Nicholas Smith - Extinction Horizon

Kate pressed her finger against the small pad and said, “Doctor Kate Lovato.”

The door buzzed, the glass panels whispered open, and she stepped inside the room the size of a high school chemistry lab. Three lab stations were centered in the room. Each stretched forty feet in one direction and fifteen in the other.

She smiled when she spied Dr. Michael Allen’s bald head hunched over a microscope at the farthest station. He was more than the team lead—he was Kate’s mentor and friend.

Michael was well-known and respected in the international virology community for the advances he’d made in Ebola research. He had been around long enough to have an answer for virtually any question Kate could throw at him. His mind was a wealth of knowledge about the viruses that most scientists wanted nothing more than to stay away from.

“Good morning,” she said, making her way to her station.

“Morning,” he replied in his cool, clinical voice.

“Where’s Dr. Ellis?”

“He’s been outsourced.”

Kate hesitated before taking another sip of coffee. The caffeine no longer seemed as important. “Outsourced where?”

“That’s classified. I don’t even know. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure. Typically these are just training missions.”

“Oh?” Kate asked. “Just a training mission?”

Michael twisted away from his monitor. Dark purple bags rimmed his hazel eyes. They were deeper than normal, more pronounced. Had he been up all night?

“Like I said, I don’t know much. The U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases sent the request through late yesterday afternoon. Colonel Rick Gibson called me personally. He’s an old friend, and he said they had to activate their EOC. As you know, protocol is to include the CDC. So I sent Ellis.”

His response didn’t offend Kate. At thirty years old, she was just happy to be where she was in her career. Not to mention she’d only been working under Michael for a year. Sure she had the credentials, but most of her career she’d spent traveling. Ellis was the obvious pick. What bothered her was the EOC activation. Michael had certainly downplayed it, but she couldn’t help wondering if it had something to do with the Ebola outbreak.

“Any updates?” Kate asked, changing the subject and taking a seat on the lab stool at her own terminal. She flicked the touchscreen and watched the display glow to life.

“Suit up,” Michael replied eagerly.

Kate furrowed her brow and swiveled her chair to face him. She knew what the deviation from his sometimes frustratingly calm voice could mean.

He’s made a breakthrough.

She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she could hardly contain her excitement as she prepared to enter the sterile environment of the BSL4 lab.

They entered the changing room together, or as Kate liked to call it, the space suit room. Four of the special suits hung from the wall.

She stripped down to her underwear in the center of the room, and Michael aped her action. They’d seen each other like this a hundred times; modesty was not part of the process.

A few minutes later, Kate was inside her suit. Michael zipped her up from behind and made sure everything was secure. The hiss of cold air sent a chill down Kate’s body as her suit was sealed off. The line swiftly pumped in oxygen. She took in a breath and checked on Michael. He gave her a thumbs up and prepared to enter the lab.

As he coded in his credentials, Kate felt her muscles tighten. She had handled Ebola samples a dozen times now, but the anxiety that preceded entering the lab never really seemed to go away. She’d seen the effects of the virus up close in Guinea. And even though she knew the chances of infection inside the lab were next to zero, she couldn’t help but think about it each time.

The trick was not thinking about the virus itself and instead compartmentalizing the work like an office worker would. She aligned each task in order and completed them one by one, carefully and slowly. There was urgency to their job, knowing that every minute they didn’t find a cure was another minute the virus was spreading. But she never let herself think like that. Working with the thought of a gun to her head would only cause an accident.

Kate joined Michael at the workstation where he was setting up a culture dish. He used a transfer pipette to squirt a sample into the small container. Moving to the microscope, he slid the dish underneath.

“These are endothelial cells. Take a look,” he said, gesturing her forward.

Kate hesitated. Was this the moment she had been waiting months for? She pressed her visor against the eyepiece. Microscopic strands of the Ebola virus moved about the sample. At first glance she didn’t see anything unusual. Nothing different than what she’d already studied before. Certainly nothing that told her this was a new strain.

Kate pulled her eye away, realizing with slight frustration that Michael was testing her. He stood a few feet away with his arms crossed.

“I don’t get it,” Kate said.

“That’s because you haven’t seen everything yet.”

She pursed her lips to speak but resisted the urge. Michael had spent forty years training and teaching scientists from around the world. He knew what he was doing. She reminded herself that he wasn’t messing with her—he was simply showing her what to look for.

Kate transferred the image to the main monitor for a better look. She could see the large cobblestone pattern of the endothelial cells now. The spaghetti-like strains of the virus attacked the pattern as she expected they would. The cells began to separate, ball up and die, but something was different. It was happening faster than normal.

Michael nodded, his features darkening.

“The virus has mutated,” Kate whispered.

“That’s why it’s spreading so fast and why the mortality rate is higher. When the virus infects the endothelial cells it causes a chain reaction that results in massive vascular damage, and ultimately…”

“Hemorrhaging,” Kate replied.

Michael nodded. “We are definitely dealing with a new strain here, Kate. And you are going to find us a cure.”

Beckham moved into the hallway where the rest of the team waited with their backs to the wall and their weapons at the ready. Static broke over the net and Caster said, “Noble found what he thinks is the entry to Level One of the laboratory. This way,” he said, leading the group down the dark passage.

They found Noble standing outside a steel door. A sign bolted into the middle read AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Next to the handle was the first non-discreet part of the entire set-up, a glass scanner just large enough for a keycard.

“They could have covered it with something,” Riley said.

Noble pulled a card attached to a cord from a pouch on his belt. He held it in front of the operator’s faceplate and said, “Wouldn’t matter. No one gets into this facility without one of these.”

A metallic click and a chirp rang out as Noble waved the card over the glass. The door cracked open and the doctor took a step back to make room for Spinoza. The operator planted one boot firmly in front of the other and then inched the door open with the barrel of his shotgun.

Beckham could hear the large Latino’s nervous breaths as he eased the door open with one hand while jamming the gun into the opening. Then he was gone, melting into the darkness beyond.

The silence was broken by the rustling of the teams’ new suits. It was a sound that made Beckham cringe.

Unseen and unheard , Beckham thought. They weren’t living up to their motto. He watched Horn move next. The operator’s six foot two frame and modified M27 narrowly squeezed through the door.