Invasion

19

12:45 A.M.

Pitt kicked a few of the pebbles in the driveway of the old gas station. He bent down and picked up others and threw them absently at the ancient pumps. The stones clanged against the rusting metal.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, which was now significantly more formidable in its heat and intensity than two hours earlier, Pitt scanned the two-lane road to its vanishing point on the horizon. He began to worry. He’d thought she would have been there already.

Just when he was about to retreat back to the shade of the porch, his eye caught the glint of sunlight off a windshield. A vehicle was coming.

Unconsciously Pitt’s hand slipped down to envelop the butt of the Colt. There was always the worry that it wasn’t Cassy.

As the vehicle got closer, Pitt could make out that it was a late-model recreational vehicle with large tires and a built-in luggage rack on the top. It was coming fast.

For a moment Pitt contemplated hiding inside the building the way Harlan had done, but he dismissed the idea. After all, Jesse’s van was sitting right there in plain sight.

The vehicle pulled into the station. Pitt wasn’t sure it was Cassy until she opened the door and called out to him. The windows were heavily tinted.

Pitt got to the vehicle in time to help Cassy down. She was coughing and her eyes were red-rimmed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t get too close,” Cassy said in a deeply nasal voice. “We don’t know for sure whether this can spread person to person like an infection.”

Ignoring her comment, Pitt enveloped her in an enthusiastic embrace. The only reason he let go of her was concern about her getting the antibody.

“I brought some of the medicine I mentioned on the Internet with me,” Pitt said. “Obviously we think it is best to get it into your system as soon as possible and that means intravenous.”

“Where should we do it?” Cassy asked.

“In the van,” he said.

They walked around the vehicle to its slider.

“How are you feeling?” Pitt asked.

“Terrible,” Cassy admitted. “I couldn’t get comfortable in that four-by-four; the ride is so stiff. All my muscles ache. I’ve also got a fever. A half hour ago I was shivering, if you can believe it in this heat.”

Pitt opened the van door. He had Cassy lie down on the van’s seat. He prepared the syringe, but then, after putting on the tourniquet, he admitted his inexperience at venipuncture.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Cassy said, looking off in the opposite direction. “Just do it. I mean, you’re going to be a doctor.”

Pitt had seen medication administered IV thousands of times but never had tried it himself. The idea of puncturing another person’s skin was daunting, much less a person he loved. But the consequences of not doing it overwhelmed any timidity he had. Ultimately it went well, and Cassy told him as much.

“You’re just being a good sport,” Pitt said.

“No, really,” Cassy said. “I hardly felt it.” No sooner had she complimented him than she had an explosive bout of coughing that left her gasping.

Pitt was momentarily terrified she was having a reaction to the shot as Harlan had warned. Although Pitt had had CPR training, he’d never actually done that, either. Anxiously he held her wrist to feel her pulse. Thankfully it stayed strong and regular.

“Sorry,” Cassy managed when she could get her breath.

“Are you okay?” Pitt asked.

Cassy nodded.

“Thank God!” Pitt said. He swallowed to relieve a dry throat. “You stay here on the backseat. We’ve got about a twenty-minute drive.”

“Where are we going?” Cassy asked.

“To a place that’s like an answer to a prayer,” Pitt said. “It’s an underground lab built to deal with a biological or chemical warfare attack. It’s perfect for what we have to do. I mean, if we can’t do it there, then we can’t do it. It’s that good. Plus it has a sick bay where we can take care of you.”

Pitt started to climb into the front seat when Cassy took hold of his arm. “What if this antibody doesn’t work?” she said. “I mean, you warned me it was weak and very preliminary. What will you do with me if I turn into one of them? I don’t want to jeopardize what you all are doing.”

“Don’t worry,” Pitt said. “There’s a doctor there named Harlan McCay who was stung and is still fine after getting the antibody. But if worst comes to worst, there are what he calls containment rooms. But everything is going to be fine.” Pitt gave her shoulder a pat.

“Save the clichés, Pitt,” Cassy said. “With everything that has happened, it can’t turn out fine.”

Pitt shrugged. He knew she was right.

Pitt got behind the wheel, started the van, and pulled out into the road. Cassy remained lying on the backseat. “I hope there’s some aspirin where we’re going,” she said. She was as sick as she’d ever felt in her life.

“I’m sure there is,” Pitt said. “If the sick bay is like the rest of the place, it’s got everything.”

They rode in silence for a few miles. Pitt was concentrating on the driving for fear of missing the turnoff. On his way out he’d built a small cairn of rocks to mark it, but now he was afraid it wouldn’t help. The rocks had been small and everything was the same color.

“I can’t help but worry that my coming here was a bad idea,” Cassy said after another coughing spell.

“Don’t talk that way!” Pitt said. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s been more than six hours now,” Cassy said. “Maybe even more. I wasn’t all that sure of the time when I was stung. So much has been happening.”

“What happened to Nancy and Jesse?” Pitt asked. It was a question he’d avoided, but he wanted to change the subject.

“Nancy was stung,” Cassy said. “They infected her in my presence. I couldn’t figure out why they didn’t do it to me until later. Jesse was a different story. I believe the same thing happened to him as to Eugene. But I’m not sure. I didn’t see it. I just heard it, and there was a flash of light. Nancy said it was the same as before.”

“Harlan thinks those black discs can create miniature black holes,” Pitt said.

Cassy shuddered. The idea of disappearing down a black hole seemed like the epitome of destruction. Even one’s atoms would be gone from the universe.

“I saw Beau again,” Cassy said.

Pitt turned to glance at Cassy before looking back at the road. It was the last thing he expected her to say.

“How was he?” Pitt asked.

“Horrid,” Cassy said. “And he’s changed visibly. He’s mutating progressively. Last time I saw him it was only a patch of skin behind his ear. Now it’s most of his body. It’s strange because the other infected people didn’t seem to be changing. I don’t know if they will or if it has something to do with Beau being the first. He’s definitely a leader. They all do what he wants.”

