by Greig Beck
‘Si, si, thank you, señora Weir.’
Tomás wiped his hand on his shirt and held it out to her, trying to stand a little straighter. Aimee smiled and shook it. He made a gesture with his hand, as if writing in the air. Aimee watched him for a moment before catching on.
‘Oh, you want me to write the title down for you? Sure.’ She nodded and Tomás beamed once again.
* * *
As Aimee approached the isolation cabins, she could hear sobbing — tears of despair from the damned, she thought before shaking the morbid impression from her mind. They had two cabins full now, and there would be need for another shortly. As before, once all the men died, they would seal and burn the cabin. It was a waste of a finite resource, but there was no one to clean them, and they could not risk further infection from the liquid debris.
Aimee had found coveralls, latex gloves and surgical masks for them both. When helping Tomás pull on his protective clothing, she noticed he had pinned her note to his dirty T-shirt. He had insisted on transferring his new job title to the chest of his coverall and it hung there now, like a creased paper sheriff’s badge.
As they stood at the door of the first cabin, she saw the fear in Tomás’s eyes. Everyone in the camp knew of the disease and what it meant to enter the muerto cabana — the death cabin: there was no return.
She pushed through the door and under the plastic sheeting. The smell that greeted her was both acrid and faecal — like shit and diesel fuel mixed together. She saw that Tomás was shivering and touched his shoulder. He looked up briefly and nodded. His eyes were very large and his brown face was tinged yellow from fear.
There were four beds, all occupied. Two of the men recently brought in were conscious and had needed to be tied down to prevent their escape when they learned they had the melting disease. Now they lay still and sobbed black tears onto stained pillows. Plastic sheeting had been hung between the beds to shield the men from seeing the progression and effects of the disease on the poor soul lying next to them.
Aimee indicated with her head towards the two conscious men. ‘Tell them help is coming.’
Tomás nodded and spoke softly, his voice weak with fear. As he stepped closer to the beds, one of the men started shouting and jerked against his bonds. He spat at Tomás, and Aimee only just pulled him out of the way before the black gobbet struck the plastic sheet in front of him and slid slowly to the floor.
Tomás’s hands were up and pressed together in prayer and she could see his mouth moving behind his mask. Good idea, she thought.We could definitely do with some help here. She took him by the arm, led him to the exit and held open the plastic. ‘Wait out here for me, Tomás.’
She closed the door, drew in a strained breath through her mask, and turned to the last two beds at the rear of the hut. Her eyes watered and she blinked to clear them. The man on the first bed was little more than a torso, black column-like stains the only sign of where his arms and legs used to be. The restraints that had bound him sat limply on the discoloured sheets. Aimee moaned before thinking and his head slowly turned towards her. She couldn’t tell whether he actually saw her, as his eyes were totally black, from sclera to pupil. But she felt as if he was looking at her and his despair darkened her soul.
I’m goddamn helpless, she thought. I have no idea what to do. The more she found out, the more she realised how little she knew. She still had no idea how long it took between initial infection and the liquefying symptoms; she knew it was fast — faster in some than others — but just how fast? The lingering question that bothered the hell out of her though was how many infected and infectious people were walking around outside without knowing it?
What she did know was that once the symptoms were apparent, the disease was irreversible. It seemed the nerve endings died first, so the necrotic symptoms were not accompanied by pain — at least, as far as she could tell. Perhaps the brain just refused to believe the signals it was receiving, or became infected itself.
So many questions, she thought. Without power to access the internet or radio communications, she could do little more than record the data and then watch the men die. Just as these men are going to die, she thought miserably.
She backed up a few steps and stood in the centre of the cabin, staring at the floor as her mind worked. She noticed black liquid from one of the beds oozing into the cracks in the wooden flooring. She would have to seal off the cabin soon. Better still, burn it, but she doubted if she could find the strength to do that alone.
She needed to prepare another isolation hut, but she was running out of cabins. And what happened then?
