The White Death

by Rafferty, Daniel

  “How did you know…?” he asked, about to offer her tea.

  “Futuristic scientific laboratory,” she replied, removing her coat. “Why wouldn’t you have a voice-activated computer?”

  “Fair point.”

  “Hello,” said CIM.

  “CIM,” said Peter. “Grant Professor Barrington full access to the computer system.”

  “Granted,” said CIM. “Welcome, Professor Barrington.”

  “Thank you, CIM. Interface with my laptop and display file 759C.”

  “Loading,” said CIM.

  “You’re just like a colleague of mine,” remarked Peter, standing beside her. “Treating the computer as if it’s alive.”

  “Manners cost nothing,” said Ursula, fixing a lose strand of hair behind her ear.

  “How long does it take the virus to render the SRGAP2 genes defunct?” said Peter. “If they’re only disabled, then we might be able to reactivate it again.”

  “This is the moment,” said Ursula. “Watch carefully.”

  CIM displayed in stunning colorful detail the moment the virus swarmed a sample of brain tissue, destroying almost everything in its path. For Peter and Ursula, it was unbelievable—they had no idea how this was even possible.

  “Destroyed, along with almost everything else,” she said once the simulation was over. “We have no way of repairing that kind of damage.”

  “Replace it maybe?” asked Peter.

  Ursula laughed.

  “Peter, you’ve been underground for far too long. We don’t have that kind of technology, nothing we’re even theorizing about.”

  “But if we did,” he insisted.

  “Even if we did, it would require a level of personalization for each individual that would make the task impossible. Peter, for the first time in the history of our planet, the needs of the few must trump the needs of the many. When we get this under control, infection will have passed the fifty percent mark,” said Ursula. “As long as there is one infected human or animal on this planet, then we are at risk. They must all be destroyed, and the remaining population vaccinated.”

  “Like animals,” said Peter.

  “But that’s exactly what they are now, Peter. Animals. Prehistoric animals with a gene pool so primal, so basic. Our only hope is to put them out of their misery. If I turned into one of those things, I’d want to be put down.”

  “Said by someone in the safety of a lab,” he retorted, sitting back behind his desk.

  “Don’t you dare accuse me of such cowardice,” said Ursula. “It was me out among the sick and the dying the last thirty years. I traveled across Asia and the Middle East, cataloguing every virus strain thought to be a possible threat to humanity. I didn’t hide in an underground bunker.”

  “I don’t know why we’re having this argument. The Council agrees with you about exterminating the infected,” said Peter.

  “I’m worried about further infection first and foremost. We can debate total extermination later on. Right now, we need to at least hold back the tide.”

  “You mean bomb the furthest reaches of the virus?” said Peter. Despite his opposition, there was no denying it made a good argument. Ursula always did bring simple common sense to the table.

  “For now,” said Ursula. “How long until this Council begins their own extermination?”

  “Same time as vaccine release.” Each time he received a message from the Bernay, it was to inform them that they had encountered another unforeseen problem and were working as quickly as possible. “They are fine-tuning a toxic nerve agent to make sure it eradicates the virus entirely and does not harm the planet,” said Peter. He knew each second that passed, more innocent people were becoming infected. Millions across Europe would now be in a state of panic, fighting for their very existence. He would have to support her short-term immediate plan.

  “We can’t wait that long. We need to act now. Every second that passes kills more people.”

  “We have a meeting with the president at seven tomorrow morning,” said Peter, checking his email. “If you’re really wanting to suggest bombing runs of European cities and land, we don’t have much time to fine-tune it.”

  “We can’t save them, Peter,” said Ursula. “I know you don’t want to hear that, but face facts.”

  Peter undid his tie, propping his head up. “Okay, what do you propose?” he said.

  Ursula stood up and began talking him through the information on her laptop presentation.

  “My studies show that once the infected die, the virus dies with them. So to speak, of course. We know a virus isn’t really alive to begin with, but if you remove the host, then the virus ceases to function.”

  “I’m surprised by this. Considering the rather complex structure of the virus, I always suspected it to have a backup mechanism,” said Peter.

  “I expected a backup as well, but we’re due one bit of fortune,” said Ursula.

  “What do we have in our own arsenals, in enough quantity, for that kind of killing?” said Peter.

  “Sarin,” said Ursula. “The United States and Britain kept large stockpiles after the Third World War. We can modify it.”

  “And America has facilities up and down the country that could manufacture more as quickly as we needed it.” Section 51 had a few chambers that could create sarin as well.

  “So at least we have the production capacity there,” said Ursula. “I presume your transporter technology can be used for the sarin as well?”

  “Yes,” said Peter. They could transport stockpiles to Britain in a flash, ready to be loaded onto planes. “You’re totally certain about the sarin?”

  “100%. We tested it on the virus, and there weren’t even trace amounts. It’s safe. The more infected we kill now, the better chance we give to those still free,” she said.

  “I just wish we could do more to save them.”

  “We can’t wait on the Bernay. It’s up to humans to sort out this mess. We can act now and save a few million.”

