Altered Genes: Genesis (13 page)

He walked to the small table in front of the video camera and put the marker down.

“I’m going to propose we form a single team—focus our collective efforts on prevention, both labs—the USA and UK.”

“It will never fly,” Gore said wearily. “It’s already been proposed and the higher-ups vetoed it.”

“Vetoed—by who?”

“Holly and Mayer made a joint-pitch to the steering committee but they said no.”

He hadn’t met Mayer’s counterpart in the UK, Dr. Jonathan Holly, but Gore’s tone made it obvious he didn’t think too much of him.

“I offered to go to the meeting but Holly’s a bit of a prat, he’s not interested in anything from the likes of me,” Gore spat. “Spends his days in meetings doing god knows what. Thankfully, I see less of him now than I did at the institute.”

“But why was the proposal rejected?’

“Committee didn’t want us putting all our eggs in one basket is what Holly said they told him.”

“That’s idiotic. All we’re doing is diluting our efforts.”

He picked up the marker and stomped back to the whiteboard where he drew a series of circles around the two words and spoke firmly. “This is our only option.”

“Don’t disagree with you, Tony.” Gore fought to hold back a yawn. The dark circles under his eyes extended down to the top of his cheekbones.

“You look like crap, Edward. When was the last time you slept?”

“About thirty-six hours ago…time enough to sleep when I’m dead,” the Brit answered with false bravado.

“Get something to eat, have a nap,” Simmons said as he picked up the remote. “I should get back to work. I’ll update you if I learn anything.”

“Cheers, Tony. Talk to you later.”

S
immons raised
the white styrofoam cup to his lips. The coffee was piping hot. He took a small sip and nearly gagged.
It tastes like goat piss. Not that he knew what goat piss tasted like
.
Regardless, he needed the caffeine, he’d been in the lab until late the night before.

He precariously balanced the styrofoam cup on the small white pull-up armrest that doubled as a tabletop. The seats in the auditorium were cramped. It was all he could do to not bang his knees against the tabletop.
God help me if that coffee ends up in my lap.

At 07:00 a.m. sharp, Colonel Young coughed a couple of times and then spoke in a booming voice.

“Let’s get started. Thank you all for coming. I know for some of you this is a little earlier than you’re used to but I don’t need to tell anyone that time is of the essence.”

He waited a few seconds for the murmurs to die down and introduced the first speaker, a Director from the Department of Commerce. She rose from her seat and made her way to the podium.

Notwithstanding the gravity of the subject matter, her presentation was mind-numbingly boring. Simmons half-listened while she droned on about the ratio of actual to expected deaths and the impact on the country's GDP.

She flipped a slide onto the screen behind her as she finished up. “Our best guess right now is the pandemic, if it continues to expand at its current growth rate, will cut global GDP to a level last seen in the 1930’s—and it will happen in a matter of months.”

Eighty-five years of progress gone in just a few months. It was unbelievable.

"Thank you, Ms. Dorsey," Colonel Young said. He moved his finger down a list of names on a piece of paper. "Next, Dr. Murray Black from the CDC.”

A short balding man with black-rimmed glasses thanked Colonel Young and stepped onto the podium. He was nervous and spoke quickly as he gestured awkwardly at the image on the large projection screen.

”There it is...Clostridium difficile, also known a C. diff, an anaerobic gram-positive bacteria. The strain we’re dealing with is a nasty little creature capable of producing A and B toxins in addition to a unique binary toxin. The binary toxin alters the structure of the cells that line the intestine, allowing the AB toxins to destroy them.”

He flipped to his next slide. “Many of the worst epidemics—Spanish flu, Ebola, HIV—have been caused by microbes that are spread through the air or bodily fluids, but Clostridium difficile isn’t like that. When it’s stressed it creates tiny spores that are shed in the fecal matter of an infected person. To become infected, you have to ingest the spores."

Groans of disgust sounded from the audience and he paused, confused by the reaction. “It sounds repulsive, but you’ve misunderstood. It isn't the actual fecal matter that needs to be ingested, just the spores. They’re approximately one one-hundredth the width of a human hair—Imagine tiny pieces of rice only much smaller…and everywhere.

