He faded and came around again. "What did you think when you sat with him in the airport? Did you hold his hand? Did you wish, just for a moment, that he was me dying here, and me him, and healthy?"
He looked so evil suddenly. His cruel words brought tears even though she knew they were not truly spoken by him. "Why are you so obsessed with Maryk?" she said.
He was silent a while, and still; oozing. The redness of his eyes made the tears dammed along the rims appear like blood, and for a moment, just for a moment, he looked like a despairing saint. He looked like Stephen Pearse again. "I thought you would have guessed by now," he said, with deathly pride in his voice. "I am Peter Maryk's conscience. I am that black heart he keeps locked away."
The Fire
The work cubicles of the C complex lab in the Genetic Engineering section of Building Four were constructed of floor-to-ceiling reinforced glass. Geist sat on a wheeled stool inside the immaculate bell of the center work station while Maryk paced in front of him. A row of pencils stood like sentinels in the front pocket of Geist's lab coat. The photograph on his laminated ID tag had been taken before the laboratory accident that caused his radiation exposure. In it Geist still possessed a mop of straw-colored hair.
Maryk gave him the condensed version of Zero's creation and evolution and watched the man's already pale face blanch to distress.
What sold Geist on the story were the gaps it filled in the news accounts of the World Congress Center and Hartsfield airport outbreaks.
Geist contemplated the structural discrepancies in the Zero virus comparisons Maryk had put up on the station monitors. "Absurdly active," said Geist. "Fracturing itself and refracturing, almost like a zipper."
"It originated from a radiation exposure in a central African cave."
Geist took another took at the before-and-after scans.
"It could conceivably be reinfecting its human host with each genetic shift."
"Not a host," Maryk said. "The virus battled the original host's body to equilibrium. Plainville has infiltrated and converted every one of this man's cells. Host and virus are one and the same."
"But the virus has shifted too much for the human half. It must now be consuming its own body."
"Would you say the virus is mutating out of control?"
"The deviations are dynamic, arrant-like a human going from two arms to one, or three. Mutations are a terrific shock to the system."
"And enough of them..."
Geist nodded. "This virus is going to mutate itself right out of business. When too much damage has been done to the gene core, it will no longer be able to reproduce."
"And without the ability to reproduce, a virus is no longer a virus."
"Dead matter, incapable of infection. But this takes time. "Yes," Maryk agreed pointedly.
"Time."
Geist sat back and crossed his arms as slowly as any man Maryk had ever seen. "Why come to me now?" he said. "A man colonized by an iatrogenic mutation of an immunopathic retrovirus. A humanized virus vector poised to infect the world."
"An artist was once asked, 'If your studio was burning to the ground, and you could only save one thing, what would it be?" Geist shook his head impatiently.
"The true artist brings out the fire. I want to bring out the fire here, Geist. I want to isolate this flame by depriving it of oxygen, so I can stamp it out."
The old distrust had returned. "With what?"
"Time. I need you to brew something for me, and I need it fast."
Geist crooked his head for a different angle on Maryk. Then he grinned. "A bug," he said. "You want to counterinfect. You want a bug you can deliver to Zero."
"No," Maryk said. "To Atlanta. I want to infect the city before Zero does."
Geist's informed grin fell. Maryk said, "A virus needs hosts. It travels only on the backs of others, through contact and exchange. Tonight is New Year's Eve-the single biggest night of casual human interaction. We've got to break up the party. We've got to eliminate Zero's transmission by keeping people apart."
Geist said, "You want to give Atlanta a city wide flu?"
"Zero is peaking. He is dying and his virus is failing in time. He's gone underground now because he is sick. He is resting somewhere in order to build up his strength for a night of widespread infection. He is ready to touch off a pandemic that will engulf the human race. I need to starve him out so I can find him and eliminate him. I need to shut down the city and its inhabitants for a day or two."