“Did he have anything to do with your being stung?” Pitt asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Cassy said. “He did it himself.”

Pitt shook his head imperceptibly. He couldn’t believe that his best friend could do such a thing, but then again he was no longer his best friend. He was an alien.

“The most horrid part for me was that there was still some of the old Beau inside,” Cassy said. “He even told me that he missed me and that he loved me. Can you believe it?”

“No,” Pitt said simply, while fuming that Beau, even as an alien, was still trying to take Cassy away from him.

Beau was standing to the side in the shadows behind the command control unit of the Gateway. His eyes were glowing fiercely. It was hard for him to concentrate on the problems at hand, but he had to. Time was running out.

“Maybe we should try to charge some of the electrical grids again,” Randy called over to Beau. Randy was sitting at the controls. A minor glitch had developed, and as of yet, Beau had not suggested a solution.

Yanked from a daydream about Cassy, Beau tried to think. The problem from the beginning had been to create enough energy to turn the powerful, instantaneous gravity of a group of black discs working in concert into antigravity and still have the Gateway stay together. The reaction would only have to last a nanosecond as it sucked matter from a parallel universe into the current one. Suddenly the answer came to Beau; more shielding was needed.

“All right,” Randy said, pleased to get some direction. He in turn alerted the thousands of workers who immediately swarmed back up into the superstructure on the gigantic construct.

“Do you think this will work?” Randy called over to Beau.

Beau communicated that he thought it would. He advised to power up all the electrical grids for an instant as soon as the augmented shielding was completed.

“What worries me is that you told me the first visitors are due tonight,” Randy said. “It would be a calamity if we weren’t ready. The individuals would be lost in the void as mere primary particles.”

Beau grunted. He was more interested that Alexander had entered the room. Beau watched him approach. Beau didn’t like the vibrations. He could tell they hadn’t found her.

“We followed her spoor,” Alexander reported. He purposefully stayed out of Beau’s reach. “It led us to where she’d taken a vehicle. Now we’re looking for the vehicle.”

“You will find her!” Beau snarled.

“We will find her,” Alexander repeated soothingly. “By now her consciousness should be expanding, and that will help us a great deal.”

“Just find her,” Beau said.

“You know, I don’t have any explanation,” Sheila said.

She and Harlan were seated on laboratory stools on wheels that allowed them to zip from bench to bench.

Harlan had his chin cradled in his hand and was chewing the inside of his cheek. It was a habit he’d developed that indicated he was deep in thought.

“Could we have done something stupid?” Sheila asked.

Harlan shook his head. “We’ve been over our protocol several times. It wasn’t technique. It has to be a real finding.”

“Let’s go over it once again,” Sheila said. “Nancy and I had taken a tissue culture of human nasopharyngeal cells and added the enabling protein.”

“What was the vehicle for the protein?” Harlan asked.

“Normal tissue culture medium,” Sheila said. “The protein is fully soluble in an aqueous solution.”

“All right, what next?” Harlan said.

“We simply let the culture incubate,” Sheila said. “We could tell that the virus had been activated because of the rapid synthesis of DNA over and above what was needed for cell replication.”

“How did you assay that?” Harlan asked.

“We used inactivated adenovirus to carry DNA probes labeled with fluorescein into the cells.”

“What next?” Harlan asked.

“That was as far as we got,” Sheila said. “We put the cultures aside to incubate further, hoping to get viruses.”

“Well, you got them all right,” Harlan said.

“Yeah, but look at this image. Under the scanning electron microscope the virus looks like it’s been through a miniature meat grinder. This virus is noninfective. Something killed it, but there was nothing in the culture capable of doing that. It doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t make sense, but my gut instinct is that it is trying to tell us something,” Harlan said. “We’re just too stupid to see it.”

“Maybe we should just try it again,” Sheila said. “Maybe the culture got too hot riding in the car.”

“You’d packed it well,” Harlan said. “I don’t think that’s the answer. But fine, let’s do it again. Also, I have some mice that I have been infecting. I suppose we could try to isolate the virus from them.”

“Great idea!” Sheila said. “That might be even easier.”

“Don’t count on it,” Harlan said. “The infected mice are amazingly strong and incredibly smart. I have to keep them apart and under lock and key.”

“Good Lord,” Sheila said. “Are you suggesting the mice are becoming alien too?”

“I’m afraid that’s right,” Harlan said. “In some form or fashion. My supposition is that if there were enough infected mice all in one location they could collectively act as an intelligent, single individual.”

“Maybe we better stick to tissue cultures for the time being,” Sheila said. “One way or the other we’ve got to isolate live, infective virus. It has to be the next step if we’re going to do anything about this infestation.”

The hiss of the air lock pressurizing sounded.

“That must be Pitt,” Jonathan shouted. He ran out to the air lock door and peered through the porthole. “It is Pitt, and Cassy is with him!” he shouted back to the others.

Harlan picked up a vial of newly extracted monoclonal antibody. “I think I’d better put on my physican hat for a little while,” he said.

Sheila reached out and motioned for him to give her the vial. “Emergency medicine is my specialty,” she said. “We need you as the immunologist.”

Harlan handed it over. “Gladly,” he said. “I’ve always been a better researcher than clinician.”

The air lock opened. Jonathan helped Cassy step through the hatch. She was pale and feverish. Jonathan’s excitement moderated. She was sicker than he’d realized. Still, he couldn’t help but ask where his mother was.

Cassy put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We were separated very quickly after we were caught in the supermarket. I don’t know where she is.”

“Was she stung?” Jonathan asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Cassy said.

“Come on!” Sheila said. “We have work to do.” She put Cassy’s arm over her shoulder. “Let’s get you into the infirmary.”

