by Franks, JK
She pointed to a seat. “Hey, sorry about your injury. Scott tells me you have some timeframes in mind for the disease to spread. I would like to know more about that, perhaps see if I should adjust my own projections.”
Tahir nodded and in a very businesslike manner proceeded to go through all of the data he had collected. His recall was perfect, relying on nothing other than his brilliant mind. She seemed troubled by something as she took notes. “If you are correct, then the speed of the pathogen has varied significantly since the outbreak began. I have been using a standard model with a normal escalation based on available population. I projected at least a year before we would see it here.”
“Um, yes, no, that would not be accurate anymore. I am assuming something has happened to alter both the disease vectors and some other aspects of the contagion…maybe carriers. Whatever happened, it has sped up considerably.”
“You’re quite sure about this.”
He nodded, “Yes, very.”
Gia sat her pencil down and flipped back through some older notes. “Overseas, near the origin point where Skybox was, the soldiers were calling it a zombie plague. By the time it reached Europe, the infected were altered. While still hyper-aggressive, they were no longer brainless. They seemed to recognize the need to eat and had more of a sense of self-preservation. All of which made them even more dangerous.”
Tahir nodded, “So, more of them survived. More of them to spread the infection.”
“That is one possibility, yes. From the rather limited samples that DJ and I have access to, we can see that the actual virus has changed. We can track its morphology almost from inception. We assume it is evolving in response to its environment. Adapting to changing conditions.”
“Doctor, I have only basic knowledge in this area, but I have heard mention more than once that this has to be a human-engineered genome. Do you agree with that assumption?”
She looked him in the eye and slowly nodded. “It seems to be a near certainty in my opinion. The genetic makeup is too complex to be natural. It seems to be made up of snippets of genetic code from a variety of other disease variants. This manufactured viral agent was spliced into something truly ancient, something known as Archaea. We don’t even know enough about this form of life to properly classify it. Much like viruses, we aren’t sure if they actually are a life form or just a very crafty chemical process. This had to be engineered, Tahir. In fact, I think this was an interim step, not a final product. Most likely, a bio-weapon was the end goal, and this was just a hodgepodge of genetic material someone put together just to see what would happen. There is a small chance it could have evolved this way on its own. Some of the material resembles material recovered from the corpses of mass die-offs in humans, but it is way beyond that now.”
“Have you learned anything helpful?”
“Yes…but helpful would be a relative term. Some of it is more curiosity than cure. Such as how the infected are attracted to certain stimuli like ultra-low frequency sounds and emit a very distinct pheromone when threatened. Some of this most likely are just vestigial responses. Biological relics from ancient parts of human DNA.
“Other findings have been more challenging. While we now have a workable cure for what would have been the first iteration of the disease, it’s been totally ineffective against each of the current strains.”
Tahir could see her hands were shaking slightly as she made more notes. “Doctor…Gia, will you be able to develop a treatment in time?”
“No…maybe, I don’t know. In six months, I really doubt it. Please don’t tell this to anyone else, Tahir. We gave up months ago trying to fight this from a traditional standpoint. While we are issuing boosters and antivirals to everyone, all of our efforts turned from understanding the Chimera to understanding what, or more accurately, who was immune to it.”
“Like Skybox?”
“Yes, he was our first, but we have learned of a few others that are in other labs. While not technically immune, something in their genetic makeup allows them to keep the more damaging aspects of the disease in stasis while allowing certain rather positive changes from the virus to occur. We first thought this was in the blood chemistry. Some mix of other disease exposures and various immunizations a person may have acquired. In Skybox’s case, that was a lot to run down. With him, what we concluded is it was actually his genetic makeup that was at play. His DNA has the genes turned on, not just to resist damage from the virus, but to make use of it. When the virus invaded his body, unlike other victims, his immune system attacked the virus, and it retained some of the virus’s genetic code, so it could recognize it again. His body caused the virus to adapt to him instead of the other way around.”
Tahir was very intrigued at this. “So, developing a serum based on his blood is not viable. Correct?”
Gia nodded, and he continued, “You are talking about an epigenetic treatment protocol if you can identify exactly which genes are switched on?”
She marveled at the young man’s grasp of this complex knowledge well outside his main areas of expertise. “Yes, and gene therapy is a very challenging business even when we had all the cool tech toys. DNA structures are very complex, and we only have a superficial understanding at this point. We can manipulate genes, but often, with very unpredictable results.” She recalled Scott’s earlier conversation on Tahir’s ideas. “It is very much like your computer code, except the code is individual to every computer. We turn one line off on this machine, it may do great, get faster, work forever. Do the same thing on another, and you may kill it.”
Tahir didn’t like it when other people used analogies to simplify ideas. He rubbed his head. “Yes, yes, I get that. There have been lots of studies on the human genome since it was mapped. Surely, you have enough of a baseline to make some logical progression, though.”
“Possibly,” she said. “We don’t have time for incremental steps, though―we need to leap ahead in our understanding. If your timeline is correct, we have so little time.”
