by Dirk Patton
14
Joe rode beside me and I talked as we worked our way east. I told him about the razorbacks, and the bats I’d seen in Texas. As we moved he calmed and began thinking about what I was saying. He asked a lot of questions I couldn’t answer, then began making some of the same assumptions that Rachel had when we had first encountered infected wildlife.
“We didn’t know it was communicable to other species,” he said after I was finished with my horror stories. “We didn’t even test for that. I guess from a purely scientific standpoint it doesn’t matter. Wouldn’t have changed any of the approaches we were trying.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. The concept of studying and understanding viruses and how they work was something I knew nothing about. It was something that every time I read or heard about, sounded like science fiction. Very scary science fiction. How the hell do you fight when something as simple as taking a breath or a drink of water could be the last thing you do?
“Maybe we should have been working on a Terminator virus.” He mused.
“What’s that?” I asked, shifting my aching ass enough to get a little relief without sending the horse in a direction I didn’t want to go.
“Something one of the senior researchers at the lab was talking about. It’s like… well, how much do you know about how a virus works?”
“They make you sick. Not much more than that.” I said, wondering where he was going with this, but curious nonetheless.
“OK, I’ll dumb this down as much as I can. A virus isn’t alive. It’s not an organism like say bacteria. It’s just a tiny little bundle of genetic material, DNA or RNA, surrounded by a protective coat, called a capsid, which is made up of proteins. When viruses come into contact with host cells, they trigger the cells to engulf them, or fuse themselves to the cell membrane, so they can release their genetic code into the cell. Basically they hijack the host.
“Once inside a host cell, viruses take over its machinery to reproduce. Viruses override the host cell’s normal functioning with their own set of instructions that shut down production of host proteins and direct the cell to produce viral proteins to make new virus particles. That’s why we feel sick. The virus is making our body’s cells do something different than what they’re supposed to be doing.
“Some viruses insert their genetic material into the host cell’s DNA, where they begin directing the copying of their genes, or simply lie dormant for days, years or a lifetime. Either way, the host cell does all the actual work: the virus simply provides the instructions.
“Viruses are able to infect and reproduce in more than one kind of animal, but the same virus can cause different reactions in different hosts. Flu viruses infect birds, pigs, and humans. While some types of flu viruses don’t harm birds, they can overwhelm and kill humans.
“What we do know about this particular virus is that it’s elegantly simple. It only has two instructions for the host cells. First, brain cells where it rewrites the host’s DNA and causes both rage and triggers an exponential increase in output from the adrenal, thyroid and pituitary glands. That’s why the infected are so strong and tough.
“Second, and we were just starting to look at this, it invades the nervous system. It… ok, the best way I can describe it if you don’t have a bio-engineering degree is that it amps up the nervous system. Hearing, smell, taste, touch, and vision. And it drastically improves your reaction times. It’s like a super charger for your senses.”
I had been listening closely and understood most of what he was telling me. I’d seen infected behave in nearly superhuman fashion.
“But why the difference between males and females?” I asked. “And why are the males blind?”
“Human physiology,” he answered, sighing when he saw the blank look on my face.
“OK, I’ll try. Male and female bodies are different, not just in appearance, but there are also basic physiological differences. Different organs, different chemistry and they use their brains differently. I could spend hours detailing the subtle differences, so you’re going to have to trust me that they’re there.” He said.
“That male and female brains are different? You don’t have to convince me of that.” I said and he smirked at me before continuing.
“So are the nervous systems. Not so different that it matters, normally, but different enough that once the virus corrupts the host’s cells, there’s a different end result. What is a glaring difference between an infected male and female to us is a tiny fraction of a percent difference at the genetic level. Personally, I believe that the virus was developed and tested by researchers who only used female test subjects. They probably didn’t know it would be different in males, or they would have tweaked it a little.”
“OK, but why are the females getting smarter?” I asked.
“They aren’t getting smarter, the virus is mutating and having less of a detrimental effect on their higher brain functions. Think of it this way. Have you ever used a copy machine to make a copy of something?”
I nodded, wondering where the hell he was going with this.
“Good. The copy you made wasn’t quite as perfect as the original, right? Now, what happens if you make a copy of the copy? And then a copy of the copy of the copy, and so on. Each copy will be progressively different from the original until eventually you could place a thirtieth generation copy next to the original and couldn’t tell they were the same document.
“This is really over-simplifying it, but the concept with viruses is the same. Every time a strand, or any fraction of a strand, of DNA is copied there’s a possibility for something to go wrong. And it does. All the time. That’s why there’s a different strain of the flu virus every year. It’s not technically a new flu virus; it’s just a mutated version that came about because nature isn’t perfect.
“So, with the virus lose in the world it has been replicating in host organisms and has obviously started mutating. That’s what you’re seeing. Something in the DNA code didn’t copy correctly and the effect of the virus has changed. Does that make sense?”
I thought about what he said and it did make sense. Sick, twisted sense, but from what I knew about China it didn’t surprise me at all to consider that they had used females as test subjects. Maybe I was being unfair, but they didn’t exactly have a good track record when it came to how they treat women.
