by Joe Nobody
The screen changed, displaying a schematic of the United States. “This is a time elapsed depiction based on the virus’s maturity in confirmed patients. It is next to impossible for nature to have accomplished such simultaneous and widespread distribution.”
Small red circles began to appear on the map, Chicago, Dallas, Washington, and Los Angeles among the dozens of locations were Ebola-B reared its deadly head, all of the cases reported within 20 hours of each other.
“We can also perform a time-lapsed backward tracking, sir. I believe this next presentation will make the source of the attack quite clear.”
The visual refreshed, and then small red dots began to appear. Slowly, a spider web of crimson crawled across the country, the effect like a rose blooming in fast-motion. The epicenter, or bud, was clear - Houston, Texas.
“Those sons of bitches,” mumbled the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “We had intercepted a lot of HAM radio traffic these last five weeks. Our intelligence people thought something was up, but no one had any idea it would be anything like this.”
“Wasn’t there an incident just last week, General?” the President asked. “Some sort of attack on our forces?”
“Yes, sir. It was a large IED used against the wall. The 7th suffered four causalities and the loss of a single tank. According to the local commander, his forces succeeded in capturing approximately 20 escapees.”
“What was the date?” asked the CDC’s head man.
The 5-star general turned and peered at a staffer and nodded, giving the subordinate permission to inform the gathering of the precise time and date.
“That matches perfectly,” the doctor announced after entering the parameter into his computer-generated model. “We’ve been attacked by our own people.”
The room fell quiet, everyone waiting for the president to speak. Before he could utter a word, one of the staffers noticed a new flash on one of the smaller monitors. “What the hell,” the aide muttered, pointing toward the screen.
Another staffer nodded at the man controlling the displays, and then the CDC physician’s image changed to a cable news station report.
“For the first time in months, we are receiving a direct contact from Houston, Texas. Approximately 15 minutes ago, our affiliate station in that city began uploading a pre-recorded video that we have now verified is authentic,” proclaimed the announcer.
The feed changed to a static-streaked, fuzzy image. An older man appeared, standing in front of a plain, whitewashed wall. “My name is Colonel Jack Taylor, United States Marine Corps, retired. At least I was retired. Most of you know that the President of the United States illegally quarantined my hometown of Houston, Texas. My fellow Houstonians have suffered badly as a result of this heinous act, millions upon millions dying painful, unnecessary deaths. It is the single greatest act of homicide in our nation’s history. In the past few months, our city has suffered more causalities than all of the armed forces of the United States in WWI and WWII combined.”
“Who is that guy?” someone blurted out before being shushed into silence.
The broadcast continued, “By now, most of you in our former country are aware that an outbreak of Ebola-B is occurring even as this broadcast is aired. I wanted each and every American to know that your former countrymen, the people of Houston, are to blame. You abandoned us. We were isolated, left to starve, suffer, and ultimately to die. Your government misled all of us then and continues to do so now. Washington spread lies and misinformation, cut off our communications, exaggerated the amount of food and critical supplies being delivered, and eventually wrote us off as a liability to be managed.”
The image of the stoic colonel disappeared, a sequence of still photographs flashing across the screen as his voice continued in the background.
“Over 600,000 children perished,” came Taylor’s voice as a picture showing a mountain of dead bodies was displayed. “At least 100,000 of those were due to starvation,” he continued, another image of protruding-rib, excessively thin kids rolled onto the screen.
Next came a video sequence, the cameraman walking along a seemingly endless row of dead bodies lying on the ground. The top of each skull was missing, clear evidence of exit wounds caused by bullets. “We ran out of pain medications just three weeks after the quarantine, the pain of Ebola-B is so severe that thousands of our fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers elected to end their own lives. Euthanasia was our only choice, ammunition the only item not in short supply.”
The colonel’s face returned to the screen. “To the people of Houston, it was clear - we were obviously no longer part of the United States of America. Our countrymen left us to wither and die, rejected and ignored our pleas, violated our rights both as citizens and human beings.”
“So we formed our own nation. The survivors reorganized, chose leaders, and reinstated rule of law. Our next act was to declare war on those who had enslaved our city. This is why we have attacked you. This is why most of the people watching this broadcast are about to perish, much the same as our own citizens have succumbed to a tortured demise.”
Again a video began rolling, this time showing an unfamiliar flag blowing gently in the wind. The colors were similar to the traditional Texas standard, but instead of the lone, white star, blue and gold interlinked circles adorned the emblem.
“This is the flag of your conqueror, America. This is the flag of the enemy who has defeated the most powerful nation on earth. This is the flag of the newly formed Gulf Republic.”
“We are, however, going to be more compassionate to you than you were to us. You can choose to survive. To the traitorous elected officials watching this broadcast in Washington, I offer you simple terms. We demand your unconditional surrender. In exchange, we will make available a serum that our scientists have developed – a medication that will allow over 90% of your citizens to survive the epidemic spreading across your lands. Our offer is that simple - surrender, or die. Without the serum, we estimate your causalities will exceed 270 million.”
