Just Life

by Neil Abramson

  Too much… she felt herself starting to topple into the pit and willed herself back to Tom’s voice and the conversation.

  “… hear about the Riverside Virus?” he was saying.

  “What about it?”

  “We could really use your help.”

  “I’m no longer with the school, Mr. Walden.”

  “I know, but…”

  “There are many people who are more capable,” Daniel said.

  “We don’t think so.”

  Daniel turned to Sam. “We?” Sam heard the hint of hope in his voice.

  “The mayor and her executive staff,” Tom clarified. “You’ve done more work than almost anyone in transmission of zoonotic viruses and nontraditional sources of contagion in urban environments.”

  “You’re talking history, Mr.…”

  “Walden. You’ve also had the most experience on the ground researching certain Lyssaviruses.”

  Sam did a double take at that last word. “Lyssaviruses? You didn’t mention that, Walden.”

  “Yes,” Daniel added. “That’s a fairly specific inquiry. Perhaps you would like to stop playing games?”

  “Well, um, maybe…,” Tom fumfered.

  “You guys never change,” Daniel scolded. “I’ve dealt with you government types my whole professional life. You always think you can get away with half answers. Many people have died as a result of that arrogance.”

  Tom ran his hands through his hair, the portrait of someone struggling with a decision beyond his authority. “I guess it really doesn’t matter,” Tom said. “It will all be public soon anyway. The brain biopsy of the child that died came back this morning. It is a preliminary positive for a Lyssavirus.”

  “Which one?” Daniel asked.

  “Rabies.”

  “Hold on,” Sam snapped. “Rabies? You guys all said it was avian. Birds don’t even carry rabies.”

  “The bird vector hypothesis apparently was incorrect,” Tom offered meekly.

  “Ya think?” Sam scoffed. “And how many birds did you kill before you figured this out?”

  Tom put his palms out defensively. “You’re using the word you pretty broadly. I’m not running this show.”

  “What type of animal bit the child?” Daniel asked.

  “There was no bite,” Tom answered.

  “That can’t be,” Sam challenged. “There are only two known means of rabies transmission—a bite from a rabid mammal—which birds are not, just by the way—and transmission of blood or saliva from a rabid animal through an open wound. That’s textbook.”

  “Yeah, well, the textbook is a little light on this one,” Tom replied. “No bite marks, no open wounds, no swelling or even redness. The boy’s skin was totally and completely intact. Not even a hangnail.”

  “Then the poor child must’ve swallowed infected saliva, or it came in through the nasal passage,” Daniel offered. “That’s extremely rare, but possible. What species variant?”

  “Non-variant,” Tom said.

  Daniel shook his head. “Someone has made an error,” Daniel insisted. “All rabies virus contains the genetic marker that tells you the source of the rabies—canine, raccoon, skunk, fox, whatever. We always know.”

  Tom shrugged. “So I’ve heard. Maybe someone at CDC made a mistake, but they can’t find the variant marker. And here’s the other problem: we haven’t found any rabid animals at any point of contact with this child. The kid never left Manhattan.”

  “There’ve been cases of rabies in the city and the surrounding counties,” Sam countered.

  “Yes,” Tom responded. “But the incidence is low and the number of confirmed cases of animal-to-human rabies transmission is far lower than that.”

  “What about that rabid raccoon they found near the convention stage in the park?” Sam asked.

  “We’ve confirmed the kid wasn’t in the park for at least ten days,” Tom answered. “I’m told that’s the incubation period for rabies.”

  “Were his symptoms even consistent with rabies?” Daniel asked.

  “In very general terms, yes. Initial flu-like symptoms progressing to partial paralysis, painful swallowing, hallucinations, organ failure. He was heavily sedated when he passed.”

  “What about the other sick kids?” Sam shot back. “They all just suddenly contracted rabies too? You’re not making any sense.”

