Under a Graveyard Sky

CHAPTER 5

Nate Dolan, BS, Microbiology, 25 years of age, five foot four in his stocking feet and world-class biology geek with a nearly complete collection of The Amazing Spiderman series to prove it, was regretting more and more his choice of jobs to put himself through grad school. Intergen had been a great place to work. Even if part time and he had to spend most of his time in a moon suit.

Now he had beady eyed FBI agents pouring over his every movement for the last three days while simultaneously expecting him to “help out” for less than half what he got paid at Intergen. In a moon suit, of course.

LAX wasn’t, quite, shut down. But since it was suspected as one of the main sources of the Pacific Flu it had been shut down and might get shut down again. Especially if they couldn’t find the source. And, frankly, anybody had to be an idiot to just go wandering the airport in open when all the “official” people were either keeping their distance or in moon suits.

The powers-that-be were sure at this point that H7D3 was a man-made virus, really cool one for that matter, and that there had to be a mechanical spread mechanism. The technical term for that turned out to be “attack vector.” Nate had learned that when he was getting in-briefed on the search. Which should have showed these bad-suit wearing clowns he hadn’t done it! But until they could find traces of H7 in the environment, which was sort of tough, they were stymied to find the attack vector.

They’d had all sorts of false positives. The antibody swabs they were using were a sort of general “flu” test. They pinged as soon as they hit anything that looked anything like influenza. Which turned out to be half the organic chemicals on earth. Up until today they’d had to send them all back to various labs to be tested.

Today they had, finally, delivered a more precisely tuned antibody test. You still used the strips for initial test but a field re-test was now possible. Drop the strip in a test-tube, squirt in magic antibody fluid and wait for results.

“I’ve got another,” Luiz Lopez said, holding up a strip. Sure enough it was bright red.

He’d been swabbing the inside of one of the stalls. The good news was that anything in there was kept out by the moon suit. The bad news was that about half their false positives came from in the stalls. There was everything in those stalls. It was tough to be a germophobe and work in biology. This job was making him a germophobe. He certainly didn’t ever want to have to use a public restroom again.

“And we have a…” Nate said, shaking the test-tube. The liquid was red as blood. “Positive? Seriously?”

“Did we get a sample to cross-test?” Luiz asked.

“You think they’re going to hand me F7?” Nate said, looking in the stall. There wasn’t much graffiti. The problem with the stalls was that they were, yeah, cesspits on one level but they were also cleaned regularly. They just weren’t cleaned well. So most of the trace evidence, including any H7 should have been removed or degraded by the environment. Even if there had been some sort of vector there a couple of weeks ago, the F7 should have been cleaned away or basically broken down from heat and humidity. And there wasn’t any sort of aerosol canister. That had been the first check. “I’d be too likely to slip it to our ‘handlers.’”

“Don’t even joke,” Luiz said. He was from Argentina working, like Nate, on his masters at UCLA. “You they’d at least give some rights. They even suspect it’s me and I’m on a plane to Guantanamo.”

“Where’d this come from?” Nate asked, looking around the stall.

“Walls and door,” Luiz said.

If there was F7 in the stall something had put it there. Recently. It had clearly been recently scrubbed. Two more tests showed that the walls, door and even floor were contaminated. According to the swab and tube.

What there was was a deodorizer on the door. A round, green, deodorizer with the motto: “Save the Planet. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. SaveThePlanet.org” stamped into the plastic.

He’d swabbed those before. They were the first thing he’d hit the first stall he’d seen. And gotten back that the material in the deodorizer was giving a false positive. Which just might have been a false negative. If the carrier had enough chemical similarities to the protein coat of the virus it could be construed as a false positive depending on the test. If the evaporative coating was still coating the virus as one example.

He reached out, carefully, and cracked open the deodorizer.

“I want you to, personally, run this back to Dr. Karza,” Nate said, using a scupula to pull out some of the beigish substance in the deodorizer. “Tell him I suggest he run it through the portable SEM…”

* * *

“Why didn’t you identify that immediately?” the FBI Supervisory Special Agent asked. “Those canisters had been tested, right? I mean, they were obvious…”

“Because microbiology isn’t as easy as POINTING A GUN AT SOMEONE!” Dr. Azim Karza shouted, his eyes glued to the SEM screen.

“There’s no need to get…” the agent said, then coughed and sniffed. “Oh…shit…”

“GET THE HELL OUT OF MY LABORATORY!” Dr. Karza said. As the agent left he gave himself a quick blood test, then sighed in relief. Still no trace of H7D3. He’d seen the special agent using poor transmission protocols but was forced to work with him in close quarters. Which meant that the agent’s sniffles were something other than H7D3. Karza could have cleared that up for him with the same sort of test. But let the myrmidon bastard sweat it for a while.

“Cune.”

* * *

“FBI sources have found the source of the Pacific Flu virus. Anyone observing green deodorizers imprinted with the words ‘Save The Planet’ in public places should avoid them and immediately report their location to their local police or the FBI tipline…”

* * *

“The evaporative material was giving a false negative reaction to the antibody tests,” Dr. Dobson said, wearily. “We’d checked the deodorizers and given them a pass. Yesterday. Then when we got the new antibody strips one of the techs realized that there had to be a continuous source. Looking at the material under SEM…” He gestured to the image and shrugged. “I don’t know if that was part of the culprit’s plan but it was effective. They’ve now identified them in over sixty locations. At least one per bathroom mostly stretching up and down the West Coast…”

“So this was an eco-terrorist attack?” Dr. Xiu Bao asked. The current representative from the Chinese Ministry of Health was clearly convinced on the subject. If for no other reason than the Chinese government was already using the assumption to crack down on their environmental activists.

