Stillness

by Eldon Farrell

  Taking the seat opposite him Mary asks, “Then what?”

  “So much death all around…stirring up bad memories I guess.”

  “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?”

  Taking a final sip of coffee Jacob shakes his head saying, “Can’t even if I wanted to.” He looks down at his plate. When he looks at her again there’s an impossible distance in his eyes. “I have to get back to The Sound.”

  “Don’t work yourself too hard Jake, you really do look exhausted.”

  Jacob leaves a healthy tip on the table and with a half-hearted smile walks away through the front door. Outside he fumbles with his car keys as he approaches his bomb parked by the curb. Coming around to the driver’s side he notices the two extremely flat tires.

  Cursing under his breath he hammers the roof of his car and looks around. Not that he really expects the culprit to still be here but you never know. With a violent kick he shoves off from the car.

  Bending down he feels the tear in the front tire, a single long slash made by a knife. Pocketing his keys he punches the side of his car and stands up. Fuck it! I’ll walk back to work.

  The sounds of conversation disappear as Lynne Bosworth takes a seat at the head of the long conference table. At the other end three computer screens have been set up facing the room. She recognizes Roger and Wendy in Atlanta on the far right hand screen but knows nothing of the other two screens.

  Looking around the room she recognizes only Danny Gordon seated to her left. Across from him a man in a white coat with short brown hair and a tired expression sits with his eyes on her.

  “All right,” she begins “Let’s get this meeting going. We’ll start with introductions. I’m sure you all know I’m Dr. Lynne Bosworth from the CDC. I know Dr. Danny Gordon here and Doctors Roger Whittaker and Wendy Rojas in Atlanta. If the others present could introduce themselves for the record.”

  The man across from Danny starts, “Dr. Henry Abbot, practicing physician for Stillness.”

  Turning her gaze to the first screen on the far left Lynne awaits the introduction.

  “Dr. Chris Rahlings in Bethesda Maryland, from the National Institute of Allergies and Infectious Diseases.”

  The face on the last screen introduces himself; “Four-Star General Alex Cummings in Fort Detrick Maryland, I run the United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases.”

  “Before we begin,” Dr. Rahlings speaks up, “I’d like to inform the group of the latest.”

  Lynne focuses on his screen and examines the man on it. He’s wearing an impressive three piece navy blue suit, obviously tailored precisely to fit his body. His shoulders appear broad beneath the expensive fabric. Gold-rimmed spectacles sit prominently atop his sharp nose, perfectly framing his focused green eyes.

  His auburn hair shows streaks of silvery gray throughout it. On some the look might make the person appear aged, but on Dr. Chris Rahlings it carries the effect of Old-World sophistication.

  “We now have confirmed reports of this infection in Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri, and Illinois. Authorities in all neighboring states have been put on alert to anything that even resembles the symptoms of this outbreak.

  “Suffice to say, the current administration is anxious to have some answers as to what is going on.”

  “Then I’d suggest we get right down to the business of establishing a differential diagnosis,” Lynne replies.

  “Or more pressing perhaps,” Chris declares “We establish that this is in fact bioterrorism.”

  “The two are not exclusive,” Roger points out.

  Taking back command of the meeting, Lynne says, “From reading the reports provided to me, it doesn’t appear that the actual patient zero has been identified yet. Where are we with efforts to find them?”

  “Hold on,” Chris raises his voice an octave. “What do you mean patient zero hasn’t been found? My information identifies Nikolai Markov as the first patient.”

  “Nikolai Markov died of pneumonic plague,” Lynne answers “We’re looking for the index case of bubonic plague.”

  “How can you be sure there is one?” General Cummings asks in a calm yet pressing voice.

  “Exactly,” Chris adds, “As a bioterrorist attack there is no need for this to have started as bubonic plague.”

  “I wasn’t aware we’d determined it was a bioterrorist attack.” Wendy Rojas says making no effort to hide her dislike of Chris Rahlings and his interruptions.

