Under a Graveyard Sky

by John Ringo

  “Or something,” Stacey said, frowning.

  “I have various smart women around me,” Steve said, shrugging. “We’ll figure something out. But only if we can keep from biting each other.”

  “Well,” Stacey said, snuggling closer. “Maybe a little nibble.”

  “I don’t know,” Steve said. “Have you been a good girl? Do you deserve a nibble?”

  “I’ve been a very bad girl,” Stacey whispered in his ear. “So I definitely deserve a nibble . . .”

  “Oh, my God,” Faith said, grimacing. She’d suddenly appeared in the hatchway to the saloon. “That is sooo gross!”

  “So much for a little alone time,” Steve said, shaking his head. “What’s up?”

  “What are we going to do about dinner?” Faith asked.

  “You know where the food is,” Steve said.

  “So we’re going to have to cook in this?” Faith said.

  “We’re sure as hell not ordering pizza,” Stacey said. “Should we break into the Mountain House?”

  “Better than trying to cook a regular meal when we can barely stand up,” Steve said, grinning. “Think you can figure out how to boil water?”

  “In this?” Faith said. “No way! It’s storming!”

  “This is not a storm,” Steve said. “Given the plan, at some point you’ll understand what the word ‘storm’ means in a forty-five-foot sailboat. This isn’t even a gale.”

  “I can do it,” Sophia said. “I think.”

  “No,” Steve said. “Stace, take the wheel. I’m going to have to give your daughters a class on boiling water and working with boiling water in light chop conditions.”

  “Try not to kill yourself or catch the boat on fire,” Stacey said.

  “Thank you for that vote of confidence, First Mate.”

  * * *

  “The reason that it is both airborne and blood pathogen now becomes clear . . .” Dr. Bao said. “Researchers at University of Hong Kong have pieced out its genetic and proteinomic code. The influenza virus produces two separate and distinct ‘child’ viruses. One is a copy of the H7D3 influenza. The second is a highly modified version of the rabies virus . . .”

  “Two viruses in one?” Dr. Curry said, leaning forward and setting down his popcorn bag. “What the hell?”

  * * *

  “Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh, no . . . No . . .”

  Tim Shull had been following “the synbio version of Chernobyl” in real time, monitoring multiple different sources. Tim could because he really didn’t have anything better to do. After dropping out of his master’s program after that stupid argument with Dr. Wirta he’d moved back home. And since Starbucks had cut back on his time he could spend most of the day scanning the various synbio boards, news and blogs. It was the virtual version of watching a train wreck in slow motion. And whether the world ended or not, it was going to wreck the amateur synbio industry.

  Synbio was short for synthetic biology, the creation of new or modified organisms. The “mundane” term was genetic engineering. It was a field at which Tim was a sort of “internet only” recognized expert. He’d been on the fast track to working in the professional field when he’d had a falling out with his master’s advisor and quit. Subsequent to that he’d continued his work, literally, in his mother’s basement until a breakthrough last year that, if he’d done it as a master’s thesis, would have made him a shoe-in for prizes, maybe even a Nobel, and a guaranteed Ph.D. track. Since he’d done it on his own time in a basement the “awards” were few and far between. So all he’d done was put up a video and blog explaining the breakthrough and become a minor celebrity in the amateur synbio community. Although there had been some applications breakthroughs in basement synbio, his was really the first theoretical breakthrough. Which meant he had the largest number of followers on Twitter of an amateur synbio “pioneer,” and his words were, on amateur synbio boards, given much the same weight as professionals.

  Unfortunately, his “breakthrough” was how to get a virus to express two different organisms from a single virus. And he’d put it up as a YouTube video . . .

  “I am soooo screwed . . .”

  There was a thunderous crash from upstairs and he heard his mother screaming—

  “DOWN! DOWN! DOWN! FBI SERVING A VALID SEARCH WARRANT . . . !”

  He looked around but there was nowhere to run in a basement.