“The FBI isn’t really commenting but it’s possible,” Dr. Dobson said. “On the other hand, if you just wanted the finger pointed at eco-terrorists it would be a simple way to do it. Honestly, Doctor, I just hope nobody points out that the canisters were made in China…”

“We assuredly did not have anything to do with this…”

“I know that,” Dobson said. “Everyone with any sense knows that. It doesn’t mean it’s not going to get pointed out by idiots…”

* * *

“This was NOT eco-terrorism,” the Greenpeace spokesperson insisted. “No decent environmentalist is going to do something like this! And even if one was so insane as to infect humanity with a deadly plague they wouldn’t have used a nonrecyclable container! And might I point out, the canisters were made in China! One of the greatest eco-terrorists on the planet!”

“Whoa,” O’Riley said. “Whoa! Whoa! So is most stuff these days. Pointing a finger at the Chinese government is premature to say the least…”

“I didn’t say the…”

“Out of time. Next on the O’Riley factor…”

“If there is a next time,” Dr. Curry said, shaking the popcorn bag to get at the bits in the bottom. The laboratory he’d been handed by BotA was nicely complete but at the moment he was mostly using the microwave. Mr. “Smith” had looked at him oddly when he’d requisitioned six hundred cases of microwave popcorn. But he figured that even if they lost power BotA had generators. With water, decon showers and enough popcorn he was good till doomsday. Or till they totally lost power. “I love a front row seat to the apocalypse.”

* * *

“You all know what the big issue is right now,” Lieutenant Simmons said. “Fortunately, other crimes are down. However, we’re starting to get heavy traffic…”

“Rats fleeing the ship,” Patterno said.

“People are scared,” Simmons said, shrugging. “The TV’s staying away from the Z word but it’s all over the internet. That and it being a real and really big bioterror attack has people worried. We just work the problem. Some of the people in traffic are going to neurological stage while driving. Night shift had a lot of accidents. Every reserve officer who’s responding has been called in…”

Young tuned the brief out. He was still pending a shoot review. There had been a few words at first but by the end of his shift so many officers had had to use their weapons that they didn’t even take his in for the investigation. So far he’d had to shoot three “afflicted” to wound and two more to kill. They were still being ordered to “subdue and restrain” but there were more and more ten sixty-four hotels every shift. And subduing them took two officers at a minimum. Then there was the at least two hours of paperwork per ten sixty-four…

“For calls on this subject, the term ‘ten sixty-four hotel’ has been added to the callsign list,” Simmons said, getting to the main point. “The count was forty-six ten sixty-four hotels overnight.”

“Forty-six?” Patterno said. “We’ve only got forty officers! One ten sixty-four with transport and paperwork takes…”

“Which is why the Chief has authorized abbreviated paperwork,” Simmons said, holding up a pile of forms. “Just let me finish, Joe. These are ten sixty-four, suspected afflicted with neurological stage Hotel Seven virus forms. Try to get a solid ID, transport and fill out the form. No matter the eventual disposition the DA with concurrence of governor pending change in actual law has stated that nobody is going to try to try any of these people. And…the hospital is overloaded. All the hospitals are overloaded. Transport of all ten sixty-four hotels is now to 127 Curb Court, Warehouse Seven…”

“Warehouse district?” Young said, looking up finally.

“They’re maintaining them there pending some more appropriate facility…” Young said. “Just… Try to get a solid ID, secure and transport. Don’t call an ambulance unless you have a seriously injured civilian that absolutely requires ambulance transport. Ambulances are overloaded with injured and there’s a shortage of ambulance crews… There have now been confirmed locations of the attack vector device on the East Coast. FBI is saying they may have been in place for as much as a week. One was found right here in Williamsburg…”

“Oh, holy shit…” Young said, shaking his head. He had called his parents and brother. They were all staying inside and basically skipping work.

“The one bright spot is that CDC is now saying that ten sixty-fours may, again may, not be airborne infectious,” Simmons continued. “The downside is that they are infectious through the blood pathogen and the blood pathogen is extremely aggressive. If you are exposed to the blood pathogen, either due to bleeding from the subject or due to…blood spray, decontaminate immediately. We’re issuing a decon kit per car. We have them onhand thank God.”

“Don’t let them bite you,” Patterno said. “Don’t.”

“Young, that came from you first. I never got the story?”

“I was responding to a ten thirty-seven yesterday,” Young said. It seemed like ten years ago. “Family loading a sailboat. They were using a dock on one of those foreclosure properties over in Hunter Creek. Loading it for a long trip and they admitted to having a large quantity of weapons in their vehicle. The male subject knew about the upcoming announcement from the CDC. This was just a bit before noon. He stated that I should avoid the blood pathogen as well. Right after that things started to, well, degrade. It was one of the reasons for my decision to act with lethal force in the encounter that day. I swear to God I wasn’t going rogue…something something killer. It was just I was dealing with two ten sixty-fours…”

“Don’t…” Simmons said, grimacing. “It’s not up for discussion right now. I can’t comment on the shoot. On that subject, though, our rules of engagement remain unchanged. Use minimum force necessary to subdue the ten sixty-fours. Given our new understanding of the situation… The specific wording that I was given is ‘use minimum force necessary consonant with a full understanding of the threat and nature of threat to protect self and others with a high priority to ensure safe processing of the presumed H7D3 afflicted subject.’ Try to remember however these people are acting they are people. People sick with a God damned disease. This isn’t they’re fault…”

“In a lot of ways it would be easier if they were walking dead,” Patterno said, shrugging.