  “I hate to say it,” Danny says joining the conversation for the first time, “But with the way this thing is spreading, bioterrorism isn’t such a bad assumption.”

  “Are we here to make assumptions?” Henry Abbot mumbles into his chest.

  “What was that?”

  All eyes rest upon Henry as he raises his head to speak clearly. “I was just saying that we’re not here to make assumptions. Assumptions lead to faulty decisions and nothing good. Believe me, I know.”

  Closing his eyes at the thought of Zack Palmer, he takes a cleansing breath adding, “We need to find the facts of what is going on here.”

  Lynne stares at the man who previously looked so exhausted. She now sees the conviction in his eyes and recognizes the pain of loss there as well. Smiling slightly at him she decides that she’s going to like working with him.

  “Dr. Abbot is right,” Lynne says, “It would be a mistake to conclude that this is bioterrorism based solely on assumptions.”

  “Then find the facts!” Chris barks.

  Silence overtakes the room as everyone struggles to hide their surprise at the veracity of the outburst. “I’m sorry,” Chris raises his palms up to the camera, “I just don’t understand how much more proof you need.”

  “Any proof at all would be a start,” Roger points out in his normal placid tone.

  “Nikolai Markov was a bioweapons engineer for Biopreparat. This man was intimately familiar with the Soviet Union’s deadliest microbes. Now he turns up here dead with an outbreak in full swing.”

  The implication hangs in the tense air of the meeting until Lynne replies, “No one denies Markov’s background, but how is it relevant to anything?”

  “How is it not?” Chris asks incredulously.

  “As far as I’m concerned it proves nothing.” Lynne stares straight at the computer monitor saying, “The fact that he was a scientist who worked for his government on biological weapons does not make him a terrorist.

  “Just because he had the knowledge doesn’t mean he used it.” Looking pointedly around the room she adds, “If the knowledge alone made one a terrorist, then many in this very meeting would have to be looked at closer.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Chris mocks, “It’s hardly the same thing.”

  “If I might,” General Cummings interrupts “We seem to be stuck in a bit of a loop here. Let’s move on to more constructive lines of inquiry.”

  Turning her attention away from Chris Rahlings, Lynne once again takes the reigns of the meeting asking Danny again for a progress report on the search for patient zero.

  “So far all reported cases have been pneumonic plague,” he answers “I have a few people looking for the most likely point of origin for this infection. Hope is if we can find where it started, we might find a case of bubonic plague.”

  Shaking his head he finishes, “So far we’ve had no luck but we are stretched a little thin at the moment.”

  “Understanding that Markov was found in a cave near there,” Wendy asks, “Has anyone tested the cave’s fauna for traces of infection? Seems that’s the most likely source.”

  Lynne cringes realizing that the last sentence was a barb directed right at the rather short-tempered Dr. Rahlings.

  “Cursory tests were performed,” Danny answers, “We found nothing, but our attention was shortly pulled away by the increase in human infections.”

  “So nothing was found in the local fauna,” Chris begins “Interesting. So where did Markov contract his illne
ss? I mean if he didn’t get it from anything in the cave.”

  “Yet to be determined,” Roger points out in a clipped tone.

  “This is ridiculous,” Chris declares, “It is obvious that no one in this meeting is willing to admit the obvious. Rather than wasting our time—time we don’t really have—looking for something that isn’t there, we should be spending it finding out who else helped Markov release this thing.”

  A collective groan echoes in the room before Lynne responds to the charges. “Dr. Rahlings I appreciate your conviction, but the last time I checked the CDC was running this investigation. Has that changed?”

  Roger shakes his head saying, “CDC is still calling the shots on the ground and you’re still lead on this one.”

  “Good.” Lynne continues “Now that we’ve got that cleared up I hope we can work together on this. Understand that all leads will be followed up until the truth is uncovered.

