Today We Die (The Killing Sands Book 1)

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Today We Die (The Killing Sands Book 1) Page 9

by Daniel Wilde


  Minister Chalthoum is contacting us, this conversation could be interesting.

  “Welcome back Minister,” I said.

  “Hi dad,” Anta said.

  “Thank you Doctor Bader. Hello again Anta. I’ve good news. Authorities are presently coordinating emergency plans and will soon begin the process of setting up a quarantine boundary around El-Alamein and the Depression, as you previously requested. Nobody arrives and nobody leaves—including the two of you, unfortunately. But I will search for a way to get you out. We have to be sure, however, that you have not contracted any illness which you may spread outside the quarantine. You understand that, right Anta?”

  Anta looked wary, and nervous, but replied, “Yes. I understand. We’ll be fine with our chem suits.”

  “That’s good. Doctor Bader, what will you be looking for to determine whether bacillus anthracis has spread to the human population? And what can we have our people inside the quarantine zone look for?”

  “That question isn’t nearly as difficult to answer as some of your others Minister. Of course, my answer will be based upon information we have from historical sources. Remember that we haven’t seen a biological outbreak of any significance in over 40 years, and this strain of anthrax contains additional unknown elements. So, what we could have expected to see then, and what we may expect to see now, may not be the same; but I hope that they are similar. That would certainly make this easier.

  “So, we need to be looking for what appears to be ordinary flu-like symptoms. In the case of a large-scale anthrax outbreak, which we could, hypothetically, see here, it would be likely that within 24–36 hours after the outbreak, some small percentage of individuals, like those with compromised immune systems, or those who have been exposed to a large dose of the organism due to proximity to the release point, will become ill with some of the classical symptoms and signs like fever, cough and shortness of breath. Thereafter, the greater population will begin experiencing the same symptoms. If there are more than a few hospitalizations with these symptoms, we’ll know we’re in trouble. So, we need to be ready with treatment, if possible.”

  “Can it actually be treated Doctor?” the Minister asked.

  “Well, remember that we’re probably dealing with some mutated or evolved form of bacillus anthracis, of which we know very little at this point. Bacillus anthracis in its prior constitutions was easily treatable with suitable antibiotics. We can only hope that modern antibiotics will be as effective.”

  “Indeed,” Minister Chalthoum replied. “I will have my team begin assembling the information necessary to acquire such antibiotics after you send me data as to the composition of such medication, if you can.”

  Minster Chalthoum’s whole persona had changed over the past hour. It was remarkable! I had been mildly afraid of him prior to this conversation, but now he seemed humble and appeared to be both capable and willing to rely on me for advice.

  “I will, certainly,” I replied. “In fact, I can find that and send it while we’re talking.”

  “Excellent. Thank you. May I ask a few more questions of you Doctor, if you’re not too busy?”

  “Absolutely,” I replied. If I’m not too busy? Of course I was busy. I was busy with this. What happened to his bravado and his machismo? The guy was breaking down. I wondered if Anta had ever seen this side of her dad.

  “Thank you Doctor. If you have a theory, I’d be very interested to know from where this may have come? From where it originated, I mean—apart from the cave.”

  “That, I don’t know. But the notepad Anta sent you could answer that question. But while we’re waiting for that to be translated, I think that you and Anta should both understand what I know. Perhaps, together, we can think through this and come up with some solutions to future problems, and maybe even figure out the source. I assume you still want to keep this under wraps for a while?”

  “Yes. That is what my superiors tell me. They don’t even want the IWO to know for fear of leaks, which could lead to hysteria, particularly here, in Egypt. But once the quarantine is in place, there will really be nothing to keep the IWO from learning of the situation.”

  “Okay. Let me start from the beginning. Historically, nearly all classical biological diseases began with animals, the only notable exception being smallpox. So, with any biological outbreak, it was nearly always true that animals became ill either simultaneously with, or even earlier than humans. There have been hundreds, or even thousands of instances of biological or viral outbreaks throughout our history, most of which followed that pattern.

