Broken Chain

by Lisa von Biela

  Les stopped, leaned over, and rested his arms on the wood fence. Sitting alone in his house, he could almost convince himself that something would change soon, that things would return to normal and he could continue with his veterinary practice. But here, out in the field where things were real, he could see that wasn’t true. There was nothing left for him anymore, just as there was nothing left for any of his clients.

  He’d become obsolete, and he didn’t have the energy or desire to make something new of himself at his age. He pursed his lips and frowned, then took one last look at Marty’s pasture and got back in his truck. He started it, wipered the snow off the windshield, and pulled back onto the road with no particular destination in mind.

  CHAPTER 69

  Long after everyone else had gone home for the night, Ted Warner sat in his office, staring at his computer screen with bleary eyes as he scrolled through the threat data compiled so far. He had assistants organizing the lab results as they came in and entering them into a single database for his use. For each individual tested, it contained: name, ID number, full address, age, sex, whether the individual harbored B. metasonis, and whether the individual was already detained by law enforcement. He could filter and sort the data as he wished.

  The overall percentage of positives was in line with what he expected, about forty-seven percent. There was nothing special about the geographic distribution, except that families living together tended to all harbor the specific strain of bacteria.

  The testing phase would be complete soon, and he needed to be ready to act on the results. He considered the possibilities. Those who tested negative were in the clear—at least for now. It might be wise to retest that part of the population in the future, to see if they somehow acquired the bacteria later on. But that was a question for another day.

  For those who tested positive—and weren’t already under some form of detention—what to do? Ted sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes as he worked through the problem. Was there any time gap to exploit between the consumption of the defective valine and the eventual effects on the brain? If there was, then maybe the mandatory administration of antibiotics to kill the metasonis would suffice to break the chain. If not, then he’d have to more aggressive in his approach. Much more aggressive.

  And if no one knew the answer with certainty, then he’d be better off going all out to eradicate the problem. The Homeland could not continue to suffer from the violence that plagued it. It wasn’t his job to be popular; it was his job to keep the Homeland safe. At any cost.

  CHAPTER 70

  Kyle pulled his rented Camry into Lakeside’s parking lot and idled for a few minutes with the heater blasting. Fortunately, he’d found a sympathetic neighbor at the extended-stay place to watch Lara when he went to visit Gretchen each day. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but it was better than dragging her to the hospital and having an already overworked nurse take time away from all those patients to watch her.

  For that matter, nothing whatsoever about their situation was ideal at the moment, and he had no idea what to do about that. He spent his days mired in it, helpless to make things better, let alone right. It tore at his heart every time Lara looked up at him with those pleading eyes and asked about her mommy—and why did Mommy get so mad at her that she had to hurt her? He wondered how long she would swallow the story that Mommy just needed a little rest.

  The painful routine had gone on for a little more than a month now, with no end in sight. Eventually, he’d have to think of something more long-term. This wasn’t their home, and they couldn’t live in this suspended animation indefinitely. If Gretchen had to remain institutionalized the rest of her life, they should at least relocate either her or themselves to regain some semblance of stability. Vic had been generous about granting him leave, but that couldn’t last forever and there would be bills to pay. He’d have to return to work at some point, and now he wasn’t even sure he wanted to return to the EIS.

  He wiped the condensation off the inside of the windshield with his mittened hand and glanced up. The mid-January snow had stopped for now, but the gunmetal gray sky hinted at more to come. He sighed, shut off the engine and prepared himself to go in there and visit Gretchen.

  If you could call it visiting, that is. Like all the other violent residents, they had her so heavily drugged she barely seemed alive, let alone conscious of his presence. He wondered if Gretchen would remember what she’d done to Lara if she were less medicated. Maybe it was better for her to be shielded from that memory.

  As he kicked the snow from his boots and entered the hospital, he saw several nurses and orderlies clustered farther down the hall. He stopped at the nurses’ station and asked the duty nurse about the commotion.

  “Well, since you’re from the EIS, I suppose it’s okay to tell you. In fact, you should be told, now that I think of it.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “The strangest thing. The ones who’re here because the jails filled up have been dying. It started with the ones who came here first. Then the ones who came in the next wave. It seems related to the time since the onset of their violent symptoms.”

  Kyle took a sharp breath as the implications struck him. The first wave had come in about six months ago. Was it possible that the condition was terminal? And if so, what did that mean for Gretchen? His throat tightened at the thought.

  “Have they been performing autopsies?”

  “Yes, though they’re getting a little backed up now. Dr. Kaiser could tell you what they’ve found so far. He’s probably downstairs in the morgue. I could let him know you need to speak with him.”

  “Yes, please do. I’d like to have a word with him after I visit my wife.”

  “I’ll tell him, Dr. Sommers.”

  “Thanks.” Kyle turned and headed toward Gretchen’s ward, his mind reeling. Was there any way to prevent the deaths? And would there be any point in it? If the brain change was permanent and those affected couldn’t be rehabilitated, was there really anything humane to be done for them?

