by Daniel Wilde
Anyway, their argument centered on the potential methodologies for the distribution of any vaccine that might be created. That’s something we’ve been talking about these days—a lot.
Shift had suggested again, as we’ve all discussed several times, that the best approach would be to travel around in a small group, or several groups, loaded with vaccine, and administer the vaccine to every living person we see. His thinking is that, if someone can be saved, he or she should be.
Dr. Bodily vehemently argued that such a method would be “madness”. She insisted that only those deemed fit and able should be vaccinated in order to ensure the “survival of the fittest”. She seemed so angry about it.
Upon Shift’s suggestion that all life has value and that each person, regardless of their current situation, should have the opportunity to live, Dr. Bodily became enraged. I don’t know why. Taking several steps toward Shift, who bests her in height by more than six inches and in weight by at least 50 pounds, Dr. Bodily began to rain down flawed arguments, in virtual torrents, in favor of the survival of only those who have the health, stamina, appearance, intelligence, energy, and motivation to ensure that our race can continue after this crisis. She said this is the perfect opportunity to purify the human race. Yeah, she actually said that—out loud.
Shift reminded her that Adolf Hitler had the same agenda, which caused her face to go bright red and her body to quake with rage. I guess she knows enough about history to know who Adolf Hitler was.
Thankfully, some of the gentlemen around, who had until this time listened attentively to the arguments of both sides, stepped in and restrained Dr. Bodily. It’s a good thing too; if it had come to blows, she would have faired much worse than Shift. I wouldn’t have cared though. She’s psycho.
After Dr. Bodily was physically escorted to her room to ponder her approach to verbal disagreements, a small group of us who had listened to the arguments on both sides of the debate sided with Shift, again.
Today is the second time, in two days, that Dr. Bodily has appeared unstable. Yesterday it was Shift, but today, she chose an even more formidable opponent—one she didn’t see coming. I hope Yurgi’s reproach humbled her a bit. Otherwise, she might pick a fight that doesn’t end only in a verbal reprimand.
In any event, even though Shift’s approach is how we’ll likely proceed, as it stands, only the “fittest” will survive anyway, since not many people beyond those already housed in bunkers are likely to live; and, we know that most of the government-built and operated bunkers were housed with people whom the government deemed to be among the “fittest” in our society. And now we have reason to believe that even some of the “fittest” may have died. Of course, even amongst our small group, I’m sure there would be disagreement in opinion as to what constitutes “fittest”.
April 30, 2093—Shift
Three days ago, Mike was finally able to access the last IWO USCAN system—somewhere out in China. Even though we’ve been looking at USCAN daily for weeks, taking turns, for hours on end, we’ve spent the last three days carefully looking at live footage from around the world. We’ve been systematically documenting what we see in each country and in the various major cities across the globe.
It’s been a miserable and depressing task. Dr. Nelise Fabrisio and Dr. Annabelle Wentworth, a couple of geniuses, have done some crazy, complicated calculations. Based upon our records and viewings, they estimate that as many as 5.5 billion people have now died from Anthrax E and/or the widespread violence that exists outside our protected bunker!
Using those same mathematical calculations, the good doctors estimate that, by May 15, just over two weeks from now, over 9 billion people will be dead. By the end of May, all that will be left alive are those who are immune, those left in bunkers, those who may have found some kind of temporary shelter, and those who may be vaccinated, if any. The prospects are awful. Even though the mood around here has become better as a result of Dr. Shevchuk’s recent successes, this news is awful and frightening. I don’t know how to express it in any other way.
The Net these days has very little new information about anything of substance. There aren’t many people left to input the stuff. What is going up on the Net, besides disgusting images of death by still-living psychopaths, are speeches from religionists around the world who are preaching fire and damnation. Others are preaching salvation and eternal life. Political leaders have mostly vanished. Either they’re dead or they’ve gone into hiding, using their status to secure placement in one of the several bunkers that have been built over the past 60 days worldwide.
