ARES Virus: Arctic Storm (31 page)

“Restrained? Is that really necessary?” Karkis queries.

“Unfortunately, it is. Our protocols have drastically changed since Pineville. I’m sorry if that causes any undue worry. But, as I was saying, due to the nature of the outbreak, the CDC is taking over the cases and treatment, and we have more people arriving shortly. If more cases show up, we may need to ask for additional space in order to keep the patients under quarantine. I’ve also been advised to ask you to keep this out of the press for the time being, due to the sensitivity of the populace toward viruses. I hate to say this, but your hospital is ground zero for this. Just so you know, we will be testing local area chickens for any indication that they are carriers,” Skier continues.

“So much for not becoming a pain in the ass,” Karkis mutters.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Skier responds.

“So, what can we do to help?” Karkis asks.

“At the moment, we’ll just continue with what we’re doing until our personnel arrive this afternoon. Once our teams arrive, we’ll be the only ones with access to the isolation ward. The patients currently in there will have to remain, but if you admit any other infectious patients, they’ll have to be put elsewhere. I’m sure you are aware that this highly pathogenic virus has a high fatality rate when it presents in humans; up to one hundred percent within forty-eight hours, so I just want for you to be prepared for that possibility. We need to limit contact and follow procedures to the letter to ensure that we don’t infect your staff,” Skier says.

“If you’ll let me know how many you’re bringing in, I’ll arrange for space. It may not resemble anything close to five-star accommodations, but it will have walls. That’s about all that I can guarantee,” Karkis states.

“Anything will be appreciated,” Skier responds, rising.

“Doctor Mosely, I’m sure you know that keeping this out of the press will be next to impossible,” Karkis says.

“I know. I’m just asking that you and your staff don’t talk to the press or issue any statements. If the press does get wind, then pass their inquiries along to me. And, please mention to them that they’re not to share this with their family or friends. We’d like to keep panic from spreading.”

“They won’t hear anything from me, and I’ll talk with the staff,” Karkis replies. “Doctor, do you have any idea how long this will last?”

Pausing at the door, Skier looks over his shoulder. “A(H5N1) usually has an incubation period ranging anywhere from two to eight days. But, there have been cases where it has run seventeen days. We don’t really have a lot of data on human infections, as they’re rare. The infection usually runs forty-eight hours or so, and I’ve mentioned the usual outcome.”

During the morning and early afternoon, specialists from USAMRIID begin arriving, along with contractors specializing in security and black ops, although disguised as medical personnel. The transition of care of those infected from hospital staff to those incoming is slow, but steady. In addition, others who had shown flu symptoms in the outlying medical offices are brought in and tested; those testing positive are put in quarantine and the others released. In all, only three additional cases are admitted.

Sitting in his small cubicle, Skier lays his head on the desk. It’s his first chance to rest today, wanting to be on hand to oversee the transition. Walking the line of maintaining his credentials, keeping the press from getting wind of the outbreak, locating chicken farms and other patients, all the while trying to keep everything secret has been tiring. He feels a little better about the situation for the first time since finding out that they are, in fact, dealing with an ARES strain. As far as he can tell, they have the situation contained.

The cell phone lying on the table by his ear rings. Without looking at the ID, he knows who is calling.

“Major Skier,” he answers.

“Major, Koenig here, and we’re secure.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Before I get into the news on my side, how is the situation there?” Koenig asks.

“Sir. We have a total of twenty patients in quarantine, all testing positive for ARES. They’re being monitored. The transition to our personnel is nearly complete and should be finished by the end of the day. As far as we know at the moment, we have all of the reported cases under quarantine and I haven’t heard a buzz from any press. Three local chicken farms have been located and we’re in the process of exterminating the flocks there. We had them sign non-disclosure agreements, so I’m relatively sure that we have their silence for the time being. We won’t be able to keep this under wraps forever, though. But, for the moment, our cover story is complete until we decide to release it, which I recommend doing soon. I’m not going to go out on a limb and state that we have containment, but what we do have is contained,” Skier briefs. “I will add that I haven’t been able to track down our carrier—or carriers—as yet, but we’re still working on it.”

“Very well. Our initial testing here shows that you were correct in guessing that the mutated strain went airborne. The contagion rate is hovering around eighty-three percent, but that number isn’t firm. With that rate and with a carrier still out there, I don’t have to tell you the potential for this. Keep working on that end. Aside from the airborne nature, we’ve also found that this mutation is still just as virulent as the original when transmitted via saliva. We’re working on the how and why, but that may take some time. Your move to restrain those infected was the right move. From the looks of it, any airborne contact has an incubation period of approximately three weeks. What we’re not sure of is whether the actual infection will terminate after a period of time or if it’s permanent,” Koenig states.

