Influenza: Viral Virulence

by Ohliger, Steven

  His secretary, Midge, glanced up and pointed to her phone. “He’s on line one.”

  “Thanks, Midge,” he responded as he strode quickly to his inner office and closed the door behind him. He barely noticed the morning sun beaming from his large window. Outside, Malaysia was just waking up to another busy day in downtown Johor Bahru. At first, he had regretted being transferred here from the States. But over time, he had come to enjoy working as head of the research department.

  Dr. Freeman glanced at the large clock on the wall. It was 9:00 a.m. in Malaysia. As he circled his large desk, with papers and graphs scattered all over the top, he quickly calculated that it was 7:00 p.m. in California. At least the company was taking him seriously. Sitting down in his chair, he picked up the phone and punched the line.

  “This is Dr. Freeman,” he said sternly into the phone.

  “Curtis…”

  Dr. Freeman grimaced but said nothing. It always irritated him when people didn’t use his proper title. He had earned his doctorate, and he deserved to be treated with the respect due him. He didn’t care that the person on the other end of the phone was the CEO of Innocu-Tech, Steven Colburn. He still deserved—no, demanded—to be treated as a professional.

  “Mr. Colburn,” Dr. Freeman said abruptly. “Did you receive my reports?”

  “Yes, I have them here in front of me. We need to discuss this.”

  “What is there to discuss? The results are clear. Your new flu vaccine doesn’t work. In fact, compared to the test group, your vaccine exhibits significantly increased rates of morbidity and mortality over the control group.”

  “Now, don’t get overly excited about the results. We need to take your data and verify it in our domestic labs and…”

  “There is no time! I just lost my last test subject this morning!” Dr. Freeman shouted into the phone. “This vaccine is dangerous! Somehow, the vaccine is shutting down people’s immune systems. It’s almost like someone has genetically weaponized it. This is a danger to anyone getting it! You need to pull it off the market. Now!”

  “What do you mean when you say the vaccine has been ‘weaponized’?”

  “I think that someone has genetically altered the vaccine structure. Has Innocu-Tech purposely created a bad vaccine? Maybe I should call the FBI!”

  On the other end of the phone, Steven was also starting to raise his voice in anger. “Dr. Freeman! How dare you accuse this company of placing people’s lives in jeopardy! First you throw wild accusations at me, and now you want to stop production? We’ve already shipped hundreds of thousands of vaccines and have three times that much waiting in our distribution centers ready to go out. Dr. Freeman, do you have any idea of how many billions of dollars in inventory that is? Do you have any clue as to how much additional money it’s going to cost the company to recall all of the vaccine?”

  “I don’t care,” Dr. Freeman responded vehemently. “The vaccine is a danger to the public. If you don’t do anything, my next call will be to the CDC in Atlanta, and then the FBI.”

  There was a pause on the line. Finally, Steven conceded and lowered his voice. “You are right, of course, Dr. Freeman. I was only thinking about how I am going to break the news to the stockholders and the board. We’ll have to issue the priority level-one recall on the vaccine, and hopefully, we’ll be able to reformulate it in time.”

  Sensing victory, Dr. Freeman relaxed. He was glad Innocu-Tech was seeing things clearly now.

  “Do you still have all of the data?” the CEO asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you shared your findings with anybody?”

  “No, not yet,” Dr. Freeman admitted. He looked at all the papers scattered haphazardly across his desk.

  “I can’t stress how important it is that we keep this matter quiet for the moment. We need to get together with the CDC and the government to see how we can release these results without causing public panic. We’ll probably have to coordinate with Homeland Security, and maybe even FEMA, to prevent mayhem from erupting on the streets. Do you understand the need to keep this under wraps for the time being, Dr. Freeman?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Good. I am going to send a courier over to collect your data. I need you to gather everything you have and give it to him. The US government will want to see it all. I cannot stress how vital it is that you keep this information to yourself and not release it to anyone but the person that I send over.”

