The Cannibal Virus

by Anthony DeCosmo

  Instead, Major Gant turned to Waters and demanded to know, "Okay, Doctor, which power are you working for?"

  Before their host could answer, a new voice joined the conversation.

  "We do not work for any government."

  The newcomer had curly brown hair and glasses and dressed in something like business casual but carried the air of a student teacher more than that of a corporate suit.

  "We work for all the world, Major Gant."

  15

  Thom did not resist the guards' direction as the new voice led he and Dr. Stacy to the left, around a bend, and along another straight passageway. Instead, he acted completely humble and under their power; he showed no sign of resistance although it unnerved him that their host knew his name.

  He did, however, plan. The first stage in any plan revolved around intelligence gathering. So as they traveled through what appeared to be an oval-shaped base, he watched and listened.

  His eyes saw security cameras on swivel mounts every thirty feet or so, as well as tracks for bulkheads that could conceivably cut the facility into smaller, contained parts. He noted call boxes and warning signs written in English. Doors marked as "labs" sprouted off from the inner wall, including a double-wide one labeled "Specimen Storage."

  The sight that grabbed his attention the most was the "Security Control" room that was a self-contained chamber on a raised platform that gave Thom the impression of a press box at a sports arena, although in this case the box overlooked only a wide hall. Still, he suspected that the cameras, bulkheads, and alarms were all controlled from that particular stop on the tour.

  As for personnel, despite being a fairly large facility it seemed sparsely populated. He counted two distinct types of occupants: scientists and soldiers, the most unholy and consistently bedeviling of alliances in all the world. It seemed to Thom Gant that very little good came about when those two groups found common ground.

  In any case, during the trip he spotted about six different scientists or technicians dressed in white lab coats, not including Dr. Waters, who walked and talked with the curly-haired man, but including Pearl, the Englishwoman who had accompanied them on the plane.

  No doubt more worked around the complex somewhere, but seeing only those six made him think that the research staff could not be that big; maybe about the size of one section at Darwin.

  As for soldiers, he counted a dozen moving from place to place but knew three times that number had been involved on Tioga. Most carried AKMs and sidearms, as well as batons, although a few sported utility belts that might hold additional instruments. Most appeared of Asian descent, although he noted a few who looked more Polynesian and even one who was most likely either Indian or Pakistani.

  He did not see any saluting, any rigid marches, or any sentries standing at stiff attention. Certainly they could be trained military — lord knew his Archangel team operated under a rather relaxed military code. Yet he wondered if this group might not be more mercenary than national army.

  His ears provided an equal amount of valuable insight.

  First, he caught pieces of the conversation between Waters and the man who apparently oversaw the entire operation. Gant heard Waters say things such as, "Spread patterns developed better than our simulations," and "counter agent performed as anticipated." At one point Waters nodded toward Gant and remarked, "despite unforeseen variables."

  The base's public address system used a computerized voice to convey messages along the lines of, "Security team report to main entrance to receive inbound specimens," and "Satellite pass condition yellow: all personnel restricted indoors until all-clear."

  Taken as a whole, Gant found this to be a small but well-funded operation with a high level of sophistication. Again, he thought of The Tall Company, although he did not think they were likely to go to such great lengths to remain invisible. Indeed, he would expect Tall to conduct these types of operations with the full blessing and financial support of the Defense Department. Unless, of course, this was something so far off the traditional grid that even Tall felt the need for absolute secrecy.

  Whatever the truth, he and Dr. Stacy arrived at their next destination: an office on the far side of a sliding glass door. The furnishings included a big desk and several bookshelves, all crammed into an area the size of a small motel room.

  Decorations included a shelf full of various flowers that smelled real, a wildlife painting depicting what might have been an eastern mixed forest complete with a prancing deer and a circling hawk, and a bookshelf dedicated to tomes covering biology, archeology, and mathematics.

  As they entered, Thom spied a file folder on the desktop labeled "Cannibal Virus." The words gave him something he rarely felt: a chill.

  He knew Waters and the people of this base had engineered the outbreak on Tioga, but to see that label on a file folder made him both angry and fearful. Here the death he had witnessed and the potential for even more widespread murder had been reduced to a file folder. It was everything he despised about the Dr. Frankensteins who lived in his world.

  Waters excused himself but the guards remained, directing the two prisoners to chairs facing the desk, where the man in charge took a seat.

  "My name is Terrance Monroe," he told them without a hint of drama as he pulled a slip of paper from the top drawer of his desk.

  Gant glanced at Stacy, and for the second time on that strange day he saw that she appeared to recognize one of their antagonists, but before she could speak Monroe decided to share a few more names.

  "It seems that, well, you are Major Thomas Gant," he read from the paper. "Interesting. You were a U.S. Marine but are now serving under Army jurisdiction as part of something called Task Force Archangel. The information I received suggests you are an Opposing Force operator engaged in war games and penetration testing and that you're based out of Fort Irwin, which would make sense. Still …" the man pushed his glasses higher on his nose and went on, "Umm, well, it's rather strange to find you on Tioga Island. So, that means either the Tioga constable spent a great deal of time and money arranging for one of the military's most advanced OpFor commanders to test security at a resort island in the middle of the Pacific, or there's more to you or Archangel than I was able to access."

