by P. R. Garcia
“Do I want to know how you managed that?” Dr. Q asked, a curious look on his face.
“I don’t believe so,” Max laughed. “I also have lots of pictures on a memory card.”
“No insects in your group?”
“Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get ahold of any flies, bees or beetles that had been infected. But it’s imperative we do. Once the laptop is up and running, I can hopefully get in contact with fellow disease experts around the world who can get access to them. I am particularly interested in discovering how vultures, Tasmanian devils and the coconut crabs on Bikini Atoll from the Marshall Islands reacted to the disease. These three are good representations of three animal phyla not usually affected by pathogens. They represent birds, mammals and crustaceans. If they go unscathed, this world just might have a chance.” Their guest stopped talking for a moment, removing his outerwear. Neither Dr. Q nor Gayle asked what would be the outcome if the three did get sick. They knew if the new virus affected these eaters of death, no one had a chance. “Oh, I almost forgot. I also gave your sister, Dr. Flanagan, a copy of all my reports. I saw her momentarily when I arrived aboard the naval ship. She sends her love and gave me a detailed report of her latest findings for you.”
“I understand wanting to know how vultures are faring,” Dr. Q stated. “And even the Tasmanian devils. But why coconut crabs? What could they possibly tell us?”
“Not just any coconut crabs, Dr. Q,” Max answered. “It has to be the ones that live on Bikini Atoll.” The confused look remained on Dr. Q and Gayle’s faces signaling further explanation was needed.
“You guys do know about Bikini Atoll, don’t you?”
“Not really,” Gayle said, looking at the doctor who shrugged his shoulders.
“On March 1, 1954, the U. S. government released the largest bomb ever tested,” Max began to explain. “It was a fifteen megaton Bravo Hydrogen Bomb that was a thousand times the magnitude of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs. It literally vaporized three of the Marshall Islands and killed everything. Ninety miles from the blast site, radioactive snow fell on fishing boats and naval vessels. Within hours, those men and the people on surrounding islands began showing signs of radiation poisoning. Eighty-three years later, humans still cannot live on the island due to radiation. Plants and animals have returned, but are inedible. They all contain high levels of radiation. While radioactive themselves, the coconut crabs eat the highly radioactive coconuts. If the crabs are not affected by this new virus, we just might be able to use radiation as a means to kill it.”
“You are a man of great knowledge,” Dr. Q chuckled, amazed at all this young man knew. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Just that today is your lucky day, Dr. Q,” Max replied as he carried the laptop over to the desk and plugged it into a power source. “Not only am I am Ebola expert, but I am also a top notched computer geek. I’ll have you up and running in no time. While I get us connected, why don’t you tell me what you have discovered so far? I need to compare your finding on the humans to my animal results.”
“Gayle, perhaps . . .” Dr. Q began.
“I know, go make the coffee. I think I liked it better when you were with the Australians.”
A NAME FOR A KILLER
“Glad to see the laptop worked,” the Admiral said upon seeing the haggard look of Dr. Quartermaine. “We were able to fill most of your supply needs from the ship’s medical dispensary, so we plan on making a drop to your location at 0-nine hundred tomorrow morning. The one microscope Mr. Stans ordered had to be requested. The University of New Zealand has thankfully offered to send you one along with a few other things their Biology Department thought you might need. Those items should arrive today at seventeen hundred. We’ll have to bring them the following day.”
“Thanks, Admiral. Our good Mr. Stans came up with a few more items for you to request.”
“What is he doing there? Establishing the most supplied, sophisticated lab in the world?”
“No, just trying to figure out why this disease can cross species and kill so quickly.”
“Have you come up with a name for it yet?”
“Actually we christened it last night. We decided on the Langlore-Oaks virus, in honor of its first two victims, students Cindy Langlore and Paul Oaks. LO, for short.”
“The LO Virus? You do realize that’s a little ironic. People are going to shorten virus to just the “v”, which gives us LOV. Since this thing kills everything, LOV is the last thing I would call it.”