  “To that end, I will be heading out to the cave that Markov was found in and collecting samples for evaluation. If it is our foci of infection, we need to know. Danny, I’d appreciate your help.”

  He nods his assent and she continues “Obviously, Dr. Abbot is needed on the ward. General, samples of blood, sputum, and lung tissue from patients will be sent to your labs for outside confirmation of Atlanta’s findings.

  “Roger, I’d like you to set up a team in the lab to run kill curves on this thing. Find out what antibiotics it’s resistant to, and hopefully what it’s susceptible to. Field reports note streptomycin resistance so you might start with gentamicin or maybe one of the tetracyclines.”

  “Anything for me boss?” Wendy asks with a smile.

  “I need you to compare the profiles from all the known infected. Find out what they had in common and maybe more importantly what they didn’t have in common with those who haven’t gotten sick yet.”

  “I’m on it,” she replies enthusiastically.

  “Dr. Rahlings.”

  “Anything NIAID can do to help?”

  “Keep looking into the possibility of bioterrorism. I may not personally believe that it’s what’s happening here, but as I said, we cannot afford to overlook any lead.

  “Also, before you said ‘who else helped Markov’. What did you mean by that?”

  “The latest word I have is that the FBI has linked one,” Chris flips through some papers in front of him “William Sullivan to Nikolai Markov.”

  “An accomplice?” General Cummings muses.

  “It’s what it looks like now.”

  “It’s what it will look like later that’s important,” Wendy says to Chris in a derisive way.

  “Everyone knows what they’re doing?” Lynne asks the room before standing to end the meeting, “Then let’s get to work.”

  Opening the door to the interrogation room, Caleb Fine lowers the file in his hands and stares at the man chained to the other side of the table. To his eyes he looks not much more than a boy.

  “Afternoon,” he scrapes the chair along the battered floor before sitting down across the table from his prisoner. “Mr. Sullivan, let me introduce myself. I’m Caleb Fine, Special Agent with the FBI.”

  “FBI?” Will Sullivan repeats confused.

  Caleb smiles. “Before we go any further let me assure you that this has nothing to do with your local troubles. I understand from Sheriff Anjou that you waived your right to a lawyer in that matter.

  “Not the smartest move, you think? I’m required to ask you if you’d like a lawyer present for this meeting.” Caleb sets a tape recorder up on the table between them and motions for Will to answer.

  “What’s this about? Am I being charged with something?”

  “We’re just talking right now—no charges on the table…yet.”

  “And what will we be talking about?”

  “Section 175 of Title 18 of the United States Criminal Code, Biological Weapons Section. In your case conspiracy to commit.”

  Will shakes his head looking away from him for a moment before asking, “Are you joking?”

  “No joke,” Caleb states matter of fact.

  “I don’t need a lawyer now, but I reserve the right to request one later.”

  “Of course,” Caleb loosens the knot on his dark blue tie asking “Do you know Nikolai Markov?”

  “No.”

  “Name means nothing to you?”

  “No.”

  “Never heard it before?”

  “What did I say? No.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “Yeah,” Will asks, “What’s so interesting about that?”

  Caleb just smiles across at him before turning his eyes down to the table and the folder resting on it. Opening it up he says nonchalantly “A lot of people are dying around here right now.”

  “I suppose they are. What does that have to do with me?”

  Leaning forward Caleb steeples his hands on the table, lowering his voice saying, “What if I told you the FBI was investigating the possibility that this outbreak is…not naturally occurring. Would that mean anything to you? Would it change your answer regarding Nikolai Markov?”

  The chain around his wrist rattles in the quiet of the room as Will adjusts himself in the chair. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Now that’s not true Mr. Sullivan,” Caleb taps his index finger on the folder. “You sent a request to the FBI regarding your parents’ death a few years ago. In it you hypothesize how they came into contact with a mysterious stranger who infected them with some illness. The symptoms you describe the stranger as having seem awfully close to the symptoms that are going around now.” Caleb holds Will in his gaze—his green eyes boring into him, “Wouldn’t you say so Mr. Sullivan?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  Closing the folder with a flourish Caleb says, “We’ve uncovered evidence linking you to Nikolai Markov. E-mails on his computer detail quite a lengthy partnership between the two of you.

