The Viral Epiphany

by Richard McSheehy

  The morning of the third day dawned calm and clear. As people began to venture out of their homes again, the assessment of the damages had begun. Homes that had been built of stone, with roofs covered with gray slabs of slate, were mostly intact. The Irish had learned centuries before to make good use of the rocks that were found almost everywhere in the land to build their homes. Homes made of wood and roofs of asphalt shingles might be fine for some parts of the world, but for this sometimes-wild land, it would always have to be houses made of stone.

  While many trees had been uprooted and blown down, and roads were blocked in nearly every town, the townspeople of County Cork pitched in alongside the County workers and soon, even as the sun quickly melted the snow, most of the major roads were passable again. Besides those who were involved in the cleanup there were others, the curious, who were eager to survey the impact of the storm. Many people made their way to the southern coast, only a few miles from Cork city to see what had been washed up onto the shores. The excitement of possibly finding some long lost treasure that had been cast up upon the shore was irresistible. One of these people, Owen O’Donovan, had driven down to Dunowen Head at the entrance to Clonakilty Bay, shortly after sunrise. He was amazed to see upon the rocks the battered, blue and white remains of the wreckage of a very large boat, the Saint-Étienne-du-Rouvray.

  She had been, perhaps, a trawler, and the name on the bow indicated that she was, more than likely, from France. The largest piece of the hull was at least fifty feet long. This was the section that contained the forward cabin and part, maybe half, of the aft deck. It appeared that the boat had been ripped apart when it hit the rocks. There was no trace of the stern section of the boat nor was there any trace of the crew or passengers. Owen called the Clonakilty Garda station with his mobile phone and the Gardai and the Irish Coast Guard had begun a land and sea search for survivors along the Cork coastline at 8 a.m.

  An hour after the search for survivors had started along the southern coast, Dan, Sheila, and Brendan sat down in the office of the local manager of Americus Medical Agents, the largest of several American pharmaceutical manufacturing plants in Cork.

  Dan introduced Sheila and Brendan to Martin, and after they had all sat down at the small conference table and been given cups of tea Dan said, “Martin, let me come right to the point. We think we have a viable formula for a vaccine for Asian Fever.” Dan went on to tell him how Brendan had analyzed the mammoth tissue and then used the university’s computer system to create a theoretical vaccine. He then went on to tell Martin how they had recently tested it using Dan’s vaccine program.

  “So I really think we should now find a way to go ahead and mass produce the vaccine. This is exactly what is needed to protect the people of Ireland.”

  “That’s very interesting, Dan. My congratulations to you and Brendan,” Martin had said, “but there is one major issue you left out. Even if this vaccine is effective, as I’m sure it is, who is going to pay for the production? We at AMA can’t very well foot the bill ourselves, you know.”

  “Yes, of course,” Dan replied. “We will have to get the government involved too, very quickly.”

  “Perhaps I can put in a call to the Taoiseach,” Martin said, “I know him rather well, you know, and I would think he would be most interested.” The discussion continued for the next few hours with both Dan and Brendan giving detailed descriptions of the retrovirus that had been discovered in the mammoth tissue and of the corresponding vaccine. They decided to break for lunch at one p.m. and walked across the street to a new theme restaurant that had become popular with AMA employees called The Galloglas. The word was that they had the best roast beef in Cork.

  While they were enjoying their meal and continuing to discuss the vaccine issue, an Irish Coast Guard search and rescue team found the first body from the Saint-Étienne-du-Rouvray. It had washed ashore near the Old Head of Kinsale, about ten miles from the site of the wreck. At about the same time a young, and still very wet, Frenchman staggered into O’Brien’s pub in the small town of Ardfield, a few miles from the wreck.

  The man’s torn clothing and bedraggled hair instantly caught the attention of everyone in the room. His face was badly scraped and bleeding. He stood at the door for a few moments, as if in a daze, and looked around at the people who were sitting at the tables and then turned towards the old man behind the bar. He swayed unsteadily as he spoke a few words in French, but no one understood what he said. A young fisherman at the table nearest to him quickly stood up and offered him his hand, but as the French man reached out to take it he lurched forward and fell to the floor. Seconds later a steady stream of blood began flowing from his mouth and collecting in a pool on the old oaken floor. The young woman who had been sitting with the fisherman screamed.

  While the young Frenchman lay dying on the floor of O’Brien’s pub, other survivors were making their way, either by foot or by hitchhiking, to the nearest towns – all the while trying to avoid detection by the gardai, for they were well aware that the Irish border was closed to entry by all. Throughout the afternoon the search teams continued their efforts to find survivors, and the survivors of the wreck of the Saint-Étienne-du-Rouvray tried to avoid capture.

  As Dan and the others continued their discussions over lunch, Dan explained to Martin how the vaccine could be created synthetically.

  “I think that your facility could begin production rather quickly if we provide you with the code.” Dan said.

  “I agree, I think we could. We certainly have the equipment to produce synthetic vaccines here. I would have to make sure we have enough supplies, like sterile water, on hand. Will we need to supply an adjuvant, like aluminum phosphate, to the vaccine?”