“Let’s try to stay away from that meme if we can,” Simmons said.

“Think I wanted to double tap some poor guy who was just sick?” Young asked, shaking his head.

“You’re not the only one, man,” Rickles pointed out.

“We’re recommending that all officers dealing with ten sixty-fours in general use rain gear for the time being until there’s a better fix,” Simmons said, nodding.

“That’s going to be hot as shit,” Young said.

“Fortunately, it looks to be a cool day,” Lieutenant Simmons said.

“For who?” Patterno replied with a snort.

* * *

“If it wasn’t for the reason, I’d be really enjoying this,” Steve said, glancing over at Stacey.

The wind was kicking up white caps on the choppy waters of the Chesapeake bay and the Hunter was heeled over at a thirty degree angle as it plowed north towards the Baltimore Canal. Steve was being careful to steer well clear of the main shipping channel to the east so they had a clear view of the shoreline to the west. So far there was no real evidence of societal breakdown. Which was boding well for his decision to make for the canal.

“I could wish for better weather,” Stacey said, pulling her windbreaker tighter. “Warmer at least.”

“This is good weather,” Steve said. The wind that had followed the cold front was cool, but it was constant and that was good. “And it’s giving us a chance to get our sea legs without it being too rough.”

“Always the optimist,” Stacey said, tightly.

“Worried,” Steve said without looking at her.

“Aren’t you?” she said, gesturing with her chin to the cabin. The girls could be heard engaged in their more or less continuous low-grade argument. “Is one of us infected already? What do we do about it?”

“Tie ourselves up,” Steve said.

“I think we’re going to have to forego that for a while, honey,” Stacey said, blushing slightly.

“Think with other bits, dear,” Steve said, smiling. “I don’t really like thinking of it in terms of ourselves. So I think what other people should do. No plague is one hundred percent effective. The black plague did, admittedly, wipe out whole families and villages. But it had a lot of help. It’s unlikely that even if we’re infected, all of us will go…to fully neurological conditions. So from now on when we’re not actively engaged in something, we’ll secure ourselves, lightly, with rope. If one of us starts to have neurological effects, the others will work to secure them until we can find an antidote or something.”

“Or something,” Stacey said, frowning.

“I have various smart women around me,” Steve said, shrugging. “We’ll figure something out. But only if we can keep from biting each other.”

“Well,” Stacey said, snuggling closer. “Maybe a little nibble.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “Have you been a good girl? Do you deserve a nibble?”

“I’ve been a very bad girl,” Stacey whispered in his ear. “So I definitely deserve a nibble…”

“Oh, my God,” Faith said, grimacing. She’d suddenly appeared in the hatchway to the saloon. “That is sooo gross!”

“So much for a little alone time,” Steve said, shaking his head. “What’s up?”

“What are we going to do about dinner?” Faith asked.

“You know where the food is,” Steve said.

“So we’re going to have to cook in this?” Faith said.

“We’re sure as hell not ordering pizza,” Stacey said. “Should we break into the Mountain House?”

“Better than trying to cook a regular meal when we can barely stand up,” Steve said, grinning. “Think you can figure out how to boil water?”

“In this?” Faith said. “No way! It’s storming!”

“This is not a storm,” Steve said. “Given the plan, at some point you’ll understand what the word ‘storm’ means in a forty-five foot sailboat. This isn’t even a gale.”

“I can do it,” Sophia said. “I think.”

“No,” Steve said. “Stace, take the wheel. I’m going to have to give your daughters a class on boiling water and working with boiling water in light chop conditions.”

“Try not to kill yourself or catch the boat on fire,” Stacey said.

“Thank you for that vote of confidence, first mate.”

* * *

“The reason that it is both airborne and blood pathogen now becomes clear…” Dr. Bao said. “Researchers at University of Hong Kong have pieced out its genetic and proteinomic code. The influenza virus produces two separate and distinct ‘child’ viruses. One is a copy of the H7D3 influenza. The second is a highly modified version of the rabies virus…”

“Two viruses in one?” Dr. Curry said, leaning forward and setting down his popcorn bag. “What the hell?”

* * *

“Oh… Oh… Oh… Oh, no… No…”

Tim Shull had been following “the synbio version of Chernobyl” in real time, monitoring multiple different sources. Tim could because he really didn’t have anything better to do. After dropping out of his master’s program after that stupid argument with Dr. Wirta he’d moved back home. And since Starbucks cut back on his time he could spend most of the day scanning the various synbio boards, news and blogs. It was the virtual version of watching a train wreck in slow motion. And whether the world ended or not, it was going to wreck the amateur synbio industry.