  “Many of these outbreaks have caused death, and any of them, if merged with another disease, could theoretically create some kind of super-illness. That may be a possibility here, but the additional elements I discovered didn’t show up in the data register. While Anthrax has never been considered transmissible between humans, when fused or amalgamated with any other communicable respiratory disease, it could potentially become very dangerous due to the ease of transmissibility of the disease. Certain transmissible respiratory illnesses have already destroyed whole populations, albeit many, many years ago. The theoretic combination of any such disease with Anthrax could be a very bad thing.”

  “Can you give me an example of what you’re talking about?” the Minister asked.

  “Sure. Smallpox, which first showed up around 10,000 BC I think, killed something like 400,000 Europeans per year near the end of the 18th century. It was responsible for a third of all blindness. Smallpox was responsible for an estimated three hundred to five hundred million deaths during the twentieth century. Thankfully, the World Health Organization certified the total eradication of smallpox in 1979.

  “The Bubonic Plague, believed to be the cause of the ‘Black Death’ in Europe during the fourteenth century, was another one. It killed 50 million people in the Roman Empire alone beginning in the sixth century. It killed another twenty-five million people, in Europe centuries later. The Bubonic Plague came around a third time in the mid-nineteenth century killing another 12 or 13 million people.”

  “Should I continue Minister?”

  “Yes. This is fascinating. Thank you for asking.”

  “There was an unusually deadly H1N1 flu pandemic between 1918 and 1920. It was believed to have infected 500 million people across the world, including remote Pacific islands and the Arctic. It killed between fifty and a hundred million people.

  “There were also a few smaller-scale epidemics more recently—SARS, MERS, Ebola, to name a few—that scared people pretty bad but didn’t end up doing near as much damage as their predecessors.

  “As you can see, biological diseases, and viral diseases for that matter, are nothing to take lightly, even though we’ve come a long way in preventing and treating them. That’s why the quarantine is so important. Hopefully, if anything happens, the quarantine will stop the spread of the disease before it gets out of hand.”

  “Could this be some kind of attack, from a man-made agent?” Minister Chalthoum asked. “It seems so unlikely given the world’s political climate, but maybe. What do you think Doctor?”

  “Well, the weaponization of biological agents has never been a real threat.”

  “What do you mean?” the Minister asked.

  “What I mean is that, while biological weapons have been weaponized, they haven’t resulted in near as much damage as non-weaponized strains of the same agents. Several known agents were, at one time or another, considered suitable for weaponization, including Bacillus anthracis. Theoretically, some combination of agents could morph into a deadly biological agent to be used in war. But that has rarely been accomplished.

  “The agent in the cave man, however, although resembling Bacillus anthracis, is clearly something more. There may have been a natural morphing of the disease or some kind of adaptation of the classical biological agent; or, possibly, the intentional modification of it. So, like many other questions, that’s something we can’t really know without further te
sting and/or the notes in that notepad.”

  “How can we know,” the Minister asked, “or when will we know, whether this disease is going to become a problem for us? I can’t begin to tell you how worried I am about this.”

  “As I said before, we’re looking for classic flu-like symptoms; coughing, fever, headaches, breathing problems. If we see an unusual amount of hospitalizations with these symptoms in the next few days, we’ll know we’ve got a real problem. If we see anything like that in Mr. Shafik, I’ll begin to get worried.”

  “I see. What do you propose we do at this point Doctor?”

  “You’ve already started. First, get the antibiotics I requested. Second, keep the quarantine up until we have something more to go by. And third, get that journal translated, quick. Anta and I will begin earnest communication with others in our field to try to figure this out.”

  “Father?” Anta said with an obvious attempt to control her emotion.

  “Yes dear?”

  “I love you. Please tell mother that I love her too.”

  “I will Anta. I love you also. I’m so proud of you. Keep your head up. You and Doctor Bader are doing wonderful things that could end up saving many lives. Thank you. And, thank you Doctor Bader.”