His next slide appeared on the screen and he reached into his pocket to retrieve a small plastic bottle of hand sanitizer. He waved it in the air to show the audience and then dropped it. The bottle hit the floor and bounced.

"Utterly useless," he said dramatically. “The spores are resistant to alcohol. Bleach is the best way to kill them, but soap and water will do in a pinch. They’re hardy and can survive for months on a hard surface like a door or counter-top.”

He toggled to a slide titled “Treatment Options.” It was blank aside from a large question mark.

“Unfortunately, we don’t know how to treat this particular strain of C. diff. It’s highly resistant to antibiotics—perhaps completely resistant.” He looked to Simmons who nodded in agreement. “In some cases, we can knock it down, but we can’t seem to eliminate it completely.”

“What about a vaccine?” the actuary who had presented earlier asked.

He motioned to Dr. Mayer, who sat alone at the top of the auditorium. “There is a team working on immunization approaches, but it’s too early to predict the level of success.”

Simmons raised his hand. “How about FMT? I’ve heard the FDA made it excessively onerous for the hospitals to use.”

Black looked at him. “Happily the FDA has changed their ways, but I’m afraid it’s a little bit like throwing a wet blanket on a forest fire at this stage. Even if we were able to screen tens of thousands of donors to ensure they weren’t already carrying the bacteria, there’s no guarantee that re-populating the gut’s flora through a fecal transplant would be effective. This strain is exceptionally competitive, recurrence is high. It hasn’t worked on any of the patient’s we’ve tested.”

Simmons slumped back in his seat.
That isn’t good news, I wonder if Mei knows about it.

When there were no further questions, Black flipped to his final slide. “We’re still refining the model, but the impact of this pandemic could equal that of the bubonic plague in the fourteenth century. Back then, about twenty percent of the world's population died in four years.“

The audience grew louder. They were doing the math and for the handful that didn’t, he did it for them.

He spoke over the crowd. “According to our most current model, two billion people will die from this pandemic if we aren’t able to stop it.”

The room went silent. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of it. One hundred pairs of eyes stared at Black and he stood frozen, twitching like a nervous rabbit as he debated whether to say anything further.

Colonel Young broke the silence. “Thank you, Dr. Black. Next, Director Lexington from Homeland Security will be our final speaker for today.”

The Director, a sharp-looking woman made her way to the podium. There was an edge to her and something familiar. Simmons racked his brain trying to remember where he had seen her before.

“Good morning,” she said with a politician's smile that quickly turned serious.

“As most of you know, we are now at what has been officially designated as day seven of the outbreak. The overwhelming majority of cases have occurred in the United Kingdom, USA and India but as of this morning, the bacteria has been found in sixty-three countries. We estimate that six hundred thousand people have been exposed. Although the number of deaths is still relatively low, we expect it to grow very quickly in the coming weeks.”

“What about Asia?” Colonel Young asked.

Simmons wondered if that was code for North Korea. He also wondered if everyone in the room knew the Koreans were the source of the bacteria.

She nodded slowly. “China has the least number of cases. Surprisingly, they were one of the first countries to close their borders—day three by our count, well before the pandemic had even been acknowledged.” She didn’t draw any conclusion for the audience, they could draw their own.

The Chinese knew in advance.

“But they are reporting death counts to the UN,” she added, “so they are clearly in the same boat as the rest of the world.”

“Unless they’re lying.” The words were shouted from the back of the auditorium.

Simmons turned. It was John Raine. Just seeing him soured his mood.

“I’m not saying they’re responsible, Raine muttered “We all know it was North Korea but they may have helped them.”

Raine sat down and Simmons thought about it.
It was conceivable that China would have the expertise to pull this off—maybe—but why would they help the North Koreans do something like this? It made no sense.

“That could be,” Lexington said, agreeing with Raine, “but we know the death counts out of China are real. Before our ambassador was recalled, she was given information by the Chinese government—information that was most assuredly intended to illustrate that China was not immune.