"So go out over the airwaves. Get Bobby Chiles on the news --"
"Not enough. Even with the public fear of the virus, you know there are some who would still ignore our warnings, and that's all Zero needs. I need something that will hit the city fast and knock it down hard."
Geist's hand went slowly to rub his bald head. "Insane," he said.
"Drastic. And desperate. And necessary."
"I'm here to prevent disease."
Maryk nodded. "Exactly." Geist massaged his scalp like a man polishing a brass orb. "I suppose you'd want ninety-eight to one hundred percent infectivity. Say, deliverable in a minute dose, and able to tolerate diverse environments. With no available antidote."
"That's right."
"So would every army of every nation in the world.
They call them 'biological weapons,' and I'd sooner trust something like this to them than to you."
"This is what you do here, Geist: You bend nature into your bow. This planet is seething with ignorant hosts, and if we don't stop Zero here in Atlanta, today, it's over. It's all over."
Geist burned as he rubbed his head. He ruminated and polished and sighed. "There might be something." Seconds ticked away while Geist studied Maryk warily. "Two years ago. A bug that burned through half the North Korean Army."
Maryk recalled the news stories. "Came up out of the jungle and went right down again. Half the border went unmanned for two or three days."
"Incontinence, some variable nausea. But generally, extreme fatigue. Shuts the body down into a deep sleep. Headaches, discomfort, but no real pain and no lingering effects. Nasty but clean. Dedicated. Airborne."
Maryk said, "It has to be rock solid."
"It's a reliable DNA virus. Steady as a halfback, though I'd want another good look to be certain."
"Fast?"
"Extraordinarily virulent. It gets anything with lungs, yet it burns clean, and exposure confers immunity. Once you get it, you can never get it again."
"How much do we have?"
"Mere samples. But I could trick it up and replicate it easily enough."
"And test it against Plainville. Make certain there's no virus-beneficial cross-reaction. Zero's mutating fast, and open to change, and I don't want him to encounter something that would only add to his arsenal."
"But how will you stop it from spreading beyond Atlanta?"
"Leave that to me. My only concern now is speed."
"I'd have to pull this thing out of deep freeze in Thirteen. Look it over, shore it up. Engineer copies. But I haven't said yes yet."
"I'll give you one hour."
Geist shook his head. "You're talking about the wholesale infection of a U.S. city. There are certain philosophical concerns. I like to be able to sleep at night."
But Geist clearly was intrigued. Maryk saw in Geist's face the seditious eyes of a true man of science.
"Just how do you plan on infecting all of metro Atlanta today?" Geist said.
Maryk strode to the glass door. "]Leave that to me."
Maryk posted Freeley from his office and instructed her to stall the BioCon cleanup and keep the airport shut down into the night. She was to establish checkpoints along every highway outside the city and await his instructions.
He called up a map of metro Atlanta His target area extended beyond the metro 1-285 loop, from Roswell to Smyrna, down to Union City, through Riverdale and Panthersville and out to Stone Mountain, and back north again through Decatur and Duluth.
He scanned Atlanta for pl
aces Zero might seek out as primary targets.
He pulled down population distributions by metropolitan district and accessed the departments of public works network. He highlighted every regional waterworks station. He had to think like a virus now. Maryk could get into places Zero could only dream of.
He tapped into the BDC's Genetech computer and traced the flow of air through all thirteen on-campus buildings back to a below ground central air-conditioning system. The Tank and other negative-air-pressure security labs were supplied independently and could be spared.
He dialed Suzy Lumen and had Zero's computer trace rerouted directly to his own tablet. He would be paged automatically in the event of any unauthorized access.
He checked the Atlanta Bureau of Tourism home page. The international Star Fleet Convention of the hinge Enterprise Church was due to kick off at noon that day with a service at Turner Stadium.
Eighty-five thousand devotees were expected to attend.
He consulted the National Weather Service last. Heavy rain was forecast for midday over most of the city. Maryk grinned at his great good fortune.
