The Fog

by James Herbert

‘The micro-organisms cause inflammation of the brain substance and covering membranes, eventually leading to a breakdown of existing healthy brain cells and a build-up of new, parasitical cells. The stronger the parasites become, the more easily the healthy cells are “devoured”. Hence the complete and utter mental breakdown of whoever contracts the disease. Eventually, the victim would become a vegetable, capable of no action at all.’

  ‘But what about me?’ Holman exclaimed, unable to hold back. ‘Why didn’t I become a vegetable?’

  Professor Ryker regarded him with a faint smile. ‘You have been a very fortunate young man,’ he said, then looking at Janet Halstead again. ‘I believe Mrs Halstead we have some idea of what saved you by now, but there is a little more to it.’

  The Principal Medical Officer spoke up. ‘Mr Holman was given a blood transfusion because of an injury he sustained during his attack. I assume this helped clear the bloodstream of the foreign cells.’

  ‘Precisely, Mrs Halstead,’ the Professor nodded. ‘It helped the existing cells destroy the parasites, rather like a regiment that has been sent reinforcements. Luckily for Mr Holman, he received the transfusion before the parasitical cells had a chance to multiply. But he was also lucky in another respect.

  ‘Like most organisms used in germ warfare, the Broadmeyer Mutation, as it was secretly called, was self-reproducing. All it needed was carbon dioxide, the simple element that is contained in the very air we breathe and it could grow and grow, or I should say, multiply itself. Mr Holman was exposed to it in the early stages of its process for it had just been released in its pure form, therefore it was comparatively weak. The vapour, or fog as you have called it, is a by-product of the process it goes through as it draws the carbon dioxide from the air. This in itself is strange, for normally an organism that lives on carbon dioxide and precious little else must be photosynthetic, and would require sunlight to live and multiply. Now, mycoplasmas lack a cell wall, the mycoplasma being bounded only by the delicate plasma membrane – which means they can only survive and grow in an osmotically protective environment – hence they live as a large group in order to protect their inner core from changes in osmotic pressure. So you see the contradiction: they should need sunlight to exist, yet they surrounded themselves with this strange mist. Only Broadmeyer, as the creator of this mutation, knew the answer. And unfortunately, he is dead, killed by the disease he made.

  ‘As I have said, he was an irresponsible man. I consider him irresponsible for ever producing such a mutation, but he was also irresponsible in smaller ways. He was careless and allowed himself to be exposed to the mycoplasma. Naturally, he went mad. And in his madness he destroyed all his papers, notes, the work of years, not just on the mutated mycoplasma, but other projects, more admirable conceptions, completely and utterly wasted. He died a lunatic, a victim of his own creation, and with him, he took many secrets.

  ‘The mutation was contained and, like many others produced in the name of germ warfare, was considered too dangerous to use. Perhaps Lieutenant General Macklen would care to tell you what happened to it?’ He raised his eyebrows towards the Vice-Chief of the General Staff.

  ‘We can hardly wait to hear,’ Sir Trevor Chambers said caustically.

  ‘Sir Trevor,’ warned the Home Secretary.

  ‘Before we do,’ Janet Halstead broke in hastily, ‘may I ask Professor Ryker a question about the cure? I think it’s more important than anything else at the moment, wouldn’t you agree?’

  The Home Secretary nodded and said, ‘Carry on.’

  ‘You confirm that blood transfusion is the answer then, Professor?’ she asked Ryker.

  ‘Yes, provided it is given in time. If the parasite cells have taken on too strong a hold in the brain, then new blood will be of no use at all. Mr Holman here was fortunate in that they hadn’t been given time to develop; they were easily overcome by the stronger existing cells. But once they have a grip . . .’ He spread his hands and shrugged in a gesture of futility.

  ‘But what if we use radiology to burn out the bad cells?’

  ‘Y-e-s. Yes.’ He drew out the words, his mind absorbing the thought. ‘It’s a possibility. But it’s always dangerous; other good cells can be damaged by this method. Extreme care would have to be taken. And remember, nothing can ever be done about healthy cells that have been damaged either by the parasites or the X-ray. They will never grow again.’

