Gargoyles

by Dr. Alan Nayes

• ISBN13: 9780765300102
• ISBN10: 0765300109
• Format: Trade Book
• Copyright: 2001-08-25
• Publisher: Forge Books

Summary

With the recent completion of the human genome project, speculation on future genetic research has run wild. Most people fear what might happen once humans have the ability to create perfect children. What will it mean when the human race no longer has to deal with natural imperfections-when science can be used to eradicate disability, disease, unique features, asymmetrical faces? But little attention has been given to the other possibility of such research: what will happen now that the human race may have the ability to create perfectly imperfect children? The research industry-and the human race-may never be the same. Brilliant pre-med student Amoreena Daniels needs money desperately. Her mother is dying of metastatic cancer, and the medical insurance has run out. When told of a new cancer study that offers some measure of hope for patients in her mother's condition, Amoreena is thrilled-until she realizes that the treatment will cost $30,000. When a seemingly legitimate women's clinic offers Amoreena $50,000 for service as a surrogate mother, Amoreena thinks her prayers have been answered. But then-much too early-her baby begins to move. The strange dreams, another surrogate's mysterious death, and a drug-addicted former medical intern confirm Amoreena's worst suspicion: there is something terribly wrong with her pregnancy. Amoreena embarks on a dangerous journey to uncover the truth behind the endless battery of genetic tests, sonograms, and frightened patients, only to discover that she has unwittingly become a pawn in a high-stakes game of biomedical experimentation. In the tradition of Robin Cook and Richard Preston, Alan Nayes has written an absorbing, terrifying novel about what happens when human beings have the ability to save countless lives-by changing the face of humanity.

Author Biography

Alan Nayes was born in Houston and grew up on the Texas gulf coast. After
attending medical school at the University of Texas Medical Branch in Galveston, he moved to Southern California where he divides his time and energies between medicine and writing. The author of five screenplays and the critically-acclaimed biomedical thriller, Gargoyles, he holds a U.S. Patent and trademark.

An avid outdoorsman and fitness enthusiast, he is one of only a few individuals to ever swim across Wisconsin's chilly Lake Winnebago. When not working on his next project, he enjoys relaxing and fishing at the family vacation home in Wisconsin.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Somewhere near Itzimte Ruins, Guatemala, rainy season

She turned her first trick four months shy of her thirteenth birthday. Patricio had been a small man, only a boy really, being just two years older than she. His father had been a teniente in the security police that patrolled Mexico City, and he'd paid sixty pesos for Gabriella's services. Gabriella wasn't her real name then, but it was the name she'd used while plying her trade, and it was how she was currently registered at Las Canas.

Now, three years later, the teenage girl with the truculent almond eyes sat huddled under a gnarled tree limb, seeking refuge from the tropical shower. Her skin glistened moist from sweat and precipitation, and she could smell her own fear above the pungent odor of the earth.
Gabriella stroked one have across her gravid abdomen, then quickly climbed from the security and cover of the lush vegetation to resume her flight alone the muddy carretera that would eventually lead her to San Andres. Nightfall was fast approaching. She pressed onward, prodding herself another half kilometer, though her feet and thighs cried out for rest. Surrounded by miles of unfettered jungle that comprised the Guatemalan lowland rain forests, she longed for a shortcut. There was none. And carved out of this most intimidating habitat in all of Central America had been Las Canas.

Wump. Wump. Wump. Wump. Los helicoperos. The choppers.

"Mi bebé!" My baby. Gabriella dashed back under the gloomy cover of the rain-forest canopy. She would rather risk an encounter with el tigre or even Desmodus rotundus, the loathsome bloodsucking vampire bat.

Wump. Wump. Wump. Anything but the choppers. She could never return to Las Canas. Never.

Gabriella clutched desperately at her stomach. It heaved with each laborious breath. She couldn't maintain this frenetic pace, it was impossible. She forced herself to think through the tears, through the pain. She might still stand a chance if she could thwart their initial assault.

