by Jay Vielle
“I just wanted it to be over. Done. It’s been so hard. Impossible between us. We just couldn’t make it work, Eddie. I tried. I tried everything I could think of. I couldn’t tell the boys. Everything we tried. It just didn’t work. And as crushed as I was when I thought she was dead—I was also relieved. I could breathe again. I could dream again. I could even…God, I feel so awful. I’m the worst fucking human being ever,” he said, gripping his wet face.
“No, you’re not. You’re just plain human. It’s natural to want things to be settled. Closure, everybody wants closure. Even if it means the ultimate closure. I understand that. And I know you could never say this to your sons. I see why you’ve kept it bottle up. I totally do. But it doesn’t make you awful. It makes you human,” I said.
“I even,” he started. “I even started to think,” he said. Then he shook his head no, and wouldn’t finish the sentence. I leaned in.
“You even allowed yourself to become attracted to someone else?” I asked softly. He jerked his head up and looked at me then, horrified.
“I’m not blind,” I said.
“Wendy?” he asked.
“Not blind either. I think she likes you,” I said.
“But the boys?” he started.
“Not totally blind either, but as weird as this sounds, they don’t know you like I do. You don’t let them in like that. You’ve closed them off with that wall you build. You know, the one with “I can handle anything by myself” painted on it? I think they just thought the most superficial of thoughts. I’m not even sure Vinny thought anything. Your secret’s safe, and you’re not a monster, do you hear me?”
He put his face back in his hands and shook his head.
“Hey, you’re human. You haven’t acted on any of this, and your thoughts are your own. We can’t control our thoughts. You gave everything you had to rescue a woman you’re no longer in love with,” I said. He stiffened at that phrase. “For just the chance to save her, the mother of your sons.”
He shook his head into his hands again.
“It’s the noblest fucking thing I think I’ve ever seen. And I know you won’t allow yourself to think that way. You’ll beat yourself up about this, and I can’t help that. But you need to compose yourself now. Get your shit straight. I know your inner thoughts now—and to be honest, I kinda thought this was in your head anyway. But you and I know you can’t—and won’t—act on any of it. You need to go back to being the tough coach, the stoic marine, for your family. Drink this goddamn Diet Coke. The machine out there doesn’t even require money, which would be really cool to show you under other circumstances.”
He looked up, forced a weak smile, took the Diet Coke from my hands, and mouthed an almost inaudible ‘thank you.’
“See you outside when you’re ready,” I said.
CHAPTER 19
Wendy Yubashiri and Colonel Raymond Cannnaveral walked into a medical room in the interior of the Pentagon. They were both dressed in HAZMAT suits, looking a little like astronauts as they approached the strange humanoid being lying strapped on the table before them. The mutate was a little under six feet tall, but his contorted features made it difficult to measure. His back was hunched like an ape. His head and face also had taken a strange, almost Neanderthal-ish shape to them. His shoulders hunched up, and his hands and wrists were curled like a gorilla’s. His full head of hair was as white as snow, and his skin was a bright burnt orange. Other than that, he looked human. He had regular clothes on, but the sleeves of his shirt had been torn off crudely and he lacked shoes or socks. The bottoms of his feet were blistered and filthy.
“The initial tests came back,” said the Colonel. “And this guy tested positive for Ebola. So apart from being a physical menace who tried to kill and eat people, he also is a carrier for one of the deadliest diseases on the planet.”
“Which is why we are dressed like Neil Armstrong,” said Wendy. “So this trial we’re running right now is actually testing several things. First, it’s testing whether or not REGN-EB3 works on these mutates and destroys the virus inside of them. Second, it’s testing whether its effects only remove the virus or also remedy any of the other visible aspects, like skin and hair color, diminished brain function, even the physical changes that make it look more ape-like.”
“That’s a lot of testing, and too many variables to really make a determination,” said the Colonel. “But we have to start somewhere.”