  “My pleasure, Minister. We’ll contact you again as soon as we have more information.”

  With the holo ended, Anta turned to face me, laid her head on my shoulder and broke down. She cried for several long minutes, but not in that deep sobbing way that people cry when they’ve lost a loved one. Her cries were those born of sorrow over what may be—not what is. I was hopeful that “what may be” would never come to pass.

  For a moment after Anta laid her head on my shoulder, I didn’t know what to do with my hands and they hung limply at my sides. I argued with myself for a few seconds about the correct action to take, and finally concluded that it was ok to comfort her; so I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and patted her on the back in a “fatherly” way.

  “Anta.” I spoke softly. “In the event any spores traveled from the cave body into the immediate vicinity, then the government-created quarantine zone should act to contain any contagion to people already in the wind zone north of the Qattara Depression, unless and until the wind changes direction.” Then I thought to myself, I hope that we put on Anta’s chem suits before any exposure ourselves. The day of our arrival in El-Alamein was a calm day—a break between storms—so we might be okay. Time will tell.

  “While I was waiting for you to call your father earlier, I considered whether there was any way Mr. Shafik could take us back out into the Depression tomorrow. I called him to talk. While we were talking, he had a coughing spell, which he passed off as too much dust in his lungs. I hope that’s all it amounts to. The next few days will tell I guess. Anyway, he’s received a nebule pulmonary injection. He confirmed that he’s keeping this all quiet. So that’s good.”

  “Good,” Anta replied.

  January 7, 2093—Egypt VIII Space Log

  Takeoff: January 6, 2093, 1800 hours EET.

  Acquired Destination: International Lunar Space Station, United States Moon Colony. Operating Time: 6 hours, 17 minutes

  Arrival time: 0517 LT (Lunar Time)

  Status: All systems operative and functional within calculated parameters throughout voyage.

  Personnel/Passenger anomalies:

  Dr. Jafari Ghannam (Cairo, Egypt): mild cough. Attempted treatment with nebule pulmonary injection, no recovery prior to disembarkation.

  Miss Shani Ghannam, age 7 (Cairo, Egypt): mild cough. Attempted treatment with nebule pulmonary injection, no recovery prior to disembarkation.

  Ms. Schent Wasom (Asyut, Egypt): injury to left index finger, broken glass from cracked water container. Cleaned, bandaged.

  Ms. Alexi Streven (Houston, Texas, United States of America): headache. Treated with Ibuprofine, recovered prior to disembarkation.

  January 8, 2093, very early—Anta

  Sheesh Dad, it’s the middle of the night. Dad’s communication contains the following information from the Egypt Health and Population Ministry Computer Databank, dated today, January 7, 2093:

  Following data received from agent Anta Chalthoum, on the ground in El-Alamein, quarantine is in effect for El-Alamein and 40 kilometers north thereof; also 20 kilometers east, west and south of the outer border of the Qattara Depression beginning at 2230, January 7, 2093 and continuing indefinitely. No person without authorization may pass through quarantine zone until quarantine restrictions are lifted.

  Restrictions have been communicated to all requisite personnel inside and out of the quarantine zone, including international officials within the IWO responsible for the safety of its member citizens.

  Good to know. Shift will be pleased. I’ll tell him in the morning. He’ll probably make some joke that I don’t understand, in his dorky, scientific language. And I’ll laugh because I’m such a nice girl.

  I guess Dad’s goal of keeping this a secret didn’t work out. The IWO knows. That’s probably for the best.

  January 8, 2093—Shift

  Mr. Shafik, despite his continued coughing this morning, assured us that he was fine. He gave us directions to help us maneuver in the Qattara Depression again. We were trying, without much hope, to find the two bodies. No luck. The trip wasn’t wasted though. We found the body of a gazelle in a little grove of Acacia raddiana. Performing the role I’m being heartily paid for, I cut open the body, from the sternum all the way down. The smell that had so rudely accosted us when we found the body grew a thousand fold. I nearly passed out, seriously, despite the odor dampening capabilities of our Chem suits.

