by Bobby Akart
“Becker, maybe it’s you who intimidates him.”
By the time Harper turned toward Becker to gauge her reaction, she was gone. Harper stopped in the middle of the hallway and swung around. Becker was standing with her hands on her hips ten feet away.
“Shut up,” she said teasingly. “He’s not even human. I’ve always wondered what the military is doing with all that new technology. He’s like the Terminator. You know, I’ll be baaack.”
“Come on, Boom-Boom. I don’t have time for your silliness.”
“Shhh, you can’t call me that in the office. People might get the wrong idea.”
Harper continued toward Dr. Reitherman’s office suite while Becker scampered to catch up. When they were next to one another again, Harper whispered, “Be nice to Kwon or I’ll tell them all about your stripper-pole days in college.”
“It wasn’t like that. It was, um. Hey, I paid my way through college with unconventional methods. Nothing illegal or compromising.”
“Salacious?”
“Not illegal,” she shot back.
Harper gave Becker a playful shove as they entered the double doors of Dr. Reitherman’s office suite. They could hear the rest of the group talking among themselves.
“Sorry we’re late,” said Harper. “We were on the other side of the building, looking at H17N12.”
Dr. Reitherman’s secretary exited the conference room and closed the door behind her. He turned to Harper.
“So we have a name?” he said inquisitively.
“We do, and a source,” replied Harper.
“Not Doggo?” asked Kwon.
Harper purposefully hesitated. She wanted to force Becker to interact with Kwon. She picked up on Harper’s pause and answered his question.
“According to the preliminary necropsy, Doggo’s stomach contents revealed partially digested remains of a baby pangolin. Several, in fact.”
Kwon scowled. “I didn’t know they were mammals. Their scales suggest the reptilian family.”
“The diseased pangolins carried a novel strain of influenza resulting in the H17 designation,” added Becker.
Kwon tilted his head. He impressed Harper with his breadth of knowledge of infectious diseases. “Isn’t H17 reserved for bat transmissions?”
Becker responded, “Yes, and there are traces of a bat’s viral genome based upon microbiologists’ findings. Because the intermediary hosts aren’t swine or avian, they chose H17.”
“Well, that’s good enough for our purposes,” interjected Dr. Reitherman. “Everyone take a seat so Woolie and Kwon can reveal what they’ve confirmed from the pharmacological perspective. Woolie?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Unfortunately, it took many more patients and deaths to reach this conclusion.”
Kwon interjected, “And confirmation from Dr. Zeng’s case in Urumqi. The earliest case, the Australian, Adam Mooy, was studied by Dr. Zeng and a pathologist at the university hospital. They recognized that this virus signaled the cytokine molecules to mobilize in a war against H17N12.” He looked to Dr. Boychuck to continue.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Through our own pathology, we have learned the body overreacted in its fight against the virus. As a result, widespread inflammation occurred. The natural result of these overactive white blood cells was a flooding of soldiers, who began to fight among themselves, taking the patient’s vital organs down with them.”
“Similar to avian flu,” added Becker. “With a little HIV/AIDS thrown in the mix.”
“A deadly cocktail,” said Dr. Reitherman.
“As H17N12 sweeps through the body,” began Kwon, “the cytokine storm is triggered, resulting in severe infections of the central nervous system and vital organs. It appears the lungs are the first to go.”
“How do we slow the process?” asked Harper.
Dr. Boychuck responded, “It is a most unusual set of circumstances determined by studying all the confirmed positive cases in Las Vegas. The vast majority of elderly survivors were taking a medication designed to dilate the patient’s blood vessels, which increased the amount of blood flow to the heart.”
“ACE inhibitors,” said Harper. She glanced at Becker. “Do you remember Wallace? At the Gold Palace? He had a cough and claimed it was caused by his lisinopril.”
“Yes, I remember. That is a common side effect.”
Dr. Boychuck interrupted. “There is a Wallace on my patient list from Las Vegas. Donald, I think.”