  “The other children have similar symptoms and are getting progressively worse. But as you know, there’s no single definitive test for rabies in a living human victim. People generally have issues when you try to take even little pieces of their brains. The tests they’ve been able to conduct came back inconclusive. All the sick kids are being given rabies vaccine on the possibility that somehow they’ve been infected.”

  “That won’t work,” Daniel cut in. “The vaccine is ineffective once someone is symptomatic.”

  “Yes, that we know,” Tom said. “Unfortunately.”

  Daniel rose on creaky knees. “What you are suggesting, Mr. Walden, is some type of aerosolized transmission of rabies virus from an animal carrying the virus but showing no symptoms. That is extremely difficult to believe.”

  “More so than Ebola in Manhattan?” Tom challenged.

  “This would be far beyond what anyone has actually seen to date in the field.”

  “That’s why I’m darkening your door, sir. The mayor would like you to join the city as a consultant to help manage the problem.”

  “Have you considered the possibility that this may be a man-made problem?” Daniel asked.

  “You mean like weaponized rabies?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “We’ve been told no one has that, not even us,” Tom said. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “No,” Daniel said. Sam found the denial less than convincing.

  “We’ve been assured that this is a naturally occurring phenomenon.”

  “That’s very comforting,” Sam said, her voice filled with sarcasm. “I mean, given that you all were sure yesterday this was from pigeons.”

  Tom ignored her. “Can we count on your help to manage this situation, sir?”

  Daniel returned to his seat. “If what you’re saying is to be believed, there isn’t much to manage.”

  “I don’t understand,” Tom said.

  “You have one of the deadliest zoonotic viruses known to humanity—almost always one hundred percent fatal—being transmitted from an unknown and possibly asymptomatic source in an as-yet-unknown manner. The only thing you’ve got going for you is that it appears to be a fairly localized transmission. That is typical for rabies because infected animals are unable to travel far.”

  “So what would you recommend?” Tom asked.

  “The only thing we know. A QCK campaign.”

  “What’s KCQ?” Tom asked.

  “QCK,” Sam corrected him.

  “Quarantine, cull, and kill,” Daniel said. “The government-imposed veterinarian response to every zoonotic-based epidemic since the microbe was discovered. Find the animal source and remove it and every animal the infected source has contacted. Separate the sick animals from the healthy, move the sick someplace else, euthanize them, and pray it stops the spread.”

  Tom rubbed his eyes as he shook his head. “But at this point, the rabies could be from any mammal, right? So we can’t even start to isolate.”

  “The source animal cannot stay hidden forever. It will show up,” Daniel answered.

  “We can’t wait. We need to do something now.”

  “This virus is not concerned with your need for expedience, Mr. Walden,” Daniel said. “If you really must do something now you can put a big fence around Riverside and explain to the nice people why you’ve trapped them on the wrong side with a deadly virus. Or you can start rounding up every raccoon, mouse, rat, dog, cat, squirrel, and chipmunk in the area, although I’m guessing that despite your best efforts you’ll probably miss a few.”

  “There must be a
nother strategy.”

  “As I said at the beginning, I have no doubt at this point in my life that you can find smarter people with better ideas. Assuming, that is, you are telling the truth about all this. What does the CDC suggest?”

  Tom suddenly found his shoes particularly interesting. “The CDC is a political agency. It is more concerned with a politically acceptable solution.”

  “In other words,” Daniel said, “you’ve been shut out. That’s really why you’re here, isn’t it? The CDC isn’t talking to you. Which senator on the CDC funding committee did you piss off?”

  “I really can’t answer that, sir.”

  “Then you should take your secrets elsewhere,” Daniel said.

  Sam saw the conversation was about to crash and burn. That wouldn’t help any kids or her dogs. “What about the Bullet, Dad?” She looked into her father’s face for any hint of a reaction. She’d forgotten what it was like to be on the other end of those probing eyes. Sam instantly felt as if she were back in his office that day she had graduated from vet school.