  The inside of the gazelle’s body, just like the three human bodies, had begun to dissolve, for lack of a better word, from the inside out. Unlike the human cave body, though, the gazelle still had most of its internal organs, albeit in various states of decay. It clearly died within the past couple of days. It still had dark, wet blood throughout the inside of the body cavity that looked like oil in the bright sunshine. More blood stained its fur around small holes that looked like bite marks, probably from other hungry animals. Great. The smell, of course, was seriously nasty.

  “I have a bag for that,” Anta offered as I removed a specimen from what I think was an intestine. I placed the specimen in the small, clear, plastic, resealable specimen bag she held open.

  “Are you my lab assistant now?” I replied as calmly as I could while trying not to breathe in the overwhelming odor.

  “You only have two hands.” She chuckled as she opened another bag for me. We continued this way until we had gathered organ, skin, bone and hair specimens and stashed them inside the pockets of our suits.

  “How can you handle the smell?” I questioned, a bit sarcastically.

  “It’s my Egyptian iron stomach; blood of the Pharoahs, you know. That, and the Vaseline I just rubbed under my nose,” she added with a wink and a smile.

  “Does that really work? Give me some.”

  The flies and other bugs gathering to aid in their God-given role of spreading crap around the Earth were awful. Before long, Anta could no longer repress a gag. I glanced over at her and watched her as she tried to keep her breakfast where it belonged. I silently thanked her. I didn’t want her to get me started. How would we even clean up puke inside our chem suits?

  With specimens stored away, we moved to the shady side of a nearby dune and sat. Anta closed her eyes and leaned back against the dune while I retrieved the specimens and my Biopen. Anta opened her eyes and started to sit forward, saying she needed to help. I could see she was still struggling with her stomach and told her to relax while I ran the first analyses. Since the Biopen had already analyzed the cave body specimen, which took several hours, it would take much, much less time this time around if the gazelle turned out to contain the same disease.

  “I won’t let you miss out on anything,” I offered in conclusion. Then, “I guess the Vaseline reached its limit?” She r
olled her eyes and moaned.

  Upon data analysis of the gazelle specimens with my Biopen, I found quantities of the same biological agent found in the cave body. I let out a frustrated “Cripes!”

  Without moving or opening her eyes, Anta said, “The gazelle died from the same thing, didn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I continued in frustration. “There’s nothing else around here, or on the body, that shows death from anything else as a possibility. The bite marks are too small to have caused death. They’re only flesh wounds, probably received after the animal died. So, the gazelle died from the same cause as the cave man and the other two men.”

  The pattern was disturbing.

  Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on one’s perspective, after returning from the desert this afternoon, Anta and I went straight to our hotel rooms. We were locked down as a result of the quarantine that we requested, so there wasn’t any place else to go.

  “I’ve just sent my findings to the University of Colorado Biological Research Department head, my friend, Dr. John Silitzer,” I explained to Anta while we waited for our dinner. “He assured me that this information is now his top priority. Having gone to college with this guy, I know he’s smart, about as smart as they come; but he’s also a little unreliable, like a horny college frat boy on a Friday night. He better not screw this up. I hope to hear from him by morning with information about what this agent is, how it might be transmitted, and what can be done about it. I’m considering who else to tell, in case John falls asleep on the job.”

  “That’s a little harsh isn’t it? You say he is your friend and you talk about him like that.” Anta was clearly amused.

  “Of course, you’re right. But this is too important and too urgent for him to mess it up.”

  While Anta and I were enjoying a lovely meal of . . . something unidentifiable from the processors on the wall, we were com’d by Mr. Shafik. He stated that his cough has taken a turn for the worse and the pulmonary injection hasn’t done a thing. According to his doctors, that treatment works to stop coughing, for nearly every person, in nearly every instance of coughing, from nearly every cause. So, this is something different. Doctors from the local hospital are running tests even though he’s still confined to the quarantine cell. I decided that I would check on him in the morning—by holo, not in person.

 

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