Colonel Taylor stared hard at the camera, the man’s expression leaving no doubt he believed what he was saying. His next comment elevated the levels of shock and awe for every single person in the situation room.
“In addition, we are well aware of the reaction to our plight by the Russian Federation and Red China. Before we were cut off from the so-called ‘civilized world,’ we watched the televised United Nations debates. Some of us held out hope that the citizens sharing our planet would show mercy and demand that our own government render aid. Instead, we saw the world’s leaders insist our city be destroyed outright. Not one single country offered assistance. Not one nation stepped forward to oppose our abandonment to certain death. Where was the United Nations while we died by the millions? The subject of Houston and the suffering of her community didn’t even make the Security Council’s agenda after the quarantine was imposed. The rest of the earth’s residents obviously felt there were more important issues to deal with.”
A map of the world replaced the colonel’s face. One by one, red lines appeared in Houston, arching outwards toward numerous other nations. As each “line” landed in the target country, it began to flush crimson, as if the landmass was being covered in blood. New lines rose skyward, each of the host nations hurling its own human projectiles to other lands. In short order, the entire landmass of each continent was engulfed.
“People carrying Ebola-B have already traveled to these nations,” came the colonel’s voice-over. “To the governments of the world, we offer the same terms. Surrender… or die. There is, however, one additional requirement. All of you must agree, or all of you will perish together. We will not help some nations while others hold out. It’s all of mankind… or nothing.”
“Furthermore, if you should decide to attack us, I will make two promises. The first is that we will fight, and tens of thousands more will die on both sides. Secondly, you will never capture the cure. We are well aware of every military option avail
able to you and have safeguarded against all such contingencies. We urge the world’s leaders to save as many of your people as possible and surrender immediately. I can be contacted on the following frequency should you accept our terms. End transmission.”
The Situation Room was absolutely silent, no one seemingly able to find his voice. It was finally the president who spoke. “He can’t be serious. This has to be some sort of a prank or the actions of a madman.”
“Seemed serious enough to me,” replied the Joint Chief’s Chairman. “I’ve already requested the colonel’s service record; we should have it soon enough. But my read is that we’ll find Taylor is a very competent man.”
“He’s spot on with the estimates concerning casualties, sir,” came the CDC doctor’s voice. “In fact, our calculations indicate his figures are a little conservative.”
Something in the CDC man’s tone caused the president’s head to snap up, “You’re not thinking we should actually surrender, are you, Doctor?”
“That’s above my pay grade, Mr. President. I’m only a scientist, not the leader of the free world.”
The chief executive’s tone grew angry. “How is it that these people down in Houston can come up with a cure, and our multi-billion dollar infrastructure of experts can’t, Doctor? Please tell me that.”
“They’ve had more examples, blood, test results, and human patients than we have, sir. Our research facilities have to wait years before human trials can begin – they, obviously, did not.”
The Secretary of State spoke for the first time. “Why? Why would they do this to us? We’re their compatriots… their neighbors, classmates, family and friends. I still can’t believe they would intentionally unleash weapons of mass destruction like that.”
The general answered the question, “Betrayal, Mr. Secretary, pure and simple disloyalty. There is nothing worse than duplicity for any soldier. Colonel Taylor made that absolutely clear.”
“But to kill billions and billions of people? We didn’t attack them,” the president protested. “We didn’t bombard their homes or call in airstrikes against their people. We tried like hell to get enough food in there, and all we received in return for our efforts were attacks and riots. We cut off their communications because it was being used as a political weapon here in Washington to spread panic throughout the world. I don’t see that we had any choice in our actions. Yes, we knew we were sacrificing a few to save many, but that was a logical choice any leader would have made.”
“They, sir, obviously disagree,” remarked the general.
“Well, I’ll be damned if I’m going to surrender,” the president declared. “Doctor, I suggest you and your people get busy trying to replicate this cure. I want all of our intelligence agencies focusing on Houston. Maybe this so-called Gulf Republic hasn’t covered all of its bases. Someone write me a short speech discrediting this joker, and call the networks. I’m going to have to reassure the American people.”
And with that, the Commander in Chief stood, a clear indication that the meeting was over. Then he paused, looking at the Secretary of State. “I supposed you should head for New York. I’m sure your presence at the UN is going to be required.”
“What should I tell them our policy is going to be concerning this matter?”
Rubbing his chin, the president said, “Tell them that we are looking at this Colonel Taylor as nothing more than a bio-terrorist brandishing a weapon of mass destruction.”
The CDC doctor’s voice boomed over the speaker, “A weapon he as already launched against us, I might add.”
After the president had left the room, the general’s aide approached to whisper in his boss’s ear. “You don’t think they’ll make us eat Tex-Mex do you, sir? I get heartburn every time I visit the Lone Star State.”
The general, always appreciative of well-timed gallows humor, grunted. “I don’t know about the food, but I’m thinking we both might need to look into learning how to line dance.”