Geist was wearing a contact suit now and dark circles owled his browless eyes inside the hood. Engineers milled about the labs outside the glass walls of the work station and he watched them conspiratorially. "The Korean virus is lock-solid," he said, "or as lock-solid as any virus can be. Nasty little spud. A real runt virus. Tenacious."
Maryk turned the sealed petri dish over and over in his gloved hand and the translucent fluid slid around with the consistency of corn syrup.
"I'll need heavy concentrations, both liquid and crystal."
"Being worked up now."
Maryk brimmed with nervous energy. "Did you take a look at the Zero sample?"
"No reaction to plants. Human cells, it infects as before. And I can see the genetic resemblance to smallpox. It's remarkable." Geist breathed deeply inside his suit. "The vast, vast majority of the population will survive this. I truly believe that. But there will be ramifications."
"All area hospitals are being alerted to Biohazard 2 as we speak."
"What about the BDC?"
"Every potential host must be removed from Zero's grasp. Air-conditioning gives me a direct pipeline into each building."
"What about Building Thirteen? Certain things have to be looked after."
"The Genetech runs the bug vault. It will preserve security there and keep all the stored pathogens in deepfreeze. This is all or nothing, Geist. Anything less than the entire metro population means failure."
Geist nodded inside his hood. "What about Zero? I combined this thing with his virus, and there were no fireworks. But what if it puts him to sleep too?"
"Just as well. His virus will break down while he sleeps. My hunch is that he's holed up in a car somewhere, hiding in the dark, an underground garage probably, medicating himself and conserving his strength for tonight. I think it will miss him completely."
"And what about the girl?"
Maryk had been holding the dish up to the ceiling lights. He lowered his arm and returned the solution to the counter. "What girl?"
"The look on your face," said Geist. "The girl you've been taking around with you everywhere, of course. A hostile antisocial such as yourself. Who is she? A patient?"
The chill of failure threatened to envelop Maryk again. He reminded himself that Melanie Weir was a small price to pay for the preservation of the human race. He answered, "Not anymore."
Geist had more to say but Maryk was no longer listening. He was moving toward the glass door.
Atlanta
The twin-engine planes took off from De Kalb Peachtree Airport around ten o'clock that morning. They flew in shifts, climbing high over the city and punching through the gathering clouds before releasing their payloads. The hired pilots were unaware of the extra cargo they carried, the translucent solution soaking the rainmaking silver iodide crystals. They seeded the thickening clouds in patient box patterns growing wider with every passing hour.
The downtown area was the first to see rain. Umbrellas opened, collars went up, and paces quickened all across the city as raindrops smattered the gold dome of the Georgia State Capitol Building, sprayed the tourists standing in line for the World of Coca-Cola Pavilion, and nourished the trees edging the birth home of Martin Luther King, Jr.
The rain tapped at the window panes of the governor's mansion in Buckhead to the north and blackened the empty airfields of Hartsfield International Airport to the south. At midday the rain turned driving, tropical in force, slashing against the sidewalks and the streets and highways, flooding each of the thirty-two Peachtree streets, and lashing the skyscrapers and high rises like a squall battering ships at sea.
By noon, Maryk's Special Pathogens agents had gained access to most of the municipal waterworks. Their credentials allowed them past the secured screens, filters, and boilers, the pumping and purifying equipment that ensured the integrity of the city's running water, into the testing areas, beyond which the out-tanks pushed water through the underground utility system to every business and residence. They released colorless, odorless gel caps the size of human eyeballs, still soft from the mold, in multiples of ten corresponding to population density.
Atlanta drank its water. Atlanta washed its hands. Atlanta splashed in toilets and urinals and used common handles to open and close doors.
Atlanta brushed its teeth. Atlanta bathed.