  “I can send it to you digitally,” Dr. Freeman offered.

  “No, I’m not too confident in the security of our intranet at the moment. I was notified just yesterday that IT has found traces of evidence that some unknown hacker has tried to gain access to our system. It is of the utmost importance that you give the courier, and only our courier, the information. Can I count on you, Doctor?”

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  “Good. I knew that you were one of our brighter professionals. You’ll go far in this company.” Steven said goodbye.

  Dr. Freeman gently placed the phone back on his desk and smiled to himself. Finally, his brilliance and hard work were going to pay off. Maybe he’d even get promoted to head the Research and Development branch of Innocu-Tech.

  Victoria Downing reluctantly squeezed herself into the economy seat in the back of the airplane. She was meticulously dressed, and her round hat matched her blouse perfectly. With an angular face, thin lips, and a pointy nose, she had an air of superiority. Victoria had eyes that could shoot flames of fire and a tongue that could cut people into a thousand pieces if they didn’t meet her expectations…which happened often.

  Accustomed to flying first class, she had been forced to sit with the common people when she had to make the return flight from the Philippines to Los Angeles on such short notice. She had tried to offer the ticketing agent a generous tip to get her into first class, but the lady obviously didn’t recognize her stature and refused to bump someone less deserving out of first class. As soon as Victoria arrived home, she would make a few calls and make sure the ticketing agent lost her job. The only comfort she had at the moment was that she did reserve a first-class seat on her connecting flight in Tokyo—if she could just endure the riffraff until then.

  So, here she was, stuck between two commoners on an overcrowded flight. It was obvious they hadn’t showered recently. The man seated on her left had an unpleasant odor. Reaching up and turning the overhead air jet toward her, Victoria crinkled her nose and again hoped she could survive until her later flight. How many hours is this flight? she thought for the tenth time.

  The woman sitting behind her started coughing and sniffling. Victoria turned around and gave the woman a stern look before facing forward again. These seats are so uncomfortable, she thought, trying to recline the seat back a little. How she suddenly envied the people who were sitting in the luxury seats up toward the front of the airplane.

  As the plane filled up, she watched the working class file in and put their worthless belongings in the overhead compartments before taking their seats. Some of the passengers were actually wearing shorts and sweatshirts! She sank a little lower in her seat in disgust.

  The woman sitting behind her suddenly sneezed loudly.

  Don’t people have any manners? Victoria thought as she prepared for a less-than-perfect flight surrounded by swine.

  The virus was so small that it could only be seen under the lenses of an electron microscope. Made up of just a few DNA strands, the virus was neither alive nor dead, neither good nor evil. Unable to reproduce on its own, it could not live or propagate without hijacking another cell. Suspended in midair, surrounded by a micronized sphere of fluid, like a balloon, the virus traveled across the plane, propelled by the force of a sneeze. The small, circular particle of fluid was lighter than air, and it could travel a large distance before the fluid either evaporated or collided with another object.

  Unseen by the naked human eye, this particular virus-filled bubble floated through th
e air and then slowly descended. As Veronica inhaled, the small sphere was drawn up into her nasal passage. Completely unaware of the danger, Victoria continued to breathe. The bubble of fluid collided with the mucosal membrane lining her nasal passage. As the fluid burst, multiple viruses were released.

  Traveling in the cellular fluid, one particular virus attached itself to the nearest cell by receptors that its genetic code recognized. Firmly locked on to the cell membrane, the virus injected its genetic material into the cell. The code inserted itself into the cell’s own programming, and then, like a hacker in a computer, it reprogrammed the cell. Instead of building life-sustaining proteins, the cell now began to rapidly produce more copies of the virus until it ran out of resources and room. Reaching capacity, the cell burst, releasing hundreds of thousands of new viruses, which proceeded to attach themselves to other uninfected cells.

