by Sean Kidd
What was he talking about? He didn’t say anything about what’s going on. Don’t go out! Is that why the streets were empty? It had to be. Whatever this thing was, maybe it would all be over soon.
I picked up the phone to call my dad. He’s a cop in town, and he knows everything that’s going on. The first three times I tried I got a busy signal, like they had before call waiting. Finally, I connected.
“Shit! Voice mail!”
“Dad, it's Ty. Can you call me back when you get this?” I was about to hit End Call when I remembered those key words that would ensure a call back, “Oh! And I don’t need any money!”
Dad was probably still sleeping. He worked the night shift, and had his entire career. He usually got done around 7am and woke up around two in the afternoon. I guess I’ll surf the channels until he calls me back and try to pick up some news.
Every channel had the same story on about some guy who had gone to Africa and brought back the Ebola Virus. I spent the next hour watching specialists and doctors, talking about how the virus spreads, and how it mutated into an airborne strain. My head began to throb again, and I started sweating. Thanks Buddy! You probably gave me Ebola too. Well, since I’m gonna die soon, I might as well hit the Xbox and bust a cap in a few zombie asses before I croak from Ebola.
Chevy walked into the living room, naked except for a pair of tighty whities. He stopped to scratch his balls in front of me, “Really?” I snapped. He sat on the couch next to me and grabbed the second controller, “What’s up man?”
“I’m smokin’ some zombies. Oh! And I’m dying from Ebola too!”
“Cool! Move over! I’m playing.”
CHAPTER 7
October 3rd 3:00pm
“They’re all going to die!” screamed Doctor Miranda Frost as she turned and looked out of the hospital window, feeling tears well up behind her eyes. She slowly dropped her chin to her chest. Trying not to think of the inevitable catastrophe that was about to unfold on her watch. Miranda sniffed and sensed a tear roll down her cheek. Oh great! Miranda thought to herself. Now my mascara is going to run, and I can’t wipe my face in this goddamn biohazard suit. Everyone’s going to know I’m crying. I don’t cry! I’m Dr. Miranda Frost, Chief Infectious Specialist of DART, and this is my site, “Damn it!”
Miranda lifted her head as the sun was approaching the western Palo Alto skyline. The now abandoned buildings beyond the San Francisquito Creek were just beginning to transmute an orange glow. How beautiful this place use to be, but now had been enveloped by the most devastating plague known to modern man.
Miranda’s attention was distracted by a low-flying Army helicopter, hovering off the hospital grounds, approaching the creek bed. Miranda saw the soldier flying the helicopter was wearing the military camo version of her suit. She could also see the helicopter had been retrofitted with a very large gun on the nose of the aircraft. The gun was tracking the pilot’s head movements and following in sync. The pilot was tracking a couple of people who looked like they were in their mid-twenties. They were running from the helicopter, trying to make it to the creek. The pilot came over the loud speaker, ordering the couple to stop running. When they didn’t stop, the pilot’s orders became pleas, “Please stop! Go home! I have orders to shoot!”
The pilot took drastic action, swinging the helicopter around bringing the nose of the aircraft within inches of the ground, blocking the couple’s path. Attempting any means to prevent the situation from ending in violence. The couple stopped, following his commands and dropping to their knees. Within seconds, two Army Humvees pulled up. Soldiers wearing green camouflage biohazard suits jumped out with their rifles raised. The soldiers surrounded the couple, still pointing their rifles and barking out commands. In perfect synchronicity, the couple dropped down to a prone position with their hands locked behind their heads. Two soldiers approached from behind and placed them in hand cuffs. The couple were dragged to the backseat of the Humvee and driven out of sight.
This is insane! Miranda thought to herself, not believing what she had just seen. Miranda’s chin fell back to her chest. She had just closed her eyes when she was startled by a voice behind her, “Miranda, are you okay?”
Miranda felt a pair of hands caressing her shoulders, “I can’t take it anymore Ted!”
