“It looks like a severe form of atavism,” Lorna said.

“And that would be what in English?”

She offered him a small apologetic smile. “Atavism is where a genetic trait, lost for generations, reappears in an individual.”

“A genetic throwback?”

“Exactly. In this case, a throwback to a time before snakes lost their limbs.”

“That’s a mighty long throw, isn’t it?”

She shrugged and moved on. “Most atavism is caused by the accidental recombination of genes. But I don’t think it was accidental here, not with these many cases.”

“So you’re saying someone bred them this way on purpose. Is that even possible?”

“I can’t rule it out. Genetic science has come a long way and continues to push boundaries. At ACRES, we’ve successfully cloned wild cats. We’ve even merged a fluorescent protein from a jellyfish to produce a cat that glows in the dark.”

“Mr. Green Genes. I read about that,” he said. “In fact, it’s one of the reasons why I called for you. I needed an expert on genetics and breeding. Someone to tell me who could have produced this bizarre cargo.”

He led her through the hold. A wire cage held a mass of winged bats the size of footballs.

“Vampire bats,” Lorna said. “But they’re ten times the size they should be. May be a form of primordial gigantism.”

Similarly a caged fox down the row was the size of a bear cub. It hissed and growled and threw itself against the bars. They quickly moved past, stopping briefly at a tall cage that held an ordinary-size parrot, but it had no feathers.

It cawed loudly, leaped to the front bars, and studied them while cocking its head back and forth. Jack had a hard time hiding his disgust. There was something so alien and wrong about its appearance.

Lorna just moved closer. “When baby parrots first hatch, they’re featherless or covered only with a light down. I don’t know if this one’s stunted into an infantile state, or if it’s a throwback, too. In fact, it’s theorized that birds are the closet living relatives of dinosaurs.”