  The body’s normal immune-response cells were confused. They had been “trained” by a recent vaccine to recognize and react to certain infections, but this was not one of them. The body’s natural defense response was hindered. Unable to identify the virus as a malignant invader, the body did not fight it but rather took a backseat as the virus infected cell after cell, producing millions of viruses that started circulating around the body.

  Then, a small strand of additional genetic information broke off from the vaccine itself. As it also was only visible under the lens of an electron microscope, hardly anyone knew that this tiny bit of DNA existed. The strand of information attached itself to the immune cells and turned the cells, like a light switch, to the off position. Without a functioning immune system, the influenza virus, along with any other pathogens, ran rampant.

  Chapter 4

  The bar was a typical college destination, not designed for sitting and eating but for the mass consumption of alcohol, particularly the cheap beer that came in plastic cups. This beer was well within the budget of most college students. The establishment, with its drab wood paneling on the walls, housed a couple of pool tables in the back room. During weekend nights, the entire place was so jammed with college students that it was difficult to get from here to there without pushing through a multitude of people. You had to plan a trip to the bathroom long in advance of needing to actually go. Tonight it was packed tighter than Michael could ever remember.

  Celebrating Brian’s birthday, they all took turns running to the bar to refill their pitcher. Some of their other friends had met them there, as well as some of their fraternity brothers. During Michael’s second year at school, he, Brian, Scott, and some friends they had made during their freshman year had decided to join a specialized pharmacy professional/social fraternity. It had several benefits. First, the fraternity was recognized across the country as an academic achievement. Second, they had the opportunity to review files of previous students’ tests and study notes, which were often repeated by the professors. And third, they got to have fraternity parties.

  At one point in the evening while they were celebrating, Michael’s eyes caught a flash of golden blond hair on the other side of the bar. Squinting to get a better look, he recognized Lorie. He caught her eye, they waved to each other, and Michael turned back to whatever Scott and Brian were talking about, which, after consuming this much alcohol, could be anything.

  After some time passed, he looked down at his plastic cup filled with golden brown liquid and knew that this was it. This was the last glass of beer. The nerves in his body, however deadened by the alcohol, were screaming to his brain, “Enough!” Even in his stuporous state, he knew that if he had any more, he would regret it. Sometimes the body just knows when to call it quits. His vision was a little fuzzy, and he was becoming unsteady on his feet.

  “Hey, you!” a loud voice shouted in his face.

  Looking up from his plastic glass of beer, Michael tried to focus his eyes on the huge, leering face in front of him. It wasn’t a face he recognized, so, Michael concluded that he must not be talking to him.

  “Hey, you!” the hostile face yelled again. “I’m talking to you, or don’t you speak English?”

  Michael stared back into that face and still didn’t recognize it. Who was he? This guy was big. He had short, curly hair sitting above a pimple-covered face, which was flushed red from either anger or too much alcohol. Michael didn’t know which, and in his present state of mind, he really didn’t care.

  “What?” Michael asked innocently.

  “I saw you hitting on my girlfriend, Weasel!”

  “I wasn’t hitting on your girlfriend. I don’t even know who your girlfriend is, and I sure as hell don’t know who you are. And my name isn’t Weasel,” Michael protested. He noticed that this guy’s arms were about as big around as his own thighs. He also saw that the hulk’s fingers were tightened into fists. Not a good sign. Maybe he was in trouble.

  He caught a whiff of the guy’s body odor. He presumed that the red face was due not to alcohol flush but to rage. Funny, his pimples were an even brighter red than his face, and they looked like polka dots. Michael bit his tongue to keep from laughing. If he smiled, he was sure to get a fist in the face. Well, he figured, he probably wouldn’t feel it with all the beer he had consumed.

  Unbeknownst to Michael, Brian had celebrated his birthday a little over his limit and was currently puking in the restroom sink. Scott and a few of his other fraternity brothers were completely oblivious to the developing situation.

