03 Deluge of the Dead (24 page)

“Most of what he suspected?” Scott prodded.

“Yes,” Bernhard paused again and looked Scott in the eye. “I have proven that this is the same virus he worked on, based on the DNA chains and rate of mutation he described, as well as it’s behavior in human blood. But I don’t have any way to confirm his suspicions about who released it and why they did it.”

“What suspicions?” Scott pressed.

“Milton was convinced that someone in the military had secretly preserved samples of the virus when it was supposed to be destroyed. He said they must have cultured more of it and continued with experiments that everyone else thought were too dangerous. Milton was certain he knew the people behind this. He said he was approached by some of them several years ago, asking for his help in a viral research project. He turned them down, but not before they gave some hints about their motivations.”

“Who were they and what were their motivations?” This was much more than Scott had expected the professor to know, but he had to ask. 

The professor seemed hesitant to continue, but eventually he closed his eyes and said, “You have to understand that Milton was a big picture kind of guy. He was always talking about global problems, everything from climate change and the economic crisis to limited energy resources and overpopulation. I didn’t always agree with his positions on all of those topics, but he was passionate and quite well informed. He even published some controversial articles in scientific journals. That, combined with his previous experience as an epidemiologist at USAMRID, is probably why he was approached by these people.”

Scott nodded and held his tongue, waiting for the professor to continue. The pause stretched out. Clint was the first to break the silence by saying, “Don’t stop now, Doc. You got me interested too. What did your friend’s ideas on global warming have to do with the zombie apocalypse?”

Professor Bernhard almost laughed before he answered, “Not global warming, Mr. Murdock, but I suppose that plays into it. No, it was probably his views on overpopulation that got their attention. Milton was always talking about how medical science had allowed the human population to skyrocket. He would explain how there were only about twenty-five million human beings on the planet at the dawn of recorded history, say 4,000 years ago. And there were only a couple hundred million people on Earth in the year 1 A.D. It took another eighteen hundred years to reach one billion. Then in a single century, as modern medicine came into play, the global population doubled to two billion. But Milton’s concern was where the trend went from there. Between 1930 and 1960 we added another billion people. We hit four billion in 1975, five billion in the late 1980s, six billion before the millennium, and seven billion last year. The trend was exponential and unsustainable, or at least that’s what Milton would say.”  

Scott just absorbed the information, but Clint asked, “How did the numbers grow so fast?”

“Medical science,” Bernhard replied. “Vaccines against deadly diseases were developed and distributed worldwide. Infant mortality rates fell dramatically. Life expectancy rose. Milton said that we had thrown the natural order out of balance. He was probably right, but I always argued that science had also made it possible for the world to feed and house many more people, and improve their standard of living too. We had more than a few friendly debates on the topic, but Milton had some valid points. If the projections of 10 billion people by 2050 were correct, with no limit to growth in sight, I had to agree that the prospects for long term sustainability were bleak.”

“Not as bleak as a world full of zombies,” Clint said.

“You’re absolutely right,” Dr. Bernhard agreed. “At least in the short term, but the people who contacted Milton last year were also big picture thinkers. Their goal was to cap and reduce global population to sustainable levels. Milton told me they said that since medical science had created the problem of overpopulation, it should also be able to solve it. They suggested the creation of an otherwise harmless virus that would cause male sterility, or female infertility, and releasing it in overpopulated countries. They thought that would eventually reduce the global population drastically, through attrition, as billions of people lived and died without bearing children.”

“Sounds draconian and cruel, even if it didn’t make anyone sick, but that’s not what they decided to do, is it?” Scott observed.

“No, they didn’t,” the professor agreed. “But they considered it long enough for Milton to get interested in the idea and share his thoughts with the group. For him it was an intellectual exercise. As you say, such a virus would not cause harm to any living person, just prevent them from reproducing. However, it was Milton who convinced them not to follow through on that plan.”

Clint said, “It almost sounds like a good idea when you think about the numbers you just mentioned. Why didn’t they do it?”

