Greg Krojac - The Schrödinger Enigma

A computer program data mined all relevant information and concluded that Ground zero was Dutch Harbor, and, more specifically, the crew of the F/V Alaskan Mermaid. The Unalaska City Council had acted promptly and taken the correct measures in quarantining the town, but unfortunately the precautions were too late – the disease had already been allowed to escape. There had been nothing that anyone could have done to prevent this pandemic; nobody had even felt ill until seven days after the virus had infected them.

Anybody who had been on the Alaskan Mermaid on that fateful night had been infected, and a digital search was made to confirm the status of the crew of both the trawler and the helicopter that had retrieved Voyager One. As expected, everybody had fallen prey to the disease and died – except one. Doctor Sitara Khan.

Sitara was just about to start eating her lunch, when two dark-suited men approached her table in the cafeteria at NASA HQ in Washington DC. She had wanted to go back to her own lab at JPL back in Pasadena, but was now under orders to remain in Washington DC. One of the men took a document from his inside jacket pocket.

“Miss Khan? Miss Sitara Khan?”

Sitara put her cutlery back on the table.

“Doctor Sitara Khan. Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?”

The Secret Service agent unfolded the document.

“Doctor Sitara Khan, the President of the United States of America hereby authorises your Federal isolation and quarantine under section 361 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S. Code §264). You need to accompany us to the National Institute of Health Special Clinical Studies Unit in the city of Bethesda, Maryland. Will you please come with us:”

Understandably, Sitara was taken aback at this unexpected interruption to her mealtime.

“Am I under arrest, agent?”

“I’m Federal Agent Steve Barber and my colleague is Federal Agent Don Hathaway. No Doctor Khan, you are not under arrest.”

“So can I say no, Steve?”

“No Doctor Khan, you may not refuse to come with us.”

“May I finish my meal?”

“Sorry Doctor Khan. You need to come with us now. You can eat at the NIH campus.”

Although the warrant strayed a little from the main intention of the Act, it was actually unnecessary, as Sitara understood completely the ramifications of her apparent immunity. She had already suggested to Acting Administrator Nelson that she should undergo medical scrutiny. She stood up and started to leave the room. Agent Barber walked alongside her.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Doctor Khan.”

Sitara smiled at him.

“You only had to ask.”

She thought that they would be going to, by car but the Agent Barber explained that the roads out of Washington DC, like most cities, had been closed and people were now turning round and driving back to their homes. Instead, the three of then took the elevator to the helipad on the roof of the building, where a helicopter was waiting to take them to the NIH campus.

Later that night the new President (formally the Vice-President), the speaker of the House, the Senate President, the Secretary of State, and the Secretary of the Treasury all died, leaving the Secretary of Defense in charge of the nation. Ironically, this pandemic was one enemy that he couldn’t defeat by military means, leaving him feeling powerless in probably the most powerful position in the world.

The visor of the canary yellow hazmat helmet misted up momentarily as Nolan stood by the bed, looking into the vacant lifeless eyes of the woman, imagining how beautiful she must have been when she was alive. Of course, her beauty hadn’t suddenly disappeared in a puff of smoke when she had died three hours earlier, but the vibrancy that would have accompanied it was now missing. He called out to his colleague who was in the living room.

“Who was she, Triggs?”

Daniel Trigger, sitting alongside two dead teenage girls, who had spent their dying moments huddled together on the sofa, checked the address on his tablet.

“The MILF? She’s Nadine Shumacher and these two beauties are fifteen year old Melody Schumacher and thirteen year old Carole-Anne. Says here, the father, Grant Schumacher died four days ago. Same symptoms.”

Nolan would have preferred to have been working with anyone else but Triggs, but he had no say in the matter. Triggs was way too disrespectful to the dead for his liking.

Triggs stood up and dragged Melody’s body to the side of the sofa, making space enough for him to sit between the two girls. Once seated comfortably, he took his cell-phone from a pouch on the left leg of his hazmat suit and stretched his arm out in front of him to take a selfie. He stopped for a moment, rearranged the girls’ bodies so that it looked like they were snuggling up to him, and took a photo. He then joined his partner in the main bedroom. Nolan shook his head.

“She must’ve died first. Otherwise she’d’ve [1] I know this looks weird, and I’m not completely sure the spelling is correct, but often in texas people shorten “she would have” to one word. probably been with the girls. She probably left them watching TV in the living room so they didn’t have to see her die.”

Triggs moved to the foot of the bed, stepping over Nadine’s soiled jeans that she had removed and tossed onto the floor when they had become too caked with human waste, and pulled her body down the bed towards him, Nolan didn’t like the direction that this was taking.

“What the fuck are you doing, Triggs? Let’s bag ’em [2] be sure to check for consistence. I change this b/c on the next page you use ’em, not them. Both are Nolan speaking. up and get them out of here.”

Triggs ignored his companion and instead threw his phone towards Nolan, who instinctively caught it, much against his wishes. Triggs removed his hazmat helmet and nodded at Nadine’s body.

“Take a photo for me, Nolan.”

Nolan couldn’t believe what was happening.

“No way am I taking a photo. And for fuck’s sake, put your helmet back on. You got a death wish or something?

Triggs ignored Nolan’s disgust, opened his mouth and let tongue dart in and out between his lips like a snake sucking information from the air around him. Nolan’s face looked like thunder.

“I’m warning you man—” [3] the quotations are backwards here, but not sure how to fix in Word

Triggs hooked his forefingers around the waist of Nadine’s lacy white panties and went to pull them down but was hurled backwards as a fist suddenly came out of nowhere and delivered searing pain just under his nose. Nolan stood before his workmate, who was picking himself up off the bedroom floor.

“I warned you man. You can’t treat people like that. I don’t know who raised your ass, but it certainly wasn’t a God-fearing woman like my mama. A pack of dogs, maybe, from what I’ve seen. You don’t treat women like that. Dead or alive, you don’t treat ’em like that.” [4] in our email convo, you said that Triggs was defnitely southern, but didn’t say anything about Nolan. This is definitely a southern accent, so I’m going to assume that he is as well.

Triggs wiped blood from his split lip.

“It’s just a bit of fun. She wouldn’t complain. I’ve always wanted to fuck a woman as good lookin’ as she is.”

Nolan closed his eyes and shook his head.”

“You’re a sick motherfucker, Triggs. Ain’t no place for that kind of thing.”

Closing his eyes, even for a moment, was a mistake that Nolan would regret for the rest of his life. Triggs punched him in the stomach with all the force that he could muster. Nolan doubled over, and Triggs’s knee came up and struck him square in the jaw. Nolan was still wearing his helmet, but it was designed to give protection against microbes and germs, not physical attack. As he wavered unsteadily, Triggs ripped off his colleague’s helmet, linked his hands into one conjoined fist and brought it down heavily onto the back of Nolan’s neck. His colleague, now almost unconscious, could do nothing more to protect Nadine’s dignity, but the adrenaline of the fight had replaced Triggs’s lascivious sexual desire with bloodlust. He looked around the room for a weapon and his eyes rested upon a heavy-looking statuette on the dressing-table. He picked it up and felt the weight in his hand. It was perfect. He walked over to Nolan who was trying to get to his feet, although still very groggy. Triggs raised the statuette above his head and brought it down hard onto Nolan’s skull, again and again, always in the same spot, until he heard the splintering of bone and his partner slumped to the floor, all life beaten out of him, lying in an expanding pool of his own blood.