“Captain, I have an offer for you,” Dr. Herald stated.
She observed the patient closely, noting the drawn, pale skin that seemed to make his eyes appear larger than before. She had to be 100% sure he was cognizant.
Norse’s body trembled with another bout of shivering, his bottom lip quivering like a child in the cold. His eyes focused, filled with pain and fear, but clear in their understanding. He nodded.
“We have an experiential serum. It’s new and untested, especially on patients who are in the advanced stages, like yourself. You are in the final throes of the virus, and beyond the point where 99.9% survive. So, you basically have three options; you can just ride it out, suffer through and hope for the best. I can help you end your life… or… you can become a lab rat, of sorts.”
The sick soldier’s voice was weak, but clear. “I don’t like today’s menu,” he replied, the effort of speaking drawing all of his strength.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I wish I could do more. I wouldn’t take very long to make up my mind if I were you. With most of my patients, the pain gets so intense they can no longer reason or make decisions.”
“Give me the serum,” he said immediately. “I don’t have anything to lose. If it kills me, then it’s no worse than the bullet.”
Elissa grimaced, shaking her head in disagreement. “It’s not that simple, Shane. The serum could make the pain even more agonizing… could prolong your suffering. To make matters worse, we need to gather all of the data we can on this potential treatment, so that means you’ll forgo you right to euthanize if you opt for that route.”
He nodded, an attempt at a smile raising the corners of his mouth. “Such is the life of a lab rat,” he whispered. “Do it. Give me the serum. If my death can help others, then at least something positive can come of all this pain. Do it.”
“Okay, Shane,” the attractive sawbones replied. “Just to let you know, I would’ve done the same in your shoes. I’ll be back in a few minutes to administer the injection.”
Taylor was waiting for her at the cell door, joining the physician as she strolled toward the lab. “I thought he would take a chance on a cure. He’s strong – there’s no quit there.”
Dr. Herald agreed. “Out of our 16 potential patients, all but three have elected to be a test subject. What impressed me is that he had enough wherewithal to think about others. I think our sick captain is probably a compassionate man.”
“Let’s hope he pulls through. We’re going to need all of the good men and women we can get.”
Elissa stopped, glancing both directions to make sure Taylor and she were out of earshot. “I’m concerned, Colonel. If this new manufacturing technique doesn’t work, we won’t be able to deliver the cure you promised to the world. Is there a Plan-B?”
“No need to be concerned about that, Doctor,” the older man replied with a knowing smile. “There’s no chance of their accepting our terms.”
As anticipated, the United Nations was in absolute turmoil. Secretary Reese, sitting in for the regular U.S. Ambassador, sat silently, listening to the Russian representative’s rant.
“We warned you!” he shouted for the third time, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis. “My government repeatedly advised the United States to incinerate that cesspool of viral growth, and now the entire planet is at the mercy of a madman.”
“Mr. Ambassador, no reasonable leader is going to nuke any city, especially within its own borders. Your previous recommendation wasn’t realistic, and everyone sitting at this table knows that. Regardless, wouldn’t our limited time be more reasonably utilized trying to agree upon a course of action rather than rehash historical events?” Reese stated calmly.
“The People’s Republic of China will not surrender,” chimed in the representative of the world’s most populous country. “We will not submit to any foreign power, epidemic or not.”
“Nor will France,” sounded another voice, the English thick with a Gallic accent. “Our people would prefer to die rather
than hand over our sovereignty to some unknown lunatic. The virus may annihilate our ranks, but France will survive this scourge just as we have every other challenge throughout the ages.”
The British representative shook his head. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, sir. Our scientists believe that the virus will mutate several more times if it is provided six billion hosts. Ebola-B may leave 30% of our citizens alive, but what about Ebola-C, and D, and so forth. Our experts believe the odds are quite high that immunity to one variant won’t protect an individual against later strains. We believe this could be an extinction event.”
The Englishman’s words were sobering, a tense silence enveloping the chamber. India, occupying the one rotating seat on the council, spoke next, “I wonder what they would do with the world if we all surrendered?”
“That’s an excellent question,” Secretary Reese responded. “I’ve pondered that more than once myself.”
The General Secretary tilted his head, “Has anybody asked?”
Again, a hush fell over the chamber, each representative seeming to gather his thoughts.
Peering over the top of his glasses, the distinguished British envoy scanned the seated powers. “Perhaps we should find out,” he said. “I admit, like most of you, our leadership has assumed some heinous desire to grab power and achieve world domination. It’s a bit embarrassing really. Those of us who swim in diplomatic waters should know better than to assume anything.”
The statement initiated a sudden flush of conversation, many of the seated dignitaries turning to their aides seated behind them and whispering questions or comments. Other ambassadors chose to hold private, hushed exchanges with a neighboring member. The General Secretary let it go, hoping something positive would come from the free-flowing communications.
It was Secretary of State Reese who raised her voice a few minutes later. “Since Houston is within our borders, I propose we adjourn so that my government can make an honest attempt to clarify this point.”