Dr. Theodore (Ted) Grace had been Miranda’s number two for the last four years. Ted was essentially on loan from the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Disease (USAMRIID), but he answered directly to Miranda and was considered a permanent fixture at the CDC. Together, Ted and Miranda discovered and worked on a serum for H1N1 in Mexico in 2009. As a team, they had seen everything from Haunta in Arizona to Ebola in Algeria. During their years together, Ted had become a stable fixture in Miranda’s life, both at work and home. There’s something about serious tragedies that can bring hearts together. During those tragedies, Ted was her crutch.
“Miranda, you need some rest. You’ve been going non-stop for the last 48 hours.” Ted said as he released her shoulders, reaching for her hands.
“How am I going to sleep with all these people dying around us?” Miranda whimpered as she felt the uncontrollable pressure of tears building up again.
“Miranda, you’re not doing anyone any good here. They’re dying! All we can do is make them as comfortable as possible. Most of them won’t make it through the night.” Ted bent down so he could look up at Miranda’s lowered head. Black lines of mascara trailed down her cheeks. He put his arms around her, “It’s okay. Let it out.”
Miranda broke away from Ted’s hug, “I don’t want to let it out! I want to do something! I just can’t seem to wrap my brain around this. How many patients contracted Ebola when we were in Algeria?”
“Miranda it doesn’t matter.”
Miranda’s tears turned to anger, “How many did we have Ted?” demanded Miranda.
“We had 223 confirmed cases of Ebola, and we lost 156.” Miranda leaned back against the counter, looking up, trying to figure the math in her head, “That’s about a 70% mortality rate, in a small clinic, and in a village with no modern medicine or equipment.” She started pacing along the windows, moving her fingers like a child counting, “And how many patients do we have here in Palo Alto?”
“As of this morning, we had 789, and none of them are showing signs of improvement. They’re all critical, and we don’t expect any to make it through the next 72 hours.”
Miranda’s pacing stopped, and she was back at Ted again, “Not only has this strain gone airborne, but it seems to kill everyone who comes in contact with it. Ted, this bug is one nasty son of a bitch!”
Ted sat in the nurse’s chair and spun slowly, looking across the patient’s ward, “What are we going to do Miranda?” Ted asked. Miranda put both hands on the desk next to Ted. She was silent for a few moments, then Ted thought he heard a gentle laugh come from underneath Miranda’s hood. She looked up at him smiling, “Do you speak French, Ted?”
CHAPTER 8
October 3rd 2:30pm
Dr. Marcil gave us a tour though McGill’s extensive campus as we made our way toward his private secure laboratory.
“Ah, here we are gentleman, Sophie if you would be so kind.” Dr. Marcil motioned by waving his hand at a large set of steel doors that acted as the outer security system of his lab. Sophie stepped up to the steel doors and placed her hand against the bio-print pad. With her simple touch, a glow of blue encompassed her fingers. Simultaneously, a thin light wave emitted from the display encasing Sophie’s face, with a multicolor LED grid, forming a pattern of small squares on her. With her face lit, Sophie gave her security code, “Dr. Simone, 71770.” The lights all began to pulse green as a computer generated female’s voice spoke, “Good Afternoon Dr. Simone.” The edges of Sophie’s lips curled up, “Good Afternoon MARIA. How are you today?” “I’m doing very well Dr. Simone. How are you and Dr. Marcil today?”
Bob watched as the security system identified Sophie, “MARIA?” hissed
across his lips as he exhaled.
Dr. Marcil turned to Bob after hearing his whisper, “Yes, MARIA is our lab security and doubles as our assistant. We call her MARIA for short. It actually stands for, McGill’s Automated Research Intelligence Assistant. MARIA likes to keep her eyes and ears on everything we do in the lab. She’s as much a part of the team as we are. Try not to think of her as our security system, but more of an assistant.” Dr. Marcil said. Bob looked back at the screen on the door as an, “Uh-huh,” escaped his lips. Bob listened as the conversation between Sophie and MARIA continued, “Dr. Simone, I see we have visitors.”
“Yes MARIA, this is Major Jean-Luc Besson from the Canadian Military, and Colonel Robert Aiken from the United States.” When MARIA spoke again, Bob looked for the almost invisible pinhole speaker in the door.