Tahir rubbed the itch beginning again beneath the cast. Glancing around, he noticed her workspace was devoid of mementos, photos, personal touches of any type. Like him, she obviously preferred to focus on problems without distractions. “Doctor, one question – what adaptation did the virus make in Skybox?”
She sighed, “That is a very difficult question to answer. You see, human evolution is a constant state of adaptation. Even things we consider as maladies may have been the result of an adaption to solve some other problem. One form of diabetes is now known to have developed a millennium ago in Europeans to help them adapt to colder climates. Evolution also makes some missteps―not every adaptation works. What is complicating this is the Archaea, that is a biological entity that is designed to live in extreme environments. In Skybox, this is what is interacting with his base genome. What we can see right now doesn’t make that much sense. His normal body temperature has decreased slightly. His ability to store fluids and fight dehydration is more efficient. Increased stamina, speed and muscle mass seem likely, but since he was in peak condition before, less easily quantified. The man can hold his breath for almost eight minutes. Markers in several other areas have changed as well. Nothing that makes him super-human, but definitely more adapted to something.”
She could almost see the wheels turning in the man’s head. “What are you thinking, Tahir?”
He stammered slightly when answering, “I…I’ll let you know. Something, yes…something.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jackson, Mississippi
The former preacher’s call had been disturbing, to say the least. “Say that again,” Scott asked.
“I’m at the commercial farms near Yokena. You know, the ones you and Bartos got us set up with.”
Scott remembered clearly. That was last year when he, Bartos and the boy-man, Abe, had made the first contact with the group of farmers. That was before they knew Abe was actually a Messenger spy. Thoughts of the traitorous bast
ard still filled him with rage. “Yeah, Jack. Good people up there. What happened?”
“I think they’re prisoners now. Bunch of guys running around in black unis with guns. They look like they are making them farm their own lands. I’ve been hiding out, scoping them out and already saw two of them killed in a show of force by the guards.”
“Shit,” Scott said in disgust.
Rollins leaned over the seat and showed him and Lt. Garret an incoming drone feed. The screen was in IR mode and showed clusters of bright spots in a confined spot. It appeared to be an enormous herd of cattle. Rollins hit a button and the view changed to normal. Not cows…people.
Garret looked up. “Where is this?”
The view on screen was replaced by a Google map view. “Here, sir.”
“Hang on, Preach.”
Scott pressed the button to expand the view out. The internment camp was on the far side of Jackson. Running a finger along an isolated route, he found Yokena. “I guess that camp wasn’t producing enough food on their own.”
“Stay put and stay safe, Preach. I’m sending you some help. We need to stop this shit once and for all.”
Garret and his men had heard the conversation, and they all looked ready to go charging in. “My dad is going to go ballistic when he hears about this.”
His dad, the fleet commander, was in a position to help if they could get him enough specific intelligence on what all was going on. Scott felt sure what was happening here wasn’t an isolated incident. The Catalyst plans had definitely taken a darker turn.
Skybox, Todd, Scott and company got the Simpsons safely back to the AG. Bobby and Jacob were waiting on the dock as they arrived. Seeing them brought Tre and Mahalia again to tears. Kaylie came and helped them all into the ship to get checked out and a proper meal. Garret left his men to go brief the fleet commander on what they had found.
Bartos came stumbling up out of the dark. Dark grease and grime covered one side of his face.
“Damn, Cajun, you been wallowing with the hogs?”
Bartos snorted like a pig, “I wish, that would be better than what I’ve been doing. Been checking the fuel tanks on this old girl,” he said looking up at the massive ship. “Just seeing what all she can run on, how much is left and all. How did it go up in Jackson? I see the Simpsons made it.”
Scott filled him in on the rescue op and the call from Jack. “So, the NSF is becoming a real problem,” Bartos said.
“Obviously.”
The National Security Force, or NSF, as they had begun calling it, was getting too close to home. If they were shaking down the larger farms and suppliers for resources, how long before they came calling here?
The Simpson family had told them some horror stories of what these NSF bastards had been up to. Skybox had no idea who these guys were, but they’d heard these were former government security and enforcement employees from various departments now unified under some domestic policing force. That being said, they seemed better organized and had more resources than any other group right now. They might be thugs, but they were the President of the United States’ thugs.
“So, when we gonna hit ‘em?” Bartos grinned at the question.
“You know, you are just as psychotic as your dog.”
They both looked over at the dog curled up on the edge of the dock, head resting on his paws, watching them both lazily. “Solo takes offense with that remark.”
“Let’s go in, I’m bushed. We can talk on the way.”
As expected, the older Garret wanted more proof. He was pissed but needed specifics before taking direct action. What was the troop strength, schedules, how often were supply runs made? Where was the food going?
“Sorry, Scott, you know how Dad is.”
“I understand, and I would be the same.” He knew the commander and respected him despite some of the Navy’s failings over the last two years. He always had to remember, though, they wouldn’t even have the AG if it weren’t for the help the older Garret provided.
“So, let’s get a full recon team in place at the farm to support Jack. Drone support and enough manpower to move in if it looks doable. Skybox will probably be up for it as well as a few others.”
