by B. C. CHASE
“Now because they are so simple, viruses are parasitic. They must have a host to reproduce, in other words, viruses must infect living cells to reproduce. It is inside these cells that they replicate their DNA and produce new, infectious viruses.
“Now an interesting facet of this process is that more than one virus can replicate inside a single cell at the same time. When the virus replicates, transcription errors can produce mutations that can sometimes be beneficial to it, but it can also pick up genes from its host or from other viruses in the cell. So, what the virus ends up being is an amalgamation of the genes that were useful, both from random mutations and from its hosts or even from other viruses it might have met inside its host.
“Viruses also pass pieces of their DNA into their hosts, which then can be passed on to successive generations. The fastest-replicating viruses are RNA viruses. Influenza is an RNA virus. Because it replicates, and therefore mutates so quickly, it has transferred to different species very quickly.
“Now, to get to the point, you all know a mysterious virus killed a woman in Towson, Maryland, and we received samples for analysis. In fact, we now have the whole cadaver.”
“Now this virus that we're dealing with here, it's an RNA virus, so the first thing we know is that it has the capacity to mutate very quickly. This means that the way she received it might not be the way it is transferred next time, if there is a next time—God forbid. As it mutates, it might attack other types of tissue.
“We tested the samples and couldn't find a match for any known virus. So we sent samples to some respected labs overseas.
“One of those labs happens to have compared the virus to a database of all known genes. And I mean all known genes from living and non-living creatures. If anyone found a snippet of DNA anywhere, in a bacterium, in a bone, in an insect . . . anything at all, this database has it.”
“Yes, it's called 'A.R.K.'. Any lab can freely access it online,” Karen said, impatient.
“Yes, that's right. Well, the lab that ran the test just called me.” Doctor Compton paused because he knew what he was about to say was going to raise questions. And doubts.
“Well what were their results, Phil?” Karen said.
“This virus is very old.”
“Okay???”
“I mean very, very old.”
“How old, Phil.”
“Ancient.”
“So is influenza,” she said. “Hippocrates wrote about it. What's the big deal?
“No, I mean before that. Many of the genes from this virus are only shared with . . . .”
Everyone was staring at him in expectation. He couldn't believe that all his study, all his hard work, all the companies he had worked for, his appointment to the CDC . . . everything, had culminated in this: he had to say something preposterous. He finally let it out:
“Sauropods. This virus has genes matching sauropod DNA.”
A guy chewing gum and wearing a baseball cap said, “Sauropods? You mean ‘stomp, stomp,’ 'Welcome to Jurassic Park' sauropods?”
“Sauropods, yes; dinosaurs.”
Karen immediately interjected, “But a virus can only be transmitted between living things.”
“That is correct—well, HIV could survive for weeks in a corpse, and, given ideal conditions, some viruses could even survive for months outside a body, but, yes.”
“So whatever gave the virus to the woman must have been alive today.”
“Correct.”
Karen leaned forward, “What I'm trying to get at is, she couldn't have sat on a rock that a dinosaur happened to have touched a long time ago and picked up a virus from that.”
“That is correct. A virus doesn't sit around for thousands or millions of years waiting to infect someone. It needs a host. She probably had to have touched or been in close proximity to the original carrier of the virus.”
Karen looked at him with one brow raised. “Phil, really? Are you saying she touched a dinosaur?”
“What I mean is she would have had to touch something that was alive today and was carrying the virus. Not a dinosaur.”
Karen sat back. “Regardless, this sounds impossible.”
Doctor Compton nodded. “It certainly seems like it would be.” Suddenly, Doctor Compton's phone rang. He looked at the screen and recognized the number. He apologized, “I have to take this; it's St. Joseph's.”
He answered, feeling everyone watching him expectantly while he listened to the person on the other end. After he hung up, he said, “They say the pathologist's assistant at the hospital has the virus. It appears our worst fears are true: the virus has transmitted.”
There was a hushed silence in the room for a moment. Then Karen said, “Everyone needs to understand that, so far, the people in Maryland have refused to take this thing seriously. But, as you’ve just heard, it’s deadly serious. Unless the President adds this virus to a list for which we can quarantine, we are entirely at the mercy of the states for containment. Maryland has not reacted with the urgency they should, and that is why I've gone to the White House—to get quarantine authority in advance.”
She stood up, and said calmly, “Starting now, we're in national health crisis mode. This is command central: every piece of information, every directive passes through this gate. First, I want quarantines. No one comes or goes from St. Joseph's until I say so. Send a team down there; call the police, whatever you need to do. And I want anyone who so much as looked at the original victim within the last week quarantined. This is an unprecedented situation, we are going to take unprecedented steps.
“Now I know you guys are used to doing research, but I want containment. I don't care if we never know how this thing got here as long as nobody else gets it. Flex your muscle first and ask if you had the authority later. There will be hell to pay if this becomes a nightmare on my watch. We must exude confidence. No Ebola repeat. Am I clear?”
Everyone nodded, except for the ball-cap guy, who said, “But we don't know anything about it. We can't really label it a national health crisis until we have done research.”
Karen gave him such a severe look that he stopped chewing his gum. “I don't know who you are.”
