Alice floundered, pushing herself up onto her hands and knees. When she came to, she was aware of two figures fighting. Every instinct in Alice crumbled. She closed her eyes, blinked slowly to find what no parent ever wanted to see.
Her two boys were fighting. Little Lewis had overpowered his older brother Tori. Tori was on his back, writhing, flailing his arms. Lewis’s jaws were growling and snapping, but had as yet not snatched any part of Tori’s exposed skin.
“Lewis!” Alice bellowed.
She got to her feet and scrambled towards him. Tori’s face had grown pale. His good arm was braced against Lewis’s throat. Alice wrapped her arms around her youngest son’s waist, cried, and hoisted him up off his feet.
Tori was freed from Lewis’s rabid motions. He scrambled back. Alice tried to take calming breaths, struggling to contain Lewis’s heated attack.
“Lewis, Lewis, I’m here!” Alice said. “Calm down! It’s me!”
Lewis struggled, ignoring his mother’s pleading tones. A violent swing of his arm caused Lewis’s elbow to collide with Alice’s jaw. Stars exploded behind Alice’s eyes. Her hold faltered for a moment before tightening around the violent child.
“Lewis, stop it!” Alice said. “What’s the matter with you?”
The boy spat and shrieked, growling and hissing like a wild animal.
In the scuffle, Alice’s back slammed against the nearest wall, a portrait of their family crashing to the floor.
“Tori, get me something to hold him down with!” Alice said, wincing when she felt one of Lewis’s nails scratch her cheek.
Tori obeyed, limping toward the nearest closet.
Alice threw Lewis to the floor and pressed her weight upon him, burying his face in the wood. She pressed her knee against his spine to hold him firm. The boy continued to writhe, to wriggle free. Tori returned with a jump rope.
Tori worked the rope around Lewis’s hands and legs, hogtying him. They didn’t dare stop there. Alice and Tori worked together, binding Lewis until he was fully restrained. Still, Lewis continued to struggle, the whites of his eyes stained black. Blood dripped down his cheeks like tears.
Alice and Tori watched in horror as the once sweet little boy roared and spat like a crazed beast, hell-bent on attacking them.
“Call an ambulance,” Alice said.
When Tori turned to look at her, face ashen with fear, she pressed a shaking hand to his cheek.
“What do we do with him?” Tori said.
“We move him to his room and keep the door shut until help gets here,” Alice said. “We’ll figure this out. Everything is going to be all right.”
But looking at the creature lying on the floor now, Alice found that hard to believe.
19.
GRAHAM COULDN’T decide if the reason his stomach was queasy was because of the intensity of the meeting he was due for, or the fact they were in a plane.
If he had been sweating bullets under the severe scrutiny of the Secret Service Agents, he was spewing geysers by the time they escorted him inside Air Force One.
The inside of the War Room was no different than any large state-of-the-art conference room. The long table was chrome, humming with hidden technology. The chairs had glowing blue points at their joints, a connected system of comfortable and effective machinery that would ensure protection and practical use for the user. Graham had only heard of these during his training at NASA.
Graham felt his initial excitement for the tech leave him like a gust of breath after a punch in the gut. He recognized, then, the faces of the men and women sitting at the table, their eyes honed on him with a scrutiny that made Graham feel very small.
At the very head of the table stood President John Andrews. His expression was not unlike the others; focused, cold, calculating. There was nothing warm about this place. The frigidity pressed over Graham with realization.
This was war.
“Graham,” President Andrews said. “Thank you for joining us.”
Graham nodded and said nothing. He hurried to the only empty chair at the table. To his relief, the members of the President’s war cabinet had their eyes focused on their leader.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” President Andrews said with an acknowledging nod. “My esteemed colleague and friend, Dr. Graham Beck.”
Graham gave a weak wave when President Andrews motioned to him.
“He is the expert and scientific genius responsible for the discovery of the ET-V01 virus,” he said. “I’d like you all to listen to him concerning what we are going up against. Graham, if you please.”
Graham tugged at his collar. The tension didn’t quite feel so frigid anymore.
“First of all, I’m not a genius,” Graham said with a nervous chuckle. “My team only saw what was there to be seen, what anyone would have seen if they were only looking for it. The Russians deserve acknowledgement for being the first discoverers.
“The first thing I must stress, before I divulge on any information regarding the virus, is that it is nothing like anything we’ve seen before. From a scientific point of view, this virus has shown signs of adaptability and an invasion rate beyond anything we’ve yet encountered.”
Graham pressed a few buttons on the terminal. The monitor blinked to life. He moved deft fingers over the tablet’s glass screen.
The table’s holographic technology shifted and breathed to life. A series of blue graphs flickered over the table and floated above them. Graham felt comforted by this as he found the right presentation on the tablet’s interface.
Glowing images of strain samples and meteorites appeared in a roulette order, spinning so everyone had a turn to see.
“As you can see,” Graham said, “every sample we’ve received and recorded has a signature of this strain. At first the strain was only found in sample number BK-201. At first, we believed that it was the only one that had the strain. However, a routine check that occurred a week later showed signs of the strain on every piece.”