“I know, Admiral,” Dr. Q replied, a look of amusement on his face. “We discussed putting Cindy’s name last and calling it the OL Virus, but we didn’t feel that was appropriate. She was the first victim and, therefore, should be mentioned first.”
“Couldn’t you have named it the Stevens virus, or the Q-strain?”
“No.”
“Then LOV it is. The press should have a field day with this.”
“Maybe it will give people one good last laugh,” Max suggested, poking his head into the view screen. “Have there been any more reports of contamination? Especially amongst animals?”
“There have been quite a few reports of both animal and human infections,” the Admiral said. “I believe Lt. Grissom is sending you the report now. This LO virus is spreading like wildfire.”
“Is it still contained below the equator except for London and New York?” a hopeful Dr. Q asked.
“There are three locations on the list that are above the equator,” the Admiral replied. “It appears the entire population of one thousand forty-eight individuals living in the area of Guanico Abajo, Panama, have been entirely wiped out. No survivors. Outbreaks are reported in Mangalore, India and the Nicobar Islands in the Andaman Sea. And I’m sorry to say that the disease in New York City has now spread as far north as Maine, as far south as Virginia and as far west as Indiana.”
“As the scavengers are spreading out, the disease is being spread,” Max commented. “Nothing outside that area?”
“No confirmed reports,” the Admiral answered. “I received word from the CDC that there might be outbreaks in California, Iowa, Texas and Lower Michigan.”
“Admiral, I suggest that you contact the CDC and advise them to close all borders,” Dr. Q said. “Both country, state and province. Limit all modes of transportation.”
“The CDC took that particular action the moment it was confirmed there was an outbreak in India,” the Admiral informed the two. “All borders are closed. All boat, train and air transportation have been halted. People around the world have been advised to stay put. The world is virtually at a standstill.”
“Admiral, you mentioned the spread outside of New York City,” Professor Dilbert said. She had been listening off to the side, but now ventured closer to the screen. “What does the city report? How bad had the disease spread there?”
The Admiral's face turned a ghostly white as if all the blood had been drained from his body by the disease. "We've heard nothing out of the city for almost thirty-six hours. Last night there were no lights on anywhere in the city, meaning there might not be anyone left to manage the electricity. Drones were sent in earlier today and revealed streets littered with the bodies of about every type of animal that lives there: humans, birds, cats, dogs, bats, opossums, raccoons, coyotes, and lots and lots of rats. Cars and trucks fill the streets as if people tried to escape but were unable to, and probably died in their cars. The drones also showed numerous floating bodies along the shore, along with various fish.”
“So it spread into the ocean,” Max commented.
“Apparently so.”
“If the disease is in the water, the ocean current is going to carry it right up the seaboard. All the way to St. John’s, Canada. Possibly even Greenland and Iceland. If it reaches there, it will continue to move over to the United Kingdom, Ireland and down through Europe. By the time it gets to Portugal, it will probably meet the strain currently creeping up the coast of West Africa.�
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“Dr. Q, I’ve been doing a lot of studying on Ebola and other viruses,” the Admiral announced. “And, Mr. Stans, you are the supposed expert on Ebola. Everything I’ve read states that Ebola cannot be transmitted by water. Yet this LO virus seems to relish furthering its spread using the liquid media. Even salt water, which is often harmful to viruses.”
“Actually, Admiral, that is a misconception,” Dr. Q stated. “Viruses do very well in salt water. In fact, in 2011, the University of California at Santa Barbara did a fascinating study on that very concept. I believe their paper was entitled ‘A Hundred Million Viruses in One Drop of Seawater’. I am sure it’s still available to read if you so choose.”