“And if someone escaped containment on our drops overseas?” Skier questions.

“Exactly. I’ll be making a call higher up later tonight after we have completed the turnover there. I should have more information shortly,” Koenig says.

“Sir, is there any indication whether or not ARES manifests itself with its original potency in the airborne mutation?”

“We haven’t found anything out as yet either way. Good job with the containment so far, and find that carrier or we could be dealing with this forever.”

“Yes, sir.”

*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*

Nurse Farris checks the drip rate on the IV. She’s been working with infectious diseases for a few years. They don’t really worry her much as long as she takes the time to ensure protective measures. She knows some of the others working the ward grow complacent from time to time, but she takes care before entering each and every room. The extra money she earns from working the ward is nice and she doesn’t intend to spend what she’s saved being sick. Work hard, be careful, and retire early. That’s her motto.

With the recent outbreak, and with other patients being brought in from outlying offices, the ward is close to being full. She doesn’t mind—it makes the day pass more quickly, but it does keep her constantly on her feet. Even more so lately, as the patients have taken a turn for the worse.

She also doesn’t mind spending more hours on the ward. The tall, quiet doctor from the CDC is rather easy on the eyes. They haven’t spoken much since his arrival, but her mind has wandered whenever they’ve come into contact. He’s one of those quiet, mysterious types whom she’s drawn to. On several occasions, she’s let it be known by her tone and body language that she would be receptive to a date. And each time, he just stared at her as if she were speaking a different language. She hasn’t observed a ring, so the thought that he might be gay has crossed her mind.

It’s worked every time
, she thinks, leaning over a restrained patient to adjust the bedding.
Oh well, maybe I’ll just ask outright once the CDC has taken over the ward
.

The quick movement of the patient startles her, as does the intense, sudden pain flaring near her left ear. She hears a low growl and feels teeth as they clench down, tearing through her mask and into her skin. With a scream of surprise and pain, she pulls away, feeling her skin rip. Her hand flies to her face, both in an attempt to keep her mask in place and to cover the now bleeding wound. The man on the bed below struggles against the restraints, trying to tear free. Drool drips from the side of his mouth, mixing with her blood as he emits low growls.

Adrenaline and fear flow through her body, her heart pounding in her chest. She staggers back and turns for the door, wanting to get to the clean room, not quite believing that she allowed her mind to wander from her task. After all of her precautions, she grew careless. She has to sterilize her wound as quickly as possible.

Her veins feel like liquid fire as she staggers into the clean room. Ignoring the pain as best she can, she reaches for the alcohol, splashing it on her wound. The burning sensation is nothing compared to what she feels inside. She drops the bottle, filling the room with the smell of isopropyl. Grabbing a clean towel, she reaches for the door handle, not bothering to take off her gown, booties, or cap. She just wants away…away from the room…away from the agony coursing through her body.

She pulls the door open, barely feeling the rush of cool air. The pain won’t allow any thoughts…there’s only the need to escape. She must get away…get help. Her knees buckle and she falls to the floor, her blonde hair spilling out from beneath her cap. Folding into the fetal position, she attempts to shield herself from the agony. The shiny linoleum floor just under her eyes stretches out in front of her, extending into infinity. She screams…the sound fades from her ears…the world around her grows dim…and darkness folds inward.

Springfield

September 28

Skier stares through the small glass panel embedded in the solid wooden door. Etched into plastic over the double-doored entrance, the words “Isolation Ward” take on more significance, as if issuing a dire warning.

Through the window, he sees the bleeding face of one of the nurses assigned to the ward. Her red-veined eyes stare back at him with a ferocity that he’s rarely witnessed. Feral comes to mind. The drool sliding out of her slack mouth pours down, running in strings off her chin. Even through the thick wooden doors, sealed by the contracted security team at the sound of the first scream, Skier can hear shrieks from others beyond, most of them restrained in their beds.

That’s really too bad. She was rather cute
, Skier thinks, watching the nurse on the other side attempt to claw her way through.

When that fails, she steps back and slams into the door, repeating the process again…and again…and again. The doors shudder under each impact, but hold.

“Who else knows?” Skier asks one of the security team.

“No one. We sealed the area and called you,” comes the response.

“Keep it that way. Tranquilizers only for now, and only on those roaming. You know how to sweep, so I won’t pretend to tell you your job, but I need this ward cleared,” Skier states.

“You got it. Are we cleared to go live just in case they turn out to be superhuman?” the contractor queries.

“I’d prefer not to have bullet holes in the corpses, but yes, if you find that you have to. But, make sure you’re suppressed. We don’t need to advertise what’s going on here.”

“Okay, we’ll be going in…” the contractor begins briefing, turning to the others stationed at the doors.