The lieutenant nodded in agreement. “I’ll get right on it. Should I count you in?”
“Not yet, I’m going to stay here with Tahir and Bartos. We have to make some progress on getting this boat moving. I don’t suppose your dad offered any assistance with that, did he?”
The man smiled, “Actually...he did. We have a full complement of men and an engineering team to come over as soon as you are ready.”
“Hot damn! Wow, that’s the best news I’ve heard in weeks!”
Chapter Fifteen
Tahir sat in the darkened room lightly tapping a pencil against the side of his head. The rhythm was automatic, almost as autonomous as the way his brain was working, inspecting, analyzing. His conversation with Gia days earlier had stuck with him, and what had originally been a half-formed thought, more nebulous than real, had eventually begun to take shape. His internal dialogue occasionally voiced itself by challenging a thought or offering support for one possibility over another. Today, it was firing queries and possibilities like bolts of lightning.
His brilliant mind loved puzzles and the challenges of complex problem-solving. He had been, still was, a brilliant hacker partially because of the way his mind approached challenging problems. While most people looked for a solution in a logical, analytical and linear manner, Tahir’s brain was wired differently than most. When he met a challenge, his cerebral systems erupted into chaos; storming over the problem, breaking it apart with mental outburst, looking at multiple paths simultaneously. As a teen, he had diagnosed himself with a moderate case of autism but found it useful when he was the one directing it.
Tahir had become skilled at solving complex puzzles at the age of three. By six, he was routinely beating adults at games of all types. He became bored very quickly and had to keep challenging himself with increasingly tougher games and tests of his abilities. By his early teen years, he had been referred to as slightly retarded by one instructor in a report that was supposed to have been confidential, and yet another had called him a true savant; potentially one of the most gifted minds of his generation.
As he discovered computers and then the Internet, his prowess really blossomed. Unfortunately, so did his problems. He had the dubious honor of one of the most brilliant and audacious hacks on one of the most difficult computer systems in the world at age fourteen. By the time the authorities finally figured it out, he had learned to stay well-hidden, cover his tracks and, in the process, had become one of the top computer hackers in the world. He was still just a seventeen-year-old kid; the FBI didn’t even have a strong case against him. In the end, instead of prosecuting and having a judge likely only giving him a slap on the wrist, they had instead offered him a job. Work as a white-hat hacker and do all his juju cyber-witchcraft with the full support of the US Government.
That was eight years ago; the deal he had with the nameless agency’s cyber division had long since been cleared, but his reputation as the best was firmly established. He had later gone on to work for a group affiliated with the NSA before moving to the DOD and then to private government contracting. The result of his early career was that he had an arsenal of information that few people in the world could equal. He had made sure to leave back doors into every system he ever touched, so he could easily access them in the future if needed. Tahir had been at the top of a very elite group for many years, doing his part to keep America safe. But more important to him, was the need to know that which was hidden. On the fateful day, that August, it had all fallen apart. While a master in the cyber world, his skills were much less honed in the physical realm where he now operated.
The theory he had now was bizarre by any standard, but it had to be right. When presented with competing for hypothetical situations, the one with the fewest complications, the simple
st answer, was usually right. He had put it together in his head; now to see if anyone else would believe him.
“You’re completely batshit crazy, Tahir,” Scott said.
Gia’s lab assistant, DJ, nodded, “I agree. As Yoda might say, ‘Knowledge have you, understanding you have not.’”
“Shut up, child. Scott, surely you can see it,” Tahir said grinning.
“Tahir, its way over my head, we need Gia. I was hoping DJ might grasp it but go through it one more time. Kinda like you would explain it to a child.”
“Why would I be explaining genetic engineering to a child?” He paused for a moment before getting it. “Oh, ok, simple. Hmm…let’s see. Ok, you know about the birds and the bees, right?”
“Not that freakin simple,” Scott said with exasperation. “Look, Tahir, I have a basic understanding of genetics. Remember, I once worked in a research lab with Gia, and I’ve read Darwin’s Descent of Man. I understand that humans keep evolving and adapting to changing environments. What I am not getting is the role you think the Chimera is playing.”
“Scott, I’m pretty sure you were the computer jock in that lab, but that’s ok. Think of the virus as two parts. One is the actual viral payload – let’s just call that rabies. It’s not, but it works well for this illustrative discussion.”
“It’s not rabies, goober,” DJ said snidely.
Tahir scratched at his head emphasizing his first words loudly, “FOR THE POINT OF DISCUSSION, let’s call the viral side rabies. The other, we’ll call side ‘B’ is the Archaea.”
Scott was familiar with the Archaea domain from various discussions with Gia, DJ and even Kaylie. He nodded toward his friend, “I’m with you, go on.”
“The B-Side, the Archaea, has the ability to adapt life to extreme living conditions. That’s where they were discovered. Animals living in sealed cave streams, cut off from the world above for millennia, or in the ice and snow of the artic and at the boiling, acidic volcanic vents on the deep ocean floor. The Archaea helped adapt these creatures to live successfully in these harsh environments.”