“In fact, Admiral, their case study and another one done at Scripps Institute of Oceanography in La Jolla, California, may both give you a clue as to what we believe may have actually destroyed the dinosaurs. Especially the marine life. While we have long believed that an asteroid hit may have ended the reign of the dinosaurs, why did it also kill almost all ocean life around the world? The truth is maybe it didn’t. Marine microbes make up ninety-five percent of ocean life. It’s the basis of the food chain. If this virus attacked the microbes back then, ocean life would have been almost entirely eliminated. And the weather would have dramatically changed. Believe it or not, microbes are responsible for weather also.”
“Numerous paleontologists now support Robert Bakker’s belief that dinosaurs were on the decline even before the asteroid hit,” Professor Dilbert added. “He believed that, due to illness and climate change, many species were already gone when the asteroid hit in Mexico.”
“Bakker, Bakker?” The Admiral thought carefully, trying to remember what he knew of the man. “Wasn’t he the controversial paleontologist that first hypothesized that dinosaurs were warm-blooded creatures? And wasn’t there some controversy between him and some scientist named Jack somebody?”
“Jack Horner,” Professor Dilbert specified. “It was believed that the two paleontologists were adversaries, but I’m not sure that was true. I think they were more like competitive colleagues. Their biggest dispute was over the Tyrannosaurus rex. Mr. Horner stated that the T-rex was a scavenger, while Mr. Bakker insisted it was a highly skilled hunter. There’s even a story that in the 1997 film Jurassic Park: The Lost World, the bearded paleontologist was a representation of Mr. Bakker. It’s said that the director, Steven Spielberg, had the paleontologist eaten by the T-rex as a favor to Mr. Horner.”
“I bet that made Bakker mad,” Dr. Q stated.
“Not at all,” Professor Dilbert laughed. “Mr. Bakker loved the portrayal. He even contacted Mr. Horner and said ‘I told you T-rex was a hunter.”
“Too bad they’re not still with us today,” Max said. “Perhaps they could shed some light on what’s happening.”
“I’m sure their work is available on the internet,” Professor Dilbert stated. “And, if I’m not mistaken, there was a Dr. Channing of Cambridge who, a few years ago, did an extensive study on a pre-asteroid decline in dinosaur species.”
“That might be something my sister can check into,” Dr. Q said. “Might she be around?”
“I’m here, Lachlan,” a female said as she poked her head around the Admiral. “We’ll talk once you and the Admiral are finished.”
“See you in a bit, Susie,” Lachlan smiled.
“I have a few more things to discuss, then you and your sister can talk to your hearts’ content,” the Admiral announced. “The first of which is your extraction. As Professors Stevens and Dilbert are aware of, their stay in Antarctica was to last only a few weeks. The window of opportunity is very short in the area. Soon, the snows of winter will be upon you. We need to extract your team and move you to a safe, isolated location where you can continue your research and remain quarantined at the same time. I know Dr. Silvas was working on the problem before she died, but I’ve not been able to learn if she had arrived at any conclusions or not. So we’re back to square one. So how and where?”
“The how I’ll leave to you,” Dr. Q replied. “Dr. Flanagan should be able to help with that. As long as proper precautions are taken such as biohazard suits for us and our extractors and a biohazard containment unit inside the plane, there should be little chance of us spreading the disease.”
“Where I see a problem is how to get you to the aircraft with the biohazard containment unit,” the Admiral said. “No matter if we pick you up from our Station or the Australian’s, the fact is you can only be airlifted out by helicopter. The nearest landing area for a plane is too far to reach by an arctic cat. So how do I keep the pilots safe on the chopper?”
Max thought for a moment. “Perhaps it would be easier to isolate the pilots instead of us. The cockpit could be sealed to prevent any pathogens from reaching them.”
“What do you think, Dr. Flanagan?”
“Sounds like a good solution,” Dr. Flanagan replied. “And as an added precaution, the inside of the chopper can be sterilized upon their departure. It should work.”
“Next, question, where?” the Admiral asked. “I can pretty much guarantee you that no country is going to let you step foot on their soil.”
“Give me twenty-four hours to think about this one,” Dr. Q replied. “We’ll need an isolated, sterile environment like here. Someplace where we don’t have to worry about our research being contaminated by rodents or insects.”
