by Vic Sandel
She grabbed Jessie in a huge, tight hug and gave him the biggest, longest, kiss she was capable of. “Now you need to get out of here, I've got work to do.”
Chapter15
Eye in the Sky
A little over two-hundred-five miles above the earth, the International Space Station completed another orbit. It had circled the planet roughly every hour-and-a-half, at least in part since 1998. Since November 2000, it had seen visitors from over fifteen countries. For the last thirteen-plus years it has been occupied and regularly supplied by the ships, such as Soyuz and Progress that bring the occupants back and forth. Unfortunately for four Americans, it is still occupied.
For Mark Abbott, mission commander, Christine Rabbit (a name that has brought her no end of grief), Elvin Davis, and Hayes Rutherford, there is no longer a mission, only survival. Officially, their assignment ended eight months ago and they were to be brought home on the Russian Soyuz, after it deposited the group that was to spend the next three months in space. It never happened.
Like almost everything else, the Space Program was dead. If there still was a working rocket somewhere, how would they get it fueled, launched and piloted? Where were the computers that used to run the guidance systems? Their radios worked, but who was still at mission command to respond? Worse, there was no response from anywhere.
The four of them were fully aware they would die on the station. It was just a question of whether their oxygen would run out first or they would starve. Even if they could get home, after all this time in a weightless environment, they might never be able to function in gravity again. Their re-cycled water was holding up so far. They watched from up above as cities were overrun and destroyed. Through their link with reconnaissance satellites, they could see the streets littered with bodies, some still moving. It was like watching a bad horror movie, only this was real.
In the last days though, they had noticed a subtle change. Usually the crawlers moved in a mostly random fashion, With small groups moving about here and there, depending on whatever attracted their individual attention at the moment. Suddenly it seemed as though something was attracting them all to the same area.
On each orbit of both the station and the former spy satellite, they noticed large groups moving out of the dying and evacuated cities. Cincinnati, Columbus, Riverside and numerous others were abandoned, even by the zombies as they moved en mass in one direction. They passed through smaller towns, Beaver Creek and Fairborne,adding to their numbers as they proceeded.
If you could look at a map and see what the astronauts were seeing, the course was obvious. They were walking, shuffling, and crawling to Dayton on a bee-line to Wright Patterson.
Christine was the first to broach the subject. “You know we have to warn them, somehow.”
“Somehow being the operative word.” Commander Abbot answered.
They both looked at Elvin Davis, the nuclear physicist along on the mission to perform military experiments. “You're the genius, think of something.”
He stared at them with a terrifying look upon his face. “I have, but you are definitely not going to like it!”
Mission specialist, Hayes Rutherford, returned the stare. “As opposed to where we are right now? You mean there's something worse?”
Christine was not cowed. “We are all dead in a few days anyway. By the time those things get to Wright, there could be a million of them. What do you have in mind?”
“We can't talk to them but we have to make them notice us. Make them look at us and we can send a signal.”
“Send a signal? How would we do that?”
“You want bits and pieces, or the whole enchilada?”
“Did you have to mention food?”, Mark asked.
“Well, here's the part you're going to hate. We set explosives and blow up the Russian Orbital Segment. If we are careful, we can detach it with a smaller charge and blow it up with something that will light up the sky. It will be seen from all over North America. Then we use all our power to light everything that will make us viewable and put it all on one switch.”
“Morse,” Mark said. “You're going to send a warning in Morse Code?”
“We'll send it over and over for as long as we can!”
“You realize we've been tapping the ROS for the last oxygen aboard?”
“Does it really make a difference?”
“Let's get to work.”
Chapter16
Zombies on the Rocks
Several hours of work and bouncing ideas around the room passed before Dr. James Marco took charge again.
“So, who's going to surprise me with your shared brilliance?”
“I doubt that anyone is,” came the voice of Rita Waring, one of the Wright Pat team leaders. “It's a really tough problem. The stuff is so difficult to work with, it hinders the result we are looking for. The idea is terrific in theory and looks great in small-scale demonstrations, but under field conditions, it would seem to be almost unworkable. We figured you already knew that when you gave us the problem?”
“You are absolutely correct. We really need this to work but needing something and being able to make it happen are two very different things. Did you come up with anything you think might work?”
“Actually we did, but it won't be easy and must be done from either low altitude or on the ground.”
“Agreed, so let's hear what you all came up with.”
“First of all, any mass release must be low to ground level, because one of the more difficult properties of nitrogen is that it's lighter than air. You were correct in saying it must be disbursed in a slush, rather than a gas. Second, as you also said is the storage issue. Liquid nitrogen is normally stored and dispensed from containers known as dewers. They are too small to lend themselves to large-scale deployment, as they just don't hold enough. Also, if a load of these containers were placed on a vehicle and you attempted to shoot the stuff out using a hose and nozzle system, the tanks just wouldn't have the pressure to cover any effective distance.”
“You are telling me a whole lot about what we can't do. How about something positive?”