Synbio was short for synthetic biology, the creation of new or modified organisms. The “mundane” term was genetic engineering. It was a field at which Tim was a sort of “internet only” recognized expert. He’d been on the fast track to working in the professional field when he’d had a falling out with his master’s advisor and quit. Subsequent to that he’d continued his work, literally, in his mother’s basement until a breakthrough last year that if he’d done it as a master’s thesis would have made him a shoe-in for prizes, maybe even a Nobel, and a guaranteed PhD track. Since he’d done it on his own time in a basement the “awards” were few and far between. So all he’d done was put up a video and blog explaining the breakthrough and become a minor celebrity in the amateur synbio community. Although there had been some applications breakthroughs in basement synbio, his was really the first theoretical breakthrough. Which meant he had the largest number of followers on Twitter of a amateur synbio “pioneer” and his words were, on amateur synbio boards, given much the same weight as professionals.

Unfortunately, his “breakthrough” was how to get a virus to express two different organisms from a single virus. And he’d put it up as a YouTube video…

“I am soooo screwed…”

There was a thunderous crash from upstairs and he heard his mother screaming…

“DOWN! DOWN! DOWN! FBI SERVING A VALID SEARCH WARRANT…!”

He looked around but there was nowhere to run in a basement.

* * *

“The creator of the Pacific Flu virus has been identified as twenty-four-year-old Timothy Shull, a drop-out from the Stanford microbiology master’s program…”

CHAPTER 6

“I didn’t create the virus!” Tim said. The room was windowless and since he’d been transported with a bag over his head he wasn’t even sure where he was. And good luck with getting a lawyer. The ride had also made him puke all over his lap and shoes. Which wasn’t adding to his day. “All I did was prove it was possible to express two different…”

“All we want is the vaccine, kid,” the FBI agent said, calmly.

“I DIDN’T MAKE THE VIRUS!” Tim screamed. “If I had the VACCINE I’d have VACCINATED myself! And my mom!”

“You’ve got all the materials in your basement, son,” the agent said, still calmly. It wasn’t like the geek could get violent chained to a chair. “So just explain how to make the vaccine…”

“AAAAAGH!”

* * *

“There is no RNA or DNA related to the pathogen in this material,” Dr. Karza said, shrugging. His team had run every stored micro-organism in the suspect’s lab in world-record time. There was lots of other”stuff’ but exactly zero was pathogenic. “Fascinating breakthrough. Brilliant. Really brilliant. But it has nothing except background science to do with the actual pathogen.”

“You didn’t get it right the last time,” Agent Shornauer said. “Why do we trust you this time?”

“You want to figure it out, tough guy? Bottomline, except for pure scientific aspects, this is a dead-end.”

“We’ll determine that…”

* * *

The FBI Director looked at the report and grimaced. According to not only the CDC point people but FBI labs there was zero evidence that this Shull kid had any background, contact or access to the Pacific Flu. There was lots on his computers, not to mention his blog, the YouTube videos, which he’d actually found really useful explaining how this bug worked, about “dual expressionism.” What there wasn’t was a scrap of the actual bug or any references to it. All the kid had worked with was “non human-pathogenic” materials. Mostly something called “colliphage lambda” whatever the hell that was. There was less evidence of H7D3 in the Shull home than in, say, the front lobby of the J. Edgar Hoover building. Which another report had just noted was lousy with the stuff.

He decided to let the Attorney General and the Bureau’s lawyers worry about it…

“There are still conditions under which he could be a questionable actor,” he typed into the memo. “Change his status to material witness and give him to the CDC. Keep somebody on him and don’t let him slip away…”

* * *

“My client is only ‘guilty’ of an extremely important scientific breakthrough…”

Dr. Curry thought you really had to love the caption: “Pacific Flu Killer’s attorney.” They didn’t even have the poor attorney’s name displayed.

“The FBI has shown no proof that my client had any part in creating the flu…”

Which from everything Curry was scanning, which was probably more than the attorney was being given access to, was true. Or at least the only part the kid had played was breakthrough syn-bio. Which meant he was going to have a fun time convincing the DOJ he wasn’t guilty. Assuming the world didn’t come apart entirely, the upside was that he’d be able to sue the crap out of the Federal Government and get more scholarships than you could shake a stick at.

Right now that didn’t look likely.

“And I’ll remind the media of the FBI’s record in high profile cases. Richard Jewel, a hero who was arrested and immediately publicly condemned. Dr. Steven Hatfill a researcher assisting the FBI who was publicly charged in the Anthrax case…”

“Great way to make friends there…”

* * *

“Shull isn’t your culprit,” Dr. Dobson said, wearily.

“We’re still trying to determine his part in this,” the FBI deputy director for terrorism replied.

“His part was to create one of the necessary technological conditions,” Dobson said, as patiently as he could. “That’s it. He made a breakthrough. The same thing could be said for dozens of professional researchers. You might as well indict Alfred Nobel for every IED in Iraq. And I’d really prefer you didn’t lock them all up. We need them. As we need Shull. He’s the expert on dual expression. Nobody had even looked at it before he did. So, sure, keep him in custody but if you don’t put him on a plane to Atlanta by the end of the day I’ll let you explain it to the news media and the President. And I want my people talking to him within the hour. He didn’t make the virus but he understands it in a way we don’t…”

* * *

“The Department of Education has mandated a total shutdown of all public and private schools starting Monday…”

“Schools out for summer…” Dr. Curry crooned, looking at the latest spread graphs. Only Sunday and they’d gone from dots on the West Coast to spreading red in every reporting zone across the globe. And the “Save the Planet” deodorizers had been found in dozens of public locations stretching up and down the eastern and western seaboards. Somebody had been a busy little beaver. “Schools out for ever…”

* * *

“Okay, first of all…” Dr. Karza said, shaking his head at the scene in the interrogation room. “Get him out of the cuffs.”