  “No, sir,” Brendan said with a slight smile, “It’s designed to be very active in stimulating the production of antibodies without the use of any adjuvants.”

  “Brilliant,” Martin said with a grin, “Well then, I’m sure we have enough supplies of organic materials. The main problem might be to figure out a distribution plan. With four or five million people in Ireland needing the vaccine it could take quite a while to get it to everyone. We would need to get some of the other biotech companies involved too, you know. We would also need government help to distribute it quickly.”

  Martin was quiet for a few moments and then he said, “Alright, you’ve convinced me. As soon as we get back I’ll call the Taoiseach!”

  They walked back to the AMA headquarters building shortly after 2 p.m. and Dan, Sheila, and Brendan settled down again in Martin’s office and waited for Martin to place his call. However, before he had a chance to make the call there was a knock on the door and his secretary looked in.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt sir. There’s a call for Mr. Quinn from the Cork Garda station. They say it’s extremely urgent.”

  Martin motioned to the phone on the desk and Dan picked it up. It was the Captain he had talked with after the men from Omega had been captured.

  “Dr. Quinn, I’m sorry to bother you, but this is quite important. I recall from our discussion that you had mentioned to me that you might have a vaccine for Asian Fever. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, it is,” Dan replied, “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m afraid, sir, that the disease has found its way to Cork. I just received word from Clonakilty Garda station. A boat from France was wrecked on the coast during the night, and we are guessing there were at least ten and maybe as many as fifty people on the boat. They were probably trying to land illegally in Cork and got caught in the storm. We have a report of one survivor who has died in a pub in Ardfield with massive bleeding, and I have received a report that a local car dropped three other men from a wrecked boat at Clonakilty hospital an hour ago. We don’t know what symptoms they might have. However, based upon the size of the wreck I think there are probably many others wandering about the Clonakilty area, and it’s likely some of them are infected also.”

  “I see,” Dan said as he look
ed over at the others in Martin’s office. The expression on his face told them all that the news was very grave.

  “So, Mr. Quinn. Is it true that you have a supply of the vaccine then? I think we might be needing it quite soon.”

  “Let me call you back,” Dan said and quickly hung up the phone. At first he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard from the Garda Captain. At last he simply whispered, “The disease…Asian Fever. It’s here in Cork!” Each of them suddenly felt their hearts begin pounding at the words.

  Ten minutes later Martin was talking on the phone with the Taoiseach. After explaining that the researchers at UCC had created a vaccine for Asian Fever, Martin relayed the news that they had recently received from the Garda Captain.

  “You’re sure the disease is in Cork?” the Taoiseach asked.

  “Yes, sir. There is no doubt. The manner of death that was described to me can only be Asian Fever.”

  “Then you’d best get started right away, Martin. Don’t worry about the costs; the government will cover the charges. I’ll alert the defense forces to be ready to distribute the vaccine to everyone in Ireland.”

  “I think we need to involve all the production companies in Ireland, sir. I don’t think AMA can do it all alone.”

  “Absolutely. Can you provide them with the computer code too?”

  “Yes, I can do that almost instantly. The real problem is manufacturing time and distribution time.”

  “How long will that take?” the Taoiseach asked.

  “I think the manufacturing will go quickly. We can make very large batches of the liquid very quickly, maybe only a few days, but the distribution of the vaccine will take some time. I would think that for Ireland we would need four or five million doses. That could take weeks to distribute!”

  “Well then, we’d best get started. You’ll have maximum support from me. Maybe we have time to save most of our people. But we have to act fast!”

  “Yes, sir!” Martin said and after he hung up he turned to Dan, Sheila, and Brendan. “OK!” he said, “The Taoiseach is with us one hundred percent. It’s up to us now. Let’s get going - I’m afraid we don’t have any time to spare!”

  Thirty

  The Goddess of the Seas, plowed eastward through the blue-green waters of the North Atlantic Ocean, the long streaks of rust on its hull showing it was definitely not a cruise ship, on its way to Rotterdam with its weekly cargo of frozen American beef, chicken, and vegetables. The ship was passing over the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, about a thousand miles south of Iceland, and would be arriving in port in a few days. The crew of twenty merchant seamen were always very busy whenever the American Goddess Lines container ship was entering or leaving port, but now, in the open sea, with no other ships or land in sight, they often had spare time for reading, listening to music, or perhaps relaxing on deck for an hour or two.

  Dave Jansen, twenty-one years old and a new hire, was on his first trans-Atlantic voyage, and today he was enjoying the sun and the light breeze. He was standing by the rail and watching the waves slide past the hull only to lose their form and disappear in the white foam of the ships wake. After a few minutes, he leaned over the rail and looked straight down into the depths and saw the colors of the sea change from transparent bluish-green at the surface to blue-black as the water deepened, and then finally, at some depth unknown to him, to utter darkness.

  Meanwhile, three hundred feet below the Goddess of the Seas, the SSN Seawolf glided along a more northward path in absolute silence as it followed the North Atlantic Drift current. The Seawolf’s main propeller was stopped and the submarine’s control room was quiet as the passive sonar operator listened attentively to the sounds from above. He held up his hand for quiet while he listened and then suddenly clenched it tightly into a fist. The Goddess of the Seas, traveling at a computer-controlled twenty knots had passed directly overhead. Seconds later, the sound of its huge, churning propellers began to fade in the sonar operator’s headset.

