Perimeter

by M. A. Rothman

  Hutchison’s words echoed in Juan’s mind. He’d been working practically around the clock—and it still wasn’t fast enough. He needed to reverse the effects of this virus, and he had to do it now. Or all of those people were going to die.

  Hutchison clapped his hand on Juan’s shoulder, and for a moment, the older man flashed a sympathetic expression. “Listen, Doc. If you can’t come up with a cure… the president’s plan might be for the best. If this virus were to get out, uncontrolled…

  “Think about it. Uncontrolled, without a way of really detecting the infection. Humanity could be wiped out within the next generation.”

  Juan drew a shuddering breath. “I think I know what needs to be done.”

  “Then go do it. I’ve done all I can. The rest is up to you, Dr. Gutierrez.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The conversation with Hutchison had given Juan a singular focus. He only had ten days to fix this, or it wouldn’t even matter anymore. He had to direct his efforts to what could be done in that time.

  And the truth was, coming up with a “cure” in such a short timeframe was pretty much impossible. The DNA changes were simply too vast. The best he could hope for was to save some of those people—the ones who weren’t infected—by finding a reliable method of screening them out. He imagined children, wives, entire families being rounded up simply because they’d been around one of the cancer patients and then developed some kind of harmless fever… from a flu or some other run-of-the-mill illness.

  He couldn’t save everyone. But perhaps he could save them.

  As he entered the lab the next morning, where his technicians were monitoring dozens of experiments, he felt a heavy burden of guilt. In days, likely hundreds of people would die. And it was all because of his research.

  As he usually did, he went first to Kevin, who’d become his go-to man. “Kevin. How are things going?”

  Kevin pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Things are going well.” He gestured to a clear, sealed unit not much larger than the rat it held. “The units were actually a bit small for the species of rat we have under test. I suspect they were built for mice. But it works, and I created an air circulator with just a couple parts. Oxygen and carbon-dioxide detectors are sampling the air coming out of the chamber.”

  Juan ran his finger along the tube connecting the clear compartment holding the rat to a box with a digital readout measuring the percentages of O2 and CO2 and asked, “These are sealed units, right?”

  “Yes, but if you’re looking for especially accurate exhalation percentages, this isn’t going to work. For meaningful accuracy, we’d either need to teach these rats to blow hard into pipettes or measure them under sedation.”

  Juan shook his head. “No, that’s fine. We don’t need exact numbers. Let’s go ahead and gather all the data and see if there’s any difference in the specimen groups.”

  Kevin grabbed a pad of paper. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll pull it together.”

  Just as Kevin headed off to record the readings from the dozens of stations scattered around the lab, Nate walked in. Juan wondered if the agent knew what was planned for the quarantined sites.

  “How’s it going, Juan?”

  “It’s going.” Juan nodded toward Kevin. “He’s tabulating some data for me now.”

  “Do you think you might have a breakthrough?” Nate asked, sounding hopeful.

  “No, not really something like that. We’re just trying to come up with a more surefire way to know if someone has been given this form of gene therapy.”

  “Is it really that difficult?” Nate asked. “I’m no doctor, but if these people are suffering from a virus, isn’t it just a matter of identifying the antibodies the body produces?”

  “Unfortunately, not in this case. With a normal virus, you’d be correct. An ordinary virus—like, say, a flu virus—invades cells, chews up their DNA to make copies of itself, then spreads itself everywhere. Like a bull in a china shop. The body sees these viruses as foreign invaders, and it responds by producing antibodies specific to that virus.

  “But this virus is different. When it invades a cell, it merges its genetic code with the infected cell. Then later, when that cell naturally divides, the contents replicate. The body doesn’t create an antibody, because it doesn’t see an invader—just natural cell division.”

  Nate frowned. “In that case, why does everyone who’s infected have a fever?”

  Juan gave Nate an approving nod. “That’s the exact question I’ve been asking myself.”