“Doctor…”

“Just get him out of the cuffs you dick-brained myrmidon!” Karza snarled. “He’s not going to be able to think if he thinks he’s on his way to Gitmo and WE NEED HIS BRAIN!”

He waited until the agent had released Shull and left.

“Idiots,” Karza said, shaking his head again. “I mean, not actual idiots. They’re smart. They just aren’t bio smart. And that scares them. And I didn’t literally mean we need your brain, just in case you were wondering…”

“I didn’t make the virus,” Tim said, rubbing his wrists. “Please, I really didn’t! I’m worried about catching it!”

“I know,” Karza said, nodding. “My lab processed the hell out of yours. There were zero pathogens in your lab and I’m pretty sure from the looks you hardly ever went out. And eventually they’ll figure the same thing out.”

“I really don’t,” Tim said, hunching up. “Not since I left school.”

“Sorry about the master’s thing,” Karza said, shrugging. “I know Dr. Wirta. He’s a dick and not nearly as important as he thinks he is in the field. I’m Dr. Azim Karza from the CDC, by the way. And while I’ll admit you have more problems than I do, try being the lead investigator on a bio terror attack while being Islamic, born in Iran and with a name like Azim Karza.”

“I can imagine,” Tim said, chuckling and sniffling at the same time.

“Your mom is fine, sort of,” Karza said. “She’s been released and she’s gotten you a lawyer. Who for all sorts of Patriot Act reasons isn’t going to be able to help you any time soon. On the other hand, CDC is on your side. We get how the DOJ reacts in these sorts of things. They think about the perp walk and calming the public because just because you have the culprit the plague is going to stop all by itself! We react differently. Which is why I’m here. We’re going to be moving you to Atlanta pretty soon. Not the Pen, to CDC. FBI and DoJ are still going to be going apeshit and asking all sorts of questions you can’t answer. That’s because they don’t know which questions to ask.

“We know you don’t know how to make a vaccine or a ‘cure’ as the FBI keeps insisting. They’ve been watching too many movies. ‘What’s the cure?’ They don’t like ‘There isn’t one, even theoretically.’ But what we need is your knowledge of dual expression. So what we’d like you to do is go with the flow for the time being. You’re under arrest but as of this point you’re also one of our research associates. Until DOJ can get over ‘he had to have made the virus’ they’ll probably insist on treating you like a criminal. Let them. Cooperate with them. Be polite. Keep your head down. If we, that meaning the CDC, can possibly get one of our people along the whole time we will. And he or she will be there to both pick your brain and keep the Fibbies from getting berserk. Let your lawyer work on getting you out and work with us on finding a vaccine. Deal? At the very least it’s going to make their argument that you must have done it because you can a little weaker. The term is ‘cooperation.’ Goes loads with judges.”

“Absolutely,” Tim said, nodding vigorously. “I mean, a chance to work with the CDC on this is like a dream come true. I really really want to help!”

“Good,” Karza said. “Good. Now: how in the hell did you get a DNA virus to express an RNA virus? That right there was effing brilliant…”

* * *

“These are all the points to two hours ago where the canisters have been reported,” the agent said, pointing to a dot-filled map. “The red dots are where they are presently and have been verified by removal teams or local police. The yellow dots are reports from owners or managers where they were reported to have been seen and removed prior to determining the spread method.”

“That’s…” the President said, looking at the map. “There’s a line…”

“The unsub appears to have worked down the West Coast to Los Angeles,” the Attorney General said, working from notes. “Then Interstate Ten to its joining with I-20. From there the unsub continued to I-95. Indications are that the unsub then went north through the Washington, New York, Boston corridor, then down again into Florida. The indications are that it was one unsub or unsub team. If there were more they would have been expected to spread out. This is definitely a single movement. Because the pathogen was initially…” he consulted his notes for a moment. “Because it was asymptomatic at first, there was no indications for some time this was a bioweapons attack. Current estimates are that the unsub could have completed most of this spread within the period prior to the neurological symptoms outbreak.”

“Any idea who he or she or they are?” the President asked.

“We have a number of working suspects, Mr. President…”

“So do we,” the Director of National Intelligence said. “Al Qaeda being at the top of the list…”

“That’s an absolutely unfounded attack, Director,” the Secretary of State said.

“Oh? Really? Shall I count the ways…?”

* * *

“Welcome to the Centers for Disease Control, Mr. Shull,” Dr. Dobson said.

Shull started to hold out his hand, then pulled it back.

“Nothing against you,” Dr. Dobson said, hastily.

“No, sir, Doctor,” Shull said, just as quickly. “I…I guess I’m having a bad protocol day.”

“We’re having a more or less ongoing teleconference this way,” Dobson said, gesturing for the former master’s candidate to precede him. “I’d like to say… Not sure where to start. First of all, your dualistic expression is an amazing breakthrough, especially with limited resources…”

“My dad had a lot of insurance,” Tim said, shrugging uncomfortably. “After… Stanford I just sort of… I guess I got obsessed. And I was right. You can get a dualistic expression!” He paused as he remembered what his breakthrough had been used for. “Is this how Oppenheimer felt after Hiroshima?”