Where do we go from here? Anta and I have talked about that question a dozen times over the last month. What is there to do? I feel such a pull of intense emotion threatening to drown me in sorrow. But I also have feelings of hope.
Dr. Shevchuk’s team is getting closer and closer to a human vaccine. The animals they began testing about two weeks ago are still alive! We expect that, any day now, Dr. Shevchuk will announce a plan to test his vaccine on a human subject. Who that will be is unknown. Perhaps it should be me.
While I could easily suffer a horrifying and painful death under the tests, my chance of survival is slim anyway, just like everybody else. Certainly, any person’s survival will be limited and miserable into the foreseeable future. I imagine there are others who are thinking similar thoughts. It may be that many of us will volunteer to be tested. I’ll be thinking and praying on the matter.
May 1, 2093—Dr. Steven Porter
Jon is alive!!!!! At least he was 3 weeks ago. I can’t believe it! I’ve got to get to him!
How can this be? Maybe he’s immune. The young mother and her daughter who are here from Egypt are each immune, so we know it can happen. The medical doctors here tell us that the Safars’ immunity is genetic and was passed from mother to daughter. That means that maybe I’m immune too, because, clearly, my sweet wife was not.
Mike came across a post from Jon this morning while scouring the Net for survivor posts. Apparently, Jon’s been using different message boards to try to contact me, or anyone.
April 9, 2093—Jon Porter (14-year-old son of Dr. Steven Porter)
“Mom is dead. Katie and Shanna died soon after. Baby Justin died last while I held him in my arms. I cried all the tears I had when he died last week, just after my sisters. Then came the fear. Dad is somewhere on the east coast, but I don’t know where. I was trying to contact him using the access ports Mom was using, but that didn’t work. Mom never told me how to contact Dad. I think she wasn’t supposed to.
“The heating at the house went out for some reason yesterday. I don’t know how to operate the heat, but we have an old, portable natural gas heater in the basement that grandpa gave us a few years back. I brought it upstairs. While I was trying to start the little fire with some matches, I made a mistake or something. The awesome house Dad built for us is now a heap of garbage. I blew up my house. The fire from that little match should not have been so big, but somehow it was.
I burned myself a little, but it’s cool. I’m now across the street at the Sorenson’s house. They aren’t here, neither are their bodies. So I don’t know what happened to them. Nobody burned the Sorenson’s house down though, so I guess I’ll stay here for now. I’m using Mr. Sorenson’s computer to upload this journal entry to a ton of public Net servers, hoping that Dad will find it, read it and know what happened to us.
“I’ve been alone for eight days. I don’t know if anybody on my street is alive. I look out the windows and I can’t see a single person, alive or dead. I feel really good though, except for the fear. I hear sounds in this big, strange house, and every sound I hear seems like it’s coming from behind a closed window or door. There’s probably some maniac trying to get in, grab all of the Sorenson’s fancy stuff, and then kill me. I’m not too valuable, but I feel like I have to protect this house I’m borrowing. I guess there’s probably nobody out there anyway.
“It’s kinda weird that
I’m alive. The news channels, before they crapped out, told us that the infection spreads so fast that if we get anywhere near someone who’s sick, we’ll get sick too. I don’t know if that’s all true though, since everyone in my family is dead (except Dad I hope) and I’m not even sick. Maybe I’m immune to it or something. I don’t know if that would be good or bad. How would I know? Do I have to stay in my neighbor’s house by myself for the rest of my life?
“Dad, if you read this, I don’t know how you can contact me, or whether you can. If you’re safe and can reach me, I’m at the Sorenson’s house. I can’t find any kind of communicator to give you their numbers. I’ll probably stay here for a long time, until everyone else in town is dead. Then, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Jon’s post gives me hope! I grieve for my Mary and the kids, but I’ve spent all of my tears on them already. I’ve assumed they were dead for a long time, since I haven’t received any communication from Mary since March 30, when all was well in my home. Thereafter, they must have gotten sick right away since I didn’t hear from them again. I know that this will hit me tonight, as I lay in bed preparing for sleep, but for now, even though Jon was with them when it happened, he didn’t get sick.
