The Cure

by Jeremy P Horgan

  ‘Tals, why don’t you join me and the boys for a drink or two tonight. I bet Faye would come,’ said Danny to Tallulah.

  ‘I think you’ve had enough Danny. Come on, let’s get you back to the dorm and get you a coffee,’ said Tallulah.

  ‘Enough? Yes, I’ve had enough. Enough of everyone treating me like an idiot,’ he stumbled into a chair. ‘I know what’s going on. I know.’ He mumbled incoherently and sat down leaning backwards in the chair. ‘Yes, I know alright.’ He lent back further and further until the chair overturned spilling him onto the floor.

  Both Logan and Tallulah looked at each other and laughed as Danny started snoring.

  ‘Rain check?’ said Tallulah.

  Logan nodded ‘I remember my dad coming home and telling me that my mother was pregnant and that I was going to get a little brother who I could play with. Little did I know that sixteen years later I’d be picking him off the floor and carrying him to bed.’

  ‘You can’t choose your family Logan,’ she replied. ‘I know that more than most.’

  Danny started making heaving noises from the floor. ‘Time for me to leave,’ said Tallulah smiling at Logan. ‘Oh, but not without these,’ she said picking the bowl and jug up. ‘Thank you,’ she kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Logan as he contemplated how he was going to lift his brother and get him back to the dormitory. ‘Family,’ he lamented.

  ***************

  ‘Thanks, little Bro,’ Logan said to Danny pulling his arm over his shoulder and trying to lift him to his feet. ‘I was at least hoping to get one of those strawberries,’ he chuckled. Danny made a groaning noise.

  ‘I can remember holding you in my hands when you were born. I was so happy to have a friend for life who would never let me down and would always be there for me. Someone I would always be there for. What happened? What did I do that made you feel you couldn’t come to me for anything? I’m your brother, your family. I would die for you.’

  They reached the dorm and Logan slumped the dead weight onto his bunk. ‘I love you man, but I need you. I want back those days when you would tell me everything. Those days when Dad was working until all hours and we’d have midnight feasts, playing baseball in the hallways of the White House and losing our security detail. But when did I lose you? What did I do to you that made you feel you couldn’t trust me anymore?’, but Danny was unconscious.

  ‘Maybe I should have left years ago. Given you your chance to shine. But I couldn’t live without you. You kept me grounded and happy. Helped me on the days when Dad wasn’t around and I needed a friend. I would do anything to have that back.’

  Logan stood and started to walk away.

  ‘I love you too man,’ came a voice from the bed.

  Without looking back Logan smiled and walked on.

  Chapter Three

  The President’s bunker was a war room at the deepest part of the base, fluorescent lighting buzzing above a large oak table. Computers hummed in the surrounding rooms as the President and his supporting staff took their places around the table, flanked by their assistants and security detail. Logan Mathers stood directly behind his father.

  The room was imposing, as if many wars had been won here before and history seeped out of the walls, but in fact this facility had never been used before The Cure. It had sat empty apart from a skeleton staff of army employees and cleaners for many years. Now, however, it was fighting a war not against people, but against the fact we had used the worlds natural resources and we were about to lose the world altogether.

  The base itself was self-sustaining and most of the people in the room were looking to see how they could roll out a similar program, quickly and on a much greater scale, with minimal employees to do so. What they were hoping for was impossible and they knew it.

  Around forty people were in the room and most would get their chance to speak. Heads of different departments took their turn to talk about food, energy, military and anything that might have an impact on ensuring there was enough food available to feed the remaining population, whilst replenishing stocks and bringing back civilization. But out of everyone talking everyone only had eyes on one person, and that was the President.

  ’So, where do we stand with communication with other countries and what are they are doing?’ he bellowed.

  Up stood Franklin J Pitkin, probably the meekest looking man you’d ever seen. A man who lack of food probably wouldn’t have made much of an impact to his appearance. He wore a grey three-piece suit and looked like an accountant, but had foregone the tie as clothes were now in limited supply. The sweat came off him and carried through the room so much so that the man sat next to him could almost taste the smell. As for men you wanted in the frontline Franklin was not one of them, but if he knew one thing it was communications and he ran his department well.

  ‘We are currently still in touch with Sweden, Norway, France, Spain and of course Britain. However, over the course of the last week we have lost contact with Russia, Germany and Australia. They have chosen to stop communications and no longer work in allegiance with us. Unfortunately, to our knowledge, India and Northern Africa have lost contact and according to the Ecology Department have less than months before their supplies are fully depleted and likely a year become the population is wiped out completely.’

  This news may have rocked a political cabinet had it been under different circumstances and had they not heard it all before, but these countries were just the latest in many who had already lost contact and were known to be nearing extinction. Bigger countries had already dropped off the face of the earth and in the months to come many more were expected to follow. Not one country had come up with an answer and there was no standard strategy to why those left were still there. There were of course people still scattered across the fallen countries, but with no food there was no coming back for them now. If they still had officials in place it was only a matter of time before they disappeared.