  No, she told herself. They are just eyes; they can’t hurt me anymore. Besides, the giant countdown clock in the sky demanded more hours. “I mean, if some good can come of all that history, now would be the time,” she said.

  “I had assumed you knew,” Daniel answered.

  Sam shook her head.

  “I did complete the Bullet research.”

  “And?” Sam probed.

  “I made a remarkable discovery. Unfortunately it was the wrong one. The deeper I got, the more I found that the similarities between humans and the rest of the animal kingdom dwarf the dissimilarities. Genetically we are too close to birds, pigs, rats, and chimps to be able to manufacture a genetic transmission barrier. Given time, the virus always finds a way to cross. Always.”

  “Cross-species transference?” Sam offered. “You were never able to solve for it?”

  Her father nodded. “We are not different enough to matter.”

  Tom jumped in. “Can someone please tell me what the hell you’re talking about and whether it can help us stop a zoonotic virus?”

  “You are asking the wrong question, Mr. Walden,” Daniel responded. “What I discovered is that there really are no zoonotic viruses; there are only viruses. At the genetic level of a virus, when you look into the electron microscope, we are all one species. The virus knows what we refuse to acknowledge—we are all the same in the most material ways; we are all just life. And humans are not even that special—an asymmetrical off-the-rack mammal from the same mud pit as all other forms of life.”

  Sam leaned back in her seat. “So that’s why you quit,” she concluded.

  “Not exactly,” Daniel said. “First I tried to warn them about what was coming. I spoke to the National Academy, the Conference of Virologists, and a dozen other groups. I explained that we can no longer pretend that the divide between us and them is so huge or even relevant and we are running out of time.”

  “Time for what?” Tom asked.

  “We’ve already dodged so many bullets. These so-called animal viruses are mutating and jumping over to humans at an alarming rate. Some threshold has been broken. The swine flu that recently hit us? The vaccine was bullshit—every competent immunologist knows that. The only reason it didn’t kill a hundred thousand in this country is because for some reason the virus mutated left instead of right. Stupid luck. Remember the outbreak of SARS in Asia? If that had crossed to the US, who knows how many hundreds of thousands would have died before it mutated into something benign? And then there’s H5N1. Avian. Bird flu. Deadly. We have H7N9 coming over from the poultry markets in China—uniquely adapted to kill humans. And now, of course, Ebola that started in bats in a single cave in Africa. So many near misses. But I promise you, those are all the common cold compared to the big one that’s coming.”

  “Can we stay on message here, Dr. Lewis?” Tom interjected.

  “This is the message,” Daniel snapped. “No one wants to consider that these animals are so closely related to us that our very own actions toward them are the reason we’re getting sick. The diseases we are giving to these animals through our own agricultural practices and food production are returning to us. Everything follows something that came before.”

  “So what are we supposed to do?” Tom asked.

  “You are not listening. Unless we change things dramatically very soon, all we can do is wait for the next mega-virus to hit. Until then, we quarantine, we cull, and we kill.”

  Daniel crossed the room, opened a credenza, and returned with a large three-ring binder. He placed the binder in Tom’s lap.

  Tom opened the cover and he and Sam looked down into the photographic horror of a large bulldozer pushing hundreds of pig carcasses into a huge pit. The next photo was similar, except the carcasses were sheep. Another photo showed a chicken cull—humanoid figures in hazmat suits shoveling thousands of chickens into a giant furnace. Many of the chickens were still alive.

  “The threat of rabies in particular has triggered massive culls of dogs on the most tenuous of justifications.” Daniel flipped the page for them.

  Of all the images, Sam knew this one would remain in her memory forever.

  “Hanzhong Province, China, 2009,” Daniel said. “Thirty-seven thousand healthy dogs killed in a failed attempt to stop the spread of rabies.” The carnage in the photograph was overwhelming. Sam felt the bile rising to her throat and tried to breathe through her nose. “I was there for this one. The stench of dead dog bodies was overwhelming. The police pulled healthy dogs from the arms of screaming children and shot them in the head. Would you like to see the pictures from the dog cull in Kakinada?” Daniel asked. “I was there too.”