I have to go to him, but that can’t happen until there’s a vaccine. Maybe Yurgi will let me out of this bunker if I’m immune. But the only way to find that out is if I’m purposefully infected. Can I volunteer to test the vaccine? I don’t know if they’ll let me. Of course, I’ll be posting messages daily, on every public message board I can find on the Net, hoping that Jon will see that I am waiting for him, and reply.
May 2, 2093—Net post: Jon Porter (14-year-old son of Dr. Steven Porter)
“DAD! I saw your message! I’m still alive! The Sorenson’s house is great, but I’m scared and want you to come home. There’s nobody on our street. I haven’t gone outside in a long time and I want to play ball or golf, or do anything really. Come home, please!”
May 2, 2093—Net post: Dr. Steven Porter
“Jon! It’s so good to hear from you! I have thanked God a hundred times in the last few minutes for the fact that you are alive! I want you to know how proud I am of you! Your age hasn’t allowed you to experience all the things that would be required to survive in this world, and yet, you’ve done it! My wonderful son!
“I will come to you as soon as I can. I can’t possibly know how hard things are for you, but please understand that I can’t leave this compound until there is a vaccine. I have learned that immunity to Anthrax E is inherited, meaning that IF you are immune (which we don’t know), then there is a good chance that I am too. But there’s no test for that except to purposefully infect myself with the virus. I’m not prepared to do that, because if I’m not immune, I’ll die; and I can’t possibly do that to you and leave you alone.
“There’s good news though! The doctors and scientists with me have been able to finally figure out what they believe will be a vaccination. They’re going to begin testing today! If all goes well, then perhaps I’ll be able to leave here within 10-12 days.
“Stay strong son. I love you! I am so proud of you and I miss you so much. I’ll write on this board every day until I’m able to see you in person. In the meantime, I’m attaching to this post some directions for using the communication system so that we can talk through the Holos like we did when Mom and your siblings were still alive. The only problem will be if the Sorenson’s house isn’t set up to operate that kind of technology. You’ll have to figure that out with my instructions. Until then, I love you!”
May 2, 2093—Shift
The time has arrived for the testing of Shevchuk’s vaccine! Scientists around the world have been largely able to duplicate his results on animals of various types, depending upon what types of animals were available at each location. Shevchuk tells us that mammals of all sizes and shapes have proven immune after injection with the vaccine. He also says that some birds, reptiles and salt- and fresh-water aquatic animals have shown immunities.
Apparently, no testing location wants to be the first to test on humans, so Shevchuk has asked for volunteers. We just met and had a frank and exciting discussion of the potential ramifications of the testing. Shevchuk and his team answered every question as honestly as they could, or so it appeared. We’ll be meeting in three hours to determine who will be among the first test subjects.
May 2, 2093—Anta
“Why?!” I asked, unable to mask either my surprise or my disappointment.
“I needed to,” Shift repeated, more quietly this time.
“You crazy son-of-a-. . .! Sorry,” I said, trying to calm my emotions. “Why did you need to?”
“Well, somebody has to do it. My life is no more valuable than any other, is it?” He asked.
“Yes, Shift,” I replied. “Your life is more valuable than others, at least to me.”
“Oh.” He looked down at his feet, clearly uncomfortable.
“‘Oh!’ That’s all you have to say?” I asked, feeling frustrated.
“Well, no, that’s not all I have to say,” Shift replied. “But if I tell you what I really think, things may become awkward.”
“I think things are already awkward,” I said. “I don’t want you to risk your life. I want you to be with me, safe.”
“Anta, I want to be here with you too, safe; but what kind of life will we have if we have to stay in the bunker forever? We’ll die in here as surely as we could die out there. Someone has to stand up and make this happen. I can’t escape the feeling inside that it should be me. I’m sorry.”