“Okay Ray,” said Wendy. “I’m going to administer the REGN-EB3 now via hypodermic needle. I am using the standard dosage for a human being of this size, age, and weight.”
“It only requires one dose?” said the Colonel.
“Yes,” said Wendy. “It’s essentially a cocktail of three antibodies, designed to target the virus at three different points,” she said. “Because Ebola is known to break out at several points.”
“And it doesn’t need to be frozen?” asked the Colonel.
“No, it’s stable enough to stand alone. Which is handy when you have to haul it down an African river by boat,” she said. “Or to give it to an orange mutated human you’ve tranquilized in a footrace at the National Mall.”
“And there’s an oral form?” said the Colonel.
“Yes, though trying to get this guy to take it might be problematic. Besides, the needle gets it into the bloodstream faster,” said Wendy. “Okay, here goes.”
She took the needle and jabbed it into the mutate’s arm. The creature flinched, but didn’t wake up.
“Now we wait,” said Wendy.
“How long?” said the Colonel.
“Hard to say,” said Wendy. “Hours? Days?”
“Makes it tough to tell that to the Fishers. They’re on pins and needles waiting to see if they have any hope with Laura,” said the Colonel.
“You know, Ray, I can’t help thinking that we’re leaving something out,” said Wendy.
“What’s that?” said the Colonel.
“Well, REGN-EB3 goes after the Ebola virus, which these things still have in their bodies,” she said.
“Right, so?” said the Colonel.
“But that just makes you sick, and kills you,” she said.
“Your point?” the Colonel asked.
“It doesn’t change your DNA,” said Wendy. “These things had things change at the sub-cellular level. You can’t have alterations like the ones we see here just with a disease. I mean, some diseases can be disfiguring, but they don’t change the structure of your face, your head, your hands, your back—not in that short a time.”
“I see your point,” said the Colonel.
“I just don’t understand that part of it,” she said. “What can fundamentally change DNA?”
“I know,” said the Colonel, suddenly brightening and straightening up. “Radiation can.”
“Radiation! Of course! And a new form of it was used by the Russians in their bombs to help administer the Ebola. The Brenerium. And what if the Brenerium reacts differently in different kinds of people? We’ve already seen that this mutate’s body can handle Ebola and be a carrier for it. But what if it was the Brenerium that prepared his body for it?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” the Colonel asked.
“I mean, what if this orange skin, white hair, and altered features are signs of the protective mechanism that keeps them from dying of Ebola?”
“Go on,” said the Colonel. “Run with this thought.”
“Well, Ebola itself doesn’t kill you. It makes your body unable to combat things. People die of hemorrhagic fever because their immune systems won’t let them handle the hemorrhaging that takes place. Their organs literally bleed to death. But what if Brenerium—in contact with these special case individuals—allows the system to combat it?”
“So what you’re saying is, you have to be orange and white in order to live through Ebola, and the Brenerium is what’s causing that in certain individuals?” the Colonel said.
“Well, yes, I guess that�
�s what I’m saying. Ebola or hemorrhagic fever—especially the kind that is accelerated with this type of radiation—kills just about everyone right away. But some people have systems that are more tolerant and defeat it. Whatever it is in those folks must react to Brenerium in a different way as well,” said Wendy.
“Well, not to be dismissive, but we knew that already. You and I figured that much out at Fort Detrick,” said the Colonel.
“Yes, but my thought is that if these people who became mutates received these two things simultaneously, then our best bet is to treat them simultaneously,” said Wendy. “And the only thing I’ve done is treat the Ebola.”
“Which means we are going to need a top-notch radiation exposure treatment,” said Ray.
“Which means we are going to need a top-notch radiation exposure treatment,” Wendy echoed. “Do you know of one, and can we get our hands on it?”
“Hmm,” said the Colonel, picking up his cell phone. “Let me think. If I’m not mistaken, the Israelis are on the cutting edge of this. They use placental expanded cells, that act kind of like stromal cells, that literally alter DNA. They use it for acute radiation sickness.” He scrolled through his phone, reading.