  “No,” Tom said quickly. “I think you’ve made your point. But this is New York, not China.”

  “Panic feels the same all over the world,” Daniel said. “The specific language we use to describe that feeling doesn’t matter. You think we’re such better people? That chicken cull I showed you? Iowa. The pig incineration? Georgia. What happened to the hundreds of pigeons you trapped? This,” Daniel said, pointing to the binder, “is all we know to do. It is as far as we’ve come. The children must be the priority. As soon as they have sufficient justification—a symptomatic animal, a higher mortality rate…” Daniel turned to Sam. “Would you tell him, please? You of all people know that I’m right.”

  “Can you give us a moment, Walden?” Sam asked.

  “But—” he protested, then caught Sam’s eye. She nodded at him. “I guess I could use some air,” Tom said.

  Sam waited until she heard the front door slam. She had not been alone with her father for over two years and now his proximity was crushing. “Why didn’t you tell me, Dad?” Sam asked. “Why didn’t you tell me about your research?”

  “I tried, but you weren’t picking up the phone. If—”

  “I had pretty good reason.”

  “I don’t blame you… it’s just that… would it matter if I said that I am sorry? Would that make you any less angry?”

  Sam had no context for dealing with the weakened being before her. Numbness dulled her thoughts. She glanced at the floor, then out the window. Anywhere but at her father. “I don’t know what I would do with that apology now.” Her voice sounded cold, even to herself, and she hated that.

  Daniel stared at her, waiting.

  “Look, Dad, if you think this ends in a big hug while Mom’s smiling ghost looks on and Leonard Cohen sings ‘Hallelujah’ on the soundtrack, it’s not gonna happen. I’m not that person anymore. I can’t be. Whether that’s because of you, or Mom, or it’s just who I was destined to become, I don’t have those instruments of compassion anymore. I can’t stop seeing those dogs you debarked.”

  “What dogs?” Daniel asked.

  “You don’t even remember?” Sam’s anger flared at the thought that such a pivotal moment in her life had gone unnoticed by the man before her. “Of course you don’t. Why wou
ld I think otherwise? Look, I didn’t come here for the family reunion. I came because I want you to help that jerk out there so he can maybe save those kids and I can get what I need.”

  “Please, Samantha, don’t ask me to get involved with this campaign. He’s obviously lying about this whole thing or at the very least he is ignorant about his mission. They want me to try and find the reservoir animal so they can start a cull. I’m sure of that. And not because it is the best option or even because they believe it will work, but because it is all they know. Perhaps that is the correct answer this time, but I’ve already done too much harm for one lifetime. I can’t be responsible for one more death. I will do anything else you ask, but not that.”

  “Tell me something, Dad. Why did you leave the world? Was it that you failed with the Bullet or was it Mom?”

  “Does the answer matter so much?”

  “It does to me.”

  “I think you already know.”

  The Bullet, Sam concluded at first. But then she looked in her father’s eyes again. She no longer saw pride or ego. Instead she saw her own reflection. At that moment Sam understood; he hadn’t left because of the Bullet or because of the loss of his wife. He’d left because with Grace’s death, Daniel had lost any hope of connection with the only living person who knew him as father and husband, just as she had lost the identity called daughter. Daniel was adrift and alone. She knew what that felt like. With that realization, Sam decided it would be inhuman to try to force him to help, particularly when she too questioned Walden’s veracity and motives.

  “Just my luck,” Sam said. “Dr. Daniel Lewis picks now to find his conscience. Better late than never, I guess.” Her voice was not unkind. “I’ll let Walden know. We can leave you alone now.”

  “Do you think I might be able to see you again?”

  Sam shrugged. “I feel like someone with twelve legs trying to cross a minefield,” she said. “Too many memories.”

  “Without memory there’s no history. Without history there’s no context. Without context there is no meaning.”

  “Who said that?”