“This strain, this virus, is everywhere now,” a pitt-faced general called Polinski said. “How do we stop it?”
“We have theories,” Graham said. “By looking at history.”
He flicked his finger through the presentation slides. The roulette of images were as gruesome as they were terrifying.
“The ET-V01 virus is capable of adapting several times faster than the Black Plague, the Smallpox virus, and several other dangerous strains,” he said. “There are over two hundred and forty thousand known cases worldwide, and those are only the ones we’re aware of.”
Expressions of shock and grim realization.
“Cases identified since September showed a rapid reduction in incubation,” Graham said. “And that is what makes it unique.”
The next slide was a looping video of a male human subject. He was being held in a cushioned room, strapped with a straight-jacket. It was Otto.
“Initial symptoms are moderate to high fever, drowsiness, fatigue in the first few days,” Graham said. “They are immediately followed by cold chills, severe migraines, and a bloody nose. This is where this virus’s similarities with the other viruses end, however.”
The video showed the subject lashing out and attacking the walls. A team of guards rushed into the room to restrain the subject. The enraged man lunged for one of the men, knocking them both down and out of sight. The subject tore at the guards.
“It appears the virus does not fully seize the human brain until a certain catalyst occurs, usually an extreme reaction of stress, or rage,” Graham said.
“This is where the name for the Rages comes from,” President Andrews said. “It is likely that becoming enraged is the final stage of the virus’s transformation.”
The video continued until the subject turned on a man who grabbed him. A large splatter of blood slapped against the cushioned walls in the room. The reaction in the War Room was a series of gasps.
“The majority of the areas of the outbreak are believed to be Cali
fornia, Moscow, and Shanghai,” Graham said. “A great number of the Perseid shower fragments are believed to have landed there.”
“How far has the disease spread?” the general said.
Graham pulled up another diagram. A map of the United States, showing a red section that covered Orange County.
“This is where it was estimated to be in September,” he said. “This is how it could have spread by now.”
Another image. This one of the red stain spreading beyond California, toward the Mid-West.
“We get the picture,” President Andrews said.
“Is this virus fatal?” General Polinski said.
“An estimated thirty percent of people who contract the disease will die,” Graham said. “The rest will become Rages.”
“What about those with immunity?” General Polinski said.
Graham shook his head.
“We have heard of no known cases of immune subjects,” he said.
“So no one is safe from this virus?” General Polinski said.
Graham hesitated for a moment.
“As far as we know,” he said. “Still, it’s been a few weeks since this virus took hold. We’re getting word of new cases every minute. If there are immune people out there, we haven’t heard from them yet.”
The news played on the minds of the war cabinet with profound heaviness. One of the men let out a shuddering sigh and rubbed a handkerchief over his forehead. The motion allowed Graham to see into the older man’s pale face and a wave of guilt washed over him. Graham let his chin fall to his chest, throat tight.
“We will focus on our own borders for now,” President Andrews said. “We must help our people first and foremost. I am establishing an emergency martial law over the entire country, effective immediately. We will lock down all ports and attempt to contain this virus before it spreads further.”
“What about our Armed Forces outside the country?” General Polinski said.
“We cannot call them back at this time,” President Andrews said. “But we can shut them down so they will defend themselves the same way we will be.”
“I want to avoid infecting more people than we already have,” President Andrews said. “Factions stationed in territories and other countries should do little to expose themselves to others. Meanwhile, we will deploy the reserve throughout the country to ensure minimum casualties and further infections.”
“Sir, I recommend setting up quarantine sections,” Graham said, raising his hand in suggestion. “The quicker we can round up the infected and keep them away from the public, the better.”
“I agree,” President Andrews said. “Assuming these areas have remained uninfected, we can set up zones in the Nevada Desert, the Utah Salt Flats, and parts of the Appalachian valleys. Let’s get it done.”
Everyone began to move, rising from their chairs.
“If this virus is as dangerous and as fatal as Dr. Beck says,” General Polinski said, “then we need to ensure we can protect ourselves. I propose an attack on the infected.”
The war room erupted into verbal pandemonium.
“That’s ridiculous!“
“Perhaps it’s the only way!“
“And risk civil war?”
“We have no other options at this point. . .”
“People deserve the right to protect themselves—”
“Not at the cost of other’s lives!”
“Enough!” President Andrews said, banging his palms on the table.
The arguments died immediately.
Graham watched his friend with wide eyes, speechless. He’d never seen him so angry before.
“I will not risk mass genocide, infected or otherwise,” President Andrews said. “These Rages will be gathered and quarantined with as little risk as possible. If we open fire now, the public will panic, and we will lose the only level of control we have. We cannot allow the country to fall to its knees.”
“So what are we going to do?” General Polinski said. “Quarantine them and then what?”
“We cure them,” President Andrews said.
Graham blinked in surprise. He was not prepared when he felt President Andrews’ eyes—everyone’s eyes—turn to him. It was not their looks that filled Graham’s lungs with pressure, but the look of desperate hope in President Andrews’ eyes.