“The first thing we have to do is forget about containers. We also need to scrap the idea of hand-held individual nitrogen “rifles”, if you will. We need to think really big.”
“Go on.”
“In figuring out how to solve this , we needed to ask ourselves how liquid nitrogen is made, or rather collected. Then, how does it get into the dewers in the first place?”
“The nitrogen is pulled out of the air by air-separating machines that separate the nitro from the air, and put it under great pressure, running the temperature down to negative three-hundred-twenty degrees Fahrenheit. The more pressure used, the colder it becomes. There are small machines used just for filling tanks, but they just don't have the power needed. For smaller units in the field, we use cryogenic filling machines mounted on an armored vehicle, but for a mass kill, we need a couple of big boys. We found several machines that will do what we want if they are still operational and we can get them. Officially, they are simply called air separating liquid nitrogen making machines. They are big and powerful, weighing about 2000KG or 4400 pounds each. We would need to mount them in the really big heavy lift helicopters, and there aren't too many of them around. We could pump the slush right from the machine through giant, brass, fixed mount nozzles, like the ones on fire-boats. Oh, yes, one more rub. We would need a pretty strong generator with each machine, as they run on 220 volts to 380 volts for the best performance.”
Finally, Rita took a deep breath and was silent.
Dr. Marco took a long slow look over the assembled group and nodded. “ Wow! Make it happen. Tell me what you need, where it is, and I will get it here fast. Well done. I am amazed at how thorough and creative you were in just a few hours. You should all be proud of what you accomplished here today. Every instinct tells me, we have a workable idea. Lets get on it!”
Suddenly, there came a shout from the audience. Aft
er her last attempt at leadership and feeling more than a bit humiliated, she had decided for a change, to just keep quiet and listen, however, just as they were finishing an idea came to her that was just too good and easy to let pass. “Fire trucks, pumpers, they can be our mobile army. They are all over the place, can put out huge amounts of pressure, and all we have to do is replace the flat hoses and they are ready. We fill them from one of our big machines and send them anywhere quickly! They will give us everything, mobility, containment, pressure and distance. And best of all, there's thousands of them ready and waiting everywhere.”
Once again he was awed. That was perfect, and it had been there all along. Between the heavy helicopters and fire trucks, he would be able to create the “zombicles” he had been hoping for and lives would be saved.
Everyone cheered, and they were cheering for her. Maura had found her moment, AND IT WAS REAL!
Chapter 17
Now You See It
Robyn reviewed all the tests she had not yet done. No surprises there, just as in all of the other samples. As Jessie had suggested, she had begun to look for what wasn't there. And it wasn't!
The human digestive system usually has over four-hundred species of bacterium. A fair number of these are beneficial to the body. They protect the body by creating an environment that is unfavorable for the growth of bad bacteria. They also produce vitamin K, which helps break down carcinogens. The two most common and recognizable are Acidophilus and Bifidobacterium. These exist in every human, except those that have become zombies or those who had been bitten.
That was it! Dr. Rider was right. He was not culturing out the harmful strains. What he was producing in the cabinet they had left at Rocklee, was the good flora the dead did not have. She could see it. If you overdose someone with Acidophilous and Bifidobacterium, the bacteria that kills and re-animates the deceased, cannot grow and prosper in the body. It was not a cure he was seeking but a vaccine.
The patient he had kept alive for six days had already been bitten and it almost worked. If they dose someone before a bite, they just might not die. She had to get that cabinet! There were over a hundred petri dishes in there, and she was now sure that what Dr. Rider was culturing there, was a the base for a vaccine.
She Dashed out of the lab. She had to find Jessie. She already knew that he would never let her down. If at all possible, he would find a way to get her that cabinet and the samples within it.
It did not take too long to locate him. He was out on the tarmac with Dr. Marco, looking over the twenty-plus fire engines that had arrived over just the last few hours. They sat in a straight line, various colors; shiny and bright in red, caution yellow, and some weird shade of lime green. Because they had all been garaged, they had not suffered the damages other vehicles had endured over the last months.
Robyn approached the pair. “Excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt anything important, but I've got something pretty important too!”
Jessie recognized her excitement right off. “I think we'd better listen to this lady. If I'm right, she might have an idea of how to stop this infection.”
Dr. Marco was all ears. “Really? So is Mr. Porter correct? Have you discovered something amazing?”
She felt the slight bite of sarcasm, in Marco's words so she directed her thoughts to Jessie. “You were right, I found what wasn't there! I mean, it had to be there, but in every case wasn't.”
“Okay, babe, just slow down and tell us.”
Robyn took a deep breath and began to explain how she had found the good bacterium missing from every infected case, and how the missing flora help the body fight off the invasion of harmful bacteria attempting to enter the body. Finally, she touched on the fact that a patient who had been bitten lasted six days with just a small, experimental boost of these missing elements.
“Jessie, do you remember that there was a media cabinet full of cultured Petri dishes we left in the lab at Rocklee?”
“Sure, you mentioned sending in someone in, wearing a Hazmat suit.”