“They also asked if we would be open to sharing research. That’s a first and their request is being considered by the President. That said, his enthusiasm was tempered by the capture of three Chinese nationals who were discovered yesterday trying to cross the border from Mexico. I’m not in a position to discuss the details but there were indications the men weren’t run-of-the-mill illegals.”

She took a brief sip of water from a glass on the podium and continued. “While I am on the topic of borders, this morning the President signed an executive order authorizing the closure of all land, sea and air borders as of noon today—that’s five hours from now.”

It’s too late,
Simmons thought.
You quarantine to keep things out or to keep them in. The bacteria is already in the United States. It’s nothing more than a political statement to appease the public, give them a false sense of security.

“The border closures will be supported by soldiers from National Guard units that have been federalized,” she explained. “Twenty thousand have been called up to guard our southern border and another fifteen thousand will be called up to do the same in the north.

“I should also add, that our borders aren’t the only challenge. We are starting to see significant traffic issues in a number of cities as residents exit the urban areas.

“The most affected are Washington, Los Angeles, San Francisco and New York. At this point, it isn’t much worse than a typical bad traffic day but it lasts all day long and is beginning to concern our logistics experts. It will make it difficult to move troops and supplies.”

“Where are people going?” Colonel Young asked.

“Anywhere they can. There are rumors circulating on social media that the bacteria spreads by physical contact, in the air—all sorts of crazy things. People are beginning to panic and they’re doing one of two things, sheltering in place or leaving.”

“Can you shut it down?”

“Social media? Yes, we have the means. We’ve also executed a very brief trial shutdown of the mobile networks and the internet to test our capabilities in those areas.”

She placed her hands on the podium, surveyed the audience and took a deep breath. Her voice was somber as she spoke. “My final update for today is perhaps the hardest one. The following institutions have been quarantined and unfortunately, more institutions are being added to the list every day.”

Abbott Northwestern Hospital

Albany Medical Center

Baptist Health Medical Center

Bellevue Hospital Center

That’s Mei’s hospital.

“What does that mean?” he shouted as his heart raced.

“Pardon?” It took her a second to locate him in the audience. She cocked her head, confused by his question.

He took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “What does quarantine mean?”

Still not understanding his question, she began to explain. “A quarantine is when you isolate a—

“I know what a quarantine is,” he said angrily. “What does it mean for these institutions?”

She bristled at his tone and answered in a slightly haughty voice. “No new patients, no entry or exit to the facilities. A safety perimeter around each institution manned by soldiers from the National Guard. Things like that.”

He remembered the Ebola outbreak in Liberia the year before.

“What happens if someone tries to leave the hospital?”

She froze and the auditorium went silent. “The soldiers have orders to stop them,” she answered stiffly.

“How?”

“Using any necessary means.”

“Including shoot to kill?”

“Yes.”

“Has that occurred yet?”

“No”

It was only a matter of time. A scared soldier and a desperate doctor or nurse or patient was all it would take.

“Are the people in those hospitals being left to fend for themselves?”

“No, of course not,” she said indignantly. “To the extent we are able, we will continue to provide supplies to the institutions that are under quarantine.”

To the extent that we are able.
He was about to ask what that meant when Colonel Young interjected. “Thank you, Director Lexington. Is there anything else?”

She shook her head and the room erupted in nervous chatter.

Simmons sat by himself, worried about Mei. He watched as the audience trickled out of the auditorium. He couldn’t even talk to her, all communications on and off the base had been restricted.

"Hello, Tony. Did you get the vaccine data?"

He jumped in his seat and turned to see Dr. Mayer behind him. “Jesus— you scared me. Yes…I’m going to look at it today while I’m in the lab. I’m heading there in a few minutes.”

“Good. Let me know if you have any questions.”

She turned to leave and he spoke quickly. “I do have one. It’s somewhat related? Why aren’t both teams focused on vaccine development. Edward Gore told me the idea had been veto’d by some committee—why?”

She frowned and motioned at Lexington, who was about to leave the auditorium. “Go ask her, she can tell you all about it.”

H
e caught
up to the Director from Homeland Security as she was about to leave the building.

“Director Lexington…”

She turned at the sound of her name and watched him jog towards her.

“Yes—“ she said in a guarded tone.