Victor Methos - Pestilence

“We’ve monitored it after weakening, and it hasn’t been able to. I think the chances are slim to none.” He looked to Sam for confirmation. “What do you think?”

“I think Duncan’s right. We don’t fully understand what we’re dealing with. Until more extensive studies can be performed, I wouldn’t give anyone the vaccine.”

He thought a moment and then said, “Dr. Bower, do you know why we dream?”

“No.”

“An honest answer. I like that. There are over eleven hundred published theories as to why we dream, and that’s all they are. Theories. Science cannot even answer the simple question of why we dream, something Cro-Magnon man quite possibly asked himself, and we’ve been unable to answer since. So if, with all our knowledge, we cannot even say why we dream, how are we supposed to know for certain what an organism one billionth our size will do? We just have to take our chances.”

Sam nodded toward the microscope. “Viruses aren’t like other organisms, Clyde. They’re as old as life itself and have lived through every cataclysm that has wiped out most other species. They adapt, they hide when threatened, and some people believe they can even feel pain. And this one we have is the deadliest I’ve ever seen. How can you even think about injecting it into people? Weakened or not?”

“Because that’s all I have.” He checked his watch. “The first batch of volunteers should be here shortly to accept the vaccine. I could really use a good pair of extra hands to administer it.”

“I’ll help.” She paused. “There is one other thing. My sister was here, and I’ve lost contact with her.”

His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. If she’s in one of our camps, she’ll have to stay there for the time being. There’re plenty of guards and food, and she won’t be mistreated. But I can’t get her out right now.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“I suppose if you want to put it that way, then I won’t.”

“Why is this even necessary? Just have quarantine zones for the infected. You don’t need to put everybody in prison.”

“That’s the order from on high, so that’s what I’m going to do. Sorry, Sam. You know I want to help you. But she has to stay where she is.”

“Can you at least tell me where she is so I can check on her and see if she needs anything?”

He thought a moment. “Okay, I’ll find out. Just give me her name and birthday.”

In the middle of the night, Samantha stretched and decided she needed some caffeine if she was going to stay up, giving doses of the vaccine. Since the vaccine hadn’t gone through the proper clinical studies, she was uncomfortable injecting it into human subjects. But she’d thought about it on the drive out of the medical center to downtown and couldn’t think of another option. If the vaccine worked, it would prevent an enormous amount of suffering. But if it didn’t, if Duncan was right and the virus was strong enough to replicate in a weakened state, everyone vaccinated would be infected.

She sat in the passenger seat this time, and Duncan was in the backseat. She glanced over at him, and his head was leaned against the seat. He was sleeping, even though the jeep bounced around as if they were on an unpaved African road rather than a highway in Los Angeles.

Duncan was a decent man, and she knew he cared for her deeply. They had some points of contention, particularly religion. She saw it as an unnecessary extravagance. Why put in all that time and effort worshiping ghosts that likely didn’t exist? Atheism was as illogical to her because it was a belief system built around a negative of something that was non-verifiable. She had gone to a meeting at a local atheist organization, but she’d found it just as formulaic as the religious services she’d been to.

Duncan, with both a medical degree and a PhD in microbiology, was quite likely the most brilliant man she had ever known. She was puzzled that this brilliant man could believe in things without evidence and apply the scientific method all day at work, then abandon it when it came to his own fundamental beliefs.

Her father had been the same. He’d been a devout Catholic his entire life and read History of the Saints and the New Testament to her as bedtime stories when she was three years old. She particularly enjoyed History of the Saints , the stories of men and women of conviction who were ready to die in the most gruesome ways for their faith. She could think of few things-in fact nothing-that inspired as much passion as faith. The whole thing was an enigma to her. Religious thinking seemed to be declining in the Western world, with only five percent of Europeans attending church and the number of regular attendees declining in the United States. Societies had been religious for so long-for the entire existence of mankind, in fact-that she couldn’t decide how the complete abandonment of religion would impact society. She could think of only two possibilities: enlightenment or anarchy.

“It’s right up here, Dr. Bower,” the driver said.

The jeep came to a stop, and she stepped out as the rough halt roused Duncan. A metal trailer, much like the one Dr. Olsen had occupied with his equipment and surgical room, was set up for them. As they stepped inside, the driver got out boxes of pre-wrapped syringes filled with the vaccine. He placed them down near some chairs and glanced at both of them. “Good luck.”

When they were alone, Duncan sat down. He seemed tired and uncertain of what they should be doing.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” he said.

“I know.”

“So if it doesn’t, we’re injecting these people with replicating poxvirus.”

“I know,” she said softly.

He exhaled. “What a mess. I can’t believe it’s come to this. We have to potentially kill several hundred people to see if we can save several billion.” He leaned back in the chair. “I read an account once from a historian that was alive during the Plague of Justinian in Constantinople. He said the levies holding back flooding waters broke because the people that maintained them had grown sick. And when they broke, the city was flooded. Sitting by his window, he watched the bodies float down his street. He said the city was choked with corpses to the point that people felt like they couldn’t breathe…”

“And it faded away, Duncan. At some point, this will fade away, too.”

“In the meantime, before the plague faded away, it changed the course of history and killed five thousand people a day. And this pathogen is more contagious. I’m no big-government nut, by any means, but I’m not sure I’m against all this.” He waved his hand around the trailer. “We’re not talking a few thousand or even a hundred thousand deaths, Sam. We’re talking about the end of civilization.”

“And so because of that risk, we throw out our values, our beliefs? We toss them to try and have a little more safety? It’s not worth it. I’d rather die out than live in Stalinist Russia. That type of life isn’t life at all.”

He rubbed his temples. “Maybe any life is better than no life.”

Before she could respond, a middle-aged blond woman in a purple shirt appeared at the door.

“I was brought here for the vaccine,” she said. “I was told to get it here.”

Sam glanced at Duncan, then told the woman, “Come in and roll up your sleeve, please.”

Ian waited around the corner after ramming the Audi into the car full of boys. No police or ambulances arrived since no one’s cell phone worked. He took out his own, connected to a private server, and connected directly with the hospital. After giving them the address, he walked away with a limp because his knee had butted into the dash.