  ‘No, but it’s a chance worth taking,’ she said.

  ‘Of course, you could never expect to treat everybody who contracts the disease in this way. I mean to say, there just aren’t the resources.’ Lord Gibbon shook his head in despair.

  ‘No, we could never treat everyone in this way.’ Janet Halstead looked around the room. ‘But now it’s your job to see that we don’t have to. You have to destroy the mycoplasma!’

  She allowed no time for them to comment on her last statement. She turned to Holman. ‘John, I’m going back to the Research Centre. I want to give Miss Simmons a blood transfusion and if necessary subject her to radiology and, as her father is unable to, I think I should seek permission to do so from you.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Holman answered. ‘Whatever she needs – do it!’

  She patted his shoulder as she rose from the table. ‘Excuse me, gentlemen, I have some lives to save. And a lot to organize. I trust you’ll keep me informed?’

  Professor Ryker suppressed an admiring grin as she marched from the room.

  The Home Secretary cleared his throat. ‘There is another question that I would like to ask; it could have a bearing on something to be discussed later.’ He looked at Ryker. ‘Once a person has successfully overcome the disease, would that person then be immune from further attacks?’

  The professor pondered over the question. Finally he said, ‘It would seem likely, although I’d value Mrs Halstead’s opinion on this. Once the body’s system has beaten off a disease, it builds some, or often total, resistance against it, and in this case, where the mutated mycoplasma would be virtually flushed from the system in the early stages and the unwanted cells in the brain killed before they had a chance to form, as they have in Mr Holman’s case, then, yes, I believe one could be made immune from further attacks. The theory would have to be tested, of course, but the body has an acute sense of self-preservation, you know. It builds its own defences.’

  ‘And is this, er, disease infectious?’ Sir Trevor Chambers asked, carefully avoiding Holman’s eyes. ‘Could Mr Holman pass it on to others?’

  ‘Well, that doesn’t appear to have happened, does it?’ Ryker answered with a restrained smile. ‘My opinion is that the DNA – the genetic material – of the organism immediately combines with the DNA of brain cells, in a manner similar to that in which cancer-causing viruses are believed to join up with cellular material. In the case of cancer-causing viruses, of course, the extra genetic material can lie dormant for years until something triggers it off. I suggest that in the case of Broadmeyer’s mutated organism, the DNA produces extremely malignant cells almost at once, which cause the untoward effects which make the organism non-infective.

  ‘Our problem is that we do not even know enough about mycoplasma in its normal state, let alone when it has been tampered with. I shall tell you briefly of what we do know. Also called PPLO – pleuropneumonia-like organisms – mycoplasmas include the smallest known cells able to multiply independently of other living cells, some being almost spherical and only 0.001 mm in diameter. The chromosome of many probably contains not more than 650 genes – about one-fifth the number found in common bacteria – and from the physiological and biochemical viewpoint microplasmas are similar to bacteria, with the one important exception I’ve already mentioned: they lack a cell wall.’ Ryker paused to look around at the blank faces.

  He continued, his next words cutting through the incomprehension like a knife. ‘This means, because they are not restricted by this rigid wall, they can be deformed and are able to squeeze through narrow pores smaller than
their own diameter. It also means they are completely resistant to penicillin and any other substances which act by disrupting the synthesis of bacterial cell walls!’

  An uneasy silence flooded, broken finally by Sir Trevor clearing his throat. ‘Er, you mean there is no cure?’ he asked.

  ‘No, no. We will find one,’ Ryker assured them all, ‘but to produce a serum, we need to know exactly how the mycoplasma has been mutated.’

  ‘But surely you must have some idea?’ said the Defence Minister.

  ‘Oh, I have an idea. But do we have the time to experiment with and develop ideas?’ He spoke as though to a child who had asked a foolish question and was being given a kind answer. ‘No. But we may draw off some of the organism from the living victims. Then we could analyse it, discover its contents and then develop a serum. But of course, to manufacture it in bulk would take time. And we do not have too much time, do we?’ He looked around at them, then added, ‘Of course, if we had some of the mutated mycoplasma in its pure state, then it would be an enormous advantage.’