“Probably,” Dr. Dobson said, nodding sympathetically. “Through here…”

* * *

“Mr. Shull has yet to be fully exonerated by the DOJ,” Dr. Dobson said. “But the CDC is satisfied that while he may have discovered a method of dualistic expression that he did not develop the H7D3 virus. He is, however, the only one that knows anything about dualistic expression. Dr. Addis?”

“Pasteur…”

“Mr. Shull, from what we have gleaned from your videos the expression is two fully separate viruses. To be clear, the secondary virus is also able to replicate?”

“Yes, D… Doctor…” Tim said nervously. “It of course depends on what you want to replicate as the secondary expression. But a secondary expression can be a replicable organism. My initial experiments were with a nonreplicating secondary expression but… Yes, Doctor.”

“Pass…”

“Hong Kong…”

“Mr. Shull, as with these others I’d like to add my congratulations on your breakthrough,” Dr. Bao said. “However it has been used. The question is whether in your opinion a vaccine against the secondary expression alone would work?”

“I believe so, Doctor,” Tim said, his brow furrowing in thought. “There is no reason that it should not. I…I was following the progress of the information about the pathogen before the dualism was identified. And I’d like to congratulate you, as well, Doctor. I read the draft paper before… Before… Very brilliant. Just really… Uh… The thing is that even before that I was…wonder… More like worrying that it was a dualistic pathogen. The…change in effect was what I would have expected to see with a dualistic pathogen. And…and…the period of fever after the primary pathogen has effectively run its course… That’s signs of a dualistic. And the secondary pathogen has to then spread in the…the host… So a vaccine targeted against the secondary expression… Yes, yes, it should work…”

“We’ve already started experiments with the Pasteur method here at CDC,” Dr. Dobson said. “The problem is the question of if it’s affecting the primary pathogen.”

“…Standard influenza vaccine would not affect the blood pathogen…”

“…a secondary will not affect the primary…”

“Doctors,” Dr. Addis cut in. “Stockholm…”

“The primary threat is the secondary expression,” Dr. Svengar pointed out. “The influenza is a bad influenza, yes. At least at the level of swine flu. But it is not an apocalypse. The blood pathogen package should be the primary target especially given the fact that at least twenty five percent of all infections are blood pathogen related.”

“CDC…”

“Concur with Dr. Svengar,” Dobson said. “If the neurological secondary packet can be stopped, even after airborne infection, we only really need a viable neuro vaccine and efforts to produce such should concentrate there.”

“Pasteur…”

“While we appreciate the use of our namesake’s name in this vaccine development,” Dr. Phillipe Jardin said drily, “there is one problem remaining. Several, in fact. Spread on this is…enormous. At least the airborne packet. It is all over the world at this point and well established. We have produced a vaccine using the namesake method and have vaccinated specimens. And they do have antibody response against the secondary packet. However, we have also determined that it requires a dual stage injection, primer and booster.”

“Confirm,” Dr. Dobson said. “We’re that far as well. A single strong injection caused several specimens to develop the neurological condition almost immediately.”

“As did ours,” Jardin said, nodding.

“Here as well,” Hong Kong confirmed.

“Which means that we now have to wait,” Phillipe said. “While the infection spreads and the blood pathogen overtakes airborne as the most common method of transfer. Until the specimens cook, we really don’t know if the vaccine will work at all. And even assuming it’s of use, vaccines take time to produce.”

“The Pasteur method is the simplest production method in the world,” Dr. Svengar pointed out.

“Ah, and that is the second problem,” Jardin said. “We have tried infecting various organisms with the blood pathogen. The only organisms that will host it are higher order primates.”

“We had noted that as well…” Dobson said, grimacing.

“This is very bad,” Dr. Bao said, quietly. “That is… A great misfortune.”

“Potassium…!” Tim blurted.

“Excuse me?” Dr. Dobson said, looking at the younger man and hitting the button for priority.

“Potassium transfer!” Shull said, excitedly. “I… I didn’t have a lot of lab materials to work with and I was using a medium high in potassium at first. Even though I knew I was on the right track I couldn’t get a dual expression. I ran out of the high potassium medium and had to change to a…a cheaper one. That one I could get dual expression! I realized later that dual expression is inhibited by potassium! I never thought to mention it in… I think you can… We might be able to reduce the likelihood of dualistic expression… Maybe. I mean…”

“It’s something to try,” Dr. Dobson said, nodding. “Thank you, young man.”

“Anything,” Tim said, his face working. “I mean… This really… I’m sorry, Doctors, but I have to say it, this pisses me OFF. I feel like I’ve been raped. You know?”

“We’ll begin immediate experiments on potassium inhibition,” Dr. Svengar said. “As well as continuing work on vaccines. And, yes, to have your life’s great work used in this way… You have my sympathies, young man.”

“I think we all feel a bit raped by this,” Dr. Addis said.

* * *

“Progression of secondary expression is reduced by potassium,” Dr. Karza said, looking at the printout.

“So it helps?” Shull asked, looking at the paper over the doctor’s shoulder.

“Unfortunately, only in a test tube,” Karza said with a sigh. “The levels of potassium that stop expression in a human would be terminal. However, it slows expression at lower levels. That is useable.”

