Pestilence

25

Samantha was behind Dr. Olsen as he showed them an electron microscope prototype that he proudly told them had cost the military twenty-seven million dollars. It could enhance an image half the width of a hydrogen atom, making it the most powerful microscope in the world.

Samantha glanced inside. The image had a faint green tint. Bouncing around next to each other were what looked like bright-purple beanbag chairs. They contorted and then straightened again as they rubbed and bumped each other.

There were three ways to make a vaccine. The first was to weaken the pathogen. The virus, which would be too weak to reproduce, was then injected into the recipient’s body. An immune response would still be generated, creating the antibodies that fought that virus for, typically, the rest of the recipient’s life.

The second method was to destroy the virus and then insert the husk into the patient. Since the immune system had seen and could recognize the shell, the body would produce antibodies. The benefit was little risk of infection to the recipient.

And the third way was to remove one part of the virus and use that particular piece to elicit an immune response. This way worked well because the body only recognized a full, healthy virus, not just one part, and developed all the antibodies it would have during a full infection.

Sam thought that injecting a live or even weakened poxvirus into a recipient was too dangerous. If Olsen was smart, he would be using destroyed husks.

Sam had seen Agent X under an electron microscope, and she knew she was looking at an active virus, but it wasn’t behaving normally. The virus was slow and seemed out of sync. Perhaps she was anthropomorphizing it, but she thought the virus was acting differently than it had the last time she’d seen it.

She deduced that Dr. Olsen must have chosen the first method of vaccine creation and had weakened the virus so that it could not reproduce.

“Have you done a phase three trial?” she asked, stepping away from the microscope.

“No,” Olsen replied. “In fact, we haven’t been able to do any substantial phase one studies. We’ve just never seen an organism like this. We maintain samples from the Oahu outbreak, but the ones found in the patients here are already different. In the span of a month, it’s mutated.”

Duncan had a look into the microscope. “I don’t think this will work.”

“Why not?” Olsen asked, seeming puzzled that he hadn’t received a more positive reaction.

“The virus is too strong. It’ll be able to replicate.”

“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.”