“What about Area 51? They have a cleanroom,” Professor Dilbert suggested.
“But what happens when the electricity goes out? Max asked. “The cleanroom would become a death trap.”
“I’m sure they have generators that are capable of maintaining the site for an extended period of time,” the professor answered.
“You’re right, Gayle,” Dr. Q stated. “The military would have generators. But Area 51 is too big, too well known. We need something smaller. Admiral, I am sure that the US government has tucked away somewhere a cleanroom capable of running years, perhaps decades, on its own power. That’s where we need to go.”
“I’ll contact the Pentagon and find out what they have,” the Admiral said. “Last on the list is your team. I have received over five hundred requests from scientists of various backgrounds from around the world to come and join your little trio.”
“A quartet,” Professor Dilbert quickly corrected the commander. “Professor Stevens is still alive.”
“I’m sorry. Your quartet. Thankfully, due to the restrictions on travel, none have been able to show up unannounced as our Mr. Stans did.”
“Just shows I have more imagination than they do,” Max beamed. “I had to get pretty creative in finding ways to slip in and out of those countries.”
Ignoring the young male’s boasting, the Admiral continued. “Before the military is also closed down, are there any colleagues you want to join you? Other CDC members, pathologists, paleontologists, historians? Anyone?”
“Bringing in anyone from the outside risks us being exposed to what they may be carrying,” Dr. Q answered. “So far, we seem to be immune to the LO virus. If it should mutate even the slightest, we might not be resistant to the new strain. I’m not sure we can chance to bring anyone else in.”
“But, by leaving potential helpers outside, we run the risk of them contracting the disease and dying on us,” Max added. “Plus, once the electric grid goes down worldwide and, trust me, it will, we will have no way of communicating with them. If we have any hope of solving this dilemma, we need them with us.”
“He’s right, Lachlan,” Professor Stevens said as he groggily walked into the room. “Brilliant minds aren’t going to do you any good if you can’t talk with them.”
“Alex, you shouldn't be out of bed,” Professor Dilbert protested.
“I am feeling better,” he responded. “Indulge me, Gayle. I’m the one who caused this catastrophe. It’s my responsibility to solve it.”
“It’s not your fault,” Professor Dilbert said.
“Sure i
t is,” the professor answered, plopping down in a nearby chair. “I was the eager beaver who had to rush in and start dissecting the Stevosaurus. I should have waited until the new generators arrived. I let my ego cloud my judgment. And look at the outcome.”
“While it may be your fault that you did not take the necessary precautions, you are not responsible for the real culprit – global warming,” Dr. Q said. “We are all to blame for that, especially the scientists and bureaucrats. We scientists should have made people see that global warming was real, what it meant. We should have scared the crap out of the general populous and made them change their ways. Bureaucrats should have cared more for their constituents than their pocketbooks.”
“People see only what they want to,” they heard Dr. Flanagan comment. “If a change is needed that impacts their comfortable lives they will turn a blind eye and deaf ear. It wasn’t until the great oil spill in Alaska in 2021 that people finally accepted the dangers of offshore drilling. Of course, the spill wiped out the salmon, the narwhal and beluga whales and completely destroyed the environment.”
“We can debate whose fault this is later,” Dr. Q said. “Admiral, send me the list of volunteers. We’ll go over it and let you know.”
“I need your decision by tomorrow at a 0-twelve hundred. After that, I can’t guarantee I can get them to you.”
“Do you know something we don’t?”
“No, just a feeling. As soon as I hear back from the Pentagon on your cleanroom, I’ll give you a call. I’ll now turn this conversation over to your other, and I add, better half, Dr. Flanagan.”
Drs. Flanagan and Q, Professor Dilbert and Max spent the next two hours discussing their findings and proposed solutions. Although they had a wealth of information, a way to combat the virus could not be found. Nor could the reason of why it was crossing so many species’ barriers.