The rain continued to fall outside and crashed against the antebellum homes and plantations of historic Roswell. It shut down attractions at Six Flags Over Georgia and swamped the legendary college gridirons and pelted the Confederate Memorial in Stone Mountain Park.
By two o'clock the infection was raging all across the city.
Highways jammed with sick people heading home from work. Downtown streets emptied with the shortened workday, and the first news reports came on, warning of a disease spreading exponentially throughout the metro region. By four o'clock the local news anchors had been lost to illness, and holiday event cancellations were read on air by sallow-eyed stagehands. By six o'clock, the stations put up "technical difficulty" cards, with the official BDC bulletin crawling across the bottom of the screen.
The causative agent was said to be an extremely rare Korean virus causing gastric discomfort, low-grade fever, and languorous fatigue.
"Patient Zero" was thought to be an unnamed "Admiral" of the Enterprise Church visiting Atlanta for the Star Fleet Convention, where the illness had ignited and was quickly spread by conventioneers moving throughout the city. There was no known treatment for the disease except bed rest, but the populace was assured that the natural curative processes of the human body would expel the virus within thirty-six hours.
Neighboring states were being asked not to attempt assistance, and in order to preclude the spread of the epidemic to the rest of the country, the metro area of Atlanta was effectively quarantined as of seven o'clock that night.
Maryk composed the bulletin himself at the vacated BDC. He had flown aboard the first planes seeding the clouds over the city. He had watched the preliminary drops of inspired rain falling away. He had scattered the first of the gel caps into the city's water system. He had personally compromised the holy water at the Enterprise Church service. But most of the deluge he had orchestrated by tablet from his corner office in Building Fifteen.
He wandered out onto Clifton Road before the rain stopped at midnight, rain that had no effect on him except to soak his shirt and pants and spill off his gloved hands, to be collected in the great sewers below the sleeping city and cleansed and expelled. He stood in the middle of the empty road and looked up at the sky and the rain bleeding out of it, and in that moment Maryk knew what it was to be Zero. The city was his city now. The fever was his fever. The rain was his rain. He stood through wave after soaking wave, and on either side of him the red-clay foundation of Atlanta washed off the roadside, coursing in dark, pulsing ripples down the sloping street,
draining away into the open mouths of the sewers.
The Fountain
Melanie applied VaWlne to Stephen's lips as he slept.
There was no more futile act ever performed in the history of human existence, but it was all she could do for him, that and adjust the pillow behind his head. Now and then a stray tear seeped down her face, which she ignored. Her emotions were a china vase shoved to the edge of a high table over a marble floor.
Maryk returned for her, and reluctantly she left Stephen, standing with Maryk in the delousing rays of the ultraviolet light chamber like some wretched thing. He had brought her fresh clothes, and waited while she changed in an employee bathroom. She was desperate to splash cold water on her face but all the sink faucets were dry. He looked her over comprehensively when she emerged, then disposed of her old clothes in a biohazard box. "They weren't that dirty," she said numbly. .
The halls were empty. The catwalks between buildings were empty too, and in the parking lot outside there was a dead, ringing silence.
There was no guard at the gate, nor any traffic as Maryk drove out onto the road, but Melanie was so blitzed at that point that none of this registered. He tried a couple of times to get her to talk, asking how she felt, and she nodded, or didn't nod, barely responding. Scenery ran past her window in a blur. Her mind was still with Stephen, watching him fade into eternity.
Only when they hit the downtown area did she realize that there were no people outside. The roads and sidewalks were all vacant, and she touched her window as they rolled unbothered through red traffic lights, the city shining oddly clean in the morning sun. "It's over," she said. Every skyscraper, every high rise, every hotel and restaurant, every office tower, every side street, every boulevard, every alleyway, every park. It was just she and Maryk now, and there seemed something inevitable about that, something inescapable and fatelike about them ending up together, alone in a vast, silenced world. She didn't resist it, or even react. She only wondered where all the corpses were. "It's not Zero," Maryk told her.
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