“The competition?”
“Perhaps. I think we should check in with Denali first. They came up with Lucracillin so quickly last time, maybe we can just deal with them solely. Eliminates a few complexities, if we can go that route.”
“Sounds good.”
President Coleridge activated his PortiComm and called Dan Tremaine at Denali.
“Dan, I’m calling about the ASA outbreak. I have John Humphrey here with me. I’m going to put the call on speaker.” He touched a button on his PortiComm. “I’ll get right to the point. ASA is similar enough to MRSA-II that I wondered if you were already working on something for it.”
“It is similar, but as you know, it’s resistant to Lucracillin. Turns out Lucracillin actually stimulates it. We are working on developing a drug specific to ASA, but don’t have anything quite yet.”
“I see. Well, the crisis calls for bold action, so I’m prepared to address it as we did with the MRSA-II outbreak. Since you don’t have anything ready yet, I’m going to hedge our bets and call Horton in on this, too. Same deal as last time.”
“Certainly, Mr. President. I have every confidence we will come up with something shortly, and I will let you know the minute we do.”
“Thank you, Dan. Good luck.”
He ended the call and let his eyes drift back to the flat panels on the wall. “Damn. Wish they’d already had something ready or nearly so. I’ll have to get Horton on board again.” He took a closer look at Humphrey. “You look terrible, John. I’ll make the call. You should go home and get a little rest.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. I appreciate it. I haven’t been home all week.”
* * *
Phil Horton slumped at his desk, punishing himself by watching the nonstop media coverage of the ASA epidemic on his FloaTouch display. He’d made the wrong bet—a deadly bet. He’d been a fool to believe that the mutation Sylvia and Jerry found in the lab wouldn’t eventually arise in the population. Now a whole lot of people were dying and even if he came clean about Horton’s role, it wouldn’t stop the deadly march of what was easily the most dangerous pathogen ever.
He wished he had encouraging news from Sylvia and Jerry, but despite his constant checking, there had been no news to be had. Despite all their hard work and the Pathosym’s technological prowess, the solution remained elusive. He shuddered to think of how long it would have taken to find the cure the old-fashioned way. Didn’t matter. People were still dying at a horrifying rate while they used the fastest technology possible to solve the problem.
His PortiComm rang, jarring him out of his miserable ruminations. He took a sharp breath and his heart began to pound when he glanced at the caller ID. The president was calling.
He cleared his throat and pressed the button to take the call. “Hello, Phil Horton speaking.”
“This is President Coleridge. I’m calling about the ASA epidemic. We have to act fast on this, and I’m proposing another competition between Horton and Denali to find the cure ASAP. Same terms as before. Whoever finds it first will receive full manufacturing and distribution support and financing from the government. I presume you’re willing to participate again?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Good. I contacted Tremaine at Denali moments ago. Good luck. Please let me know immediately if you develop something we can use.”
Phil pressed the button to end the call, leaned back in his chair and wiped the sweat from his upper lip. Nothing like a little more pressure. They were already working as hard as they could on the cure, with nothing yet to show for it. Now the conditions were in place for Denali to beat them again, gain yet another insanely lucrative contract with the government, and kill off Horton once and for all.
The irony was not lost on him.
CHAPTER 47
Sylvia slammed her gloved fist down on the lab counter. Several petri dishes clattered, and one nearly fell to the floor. “Damn it!” Her voice sounded close to breaking.
Jerry hurried toward her from the other end of the lab, where he was filling the autoclave. “What’s the matter?”
“The Pathosym still hasn’t been able to come up with a compound that so much as slows this fucking bug down.” She clenched and unclenched her gloved fists in impotent rage. “I’m scared we won’t find anything…ever. The fucking thing’s out there, spreading…and killing. It’s going to shift from epidemic to pandemic before long, I just know it. And then—”
Jerry sat in the chair next to hers and put a hand on her shoulder to try to comfort her. Sylvia had made an egregious and deadly mistake in agreeing to release the pathogen, yet it pained him to see how hard she was working to counteract the consequences, and how much guilt she had taken on in the process. He wished they could turn back the clock, for all their sakes. Then everything would be different. “We’ll find it. We will.”
She glared at him, her eyes red with unshed tears. “When? How many more people will die while we’re trying? How many have already died? I’ve lost track, locked up here in the lab.” She turned away and lowered her voice. “You were right. I wish I’d listened to you. I wish Phil had listened to you. Look what this has caused. People are dying horrible deaths. Everything’s going to hell. People are afraid to go out, to go to work. The stock market is tanking. No travel in and out of the country. My God, the economy could actually collapse if this doesn’t end soon.”
Jerry wished he could assure her she was exaggerating, that it wasn’t all that bad. But it was. The only good thing about the general panic and publicity was the recognition that ASA was a different disease than MRSA-II. Doctors were less likely to administer Lucracillin without first making damned sure which disease they were treating. That was some small comfort; at least that helped minimize the number of Lucracillin-fueled ASA cases.
