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Former ER doctor Peter Clement blends electrifying human drama with the suspense of top-notch medical thrillers. With Mutant he has written one of his most gripping, utterly chilling novels to date.
On an isolated stretch of highway in Oahu, a woman cradles her dying son in her arms. In the days that follow, an autopsy draws a shocking conclusion: the boy, his lungs filled with blood, died of a disease previously found only in birds. On the other side of the globe, Dr. Richard Steele, a burned-out ER doctor is being recruited into a movement to examine the hazards of genetically modified foods, a job that takes him to an explosive conference in Hawaii.
Spearheaded by a charismatic female doctor, the anti-bioengineering movement is gathering steam. While a powerful company is using genetic breakthroughs to create disease-resistant super crops, activists warn that new DNA strains will wreak havoc on the environment. But no one suspects that the controversy is masking a far more frightening human threat–one that could lead to the deadliest weapon of mass destruction ever unleashed upon the world. . . .
are also designed to turn on if any primate, man included, ingests the corn. When it’s in the form of ground meal used for baked goods, the Ebola RNA survives the temperatures of baking. When it’s eaten whole from the cob, even after boiling, the fleshy coat of the kernels provides sufficient protection to the added gene. As a result, a significant number still reach the gut intact, which is where they encounter the “trigger” enzymes that activate them. In other words, we believe we have devised
better or worse than the thousand other novice doctors whom he’d guided through the shoals of ER over the years. With a pang of loss he remembered the heady days when he’d actually adored taking them under his wing and building their confidence. Teacher of the Year, they’d repeatedly voted him before he lost all capacity for the joy of it. Now the phrase made him wince: If any resident had said it of him over the past eighteen months it could only have been in sarcasm. He knew that the sole
teased. “And what makes you think that, smart aleck? I’m off to a business meeting is all.” “Then how come you put on the emeralds, Mommy dear?” Sullivan gave her daughter a wry grin. “You are an imp!” “And you’re beautiful, Mom. Have a good time.” She’d felt like a nervous schoolgirl when she rang his doorbell and asked to see him. The housekeeper had stared so unbelievingly at her that at first she thought it must be the wrong house. “Please, come in,” the woman had finally said. “I’m
but especially in his head and chest. Even before he opened his eyes, his thinking became less scrambled and the doctor in him reflexively took inventory. The general aches, he knew, were from the kick the countershocks had delivered to every single muscle in his body, convulsing each of them through the equivalent of a full workout in a fraction of a second. The pain in his chest he attributed to the combined effect of the electrical discharges and external cardiac massage. A tentative
his growing frenzy while he continued to kiss her, his lips passing to the line of her jaw and along her neck. She heard herself give deep-throated moans and clung even harder to him. “Do you have something?” “No,” he answered, opening her buttons and caressing the tops of her breasts. “Do you?” “Yes,” she whispered, breathless as he slipped her blouse open and found her nipples with his mouth, teasing them with flicks of his tongue and gentle sucks. She began to undress him, easily disposing