“Two reasons, according to Milton,” the professor said. “First of all, some of the group thought it would take too long and would give other scientists time to find a cure, or some other way to circumvent sterility. They were also afraid that in the decades it took to have an effect the billions of people already alive would drain too many nonrenewable resources. There was also the matter of danger to the group itself, if the source of the virus was ever disclosed.  They were selfish in that respect, and they wanted to live long enough to see the results of their plan.

“However, the argument that Milton used against the sterility plan was probably the one that swayed them most.” Professor Bernhard looked down at the floor and continued, “He explained the real risk of human extinction. Releasing a contagious virus that produces no outward sign of sickness aside from long-term sterility is insane. It wouldn’t stay contained in the places it was released. Modern air transportation would spread it around the globe and nobody would even know they were infected without a specific test. There wouldn’t be any symptoms, except those infected would never produce offspring. There wouldn’t even be a way to test any vaccine without generations of study. Such a virus is a recipe for an extinction level event.”

“What made these people think a zombie virus was any safer?” Scott asked in confusion.

“Milton blamed himself for that too,” Professor Bernhard admitted. “He mentioned the Super Rabies virus in passing, while he was arguing against the sterility plan, as an example of a virus engineered to have a limited contagious life span. When the group expressed interest in it, he told them that all samples of the Super Rabies virus had been destroyed after the Cold War and that unleashing it was unthinkable, even if it still existed, due to the carnage it would produce. Apparently he was wrong on both counts.” 

“I don’t quite get it,” Clint said. “Why would a zombie apocalypse be any better than making people sterile? This sounds a lot worse to me. Hell, it feels a lot worse to me too.”

“Yes,” Dr. Willard Bernhard almost smiled sadly. “I suppose it would. And I agree with you; this is much worse for everyone exposed to this nightmare. An infertility or sterility virus would have been painless, but far more dangerous in the long run. Now that the airborne and highly contagious form of Super Rabies has morphed into its long term form, it can only be spread by direct contact with blood or body fluids. At least we can easily identify the carriers of Super Rabies and try to avoid them.” He paused again and did actually laugh softly as he looked at Clint, “Except for you, of course, but you might be the key to finding a cure or vaccine.”

“That’s great Professor,” Scott said. “But in case I die in the next few minutes, can you tell me about this ‘
group
’ that contacted your friend Milton? Who were they?”

“Milton called them the Tabula Rasa. It’s Latin for ‘clean slate’ and that seems to describe their goal – to erase most of the world’s population and start again from scratch. This
zombie apocalypse
, as you are all calling it, seems to be their method of choice,” the professor explained as if speaking to a classroom full of college students. “Milton only met a few of them in person. Most of his interaction was through conference calls on a pre-paid smart phone that they provided. He was surprised when they kept calling him after he had expressed his clear opposition to developing a sterility virus, even more surprised when they kept asking questions about Super Rabies. At one point they even offered him a job with a high six figure salary, if he would agree to relocate and work in a Level 4 bio hazard lab. That’s when he realized they were committed to more than academic discussions on reducing overpopulation.”

Scott looked at the professor with surprised interest and asked, “Did the Tabula Rasa say where they wanted him to relocate? Some idea of where their lab was located?”

“Nothing precise,” said the professor. “They actually gave him a choice of two different facilities, one in the Caribbean and the other in the Pacific Northwest. He said they didn’t get any more specific than that before he turned them down flat and threw the cell phone into the ocean. In the end I think Milton thought that was his biggest mistake. One of the last things he told me before the virus consumed his mind was he should have turned the phone over to the FBI and told them everything he knew.”

“No shit,” said Clint. “Why didn’t he?”

“We’ll never know,” the professor admitted sadly. “I got the feeling that Milton and his family would be in danger if he ever betrayed their secrets. All he told me was that he was a coward and deserved to get bitten.”

“And you’ve shared all of this information with the CDC and DHS?” Scott asked.

“Yes, of course I have,” replied Bernhard. “With what’s left of them. Things aren’t going very well in Atlanta.”

“What have you heard?” Scott asked.