He volunteered, “Guy Giordano.”
She rolled her eyes, “And I didn't want to know. But my name is Karen Harigold, I'm Secretary of Health and Human Services, and it's a freaking national health crisis because I said it's a freaking national health crisis. Got it?”
“Yeah,” the guy murmured.
“And, Doctor Compton?”
“Yes?”
“Call the news channel. Tell them about the St. Joe's quarantine. Anonymously.”
“Just as long as I don't end up with an espionage charge like James Rosen.”
“Very funny,” she said. “I hardly think you're on the top of the President's hit list.” Then she struck out for the door. “I'll be back ASAP.”
Doctor Compton asked, “Where are you going?”
She spun around and swore: “I'm going to the White House to get my quarantine order.”
St. Joseph's Medical Center
Sarah Rodriguez and Doctor Burwell sat across from one another at a desk in the quarantine area. They were talking over a meal of hospital food somebody had brought for them. Their first date, really, Doctor Burwell thought to himself. And they were both having a good time, until Sarah suddenly grimaced.
“What's wrong?” Doctor Burwell asked.
“My stomach. I don't think it likes these noodles.”
“You want some Pepto? I'll call for them to bring some over.”
“Thanks,” she managed to smile appreciatively.
Doctor Burwell picked up the phone and dialed four digits. “Hey, yeah. Can somebody send some—” Doctor Burwell stopped.
Sarah cried out, reaching for his arm, “John!”
She had never used his first name before. But now, she was squeezing him with a surprisingly warm hand and gasping in what appeared to be terrible pain.
Doctor Burwell yelled into the phone, “We need help now!”
Sarah's sallow eyes were rolling as her head dropped to her chest. Doctor Burwell rushed around the table to hold her up, but she slipped into unconsciousness. He wrapped both arms under her and lifted her up to carry her to a nearby bed.
Doctor Kingsley entered the area wearing a mask and gown, followed by a team of doctors. Doctor Burwell knew enough to stay out of their way as they flew into a blur of activity. Just as they were attaching the patches from the respiratory monitor, Sarah opened her eyes and cried out in agony, vomit gushing from her mouth and nose.
United Nations Security Council
Doctor Martin continued, “A neighbor of mine, originally from Russia, told me about something very strange that had happened. Her son was deployed in the navy to the North Sea. He had left his childhood dog at home in her care.
“One day, the dog began to whimper and run back and forth, very agitated. She didn't know what the matter was, so she took it outdoors. That did not help. It continued in this fashion until she became convinced that it was ill, so she took it to a veterinarian. There was nothing physically wrong with the animal, but upon their return, it simply lay down on the floor and wouldn't move. It stayed like this for days, not eating, just lying and letting out an occasional whimper.
“At the end of a week, she was contacted by the navy. There had been a horrific accident on her son's submarine. The vessel had sunk and the entire crew was lost.
“She told me that the moment the accident happened is the moment the dog became agitated.
“Effectually, the dog knew, without a doubt, that its best friend had died, and, by all appearances, furthermore knew the exact moment when the danger first struck.
“As a biologist who has held senior academic posts most of my adult life, I was dumfounded by the refusal of my colleagues in the scientific community to take this seriously. What are we afraid of? Are the implications too terrifying for scrutiny?
“Whatever the case, I proceeded with research. First, I looked into all the information I could on the subject; all the examples of animal intuition.
“It turns out they are everywhere, right before our eyes. You don't have to look at all. Someone simply must give you a tap on your shoulder.”
The White House
“Where is the President?” Karen asked, her hands on her hips.
“He's in his private study, if you must know,” Abael replied, calm as always. She strode right past him, but he maneuvered his electric wheelchair around to block her. “I must ask you to stop.”
“Get out of my way, you freak,” Karen said, stomping past. She opened the door off the oval office and walked down the corridor to the private study. She didn't bother to knock, but swung the door open and stomped in.
What she saw stopped her dead.
The President was sitting at his desk against the wall to the left. He was staring at a large monitor displaying a group of uniformed officers with a Chinese flag in the background and the characters PLA in front. The President was obviously having a dialogue with them.
Foreign policy wasn't her area of expertise, but she wasn't an idiot, either. The President was talking with the People's Liberation Army of China, a country with which military cooperation would have been unthinkable due to less than amicable relations of late stemming from friction in the South China Sea.
She said, “Robert?”
The President, looking bewildered, immediately switched off the monitor. “What is it, Karen?”
“There's something . . . I need to show you something.” Eying him uneasily, she strode to a screen in the corner and turned it on to the news channel.
On the monitor, the anchor was saying, “--Medical Center in Towson, Maryland, where a quarantine is underway. You can see the police have arrived and, we are told, also the Centers for Disease Control. On the scene now is Fox's Lisa Hamilton. Lisa, what's the situation in Towson?”