  * * *

  “The creator of the Pacific Flu virus has been identified as twenty-four-year-old Timothy Shull, a drop-out from the Stanford microbiology master’s program . . .”

  CHAPTER 6

  “I didn’t create the virus!” Tim said. The room was windowless, and since he’d been transported with a bag over his head, he wasn’t even sure where he was. And good luck with getting a lawyer. The ride had also made him puke all over his lap and shoes. Which wasn’t adding to his day. “All I did was prove it was possible to express two different—”

  “All we want is the vaccine, kid,” the FBI agent said, calmly.

  “I DIDN’T MAKE THE VIRUS!” Tim screamed. “If I had the VACCINE I’d have VACCINATED myself! And my mom!”

  “You’ve got all the materials in your basement, son,” the agent said, still calmly. It wasn’t like the geek could get violent chained to a chair. “So just explain how to make the vaccine . . .”

  “AAAAAGH!”

  * * *

  “There is no RNA or DNA related to the pathogen in this material,” Dr. Karza said, shrugging. His team had run every stored microorganism in the suspect’s lab in world-record time. There was lots of other “stuff,” but exactly zero was pathogenic. “Fascinating breakthrough. Brilliant. Really brilliant. But it has nothing except background science to do with the actual pathogen.”

  “You didn’t get it right the last time,” Agent Shornauer said. “Why do we trust you this time?”

  “You want to figure it out, tough guy? Bottom line, except for pure scientific aspects, this is a dead end.”

  “We’ll determine that.”

  * * *

  The FBI director looked at the report and grimaced. According to not only the CDC point people but FBI labs, there was zero evidence that this Shull kid had any background, contact or access to the Pacific Flu. There was lots on his computers, not to mention his blog, the YouTube videos, which he’d actually found really useful explaining how this bug worked, about “dual expressionism.” What there wasn’t was a scrap of the actual bug or any references to it. All the kid had worked with was “non human-pathogenic” materials. Mostly something called “coliphage lambda,” whatever the hell that was. There was less evidence of H7D3 in the Shull home than in, say, the front lobby of the J. Edgar Hoover building. Which another report had just noted was lousy with the stuff.

  He decided to let the attorney general and the Bureau’s lawyers worry about it . . .

  “There are still conditions under which he could be a questionable actor,” he typed into the memo. “Change his status to material witness and give him to the CDC. Keep somebody on him and don’t let him slip away.”

  * * *

  “My client is only guilty of an extremely important scientific breakthrough . . .”

  Dr. Curry thought you really had to love the caption: “Pacific Flu Killer’s attorney.” They didn’t even have the poor attorney’s name displayed.

  “The FBI has shown no proof that my client had any part in creating the flu . . .”

  Which, from everything Curry was scanning—which was probably more than the attorney was being given access to—was true. Or at least the only part the kid had played was breakthrough synbio. Which meant he was going to have a fun time convincing the DOJ he wasn’t guilty. Assuming the world didn’t come apart entirely, the upside was that he’d be able to sue the crap out of the federal government and get more scholarships than you could shake a stick at.

  Right now that didn’t look likely.

  “And I’ll remind the media of the FBI’s
record in high-profile cases. Richard Jewel, a hero who was arrested and immediately publicly condemned. Dr. Steven Hatfill, a researcher assisting the FBI who was publicly charged in the anthrax case . . .”

  “Great way to make friends there . . .”

  * * *

  “Shull isn’t your culprit,” Dr. Dobson said wearily.

  “We’re still trying to determine his part in this,” the FBI deputy director for terrorism replied.

  “His part was to create one of the necessary technological conditions,” Dobson said, as patiently as he could. “That’s it. He made a breakthrough. The same thing could be said for dozens of professional researchers. You might as well indict Alfred Nobel for every IED in Iraq. And I’d really prefer you didn’t lock them all up. We need them. As we need Shull. He’s the expert on dual expression. Nobody had even looked at it before he did. So, sure, keep him in custody, but if you don’t put him on a plane to Atlanta by the end of the day, I’ll let you explain it to the news media and the President. And I want my people talking to him within the hour. He didn’t make the virus, but he understands it in a way we don’t . . .”