  She marched up and down his clinically white office, not missing the tiniest details on all his displays.

  “So sarin-43 dispersal on the outer reaches of the virus outbreak, to drive it back?” he said.

  “We’ll hit the infected along the edges, hopefully reducing the transmission rate.”

  “What about a carrier?” said Peter, the idea just coming to him.

  “A what?” she asked.

  “A carrier,” said Peter.

  Ursula laughed. “Have you heard of one?”

  He shook his head.

  “If I got a carrier, then we’d have a far better shot at developing our own vaccine. Being able to study the virus in full action, seeing how the human was actively fighting it off … well, it would be worth any risk. That being said, I doubt one exists.”

  “Why?” said Peter.

  “This virus is so deadly,” said Ursula. “It’s vicious, and it’s a destroyer. We can only defeat it by killing every infected host. We must fight fire with fire. It has the ability to adapt. You said even the Council was having trouble developing a vaccine?”

  “They are, but between us, it’s turned political, which is never good.”

  “Politics,” cursed Ursula. “In every society, it still exists.”

  “We’ll need to prepare a plan of action for the president,” said Peter. “I’ll buzz Freda down here.”

  “I do have one other suggestion, and it does involve saving people. It would complement the bombing…”

  “I’m all ears,” he said, not yet dialing the number.

  “It’s bold, and we’ll have to be, too.”

  Chapter 35

  Thomas could feel himself dozing off, and it felt wonderful to have an hour or two
of sleep. After an argument that bordered on insubordination with Gail, he had agreed to retire to his bedroom. It was quiet and warm, insulated against the business of the White House. He had a situation meeting with Section 51 at seven a.m. Getting to bed at four was pushing his ability to go without much sleep to the limit.

  “The world will not benefit from a tired president high on caffeine,” she shouted earlier. He knew there wasn’t much to be done at the minute, and there was a good team to manage things. Sleeping had never been a strong point of his character. He found it a waste of time. Now, though, tiredness was winning the fight.

  The door flung open, Gail appearing.

  He groggily sat up.

  “Mr. President, sir.”

  “What’s happened?” he said, his senses returning in a flash.

  She thrust an e-pad into his hand, and he blinked several times, standing up.

  “Chicago National?”

  “Everything was uploaded—the article, pictures, videos of advanced equipment that Dr. Roberts must have been carrying. Everything.”

  “Gail, I gave clear instructions I did not want this to happen,” said Thomas, seething.

  She closed the bedroom door, not wanting even the Secret Service personnel to hear.

  “And those orders were being carried out by the FBI,” said Gail. “Their Chicago branch acted immediately, but when they got to the Chicago National, Donna Parker had left. The files were uploaded from a mobile laptop.”

  “Well, take the website down,” he shouted, firing the pad on the super-sized bed.

  “That won’t do anything now, except make the government look worse,” said Gail. “Parker uploaded it to God knows how many other news networks. Our telephone switchboard is jammed, and world leaders are queuing up to speak to you.”

  Thomas said nothing, taking his glasses off to clean them. He lifted the e-pad and read it more clearly. Even his tired eyes couldn’t lie to him now. Each headline felt like a death sentence.

  EUGENICS VIRUS CREATED BY ALIENS

  PRO-EVOLUTION LOBBY VINDICATED

  U.S. GOVERNMENT COVER UP

  ALIENS TO STERILIZE EVERY HUMAN NOT GENETICALLY PERFECT—99% OF THE POPULATION

  INFECTED CANNOT BE SAVED

  “Give me a moment,” said Thomas, hurrying into his bathroom. The grumbling in his stomach was not innocent, and he just made it to the bowl before vomiting. How could he hope to maintain any sense of order in the country now? Even the army would be up in arms. Using mouthwash, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, and what stared back frightened him. He took the plunge and headed back out to Gail and the presidency.

  “What’s the response so far?”

  “Not good,” she said.

  He could see the updates coming through hot and heavy to her as they spoke.

  “Reports of intense rioting in New York and a dozen more cities. It’s spreading like wildfire.”

  “I read earlier that Donna Parker had said in an interview she wanted to be remembered,” said Thomas. “She will be now.”

  “Sir, I’ve told staff to refuse all calls until we come up with some kind of response to this,” said Gail. “Our primary focus must still be containment of the virus and rescuing who we can.”

  “I agree,” said Thomas. “We mustn’t lose sight of that.”

  Gail turned on the television, and video of Roberts speaking was being shown live.

  “Fucking hell,” cursed Thomas, watching the exchange. “Like … really?”

  “Freedom of the press,” said Gail.

  “It’s acting against your country,” snapped Thomas. “This article will cost lives—thousands. I want Parker’s head on a platter, next to the editor’s!”

  “Well, we can’t do anything to either of them now,” said Gail.

  “Damn it.” He pulled off the tie he’d been trying to knot.

  “We need to put this behind us,” said Gail.