  “Dr. Gutierrez,” Kevin said, hurrying over. “I’ve gathered the data and have group-level averages.” He rubbed the back of his neck and held his notepad out at arm’s length. “There’s almost no difference between the exhalations of the dosed animals. However, the non-dosed animals had a lower CO2 and higher O2 level than the dosed ones.”

  Juan’s eyes narrowed. “How big of a difference?”

  “The dosed rats are putting out twice as much CO2 and about one-fourth less O2.”

  “That’s great!” Juan exclaimed. He turned to Nate. “This could give us a reliable way of telling if someone has the virus.”

  “Could, or does?” Nate asked.

  “Well, I can’t be sure until I’ve tested it on people who are known to have the virus.” Hutchison’s warning about only having ten days loomed large in his mind. “If I set up a test rig, do you think I could be taken to one of the quarantine sites?”

  Nate shrugged. “I’ll have to check with my supervisor. To be honest, I don’t even know where the sites are. When would you want to go?”

  “That depends.” Juan turned to Kevin. “Kevin, please tell me we have portable capnography machines that’ll measure exhaled O2 and CO2.”

  “You’re talking about for humans?” Kevin asked.

  Juan choked back a retort. “Of course, humans.”

  “Sure, there’s some dual-gas measuring devices in our supply storage. It’s the kind you blow hard into, like you would a spirometer, but it measures gas percentages. I’ll have to dig around, but I can probably be back here with one in… fifteen or twenty minutes.”

  Juan turned back to Nate. “I’d like to leave in about fifteen to twenty minutes.”

  Nate’s eyes widened, and he pulled out his phone. “Then I guess I’d better make some calls.”

  As Nate strode away, speaking in hushed whispers on his phone, Juan felt a small sense of accomplishment. He might be able to get some people out of quarantine, and thus save their lives.

  Closing his eyes, he wracked his brain, trying to imagine if there was anything he could do for those who were infected.

  As he focused on the desperate nature of what he was facing, his shoulders drooped. Hopelessness washed over him.

  With just about nine days left, Juan knew… there was no way he’d be able to undo what had already been done.

  ###

  Kathy sat with her dad in the mess hall at Camp X-Ray. As he spoke with some of the other “inmates,” as she thought of them, she tried to stomach another lukewarm bowl of beef stew.

  “All of you folks had cancer as well?” a scrawny middle-aged man with a strong Spanish accent asked through a mouthful of cornbread.

  Everyone at the table nodded, and one man said, “Yes, but thank God, it’s gone now.”

  Dad asked, “Is that true with everyone? You’re all cured?”

  Another round of nods.

  “It’s an absolute miracle,” one woman exclaimed from the far end of the table.

  A woman sitting at a table behind Kathy announced, “It did more than just that. For the first time in my life, my psoriasis is totally gone, and it’s been over six months.”

  An older man said, “Truly, we’re all blessed to still be alive. I heard about someone who went through the trial we did, but they died. Evidently, their MS interfered with the treatment.”

  “I heard the same
thing,” someone else said.

  Feeling a surge of emotion, Kathy pressed her cheek against her father’s shoulder and whispered, “We are blessed, you know. I’m really happy you’re still with Mom and me.”

  A man with a thick brown beard asked, “Hey, has anyone else noticed that you’re not using as much deodorant? I swear to God, either my sniffer is broken or I just don’t stink like I used to.”

  “No, I noticed the same thing…”

  “Me too! Weird, ain’t it?”

  Kathy caught her dad sniffing at his armpits. She chuckled. “I’d have told you if you stunk.”

  Another man chimed in with a nasally voice. “Forget about deodorant. The treatment resurrected my sex life. I had herpes, but I’ll be damned if the docs didn’t clear me. No cancer. No herpes. And I’m single and looking to mingle.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “But you heard the guards,” said the bearded man. “There’s not to be any ‘mingling’ while we’re in here. That’s why they’re watching the barracks, so nobody gets any ideas.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” The man grinned lasciviously. “Some might say this is a target-rich environment. And besides, who needs the barracks when the porta-potties can give you privacy?”