“This organism is much more complex than just a dual expressor,” Shull said, looking at the reports from groups studying the “zombie virus” all over the world. Different groups had taken different parts of the virus to study and the total take was being analyzed by CDC, Pasteur and a series of other teams in various countries. “It only has 30 % rabies RNA in the secondary expressor virus. Has anyone looked at, well, other people who are sort of off the radar map working on this sort of stuff?”

“What do you mean?” Dr. Karza asked.

“Whoever did this stole my process,” Shull said, frowning. “Has anyone done any digging in the amateur field to see if any of this stuff is from their work?”

“You jumped out as a dual expressor pioneer,” Karza said, thoughtfully. “Do you have an example?”

“This,” Shull said, pulling out a report and pointing to a series of gene sequences. “This looks a lot like Jaime Fondor’s work. She’s working on plant resistance and works with clavaviridae. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her use similar sequences. It would help if I could shoot this over to her. She may know something useful.”

“How do you recognize it?”

For a change the FBI agent assigned had been just quietly staying out the way and not looming menacingly. Karza understood their passion for the case but their attitude really did not help the way that most bio geeks worked.

“I…” Shull said, looking up nervously.

“There are…signatures,” Karza said. “There are usually several ways to work out a genetic puzzle. In this case, I think what he’s saying is that this looks like this Miz Fondor’s signature.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim said, holding up his hands. “She’s not a suspect! Jaime would never do something like this!”

“But you’re saying that is her signature?” the agent said.

“No,” Karza said. “Or most likely not. It’s similar. Someone has been looking not only as professional synbio but also closely studying amateur synbio.”

“And that’s important,” the agent said, frowning. “Here’s the thing. You guys get bio. I don’t. Or barely, which is why I’m in this lab. What we get is investigation. What you’re saying is that the unsub has been monitoring information in the amateur synbio stream. That means they’re probably members of synbio boards. You have those, right?”

“Yes,” Tim said nervously.

“And you’re saying that there are signatures to this thing,” the agent said, getting animated. “We love signatures. If we can get an algorithm for the overall virus, then we can build a database to compare posted genes or whatever and look for similar signatures… If somebody has ever posted on one of those boards, we’ll find them.”

“The point being that he’s copying other people’s methods and signatures,” Dr. Karza pointed out. “Which means you’re going to be terrifying a lot of innocent people. Innocent people who don’t work well terrified.”

“We’ll contact this Miz Fondor,” the agent said. “Bring her in as a material witness. Nicely, okay?”

“Can you control that?” Karza said.

“Just let us handle it. We can be polite. In the meantime, yes. Shull, you’re familiar with these people’s work. Keep looking for signatures. The more ‘suppliers’ we have the better we can build a profile. What boards the unsub frequents. Whose methods he’s been copying. It would be good if we could build an algorithm for that. Is there anything like that already?”

“So you want me to burn the only friends I have in the world?” Tim said angrily. “You’re all ready to go bust down Jaime’s door and you want me to do that to how many people?”

“I’ll send up that these people are probably innocent of any wrong doing,” the agent said. “But, Tim, keep in mind. While you’re worrying about hurting your friends’ feelings, the world is going to hell in a handbasket.”

“Point,” Dr. Karza said. “Tim, do you have any personal contact information for Jaime Fondor…?”

* * *

“Dr. Curry,” Bateman said, drily. “Thank you so much for joining us…”

The “meeting” was taking place by video conference. At least in Curry’s case. The boardroom the rest were meeting in was five floors up and a few suites over from Curry’s lab. But since he’d been given it he hadn’t left. And he didn’t intend to any time soon.

“As you might have heard on the news, the kid who figured out dual expression has been ‘cooperating’ with the CDC,” Curry said. “I’ll take an agnostic position on whether he has anything to do, directly, with the virus. He’s being helpful, he was just in a video conference with the WHO and others and not only pointed out some helpful stuff but a possible… Call it an ameliorative. Not a cure but something that might help. Again, might. Thing is he’s a little too pat or I’m a little too cynical. Doesn’t matter. The first news, well ahead of the news as it were, is potassium may inhibit the secondary neurological packet’s expression. Sort of. Bottomline is we all might want to start taking potassium supplements. Which people can OD on by the way. Too much potassium will kill you as dead as too much. But as long as the dosage isn’t too high, I’d recommend them.”

“That’s good news,” Bateman said, looking at Tom.

“I’ll get that promulgated through our medical personnel,” Tom said, composing a note on his iPhone.

“Then we get to vaccine,” Dr. Curry said. “Turns out this is one hell of a virus. I’m not going to totally bio geek out but not only does it express two viruses with one packet, it expresses two viruses so different they’re night and day. Just to give you the short version: Influenza is a DNA virus. It has a full DNA packet and is a fairly complicated virus. The neurological, blood-pathogen, packet is an RNA virus. RNA is, sort of, half of a DNA strand. And RNA viruses are so different from DNA viruses there are some pretty good theories that they come from two entirely different evolutionary processes. They might as well be alien lifeforms to each other. And, somehow, the mad bastard who created this thing got both to express from a single pathogen. Brilliant. And very problematic for the vaccine.

“The CDC, Hong Kong and Pasteur have all produced detailed directions for their experimental vaccines. You don’t want them yet. They are really experimental. Like ‘trial and error’ experimental. With lots of error. They’ve already mapped out a vaccine for the airborne packet. But producing influenza vaccine is…complicated. And it takes time. And I can’t do it in this lab even if we had the design. What I can do, if it works out, is the blood pathogen vaccine. Once they work out the bugs.”