Or unwanted female children, I thought with revulsion at the mental image of a lab full of little girls being continually exposed to different versions of the virus until the scientists were satisfied with the result.
“So what’s this Terminator thing you mentioned,” I asked, shaking my head to clear the horrible images our conversation was fostering.
“You map the DNA of an invading virus, which we have. Using that map, you engineer a new virus with DNA that will target it and shut it down.”
“You mean you can kill it? You can make a cure? But what about the mutated version?” I asked, excitement causing me to bring the horse to a stop. Joe stopped his and turned it to face me.
“Kill it, yes. Cure? No. There is no cure. When the Terminator virus targets the original virus and rewrites its DNA, the host cells die. And the mutation is so insignificant that if we have the original base code to target, the Terminator will also target the mutations. That’s why it’s always so important to find the source of an infection, or a patient zero.” He said.
“If there’s a way to kill the virus…”
“When the host cells die, the organism dies.” He said. “That’s why it’s called a Terminator virus. It kills everything without discretion when it’s activated.”
“So you’re telling me there’s a way to kill the infected with another virus? What about people who aren’t infected?”
“Yes, I think we could kill it. In theory, the Terminator virus would lie dormant in any person that wasn’t infected. It would only be triggered if it encountered DNA specific to the original virus. It shouldn’t do anything to yo
u or I. The beauty of it would be if, say, ten years from now you suddenly turned. The Terminator virus would still be present in your body and would attack. You’d die, or the infection in you would die.” He said.
“Then why the hell didn’t you guys do this?” I asked.
“We ran out of time. We were just starting to discuss it when the vaccine samples arrived, then things kind of went to hell pretty soon after that. I don’t know if there’s anyone left other than me that even understands this shit.”
15
We continued our ride across the grassy plain. My horse, I’d decided to name her Horse, was strong and apparently accustomed to the weather and terrain. After a few miles at a trot we slowed the animals. They weren’t showing signs of tiring, but it was approaching mid-afternoon and it was hot. We didn’t want to wear them down too much, never knowing when we might need them to be able to call on some energy reserves.
Two hours from the dry river where I’d shot the vultures we dropped into a small valley with a narrow stream running through it. Large trees grew at the water’s edge and when we rode into their shade it was a physical relief to be out of the sun. I planned to let the horses take some water for a few moments then keep pressing on, but Joe jumped down and stepped in front of Horse to stop her from dipping her head for a drink.
“They need to cool down in the shade for a few minutes first,” he said. “If they’re too hot, which they will be in this weather, the water can make them sick and then they’re no good to us.”
I nodded and shrugged out of my pack, tossing it to the ground. I wasn’t eager to try dismounting with the extra weight on my back without benefit of a saddle and stirrup.
Clumsily, I climbed down, nearly falling as my right leg came over Horse’s back. Feet on the ground I winced as the pain in my ass and lower back reminded me it had been over twenty years since I’d been on a horse and that I wasn’t a kid anymore. Joe watched me hobbling around bow legged and tried to hide a smile as he bent and filled his canteens.
I walked around, enjoying the shade and drinking deeply before replenishing my supply. Removing the shemagh, I dipped it in the water and rewrapped my head. As I stood up, Joe coaxed the horses forward and they all lowered their heads and drank noisily. While I was waiting, I moved out into the sun and looked at the tracks the group we were trailing had left.
Nothing new or different to see. They had walked straight into the shallow water, not pausing. Clear paw prints told me Dog was still behind them.
“How much farther?” I called to Joe who was checking each of the horse’s feet.
“Maybe twenty five miles,” he said after thinking about it for a minute. “Two hours if we kept them at a fast canter, but I don’t think that’s a good idea in this heat. It’s got to be well over a hundred degrees. Won’t do us any good to push them until they drop.”
I didn’t like the answer, but I agreed with him. It was hot as hell, and that’s saying a lot for me. I’ve been in most of the hottest and crappiest places in the world, and I lived in Arizona for the past several years. I’m used to dealing with not just a few days, but several consecutive months of triple digit temperatures. 110 Fahrenheit is nothing unusual for Phoenix, and 115 to 120 happens more often than the Chamber of Commerce and Tourism Bureau would admit.
We rested the animals for ten more minutes, drinking as much water as we could. It wasn’t just the horses suffering from dehydration that we had to worry about. Finally we were almost ready to go and I took a few minutes to prepare myself. A six foot length of paracord tied to my pack at one end and belt at the other, I got in position and leapt onto Horse’s back.
I made it on the first try this time. It wasn’t pretty, and I had a bit of a scare when I thought I was going to roll right on over and land in the water, but I made it. Getting my balance, I used the cord to pull the pack up and got it settled on my back. Joe had watched my improvisation and once I was settled he magically transported himself from the ground to his mount’s back. Fucking showoff.
We kept the horses at a walk, probably around five miles per hour. I wanted speed, but at the same time I had decided I’d rather reach our destination after the sun went down. My NVGs were somewhere back in the crashed Osprey, but I had the night vision scope on my rifle. The night had been my friend for many years, and I was going to count on it again to help me.