“That’s him,” said Becker. “He was very heavy. Did he get sick?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. However, he is recovering. His weakened heart and excessive weight complicated his recovery, but he is still alive.”
“Dr. Zeng was onto this,” said Kwon. He glanced at Harper. “The angiotensin-converting enzyme 2 attaches to the outer membranes of vital organs, especially in patients whose immunities are compromised for other reasons.”
She nodded in agreement. “This accounts for the deaths of patients with weakened immune systems.”
“Unless they were taking an ACE inhibitor like lisinopril,” offered Becker.
“Exactly,” said Harper. “The healthy individuals, like the Olympic athlete in Austria, didn’t take a drug like that, but it’s most likely his parents did.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. All has been confirmed. We cannot find a fatality in which a patient routinely took an ACE inhibitor medication.”
Harper summed it up. “The virus uses the ACE2 receptors to enter the lungs in a mechanism similar to SARS. Using an ACE2 receptor blockade along the lines of lisinopril disables the viral entry into the heart and lungs while rendering an overall decrease in inflammation.”
The room grew silent and Dr. Reitherman leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “In my career, I cannot think of a time when a commonly used medication was unknowingly instrumental in warding off a virus. I think we can have our people begin their work with health care specialists to formulate the basis of a treatment protocol.”
Everyone nodded their agreement.
Chapter Forty-One
CDC Headquarters
Atlanta, Georgia
Over the next forty-eight hours, Dr. Harper and her team worked virtually nonstop to tie up any loose ends and to reconfirm their working hypothesis. By the time Friday afternoon was upon them, every single new case, both recovering patients and deceased ones, fit perfectly within their models.
Around the world, other leading scientists and epidemiologists took the data generated by the CDC’s efforts and applied it to their own H17N12 cases. In a first, the previously obscure pangolin made world headlines as the media refused to use the official designation, Tibetan flu, in favor of pangolin disease. In addition, the vast majority of news reports failed to mention that the offending pangolin had walked the Earth fifteen thousand years ago.
In wet markets across China, the pangolins, which were considered a delicacy in China and in high demand throughout Asia for their medicinal qualities, were being destroyed.
Harper was dismayed at the amount of misinformation being spread via all forms of media. Dr. Reitherman, like his superiors, was anxious to make his formal statement to the press to dispel the inaccuracies and fearmongering.
His statement to a full house in the CDC’s media center took about fifteen minutes. The questions he was bombarded with lasted the rest of the hour until finally he was pulled away from the podium. He was exhausted by the time he returned to his office suite. His mood lifted when he found Harper in the conference room together with Becker, Dr. Boychuck, and Kwon.
“Congrats, Dr. Reitherman!”
“Yeah, boss. You crushed it!”
“Well done, Herr Doktor!”
Kwon simply extended his hand to shake. That was the extent of his enthusiasm for just about anything.
Dr. Reitherman was appreciative. The head of the CSELS removed his jacket and draped it over a chair. “Thank you, all. I wish I could have mentioned each of you by name, but amazingly, nobod
y has leaked Harper and Kwon’s excursions into China. Personally, I believe the administration doesn’t want to admit your success.” He patted them on the back as he walked by.
“Unsung heroes was the term you used,” said Becker. “I’ll take it.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. None of us need a new line item on our résumés. It is the results that count.”
“Absolutely, sir,” added Kwon. “For me it was an honor to work with each of you. I have to say, this rivals any mission I undertook on behalf of DARPA.”
Harper raised her hands in the air. “Hold on, everybody. This conversation sounds like it might be leading toward goodbyes. I have an invitation for you all.”
The ever-jubilant Becker began a happy dance. “Party at Harper’s house! Woo-hoo!”
“Wait, not quite. I’ve got a better offer than that.”
“We’re all ears,” said Becker.
