Under a Graveyard Sky

dwell on it.

“Officer-involved shooting,” Young said into his radio as he walked to his car. There was a first-aid kit in the trunk. Not that he thought it was going to do anyone much good. He’d had a bit of trouble getting his pistol back in the holster but his voice was clear. Even if he was falling back on older training. “One Kilo India Alpha, two Whiskey India Alpha…”

He paused as he was reciting the litany of disaster, bent over and more or less casually threw up…

“No bites,” Young said, spitting. “So far…”

* * *

“And this is our culprit,” Dr. Titus Wong said, sliding a cursor across the screen to point to a very obvious red nodule on the spinal material. “In a different configuration.”

Dr. Curry was eating popcorn as he watched the video conference. Arranged by the WHO for “interested parties only” the more or less continuous, and continuously encrypted, conference was collating the ongoing study of the Pacific Flu. Curry’s new employers had ensured he was included in “interested parties.” With the news out, carefully avoiding the word “zombie,” the news media was going nuts. As was every epidemiology group in the world. This was the first real “wildfire” they’ve ever contained and it was turning out to be a doozy.

“This is a SEM view,” Wong said. Wong was the Los Angeles Medical Examiner’s Office specialist in infectious diseases. A certified ME, an MD with a pathology specialty and an additional specialty in infectious diseases he was still considered a bit of a plodder by most of the people viewing the slides. On the other hand, he was at the epicenter, which, for once, was not in some remote, usually tropical, country. Well, remote to the developed nations. It was local to the people dying. “Natural color SEM. That is, in fact, it’s color…”

“Question from Dr. Sengar, Stockholm…”

The conference was currently under control of Dr. Addis Bahara, Deputy Underminister for Operations and Response of the WHO. Dave knew Addy and liked him. He was one sharp Ethiopian. And he was a professional unlike the head of the WHO who was chosen mostly for his connections.

“That has a remarkable resemblance to rabies,” the senior WHO representative for Sweden said. “With the exception of the color. There has been no indications of motor impairment.”

“We have seen patients with notable motor impairment,” Dr. Wong replied. “Information lag. Yet I take your meaning. The nodules are grossly similar to rabies but they seem to have a different effect. And rabies is not airborne.”

Telling Sven Sengar, who’d earned any award in virology you’d care to name short of the Nobel, that “rabies wasn’t airborne” was one of the reasons that Wong was a pathologist buried in the basement of the L.A. morgue.

“I said ‘has a resemblance to’ rabies,” Svengar replied, evenly. “Have you attempted to test the Pasteur method for a vaccine?”

“We don’t do vaccines,” Wong said. “Just autopsies.”

“CDC…”

“We’ll begin examining it immediately.” James Dobson, like Addis, was one of the “tech” specialists at CDC but also a decent political animal. “Decent” being defined as good at politics while still holding onto some semblance of a brain. “I’d have said a week ago that Pasteur method was cracked but this pathogen has me wondering if I know basic biochemistry.”

“Dr. Kwai, Thailand…”

“Is there any additional information as to the origin?”

There was a brief pause as people wondered who was supposed to answer that one.

“CDC…”

“No,” Dr. Dobson said. “Computer analysis is showing that it was probably distributed in public venues, notably airports and bus stations on the West Coast of the United States beginning some two weeks ago. Method of vectoring is still unknown and there are no known suspects. For that matter, models indicate it’s still being spread, including in airports and bus stations. FBI has various ideas but quietly they’re admitting that there are no hard leads. We and USAMRIID are…cooperating. But after the Anthrax Debacle getting cooperation is…harder.”

“No shit,” Curry muttered. The entire Anthrax investigation had put researchers on notice that the FBI cared a lot less about science or rationality than politics. That, in fact, the DOJ didn’t have the slightest clue about molecular biology and could care less. The only suspects who were ever identified, and they were publicly identified well in advance of even the thinnest shred of evidence, were professional researchers from USAMRIID, the U.S. Army’s version of the CDC. Both of the “accused” researchers had also been on the teams at USAMRIID advising the FBI. In neither case was there any real indications that either researcher had created the Anthrax spread shortly after the 9/11 bombings. But the FBI was Johnny-On-The-Spot with accusations.

As far as most epidemiologists were concerned, if you could explain to the FBI how something worked, in other words if you had the ability to do it, it meant to whoever you were talking, you were their current prime suspect. Which meant that nobody in their right mind in the industry wanted to explain anything to an FBI agent. Of course clamming up and being “uncooperative” also made you a prime suspect. Catch 22.

The attack, on the basis of no real evidence except “ability,” had finally been pinned on a minor researcher who had, basically, really serious personality problems, not uncommon in any intellectual community, and who very conveniently committed suicide when he realized the FBI was going to “out” him. Which just meant he was a geek not a mad scientist. With a good scapegoat, the best kind because he was, you know, dead, the FBI officially closed the case and declared victory in our time.

Despite the fact that neither researcher ever was shown to have access to the specific genetic strain and that the specific method of creating the coat of weaponized anthrax was a closely held Soviet secret. Nobody in the U.S. had ever produced it or knew exactly how. And the specific genetic strain used in the attacks was found in no U.S. inventory. From a microbiological perspective where it came from was as mysterious as the Roswell Landings.

Pretty much anybody with a PhD or masters in molecular cellular biology or related fields now considered the DOJ and Fibbies their main opponents in any future bioterror attacks. Which given that both sides were necessary to work the problem made this situation that much harder. And the FBI and DOJ had nobody to blame but themselves.

“However, there is a database of all similar experiments being conducted in the U.S. and there are none that are even close. So it didn’t, officially, come from any of our universities or research centers. And there weren’t any ‘unofficial’ ones that come close. In fact, there are so many breakthroughs on this one… No, there are no suspects. No suspect facilities, no suspect individuals and we’re still trying to figure out the vector…”

CHAPTER 5

Nate Dolan, BS, Microbiology, 25 years of age, five foot four in his stocking feet and world-class biology geek with a nearly complete collection of The Amazing Spiderman series to prove it, was regretting more and more his choice of jobs to put himself through grad school. Intergen had been a great place to work. Even if part time and he had to spend most of his time in a moon suit.

Now he had beady eyed FBI agents pouring over his every movement for the last three days while simultaneously expecting him to “help out” for less than half what he got paid at Intergen. In a moon suit, of course.

LAX wasn’t, quite, shut down. But since it was suspected as one of the main sources of the Pacific Flu it had been shut down and might get shut down again. Especially if they couldn’t find the source. And, frankly, anybody had to be an idiot to just go wandering the airport in open