* * *
Below the cabin, the black fluid continued to drip to the ground. Once the rain stopped, most of the clearing dried out quickly, but under the cabins small pools of moisture remained, teeming with mosquito larvae. The growing puddle of black fluid was located next to one of these pools. Its surface surged, as though disturbed by a small wave, and the black fluid slid into the natural pool. The jerking and spinning waterborne larvae within it stopped moving, then, one after another, they all turned black.
SIXTEEN
Alex and Sam walked together in silence, listening to the chaotic commotion of the jungle all around them. It was still only mid-morning and the temperature hadn’t yet reached anywhere near its peak, but the humidity had already begun to climb as the evening’s moisture lifted into the air as a heavy vapour. The steam dragged with it all the smells of the jungle, from the living to the recently dead — rich, dark soil, heavily scented flowers, rotting plants and hidden carcasses. The cycle of life and death was speeded up here: animals and plants died brutally and quickly, and decomposed back into the earth just as rapidly.
Saqueo and Chaco weaved in and out of the foliage just in front of the HAWCs, keen to stay close since the boar attack. But the younger boy avoided even looking at Alex.
The communication stud in Alex’s ear pinged twice: headquarters. He held up a clenched fist and the HAWCs stopped immediately. Sam called to the two boys, and Michael Vargis caught on after bumping into Franks’s back.
Alex walked a few paces ahead. ‘Arcadian,’ he said.
The call was unexpected, which usually meant something new, something bad, or something worse. The studs only had a short range, and the communication satellite had to be focused to allow them to pick up a long-range transmission. Alex’s regular check-ins with headquarters were timed for when the communication bird was doing a sweep over the continent. Seeing this wasn’t a designated intersect time, Alex guessed Hammer deemed whatever information was coming to be critical.
As always, the colonel wasted no time on introductions or pleasantries. ‘Be advised, Arcadian, mining camp has entered an unexpected communications void. VELA is being rerouted and will be “eyes on” in approximately 260 minutes. No detonation heat signature, no prior communication warnings and no new hostile activity encountered — there’s a high probability the problem is technical. No other information until visuals. Over.’
‘Understood. Over.’
Alex exhaled and turned around to look at the team. All their eyes were upon him. He motioned to Sam, who immediately walked forward with eyebrows raised.
‘News, boss?’
‘The mining camp’s in blackout — they don’t know why.’ Alex’s eyes ranged over the jungle surrounding them. ‘But the Hammer wouldn’t rotate a VELA if he thought all was okay. We’re moving too slow, Uncle; we need to pick it up.’
Sam shook his head slowly. ‘We could, but they can’t. We’ll burn them out and then either have to carry them or leave them behind. We can drop the toy soldier, but we’ll need the CDC when we get there.’
Alex stared at the non-HAWCs for a moment, then swivelled to look at Chaco and Saqueo, then back into the jungle.
Sam must have guessed what he was thinking. ‘Boss, I reckon it’d be best if we didn’t split up right now — won’t do a lot of good if you get there hours before us. And if it is a biolo
gical outbreak, those bugs could be even tougher than you. You’re not helping anyone dead — think about that.’
Alex slowly turned back to Sam. ‘You’re right. Hammerson said he’d have visuals in a few hours — nothing we can do till then anyway.’ He nodded towards Michael and Maria Vargis. ‘Let’s grab their packs and push it up another gear.’ He squinted into the thick vegetation again and made a decision. ‘Let’s put the gauntlets on — I think we’re getting close. Inform Mak.’
‘You got it, boss.’ Sam walked back to update the HAWCs.
Alex turned back to the jungle and swore under his breath as he thought about Aimee. That girl sure knows how to find trouble.
Maria Vargis came up to him, wiping her hands together, then rubbing her face, ears and neck. She handed him the small plastic bottle she’d been holding under her arm. ‘Insect repellent — our own brand — CDC strength.’