“Hello, Colonel Aiken and Major Besson. I am happy to be at your service. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask. Please come in.”
The sound of an electric motor hummed, followed by the echoing thump of the large retracting steel bars within the door.
“These doors are designed to withstand the blast of a large amount of Semtex!” Dr. Marcil bragged.
Dr. Marcil motioned for the men to enter through the steel door. Bob followed Sophie as he was led through a maze of secured doors. Each door opened with a different type of inner security system ranging from retina scanning identification, to a simple key card with a numeric key pad. Bob was impressed with the security features of the lab, “Doctor, you’ve certainly done your homework on your security protocol, but why such an elaborate system to protect a cure?”
Dr. Marcil’s ears perked up, “Ah, good question indeed Colonel. In our line of work, we always need to be thinking of alternate possibilities.” He tapped his index finger against his temple and pointed to the ceiling, “MARIA, will you help us with the Colonel’s question?”
“Of course Dr. MarciI, it’s quite easy.” Bob peered up at the ceiling looking for the voice again. “He who has all the power is king!” Bob lifted an eyebrow to Dr. Marcil, giving him a, did I just miss something look? The invisible speaker came on again, “Colonel Aiken, please allow me to elaborate. What would you do if one of your loved ones contracted a terrible disease and only one group of individuals controlled the serum?”
Without hesitation, Bob said, “I suppose, I’d do just about anything to get my hands on it.”
“What if that same group of individuals wanted to save it for themselves, fearing the possibility of an outbreak among their own ranks, making them unwilling to give to the needy for self-preservation?” Bob took a deep breath and exhaled, “I don’t know what I’d do. I guess whatever I had to.”
Dr. Marcil looked at a computer monitor sitting on a nearby desk, as though MARIA was a material presence in the room, he asked, “Is that all you have to say about it MARIA?”
“No, Dr. Marcil. If I may be allowed to expound on the subject further?” Dr. Marcil shot Bob a smile, “By all means MARIA, let’s hear what you have to say on the matter!”
There was a short pause as if MARIA was giving the illusion of thinking.
“Colonel Aiken, there is the possibility that the motive of some individuals is not to help people, but to hurt them.” Bob looked at the ceiling as he spoke, as if MARIA’s presence was now above him, “I don’t understand how a cure could do anything but help people.”
Again, after a short pause, MARIA summed up her theory, “Colonel Aiken, what if it was the intent of certain individuals to hurt an entire nation, like your United States? They might be inclined to infect the population with a disease, after having gained control of the disease’s serum, and withhold the cure from nations other than their own. Although, in this case, it would seem you may have already accidentally infected yourselves, or have you?”
Bob’s mouth fell open. Had this been an accident, or was it some sort of terrorist act? War was for soldiers, but terrorists didn’t care who they killed. Bob supposed there wasn’t much difference between killing a child and cutting off a man’s head on world television. In the end, it was all about the body count!
“Well MARIA, you certainly brought up an interesting point!”
Bob broke his stare from the ceiling and moved to Dr. Marcil, “Please tell me that’s not the case, Doctor!”
Dr. Marcil tapped a four-digit code into a key pad, and pulled open a large steel freezer door, “Everything you need is in here.”
The freezer door opened, revealing a cooler as big as a football field. Both sides lined with hundreds of brown cardboard boxes, each one was the size of a dorm room refrigerator. Every box was stamped with large red letters spelling out ZMAPP.
Bob took a step into the freezer and felt the fan blow the cool air over his face, “My god Doctor. This is incredible!”
Sophie stepped into the cooler next to Bob, “Doctor Marcil and I have been preparing for this day for the last ten years. This is half of our serum. The other half is off site in a federal security center for disease control in Ottawa.”
“We have created a supply of serum large enough to dose every man, woman and child in the world. Not only can we guarantee them a dose, but we can do it in twenty four hours.”
Bob rubbed his hand across the top of the cold cardboard box and asked, “How is that possible?”
With a triumphant smirk, Sophie announced, “It’s soluble!”