An hour from where we stopped to rest we came across a faint trail in the yellowing grass that struck out at a right angle to the tracks of the group. Turning Horse, I walked her around the area, then a few yards in the direction of the new trail. There was another track paralleling the one that had caught my attention.
Looking up, I could follow both of them with my eyes for close to a hundred yards before they disappeared over the top of a low rise. Whistling to get Joe’s attention, I urged Horse forward and we started following the new tracks. Joe fell in beside me and together we crested the rise, stopping to look at a body.
This was a woman, lying face down, with no obvious signs of injury. Infected? Only one way to find out. I dropped my pack and swung down with less drama than the last time I’d dismounted. Rifle on burst mode and aimed at the woman, just in case, I cautiously approached and kicked her leg.
No matter how well a conscious person is pretending, they can’t seem to mimic the boneless feel of a corpse. It’s one of those things that I can’t describe; you just have to have been around dead bodies. There’s a quality to them that’s more than simply limp or flaccid. Anyway, I could tell from the feel and movement of the female’s lower half that she was truly dead.
Hooking a foot under her shoulder I lifted. The body came up, then flopped over onto its back, dead, red eyes staring at the cloudless sky. Infected. The front of her shirt was soaked with blood, ants and beetles already feasting. But the best part was her throat had been torn out. Dog!
Now the story of the tracks diverging from the group was starting to make sense. Someone had run. And they had been pursued, but not by the whole party. Looking around at the signs beaten into the grass I confirmed my suspicion that two infected had followed. But obviously, so had Dog, and he had killed one of them, protecting whoever had run. It had to be Rachel. Dog didn’t know Katie, and anyway, she wasn’t in any condition to run with a bullet in her chest.
Dashing back to Horse, I grabbed the end of the paracord and leapt onto her back like I’d been mounting horses without a saddle my entire life. Pack raised and in place I pushed her to a run, following the trail. Joe matched my pace and we raced south across the prairie, covering a lot of ground very quickly.
Ten minutes later my heart skipped a beat when I spotted another body in the distance. Approaching I could see the flowing brown hair and long, slender limbs. Rachel? I held my breath until I was close enough to see it was another infected. Her arms were badly chewed up where she’d fought with Dog, but he hadn’t killed her. The skull was deformed where it had been caved in with a small, smooth rock. The rock was lying in the grass next to the corpse, blood and hair stuck to one side of it.
Horse danced sideways as I held her back, searching the ground with my eyes. There was a lot of trampled grass from the fight, but it only took me a few moments to spot the twin tracks that headed to the east. Rachel and Dog were going after the group!
I urged the horse to a run, leaning forward over her neck as we streaked along. I could hear the pounding of Joe’s mount’s hooves slightly behind me. Trusting Horse, I focused my attention on the ground, frequently looking up to the horizon before returning my gaze to the trail we were following. After a few minutes I could no longer hear the other horses and shot a glance over my shoulder.
They were still behind us, running hard, but Horse had the longer legs and was steadily pulling away. I didn’t bother to slow and let them catch up. Nearly fifteen minutes later I topped a rise and spotted two forms lying in the grass a couple of hundred yards ahead. Horse covered the distance quickly, pulling up when I shifted my weight b
ack and squeezed with my lower legs.
Rachel lay on her side, either unconscious or dead. Dog stood at our approach, but he was wobbly on his feet, nearly falling before he caught his balance. Putting himself between Rachel and us he lowered his head and I could see his teeth as he growled. I threw myself off of Horse’s back before she was completely stopped, stumbling but managing to keep my feet under me.
“Dog, it’s me!” I shouted as I ran forward.
Dog raised his head and tried to run to meet me, but all he could manage was a weak legged walk. Rushing up, I skidded to the grass on my knees next to Rachel, wrapping one arm around Dog’s neck. He was hot to the touch and shaking and I knew he didn’t have long if I didn’t get some water in him. Taking a moment to check Rachel’s pulse, I was alarmed to find it weak and erratic.
Ripping the shemagh off I placed it over Rachel’s head, shielding her from the sun. By now Joe had arrived, leaping to the ground and running towards us. Dog started to growl but I calmed him and told him Joe was a friend.
We worked on the two of them feverishly. Both were severely dehydrated. We started with small sips of water for Dog and carefully poured tiny splashes into Rachel’s mouth, cautious to not choke her. I also rubbed water on her face and neck, trying to slowly bring her body temperature down. She was as hot as Dog, feeling like she was running a blistering fever, but I knew it was from exposure to the sun.
An hour later Dog was much improved, drinking at will. His eyes had cleared and he finally lay down and closed them with a sigh that had the most contented sound to it I’ve ever heard. He was out of danger, as long as we didn’t run out of water. Rachel was still unconscious, but the fever seemed to be under control as her skin was no longer hot to the touch. I had used more of our precious supply to soak the shemagh again, hoping to keep her cool.
“I’ve got to go get us more water,” Joe said.