“Probably the same as you have,” the professor said. “The city is overrun. The CDC headquarters is barricaded and isolated. When I emailed them this morning they replied with a notification that they were moving some key personnel by helicopter to a ship anchored near Saint George Island in the Gulf of Mexico and another team to the Lake Lanier Islands, north of Atlanta.”

 “At least they’re smart enough to be heading for ships and islands,” Clint said.

“Does that mean the CDC headquarters in Atlanta will be abandoned?” Scott asked. He had been too busy to communicate with Atlanta in the past 48 hours, so this came as news to him.

“No,” Bernhard replied. “I don’t think so. The labs there at too critical, but they realize that they can’t afford to keep all of their scientists in one facility surrounded by the infected. A single security failure could wipe them out. I think they want to spread out their resources. They also have a secure CDC lab in Vermont, and of course the Army’s USAMRID facility in Maryland is still operating at Fort Detrick.”

“That’s good,” Scott agreed. “It’s not wise to keep all your eggs in one basket. Have they found out anything more about this Tabula Rasa group? Or how they got their hands on the Super Rabies virus?”

“Not much,” Bernhard shook his head. “I told them everything that I just told you, along with sending them all of my research results, but I haven’t received much feedback, except to confirm that CDC agrees it is the same virus developed by USAMRID during the Cold War. I’m sure they are following up on the Tabula Rasa lead, but resources are very limited now and I’m sure the perpetrators have covered their tracks.  

“However,” the professor smiled. “They are very excited about Clint’s condition. I didn’t consult them about this transfusion for fear they would try to veto my decision. I owe you my life, Commodore, and if I can save yours, I will. If you both survive this and prove to be immune to the virus it will be a major breakthrough. The CDC will be ecstatic if this works.”

“So will I, Professor,” said Scott with a grin. The conversation had been so amazing that he had forgotten all about the transfusion and, in doing so, realized that he was feeling fine.  Maybe this was working after all. He was about to say as much when the phone mounted on the wall rang and the professor went to answer it. After a brief and muffled conversation he turned back to Scott.

“It seems you have visitors, Commodore,” Bernhard said. “Your helicopter has returned and the FBI helicopter is approaching the port. They are all asking to see you, but I’m afraid that will have to wait until we complete this procedure. Perhaps you can speak to them by telephone when they are ready.”

*****

Carl was saddened, if not shocked, by the carnage he saw in the streets of El Segundo. He drove up to the water tower on the same street he had escaped down in the golf cart. No zombies roamed the street this time, but the scattering of bodies and red tinge to the runoff in the gutters told its own tale of horror. Carl could see that things had gotten even worse here after his escape to the refinery.  One apartment building that had been surrounded by zombies when he zipped by on the golf cart was now full of zombies sheltering from the rain. He saw them crowding up to the broken glass of the front door, attracted to the sound of the vehicles, but deterred from coming out into the downpour. He slowed and looked for any sign of survivors in the windows of the apartments, honking his horn repeatedly to attract attention, but saw no sign of life.

It was the same story in the next block. Zombies huddled under covered porches, or growled from open doors and windows, but they feared to venture out into the rain. The would-be rescuers didn’t see any survivors here either. What they did see was refuse and debris strewn across the street and front yards. As they passed the water tower at the crest of the hill Carl also noticed the bodies of the zombies he had killed, still laying where they had fallen and beginning to rot away. At least they hadn’t gotten up and walked away. He took that as a good sign.

He led the way down the other side of the hill towards Main Street. It was a mess, so Carl instructed the other vehicles following him to spread out and drive down the parallel and side streets in search of survivors. Then he drove the Suburban down Main Street. No zombies in sight, but plenty of evidence that they had been there. There were lots of wrecked vehicles and the street was cluttered with bodies, as well as body parts. It was impossible to avoid running over some of them. Carl had grown accustomed to the crunch and bump of running over bodies, but one of them was different. When he drove over the legs of that body he heard it scream. It wasn’t the moan or growl of a zombie either. This was the high pitched scream of a woman.