“That is your objective, Dr. Beck,” President Andrews said. “I hope you’re up to it. Find the cure.”
20.
GRAHAM SHOVED deep breaths into his lungs like an overstuffed suitcase. Lights from cameras and video lenses honed over his face. He didn’t notice them though, too focused on the many medical face masks that covered reporter faces and the protective gloves on the cameramen’s hands. Desperation and hopelessness clung to their eyes. Graham’s stomach wavered with tension, yet he stood strong.
“Dr. Graham Beck has created a team of the highest qualified professionals and experts to crack down on the mysteries of this virus and put a stop to it,” the PR official said.
Graham recalled Beatrix and her words of encouragement.
“You are the only qualified man to lead them,” she’d said.
She’s right, Graham thought. But it didn’t help him much when he looked into the eyes of the people who glared at him like they wanted to crucify him. Graham’s shaking fingers tightened over a smooth stone charm; a good luck gift from Beatrix.
Graham strode toward the podium and stopped at the mahogany desk. He gave the cameras a decisive nod and cleared his throat.
“We will stop at nothing until we find results,” Graham said. “Our world will come together to defeat this threat, and we will succeed.”
He swallowed down hard.
We have no choice but to. But by God, that was what needed to be said.
21.
THE AIRPORT was deserted when Graham crossed the tile floors and zoomed through the many yards of silent space. There was no airport security, no lines to wait in, no greeters at shops. It was lifeless.
Two agents guided him through the platforms until they arrived at the terminals. The only sounds were the soft clatter of his hurried footsteps and the squeaking wheels of his worn-out luggage bag.
Emerging outside, a warm breeze ensnared him, tugging at his clothes. Just several meters away stood a private jet, white and gleaming beneath the sunlight. Stairs awaited him before the jet’s open door. They looked far too much like a gaping mouth for his liking.
Not another airplane, Graham thought.
It was as fancy as a private jet could get, complete with leather upholstery and redwood embellishments. The spacious inside had seats that faced each other rather than one way. Graham’s slack expression tightened when he saw he was not alone.
The man was dressed in a fine suit, his face gleaming with that freshly-shaved look. He had already made himself comfortable, judging by the small cup of espresso in his hands. As soon as he saw Graham, he perked up and set his cup down before waving him over.
“Come right in, Dr. Beck,” the man said with unusual cheer.
Graham shuffled inside, sitting on the chair the man gestured to. The man gave him a polite smile before jumping into conversation.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said. “I’m Benjamin Kirschstein, Secretary of State.”
Graham blinked in surprise.
“You’re probably wondering why we’ve never met, am I right?” Kirschstein said. “I was unavailable for the meeting you and my colleagues had back on the President’s plane. Matters of international affairs. It turns out our most pressing international concern right now is right here, at home.
“You’ll be pleased to know that we’ve gathered the finest scientists in all relevant fields at your disposal. From epidemiologists, astrobiologists, chemical engineers. . . and other fields I’d never even heard of.”
He laughed, loud and boisterous. Graham forced a smile, nodding.
“How long do you think you’ll take to find a cure?” Kirschstein said
. “Two, three weeks?”
Graham gawked, taken aback by the question.
“Weeks?” he said.
“Is it too much?” Kirschstein said, waving his hand as if he had told a joke. “I don’t know how quick you people are these days. You always do such incredible things. But honestly, what are we looking at?”
“I can’t answer that, sir,” Graham said. “I’m afraid I won’t know until I work with the team.”
“Of course,” Kirschstein said, head bobbing up and down. “I’m sure you’ll have this all figured out soon enough. You can imagine how inconvenient this whole affair has been for people like me. Having to run around, covering up nature’s little hiccups like this.”
Graham’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Inconvenient?
The politician pressed on, lifting his cup of espresso to his lips and taking a slow sip.
“Yes, pulling all kinds of resources to building safe houses and halting important deals all over a little virus,” he said. “I’ve had to put a halt on a crucial deal with a few engineers in Germany known as the Rockbell family. Hopefully, as soon as you find a way to deal with this Rage infestation, we’ll get back to business as usual.”
The disgust in Graham’s chest broiled to honest loathing.
“Sir, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I’m not here to cure an ‘inconvenience’ as you call it,” Graham said. “People are dying. We’re dealing with a very real situation that is killing people.”
“Of course, of course,” Kirschstein said, nodding again. “Forgive me, I spoke too casually. It’s a terrible thing really, but people like me can’t focus on the negative in life. We have to always look, and prepare for, a bright tomorrow. As should you.”
That’s fine for fairytales, but this is real life. Hope did not make the world turn. Nature did.
Graham stifled the urge to slap the espresso from the man’s hand. Instead, he sat back and waited for the plane to take off. His heart was a storm of anger and disdain.
The plane ride remained tense and awkward after that. When they touched down, Graham didn’t spare Kirschstein any parting words—he was too busy unloading on his cell in any case—something about canceled concert tickets. If there was a man unprepared for what was coming, it was him.
After the Fall- The Complete series Box Set Page 72