With Sheila on one side and Pitt on the other they walked Cassy through the lab to the sick bay. She was introduced to Harlan en route. He held open the door for them.

“I think it best if she occupies one of the containment rooms,” Harlan said. He pushed past the group and led the way.

The room looked like a regular hospital room except for its entrance, which had an air lock so the room could be kept at a lower pressure than the rest of the complex. The inner door was also lockable and the glass in the porthole was an inch thick.

Everyone crowded into the room. With help from both Sheila and Pitt, Cassy stretched out on the bed and sighed with relief.

Sheila went right to work. With practiced deftness she started an IV, then gave a sizable dose of the monoclonal antibody. She injected it into the intravenous port on the IV line.

“Did you have any adverse reaction to the first shot?” Sheila asked as she momentarily sped up the IV to carry the last of the antibody into Cassy’s system.

Cassy shook her head.

“There was no problem,” Pitt said. “Except for a coughing spell which scared me. But I don’t think it was related to the medication.”

Sheila attached Cassy to a cardiac monitor. The beats were normal and the rhythm regular.

“Have you felt any different since that first shot?” Harlan asked.

“Not that I can tell,” Cassy said.

“That’s not surprising,” Sheila said. “The symptoms are mainly from your own lymphokines, which we know shoot up in the early stages.”

“I want to thank you all for letting me come here,” Cassy said. “I know you are taking a risk.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Harlan said, giving her knee a squeeze. “Who knows, like me you may be a valuable experimental subject.”

“I wish,” Cassy said.

“Are you hungry?” Sheila asked.

“Not in the slightest,” Cassy said. “But I could certainly use some aspirin.”

Sheila looked at Pitt. “I think I’ll turn that over to Dr. Henderson,” she said with a wry smile. “Meanwhile the rest of us have to get back to work.”

Harlan was the first to leave. Sheila paused with one leg into the air lock. Looking back she waved to Jonathan. “Come on. Let’s leave the patient to her doctor.”

Jonathan reluctantly followed.

“You were right,” Cassy said. “This place is unbelievable.”

“It’s just what the doctor ordered,” Pitt said. “Let me get you that aspirin.”

It took Pitt a few minutes to find the pharmacy and a few more to locate the aspirin. When he returned to the confinement room, he found that Cassy had been sleeping.

“I don’t want to bother you,” Pitt said.

“No bother,” Cassy said. She took the aspirin, then lay back. She patted the bedside. “Sit down for a minute,” she said. “I’ve got to tell you what I learned from Beau. This nightmare is about to get worse.”

The tranquility of the desert was suddenly shattered by the repetitive concussion of the rotor blades and the roar of the Huey military jet engine as the copter swept low across the barren landscape. Inside Vince Garbon held a pair of binoculars to his eyes. He’d told the pilot to follow a strip of black tarmac that cut across the sand from horizon to horizon. In the backseat were two former police officers from Vince’s old unit.

“The last word we have is that the vehicle came out this road,” Vince shouted to the pilot over the sound of the engine. The pilot nodded.

“I see something coming up,” Vince said. “It looks like an old gas station, but there’s a vehicle and it fits the description.”

The pilot slowed the forward progress. Vince held the binoculars as steady as he could.

“Yup,” he said. “I think it’s the one. Let’s go down and have a look.”

The helicopter lowered to the earth, kicking up a horrendous swirl of sand and dust in the process. When the skids were firmly on the ground, the pilot cut the engine. The heavy rotors slowed and came to a stop. Vince climbed out of the cab.

The first thing Vince checked was the vehicle. He opened the door and could immediately sense that Cassy had been in it. He looked in the luggage space. It was empty.

Motioning toward the building, the two former policemen went inside. Vince stayed outside and let his eyes roam around the horizon. It was so hot that he could see heat rising in the air.

The policemen came out quickly and shook their heads. She wasn’t in there.

Vince motioned back to the copter. He was close. He could sense it. After all, how far could she get on foot in that heat?

Pitt came into the lab. everyone was working so intently that they didn’t even raise their heads.

“She’s finally sleeping,” he said.

“Did you lock the outer door?” Harlan asked.

“No,” Pitt said. “Do you think I should?”

“Absolutely,” Sheila said. “We don’t want any surprises.”

“I’ll be right back,” Pitt said. He returned to the air lock and looked in at Cassy. She was still sleeping peacefully. Her coughing had significantly abated. Pitt locked the door.

Returning to the lab, he took a seat. Again no one acknowledged him. Sheila was engrossed, inoculating tissue cultures with the enabling protein. Harlan was extracting more antibody. Jonathan was at a computer terminal wearing earphones and working a joystick.

Pitt asked Jonathan what he was doing. Jonathan took off the earphones. “It’s really cool,” he said. “Harlan showed me how to connect with all the monitoring equipment topside. There are cameras hidden in fake cacti which can be directed with this joystick. There’s also listening devices and motion sensors. Want to try it?”

Pitt declined. Instead he told the others that Cassy had described to him some astounding and disturbing things about the aliens.

“Like what?” Sheila asked while continuing to work.

“The worst thing,” Pitt said, “is that they have the infected people building a huge futuristic machine they call a Gateway.”

“And what’s this Gateway supposed to do?” Sheila asked, while gently swirling a tissue culture flask.

“It’s some kind of transporter,” Pitt said. “She was told that it will bring all sorts of alien creatures to Earth from distant planets.”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Sheila exclaimed. She put down the flask. “We can’t face any more adversaries. Maybe we’d better just give up.”

“When is this Gateway going to be operational?” Harlan asked.

“I asked the same question,” Pitt said. “Cassy didn’t know, but she had the impression it was imminent. Beau told her it was almost finished. Cassy said there were thousands of people working on it.”

Sheila exhaled noisily in exasperation. “What other charming news did she tell you?”

“Some interesting facts,” Pitt said. “For instance, the alien virus first came to earth three billion years ago. That’s when it inserted its DNA into the evolving life.”