  “That’s disgusting,” admonished the older woman.

  Dad turned to Kathy and whispered, “I think it would be best if you get me, or a guard, to accompany you any time you go to the bathroom. You understand?”

  Kathy nodded. The truth was, she didn’t know anything about these people. Within this group of former cancer patients, there could be criminals. Criminals who were now, effectively, in a jail.

  And she was as much of a prisoner as everyone else.

  ###

  At the outer border of the Air Force installation known as Camp X-Ray, Nate leaned out the driver’s-side window and handed his and Juan’s IDs to the sergeant on duty. “Agent Carrington and Dr. Gutierrez. You guys should be expecting us.” He hitched his thumb to the two SUVs behind them. “Those guys are just here as part of the doctor’s security detail. They’ll wait outside.”

  The wind blew a cloud of brown dirt across the unpaved path ahead as the airman studied the ID. The sergeant held both IDs at arm’s length, glancing back and forth from the badges to the two men. “Please lower your rear windows and pop the trunk.”

  Nate sighed as he lowered the tinted windows of the GMC Yukon that he’d checked out from the FBI’s Vegas office. Scanning the dash, he hunted for and finally found the button that popped open the hatchback.

  One airman peered into the back seats while another searched the trunk.

  Juan stuck his head out the window on the passenger side. “Can you guys be careful? Some of that is electronic medical equipment. It’s fragile.”

  After another minute, the airmen finished their check, and the sergeant returned Nate’s and Juan’s IDs. He pointed straight ahead. “Go up the trail, past the rise, and veer left. You can’t miss it. I’ll call ahead and let them know you’re on the way.”

  “Thanks, Sergeant,” Nate said as he rolled up the windows, put the car into gear, and began moving along the rocky trail.

  “This is going to suck,” Juan murmured.

  In moments, Nate and Juan were once more on their way toward the camp itself. And Nate couldn't help but notice the doctor seemed especially nervous as they approached the looming barbed-wire fence surrounding the quarantined camp. “Your goal is to try and winnow out the false positives, right?”

  “It is.”

  “Then just focus on that,” Nate advised. “We’ll be in and out. Don’t forget that these patients don’t really know why they’re quarantined, and it’s best it stays that way. The Air Force guys have been told to segregate the population into male and female sections, but that’s all they know. The patients here aren’t allowed to bunk together, if you know what I mean. Even married couples.”

  Nate added with as pleasant a tone as he could muster, “Remember, by your being involved, you’re saving lives. Besides, these folks aren’t going anywhere. Regardless of how difficult it might be, you’ll probably come up with some cure given enough time.”

  Nate felt the doctor’s gaze turn to him as he pulled the large SUV to the entrance of the quarantine camp.

  The heavy metal gate swung open as one of the airmen waved them in.

  Skirting past a large unmarked bus, Nate drove toward another gated entrance which had also opened. Two fatigue-wearing airmen waved them toward a building that had a large red cross painted on it.

  Another soldier was waiting for them there.

  “Agent Carrington, Dr. Gutierrez. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the clinic facilities where your testing will take place.”

  Juan pointed at the back of the SUV. “Hold on a second. I’ve got some equipment I need to bring in.” He turned, peered at Nate through the still-open passenger door and asked, “You coming?”

  Nate switched off the ignition, pocketed the keys, and hopped out of the vehicle. “Sure. Let me help you with that box.”

  ###

  Nate sat on a hard-backed folding chair in a windowless cinderblock room with harsh fluorescent lighting. It reminded him of an interrogation room and it smelled strongly of cleaning products. The only furniture was a single table and a few chairs.

  The doctor had set up his equipment on the table and was testing its many connections. The device was roughly the size of a desktop computer. It consisted primarily of a box with various knobs, an LED readout, and a long flexible tube with a pipette on the end. Nate sensed that whatever had been bothering Juan earlier had at least been put into the back of his mind.