“Wait, how does that cell phone work?” said Wendy. “Everyone else’s is shoddy at best right now.”
“Afraid that’s classified, ma’am,” said the Colonel, grinning. “But lucky for me, that’s not a deterrent.
“Not a bad perk, you working here at the Pentagon,” she said.
“We didn’t live too poorly up at Detrick,” said the Colonel. “But yes, things get done here double time.”
“I’ll say,” Wendy replied. The Colonel fiddled with his cell phone for a moment, came upon some information, and slammed his hand down on the desk.
“I’ll be damned,” said the Colonel. “The Russians were using PLX-R18 as a prophylactic. They would treat people ahead of time with it as a way to reduce the effects of radiation on them. It’s still listed as being in experimental state, but I’d bet my pension they put it to use with this new Brenerium stuff.”
“So how do we get our hands on it if the Israelis and Russians have it?” asked Wendy. “Is there any here in the United States?”
“I’ve got to make a phone call,” said the Colonel. “And not with this cell phone. This one’s gotta be higher up. I may be a while. This is the part of government you’re familiar with. Red tape. Keep an eye on our friend.”
Wendy took periodic blood tests of the mutate. They had taken large samples of it to study for later, but she had access to everything right now. She took them every thirty minutes and tracked the level of virus antibodies forming in the blood stream. They were moving remarkably fast.
After two and a half hours, the virus had essentially been defeated and the mutate registered as negative for being an active carrier. But nothing else about him had changed. His skin was still orange, his hair still white, his body still bent and disformed. Wendy went back into the office outside of the lab room to look at some of the information laying on the desk regarding the mutate. She pulled her head covering and face mask piece off and set it on a stool near the desk. Then she did the same with her gloves and lay them on top of the head covering.
“Well, the good news is that the REGN-EB3 works in terms of making these creatures unable to infect people. Now how can we keep them from eating people?” she said aloud.
She picked up a massive pile from the desk. On top were X-rays of the creature. She studied them intently for about ten minutes. Then MRI results for another ten. Then she read reports on the creature’s bloodwork.
“Ray sure is taking a while on this, whatever this was,” she said.
Just then there was a knock on the hallway entrance door and Wendy swiveled in the desk chair. “Ray?” she asked as she spun.
“Nope. Sorry to disappoint,” said Jake. “Just me.”
“O, Mujina-San. O genki desuka?” Wendy asked in Japanese.
“Hai. Genki des,” said Jake. “I’m doing fine, Wendy-chan. But what is mujina-san?”
“Badger. It’s Japanese for badger,” she said. “You know, you, The Badger.”
“Umm, badger?” asked Jake.
“I’ve heard Eddie and Estela call you that. Except it was something in Spanish, I think. Eddie explained it to me.”
“Did he now?” asked Jake. “I heard him call me a fat old badger once on this trip, but I was unaware that I had secured an honest-to-God nickname.
“El Tay-hone, or something. I’m sure of it. He even told me why,” said Wendy.
“Okay, I’m game,” said Jake.
“Eddie said that you were fat, old, waddled when you walked, were graying at the temples, gluttonous, and even though you looked cuddly from a distance, up close you were just an asshole,” said Wendy giggling.
“Well. That’s actually quite perfect, isn’t it?” said Jake.
“He also added the part about Badgers not backing down from anything, regardless of how big it is, and how they are ferocious when riled,” she said.
“That’s a little more complimentary. I guess,” said Jake smiling. “And it sounds just like Eddie.”
“He says he got the idea from Estela. Something about what you did in a Wal-Mart?” Wendy said.
“Oh,” Jake said darkly. “That.”
“Did you engage someone in battle there?” asked Wendy.
“Yeah. A few someones, to be honest,” said Jake.
“Looks like you came out unscathed,” said Wendy.
“I wake up scathed every day,” said Jake. They both chuckled.