  At the moment the Goddess of the Seas passed over the Seawolf, Dave Jansen was still peering intently into the water. It was the then that a strange feeling of danger came over him, if for only an instant. He wondered for a moment if he had seen something, the vague shape of something very large, pass beneath them. He shuddered and then looked up and turned towards the other side of the ship. There was nothing but blue water on the other side. He shook his head and smiled. No, he said to himself, there are a lot of dark shadows in the sea; that was probably just a darker shadow.

  “Sonar. Report,” the Captain of the Seawolf ordered.

  “Sir, target is fading. Bearing one two zero degrees true, range one thousand meters, speed twenty knots.”

  “Roger, Sonar. Communications, release the SATCOM antenna.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” the communications officer said and pushed a sequence of buttons that opened a small hatch on the aft deck of the submarine. Seconds later a balloon inflated and began rising to the surface. The balloon had a satellite communications antenna attached to the top and at the bottom a cable was attached that connected the antenna to the communications equipment in the submarine. The balloon floated quickly to the surface and less than a minute later the communications officer made his report.

  “Sir, communications. Antenna has broken the surface. Link established with NAVCOMSAT ONE. Communications quality is five stars.”

  “Roger, Comm.,” the Captain said and then he turned to President Cranston. “Sir we are connected. You may now use the secure telephone equipment in your stateroom to make calls to anywhere in the world.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” the President replied quietly. He appeared weary, and perhaps worried, to the Captain. They had only been at sea a few days. How long can he handle this? the Captain thought, life aboard a sub isn’t for everyone. The President’s wife was another matter. He knew she wasn’t going to last long. She had been taking medication frequently since they had departed New London and it seemed that she spent most of her time sleeping. The question was: what would the President do with her when she ran out of medicine? He knew they didn’t have anything like it on the boat.

  President Cranston closed the door of the stateroom, sat at the small metal desk, and picked up the secure voice telephone. He glanced over at Grace and saw that she was lying on the bed with her eyes closed. He began dialing.

  “Who are you calling, dear?” he heard her say.

  He put the phone down and turned back to her. “Grace! I thought you were asleep! How are you feeling? I just have to call a couple of people to see how things are going back home.”

  “Oh, I thought you had delegated everything to other people, Alan.”

  “Yes,” he said with a slight laugh, “but you know I always check up on people. You can’t just trust people to do a job right, you know. ”

  “I know,” she said. Then after a moment’s hesitation she continued, “Alan, where are we?”

  “We’re far out at sea, Grace. We’re safe here.”

  “Alan, I’m scared. Very scared. I don’t want to stay here much longer. It’s just, just…Alan, you have to get me out!”

  President Cranston stopped and thought about what she had said. It was clear that the closed-in environment of the submarine was taking a heavy toll on her in spite of the tranquilizers she was taking. He would have to change plans. This wasn’t going to work. Maybe they could get off in some very isolated place where the disease wouldn’t thrive. Maybe we should go to Greenland! he thought, I wonder…

  “OK, Grace,” he said, “I’ll see what I can do. OK? Just let me make these calls first.” She nodded her head and closed her eyes but he could see a tear slowly running down her cheek.

  A minute later he had dialed the number for Harry Fields at the CDC. “Harry,” he said, “this is President Cranston. Look, I need to make this quick. Give me progress report. Is there anything new?”

  “The only thing I know for sure,” Harry said, “is that your man Charlie Goodfellow is
a complete, goddamned idiot!”

  “What do you mean?” President Cranston said. He couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.

  “He tried to put some damn fool ID card system in place all over the country and that won’t ever work and now he has half the country mad at him!”

  “What?”

  “Damn right. Mr. President, I’m telling you that the people are ready to riot in the streets! He has half the army out now trying to keep order, but they can’t do it. It’s getting really unstable really fast, Mr. President.”

  President Cranston didn’t say anything for several seconds then he said, “OK, I’ll look into it. How about your own work? Any progress at CDC?”

  “We have a couple of things we’re looking at,” Harry said, “We’re testing vaccines. I think I already told you that I don’t see us making any kind of cure. We’re pretty far from that.”

  “So you don’t think there’s much hope of stopping the disease?”

  “Realistically, no. Not by us anyway. We got started too late and the disease just spreads too fast. Frankly, I don’t know what the hell to do. The other day I thought there might be a glimmer of hope, and I told Goodfellow about a friend of mine who says he has a vaccine, but Charlie just blew him off.”

  “What? He did? Why would he ever do that? Who is he?”

  “His name is Dan Quinn, he’s a researcher at University College Cork. In Ireland. He told me he has a working vaccine”

  “Ireland?”

  “Yeh.”

  “Come on, Harry.”

  “Yeh, I know. That’s pretty much what Charlie said too, but Dan tells me he has a vaccine that should work. I understand that he only has a small amount of vaccine on hand, but I imagine he could make more pretty easily. Maybe we should see what he has.”