“Earlier today, I had a chance to speak with Ma and Mimi. They expressed how proud they are of us and are naturally appreciative of our efforts. They’ve invited everyone out to Randolph House for a weekend of rest, relaxation, and down-home Southern cookin’.”
Becker was the first to accept her invite. “I’m in! Hubba-Hubba is in Chicago on business for a few days. One of his clients is the Chicago Zoological Society and the Brookfield Zoo. My schedule is wide open.”
Kwon nodded. “I’ve read about a Dr. Boone and her work with primates.”
“Yeah, my husband likes swinging with the monkeys, too.”
They shared a laugh, and Harper turned to Kwon. “Are you in?”
“I don’t see why not. I honestly can’t say I’ve had any of the Southern dishes I’ve heard about.”
“Great,” said Harper, turning to Dr. Reitherman and Dr. Boychuck. “Gentlemen?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you for this kind invitation. Berger?”
“Well, my wife is also traveling, so I’m a bachelor feeding on takeout for a few days. If you’re sure they wouldn’t mind.”
Harper laughed and waved off his statement. “Y’all have to understand. They are used to putting on the biggest soirees in town. The five of us plus Joe, hopefully, will be a walk in the park for those two.”
“Will Joe be joining us?” asked Dr. Reitherman.
“I hope so,” Harper replied. “He has some kind of meeting scheduled outside the city, but he’s sure he can get there by midmorning tomorrow.”
“When do we leave? And who’s driving?” asked Becker.
“Just a moment,” said Dr. Reitherman as he excused himself and left to speak with his assistant. Less than a minute later, he returned.
“Everything okay?” asked Harper.
“Oh, sure. You see, I promised Kwon’s employers I’d give him a ride back to Virginia. I just made arrangements to do that first thing this evening.”
“But, sir, he wants to go with us,” protested Harper.
Dr. Reitherman raised both hands to his waist in an effort to assuage Harper’s concern. “I didn’t say how long it would take. We’ll all meet at DeKalb-Peachtree by seven. I’ll have the CDC Learjet ferry us over to the county airport where your home is. If I recall, we’ve picked you up there before, am I right?”
“Yes, sir. It’s a fairly long, lighted runway at four-to-five thousand feet.”
“I thought so. Anyway, can everyone make that work?”
“Heck yeah!” shouted Becker. “Um, now?”
“Now, Elizabeth. Scoot!”
“You don’t have to tell me twice!” she exclaimed as she hurried out of the office without so much as a see you later.
Dr. Reitherman turned to Dr. Boychuck. “Woolie, I’ll run you by your hotel and get you checked out. My place is on the way to the airport, so we can just knock it out together.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. This is very nice of you, Harper. Thank you for including me in all of this.”
“We couldn’t have done it without you,” she said with a sincere smile. “Kwon, let’s saddle up. It’s time for another adventure.”
Kwon smiled. “I can only imagine.”
“It’ll be safer than the last one, I promise.”
None of them hesitated to make themselves scarce.
Part IV
Indefinite Doubt
It’s always too late no matter what we do.
~ Dr. Harper Randolph, on hunting viruses
Chapter Forty-Two
Randolph House
Heard’s Fort, Georgia
The group chatted continuously during the short flight across North Georgia to the historic community of Heard’s Fort. Established in 1774 by Virginia colonist Stephen Heard, the settlement had served as the temporary capital of the new state of Georgia after it ratified the Articles of Confederation in 1778.
When most Americans thought of Georgia and its history, visions of a mid-nineteenth-century, war-torn South as portrayed in Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind came to mind. Certainly, Georgia was a major theater of the Civil War, with major battles fought in nearby Atlanta. However, many are unaware of the strategic importance this part of Georgia played in the American Revolutionary War.
The Battle of Kettle Creek was fought about ten miles from Heard’s Fort. The British had begun their southern strategy by sending expeditions from New York to capture the strategic port located in Savannah. Thereafter, the British forces moved up the Savannah River, captured Augusta just to the southeast of Heard’s Fort, and established a garrison there.