Sheila’s eyes narrowed. “Three billion years ago?” she questioned.

Pitt nodded. “That’s what Beau told her. He also told her that the aliens have sent the enabling protein every hundred million Earth years or so to ‘awaken’ the virus to see what kind of life has evolved here and whether it was worth inhabiting. What he meant by Earth years she didn’t ask.”

“Maybe that relates to their ability to go from one universe to another,” Harlan said. “Here in ours we are caught in a space/time freeze. But from the point of view of another universe, what’s a billion years here, might only be ten years there. Everything’s relative.”

Harlan’s explanation brought on a moment of silence. Pitt shrugged. “Well, I can’t say it makes much sense to me,” he said.

“It’s like a fifth dimension,” Harlan said.

“Whatever,” Pitt said. “But getting back to what Cassy was telling me, apparently this alien virus is responsible for the mass extinctions the Earth has witnessed. Every time they came back here, the creatures they infested weren’t suitable, so they left.”

“And all the creatures they’d infected died?” Sheila asked.

“That’s how I understand it,” Pitt said. “The virus must have made some lethal change in the DNA causing the disappearance of entire species. That created an opportunity for new creatures to evolve. She told me that Beau had specifically mentioned this with regard to the dinosaurs.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Harlan said. “So much for the asteroid or comet theory.”

“How did the creatures die?” Sheila asked. “I mean, what was the specific cause of death?”

“I don’t think she knew that,” Pitt said. “At least she didn’t tell me. But I can ask her later.”

“It might be important,” Sheila said. She stared off into the middle distance with unseeing eyes. Her mind was churning. “And the virus supposedly came to Earth three billion Earth years ago?”

“That’s what she said.”

“What are you thinking?” Harlan asked.

“Is there any anaerobic bacteria available in the lab?” Sheila asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Harlan said.

“Let’s get some and infect it with the enabling protein,” Sheila said with mounting excitement.

“Okay,” Harlan said agreeably. He stood up. “But what’s on your mind? Why do you want bacteria that grows without oxygen?”

“Humor me,” Sheila said. “Just get it while I prepare some more enabling protein.”

Beau threw open the French doors leading from the sitting room to the terrace surrounding the pool. He stepped out and strode across the terrace. Alexander hurried after him.

“Beau, please!” Alexander said. “Don’t go! We need you here.”

“They found her car,” Beau said. “She’s lost in the desert. Only I can find her. By now she should be far on her way to becoming one with us.”

Beau descended the few steps from the terrace to the lawn and struck out toward the waiting helicopter. Alexander stayed at his heels.

“Surely this woman cannot be so important,” Alexander said. “You can have any woman you want. This is not the time to leave the Gateway. We’ve not even tested the grids to full power. What if we are not ready?”

Beau spun around. His narrow lips were pulled back in fury. “This woman is driving me mad. I must find her. I’ll be back. Until then, carry on without me.”

“Why not wait until tomorrow?” Alexander persisted. “By then the Arrival will have occurred. Then you can go look for her. There’ll be plenty of time.”

“If she’s lost in the desert she will be dead by tomorrow,” Beau said. “It’s decided.”

Beau turned back to the copter and quickly closed the distance. For the last few feet he had to duck under the rotating blade. He climbed into the front seat next to the pilot, nodded a greeting to Vince in the backseat, then motioned for the pilot to lift off.

“How long has it been?” Sheila asked.

“About an hour,” Harlan said.

“That should be enough time,” Sheila said impatiently. “One of the first things we learned was how fast the enabling protein functioned once it was absorbed into a cell. Now let’s give the culture a slight dose of soft X-rays.”

Harlan looked askance at Sheila. “I’m beginning to get the drift of what’s going on in that brain of yours,” he said. “You’re treating this virus like a provirus, which it is. And now you want to change it from its latent form into its lytic form. But why the anaerobic bacteria? Why no oxygen?”

“Let’s see what happens before I explain,” Sheila said. “Just keep your fingers crossed. This could be what we are looking for. An alien Achilles’ heel.”

They gave the infected bacterial culture the dose of X-rays without disturbing its atmosphere of carbon dioxide. As they made mounts for the scanning electron microscope, Sheila found her hands trembling with excitement. She hoped with all her heart that they were on the brink of discovery.

With one of his powerful legs, Beau kicked the door of the deserted gas station. The blow tore it from its hinges and sent it crashing into the far wall of the room. Stepping into the dim interior, Beau’s eyes glowed intensely. The helicopter ride had done little to temper his fury.

He stood in the semidarkness for several seconds, then turned around and walked back out into the bright sunshine.

“She was never in there,” Beau said.

“I didn’t think so,” Vince said. He was bending down in the sand on the opposite side of the aged gas pumps. “There are some other fresh tire tracks here.” He stood up and looked toward the east. “There must have been a second vehicle. Maybe they picked her up.”

“What do you suggest?” Beau asked.

“Apparently she hasn’t appeared in any town,” Vince said. “Otherwise we would have heard. That means she’s out here in the desert. We know there are isolated groups of ‘runners’ hiding out in the area who’ve so far avoided infection. Maybe she joined up with one of them.”

“But she’s infected,” Beau said.

“I know,” Vince said. “That part is a mystery. Anyway, I think we should head east along this road and see if we can find any tracks going off into the desert. There must be some kind of camp.”

“All right,” Beau said. “Let’s do it. Time is running out.”

They climbed back into the helicopter and lifted off. The pilot was ordered to fly high enough to keep from kicking up too much sand and dust yet low enough to see any tracks heading away from the road.

“My gosh, there it is,” Harlan said. They had focused in on a virion at sixty thousand times magnification. It was a large filamentous virus that looked like a filoviridae with tiny, cilialike projections.

“It’s awesome to think that we are looking at a highly intelligent alien life form,” Sheila said. “We’ve always thought of viruses and bacteria as primitive.”

