Calamity

by Gail McCormick

  Dudley smiled. “Hard to kill an old warhorse like me. It was pretty rough for a while, but I wasn’t about to give up. That’s for weaklings. I will admit the rash was pretty awful, but the cute nurses were super.” He glanced at Kyle who sat nearby. “Anyhow, I still maintain climate change isn’t a big deal. Our great government can handle anything that comes our way. If something in the permafrost is exposed, we can just rebury it. There probably won’t be any more melting anyway. In fact, it’s likely to freeze over again any day. And now that they’ve come up with a vaccine, it doesn’t matter anyhow. We should be focusing on the need to expand drilling for oil and gas.” He glared at Kyle. “But maybe as important right now, I think the creature was planted by Dr. Harden to get people riled up about climate change with me there to see it. And why didn’t the others on the trip get sick? I can’t believe their story that I wasn’t contagious yet. Did they have the vaccine with them? Do they just want government funding to line their own pockets as usual?” he thundered. “That’s what we need to concentrate on!”

  The chair turned to Kyle. “Those are pretty serious accusations, Dr. Harden. What do you have to say about Senator Trotford’s comments?”

  Kyle looked at Dudley, then back at the Chairman. “With all due respect, Senator Trotford is wrong on all counts. He definitely wasn’t contagious yet when we were together. The incubation period is approximately two or three days, possibly a little longer. We had no access to any vaccine. No one even knew that there was a disease, let alone what it was and whether there was a way to deal with it. It’s miraculous the doctors were able to find one.” He glanced at Senator Trotford again. “And we certainly didn’t plant what he picked up. With a bone that size the creature must be massive. To be charitable, maybe Senator Trotford’s thinking has been affected by his illness and he’ll get his ability to reason back. We can hope so. I might remind you that Senator Trotford was stricken by a disease he caught from a creature that emerged from thawing permafrost. He’s wrong. The permafrost is not only continuing to thaw, it’s thawing faster with more and more sinkholes spread over ever widening areas. There’s no telling what will emerge next, no matter what he thinks. We haven’t even wiped this disease out yet. People are still dying.”

  Senator Gomez was one of the Committee members. “What is your advice?” he asked.

  Kyle was quick to respond. “What we actually need to concentrate on is the rapidly thawing permafrost in relation to potentially disastrous climate change. We certainly do need more money to work on it, in addition to money for measures to mitigate climate change. I think that…”

  The chair interrupted him. “You’re talking about stopping the development of oil, gas and coal. That will kill jobs and wreck the economy.”

  Kyle disagreed as politely as he could. “Granted that some of those jobs will be lost. These days there are more new jobs in renewable energy than in the old industries. Wind, solar and such are labor intensive. Coal workers could be retrained for high paying jobs. We can transition fast enough to avoid the need for more oil and gas.”

  Senator Robbins weighed in. At 36 he was the Committee’s youngest legislator and was clearly unhappy. “You’re still talking about massive amounts of money that would mean higher taxes and lead to inflation and a huge deficit.”

  “True, it will be expensive, but it will cost us far less than the effects of hurricanes, wildfires, and insect related diseases like West Nile virus and zika. The current heat wave’s price hasn’t been calculated yet. All of this already kills thousands every year. You could add costs connected to starvation, rebellions and refugee deaths related partly to drought and floods depleting food sources,” Kyle said.

  A different Senator broke in. He was in his 80’s and so bone thin it seemed likely he was suffering from some serious ailment. His navy blue suit hung loosely on a skeletal frame, and his cheeks were so hollow that the skin covering them sagged. “Those are ridiculous exaggerations! No one has proven that any of that’s connected to climate change!”

  “I beg to differ,” Kyle said calmly. “We can now definitely attribute a link to some disasters, and over time, that’s likely to increasingly be the case.”

  That comment drew even more ire from the emaciated Senator. He said, “More of the distorted information being put out by you East Coast liberals. You…”

  Senator Conklin, who was also a Committee member, broke in, “Any idea how much money we’re dealing with, Dr. Harden?” She leaned forward as she spoke causing her brightly colored turban to shift slightly.