  Gant said nothing. He felt that even a wiseass comment would not be helpful. However, he took note of Monroe's cadence. The man tried to sound as if he were in control, but his voice wavered and stuttered, making him seem like he was in above his head. Indeed, based on appearances, Gant wondered if this man had not been in over his head the moment he moved out of his mother's basement.

  Monroe faced his other prisoner and went on, "You were a little more difficult to track but eventually we identified you as Dr. Annabelle Stacy, civilian employee at Fort Irwin attached as a consultant to this Archangel thing. You have an impressive resume, Doctor, so I'm not sure why you're mixed up with the military. Rather a waste of what appears to be substantial intelligence."

  Thom found himself growing agitated as Monroe's attention turned to Stacy. He did not mind being under the spotlight, but it bothered him to see Stacy face such scrutiny. Perhaps this was based on some twinge of chivalry.

  "So who are you?" Gant disrupted the man's recital. "And what is this place?"

  Monroe pushed his glasses up on his nose again and answered, "As I said, my name is, um, Terrance Monroe, and I am the director of this project. I am also the person who, well, is holding your fate in his hands. If you are cooperative than we can get through this. If not, well, you won't leave me with many choices."

  "What kind of choices would those be?" Gant felt the anger build up again, especially as he sensed a certain amount of weakness in this man. Perhaps Terrance could be bullied. "Like the choices you gave those people back on Tioga Island? Death by gun or being poisoned with some kind of virus?"

  "Virus?" Monroe echoed.

  Stacy broke in, "What we saw on Tioga was no virus, Major."

  Although their identi
ties had already been discovered, hearing her say his rank rankled him and he shot her an angry glance but in that same moment softened again. Yes, there it was, he was bouncing between respecting her as a professional and looking out for her as a civilian.

  Clearly she had passed a number of tests on this mission. She had controlled her fear, she had managed to push aside the horror and focus on the facts, and she remained in control despite having been taken prisoner by high-tech goons who were not shy about murder.

  Yes, it seemed she had earned his respect. Could he treat her as an equal?

  Thom realized that if they were to survive this, he must allow himself to see her as a comrade, not a civilian. Perhaps that was his test on this particular mission.

  "Yes, it was a virus," Gant shot back.

  "I'm not sure why — oh, you saw this," Monroe said and tapped the folder. "Sorry, Major, you have it a little backwards. What you saw on Tioga Island was not the work of a virus. No, in fact you could say it was the work of the anti-virus. The "Cannibal Virus" refers to the problem we are trying to correct."

  Dr. Stacy supplied the rest of the answer: "It refers to man. Man is the cannibal virus."

  "Very good." Monroe appreciated her answer.

  "That was your book, wasn't it?" she went on, and as had been the case on the plane, Thom felt out of the loop. "Terrance Monroe, militant environmentalist. You wrote The Cannibal Virus a few years ago, referring to mankind's tendency to destroy itself; to consume resources and essentially cannibalize our means of survival. Honestly, using the virus metaphor for mankind is a little overdone, don't you think?"

  He ignored her jab and replied, "I'm flattered that you, um, have heard of me," although his tone sounded anything but modest.

  "I'm an environmentalist," she said, drawing a distinction. "I've researched alternative energy, taken measurements of the Himalayan glaciers, and prepared a paper on overfishing for a United Nations investigation. I have done serious work to help fight some of these problems. That's opposed to writing a bunch of inflammatory nonsense and helping to paint people in the green movement as whackos."

  "Sounds to me like you have wasted your time," their host berated her resume. "I used to think like that, but I've taken things to the next logical step."

  "Logical? You call what happened on Tioga logical?" Gant burst out.

  "Yes, very much so," he said, and this time Terrance Monroe found some strength in his voice, sort of like the nerdy kid finally snapping on his tormentors, albeit with a strong dose of righteousness.

  "Look around you, Major. Do you think the problem is global warming? Do you think toxic waste dumps, air pollution, or water pollution can be combatted? They are symptoms of the bigger issue. The world's population is spiraling out of control. Natural resources like drinking water and, yes, fossil fuels are shrinking fast. Deforestation is stripping away the very means by which the Earth cleanses the air. We are losing arable land. Soil pollution, even noise and light pollution, are ruining our quality of life."

  Gant pounced: "So this is what this is all about? Population control? Are you kidding me? And this is your solution? People like you always complain about factories and toxic waste but you're the first ones in line for the new smart phone and you're probably jetting around the globe in your personal airplane. You are a hypocrite."

  "No, Major, I am not a hypocrite," Monroe said, standing and holding his personal phone in the air. "I love technology. In fact, technology is the answer to solving our problems. Don't mistake me for some dreamer who thinks we should go back to horses and live off the land. I am a realist. Man must continue to advance. We must have energy, even fossil fuels. Chemical waste is a byproduct of modern manufacturing and can be tolerated, to a certain degree. The problem is how many people live on this planet and how those people either directly destroy the environment or — in meeting their needs — industry destroys that environment.