  But Gretchen …

  He stepped into her ward and averted his eyes from the other beds as he approached hers. He stopped at the foot of her bed and gazed at her. No change. None whatsoever. She still looked like she wasn’t even there. Of course, the drugs had a lot to do with that, but now that her brain was changed, who was she? Was she even Gretchen anymore?

  Kyle moved to the head of her bed. He took her cool, soft hand in his, wincing at the sight of the vile leather restraint that tethered her wrist. He squeezed her limp hand. No response. Her glazed eyes stared straight up at the ceiling.

  He leaned down close to her and spoke softly near her ear. “Gretchen … Gretchen, do you hear me?” He straightened up again and stared down at her blank, drawn face. She wasn’t even getting a decent diet in this place. Good protein sources inexpensive enough for institutional use remained unattainable.

  He took a deep breath and sighed. She didn’t even know he was there. He might as well go see Dr. Kaiser and find out what was going on. He reached down and gently touched her cheek.

  Her eyes suddenly widened and she turned to him, an expression of pure hate on her face. She snarled and tried to bite him, growling and snapping like some vicious, rabid beast. He jumped back, startled and terrified, nearly tripping in his haste. She fought her restraints and screamed. Patients around her reacted to the uproar in kind, shrieking and struggling in their beds.

  He clapped his hands to his ears and staggered out of the ward to go alert the nurse.

  Kyle parked himself in a stiff vinyl chair in the visitors’ lounge, elbows on knees and a paper cup of cold water in his hands. He took a sip now and then, more for something to do than anything else. The lounge was empty except for him, and he was grateful for the solitude. Gretchen’s episode reawakened his memory of that horrible night she tried to kill Lara—that look in her eye, that evil determination she had. He now believed that the last time he saw her before that attac
k was the last time he would ever again see the Gretchen he’d known, loved, and had married.

  The door to the visitors’ lounge swung open. An older man in green scrubs stepped in and glanced toward him. “Dr. Sommers, I presume?”

  He set his cup on the table beside his chair, then stood. “Yes, that’s me.”

  The other man approached him and held out his hand. “I’m Dr. Kaiser. I understand you wanted to speak with me.”

  “Yes. Yes, I did.” Kyle shook his hand, then sat back down.

  Dr. Kaiser pulled up a chair, lowered himself into it as if he carried a hundred-pound weight on his back, and let out a long, weary breath. “Looks like this is as good a place as any. We don’t get many visitors here anymore.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I understand you’re the EIS investigator who figured this all out.”

  “Yes, I am.” Kyle didn’t feel like enduring a round of congratulations for his work, so he moved on quickly. “I understand there’ve been fatalities—specifically among those in the first wave of admissions. Well, not the usual admissions, but the ones they housed here because of the lack of jail space.”

  Dr. Kaiser rubbed his temples as if he had a headache. “That’s right. When I look at their admission dates, it’s almost like a switch went off. Those who began exhibiting their violent symptoms right about six months ago, they’re the ones dying now. The correlation is quite consistent.”

  “What’s the cause of death?”

  “To be honest, I’ve gotten behind because of the volume, so I haven’t examined them all yet. But the ones I have autopsied all show the same pathology.” He paused and stared at the floor. “I’ve never seen anything like it. In each of them, without exception, the amygdala has hypertrophied—grown to the extent that it created massive intracranial pressure and eventually crushed the rest of the brain.”

  “How could this happen? It wouldn’t be an overnight process.”

  “No, six months isn’t exactly overnight, but it does indicate rather rapid growth of that portion of the brain. The heavy meds they keep those patients on likely masked any symptoms, like the intense headaches that would’ve undoubtedly accompanied that kind of growth. An unexpected mercy, I’d say.”

  “So do you think …” Kyle swallowed, then forced himself to choke out the next words. “Do you think anything can be done proactively for the others?”

  Dr. Kaiser sighed and shook his head. “No. I don’t even see what could be done. The tissue wasn’t cancerous—not that brain cancer is a cinch to treat. So chemo wouldn’t have worked. It simply grew and took over. Cancer-like in that way, but without the abnormal cells associated with cancer. Just totally normal cells, growing and multiplying at an incredibly rapid rate. No, I don’t think there is anything that can be done to stop the process.”

  Kyle picked up his cup and took a sip of water, then set the cup back down before speaking again. “So, you expect to see more of this.”

  “If it keeps to the pattern, I expect I’ll be able to predict it by looking at admit dates. I’m sorry I didn’t get this information out to EIS or you before. I got hit with such a wave of it, then only recently finished enough posts to see the pattern.”

  “I’m actually on leave right now, but I’ll make sure the information gets to the right place.”

  “Oh, I thought you came here to investigate the deaths.” Dr. Kaiser wore a puzzled look.

  Kyle hesitated, then stared down at the linoleum floor, white and cold as death. “I’m here visiting my wife. She was admitted last month.” He looked back up, straight into Dr. Kaiser’s eyes. “So I guess she has about five months left.”

  CHAPTER 71

  Vic Rayburn hesitated before knocking. He didn’t like it one bit when the Department of Homeland Security felt it necessary to stick its nose in CDC business. He accepted that programs like forced quarantine were sometimes justified as a last resort, but DHS seemed far more willing to suspend civil liberties than he thought was appropriate.