Wump. Wump. Wump. Wump.

"Que mierda,"Gabriella cried out.

Her hands protected her eyes as she stumbled farther through the thick underbrush. Thorns ripped at her skin, and vines threatened to ensnare her ankles as if they possessed wills of their own.

She tripped, stumbling forward. Terror gripped her like a giant anaconda. Her breaths catapulted from her convulsing chest in short gasps.

Oh Dios, por favor, she prayed. Please, God. If she could just make it to the Itzimté Ruins before dark.

High above her head, the canopy of epiphytes, vines, and towering ferns gyrated into a living tempest. The powerful downdraft from the Sikorsky's blades created a whirlwind of flying debris.

Gabriella threw herself on the forest floor, cowering under the onslaught of tangled vegetation.
Wump. Wump. Wump. Wump.

"No!" she cried. "No!"

With nothing to cling to but remnants of past dreams, Gabriella began to pray. She prayed for herself. She prayed for Las Canas. But mostly she prayed for the bebés.

The men from the platación de azúcan were coming.

Excerpts

Prologue

Somewhere near Itzimte Ruins, Guatemala, rainy season

She turned her first trick four months shy of her thirteenth birthday. Patricio had been a small man, only a boy really, being just two years older than she. His father had been a teniente in the security police that patrolled Mexico City, and he'd paid sixty pesos for Gabriella's services. Gabriella wasn't her real name then, but it was the name she'd used while plying her trade, and it was how she was currently registered at Las Canas.

Now, three years later, the teenage girl with the truculent almond eyes sat huddled under a gnarled tree limb, seeking refuge from the tropical shower. Her skin glistened moist from sweat and precipitation, and she could smell her own fear above the pungent odor of the earth.
Gabriella stroked one have across her gravid abdomen, then quickly climbed from the security and cover of the lush vegetation to resume her flight alone the muddy carretera that would eventually lead her to San Andres. Nightfall was fast approaching. She pressed onward, prodding herself another half kilometer, though her feet and thighs cried out for rest. Surrounded by miles of unfettered jungle that comprised the Guatemalan lowland rain forests, she longed for a shortcut. There was none. And carved out of this most intimidating habitat in all of Central America had been Las Canas.

Wump. Wump. Wump. Wump. Los helicoperos. The choppers.

"Mi bebé!" My baby. Gabriella dashed back under the gloomy cover of the rain-forest canopy. She would rather risk an encounter with el tigre or even Desmodus rotundus, the loathsome bloodsucking vampire bat.

Wump. Wump. Wump. Anything but the choppers. She could never return to Las Canas. Never.

Gabriella clutched desperately at her stomach. It heaved with each laborious breath. She couldn't maintain this frenetic pace, it was impossible. She forced herself to think through the tears, through the pain. She might still stand a chance if she could thwart their initial assault.

Wump. Wump. Wump. Wump.

"Que mierda,"Gabriella cried out.

Her hands protected her eyes as she stumbled farther through the thick underbrush. Thorns ripped at her skin, and vines threatened to ensnare her ankles as if they possessed wills of their own.

She tripped, stumbling forward. Terror gripped her like a giant anaconda. Her breaths catapulted from her convulsing chest in short gasps.

Oh Dios, por favor, she prayed. Please, God. If she could just make it to the Itzimté Ruins before dark.

High above her head, the canopy of epiphytes, vines, and towering ferns gyrated into a living tempest. The powerful downdraft from the Sikorsky's blades created a whirlwind of flying debris.

Gabriella threw herself on the forest floor, cowering under the onslaught of tangled vegetation.
Wump. Wump. Wump. Wump.

"No!" she cried. "No!"

With nothing to cling to but remnants of past dreams, Gabriella began to pray. She prayed for herself. She prayed for Las Canas. But mostly she prayed for the bebés.

The men from the platación de azúcan were coming.

---

Excerpted from Gargoyles by Alan Nayes
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.