  * * *

  “The Department of Education has mandated a total shutdown of all public and private schools starting Monday . . .”

  “School’s out for summer . . .” Dr. Curry crooned, looking at the latest spread graphs. Only Sunday and they’d gone from dots on the West Coast to spreading red in every reporting zone across the globe. And the “Save the Planet” deodorizers had been found in dozens of public locations stretching up and down the eastern and western seaboards. Somebody had been a busy little beaver. “School’s out forever . . .”

  * * *

  “Okay, first of all . . .” Dr. Karza said, shaking his head at the scene in the interrogation room. “Get him out of the cuffs.”

  “Doctor . . .”

  “Just get him out of the cuffs, you dick-brained myrmidon!” Karza snarled. “He’s not going to be able to think if he thinks he’s on his way to Gitmo and WE NEED HIS BRAIN!”

  He waited until the agent had released Shull and left.

  “Idiots,” Karza said, shaking his head again. “I mean, not actual idiots. They’re smart. They just aren’t bio smart. And that scares them. And I didn’t literally mean we need your brain, just in case you were wondering . . .”

  “I didn’t make the virus,” Tim said, rubbing his wrists. “Please, I really didn’t! I’m worried about catching it!”

  “I know,” Karza said, nodding. “My lab processed the hell out of yours. There were zero pathogens in your lab and I’m pretty sure from the looks you hardly ever went out. And eventually they’ll figure the same thing out.”

  “I really don’t,” Tim said, hunching up. “Not since I left school.”

  “Sorry about the master’s thing,” Karza said, shrugging. “I know Dr. Wirta. He’s a dick and not nearly as important as he thinks he is in the field. I’m Dr. Azim Karza from the CDC, by the way. And while I’ll admit you have more problems than I do, try being the lead investigator on a bio-terror attack while being Islamic, born in Iran and with a name like Azim Karza.”

  “I can imagine,” Tim said, chuckling and sniffling at the same time.

  “Your mom is fine, sort of,” Karza said. “She’s been released and she’s gotten you a lawyer. Who, for all sorts of Patriot Act reasons, isn’t going to be able to help you any time soon. On the other hand, CDC is on your side. We get how the DOJ reacts in these sorts of things. They think about the perp walk and calming the public because, just because you have the culprit the plague is going to stop all by itself! We react differently. Which is why I’m here. We’re going to be moving you to Atlanta pretty soon. Not the Pen, to CDC. FBI and DOJ are still going to be going apeshit and asking all sorts of questions you can’t answer. That’s because they don’t know which questions to ask.

  “We know you don’t know how to make a vaccine, or a ‘cure,’ as the FBI keeps insisting. They’ve been watching too many movies. ‘What’s the cure?’ They don’t like ‘There isn’t one, even theoretically.’ But what we need is your knowledge of dual expression. So what we’d like you to do is go with the flow for the time being. You’re under arrest, but as of this point you’re also one of our research associates. Until DOJ can get over ‘he had to have made the virus’ they’ll probably insist on treating you like a criminal. Let them. Cooperate with them. Be polite. Keep your head down. If we, that meaning the CDC, can possibly get one of our people along the whole time, we will. And he or she will be there to both pick your brain and keep the Fibbies from getting berserk. Let your lawyer work on getting you out and work with us on finding a vaccine. Deal? At the very least it’s going to make their argument that you must have done it because you can a little weaker. The term is ‘cooperation.’ Goes loads with judges.”

  “Absolutely,” Tim said, nodding vigorously. “I mean, a chance to work with the CDC on this is like a dream come true. I really, really want to help!”

  “Good,” Karza said. “Good. Now: how in the hell did you get a DNA virus to express an RNA virus? That right there was effing brilliant.”

  * * *

  “These are all the points to two hours ago where the canisters have been reported,” the agent said, pointing to a dot-filled map. “The red dots are where they are presently and have been verified by removal teams or local police. The yellow dots are reports from owners or managers where they were reported to have been seen and removed prior to determining the spread method.”