  Kyle was happy to explain. “Estimates vary depending on what, if anything constructive, we do. If we keep cutting back environmental funds, removing every possible regulation, increasing the use of coal, gas and oil, we could be in for annual costs to our nation well into the billions. In 2017 alone climate and weather disasters ran over $300 billion.”

  “That could cripple economic growth,” Senator Conklin said.

  “Right.” Kyle folded together the notes he had in front of him on the table. “One more thing. It seems probable an explosion in methane levels dealt the final blow in possibly all the five diebacks that destroyed most life on Earth. Those were probably the result of volcanic eruptions. But, and here’s the critical thing.” He paused for emphasis. “There are hundreds of millions of tons of methane stored in the Arctic permafrost. Numbers that are utterly impossible to comprehend.” He shook his head. “Now we have Arctic sinkholes, mile-long sheets of methane bubbles in the Arctic sea along with continuously rising worldwide levels of methane and carbon dioxide. Are we going to risk loss of life on Earth again?”

  Senators Conklin and Gomez shook their heads. Some of the Committee members looked thoughtful. Others remained stony faced.

  Kyle loosened his tie, picked up his papers, put them in his briefcase and prepared to leave, but paused again. “As for money going into scientists’ pockets, most of us could make a heck of a lot more on Wall Street, or for that matter, as lobbyists for gas and oil companies.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  SAME DAY

  FIVE MINUTES LATER

  OUTSIDE THE DIRKSEN BUILDING

  WASHINGTON DC

  “HOW BAD WAS IT?” Camellia asked. She was leaning against a curved stone wall outside the building under the shade of a tree behind it. Owen had headed back to New York with the puppy, so she was waiting alone.

  “Thanks for the tie,” he said as he took it off and held it out.

  She refused it. “I got it for Frank. It’s yours now.”

  “Then thanks for the gift. You’ll note I do accept gifts.” He folded the tie carefully and put it in his briefcase, took his jacket off and draped it over an arm. “The good news is that there was quite a bit of support from a fair number of legislators even if not from the usual deniers. I’m afraid so far, they’re still in the majority. You’ll be happy to hear that I didn’t show contempt for any of the naysayers thanks to your constant badgering which I do appreciate. But as for Trotford, the man’s nuts. Seriously. Or just trying to divert attention by blaming me. Maybe both. Really strange the way he brings drilling for oil and gas into just about everything he says. You have to wonder why. Maybe your informant has a point. Money from lobbyists can’t be the whole story.”

  Camellia nodded. “He’s lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut.”

  Kyle smiled. “Well said. Anyhow, we can’t leave this attack uncontested. We should confirm my account by checking with Barbara. She was the only other scientist standing close to Trotford when he picked up the bone. She took pictures on her cell that could show the ground around it wasn’t really disturbed, meaning I couldn’t have planted the creature there ahead of our trip. Come on. She’s back in D.C. I’ll call and tell her we’re on our way.”

  He hailed a passing taxi, and they got in.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  TEN MINUTES LATER

  BARBARA’s THREE STORY APARTMENT BUILDING
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  WASHINGTON DC

  THEY WERE UNPREPARED FOR THE ASSAULT. Barbara came down the steps and waved as they arrived. Camellia stood just below her on the second step when shots were fired in their direction by a man on a motorcycle. Kyle was a few yards away. He dashed up to Camellia and threw her to one side, both landing on the cement walkway. He was on top of her, his body covering hers. The assailant sped off.

  They got up and saw that Barbara was lying against the fourth step, blood pouring from her forehead.

  Kyle went over to her, reached down and felt her pulse. He shook his head. “God help us. She’s gone. We need to call the police.”

  He dialed 911, reported the murder and provided the address. As a small crowd gathered around the steps, the building superintendent came out and joined them.