“I don’t think it is the alien per se,” Pitt said. “Cassy mentioned that the viral form was what enabled the alien to withstand space travel and infest other life forms in the galaxy. Apparently Beau didn’t know what the original alien form looked like.”

“Maybe that’s what the Gateway is for,” Jonathan said. “Maybe the virus likes it here so much, the aliens themselves are coming.”

“Could be,” Pitt said.

“All right,” Harlan said to Sheila. “So this little trick with the anaerobic bacteria worked. We’ve seen the virus. What was your mysterious point?”

“The point is that this virus came to Earth three billion years ago,” Sheila said. “At that time the Earth was a very different place. There was very little oxygen in the primitive atmosphere. Since then things have changed. The virus is still fine when it is in the latent form or even when it has been enabled and has transformed the cell. But if it is induced to form virions, it’s destroyed by oxygen.”

“Interesting idea,” Harlan said. He looked down at the culture whose top was now off, exposing its surface to room air. “If that’s the case then we’ll see damaged, un-infective virus if we make another mount.”

“That’s exactly what I’m hoping,” Sheila said.

Without wasting any time, Sheila and Harlan set to work creating a second sample. Pitt helped as best he could. Jonathan went back to playing with the computer-run security system.

When Harlan focused in on the new mount, it was immediately apparent that Sheila was right. The viruses appeared as if they had been partially eaten.

Sheila and Harlan jumped up from their seats and enthusiastically high-fived and then embraced each other. They were ecstatic.

“What a brilliant idea,” Harlan said. “You’re to be congratulated. It’s a joy to see science in action.”

“If we were doing real science,” Sheila said, “we’d go back and exhaustively prove this hypothesis. For now, we’ll just take it at face value.”

“Oh, I agree,” Harlan said. “But it makes such sense. It’s amazing how toxic oxygen is and how few laypeople know it.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Pitt said. “How does this help us?”

The smiles faded from Sheila’s and Harlan’s faces. They regarded each other for a beat, then retook their seats. Both were lost in thought.

“I’m not sure how this discovery is going to help us,” Sheila said finally. “But it has to. I mean, it must be the alien Achilles’ heel.”

“It must have been the way that they killed off the dinosaurs,” Harlan said. “Once they decided to end the infestation, the viruses all went from being latent to being virions. Then bam! They hit the oxygen and all hell broke loose.”

“That doesn’t sound very scientific,” Sheila said with a smile.

Harlan laughed. “I agree,” he said. “But it gives us a hint. We have to induce the virus in the infected people to go from being latent to coming out of the cell.”

“How is a latent virus induced?” Pitt asked.

Harlan shrugged. “A lot of ways,” he said. “In tissue culture it’s usually done with electromagnetic radiation like ultraviolet light or soft X rays like we used with the anaerobic bacterial culture.”

“There are some chemicals that can do it,” Sheila said.

“That’s true,” Harlan. “Some of the antimetabolites and other cellular poisons. But that doesn’t help us. Neither do X rays. I mean it’s not as if we could suddenly X-ray the planet.”

“Are there regular viruses that are latent like the alien virus?” Pitt asked.

“Plenty,” Sheila said.

“Absolutely,” Harlan agreed. “Like the AIDS virus.”

“Or the whole herpes viral group,” Sheila said. “They can hide out for life or cause intermittent problems.”

“You mean like cold sores?” Pitt asked.

“That’s right,” Sheila said. “That’s herpes simplex. It stays latent in certain neurons.”

“So when you get a cold sore it means that a latent virus has been induced to form virus particles?” Pitt asked.

“That’s right,” Sheila said with a touch of exasperation.

“I get cold sores every time I get a cold,” Pitt said. “I suppose that’s why they’re called cold sores.”

“Very clever,” Sheila said sarcastically. “Pitt, maybe you should leave us alone while we brainstorm. This isn’t supposed to be a teaching session.”

“Wait a second,” Harlan said. “Pitt just gave me an idea.”

“I did?” Pitt questioned innocently.

“You know what is the best viral induction agent?” Harlan asked rhetorically. “Another viral infection.”

“How is that going to help us?” Sheila asked.

Harlan pointed to the large freezer door across the room. “In there we’ve got all sorts of viruses. I’m starting to think that we should fight fire with fire!”

“You mean start some kind of epidemic?” Sheila asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Harlan said. “Something extraordinarily infectious.”

“But that freezer is full of viruses designed to be used as biological warfare agents. That will be like going from the frying pan into the fire.”

“Hell, that freezer has everything from nuisance viruses to the most deadly,” Harlan said. “We just have to pick one that’s suitable.”

“Well... ” Sheila mused. “It is true our original tissue culture was probably induced by the adenoviral vehicle we used for the DNA assay.”

“Come on!” Harlan said. “Let me show you the inventory.”

Sheila stood up. She was very dubious about fighting fire with fire, but she wasn’t about to dismiss the idea out of hand.

Next to the freezer was a desk with a bookshelf over it. On the bookshelf were three large, black looseleaf notebooks. Harlan handed one each to Sheila and Pitt. He cracked open the third himself.

“It’s like a wine list at a fancy restaurant,” Harlan quipped. “Remember, we need something infectious.”

“What do you mean, ‘infectious’?” Pitt asked.

“Capable of being spread from person to person,” Harlan said. “And we need the route to be airborne, not like AIDS or hepatitis. We want a worldwide epidemic.”

“God!” Pitt commented, looking at the index of his volume. “I never thought there were so many different viruses. Here’s filoviridae. Wow! There’s Ebola in there.”

“Too virulent,” Harlan said. “We want an illness that doesn’t kill by itself so that an infected individual can spread it to as many others as possible. The rapidly fatal diseases, believe it or not, tend to be self-limiting.”

“Here’s arenoviridae,” Sheila said.