  ‘Well, what’s to prevent us from containing some of the fog?’ Douglas-Glyne, the Defence Under-Secretary, asked impatiently.

  ‘I said “in its pure state”. The fog, apart from being a mutated organism, now contains carbon dioxide and various other impurities. I suspect the yellowish colour is due to the pollution in the air – our own man-made pollution. To sort out all these elements to find the mutated mycoplasma in its purest form would take time.’

  ‘This is leading on to our next point, gentlemen,’ said the Home Secretary. ‘I’d like to get back to Lieutenant-General Macklen. Sir Keith, would you tell us how the virus had been contained?’

  ‘And how it escaped!’ snorted Sir Trevor Chambers.

  Sir Keith Macklen rose to his feet as though to address the officers on his staff.

  ‘The Broadmeyer Mycoplasma,’ he began, purposely avoiding Professor Ryker’s name for it, ‘was contained in a sealed-off room in small glassed steel containers. Broadmeyer had disturbed one of the vials and dislodged its cap while carrying out experiments on an animal – a rabbit I think. Anyway, he noticed the dislodged cap, replaced it and left the sealed room. It took a while for him to become insane. As Professor Ryker said, it was in its purest form and he was only exposed for a few seconds, before it had time to strengthen itself from the air, but when he did, he went under very fast.

  ‘He destroyed his work and killed a fellow scientist in the process. Then he became – a nothing. His brain hardly functioned, he neither saw nor heard anything. He died soon after by his own hand!

  ‘We decided the mutation was too dangerous ever to be used so we had to get rid of it. There were three ways of doing this: destroy it, dump it in the sea, or bury it below ground.’

  ‘My God!’ said Sir Trevor, exhaling a long breath. ‘And you decided to bury it!’

  ‘Er, not me, Sir Trevor. My superiors at that time. It was fifteen years ago, remember.’

  ‘Carry on, Sir Keith,’ said the Home Secretary.

  ‘Well, we couldn’t destroy it; we didn’t know what it was exactly. And we couldn’t dump it in the sea; we considered that was too risky. So we buried it. Very, very deep below ground, in glassed steel vials inside a strong, lead container.’

  ‘Under the village,’ said Holman, not a question, but a statement.

  ‘Certainly not! The exact location was a quarter of a mile away from the village.’ He looked at Holman with annoyance.

  ‘Go on, Sir Keith,’ said the Home Secretary again, keeping a tight rein on the meeting, refusing to allow it to become heated in any way.

  ‘Records were made concerning the mycoplasma’s potential and its location, and filed away. Fifteen years ago, as I said. Er, now . . .’ He hesitated, looking at the expressionless faces, reluctant to continue. ‘Er, up until a few weeks ago, the army has been carrying out some underground explosive tests—’

  ‘I knew it!’ Sir Trevor exploded, leaping to his feet. ‘Trust the bloody army! The whole of Salisbury Plain and you have to pick the bloody spot where you planted a deadly disease fifteen years before!’

  ‘We most certainly did not! Our experiment was at least two miles from there!’

  ‘Then how do you account for the eruption in the village?’

  ‘Sir Trevor, please sit down!’ the Home Secretary ordered sharply. ‘I’ve already warned you. This meeting will not become a dispute. We are here to find a solution! Sir Keith – please continue.’

  ‘We were experimenting with a powerful new explosive. It was one of many we have carried out below ground for the past twenty years now. Many countries use this method to test the power of their bombs. Would you rather we blew up the countryside?’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t test bombs at all,’ Sir Trevor retorted.

  ‘Apparently, the bomb – I’m afraid I can’t tell you the nature of the explosive – caused a running fissure below the earth. It was this that caused the eruption and released the mycoplasma.’

  ‘Do you mean to tell me you have a bomb that can cause that sort of damage two miles away?’ asked Sir Trevor incredulously.

  ‘Yes. Although we didn’t know it at the time,’ answered the Chief of the General Staff, careful to keep any hint of pride from his voice. ‘The earth was ruptured severely around the blast, but the fissure that caused most damage ran for several miles. It must have reached the point where the mycoplasma was housed in its lead case, the force of the earth crushed it open, the tremor continued on its way until it found its way to the surface under the village, the mycoplasma being pushed along with it. We assume it was the mutation, already polluted and creating its own gas that was seen emerging from the fissure.’

