Michael Harvey - We All Fall Down

“No one hears much about the war on bioweapons,” Brazile said. “Too scary.”

“How accurate is it?”

“Ninety-nine percent. At least in the lab.”

“How about in real life?”

We rolled up to the Blue Line L stop at Clinton.

“This will be the first time it’s ever been used in the field,” Brazile said.

“Great. But my point is still a valid one. If the Ceeker tells you this stuff is hot, then what? People still die.”

Molly Carrolton slipped the van into park and turned. “That’s where the cases in the back come in.”

I looked behind me. “What’s in there?”

Brazile popped open her door. “Ever heard of carbon nanotubes, Mr. Kelly?”

“No.”

“All right, then. You have a lot to learn. Let’s get suited up.”

The upper level of the Clinton L station looked entirely normal, save for the fact it was entirely empty. We walked down the stairs and onto the platform, crowded with gear and divided by a series of opaque plastic curtains. Brazile disappeared through the first set without a word. I moved to follow, but Carrolton held up a hand.

“Got to put our suits on first.” Carrolton popped the seal on an aluminum case and pulled out what looked like a space suit. “This is an NBC suit.”

“Nuclear, biological, and chemical?”

“Very good. It’s state of the art and will protect you against any airborne pathogens up to. 011 microns in size.”

“Means nothing to me.”

“Just put it on. It has its own respirator, and a comm system so we can talk to each other.”

Carrolton began to climb into her suit. I did the same.

“How far are we from where the pathogen was detected?” I said.

“Half a mile.”

I stopped putting on my suit. “Call me crazy, but shouldn’t we have put these on before we got down here?”

Carrolton pulled out a helmet with a tinted visor and handed it to me.

“The platform and stairwell have already been swept for pathogens. Once we determined them to be clean, we set up what amounts to a negative pressure room along the tracks starting here and extending in both directions.”

“Ever done that before in a subway?”

“We’ve never done any of this before. The restricted area starts just beyond the last set of partitions. The air is scrubbed by a HEPA filtration system, and the environment is constantly monitored for leaks.”

Carrolton slipped on her helmet and then showed me how to put mine on. I found a pocket along the thigh and zipped my gun into it.

“There are two buttons on your wrist,” Carrolton said. Her voice was muffled through the mask. “Push down on the first, and you can talk to me.”

“How’s this?” I said.

Carrolton gave me a thumbs-up. “Perfect. Your audio is set up to talk to me and Ellen only. It’s good up to about a mile, give or take. If I’m standing right beside you, it’s usually easier to just talk through the mask. If you need to speak to the other scientists, let me know, and I’ll put you on their net. Now, hit the other button.”

I pushed down on the second button. Images of scientists in suits collecting samples appeared on the upper quarter of my visor.

“What you’re seeing is a video feed from one of the working areas along the tracks. We can hook you into data feeds as well, but that’s going to be up to Dr. Brazile.”

I pushed the button again, and the video link disappeared.

“Where is Dr. Brazile?” I said.

“Follow me.”

We stepped through three sets of plastic partitions and came to a curved glass divider, set into a metal frame and sealing off the rest of the platform and tunnel. A double-door system allowed access to the area. Inside the first door were two large machines, and a series of hoses connected to two gray bladders. The machines groaned like an old man who’d spent his life smoking five packs a day. The bladders wheezed like they were his charred lungs.

“Airflow system,” Carrolton said.

Maybe that was supposed to make me feel better. It didn’t.

“Ready?” She looked back, but all I saw was my visor reflected in hers.

“Open her up.”

She cracked the second door, and we stepped through. They had set up a run of temporary stairs at the edge of the platform leading down to track level.

“Third rail is dead,” Carrolton said. “But watch your step.”

We walked down the middle of the track bed, our boots kicking up small puffs of black soot. Carrolton paused at the mouth of the tunnel. “Five minutes, that way.”

She handed me a flashlight, turned on one of her own, and ran it into the darkness. The light singed a couple balls of fur that took off for points unknown.

“Rats are still alive,” Carrolton said.

“Albert Camus would say we have nothing to worry about.”

Carrolton’s head turned. “Is he a bio expert?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

She waggled her flashlight up and down. “Just playing to type, Mr. Kelly.”

“Funny.” I ran my own light across the scarred walls of the subway. “Seems like an awfully big area to try and seal off.”

Carrolton began to walk. “Not really. If we got the external seals right and our readings are accurate, containment should be pretty good. Of course, that’s not the real problem with a subway deployment of pathogens.”

“No?”

Carrolton shook her head. “The real problem is the trains themselves.”

“How so?”

“Think about it. A weaponized pathogen is released in the tunnel. A train barrels down the track and into the station. The train’s momentum is going to carry some of the pathogen with it. Then the train opens its doors, allowing passengers out… ”

“And some of the pathogen in.”

“Exactly. The train heads to its next stop. And the stop after that. And so on. Each time the train opens its doors, it creates a natural vacuum, and releases a little bit of the pathogen.”

“So the train becomes a vehicle for distribution.”

“That’s the beauty of a subway release. Homeland Security has done extensive airflow testing in tunnels like these. Developed a pretty sophisticated model for what a dispersal would look like.”

“Great. How many trains went through here this morning?”

“Best we can tell, maybe three before they shut things down. Two were headed toward street level and Oak Park. The other went down into the Loop… ”

“And O’Hare?”

“Yes. So even if we found and contained a live pathogen this morning, what’s already left the barn… ” Carrolton shrugged. “There’d be no telling. Dr. Brazile?”

Carrolton had hooked into another audio channel. She nodded and listened.

“I have him with me. Yeah, all right.” Carrolton pointed with a gloved finger. “That was Ellen. She’s just ahead.”

We moved forward, hugging a long curve on an uphill grade of track. In the distance, I could see large white lights floating in black space.

“What’s that?” I said.

“Ground zero. Come on.”

Twin ribbons of steel spun off into the darkness. On either side, two scientists crouched, a readout from some device reflected in blinking blue on their visors. Farther on, single figures scraped soil samples from the rail bed with thin, long-handled shovels. No one looked up as we passed. No one spoke. Then again, I wasn’t on anyone’s net unless they wanted me there, so how the hell would I know anyway? We eased around a soft corner and came up on four figures, clustered together in a semicircle. Molly Carrolton touched my sleeve, then dissolved into the darkness. One of the suits half turned and gestured me forward. Pale gray eyes floated behind the clear faceplate. Ellen Brazile’s voice cracked in my ear.