“They’re using those disposable IsoStat isolation pods when a patient presents with anything remotely resembling either ASA or MRSA-II. That’s got to be helping slow the spread.”
“It’s not enough and you know it.”
“Well, I know, but until we have a cure—”
“No. It’s not enough. Don’t forget, even the original version of the GIS bacteria that we designed is capable of mutation. And still no one is being quarantined when they contract GIS. Who knows how much that’s adding to the spread of the mutant strain?”
Jerry nodded and let out a long breath. “You’re right. We can’t know how much of a factor that is, but it is another potential mechanism for the spread of ASA—or some other mutant strain.”
“Yeah. No matter how you look at it, this thing’s got the upper hand, and we’re sitting here with all our fancy equipment and nothing to stem the tide.”
“It should never have come to this.”
“What do you think I’ve been saying? I wish to God I could take back that day I planted the fucking thing on those buses. I can never, ever forgive myself for being so stupid, so smug that we’d designed something that couldn’t possibly get out of hand. Stupid!” She smacked herself on the side of her head, the sound dampened by her hazmat suit.
He grabbed the back of her chair and swiveled it to make her face him.
“No, Sylvia. That’s not what I mean. I’m thinking back to twenty, thirty years ago and probably even before that. We set ourselves up for this. Back then, antibiotics were miracle drugs, the answer to everything. They were prescribed at the drop of a hat for even minor infections. They were prescribed for daily, routine use in farm animals to get better yields for meat, eggs, milk—which humans in turn consumed. So what did bacteria do? They did what they needed to do to survive—they developed resistance. And we developed more and better antibiotics. It became an arms race, pure and simple.”
“Survival of the fittest.”
“That’s right. Now look at us, as an industry. We had to develop the technology to create ultra-specific drugs to combat more and more resistant bacteria. And we largely succeeded. But then we couldn’t leave that alone. Ego
and greed got involved. I’ll bet MRSA-II wasn’t the first pathogen that Denali engineered, and it won’t be the last. Where will it end?”
“It’s going to end in total annihilation if we can’t figure out a cure for this one. That much I do know.” Sylvia squared her shoulders and turned to the Pathosym. “We’ve got to figure this out.”
CHAPTER 48
“That’s it for today. Remember, your mock motions for summary judgment are due next week.” Todd Barrett stepped back from the podium and wished he could just leave for the day. He wasn’t up to dealing with the usual group of hypercompetitive students that swarmed him after class to ask questions about the assignment.
“Professor Barrett, what format do we use?” asked a thin, anxious-looking young woman with thick glasses.
“I posted a sample on the course Intranet, Ms. Gallagher.”
“Oh right, thanks! I forgot.” She smiled, blushed, and retreated.
“Professor Barrett, I’m still having some trouble understanding the requirements for personal jurisdiction.”
“That’s a longer discussion, Mr. Carmichael. Please, make an appointment to come to my office to discuss that one.”
“Sure, thanks.”
Todd fielded various questions—large and small—from the students for several minutes, then held up his hand. “Sorry, I need to get back to my office right now. Email me the short questions, and make appointments for the larger discussions, please.”
Todd let out a sigh of relief as the students dispersed and fled to their next classes. Normally, he didn’t mind fielding their post-class questions. But not today. He’d felt fine when he left home in the morning, but in just the last few hours, he’d started to feel incredibly tired and somewhat feverish. He headed upstairs to his office to hide out until his afternoon class.
He shut his door and hoped that would give any visitors the impression he was out or busy with a private matter, so he would have some peace and quiet for a while. He stepped around his desk, dropped down into his chair, and noted the time. His next class didn’t start for a couple of hours. Time enough to do something he hadn’t done in years. He decided to take a nap at his desk. Surely he would feel a little better after that.
Todd rested his head on his desk, then scratched the itch that had begun to spread across his shoulder. He fell asleep in just a few minutes.
* * *
Sylvia pulled into her garage, shut off the engine, and rested her head on the steering wheel for a moment. Another day, another failed attempt to find the cure. Another day, and that many more people will have died.
She was not surprised to see Todd’s car already there. Late yet again, she’d have to pull something out of the freezer to come up with some semblance of dinner, though cooking was about the last thing on her mind right now. She probably should have let Todd know she’d be this late. He could have gotten them some takeout.
She headed inside and flicked on the kitchen lights. Her shoulders slumped when she glanced at the counter. No sign of any surprise takeout or other progress toward dinner. She sighed and set her purse down on a chair.
“Todd?”
She stepped into the darkened living room and turned on the lights. Todd lay on the couch, apparently asleep. She walked over to him.
“Todd? Sorry I’m so late again.”
He opened his eyes and regarded her with a somewhat dazed expression. “Oh, hi.” He grunted. “Must have fallen asleep.” He tried to sit up, then slumped back down.
Sylvia didn’t like his color at all. She reached out and touched his forehead. “You’re burning up. When did this start?”
He licked his lips as if they were parched and painful. “Oh, a few hours ago. I was fine this morning, then just suddenly went downhill. I tried to sleep it off for a while in my office, then felt so bad I had to cancel my last class and come home.”
