Brian O'Grady - Hybrid

“From the point of view of the Islamists, it is quite reasonable; you see they believe that they, along with the rest of the world, will survive this attack. Their computer models are quite sophisticated and have convinced them that the outbreak can be confined to the United States.” Avanti’s smile had returned.

“That’s preposterous! Even the mutation that you’ve already released poses a worldwide threat. There is no possible way a second attack could be contained.” Martin began to sweat. “How could you let them. .?” He cut himself off as realization exploded in his mind. “You let them believe that.”

“No, I didn’t let them; I had to lead them to that conclusion, and it wasn‘t easy. They are not madmen, much as you Americans would like to believe. They are quite reasoned and some are very well educated. They have no desire to destroy the world; they simply want to remake it in their own image.” Avanti leaned back into the cushions of the chair, his face once again shrouded in shadow. “Dying is remarkably liberating; it allows one to think all the unthinkable thoughts.” He said his voice barely a whisper. “They may not wish to destroy the world, but I do, and they have provided me with a convenient vehicle to do just that.”

“I don’t understand. Most of your life has been dedicated to the eradication of disease and suffering, and now you suddenly decide to create it on a global scale!”

“Futility, utter and complete futility. What do we have to show for decades of hard work? Nothing — less than nothing. Things are far worse now than when we last met. You know the science, but you along with the rest of our ’best minds’ choose to ignore it, and now we are long since past the point of no return. We had a small chance back then,” Avanti motioned to the conference program in Martin’s hand. “But once again, we proved to be selfish, myopic people, poorly organized politically, socially, and economically, incapable of setting aside petty concerns and dealing with the obvious problems that are now out of control.”

Martin reopened the program. “The ‘population bomb.’ That hasn’t been taken seriously in more than fifty years.”

“Neither was global warming until the Arctic began to melt,” Avanti fired back, and Martin saw a glimpse of the old Jaime Avanti. “Twenty years ago, you yourself said that we were in retreat across every socioeconomic and environmental front. You even said it out loud: humans are the problem.”

“When I said that my intent was only to stimulate discussion and ultimately action. Besides what I really meant was that human nature was the problem.”

“Bullshit! At least give me the courtesy of the truth,” Avanti retorted. “I was there, I remember what you said, and we both know exactly what you meant, at least before you became a stooge for your government. I stood by what I said that day and I was stripped of everything.”

Martin stared at the ruined face of the Ukrainian; he had heard of his dismissal, but really never gave it much thought. “So your plan is to eradicate the human species,” he said softly.

“Not all of it. Just enough to restore a social and ecological balance. A world without borders, religions, or nationalities will emerge from the ashes of the old world. ”

“You’re back to the problem of containing something that can’t be contained.”

“Now we’ve come to why you are here.” Avanti reached for the small satchel. “Take this, open it.”

Martin stood and crossed the floor that separated the two men. “What’s in here?” He asked tentatively taking the bag from Avanti.

“A choice,” he answered cryptically.

Martin pulled out a small sealed canister, biohazard stickers wrapped around the length of it.

“It is all I could gather in secret. My coworkers watched that very closely. Please don’t break the seal, inside is a dehydrated form of the Hybrid Virus. This should help you in your work.”

“What’s this smaller vial?” Martin held up a glass ampule that held fifty milliliters of an amber fluid.

“Roughly one thousand doses of a vaccine that must be reformulated and administered within the next 48 hours. You see, Nathan, you are going to live, along with 999 other people of your choosing. I want you to reproduce this vaccine as rapidly as you can and distribute it worldwide. It is quite effective and should ultimately halt the spread of the infection.”

“But not until after billions have died,” Martin said bitterly.

“Approximately four point two billion; the computer estimates are accurate only if you begin work tomorrow.”

Patton watched the pretty brunette from his office television. Great, now they want to pin the governor’s assassination on us. As if on cue, his phone began to ring. He stared at it for a moment, wondering if he had the energy to deal with it. It had to be the mayor. The chief was out sick, and they were the only two who would call him directly.

“Good evening, Your Honor,” he said, but he didn’t mean it.

“Rodney, I know you’ve had a tough day, but I’m afraid I’m about to make it a little tougher. I just took a call from the Lieutenant-Governor. He’s had a tough day as well, but he graciously made room in his busy schedule to rip me a new one. He’s got some asshole telling him that the governor’s murder is somehow connected to what’s been happening here.”

Publicly, the mayor was a jovial, well-spoken man. Privately, he was something very different.

“I just saw something about that on the television,” said Patton, massaging his forehead with one hand, wondering how he could have ended up so far from home, so far from where things made sense. “I hate to say it, Billy, but it’s possible.” A pregnant pause followed. “I haven’t got a clue as to what’s happening here. There’s no rational explanation, and if this Bilsky character was up here like they say, hell, I’m starting to believe that anything is possible.”

“Anything may be possible, except this. I’m releasing a statement tonight that, in effect, says that there is no connection between Peter Bilsky and Colorado Springs, and I expect you to back that up. Ken Small died about an hour ago, and you just became interim chief of police.” The mayor spoke so rapidly that Patton wasn’t exactly sure that he had heard him correctly.

“Ken’s dead? What happened?”

“It’s not clear. He was at home with the flu and then he started having convulsions. He died at St. Mary’s. Sorry you had to hear about it this way, but life goes on, and we have a crisis to deal with.”

Patton put the shock of a colleague’s sudden death aside for a moment and focused on the mayor’s other bombshell. “You skipped over three more senior officers, Billy,” he said, and he understood why. Each of them would be in the running to fill Ken Small’s post permanently, and the mayor wouldn’t want any of them to be tainted by this crisis.

“My prerogative,” the mayor said simply. “Now, you have exactly thirty-six hours to come up with something I can take to the press that explains the violence. Don’t let me down, Rodney.” The line went dead.

Patton started to massage his head with two hands when a soft knock at the door disturbed him. “Who is it?” he demanded out of frustration.

“I’m sorry, sir.” It was one of the front desk officers. Patton tried to remember the man’s name but couldn’t, and the young man was so intimidated that he only poked his head around the door, hiding his nametag. “Ah, the old. . ah, detective is here and wants a word with you.”

How about scram , he thought. “Who is the ‘old. . ah detective’ you are referring to, Officer?” he said instead.