  “Mind if I try this out on you?” Juan asked. “Just to make sure things are working?”

  Moving his chair closer to the table, Nate shrugged. “Sure. What do I need to do?”

  Wearing white latex gloves, Juan picked up the long tube and offered the end with the pipette to him. “Just hold that for a second.”

  As Nate held the small object that reminded him of a plastic cigarette holder, Juan adjusted a few more of the knobs under the LED readout and said, “This is a dual-gas capnography unit. It’ll measure the levels of oxygen and carbon dioxide you breathe out. Just take a deep breath, put the end of the pipette into your mouth, seal your lips around the end, and blow hard until you’re completely out of breath. I’ll ask you to do that three times. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Juan pressed a button, and the box beeped. “Okay, deep breath and blow.”

  Nate did as he was told, emptying his lungs. After three rounds in quick succession, he felt a little lightheaded.

  Juan replaced the used pipette while he read the data off the LED readout. “Average O2 exhalation was 15.87% with CO2 exhalation at 4.15%. Good. About what I’d expect.”

  “So the machine is working?” Nate asked.

  “It is.” Juan smiled. “And you’ll be glad to know you don’t have the virus.”

  The door to the room opened, and the same airman who had greeted them outside the building walked in with a clipboard. “Dr. Gutierrez, we’ve got everyone here listed by number. For each, you’ll find their recorded temperatures and whether or not they were a primary recipient of the treatment. Are you ready for them?”

  “Yes, thank you. Bring them in one at a time. I’ll want to do a basic physical, see how they’re doing, and then I’ll screen them further.”

  “Of course, sir. I’ll be back with the first patient and a translator.”

  “Translator?” Juan asked.

  “Yes, sir. A good portion of these folks are from South America.”

  “Sergeant, I can speak Spanish.”

  The sergeant nodded. “Of course, sir. And what about Portuguese?”

  Juan paused. “Ah. Yes, you’d better send the translator.”

  While they waited for the first patient to arrive, Juan pulled on the whit
e lab coat he’d brought. He smiled at Nate. “I’ve rarely worked with human patients, so I might as well look the part.”

  Soon enough a short middle-aged woman walked in and shook hands with Juan. He then communicated through the translator, “Please have a seat. So, how are you feeling?”

  Nate watched as Juan listened to her heart, took the woman’s blood pressure, and asked general questions about her well-being.

  After some back and forth with the translator, Juan had the Portuguese-speaking woman blow into the pipette.

  Nate looked over the doctor’s shoulder at the results. This woman’s oxygen was lower than his had been, and her CO2 was nearly double what he’d blown. He knew what that meant.

  Juan scribbled something down and thanked the woman, and she left.

  “Positive?” Nate asked.

  Juan’s expression was somber. “I’m afraid so. She’s been given the viral treatment.”

  ###

  As Nate watched Juan deal with patient after patient, he developed a better sense of who the doctor was. The man seemed to genuinely care about each and every person he examined. He listened patiently to their complaints and ultimately assured them that everything would be fine.

  Of course, in most cases, it wouldn’t be fine. Out of the first forty patients, Juan eliminated only two of them. In both cases, he told Nate after they had left, he probably hadn’t even needed his device to clear them. Both patients had had a fever when they were brought in, but had had normal temperature readings ever since.

  When the next patient walked in, the doctor stiffened, his eyes going wide. The patient halted and stared with a surprised expression. An obvious look of recognition flashed between the two.

  “Juan!” the woman said, her voice trembling. “How did you know I was here?”

  Nate recognized the woman as well. She was in her mid-twenties and pretty. Her shock of red hair and pale skin made Nate think of a matchstick. It was the O’Reilly kid, the same girl he’d collected at Georgetown.

  But how the hell did she know the doctor?

  “I—I didn’t,” Juan stammered. He was clearly as shocked to see her as she was to see him. “Oh my God. Kathy… how did you end up here?”