  “And move forward,” said Thomas. He was silently furious. How could anyone print this, knowing the damage it would cause to the country? Watching Gail walk to the window, he knew what was coming next. “This changes everything.”

  “So what do we do now?” she asked.

  Thomas walked to his wardrobe, about to remove a new set of cufflinks, when he turned to look at her.

  “We tell the truth,” he said.

  “Really?” said Gail

  “Yes. We tell Congress and the people, in a joint televised address. We can’t stop this war, Gail, but we can choose our battles. I’d rather attack first.”

  “I’ll set it up—noon today?” said Gail. “That’ll give us a few hours to prepare.”

  “Agreed,” said Thomas. He turned back to the mirror, fixing his diamond cufflinks. “What time are we on?”

  “6:50 A.M.”

  “Let’s hope Section 51 can pull a rabbit out of the hat.”

  “The cabinet is already assembled in the situation room for the meeting. We need to keep them involved from now on.”

  “Quite right,” said Thomas. He gave himself a quick look in the mirror. It was important to appear neat and in control. A disheveled, untidy president would project the wrong kind of image. They marched out of his bedroom toward the crisis center, Secret Service agents following him—never far and always watching. The corridors were packed with staff, coordinating with departments to keep everything together. A few minutes later, after a quick call with his official spokesperson, he entered the crisis center.

  “Be seated,” he ordered. The room was packed and, even with the air conditioning, was warm and stuffy. With over two dozen people packed in, representing all critical areas of government, he knew conversation would be rife. Everyone would have read each word of the news article and examined every picture and video. As he took his seat at the head of the conference table, the lights dimmed, and monitors turned on.

  “Mr. President,” began Richards, “I have taken the liberty of briefing those assembled in regards to the news article printed this hour. They are up to speed in the key areas.”

  “Thank you, General.” He didn’t want to waste valuable time stoking people’s questions of the article. They could spend years discussing and debating it. Television screens, showing violence across the country and Europe, couldn’t be missed. Decisive action would need to be taken now.

  “First, reports,” said Thomas. “Secretary of State.”

  “The Russian government is furious,” said Vanessa Kramer. Thomas was surprised how old and tired she looked. “If they were not dealing with the Eugenics Virus in their border cities, war would be very likely.”

  “Nuclear weapons?” said Thomas.

  “My fear,” said Kramer, “is this. If the Russian government breaks down, as governments tend to do under this amount of pressure, then some trigger-happy idiot with an axe to grind with the United States may very well launch a nuclear strike against one of our cities.”

  The room went quiet, all eyes turning to Thomas.

  “What’s the current status of Russian nuclear weapons?” he asked.

  “Most are obsolete,” said the Defense Secretary. Jacqui continued, “But they do retain international strike capability. The Pentagon is more concerned about a new scorched earth policy being created by the Kremlin.”

  “The State Department is in agreement,” said Kramer. “As infection creeps closer to Moscow, they may get cold feet and begin nuking their own cities.”

  “Try and obliterate the virus,” said Thomas.

  “And cause irreversible damage to the environment and atmosphere,” said Kramer.

  “Nuking their own cities?” said Arthur Bell, Treasury Secretary. “Surely not.”

  Thomas looked at the Treasury Secretary. Normally he wouldn’t
be at this kind of military meeting, but with the nation’s economy on its knees and global trade at zero, he had to be involved.

  “An infected city is a lost city and a danger to every other city not infected,” said Richards. “Russian thinking will be to protect their remaining cities at all costs.”

  “Vanessa, do whatever we can to calm Russian nerves. We don’t want them to attack us. India?” said Thomas. They had no protection against a nuclear strike from Russia, and he hoped the Russian government would have too much to worry about now.

  “Official communication with the Indian government ceased thirty-five minutes ago,” said Kramer, checking her watch. “They have gone completely silent. The virus swept through New Delhi around the same time. We’re tracking an Indian aircraft carrier group off the Horn of Africa, but they seem to be stationary.”

  “Talk to the British,” said Thomas. “If they allow it, send the Indian carrier group a message to head for British waters.”

  “Mr. President, is that wise?” asked Jacqui Kilmoran.

  Thomas gritted his teeth. His Defense Secretary was more than capable, but he was tiring of the constant questioning. “I’d rather not have a rogue carrier fleet loose on the seas,” said Thomas.

  “They’ll most likely go along with it,” said Kramer, “but I doubt they’ll let them dock.”

  “Fine, fine,” waved Thomas. “But get them into British waters, extend the hand of friendship. Britain and Europe?”

  “The more westward this virus goes, the quicker it spreads,” explained Kramer. “Europe is technologically advanced and still moderately wealthy compared to Asia and the Middle East. People have a lot more access to cars, planes, boats. It’s spreading the virus quicker than we’ve seen in China and Russia. Infection has been confirmed in Spain, Germany, Belgium, Denmark, Poland, and all eastern states. It will reach France soon, and then that’s Europe gone.”

  The room was silent as Kramer read the death warrant for over 540 million people.

  “Border controls?” asked Richards.