‘Thanks,’ Alex said. He’d removed his torn sleeves after the boar attack and saw that she was frowning at the scar tissue that had formed over the top of injuries that were only hours old. She looked about to ask a question so he interrupted her.
‘Michael your only son?’
She nodded.
‘And where is Mr Vargis?’
‘Dead, I hope.’ She swore under her breath in Greek before changing the subject. ‘What’s this for?’ She pointed to the dark gauntlet that extended from the top of his armoured glove to just below his elbow.
‘Wild boar repellent — our own brand.’ He winked at her.
She mouthed okay with raised eyebrows, then motioned with her head at the bottle. ‘You should get your team to apply repellent every few hours. Believe me, in an equatorial rainforest environment, there are things that don’t care how big and tough you think you are. To them, you’re just a moving bag of food.’
‘Nice thought.’ Alex chuckled and slathered the lotion over his exposed skin. He knew she was right to be concerned about insects — they were very efficient parasites and disease carriers. In fact, he’d been wondering about them himself.
‘You think the disease in the drill camp may be spread by bugs?’ he asked. ‘That’s where it might have originated?’
Maria shook her head. ‘Down here, the percentage of insects that are haematophagous — blood drinkers — is a large part of the total biomass. Most of them inject an anticoagulant to keep the blood flowing as they feed. A large grouping of warm-blooded mammals, like the campsite, will attract millions of biting and sucking organisms. So I would say, yes, they are my definite suspects for vector transmission. But do I think that’s where the disease came from?’ She sucked in a deep breath as though steeling herself for a distasteful thought. ‘No, I don’t think so. I hope I’m wrong, but I think this could be an incidence of something I have only seen once, via some CDC archival photographs.’
Alex’s eyes were on his team as Maria spoke: Sam had portioned most of the contents of Maria’s and Michael’s packs between the HAWCs and Captain Garmadia. He had set aside the heavier objects, and pointed to them and then to Alex when he saw him watching. Alex nodded; he would take those things himself.
Maria seemed to be thinking of a way to phrase what she wanted to say next. ‘If the information we have been sent by the scientist on site is accurate…’ She stopped and looked up at him. ‘Captain Hunter, do you know Dr Weir? Is she competent?’
Alex walked over to the pile of extra gear and started to incorporate it into his pack. ‘I know Aimee very well,’ he said without looking at Maria, ‘we’re old friends. She’s the best in the world at what she does.’
He felt Maria staring at him; he guessed she was probably smiling.
‘Well, of course she is,’ she said. ‘Okay, now I see why we need to hurry, yes?’
Alex didn’t answer; he wouldn’t be drawn on his and Aimee’s past relationship. Just the thought of her in danger made him want to charge ahead of the group and make sure she was safe. If she’s sick or in trouble, I’ll never forgive myself for taking so long to reach her. He felt his body surge forward of its own accord and had to consciously keep himself in check.
‘Hey!’ Maria was jogging to keep pace with him.
He slowed down slightly and allowed her to catch up, then spoke without turning. ‘Tell me where you saw the disease before.’
‘It’s rare, or we think it’s rare as we’ve only come across it once before — in the 1920s, when South Africa was digging extraordinarily deep mines to keep up its production of gold. But that one time was enough to scare a lot of people and put it straight onto our Bio-hazard Level 1 watch list — in fact, probably as our first inglorious member. The miners went down a long way — miles, in fact — and without all the fancy digging and drilling equipment we have today. Some of the mines were so deep they built donkey stables down there, and even installed beds so the men could sleep between shifts without going back to the surface. As they went deeper, the mines got hotter and the rocks became more pressurised. Did you know that at that depth stone can shatter like glass?’
Alex nodded, his eyes grim. ‘I know a little about working in caves.’