Skier tunes out the conversation, stepping away from the door and pulling out his phone. As the phone rings, he watches the security personnel ready themselves. His heart is pounding, having witnessed firsthand what the virus is capable of. He has no doubt that the shrieking he heard within is the manifestation of ARES in the other patients.

“Yes, Major,” Koenig says on the other line.

“We need to go secure, sir,” Skier responds.

“Standby,” followed by the click of the line disconnecting.

While waiting for the return call, Skier watches the contractors. Unsealing the door, one swings the door open while two others stand a few paces away. Pfft…Pfft. Two soft sounds of compressed air are barely heard above the increased intensity of screams, sending twin darts into the nurse who charges through the door.

The tranquilizer darts embed themselves, one into the nurse’s shoulder and the other into her neck. They seem to have zero effect as the nurse continues her run, turning slightly to the side as her eyes lock on one of the contractors. Two other contractors have their sidearms aimed at the charging nurse and begin applying pressure on their triggers. The contractors begin backpedaling to stay out of reach. With a scream, the nurse launches herself forward…and falls face first onto the linoleum. Her limbs twitch twice and she lies still.

“Okay, then,” the head contractor states. “I think three will be the magic number.”

“Where do you want sleeping beauty?” he continues, turning to Skier.

“Restrained on one of the empty beds. The same with any others you find. Don’t worry about those already restrained, I’ll sedate those,” Skier answers, as his phone rings.

“We’re secure. What do you have, Skier?” Koenig asks.

“Sir. ARES just manifested in its original form. One nurse appears to have been bitten by a patient, although I have yet to confirm that, and it manifested almost immediately. You can probably hear that the other patients have it as well, although they weren’t bitten. Although I can’t verify anything, it appears that the airborne nature of the virus manifests ARES after a three-week incubation. I’ll be sedating them all, and just so you know, we now have complete staff coverage over the ward. It’s contained. I want to say again that I think we’re looking at an approximate twenty-one day incubation period, plus or minus, followed by a forty-eight hour transition from illness to ARES with regards to the airborne nature of the strain. Again, that’s a rough guess. A direct bite seems to function as originally designed,” Skier briefs.

“You say that it’s contained?” Koenig asks.

“Here, for the moment, yes,” Skier replies.

“Keep it that way. I need to make that call that I’ve been avoiding.”

“Sir,” Skier hesitates. “What should I do with the infected here?”

“Phoenix protocol, Skier…Phoenix protocol.”

“Yes, sir,” Skier responds, hating what comes next.

As he hangs up the phone, he wonders if he’ll be able to live with himself for what’s he’s about to do. With his mind absorbed with the current crisis, he knows that he’ll be fine for now. It’s later, when he has too much free time to think things over, that worries him.

*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*

Koenig’s monitor fills with the now all too familiar faces of the joint chiefs and General Hague.

“Sirs, ma’am. I apologize for this hasty meeting, but I have to ask this one question. How certain are we that no one was able to evade our forces and escape from the Arctic Storm perimeters?” Koenig begins.

“Colonel. We’re as sure as we can be. We had drones and helicopters encircling the drop zones the entire time, from the beginning of the operation to the end. The towns and villages were smaller than Pineville, so it was easier to contain. Why do you ask?” a joint chief questions.

“Well, sir. It appears that we weren’t able to contain Pineville as well as we thought,” Koenig answers, inching toward the situation that he’d rather not discuss. He now understands Skier’s cautious approach to telling bad news.

“Colonel. What do you mean by that?”

“We currently have a small outbreak in a town approximately twenty miles north of Pineville, and the virus has mutated. It seems that we have a carrier of the virus that managed to get through our perimeter in some fashion. We have containment at the moment and are in the process of tracking down the carrier,” Koenig states, and continues to brief the situation.

“How could this have happened? You had a tight perimeter set up, correct?”

The phrasing and terminology aren’t lost on Koenig. He notes the switch from “we” to “you” and suspects that the finger pointing is already beginning. If things go south, he can expect a lot more of “you” and “us” as a wall is built between them.

“Yes, sir. There was a tight cordon set up. And, the chances of anyone getting through it were slim. However, that’s the most reasonable explanation for what we’re seeing in Springfield. There’s no chance that the virus spread on its own outside of Pineville, so we have to go with the assumption that at least one carrier was infected and made their way north. The outbreak appears localized, so we’re reasonably sure we can find them in short order. So, you can see the concern related to Arctic Storm. If a carrier were able to get through our lines and into the populated areas of the Middle East, Europe, or Asia…” Koenig says, letting the end trail off.

“We see where you’re leading. And…Springfield, you say? What about the situation there…and the press?”