  His discomfort had risen to an all-time high since Ted Warner took over as chief of DHS. The man was simply incapable of taking individual rights into consideration. And now he wanted to discuss the valine problem again. Vic had been alarmed enough when Ted had mandated testing the entire population for B. metasonis. He dreaded what today’s conversation might entail.

  He raised his hand and knocked.

  “Come in.”

  Vic let himself in and took a seat without offering to shake hands. He had to admit national security had been disrupted by the wave of violence. Now that they knew the cause, and that it had a physical mechanism, Ted would undoubtedly want to take some over-the-top action. Vic was afraid to hear what Ted had in mind.

  “First, I want to say, nice work by your department, Vic. Really impressive. You’ve got some sharp people, or we’d still be fighting the symptoms, rather than the root of the problem.”

  Vic bristled at Ted’s disingenuous smile. “Thanks. Got a great crop of investigators in the program this year.”

  The smile disappeared as quickly as it had materialized, leaving a cold, ruthless look in its wake. “Well, I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll get right to the point.” Ted waved his hand toward his PC. “When we finish processing the results, we’ll have a database of all individuals who harbor metasonis. I need to ask you a few questions so I can plan what to do next.”

  “Yeah.” Vic could feel his jaw clench.

  Ted rubbed his palms together. “So, once someone who harbors metasonis has been exposed to the defective valine, is there any question that they’ll become violent at some point?”

  Vic shifted in his chair. “We don’t know for sure. We do know that once violence is exhibited, it isn’t reversible. But it’s impossible to do random, controlled testing under the circumstances. The brain changes might be preventable if the bacteria were eliminated before they responded to the defective valine. But we don’t know if that’s possible, and if it is, how long that window might be.”

  Ted scowled as he absorbed the information. “What happens once an individual becomes violent—other than the obvious? What happens after that point? Presumably anyone who’s already exhibited violence has been taken into custody, right?”

  “That’s correct. Depending on local jail capacity, many of these individuals have been transferred to mental institutions, for both space and care considerations. We’re getting reports now that this condition runs a certain predictable course. After about six months from the onset of violent symptoms, death results from hypertrophy of the amygdala.”

  “What?”

  Vic sighed. “One portion of the brain grows so fast, it crushes the rest of the brain inside the skull.”

  Ted’s eyes lit up. “You mean it’s self-limiting? They die after six months?”

  Vic wanted to slap the gleeful look off Ted’s face. “Apparently so. And because of the nature of the growth, there appears to be no treatment available. It’s a death sentence for these people.”

  Ted leaned back in his chair, gazed up at the ceiling, and gnawed on the end of his pen. “Well, that solves part of the problem quite nicely. Self-limiting, and the deaths will also reopen storage space for those who’ll become violent later on. I wish we had better information about any window of time to eliminate the bacteria before the brain changes are triggered.” He dropped his pen on his desk with an air of finality. “We’ll have to make do with what we have.”

  Ted’s sanguine tone made Vic uneasy. “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll have to head off whatever cases we can proactively. Is there an existing antibiotic that eliminates metasonis?”

  “Well, yes.”

  Ted leaned forward and started making notes on a pad. “Good. Now. We’ll be dealing with a lot of recipients, so we need compliance to be as simple as possible. Can it be administered in a single injection, as opposed to some multi-day pill regimen?”

  “It can, but the pill regimen is preferred for a number of rea
sons. Metasonis is only sensitive to one antibiotic. Unfortunately, that antibiotic causes severe side effects in certain people, as well as fetal death in pregnant women. With the pill regimen, it’s at least possible to stop treatment if problems arise. With the single injection, there’s no turning back and any reaction would be swifter and far more severe.”

  Ted avoided eye contact as he made more notes and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “That’s unfortunate, but we don’t have the resources to monitor compliance. Not on this scale. We need to be able to administer, confirm, and chip each recipient on the spot. Bad enough we don’t know if this will prevent a single case. But it sounds like it’s the only proactive thing left that we can do.”

  “We don’t know that it’ll prevent any cases. It’s not worth the risk to those who would have dangerous reactions to the drug.”

  Ted looked up, shook his head, and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “That doesn’t even make sense on its face. Vic, you have to understand, this is a compromise on my part. The alternative is to simply detain everyone who tested positive for metasonis, for as long as necessary. That would really be the ultimate way to protect the Homeland from those people, those … time bombs waiting to become violent.”

  “You’d really do that if you could, wouldn’t you?”

  Ted gave him a surprised look. “Of course I would. It offers perfect protection, given the nature of the problem. If I had the space capacity to do it, you can be sure I’d have already issued the order.”

  CHAPTER 72

  Celia’s breath caught when she heard the knock at her front door. It was the knock she’d been dreading. She held her six-year-old son Joey in her lap and instinctively tightened her arms around him. He’d been home from school for days, sick with some bug or another. He’d always been a sickly kid, allergic to everything.

  She knew from the news stories that the police were going door to door to the homes of everyone who tested positive for that stomach bacteria that reacted with meats and other animal-protein products. Well, they’d taken those products off the shelves months ago. Why wasn’t that enough?