“While officials here will not speak to anyone, we have received information from an anonymous source that the hospital is under quarantine due to a virus of some sort. The source stressed that the public should not be alarmed, but that a mysterious virus reminiscent of Swine Flu has turned up there and the hospital has been quarantined. And, while no one will speak to us here, it is quite clear that the hospital will not be accepting any new patients. Police have been cordoning off the area, and it is surrounded—”
Karen muted the television station. “Mr. President, this is an illegal quarantine, but I ordered it. I ordered it because I gave Abael an executive order for you to sign that would have authorized it two days ago. Even though he said he'd send it back to me yesterday, I never got it.”
The President looked apologetic, “I'm sorry, Karen. I've been a little . . .”
“With all due respect Mr. President, what could possibly deserve your attention more than this?” she motioned to the screen.
The President took a heavy breath and looked off to the side, appearing solemn. “Preparations.”
“For what?” Karen asked almost breathlessly. She was suddenly not feeling nearly as important as she had before. In fact, although she would never admit it, she now felt a little unnerved. Especially when she felt Abael's presence behind her and turned to see him warning the President of the United States with a dark, icy gaze.
The President raised his eyes and gazed directly at her, “You will know. When the time is right, you will all know.”
Karen raised her hand to her hairline, gripped by a sudden headache. She lowered her hand and said, “If it's something more important than a national health crisis, don't you think you should have a meeting with your cabinet? Don't you think we should be prepared, too?”
The President nodded slowly. “I have given that a lot of consideration. I certainly would not leave you in the dark unless it was absolutely necessary.”
Although feeling less secure, Karen braced herself and demanded, “Why are you talking with the freaking People's Liberation Army? What is going on, Robert?”
Abael interrupted, holding up the signed executive order, “Here's the signed order. I'm so sorry I didn't have this brought over to you yesterday, Karen.”
She eyed Abael distrustfully but snatched it from his rigid grip.
The President said, “Thank you for coming over, Karen. Now, please, I was in a meeting.”
After she had left, the President turned to Abael, “You know, a man who has only five bucks to his name spends them differently than a man who thinks he has a full bank account. Don't the people have a right to know?”
“You know as well as I do that if they wished to be illuminated, they could be. The truth has been self-evident for all of history, but modern man has decided to turn a blind eye. They choose to be ignorant for the simple reason that they don't want to know.”
Paradeisia Airport
Aubrey immediately spotted the source of the voice: a short man, overweight, wearing a beige, short-sleeved safari shirt with huge pockets. On his head was a pith helmet, and he had a giant belt, giant shorts, and giant boots. His face was plump to the extent that he had no jawline, and it was cleanly shaved except for a fluffy, white mustache. His eager, smiling eyes peered out from under huge bushy eyebrows.
The man strode over to Lady Shrewsbury and, removing his hat to reveal a bald head with a crop of white around the crown, gave her a bear hug, much to her consternation. “I've been begging you to come for how long now! And at long last you're here!”
Lady Shrewsbury brushed her pantsuit, regaining her dignity, and said, “Very well, Ignatius. But we haven't come on holiday, you know. We want to see what you've done with this place. But first, you must meet Mr. Potter.”
“But yes, yes indeed!” the man exclaimed, eying all the suited men at once.
Henry stuck out his hand, “I am Henry—”
But before he could finish, the man scurried to him and shook his hand very vigorously, “Mr.
Harry Potter himself!”
“Henry Potter, Henry,” Henry corrected, being jostled by the energetic handclasp.
“It's truly a pleasure to meet you, my good man! And an honor, too, I daresay, what with your reputation! I hope you have plenty of time over the next week as I've planned a delightful turn around every nook, every cranny, I say, of the island.”
Lady Shrewsbury, with a grunt and a slyly raised brow, said, “Mr. Potter, as you've gathered by now, this is my nephew, Fitzgerald Ignatius Jinkins.”
Jinkins, who was still shaking away at Henry's hand, turned his face up to him with a childish grin, “The one-and-only, the one-and-only, sir!”
Lady Shrewsbury examined Jinkins closely and said, “Merciful heavens, Ignatius. You are looking very well. I believe you look almost younger than the last time we met.”
“Indeed do I? Well that is very good news, very good news indeed! But not a surprise! Paradeisia is so very invigorating, and by invigorating I do mean like the very Tree of Life!” He chuckled, “After all, it is ‘Eden on Earth.’”
Henry said, “Yes, well, I was going to say that unfortunately I will be leaving tomorrow for important business in China, so if you could curtail the tour. . . .”
“Curtail the tour?” Jinkins said as if it was the most dreadful and inexplicable thing he had ever heard. “Oh, but Mr. Potter, this is the most fantastical place in the world—another world entirely, in fact, and it would be—” he interrupted himself, saying with frustration, “Well I couldn't possibly curtail the tour!” His face went pink.
Henry looked up and took an impatient breath, “My visit to China is urgent.”
Jinkins looked from person to person, blinking in consternation, until he finally clasped his hands together and smiled, “Well, we'll just take the tour up where we left off, upon your return!” He then proceeded to go around the group and make the acquaintance of every person, including Aubrey, who immediately appreciated his grandfatherly demeanor. Then he stood in front of them, “Now all of you follow me. Since your business is so very urgent, Mr., Potter, the tour begins soon—” he giggled, as he plopped his helmet on, “and by 'soon' I mean now!”