The Southerners would have none of that. The Georgia Patriot Militia led by Colonel John Dooly teamed with South Carolina militia leader Colonel Andrew Pickens to conduct guerilla tactics against the British.
In early February of 1779, British forces moved deeper into the state in an effort to recruit loyalists and establish outposts, one of which was near Kettle Creek. British Lieutenant Colonel John Boyd led a company, unaware that he was being stalked by the Georgia Patriot militia.
Both Colonel Dooly and Colonel Pickens flanked the British forces. Despite being greatly outnumbered, they had the strategic advantage of knowing the Kettle Creek area. They maintained the high ground and were able to pin down the British forces. During the battle, the British commander perished and the Loyalist line was broken, with all of its men being killed, captured, or chased back toward Augusta.
This battle was an important turning point in the Revolutionary War. It proved the British were unable to engage the loyal patriots and were ineffective in their attempts to take and hold the interior of America.
Just over a decade later, in 1795, a home was built in Heard’s Fort that, after several expansions, became known as Randolph House. Harper had been born in this historic home and, from her early childhood, was raised there by her grandmother and great-grandmother. It had always been her safe place. A home that provided her refuge from the outside world. One that, like the two women who raised her, had always wrapped its loving arms around her when she needed a hug. On the occasion of this trip, she was there to celebrate with her friends, both old and new. Her good spirits reflected in her talkative mood.
One of the locals had an SUV that doubled as a taxi service. The town didn’t have a need for a full-time taxi. It was barely three miles from one end to the other. As they drove to Randolph House, Harper directed everyone’s attention to the many points of historical interest along the way.
This area boasted more antebellum homes per capita than any other part of Georgia. Heard’s Fort had managed to avoid the wrath of Union General William Tecumseh Sherman during his famed March to the Sea. While his task was to disperse the few remaining companies of the Confederate Army, he was remembered by many in the South as a cruel military leader who burnt homes and crops of the Georgians, forcing them into poverty and starvation.
He’d given his men free rein to take or destroy food, horses and livestock. The federal troops, Bummers as they were called, routinely violated orders along the march to Savannah. History has shown their scorched
-earth policy was intentional to make the Southerners feel the cost of the war, or to make Georgia howl, as Sherman once wrote.
Heard’s Fort was just north of Sherman’s route and was spared the destruction and suffering of others. As a result, several homes, such as Randolph House, still stood today.
It was just after dinnertime when the group poured out of the SUV near the dining room entrance of the stately home. After everyone grabbed their bags, Becker was the first to make her way toward the dining room entrance.
“Becker, wait,” said Harper. “Ma and Mimi would skin me alive if I took you guys through one of the side entrances. I’m sure they’re waiting to greet us at the front.”
Harper led her guests around to the front of the house. Dr. Reitherman was the first to comment.
“What year is it again?”
Harper laughed. “For this weekend, you can pretend you’re back in 1795. Consider this. Randolph House was built when George Washington was president. Just let that soak in for a moment.”
“It’s amazeballs,” quipped Becker. “Hey! We have a welcoming committee.”
Everyone picked up the pace as they strode up the front steps. The hand-carved wood door slowly opened. Ma and Mimi emerged dressed in their everyday, yet Sunday-best for most, cotton dresses and heels.
“Ma! Mimi!” shouted Harper, echoing the exuberance she’d shown as a child. She burst ahead of the others and lovingly embraced the genteel women.
Soon, the group was exchanging pleasantries in the shadows of the forty-foot Greek Revival columns. Both the American flag and the Betsy Ross flag, with its five-pointed stars arranged in a circle representing the thirteen colonies, were hung proudly from the second-floor porch.
“Come in, everyone. We have a few treats for our weary travelers.”
Dr. Reitherman and Dr. Boychuck offered their arms to escort the elderly women through the home’s grand foyer. Once the door was closed, the aromas from the kitchen filled their nostrils, but the history of the home permeated their senses.