreement. Since before it was born, that thing has been fed a steady diet of growth hormones, steroids, and some sort of animal DNA type shit. A protein sequence is what I think Kirk called it. I really don’t know what all is in that concoction because he coordinated all of that. My guess is it’s a cocktail of lion, tiger, and bear genes straight from the land of Oz, he said chuckling at his own little joke. And not only has EX been... how should I say, genetically altered from the time of conception but he has also had some very special handling. 

How is that?

We have that bear costume over there, Frank said waving his hand in the general direction of a rusty metal cabinet, and we will put it on and torment that bastard with a cattle prod so that he learns to hate other bears. Once he is in the ring, it will be total mayhem. I guess I would almost feel bad for anything in its way if it weren’t for the huge payday we’re gonna’ get. You know, his mother died giving birth to that huge S.O.B., or maybe he clawed his way out of her belly and killed her. Too bad, she was a crossbreed herself, and a big one at that. 

That all seems kind of dangerous to me, Devin said thinking of the close call with the locks.

You think?  It’s a monster and the last thing you want is for it to get loose. That beast could make us a hundred thousand or more, assuming you don’t get us killed first. 

No, I won’t let that happen. I’ll be extra careful with that thing from now on.

Frank turned his head in the direction of the animal’s cage. Look at him, and he’s still a baby!  Just under two years old and he’s as big as a mature grizzly. We’re guessing he’ll top out at well over 1000 kilograms, that’s about a ton. I’d guess that’s the same as what your crappy little car weighs and two or three times the size of your typical grizzly. And in case you didn’t notice, EX’s teeth and claws are a freak of nature. I’d say that genetic cocktail we’re giving him will sure do some serious damage.

Frank’s last statement would prove to be truer than he could have ever imagined.

Chapter Two

A chilly gust of fall Canadian air blew Ryan Callahan’s cap off his head, sending it sailing into a lake just a few steps away. Seemingly indifferent to the loss, the teenager shrugged his shoulders and headed down the forest path.

I’ll get it, Ryan’s father, Terry, said as he rushed over to the lake’s rocky shoreline. He grabbed the cap just before the Cabela's label disappeared beneath the cold, lapping waves.

The father and son team were heading to an old cabin not far from the top of their main ski run to close it down for winter. Being situated northeast of the town of Wilkins Lake in Canada’s Yukon Territory, they knew their property was certain to see a long, hard winter. As the cabin would likely not be used again until spring, they wanted to be sure everything was properly stored and the building secured.

Going to be a few hours before we get back to the lodge so best glue this on your head, Terry said while making a half-hearted attempt to push the water-soaked cap back onto his son’s head.

Ryan snagged the cap just before his father could finish the mischief. Thanks, Dad, but I prefer to stay icicle free for a bit longer. Anyway, I could just order another one online.  

Terry Callahan smirked and playfully shoved his son, who at age seventeen had well outgrown his father. "I thought your grandfather had turned you into a tough and rugged outdoorsman. Don’t know what kind of mountain