“What?”
“Yes. It was a breakthrough Dr. Marcil, and I had two years ago. Nobody heard about it because our whole program is top secret. The serum can be mixed with any fluid. Your government has planned for an incident just like this. They plan on adding ZMapp to your reservoirs and water filtration plants. People will be able to self-medicate, and not even realize they're doing it. Because the serum is built from a protein base, ZMapp is harmless in any amounts. Theoretically, after dosing the water supply, the entire US could be vaccinated by dinnertime tomorrow.”
The conversation was ended by a click above their heads, “Dr. Marcil!”
“Yes, MARIA!”
“I’m receiving a call from Dr. Miranda Frost. Would you like me to put it through?”
“Colonel Aiken, I believe you are an acquaintance of Dr. Frost. She’s on-site at Palo Alto.” Bob nodded his head yes.
“Well in that case, MARIA put her on speaker.”
CHAPTER 9
October 3rd 3:15pm
The speaker above their heads clicked again, followed by three short beeps.
“Hello Dr. Frost. This is Dr. Marcil here. You're on with Dr. Simone, Major Besson and Colonel Aiken. How is the situation in Palo Alto, Dr. Frost?” The entire group was focused on the speaker now.
“Dr. Marcil, I’m not going to sugar coat it. It’s bad! The worst I’ve ever seen. The Alto Strain has mutated and is now airborne with a survival rate of zero!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Dr. Marcil caught Bob’s mouth fall open for the third time today.
“Miranda, It’s Bob here. What do you mean survival rate of zero? That’s not possible with the resources we have.”
“I wish that were true, Bob. This thing is killing people 72 hours after first symptoms.” Bob sat and listened in disbelief, “Miranda. What's the total extent of the situation there?”
Miranda paused as though she was calculating the damage. “We’ve lost it, Bob!”
Bob’s hand instinctively touched his forehead as he looked up at the speaker in the ceiling. “Oh my god Miranda! We’ve lost the entire Intensive Care Unit?”
“No Bob, We’ve lost Palo Alto!”
“Oh my!” came from the corner of the room as Bob looked over to see Sophie stepping back, reaching for the chair to balance herself.
The speaker in the ceiling began to hum again catching Bob’s attention. Miranda came on pleading, “Bob, we need you here now!”
Bob surveyed the room, his eyes locking on the boxes of ZMapp, “Miranda, we'll be there in eight hours!”
/> “Please hurry, Bob!” Miranda pleaded before hearing the distinctive click from the call being disconnected.
Bob turned to Major Besson, “Can you get me a cargo jet in the next hour?” Jean-Luc looked at the gloom on Sophie’s face, then back at Bob again, “Colonel, I can have a jet loaded with your ZMapp and in the air in sixty minutes.”
“Doctor Marcil, I’m going to have to steal some of your ZMapp serum.” Bob said apologetically.
Dr. Marcil stepped into the threshold of the cooler, admiring his life’s work and answered, “A certain condition comes with ZMapp, Colonel.” Bob gave the doctor and inquisitive look, “What is the condition Doctor?”
Doctor Marcil reached out and touched the rough cardboard surface and spoke again, “I created the ZMapp Colonel. It doesn’t go anywhere without me.”
“Us!” The three men watched a faint Sophie rising from her chair, “We created ZMapp Doctor, and it doesn’t go anywhere without us!”
By the time Sophie had stood up, Jean-Luc was already on the phone making the arrangements.
Eight hours later the Canadian CC-177 Globemaster was landing on the now military controlled Palo Alto Airport.
The Globemaster’s co-pilot stepped out of the cockpit just before landing, motioned to Major Besson. The two men conferenced for a minute and turned to Bob and the Doctors.
“Colonel Aiken, the crew has advised me that the entire city is under quarantine, and we are ordered to be suited up before breaking the seal on the doors.”
Major Besson opened a storage hatch near the tail of the plane, exposing a dozen yellow plastic suits. The crew joined them after touchdown. Over the next thirty minutes, they were all engaged in the monotonous process of suit instruction and inspection followed by dressing.