“I briefed our people there that the Phoenix protocol is still in effect, and so far the press hasn’t gotten wind of it. The original AP wire died on the vine, as everyone is still latched onto the terrorist attack,” Koenig replies. “Perhaps we can issue an updated report on Pineville or the ‘accidental’ releases in the Middle East to divert the press away from anything happening in Springfield.”

“Okay, Colonel. We’ll take that under advisement. And you say that you have the situation contained?”

“Yes, sir”

“I will say that this…information…is a little disconcerting,” one joint chief states.

“I understand, sir.”

“How did we not know that the virus could mutate or that there could be a chance of, what did you call it, a carrier?”

Koenig nods.

“How did we not understand the chances of this occurring?”

“In Koenig’s defense, sir, I will remind everyone that he did caution us that the testing for the virus hadn’t been completed,” General Hague says. “We were looking for the answers we wanted to hear and didn’t heed his cautionary note. Now, Pineville was an accident, plain and simple. One with disastrous consequences, yes. But, still an accident.”

“That’s understood, Hague. We’re not looking to blame anyone. This information has just taken us off guard, that’s all. We’ll go through the footage of Arctic Storm with a fine-toothed comb. We’ve done that several times, but we’ll revisit it. In the meantime, what else can we be doing? How are we going to spin the situation at Springfield?”

“Sir, if I may,” Koenig speaks up. “We’ve already created the preliminaries for an outbreak of avian flu. Several local chicken farms have been identified. The flocks have been slaughtered and farmers reimbursed. The highly pathogenic virus has up to one hundred percent mortality, so that will fit in with the Phoenix protocol. We finish at Springfield, have the CDC issue a press release, and turn it over to them. As far as anything else we can do? There really isn’t much, except to closely monitor any localized flu outbreaks.”

“Quick thinking, Colonel. Good job. Keep us informed.”

“Will do, sir.”

All of the joint chiefs exit the meeting. Before General Hague leaves, Koenig gives her a quick thank you for her support. Without her intervention, that wall building up between him and the council might have solidified.

*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*

Koenig spends the remainder of the week, coordinating and checking often with the CDC for any sign of flu outbreaks. Skier remains in Springfield, searching relentlessly for the carrier without getting any closer. The story of the avian flu outbreak went live and was pounced on for several days, then the stories turned back to terrorism and the potential for another viral attack. Springfield became just another ticker along the bottom of the news channels while “experts” debated potential future attacks and the increased capabilities of terror groups. And then, it vanished altogether. Koenig sweated through the days with his stomach perpetually churning.

He scans each report that comes in from the CDC and WHO, searching for any telltale sign that the virus has escaped any of the perimeters. The relief is immediate until he picks up the next report and begins to search through it. When the news finally comes, it isn’t buried in some obscure report. It starts as a trickle, which becomes a flood from all corners of the world.

This time, the meeting isn’t just with the joint chiefs and his commander. The secretary of defense, secretary of homeland security, and many other faces he doesn’t recognize have joined in; so many that his monitor looks like a collage of faces.

“Colonel Koenig. What is your recommendation for containing this?”

“Unless you plan on a nuclear option, there won’t be any containment. I’m only mentioning nukes to express the gravity of the situation. If you go that route, as I’m sure you are well aware, sir, it will end up worse. My suggestion is that you get the president and vice president to their secure locations. We don’t have enough data to see where it will go, or how long it will last, but my recommendation at this point is to lock everything down and ride it out in a secure location,” Koenig briefs.

“Is it truly that bad? Surely there must be something else we can do?” one of the secretaries asks.

“According to the limited data we have from Springfield, this is just the tip,” Koenig says. “In the next forty-eight hours, we can expect hell to explode on earth.”

“And how long can we expect this to last?” the secretary for homeland security asks.

“Sir, your guess is as good as mine. As far as we can tell, the mutated strain of ARES does not, and I repeat this for emphasis,
does not
cause any of the infected to go into a hibernation state, as the original strain did,” Koenig answers.

“So, we’re looking at a global pandemic that won’t end until there are no more victims…meaning survivors?”

“That could be the case, sir. As the onset was delayed, there’s a chance that the hibernation state could be as well. There’s just not enough data at the moment to know for sure. My recommendation is to get to secure locations away from populated areas and go into lockdown. Areas where the infection has been reported can already be considered lost. Places where there are only a few reported cases may—
may
—be saved if they quarantine the cases immediately and everyone they’ve come into contact with,” Koenig states.

“We can’t go public with this. Can you imagine the panic?” states one person whom Koenig isn’t familiar with.

“It sounds like it’s rather a moot point at this juncture whether we do or don’t. Right now, we need to worry about the leadership and get word out to our forces in order to preserve what we can,” another replies.