“Still too virulent,” Harlan said.

“How about orthomyxoviridae?” Pitt said. “Influenza is certainly infectious. And there’s been some worldwide epidemics.”

“That has possibilities,” Harlan admitted. “But it has a relatively long incubation period, and it can be fatal. I’d really like to find something rapidly infectious and a bit more benign. Here we go... This is what I’m looking for.”

Harlan plopped the looseleaf he’d been holding onto the desktop. It was open to page 99. Sheila and Pitt bent over to look at it.

“Picornaviridae,” Pitt read, struggling with the pronunciation. “What do they cause?”

“It’s this genus that I’m interested in,” Harlan said. He pointed to one of the subgroups.

“Rhinovirus,” Pitt read.

“Exactly,” Harlan said. “The common cold. Wouldn’t it be ironic if the common cold were to save mankind?”

“But not everybody gets a cold when it goes around,” Pitt said.

“True,” Harlan said. “Everyone has different levels of immunity to the hundreds of different strains that exist. But let’s see what our microbiologists employed by the Pentagon have come up with.”

Harlan flipped through the pages until he came to the rhinovirus section. It comprised thirty-seven pages. The first page had an index of the serotypes plus a short summary section.

Everyone read the summary silently. It suggested that rhinoviruses had limited utility as biological warfare agents. The reason given was that although the upper respiratory infections would affect the performance of a modern army, it would not be to a significant degree, and certainly not as much as an enterovirus causing diarrheal disease.

“Sounds like they were not so high on rhinoviruses,” Pitt said.

“True,” Harlan said. “But we’re not trying to incapacitate an army. We just want the virus to get in there and stir up metabolic trouble to bring the alien virus out in the open.”

“Here’s something that sounds interesting,” Sheila said, pointing to a subsection in the index. It was artifical rhinoviruses.

“That’s what we need,” Harlan said enthusiastically. He flipped through the pages until he came to the section. He read rapidly. Pitt tried to do the same, but the text might as well have been inscribed in Sanskrit. It was all highly technical jargon.

“This is perfect! Absolutely perfect!” Harlan said. He looked at Sheila. “It’s tailor-made, both literally and figuratively. They’ve put together a rhinovirus that has never seen the light of day, meaning no one has any immunity to it. It’s a serotype that no one has ever been exposed to so everybody will catch it. It’s... made to order!”

“Seems to me we’re making a rather large leap of faith here,” Sheila said. “Don’t you think we should somehow test this hypothesis?”

“Absolutely,” Harlan said with great excitment. He reached over and put his hand on the latch to the freezer door. “I’ll get a sample of the virus for us to grow out. Then we’ll test it on those mice that I had infected. Boy, am I glad I did that.” Harlan opened the freezer and disappeared inside.

Pitt looked at Sheila. “Do you think it will work?” he asked.

Sheila shrugged. “He seems pretty optimistic,” she said.

“If it does work, will it kill the person?” Pitt asked. He was thinking about Cassy and even Beau.

“There’s no way to know,” Sheila said. “For as much as we know, at this point we’re stumbling around in the dark.”

“Hold up!” Vince said. He had the binoculars pressed against his eyes. “I think I see some tracks leading off toward the south.”

“Where?” Beau asked.

Vince pointed.

Beau nodded. “Take us down to the ground,” he told the pilot.

The pilot set the helicopter down on the tarmac. Still, a tremendous amount of sand and dust swirled up into the air.

“I hope all this dirt doesn’t cover the tracks,” Vince said.

“We’re far enough away,” the pilot said. He turned off the engine and the rotors came to a halt. Vince and the policeman sitting next to him, named Robert Sherman, immediately got out and jogged up the road to where the tracks were. Beau and the pilot climbed out of the cab as well, but they stayed next to the copter.

Beau was breathing heavily through his mouth with his tongue hanging out like a panting dog. The alien skin was not equipped with sweat glands, and he was beginning to overheat. He looked around for shade, but there was no escape from the merciless sun.

“I want to get back into the chopper,” Beau said.

“It’ll be too hot in there,” the pilot said.

“I want you to start the engine,” Beau said.

“But that will make it difficult for the others to return,” the pilot said.

“The engine will be started!” Beau growled.

The pilot nodded and did as he was told. The air conditioning came on and quickly lowered the temperature.

Outside the slowly rotating blades kicked up a miniature sandstorm. They could barely see the two men a hundred yards ahead as they bent over to examine the ground.

The radio activated and the pilot slipped on his headset. Beau glanced off at the featureless horizon to the south. Along with his anger he was feeling progressively anxious. He hated these human emotions.

“It’s a message from the institute,” the pilot told Beau. “There’s a problem. They cannot go to full power on the electrical grids. The system trips the circuit breakers.”

Beau’s long snakelike fingers intertwined to form tight, knotlike fists. His pulse quickened. His head pounded.

“What should I tell them?” the pilot asked.

“Tell them I’ll be back soon,” Beau said.

After signing off, the pilot removed his headphones. He was experiencing a trace of Beau’s mental state via the collective consciousness, and he fidgeted in his seat. He was relieved when he saw the others returning.

Vince and Robert had to cover their faces against the stinging sand as they ducked under the rotating blades to climb into the copter. They didn’t try to talk until the door was closed.

“It’s the same tracks that were at the old gas station,” he said. “They head south. What do you want to do?”

“Follow them!” Beau said.

With great difficulty Harlan, Sheila, Pitt, and Jonathan had managed to get six of the infected mice into a type III biological safety cabinet.

“It’s a good thing they weren’t rats,” Pitt said. “If they had been any larger than mice, I don’t think we could have handled them.”

Harlan was letting Sheila put disinfectant and bandages on several of the bites he’d gotten. “I knew they were going to be trouble,” he said.

“What are we going to do now?” Jonathan asked. He’d become intrigued by the experiment.