  “I must say the tone of the correspondence leaves little doubt as to his and yours…frustrated intentions.”

  “I-I want my lawyer.”

  “Yes,” Caleb says standing up, “I figured you might.”

  Chapter 23

  October 18

  This can’t be happening.

  Alone in his room Cody Lincoln is freaking out. Before going to bed last night he took a handful of Tylenol to calm the fever raging inside him.

  It didn’t work.

  Sitting up to the harsh light of dawn his fever and headache are worse. It feels like someone is sticking needles in his eyes.

  Coughing into his hand he quivers from the effort and struggles to regain his breath. Laying back down he prays his parents won’t find him like this.

  Tears crest in the corners of his eyes and run down over his ears wetting the pillow under his head.

  This can’t be happening. I’m too young to die.

  Like Tim was too young to die…

  Lurching upward he falls to his knees beside the bed and reaching for the wastebasket retches into it. When he’s finished he notices the drops of blood staining the bottom.

  Oh God, what’s wrong with me? Am I going to die? Why didn’t I go to the hospital when I first started having the headaches?

  The questions rattle around inside his head unanswered. Standing on unsteady legs, Cody starts shaking violently from shock. Another coughing fit bends him over sending him crashing back to his knees.

  His lungs feel on fire—a burning sensation threatening to tear a hole in his chest as he struggles for breath.

  A knock sounds on his door. “Are you okay sweetheart?”

  I can’t let my mom see me like this. With effort he clears his throat and head replying on his way to the bathroom, “I’m fine.”

  Falling against the doorframe he starts coughing violently again. The force of the coughs doubles him over as he stumbles onto the linoleum floor of his bathroom.

  Back in his
room the knocking increases.

  Slamming the bathroom door shut he stares at the mirror. His hair is matted, his eyes are red-rimmed and teary, and perspiration has broken out across his forehead. He looks like the walking dead and feels not much better.

  Gripping the sink in his hands he can feel his strength fading. Another coughing spasm sends him sprawling sideways to the cold floor.

  As darkness floods across his eyes he hears a door opening…footsteps running…a keening wail…then nothing at all.

  Running the swab along the damp earth, Lynne Bosworth carefully seals the sample inside a vial and places it with the rest of them.

  Artificial light from several lamps illuminates the cave where she’s working—the cave where Markov was found.

  Somewhere above her in another network of caves Danny Gordon is collecting samples as well. Reaching into her kit she removes a plastic container and proceeds to collect some water for testing. Somewhere in the mass of samples that are being collected she hopes to find evidence of plague bacteria. If she does it would go a long way towards marking this sight as the foci of infection. And if she doesn’t…well, she’d rather not jump to conclusions.

  “Hey Lynne, you in here?”

  The sound of Danny’s voice echoing off the stone walls startles her. Turning around she sees the thin beam of a flashlight crawling across the wall of the cave. A moment later Danny seems to appear from nowhere—entering around a sharp corner with a sample kit in tow.

  “You finished here yet?”

  Securing her last water sample, Lynne answers “Just about. How did you make out?”

  “Got all the samples you requested, don’t know how helpful they’ll be though.”

  “That,” Lynne says with a flourish “Is for the lab to determine.” Peeling off her latex gloves she looks at him saying, “I think we’ve got enough for now.”

  “Do you think we found anything?”

  Thinking about the question for a minute while she gathers up her samples Lynne answers, “I think it’s a distinct possibility. Yersinia Pestis would certainly love this environment—dark with no sunlight to kill it. Plus there are plenty of rodents around for it to infect.”