  "The Earth's population is far exceeding the ability of the planet to provide. We can either do something now to reduce that population and save our civilization, or take impotent half-measures that only treat symptoms until the day comes that we are all finished."

  "I cannot believe I am hearing this," Annabelle Stacy said. "This is preposterous. I just came from an island where people were killed and turned into walking dead. Now you're telling me that you made this happen as some sort of plan to save the planet? That you're going to release this infection to kill off population? Are you insane?"

  "What would you prefer?" their host asked. "I know, an initiative to increase access to birth control. Education about family planning and resource management. Or how about something drastic, like spreading access to abortion and encouraging mothers to terminate their pregnancies?"

  "There are answers," Stacy said. "But not murder or genocide. Those aren't answers. You sound like a killer in search of a motive to justify some kind of God fantasy. And you're hooked up with that man," she said, pointing her finger at the door in reference to Waters. "Do you even know who he is? He's a butcher. A sick, twisted man."

  Monroe took a deep breath and conceded, "Yes, Dr. Waters has a checkered past. But he is a brilliant man and he helped bring us to this point. Without his expertise — and his willingness to use that expertise — we'd still be struggling to understand the organism and how best to implement it."

  "Organism?" Gant asked. "What exactly is causing these people to get up and walk after they have been murdered?"

  Monroe paused again, this time alternating his gaze between Stacy and Gant. Thom thought he saw a smile hovering around the man's lips, as if he itched to tell a big secret; as if they would be impressed by his revelation. He needed no coaxing. The man wanted the world to know how clever he was.

  "A form of fungus."

  Stacy replied very quickly, as if she had half-expected that answer: "Something based on Cordyceps, I'll bet." She turned to Gant and told him, "Cordyceps are endoparasitoids, You've probably heard of them because they are known to take control of insects, most famously ants. If a fungus is causing this, I have to believe it started out as Cordyceps."

  "Yes, you would think that," Monroe answered just as quickly, as if he had anticipated her thought. Gant felt as if he were watching an intellectual tennis match as the two volleyed. "But you would be wrong. This fungus is unlike anything you've seen. It's been engineered as the perfect parasite."

  "You created a new form of fungi?"

  Monroe hesitated, as if trying to find the perfectly parsed answer.

  Gant guessed, "You did not create it. Someone gave it to you."

  "We did the work," the man defended. "We started with something crude and had to shape it, mold it, test it, and prepare—" Monroe stopped, realizing he was going way too far.

  Stacy said, "So you bioengineered a parasitic fungus that grows inside the host. I've seen the tendrils. It's like the fungus is imitating body functions and taking control of the cadavers."

  "This is the perfect tool for what we need to achieve," Monroe said, sounding as if he were quoting from a sales presentation he had put together for the project some time ago. "From a biological standpoint, we've achieved something beyond the means of current science."

  "Making it harder to combat," Gant said.

  Stacy added, "And when doctors find it's a fungi, they'll think Cordyceps, like I did. That gains you more time before someone finds a way to stop it."

  "So who would give you the information to get this started? What government, Terrance? The Chinese? It could be the perfect weapon for knocking Taiwan down. Or maybe this could be introduced in South Korea so that the North could invade with ease."

  "This isn't about politics, Major, but it is about war. A war of survival. A war we must win or we will perish as a species."

  Stacy asked, "And you plan to do that? All on your own?"

  "No, of course not," Monroe replied. Monroe's momentum carried him on, and in that instant Gant realized that Stacy had picked exactly the
right moment to ask that question, because it was the one moment when their captor's arrogance and emotion would cause him to act — to reveal — without thinking. "The Global Health Protectorate was formed for exactly this reason. Nations, people, and organizations working together to address the root cause of all our problems."

  Gant sat straight in his chair, eager to hear more, and Stacy leaned forward, waiting for their host's next words.

  Monroe hovered over them, taking deep breaths and looking very much like a lecturing professor.

  "This isn't a game. The world is dying. There is only a certain amount of time left to stop the damage and allow our species to live on, albeit in substantially fewer numbers. Someone has to stand up and do something. That's what I'm doing."

  "And who is backing you, Terrance?" Gant pried in a soft voice. "No way you could fund something like this project with Internet donations and bake sales. Something like this has to be done with the help of a major power."

  Monroe finally seemed to realize that he had said too much. He fell quiet for a moment and then sat back down and folded his hands on the desktop as if forcing himself to calm.

  "Our interests … my interests coincide with others'. Believe it or not, Major Gant, there are some people on this planet who actually think about the long term."

  "Let me guess," Gant decided to throw up a trial balloon. "Are you working for The Tall Company?"

  Like it often did for Gant, the very mention of that name made Monroe make a face that resembled a person biting into a sour lemon.

  "Tall? They are the antithesis of everything I stand for. They are part of the problem. No, I'm speaking of people in government; in various organizations and positions. People with a global perspective."

  "I can only imagine," Thom said, easing back in his chair and folding his arms. "I can only imagine what some countries thought when they saw you coming. Do you really believe the Chinese, or the North Koreans, or some rogue state is funding you because they want to save the Earth? To combat overpopulation? No, when you are done with all your tests and experiments, they will move in and take over."