“We’re going to introduce the virus,” Harlan said. “It’s in that tissue culture flask that’s already inside the hood.”

“Where does this cabinet vent?” Sheila asked. “We don’t want this virus getting out if it’s not going to work.”

“The exhaust is irradiated,” Harlan said. “No worry there.”

Harlan stuck his bandaged hands into the thick rubber gloves that penetrated the front of the cabinet. He grasped the tissue culture flask, pulled out the stopper, and poured the medium out in a flat dish. “There,” he said. “That will vaporize rapidly, and then our little furry friends will be breathing in the artificial virus.”

“What are the black dots on the back of each mouse?” Jonathan asked.

“Each dot represents how many days ago the mouse was infected,” Harlan said. “I was infecting them sequentially so that I could follow the infestation process physiologically. Now I’m glad I did it. There might be a different reaction depending on how much the enabled virus had expressed itself.”

For a few minutes all four people stood in front of the cabinet and watched the mice race around the cage.

“Nothing is happening,” Jonathan complained.

“Nothing on the level of the entire organism,” Harlan said. “But my intuition tells me a lot is happening on a molecular/cellular level.”

A few minutes later Jonathan yawned. “Wow,” he said. “This is like watching paint dry. I’m going back to the computer.”

A few minutes later Pitt broke the silence. “What is interesting is how they are seemingly working together. Look how they are forming a pyramid to explore up the glass.”

Sheila grunted. She’d seen the phenomenon but wasn’t interested. She wanted to see something physical happen to the mice. Since their level of activity hadn’t changed, she was beginning to feel progressively nervous. If this experiment didn’t work, they’d be back to square one.

As if reading Sheila’s thoughts, Harlan said: “We shouldn’t have long to wait. My guess is that it will only take the induction of one cell to initiate a cascade. My only worry is that we didn’t test the viability of the virus. Maybe we should do that.”

Harlan turned away to do what he’d suggested when Sheila grabbed his arm. “Wait!” she cried. “Look at that mouse with the three dots.”

Harlan followed Sheila’s pointing finger. Pitt crowded in behind, looking over Harlan’s shoulder. The mouse in question had suddenly stopped its incessant rapid wandering around the cage to sit back on its haunches and repeatedly wipe its eyes with its front paws. Then it jerked a few times.

The three observers exchanged glances.

“Are those mouse sneezes?” Sheila asked.

“Damned if I know,” Harlan said.

The mouse then swayed and toppled over.

“Is it dead?” Pitt asked.

“No,” Sheila said. “It’s still plainly breathing, but it doesn’t look so good. Look at that foamlike stuff coming out of its eyes.”

“And mouth,” Harlan said. “And there’s another mouse starting to have symptoms. I think it is working!”

“They are all having symptoms,” Pitt said. “Look at that one with the most dots. It looks like it is having a seizure.”

Hearing the commotion Jonathan returned and managed to squeeze his head between the others. He caught a quick glance at the ailing mice. “Ugh,” he said. “The foam has a greenish tinge.”

Harlan put his hands back into the gloves and picked up the first mouse. In contrast to its earlier belligerent behavior, it did not resist. It lay calmly in the palm of his hand breathing shallowly. Harlan put the animal down and reached for the one that had had the seizure.

“This one is dead,” Harlan said. “Since it had been infected for the longest time, I guess that’s telling us something.”

“It’s probably telling us how the dinosaurs died,” Sheila said. “It was certainly rapid.”

Harlan put the dead animal down and withdrew his hands. He rubbed them together enthusiastically. “Well, the first part of this experiment has gone very nicely, I’d say. Now that the animal trials are over, I think it’s time for the human trials to begin.”

“You mean release the virus?” Sheila said. “Like open the door and throw it out.”

“No, we’re not yet ready for clinical fieldwork,” Harlan said with a twinkle in his eye. “I was thinking about the next stage being more close to home. I was thinking about me being the experimental subject.”

“Now wait... ” Sheila protested.

Harlan held up his hand. “There’s a long history of famous medical people using themselves as the proverbial guinea pigs,” he said. “This is a perfect opportunity to follow suit. I’ve been infected, and even though it has been a number of days, I’ve kept the infestation to a minimum by the monoclonal antibody. It’s now time for me to rid myself of the virus altogether. So rather than thinking of myself as a sacrificial lamb, I think of myself as a beneficiary of our collective wit.”

“How do you propose to do this?” Sheila asked. It was one thing to experiment with mice, quite another with a fellow human being.

“Come on,” Harlan said. He grabbed one of the tissue cultures inoculated with the artificial rhinovirus and headed for the sick bay. “We’ll do this the same way we did it with the mice. The difference is that you’ll lock me into one of the containment rooms.”

“Maybe we should use another animal first,” Sheila said.

“Nonsense,” Harlan said. “It’s not as if we have the luxury of a lot of time. Remember that Gateway situation.”

Everyone trooped after Harlan, who was obviously intent on using himself as an experimental subject. Sheila tried to talk him out of it all the way to the containment room. Harlan was not to be deterred.

“Just promise me you’ll lock the door,” Harlan said. “If something really weird were to happen, I don’t want to jeopardize all of you.”

“What if you need medical attention?” Sheila said. “Like, God forbid, CPR.”

“That’s a chance I have to take,” Harlan said fatalistically. “Now get, so I can catch my cold in peace.”

Sheila hesitated for a moment while trying to think of some other way to talk Harlan out of what she thought was a premature folly. Finally she stepped back through the air lock hatch and dogged it closed. She looked through the glass as Harlan gave her a thumbs-up sign.

Admiring Harlan’s courage Sheila returned the gesture.

“What’s he doing?” Pitt asked from the hallway. The air lock was only big enough for one person.

“He’s taking the stopper out of the tissue culture flask,” Sheila said.

“I’m going back to the computer,” Jonathan said. The tension was making him feel uncomfortable.