  ‘Why do you assume that?’ asked Holman.

  ‘Because we have been checking through our records most of the day – since we heard a poisonous gas may have been involved – of all our deposited stocks. We found that particular stock was directly in line with the fissure.’

  ‘And you’ve known all this time it was your explosion that caused the earthquake?’ asked Sir Trevor accusingly.

  He nodded, avoiding the many eyes that glared at him as though he were solely responsible.

  The Home Secretary spoke before anyone else had a chance to. ‘We knew and we decided no good could come of its disclosure. Until today, that is. Thank you, Sir Keith.’ The Vice-Chief of the General Staff sat down, relieved that his statement was over, and the Home Secretary continued ‘Gentlemen, we know most of the facts now. This is not the time for reprisals, but let me stress that human error of this magnitude will not be tolerated. That is all that is going to be said on that particular issue at this time, but I can assure you,’ he looked towards Sir Trevor, ‘it will be looked into thoroughly after we have made progress in defeating the present threat. Now, let’s get on with it.

  ‘We have lost the battle to prevent the fog entering Winchester; fortunately all the residents have been evacuated in time.’

  ‘How did you try to stop it?’ Holman asked.

  ‘Perhaps you will tell us, William?’ The Home Secretary turned to the Under-Secretary of State for Defence for the Army, William Douglas-Glyne.

  ‘Yes. There are four principal methods of dealing with fog. The method we’ve been using today, all day, is sprinkling calcium chloride from low-flying aircraft, a practice used in San Francisco regularly to clear their fogs. It’s a chemical that actually dries up the air, but although we’ve used tons of the stuff it hasn’t had much effect. Very expensive method too, I might add. Some of the vapour was cleared but, as we now know, the gas is self-producing; it just goes on manufacturing itself.

  ‘Have you tried the other methods?’ asked Sir Trevor.

  ‘Not yet, we’ve had little time. And anyway, the calcium chloride was the most favoured. Let me tell you about the other ways and you’ll understand. During the war, our airfields had what was called the F100 system, another expensive process and little used si
nce. With radar, fog isn’t much of a problem nowadays, but this is what they used to do: they manned the air around the airfield with petrol in special devices; as it became warmer it absorbed more moisture and the droplets of liquid turned to invisible water vapour, dispersing the fog and forming a hole above the airfield through which aircraft could land.

  ‘Now, apart from not having enough time to set up such an elaborate system around the town, all we would have succeeded in doing is divert the fog – not get rid of it.

  ‘Another method is to use ultrasonic waves. Rapid to and fro movements produced by vibrations in the air tend to cause the tiny water droplets to collect together, forming drops that are large enough to fall as rain. The disadvantage of this method is that the force of the sound waves we would have had to have used could have been harmful to living things. And again, now we know it would be useless because of the self-productive factor.’

  He paused, looking down at his notes, reluctant to look at the troubled faces around him.

  ‘And the last method?’ the Home Secretary prodded.

  ‘The last method is no good at all. It involves the use of carbon dioxide and, of course, the organism thrives on this. If sprinkled on fog, it causes the water droplets to freeze and join together, making them heavy enough to fall to the ground, but in this case the mycoplasma would just “feed” on it.’

  ‘Are you telling us there’s nothing we can do?’ asked Sir Trevor incredulously.

  ‘We are still looking at other methods,’ came the somewhat feeble reply.

  ‘I’m sure we have enough top brains in this country to find a solution,’ said the Home Secretary. ‘As well as our own, we also have scientific institutes in America, Russia and France searching for the answer. The major powers of the world are working for us. Even China has approached us with an offer of assistance. Remember, there is nothing to prevent the fog from drifting out to sea and reaching other countries; the threat is not with us alone, although we are in the most immediate danger.

  ‘The fact that it could virtually depopulate a town the size of Bournemouth has made the danger clear to every country in the world. If it has done any good at all, it’s in the fact that the major powers now have a common enemy.