“Well,” I said, “at least that’s better than ‘oh’.” I smiled, a bit sheepishly. I couldn’t help but feel proud of him for his bravery, even though the thought of him risking his life was killing me on the inside.
We spent the next few minutes discussing the situation. I tried, half-heartedly, to talk him out of it. Thankfully, six other people have also volunteered to become the first test subjects of Dr. Shevchuk’s possible vaccine. The ancient process of “drawing straws” will be invoked later today. At that time, any of the seven volunteers can withdraw their names from consideration. I don’t think Shift will withdraw. Of those remaining, the two with the shortest “straws” will be injected with Shevchuk’s vaccine, dubbed “E-rase”. I may literally pass out if Shift draws a short straw.
In addition to Shift, “Lucky” Rabene, Dr. Bodily, Dr. Case, Dr. Treggor, Dr. Porter, and “Street” Kimball have each volunteered. I knew that Street would. He’s become so incredibly helpful and wants to do anything he can for any of us. Dr. Porter is an interesting candidate. He may be immune—if his son is—which Dr. Shevchuk believes may be true. So, testing on him is probably not worthwhile because it could skew the results.
The thought of losing any of them saddens me, but the thought of losing Shift fills me with so much more sorrow—in an unimaginable way. The moment he raised his hand to volunteer, I felt a great weight press down on me, like that pressure when you turn really sharp, really fast in a hover, but more powerful. I had to hide my tears, as I’d done on more occasions than I liked to admit. After our conversation, I felt a little better, knowing that he was not doing it for any reason other than because it must be done.
What’s up with my feelings for him? He’s my colleague, not my lover. I’m desperately trying to push these stupid feelings down into the cracks between my toes unless and until Shift is ready for a relationship, if ever. But it kind of seems like it may happen, if he’s not dead in 10 days.
May 2, 2093—Shift
Although I volunteered, I wasn’t selected to be one of Shevchuk’s first two test subjects. I’m a little relieved. Lucky and Dr. Case drew the shortest “straws”. They were then placed into isolation bays and remotely injected with “E-rase”. Five or six days from now, if they haven’t developed any signs or symptoms of Anthrax E, we may be in luck.
In the meantime, we’ll continue to monitor the situation outside trying to locate any loca
tion to which we might be able to travel to give inoculations in the event E-rase is successful. I hope Lucky is as his nickname says.
Upon the wise suggestion of Mrs. Houghton, Mike and his team have also been looking for farms nearby with living animals. As Mrs. Houghton pointed out, if any of us live, we need to be able to survive for more than a couple of weeks. While the food processors may last a long time, we will still probably face a day when meat becomes necessary. Plus, who wants to live in a world without animals? I could probably do without some of the bugs, and maybe rats, but life would be less exciting without most of the others.
May 3, 2093—Staff Meeting—Hidden Bunker near Boston
“Damn it!” Yurgi yelled angrily as he marched into the conference room for an emergency staff meeting he had just called. His face was red to match the velvet of the upholstery in the conference room. “Who did this? Who did this?”
“Who did what?” Mike asked quietly. None of them had ever seen Yurgi mad. Upset, yes. Firm and demanding, certainly. But angry? Never.
“Anthrax E has been released into the air inside this bunker!”
Shouts of surprise echoed around the room. Instantly, several members of the group covered their mouths and noses with hands, shirts, jackets and pillows. Ms. Star Lawrence, a housekeeper from Massachusetts fainted. She fell and hit her head on the edge of the folding chair in front of her. General chaos continued for several moments until Dr. Shevchuk spoke again, this time more slowly and quietly, but with equal intensity. “Who. Did. This?”
The commotion and confusion stilled, almost instantaneously. Dr. Shevchuk’s mere presence in the room usually engendered respect and quiet. But now, with eyes burning, and a gaze so intense and fierce as to provoke total fear among the occupants of the small conference room, the silence was absolute. Not even the new, deep, ragged breathing of several members of the group could be heard for several seconds.