Maria searched his face for a moment then continued. ‘Well, they found more gold, and also diamonds, but also something else. The most famous mine at the time was the Egoli, the great Golden Well. They dug through into a cavern about two miles down that contained a type of stone never seen before, and the sedimentation striations above it were all crushed — as if the new stone had punched through the layers above it and come to rest where it was found. The men decided to take a look inside…and that’s when things went bad. According to the one remaining record, “the stone bled” where they dug into it, dripping a “tar-like substance that stung the eyes and stuck to the skin”. Within a few hours, there were instances of horrifying biocorrosion in both the humans and pack animals. Within a few days, twenty men were dead. Again going by what was said in that one remaining record, the men “just melted away and disappeared between the cracks in the rocks”. Whatever that tar-like substance was, it contained a biological residue that was inimical to living tissue.’ Maria shivered.
‘Jesus Christ. How did they cure it?’ Alex didn’t want to believe this may be the same thing that had closed down Aimee’s camp.
Maria looked at him, her face devoid of emotion. ‘They didn’t. They dynamited the mine and sealed it, with over one hundred men, or what was left of them, still below ground. The mine entrance was bulldozed over, and, to this day, the site is off limits to everyone. We don’t know what the hell that disease was; or if it even was a disease. It may just have been some exotic chemical enzyme that reacted with the salt or oxygen in the human bloodstream. There were no samples taken, and no evidence other than the mine manager’s written records and a few grainy black and white images of the victims, or what remained of them.’
Maria must have seen something in the set of Alex’s jaw. ‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry, but I really hope that your friend isn’t competent. I hope that she’s made some mistakes in her assessment, and this is nothing more than another hantavirus emergence.’ She shrugged her shoulders and went on. ‘The information sent by Dr Weir about the organism’s characteristics immediately set off alarm bells. This potential microbe is on an international risk-assessment watch list for highly communicable diseases. Anything with that level of bio-lethality, anything that fast and transferable, is watched by a number of nations. The CDC watches the Congo, Zaire, Mozambique, the Green Asian Belt and the entire greater Amazon — mainly for the bleed-out viruses. But this type of infection is moving up on our radar because of the depth of new mines. Unfortunately, we may have just come across it again.’
She stepped around in front of him, forcing him to stop. ‘This is critical for both of us — the CDC and the military. You see, we need to understand the disease before we can safeguard against it. But there are other interested parties…Well, you can imagine what would happen if you inserted some of that microbe into a detonati
ng warhead over a densely populated city.’
Alex nodded. ‘I can assure you, I’m not down here to try to find a new weapon, Maria. And I think you’re pretty confident that the Paraguayans drilled this infection up to the surface, and that’s what’s responsible for the quarantine.’
She held his eyes for a moment longer, then gave another shrug of her shoulders, stepped out of his path and walked alongside him again. ‘Unfortunately, that is what I believe, Captain Hunter. Planet Earth has plenty of secrets — hidden in dense jungles, in deep waters, and buried far under the earth. We just keep tripping over them and tearing them out. The Paraguayan site is a fairly deep drill, over a mile, so it fits the historical profile. The images Dr Weir sent were the first we’ve actually seen of the microbe’s physical profile. The accompanying descriptions of the total cellular destruction and necrotising effects on human tissue, its transmission rate…yes, at this stage I have little reason to doubt.’
Maria nodded, apparently more to herself than to Alex. ‘You know, these diseases are usually old. Primordial really. They should never meet us, and they infect humans only by accident. But when they do, their effect on life is usually devastating. It’s strange; it’s like they don’t belong on our world at all.’ Maria’s eyes looked to carry the fatigue of experience when she spoke.
Alex felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter. ‘With our current medical technology, can it be stopped, or cured?’
‘Stopped? Yes, probably. I’m here to see to that, and to ensure it never makes it to the wider population. But cured, inoculated against, denatured, attenuated…?’ She stopped and searched Alex’s face for a few moments, her lips compressed as if she was fighting to keep a secret. After another long moment, she said in a hushed voice, ‘Have you heard of the Ten Protocols, Captain Hunter?’
Alex’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. ‘No.’