“What are the differences?” Bateman asked. “And what are the risks?”

“Well the risks right now are high,” Curry said, chuckling. “They had some of their lab rats catch the bug. Which is the ‘error’ part. But they’ll work it out. Then the real problems come. However…I’m going to have to explain how this vaccine is going to be made, in general. Cause I’m going to need some more equipment.”

“Which is?” Bateman asked. “I thought you had everything you needed?”

“I have everything you’d have in a regular laboratory,” Curry said, nodding. “For its size, even a well equipped one. What I don’t have is what you’d use to produce a vaccine. For that I’m going to have to lecture. Ahem… Vaccination One-Oh-One:

“Various ways of innoculating people against smallpox date back to ancient China and India. But the way they did it was pretty damned dangerous and was just as likely to give you the disease. There’s lots of bits in the middle but Edward Jenner figured out a way to use cowpox to vaccinate and that was what really started modern vaccine methods.

“It was Louis Pasteur that figured out that there were ways to ‘weaken’ pathogens, what’s called ‘attenuation’ and then use those weakened pathogens as a vaccine. The first one was a mistake with chicken cholera but it lead to all his other successful vaccines. The way he did it, exactly, isn’t important because it’s been superseded by other methods. Modern vaccines are produced in a number of ways. Very few of them use attenuation any more. But it’s still the fastest way to make vaccine. And they’re pretty sure that this pathogen can be prevented with an attenuation vaccine.”

“Why did they stop using it?” Bateman asked.

“Problems,” Dr. Curry said, waggling his hand from side to side. “Issues. Lawsuits. Immunology One-Oh-One. Your immune system’s a lot more complex than it’s explained in high school but the basics work for this. Antibodies identify pathogens and bind to them. That signals other immunobodies to attack and destroy them. However, the antibodies are originally produced because immune cells have detected that there are pathogens in the body. So you’ve got to be infected, first. And if you’ve got a good immune system and all’s well, you shake it off after a bit. If you don’t have a good immune system or the pathogen’s really nasty, well, you die.

“So…an attenuated vaccine is damaged bits of a pathogen. Just enough to tell the body ‘hey, you’ve got an infection! And it looks like this!’ without actually infecting you. The…issues are two-fold. More. The first is that if the vaccine isn’t strong enough your body doesn’t get a good enough look at the pathogen and when you do get hit with it you’re not really prepared. And then you die. Or, the vaccine is too strong, has too much of the pathogen left, and you get the disease and you die. Or you’re allergic to the materials in vaccine and you die. Or get really sick. Or there’s a scare story on TV. Or people blame their child’s autism on vaccines. Or…whatever. And in all those cases lawyers get involved and there’s a big lawsuit…”

“Which of those do we have to worry about?” Bateman asked.

“I dunno,” Curry said, shrugging. “Is Dr. Depene getting the vaccine? There’s a guy with so many risk factors, medical and psychological, the answer is all of them.”

“Thanks so much,” Depene said.

“If the recipe is right and I’m making the vaccine… There’s still a small risk that someone may get the disease instead of be protected from it. Half a percent? And to do it I need a radiation generator. That’s the big difference between Pasteur vaccines and modern attenuated. You can be much more precise in your attenuation, not to mention take less time, with irradiation…”

“Well no wonder nobody trusts it!” Depene said. “You’re not going to inject radioactive vaccine in me!”

“As I said,” Dr. Curry said, shaking his head. “Psychological risk factor, which, in and of itself, can cause hypocondriatic reactions. The vaccine isn’t radioactive, you dope. You shoot it with radiation which goes right through. It kills the RNA of the virus. There’s no residual radiation. What I’ll be using, to give you an example, is a dentist’s X-ray machine. Ever had your teeth X-rayed? One of the newer cesium source models is more or less vital. Which you’d better get your hands on fast or they’ll be all snatched up by the time you go shopping.”

“And this will work as a vaccine?” Bateman asked.

“Against the neurological packet,” Curry said, nodding. “It should. The other problem is that it’s going to take nearly two weeks to be close to ‘sure.’ Not ‘this is EPA approved and has been through all testing.’ Sure as in ‘This probably won’t kill you and probably will stop the disease.’ That’s the real problem. To get either one distributed will require all sorts of approvals. And then there’s…other problems. But once it’s through the most basic checks, I’ll start producing. And I’ll be the first one to take it, for what that’s worth to Dr. Depene. Oh, and it’s going to take a primer shot and a booster and you won’t really be covered until you’ve had the booster. And you can’t have the booster until a week after you’ve had the primer. So… We’re fighting the clock, the spread of the disease and the development and production of the vaccine. It’s going to be close. For us. For the world? I don’t give us a shot in hell.”

“Is there anything else critical?” Bateman asked.

“Not that you can’t get on the TV,” Curry said. “But you need to get that X-ray machine. And it will require some installation. Radiation shielding among other things. But that’s details I can go over with Mr. Smith. Until the vaccine is somewhat cleared, we’re in a holding pattern.”

“Very well,” Bateman said, nodding. “Thank you, again, for your assistance in this, Dr. Curry.”

“Just make sure the check clears,” Curry said, chuckling.

“Break this down,” Bateman said.