  ‘Can we get the British Prime minister on now?’

  ‘He's not available sir, I believe that he is currently discussing the wall between them and Scotland. They are in critical talks to ensure that the Scottish do not cross the border. Sounds like Civil War is imminent,’ Franklin stammered.

  ‘Sounds like if they have enough army resource to start a war then they are in a good position from a food perspective. What do they have in place that we’ve overlooked?’ The President looked down his spectacles at Franklin who was backing towards his chair nervously.

  ‘They started the process a year before us Sir, it’s purely a timing issue. Our scientists put them at risk within six months to a year. They are no further along than us Sir.’

  The President tutted, waved Franklin away and slammed both hands in frustration down on the large oak table. In his prime Nathanial Mathers was a force to be reckoned with. A war veteran, he was a man with huge presence who did not suffer fools gladly and whilst he appreciated everyone’s input and the enormous amount of stress his workforce were under he had started to admit defeat. It was starting to show on the furrow above his brow. Nathanial had been thrown into the Presidency having been Vice-President at the start of The Cure. When the former President decided to take his own life, he was sworn in with the job of saving a sinking ship. Being the man he was, he would not shy away from the job at hand and would never let his sons see him give up on the nation he had promised to lead.

  ‘Brad, I guess we are no further forward with regards to food,’ he threw the comment out not really expecting a response.

  Brad Holton was the exact opposite of his communications counterpart. If anyone had embraced the fact the base still had access to food, it was Holton. His face was flush from alcohol the night before and he maintained not two but three chins. He was not only in charge of the scientists looking to get food out into the world but looking at ways to create new sustainable foods, like supplements and replacements. He was working with the remaining NAS
A staff, what was left of them, to find ways to mass produce freeze dried foods that could be easily distributed to the cities. Unfortunately, every path they investigated had relied on existing produce which was something they did not have access to. But what he did have access to was the base produce and boy did he abuse that privilege. His son and wife were also on the base and like father like son, Brad Junior, did not worry where his next meal was coming from.

  Holton wasn’t shy or embarrassed about his weight, bearing in mind he knew first-hand what the country was going through and he cared not what the rest of the base thought of him. As far as he was concerned, he was the sole person who would solve the world’s problem and he should get exactly what was coming to him. He stood to attention with his stomach resting on the table.

  ‘Sorry Sir, yet another dead-end. We’ve got people working on the mass production of replacement meals around the clock. But the timelines are just too long. By the time we have the production up and running and producing the amount of food we need it’ll be too late.’

  The President put one hand to his head. ‘Anyone?’ he lamented. ‘Can anyone please give me some good news. I am due to send out a communication into the cities today and I need to give them something to stop the murder, stop the crime, stop the suicides. We need to give them hope, because without hope they will give up and giving up is the one thing we cannot allow’.

  Most of the delegates tried not to make eye contact by looking at their notes, but one man sat up straight in his chair tapping his finger against his nose. His pinstripe suit made him look like a second-hand car salesman, but in this room it made him look like the one person who wasn’t scared of what was coming. Everything about this man said power play. ‘Nathanial’ he said calmly and slowly getting to his feet. He stepped out behind his chair, flanked by his security detail, following him around to the opposite side of the table. ‘There may be an option available to us.

  Joshua Goldsmith was the right-hand man to the former President and rumors were that he was present when the suicide occurred. He was ambitious and had hoped to take Nathanial’s place, but fate had meant he had fallen into a much lower position than he would have liked as he was untrustworthy and loathed by his own party. He oozed repugnance and by his own admission he traded on it, looking like the villain of the piece he had absolutely no problem making the decisions many others shied away from. He may have been untrustworthy, but he was good at what he did, which was doing things that made problems go away, whether it be ethical or not. He never went anywhere without his shadow McGregor, an ex-marine, for fear of confrontation.

  ‘So, Nathanial,’ he said refusing to address him as President for the second time ‘We have a problem and we’ve been looking at it the wrong way. We’ve always maintained that we don’t have enough food to feed the population. Right? Well, what we should be thinking is that we have too many people for the food that we do have. Are you with me?’

  ‘No, not really Goldsmith, elaborate.’ The President was already having doubts of where this conversation was going.

  ‘Well, let me bring in Professor Wanikiy. He may be able to explain a little better,’ as he gestured to a soldier by the door of the room.

  Wanikiy came in wearing his white protective clothing, stooped over with papers in his hand. He was the only American Indian on the base and everyone knew him. He was a genius and in charge of overseeing every scientific project that was in progress. Nathanial had put him in charge early into his presidency and Wanikiy had been at the forefront of every breakthrough they had had so far. He was the Presidents go to man and seeing him walk into the room put him at ease and put a smile on his face, holding out a hand to shake, whilst firmly gripping his arm.