“That's the one, but if I'm right, Dr. Rider was culturing out Acidophilus and Bifidobacterium. There's nothing harmful in there, only the beginning of a vaccine. Jessie, Dr. Marco, we have to get that cabinet!”
“That's great babe, but how are we going to do that? We have no communication with Langley. If I could reach one of my team at CAG-1, they could get it out of there for us but I don't see how.”
Dr. Marco cut Jessie off with a question. “Mr. Porter, just how long have you been a vampire?”
“Only about three months. Why?”
“One of the new abilities you obviously haven't attempted to use yet is limited psychic communication. The bond is especially strong with one's maker. In your case, I'd wager your maker is a senior team member.”
“Yes, absolutely, one of our team leaders.”
“Talk to him. Not with words, but concentrate on calling him in your mind. See what happens.”
Jessie had never believed in all this psychic babble or teleportation, or any of what he had considered science fiction. But for that matter, he never believed vampires really existed either.
Consequently, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his friend, mentor and maker. “Bob, Bob, Bob Eller, this is Jessie. I really need you. Can you hear me?”
He was so skeptical, that he barely heard the low response enter his thoughts. “Jessie, is that really you?”
It was not easy to believe that he found himself communicating telepathically with anyone. It felt like his mind was making up an answer because he wanted so badly to receive one!
“Bob, am I really talking to you? I hope so because I really need some help here.”
“What do you need little brother?'
“Robyn thinks she's discovered how Dr. Rider intended to develop a vaccine. The problem is the good bacteria he was culturing is back in the lab at Rocklee.”
“I thought we pulled everything out of there.”
“All the research, but we left behind a culture cabinet full of growing colonies. I need to get it here, and fast!”
“I don't know how I can help. I'm pretty alone here. The team is down in Lexington with no less than six other teams.”
“Sounds like something huge is going on down there.”
“Remember the big time military college that could defend itself?”
“You mean VMI? The one that was the West Point of the South and insisted they didn't need any help?”
“That's the one. Turns out their fifteen-hundred, or so students, and one hundred-fifty faculty were about to be overrun by almost a hundred-thousand zombies. Their M-14 and M-16 rifles, along with a couple of ancient Howitzers, just were not the right tools for the job. Truth is, we just can't afford to let so many bright young men go down the tubes. If we're going to have a future we need guys like this to rebuild.”
“So, why aren't you with them?”
“Based upon my success with you, they wanted me to mentor another new recruit. It was just too soon to take him out into the field.”
“Bob, I know it's a lot to ask, but do you think you two could get us that cabinet?”
“I don't see how, the team took the Apache and the other choppers. We'd need to drop in, get the cabinet, load it, and fly it to you. I just don't have the resources.”
“The building is most probably still clear. Should be an easy in and out.”
“Where do I get the wings though? Everything we've got is out. Unless.....?”
“Unless what?”
“A couple of weeks ago a CCFN News chopper flew in. With no broadcasts, the folks here kinda appropriated it off the roof of a building. It's an older Bell Jet Ranger that could do the job if it is still in one piece.”
“Could you check it out, please?This is super important! Can you get someone to fly it?”
“Jessie, Jessie, Jessie, do you think I've lived over one hundred-fifty years without ever having learned to fly? And I don't mean like a bat. I'll ge
t back to you.”
Robyn and Dr. Marco had watched Jessie just staring blankly off into the distance. They had no idea as to whether or not he made contact, until he sort of sagged and grabbed the mirror of the nearest fire engine to hold himself up.
“He'll get back to us soon.” He also told them of what was happening to the south.
“Now, young lady, I'm going to get Dr. Baldwin to round you up a biological team. It seems to me that you have been going it alone on this, and If I may say so, doing damn well! Now let's see what you can do with some overqualified, but shortsighted help. Remember YOU are in charge. I don't care what position someone held before, this is your project. If anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with me.”
“No sir, this is Dr. Rider's project. I'm just here to finish it for him.”
“Mr. Porter, I can see why you're attracted to this lady. She's a keeper.”
Jessie beamed. “Yes sir she is.”
With his arm around Robyn's shoulder, Dr. James Marco led her back to the lower levels and her lab.
A few moments later Jessie was starting another fire engine when he felt a pounding, wump wump in his head. For a moment, he thought he might be having some sort of seizure. Then, to his relief, he heard Bob's voice fill his mind again.
“Sorry if I scared you. I thought I'd let you know, I'm just breezing around up here on the way to Rocklee and thought you'd like a channel thirty-three traffic report.”
“You got it going?”
“The bird runs like new. If you don't care about all the promotional crap on the fuselage, its a really nice unit. If all goes well, Bradley and I should be on the tarmac at Wright Patterson within about six hours.”
“I don't know how to thank you.”
“You thank me every day by just being who you are. I'm so proud of you “little brother”. You have no idea. I was against this program of turning humans. In fact I swore I'd never do it. I was coaxed to mentor you, and it's you who have proven the value of the whole concept. Bradley is my second. I hope he has your success.”