He struggled to raise himself up, then leaned against the back of the couch. Once steady, he vigorously scratched his shoulders, then his forearms, through his shirt.
A chill ran up Sylvia’s back as she watched. “Why are you scratching?”
He shot her a sarcastic look. “Because it itches, of course.”
“Itches? How bad?”
“Pretty bad, and it’s been getting worse. At first it was just on this one side. Now it seems to have traveled some.”
Before he could object, she unbuttoned his shirt and helped him out of it.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
She stood up and took a step back, nearly stumbling against the coffee table. “We have to get you to the hospital. Right now. Put your shirt back on. I need to sanitize my hands.”
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?”
Heart pounding, she took a few more steps back, her hands extended away from her. “It’s my fault. Oh, God.”
He made a wobbly attempt at standing. “What is your prob—”
“Stay there! Put your shirt on and sit down. You’re highly contagious.”
He sat, a perplexed look on his pale face. “What is going on?”
“I didn’t tell you the latest development. We’ve been working like hell to find the cure. The GIS pathogen we engineered has mutated. It starts out looking like MRSA-II, but it’s much more…serious. Lucracillin only makes it worse.”
“What? It mutated? To that ASA bug—and you think I have it?” Todd turned even whiter.
“I hope I’m wrong, believe me I do, but knowing what I know, we can’t take a chance. I’ve got to get you to the hospital right away. And…you’ll need to be quarantined.”
Todd pushed himself back into the couch as if to distance himself from her words. “Quarantined? Are you serious? I was around students the better part of the day.”
“Can’t do anything about that right now, but you have what looks to me like an active infection. Put your shirt back on. We need to try to contaminate as little as we can here and in the car.”
Sylvia went upstairs, got an old blanket and returned to the living room to find Todd with his shirt on and his arms folded across his chest.
“Come on, hurry.” She spread open the blanket and stepped toward him.
“This is—”
“Don’t argue with me. We have to go. Now.”
Sylvia barely heard Todd’s protestations through the adrenaline haze that consumed her. She bundled him up in the blanket and managed to hustle him into her car. Then she ran back into the house to get a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a roll of paper towels. She returned to the car, where she had him wipe down all his exposed skin with the alcohol and she did the same. It was primitive, but she had to do something. The Pathosym’s profiling had revealed that the bacteria was highly contagious, but mostly through direct touch with another victim or a contaminated surface touched by a victim. Fortunately, it appeared to be less likely to spread through airborne transmission. At least she hoped the Pathosym was right on that point.
She started the car and gunned it into reverse. The tires squealed as she shifted into Drive and set out for the hospital.
“Can’t we just—”
“Shush. I have to concentrate.” She bolted past one car and nearly clipped another in her haste.
“Look out!” Todd’s arms shot out in front of him in a defensive gesture as she pushed her luck on a late yellow light.
CHAPTER 49
Sylvia pulled up to the Emergency entrance and skidded to a stop. “Stay put. I’ll be back as fast as I can.”
The terrified expression on Todd’s face tore at her heart, but there was no time to lose. She turned and headed for the entrance, determined to do what needed to be done before she lost her nerve.
She hurried to the triage desk. “My husband’s outside. I think he may have ASA.”
The nurse nodded and pressed a button. “Possible ASA case waiting outside.” She looked up at Sylvia. “Someone will be right with you, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
After several minutes, two orderlies in full hazmat gear showed up with a gurney. One of them spoke briefly with the nurse. She nodded toward Sylvia.
“Where is the patient, ma’am?” asked one of the orderlies.
“This way.” Sylvia led them out to her car and opened the passenger door. She leaned inside and tried to remain matter-of-fact. “Todd, they’re ready for you.” She pointed to the gurney. “Just get on that and lie down.”
“Are you sure this is so serious?”
She nodded. “It looks like it to me. They’ll run tests of course. But if it is what I think, we can’t take any chances.”
The orderlies adjusted the height of the gurney and helped Todd out of the car and onto it. She wanted to cry when she saw how panicked he looked when he saw their hazmat suits. She couldn’t blame him.
One of them reached into a compartment beneath the gurney and took out an undeployed IsoStat unit. The orderlies quickly arranged the layers of plastic around Todd and inflated the IsoStat until it created a chamber around him. They nodded to Sylvia and began to push Todd toward the hospital entrance. She locked the car and followed them.
They rolled Todd down the hall and stopped next to a black plastic structure with white lettering that read Portable Decontamination Vestibule. Sylvia felt a twinge in her gut when she realized the yellow and black biohazard symbol applied to her husband.
They opened the outer door, revealing a space inside similar to the vestibule in her lab, but larger, to allow gurneys and other equipment to pass through to the actual hospital room. Plastic shelves along one side held disposable hazmat suits.
One of the orderlies took a suit from the shelf. “Ma’am, you’ll need to put this on for your own safety.” He started to unfold it and show her the openings.
She took it from him. “I know how to get into one of these, thanks.” She donned the suit as quickly as she could. “All right.”
Blockbuster Page 14