  ‘It’s been too long Ethan,’ said the President. ‘You need to get out that laboratory from time to time. You’ll be consumed if you don’t. I don’t know how your daughter puts up with my eldest.’ He smiled again giving a backwards glance to Logan, who remained stoic and to attention.

  ‘Nathanial,’ replied Wanikiy, nodding graciously.

  ‘Please Professor, explain what we have discussed,’ Goldsmith interjected.

  ‘So,’ Wanikiy started ‘As we already know, in 2021 the population of the United States was approximately 353 million, which over the next five years grew significantly to 459 million, before dropping over a further five-year period to 235 million. We can now, from satellite imaging and our best-case guesses, put the entire population somewhere in the region of just under 98 million.’ He paused, whilst the room composed themselves taking in the fact that the reason for the large-scale deaths was mostly through murder or suicides. ‘Now, 98 million people is still a massive population by the standards of many other countries but given the size of our country there is still untapped resources out there which are dwindling fast. However, if the population was for example around the 37 million mark within say a month from now, maybe two, we could stand a good chance of using those resources to help replenish part, if not all the country again. It wouldn’t be easy, and we would need to go state to state recruiting more military and using our own resources to bring them on board. This is not an exact science, but we’ve been over and over the figures and the potential to start building sustainable food supplies and we feel this is our only chance of survival. If we continue on the current path and population then we fully expect to be as good as dead in under a year.’

  The president waited, and the room fell silent. ‘Ethan, thank you. But the problem is that we are still overpopulated and have absolutely no way to reduce the population in time. I don’t see how this is even a plan.’

  Wanikiy looked to Goldsmith waiting to see if he was ready to take the question. Goldsmith nodded to him to continue. ‘Mr President, for the past year we have realized that there is no way to reverse The Cure and besides which we did not think it was ethical to allow people to die slow agonizing deaths through illness or now through starvation, so we have been working on something else, something different. We knew early on that the issue was population to food ratio and have been working on a method to carry a toxin through the water supply to the cities to reduce the population.’

  ‘Wait,’ the President raised his hand. ‘You’re talking about genocide here, correct? Let me understand this correctly. You are talking about poisoning people.’

  ‘So that millions can survive Nathanial,’ Goldsmith interjected.

  The president slumped back into his seat and the rest of the room started whispering to each other, gradually increasing to arguments and then shouting.

  ’Stop. Stop. Stop.’ The President rose to his feet again. ‘Everyone stop. Sit down. Be quiet.’ The room went quiet immediately. ‘So, you are telling me that in less than a year we’ll be dead. Everyone out there, everyone in here and for us to even have a chance of surviving and for the population to repopulate and have enough resource to live healthily, people must die?’

  Wanikiy spoke up. ’With all due respect, people are dying horrific deaths out there already. They will be dead within a year. We have longer, maybe six years, which could stretch to ten, but we have no way to repopulate the town we’re built under, let alone a country of our size. We are talking about the end of all human existence.’

  ‘What if that was the plan Ethan? What if that was the whole reason for The Cure in the first place. Look at what the world was becoming. What we had turned it into. This is just the flood that Noah withstood. Maybe we are the ones to live, maybe this is what He wanted all along,’ said the President.

  ‘But what if we had a chance and didn’t take it Sir?’ said Goldsmith ‘What then?’

  ‘How exactly would this even work? How would you choose who lived and who died? How would you play God with these people’s lives?’

  ‘Wanikiy?’ Goldsmith held out a hand.

  ‘It would be completely random. The toxin wouldn’t hurt them, they would simply fall into a deep painless sleep and not wake up. Some people would be resistan
t, but we figured that it would affect 60% of the people it reached. It would be transported through the Nebraska water reservoir and therefore would hit most of the major cities. It would however not reach seven of the major states that use a different water filtration system. And of course, it would not affect our own water system for the base. Some people wouldn’t drink the water, but most would. Some would figure out that the water is killing them before they drink it and therefore won’t be affected. But if our figures are correct, we should be in the region of the required population within a month if we act on this now.’

  ‘And you have the volume of the toxin and the means to transport it to the water filtration?’ said the President solemnly.

  ‘Ready to leave today Sir.’

  The President looked round to his son and grimaced. As President he knew that sometimes you had to make tough decisions which involved sacrificing the few to save the many. But this was different. This was purposely killing millions of people to ensure that humanity, regardless of who was saved, survived and did they even deserve to live? Was this all just a test?

  ‘This is not a decision we can take lightly. Please can all heads of staff and security leave the room whilst I confer with the remaining senators.’ The room mumbled and those asked to leave started to stand and walk into the adjoining room watching through the glass windows as the remaining men and women looked at each other with disbelief that this is what it had come to.

  Clockwise around the table each man and woman one at a time slowly raised their hands until it came to The President himself. In silence they watched as his lifted his hand before falling back into his chair defeated.

  After the board meeting was done the members slowly filtered out, shocked by the decision they had just made. The only people who remained were the President, Goldsmith and the Commander General. The President was sat down slumped back in his chair dejected.