  “Can you stay with her until the police arrive?” Kyle asked him. “We need to leave.” He picked up the briefcase and jacket he’d dropped when he fell on Camellia. She retrieved her own things.

  “Yes,” the super replied. “I knew her. She was a fine lady.” He sat down on the steps next to her.

  Kyle took Camellia’s arm. “Quick. We’ve got to get into her apartment and find her cell phone. Pictures of the bone could still be on it.” He looked around. “The killer could be back at any moment.”

  They dashed up the steps and found Barbara’s front door was open. She had clearly thought they would all be going into it together and hadn’t bothered to lock it.

  There was nothing particularly notable about Barbara’s living room. The furnishings were ordinary although the prints on her walls were mostly by Andy Warhol and Salvador Dali, an odd combination that did somehow work with the sole unusual piece of furniture, a snare drum used as a footstool. Camellia and Kyle started searching for the phone.

  As he checked the coffee table and small table beside the couch he looked back at Camellia. “Are you sure you want to keep on with this?”

  “You should know by now that’s a stupid question. Come to think of it, I’ve already told you that you’re dumb, haven’t I? Where else should we look?”

  “Dumb as a sack of rocks as I recall. Let’s try over there by her desk,” he said as he headed for it. “Found it! Let’s get out of here ASAP before the police arrive or the killer comes back.”

  They shut the door, rushed down the stairs and out to the street, scanning in both directions as they went. They moved off quickly as sirens screamed and police cars and an ambulance arrived.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  A FEW MINUTES LATER

  ON THE STREET

  WASHINGTON DC

  “WE SHOULD BE SAFE HERE. Looks like we’re far away enough from Barbara’s place. Let’s sit for a minute,” Kyle said when they found a bench in an empty bus shelter next to a nearby bus stop. They were a few blocks from Barbara’s apartment. “It’s shaded, and I need to plan what to do next.”

  “Sure,” Camellia replied. She sat down gingerly.

  “Are you ok?” he asked, noticing her discomfort.

  “You landed on me pretty hard,” she replied. “But that’s a whole lot better than not having had you land on me at all. I don’t think you were a target and probably weren’t in danger. You were pretty far behind Barbara and me when the shots were fired.”

  “True,” he said as he checked the photos on Barbara’s phone. “These aren’t as clear as I hoped they’d be. We’re going to need to go back to Siberia to the spot where we found the beast. We’d need to do that even if the pictures were good.”

  “They still haven’t figured out what it was?”

  “No. It seems to go back thousands of years when there were creatures we’ve never seen before. It’s pretty amazing that anything so old has already turned up. Anyway, we can photograph the location and more mounds with methane exploding. Hopefully we’ll find more exposed animals. That would give us a better chance to convince Congress of the risk thawing poses and prove I didn’t plant the bone. Otherwise the accusation will go viral. Once that happens, it’s impossible to convince people it was a lie. Are you game?” He shook his head immediately after asking the question. “No, maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to come along. You’d be safer staying here. I know my mother would be happy to put you up. She has the best security available.”

  “Of course I’m game, idiot! You saved my life, for god’s sake. How could I back out now? Things have been going to hell in a handbasket. I’ll bet we can get Owen to go with us too.”

  Kyle thought it over and said reluctantly, “Okay, that would be good. I can probably dredge up another scientist or two, Robert Barnes for one and maybe my grad student for another. It’ll take a few days to arrange. But before I do anything else, I’ve got to contact Barbara’s parents. Fortunately she wasn’t married. But what a huge loss.”

  “I’m sorry,” Camellia said. “You were close, weren’t you?”

  “Actually, I hardly saw her other than the few times she came to the Institute.”

