John Karr - Detonation Event

He noted two things. One, the arrangement of bed and dresser told him this was not the guest room where he’d laid his duffel bag and unpacked a few items. Two, he was alone now, but he hadn’t been earlier. The sheet and blanket where Karen Wagner had slept were pulled back. He could hear muffled voices. He rose, opened the door to the hallway, and followed the light and voices down the hall and into the kitchen.

Squinting, he found Karen Wagner awash in holo light from the front and sides. She stood at the kitchen counter, her side partially toward him and fingers working the keyboard of a computer. The side holos switched between images of reporters outside hospitals, news anchors, and tearful women and men. Karen almost appeared to be talking to the reporters, but all three were talking at the same time.

“Yes, I’m fully aware you’re in charge of the Earth operations, including the labs,” Karen said.

“…escalation at this hospital and others in the city has seen an alarming rise…” one reporter said.

“…young families are left grieving and wondering why they lost their children…” another said. “To date, there’s been no realization of the scope of the childbirth and infant mortality.”

Devans listened to them in confusion, then realized this was what the other passenger had mentioned on the Earth shuttle. He focused on Karen.

“…and that I’m in charge of one facility on the moon. Yes, the Lunar Labs. Events are sporadic at the SCONA medical facilities, but they reported no increase. Look, I’m trying to access whatever reports we have on this and contribute, not tread on your precious damn territory!” Her hair swayed back and forth as she shook her head. She paused, listening. “Okay, how about I start an independent investigation from yours and let’s meet to compare in a few days? Hello? Steffen?”

The floor squeaked beneath his weight. She turned, eyes wide.

“What is it?” Devans asked.

“Miscarriages.”

“Sorry?”

“The news… it’s all stories about miscarriages. My bosses at NIH weren’t aware there were so many, supposedly. I wasn’t aware there were so many.”

“Not good.”

“No.” She appeared lost in thought, then her brows arched. “Something to drink?”

“I’ll get it.”

But she was already moving to pull a glass from the cabinet.

“Water’s fine, thanks.”

He watched and tried the other news links. As Karen had said, all were running stories of human births in rapid decline. All forms of pregnancy; uterine and lab-derived, including cloning.

“More like free-fall,” Karen said, handing Devans the water. “And that’s just half of the horror.”

Devans drank a little then slowly set the glass on the table as the reporter went on. It wasn’t just newborns that were dying. Infants as old as five were perishing as well.

Karen closed her eyes.

“Some kind of plague, right?” Devans said. “Did you find anything internal at the NIH?”

“I scanned every directory I have access to. There were summarized log entries of sporadic reports, but I couldn’t find the reports themselves.”

“This couldn’t have gone unnoticed,” Devans said. “Why wouldn’t they include you? Lunar births are not as common as on Earth, but they do occur. Why wouldn’t the NIH include you in the emails and report circulation?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m on the moon. But that doesn’t make sense, because the planetary flights run daily.”

“What’s the scale?” Devans asked.

“International.”

Devans swore. “What are we talking, five or ten percent, maybe?”

“If we can believe these reports…” she said, taking a breath. “More like thirty-five.”

“God!”

“And rising.” She split the holo into four sections and rotated the sound at five-minute intervals. They watched panels of contributors commenting with news anchors about it. After a while she terminated the links, and the holo vanished.

Outside, the first tinges of dawn reddened the sky.

“Let’s get some air,” Devans suggested.

“I need some coffee first. Want some?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He went back to the bedroom for his shirt and casual loafers. When he walked back toward the kitchen, Karen emerged and handed him a steaming cup. She was about to set hers down to open a side closet when he gently took it from her. She wrapped a jacket around her robe, and they moved a few more paces into the small foyer. Her slippers swished a trifle as she walked.

“Any indications of its origin?” Devans asked.

“The oldest cases appear to be in Virginia,” Karen said as they walked out on the front porch.

Clouds blocked the sun on the horizon, but its light chased the night away from over the ocean.

Devans grunted and took a sip of coffee.

“Not just any part, either,” she added. “ Northern Virginia. Where my ex-boss is doing time for murder and endangerment from an alien life form. What are the odds of a coincidence?”

“Not good,” Devans said. “And this is something we haven’t really seen before, right?”

“The Black Plague of the Middle Ages, maybe,” she said, sipping coffee.

The sun burned through a cloud and the rays reflected in her eyes.

Devans shook his head. “What are the options?”

“I’ll arrange to have a test kit for MS274S34 waiting at Jackson Penitentiary. I want to know if Schiflet tests positive. I have already directed my crew on Lunar One to send the test formula to every hospital that’s had more than one stillborn or infant death within twenty-four hours.”

“Couldn’t we also test the blood of the victims, or their mothers?”

“Yes. Fathers, too.”

Devans nodded. “Even if Schiflet does test positive, it would be more of a derived conclusion. Circumstantial. We couldn’t actually prove it started with him.”

“Sometimes circumstantial is all you need. What’s your plan, Ry? You don’t have to take part in this. Sorry to cut the weekend short.”

“It’s going to take a few hours, but I’ll hover you up to Virginia in my rental.”

Her gaze lingered, then she shook her head. “Thanks, but we need faster.”

“Not sure we can swing a commercial flight with this late notice.”

“I’ll have NIH commandeer a hoverjet for us at ILM airport.”

“You can do that?”

“Faced with the possibility of extinction of the human race? Yes, I can. Ever flown a hoverjet?”

“War birds and private. Been a few years, though.”

“Good enough. I’ll wake Gwen and Trent. So far we don’t see adults with this kind of death scenario, but I think they should get back to space in a hurry.”

Devans had the small hoverjet ready for vertical takeoff when Karen Wagner climbed into the cockpit beside him.

“Ready?” he said.

She kissed him quickly and then turned forward. “Ready.”

Devans flew out over the ocean and headed north. It wasn’t long before the North Carolina coast far below gave way to Virginia. They flew directly for the landing pad at Jackson Federal Penitentiary in Manassas. Karen’s nails tapped at her briefcase.

The guards scanned the small hoverjet for contraband and weapons, then directed them to the visitors’ entrance. They followed a correctional robot inside, went through two more scanners, including one that inspected the contents of her small purse.

“We received this kit for you,” one of the guards said, handing a small satchel to her.

Karen unzipped it, checked the contents with a glance. “Thank you. It’s important no air was introduced to the test box with the indicator strip.”