  “That’s . . .” the President said, looking at the map. “There’s a line . . .”

  “The unsub appears to have worked down the West Coast to Los Angeles,” the attorney general said, working from notes. “Then Interstate 10 to its joining with I-20. From there the unsub continued to I-95. Indications are that the unsub then went north through the Washington–New York–Boston corridor, then down again into Florida. The indications are that it was one unsub or unsub team. If there were more they would have been expected to spread out. This is definitely a single movement. Because the pathogen was initially . . .” He consulted his notes for a moment. “Because it was asymptomatic at first, there was no indications for some time this was a bioweapons attack. Current estimates are that the unsub could have completed most of this spread within the period prior to the neurological symptoms outbreak.”

  “Any idea who he or she or they are?” the President asked.

  “We have a number of working suspects, Mr. President . . .”

  “So do we,” the director of National Intelligence said. “Al Qaeda being at the top of the list . . .”

  “That’s an absolutely unfounded attack, Director,” the secretary of state said.

  “Oh? Really? Shall I count the ways . . . ?”

  * * *

  “Welcome to the Centers for Disease Control, Mr. Shull,” Dr. Dobson said.

  Shull started to hold out his hand, then pulled it back.

  “Nothing against you,” Dr. Dobson said hastily.

  “No, sir, Doctor,” Shull said, just as quickly. “I . . . I guess I’m having a bad protocol day.”

  “We’re having a more or less ongoing teleconference this way,” Dobson said, gesturing for the former master’s candidate to precede him. “I’d like to say . . . Not sure where to start. First of all, your dualistic expression is an amazing breakthrough, especially with limited resources . . .”

  “My dad had a lot of insurance,” Tim said, shrugging uncomfortably. “After . . . Stanford I just sort of . . . I guess I got obsessed. And I was right. You can get a dualistic expression!” He paused as he remembered what his breakthrough had been used for. “Is this how Oppenheimer felt after Hiroshima?”

  “Probably,” Dr. Dobson said, nodding sympathetically. “Through here . . .”

  * * *

  “Mr. Shull has yet to be fully exonerated by the DOJ,” Dr. Dobson said. “But the CDC is satisfied that, while he may have discovered a
method of dualistic expression, he did not develop the H7D3 virus. He is, however, the only one who knows anything about dualistic expression. Dr. Addis?”

  “Pasteur . . .”

  “Mr. Shull, from what we have gleaned from your videos, the expression is two fully separate viruses. To be clear, the secondary virus is also able to replicate?”

  “Yes, D-Doctor . . .” Tim said nervously. “It of course depends on what you want to replicate as the secondary expression. But a secondary expression can be a replicable organism. My initial experiments were with a nonreplicating secondary expression but . . . Yes, Doctor.”

  “Pass . . .”

  “Hong Kong . . .”

  “Mr. Shull, as with these others, I’d like to add my congratulations on your breakthrough,” Dr. Bao said. “However it has been used. The question is whether in your opinion a vaccine against the secondary expression alone would work?”

  “I believe so, Doctor,” Tim said, his brow furrowing in thought. “There is no reason that it should not. I . . . I was following the progress of the information about the pathogen before the dualism was identified. And I’d like to congratulate you, as well, Doctor. I read the draft paper before . . . before . . . Very brilliant. Just really . . . uh . . . The thing is that even before that I was . . . wonder . . . More like worrying that it was a dualistic pathogen. The . . . change in effect was what I would have expected to see with a dualistic pathogen. And . . . and . . . the period of fever after the primary pathogen has effectively run its course . . . That’s signs of a dualistic. And the secondary pathogen has to then spread in the . . . the host. . . . So a vaccine targeted against the secondary expression . . . Yes, yes, it should work . . .”

  “We’ve already started experiments with the Pasteur method here at CDC,” Dr. Dobson said. “The problem is the question of if it’s affecting the primary pathogen.”