  “I saw you staring at her all night. So, were you hitting on her? Or are you gay?” the unknown stranger ridiculed him. He raised his voice so all his friends could hear. “Is that it? Are you a gay weasel?”

  “I’m not gay, and I wasn’t hitting on your girlfriend. I still don’t even know who you are!” Michael replied slowly, trying to choose his words carefully.

  “Well, if you weren’t making a play for my girl, then you must be gay!” the big guy said, moving even closer to Michael, trying to intimidate him. The crowd suddenly grew quiet around them. Thankfully, the crazy guy’s friends were trying to talk him down and pull him back. But he easily shook his friends off and persisted, trying to torment Michael. “Weasel, just admit that you’re gay!” He lifted his massive hand and stuck a finger into Michael’s face.

  “I’m not gay,” Michael repeated once again. Maybe he needed to record a sound bite and give it to him.

  Scott suddenly appeared from out of nowhere and tried to intervene. He said something to the red-faced hulk in a vain attempt to make peace. Michael couldn’t make out what he was saying to him, but it didn’t work, because after only a few seconds, the big guy swatted Scott away easily with one hand. Scott went stumbling across the floor. That drew even more unwanted attention.

  “Another weasel bites the dust,” the guy said, watching Scott stumble. Then he turned his attention back to Michael. “Just admit that you’re gay, Weasel! And then I won’t beat the snot out of you.”

  Michael knew that this guy could easily squish him like a bug. He was probably 250 pounds of pure muscle and must have spent almost every free minute in the gym. He was trying to force Michael into humiliating himself in front of his friends. Michael recognized a bully when he saw one.

  In a flash, he was suddenly propelled back into high school where he was intimidated by a bully. Being one of the smaller kids in high school, he had more than his fair share of being picked on by jerks just like this one. Those hateful faces appeared before him. He remembered all those days that he tried to make himself invisible, so they wouldn’t see him and make him a target.

  Suddenly a red-hot anger started to burn and rise within him. He wouldn’t put up with this kind of treatment any longer, even if he got hurt. Sticks and stones might break bones, but names will surely hurt you. Bones would heal. Emotional damage took a lot longer.

  All those thugs in high school who had harassed him and made his life miserable coalesced into the raging lunatic who was standing just inches from his face, ready to deck him. But Michael was smarter than
this dumb football jock.

  He looked over the behemoth’s shoulder and saw that the owner of the bar had noticed them and was making his way through the crowd to their location. He remembered that his name was Wayne, and it looked like he was carrying a wooden baseball bat. Wayne was a big guy who could easily smash a few heads with or without a bat. He didn’t put up with any garbage going on in his bar. Michael also saw that some of his own friends had gathered around him.

  Lorie’s worried face suddenly appeared beside the bully. She looked at Michael and then at the big guy and asked, “What’s going on here, Ted?”

  Finally, Michael made the connection. Lorie’s date, Theodore, was in fact Ted, who ended up being the nut job standing in front of him with a face that looked like it was going to explode at any minute.

  Michael took his eyes off Lorie and looked back at Ted’s seething face, which was now within inches of his own. It was incredible how red someone could get. He looked rabid. In a few more seconds, he thought foam would start to drip out of the guy’s mouth.

  Michael’s instincts told him that Ted would only accept one of two answers from him. The first, if he admitted he was flirting with Lorie, would be far from the truth. They had only waved at each other from across the bar, and that was it. The other answer he wanted to hear from Michael was also completely untrue, and he would be admitting to something that he was not. The first answer would probably end up with Michael being pummeled by Ted, but it would also degrade Lorie. Saying that he and Lorie were flirting while she was on a date would make her look like a tramp. He could take the beating, but he didn’t want Lorie dragged into this. Her reputation was more important to him than a few broken bones. The latter answer, saying that he was gay, would save both of them. But Michael wouldn’t only lose the respect of the people around him; he would also lose his own self-respect. It seemed to be a lose-lose situation. Unless…