Pitt stepped into the neighboring air lock and looked through the porthole at Cassy. She was still sleeping peacefully.

Pitt returned to the air lock occupied by Sheila. “Anything happening?”

“Not yet,” Sheila said. “He’s just lying down making faces at me. He’s acting like he’s twelve years old.”

Pitt wondered how he’d behave if the situation were reversed, and he was the one in the room. He thought he’d be terrified and unable to joke around like Harlan.

“Wait a second!” Vince said excitedly. “Turn around so I can see where we just passed over.”

The pilot banked the copter to the left in a wide circle.

Vince snapped the binoculars to his eyes. The terrain below looked as featureless as it had looked for the previous hour. It had turned out to be extraordinarily difficult to follow the tire tracks from the air, and they’d taken many wrong turns.

“There’s something down there,” Vince said.

“What is it?” Beau growled. His mood had darkened. What he’d thought was going to be a simple matter of plucking Cassy out of the desert, was turning into a fiasco.

“I can’t tell,” Vince said. “But it is worth taking a look at. I’d recommend we go down.”

“Land!” Beau snarled.

The helicopter settled down in the middle of its own sandstorm. It was worse than earlier, without the tarmac. As the air cleared everyone immediately saw what had attracted Vince’s attention. It was a van with a camouflage cover partially blown off by the wind generated by the rotor blades.

“Finally something positive,” Beau snapped as he alighted from the helicopter. He strode over to the van. Grasping the tarp he ripped it off. He opened the front passenger-side door.

“She was in here,” he said. He looked in the back of the van, then turned to survey the area.

“Beau, there’s another communication from the institute,” the pilot called out. He’d remained next to the helicopter. “They want you to know that they’d received word that the Arrival is expected in five Earth hours from now. And they want to remind you that the Gateway is not ready. What should I tell them?”

Beau gripped his head with his long fingers and pressed his temples in an attempt to relieve his tension. He breathed out slowly. Ignoring the pilot he yelled to Vince that Cassy was nearby. “I can sense it,” Beau added. “But it is strangely weak.”

Vince and Robert had wandered away from the van in ever widening circles. Suddenly Vince had stopped and bent down. Straightening up he called for Beau to come over.

Beau joined the two men.

Vince pointed to the ground. “It’s a camouflaged hatch,” he said. “It’s locked from within.”

Beau’s fingers snaked under the edge. Progressively he applied an upward force until the hatch snapped up into the air. Vince and Beau leaned over and peered down at the lighted corridor below. Then their eyes met.

“She’s down there,” Beau said.

“I know,” Vince said.

“Holy shit!” Jonathan cried. His eyes bulged from their sockets. Then he screamed at the top of his lungs: “Pitt, Sheila, somebody, get over here!”

Pitt slammed down a syringe of antibody he’d been preparing for Cassy and dashed out of the sick bay into the hall en route to the lab where Jonathan was. Pitt had no idea what had happened but there’d been desperation in Jonathan’s voice. Pitt heard Sheila running behind him.

They found Jonathan sitting at the computer. His eyes were glued to the monitor, and his face was pale as an ivory cue ball.

“What’s the matter?” Pitt demanded as he rushed up to Jonathan.

Jonathan was momentarily tongue-tied. All he could do was motion toward the computer screen. Pitt looked at it and his hand reflexly slapped across his open mouth.

“What is it?” Sheila urged as she arrived at Pitt’s side.

“It’s a freak!” Jonathan managed.

Sheila sucked in a breath of air when she caught sight of what was on the screen.

“It’s Beau!” Pitt said with horror. “Cassy said he’d been mutating, but I had no idea... ”

“Where is he?” Sheila asked, forcing herself to be practical despite Beau’s grotesque appearance.

“It was an alarm that drew my attention,” Jonathan said. “Then the computer automatically activated the appropriate minicam.”

“I want to know where he is,” Sheila repeated frantically.

Jonathan fumbled with the keyboard and managed to bring up a schematic of the facility. A red arrow was blinking at one of the emergency/exhaust vents.

“I think that’s the one where we entered,” Pitt said.

“I think you’re right,” Sheila said. “What does the alarm mean, Jonathan?”

“It says ‘hatch cover unsealed,’” Jonathan said. “I guess that means they’ve got the hatch open.”

“Good God!” Sheila said. “They’ll be coming in.”

“What should we do?” Pitt asked.

Sheila ran an anxious hand through her unfettered blond hair; her green eyes darted erratically around the room. She felt like a cornered deer.

“Pitt, go see if you can lock the door to the air lock,” she sputtered. “That might delay them for a time.”

Pitt dashed from the room.

“Where’s Harlan’s pistol?” Jonathan asked.

“I don’t know,” Sheila snapped. “Look for it, Jonathan.”

Sheila started for the sick bay.

“Where are you going?” Jonathan called out to Sheila.

“I’ve got to get Harlan and Cassy out of those containment rooms,” Sheila said.

“What do you want me to do, Beau?” Vince asked, breaking what had seemed to be a long silence.

“What do you think this place is?” Beau asked, pointing down the hatch at the gleaming, white, high-tech interior.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Vince said.

Beau glanced back at the helicopter. The pilot was dutifully standing by. Beau returned his gaze down the hatch. His mind was in a turmoil and his emotions frayed.

“I want you and your co-worker to go down in this strange hole and find Cassy,” Beau said. He spoke slowly and deliberately as if he were making great effort to restrain himself from flying into a rage. “When you find her, I want you to bring her to me. I must go back to the institute, but I will send the copter back for you.”

“As you wish,” Vince said warily. He was afraid of saying the wrong thing. The fragility of Beau’s emotions was obvious.

Beau reached into his pocket and drew out a black disc. He handed it to Vince. “Use it as you see fit,” he said. “But do not harm Cassy!” Then he turned and strode back to the waiting aircraft.