“Wendy, I want to get something off my chest,” he said.
“Okay. So do I, to be honest. Mind if I go first?” she asked. “After mine, you may want to re-think yours.”
“Okay,” Jake said warily. “I guess so. Go ahead, then. Ladies first.” Wendy got up and walked slowly closer to Jake. Jake stiffened a little and looked nervous. Wendy closed her eyes for a moment, nodded, then looked up.
“I know that you are in a difficult position, Jake Fisher,” she said.
“You do?” Jake said again nervously. “Yes,” she said. “I do. I had a long talk with Eddie at the Arboretum about you. He approached me. He told me about your previous situation with your wife. How things were going then. He told me you were on the phone when the bombs dropped, how you thought she’d died. Then we saw her on television and everything changed. You became a man driven.”
“Eddie. That little pendejo needs to mind his own business,” said Jake.
“He is minding his business. You are his business,” she said.
“Me?” Jake asked.
“Yes. Or haven’t you figured that out yet?” Wendy asked.
“What do you mean, I’m Eddie’s business?” Jake asked.
“Eddie is very protective of you. He values your friendship, and he worries about you,” she said.
“Well, yeah. Eddie’s a little neurotic,” Jake said. “I don’t need protection.”
“Of course you do. We all do. Guys like you need it most of all,” she said.
“Guys like me,” Jake started.
“Especially guys like you. Guys who want to be the hero, the good guy, the savior, the white knight. Guys who take responsibility for everyone’s safety, happiness, and well-being. You’re one of those guys who thrives on the gratitude and adulation of people. You’ll run twenty miles for a pat on the back and an ‘atta boy.”
“Wait a minute,” Jake said.
“Come on, don’t even try to deny it. And I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Have you ever taken a personality test?” she asked.
“Yeah. In the military. Myers-Briggs. I had to take the same when I got married. The military likes to see what kind of leadership style you have if you’re going to be an officer. Our preacher gave us several mandatory counseling sessions with that test as well. Why do you ask?” Jake said.
“Have you ever heard of an enneagram?” asked Wendy.
“Oh dear lord, not you too,” said Jake. “Maureen is forever on me about that crap. I don’t do astrology.”
“It’s not astrology. It’s psychology. It’s like the Myers-Briggs in that it’s simply a categorization system based on your own choices and preferences in life. It helps people communicate,” she said.
“So? Is there a point here?” Jake asked.
“I think you’re a three,” she said.
“What does that mean? I already know I’m a Libra,” Jake said.
“No, it’s not astrology. Your being a three means you are a people pleaser. You like to achieve things because you crave acceptance and respect from people. It’s why you do what you do,” she said.
“Wait a minute. Everybody likes those things. Everybody wants to achieve, everybody wants to be loved and respected. Those are universal,” said Jake.
“Universal, maybe. But other people don’t crave that stuff to the extent that you do. It’s lower on their want list. It literally drives you.”
“This sounds a little like hooey to me,” said Jake. “And if this is why you wanted to go first, I think maybe I shouldn’t have deferred.”
“Okay, first of all, it’s not hooey. It’s science. Second of all, it’s not why I wanted to go first. I was talking about how Eddie is protective of you. He talked to me about you. About your situation. About what your mentality must be like right now. And all I wanted to say is, I appreciate that,” she said.
“Appreciate what?” said Jake.
“Where you must be right now. What kind of internal struggle you must be undergoing. And it’s terribly complicated. And Eddie was afraid I might complicate it more,” Wendy said.
“What do you mean? How would you complicate it more?” asked Jake.
“I think you know what I mean. I like you Jake. I’d like to find out more about what makes you tick. But I understand that right now, that would be like throwing a wrench into your already-too-large pile of wrenches. Your plate is full. It’s overflowing. And you can’t focus on the ‘here and now’ if you are distracted by the ‘maybe later.’ And I very well might be the maybe later,” Wendy said.