  “Oh, I thought maybe you two might be…”

  “What?” Then he guessed what she was thinking. “Oh, no romance. You, of all people, should know that. She lived here in DC. We’d only collaborated briefly once before and that mostly by Skype or email. But that doesn’t make it much easier. She was a truly dedicated scientist, one of the people we need more of. And I know she was close to her parents. They’ll be devastated.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  NEXT DAY

  RIVERSIDE CHURCH

  IN FRONT

  MANHATTAN

  AN ATTACK WAS TO BE EXPECTED BUT ONLY A PSYCHIC COULD HAVE PINPOINTED EXACTLY WHEN IT WOULD OCCUR. The magnificent Riverside church faced the Hudson River with a steeple soaring into the sky above. Modeled after the 13th century gothic cathedral in Chartres, it was the tallest church in the United States. Camellia wore an enormous sun hat engulfing so much of her head that she could hardly see out from under it. The sunscreen slathered all over her face and arms made her feel greasy. She stood in front of the church waiting for Owen to start shooting. Her black outfit absorbed the sun’s heat. It was 90 degrees in the shade despite a breeze drifting off the River.

  When Owen was ready, she took the hat off and said, “I’m sorry to have to report that we’re having problems here in New York, although the situation is better than in D.C. The eulogies for Peter McDougal and Fred Sanford will be taking place inside the church in a few minutes, and a crowd has gathered here. They’re complicating things.”

  Owen panned to a large group of people collected around the church, some blocking the entrance making it difficult for mourners to go inside. Many in the crowd held signs. The majority had slogans like CLIMATE CHANGE IS REAL, SAVE THE NEXT GENERATION, PROTECT THE ARCTIC!, FIND A CURE, END FOSSIL FUELS. A few placards read DRILL, BABY DRILL, VOTE OIL, FAKE NEWS and RID US OF LIBERALS. There were a couple of polar bears and a small man wrapped in such a diaphanous American flag that it completely engulfed his upper body. A much larger man with a buzzcut and tattooed arms stood closer to Camellia than the other protesters. He held a FAKE NEWS sign. She looked over at him and frowned. I’ve seen him before, she thought. There were heavily armed police surrounding the crowd, keeping it contained.

  A young woman emerged from a limousine and headed toward Camellia. She was dressed in black and couldn’t have been more than 15 or 16.

  “You’re Deborah Sanford, aren’t you?” Camellia asked, holding the mic out so that she could be heard.

  “Yes. And I just wanted people to know that my father didn’t go along with many of his friends. It was his dream to have solar panels on every roof in Manhattan. I plan to make his dream a reality.”

  “Thank you,” Camellia said. “I’m sorry about your loss.”

  Deborah turned and went up the steps and into the Church.

  “The death count in New York from the Mystery Fever has risen to 487, and it has created tremendous anxiety and anger,” Camel
lia continued. “Bad as that is, it’s less than D.C. where the count is now 1198. President Morris has been holding press conferences daily with most media concentrating primarily on what the Government is doing. Coverage has been so intensive that people know officials are having a hard time coping with the situation. You can see that the networks have a lot of representatives here.”

  Owen panned to the surrounding reporters from CBS, NBC, and ABC, among others. He mouthed hello to Dan Lowell from CNN who stood a couple of yards away from them.

  While the camera wasn’t focused on her, Camellia wiped her forehead. “Hospitals here as well as in D.C. aren’t able to provide intensive care for anything like the number of people needing it. Most aren’t expected to survive,” she continued. “Funeral homes are overwhelmed. And here too we’ve heard that people are suffering from heat exhaustion, some even dying of heat stroke which is compounding the hospitals’ problems.”

  As she spoke, a massive SUV sped along the street, mounted the sidewalk and slammed into the CNN cameraman and anchor, then regained the street and shot away before anyone had time to react. Dan Lowell lay on the sidewalk, his cameraman knocked on his back beside him. A few others were on their knees or flat on the ground. Owen dropped his camera, rushed over, knelt next to Don and took his hand. There was nothing he could do since Don was unconscious, his neck twisted with blood pouring from a gash near an ear. Camellia picked up the camera and joined them. At that point the police took over, pushed the crowd back and sent for ambulances. Several squad cars attempted to chase the SUV but it was long gone. Owen and Camellia waited until the ambulances arrived and took Don, his cameraman and the others away. They went back to their previous position, and Owen set up again.