Under a Graveyard Sky

“Break this down,” Bateman said.

CHAPTER 7

“The Center for Disease Control and the World Health Organization are assembling an unprecedented group of both professional and amateur synthetic biologists in a desperate search for a cure to the ongoing pandemic…”

“The FBI is searching for a white or Hispanic male in his early twenties believed to have last been seen in the Miami area in regards to the deliberate spread of the Pacific Flu Virus…”

“With the Pacific Flu wide-spread throughout the Pacific Rim, science reporter Timothy Karl has this report on Chinese authorities battle against this deadly disease…”

“Finally some good news as the World Health Organization last night reported a breakthrough in curing the Pacific Flu pandemic…”

“Any idea what he wants?” Bateman asked. All that he knew was that Curry had asked for a meeting. Given that the WHO had announced a “breakthrough” in vaccine yesterday, he’d been expecting the call earlier.

“No, sir,” Tom said. He’d called Curry last night as soon as he got the word. Curry had been tight-lipped and just asked for a meeting the following afternoon.

“Dr. Curry,” Bateman said into the screen. “Still holed up I see.”

“Yes, sir,” Curry said, licking his lips.

“We’re all agog on how you’re going to save us,” Bateman said. “I’d expected the call earlier.”

“Are we secure, Mr. Smith?” Curry said, temporizing.

“We are,” Tom said, curiously. “It’s only the three of us.”

“I’ll have to trust that,” Curry said nervously. “When I covered all the stuff about attenuation in the previous meeting there was a reason: The WHO was kind of ahead of itself on announcing a vaccine.”

“So you can’t make a vaccine?” Bateman said, sitting back, his face hard. “That’s not good news.”

“Just…” Curry said. “Let me get there. There is a vaccine. It’s just a matter of a sort of big logistics issue. The primary vaccine method has been known the whole time. We can do a flu vaccine, given time, in our sleep. But the flu, itself, is besides the point at this point. We need a vaccine for the secondary expressor. We could build a protein sequence mimicking the binding sites for that. They’re working on it. And it will take another two months, minimum. Then there’s certifications.”

“Doctor, we don’t have two months,” Tom said. “I’m not sure we have two weeks at the rate this is spreading.”

“I’m getting there…” Curry said.

“I need an answer, Doctor,” Bateman said.

“You want me to take this slow,” Curry said. “The secondary expressor turns out to be a lot like rabies. It’s definitely based upon it. About thirty percent of the same RNA, similar protein coat… It infects nerve cells. Primarily central nervous system. The spinal cord and brain. That’s…where you find the…face it the zombie virus.”

“Understood,” Bateman said. “And the attenuation vaccine. I think you mentioned lab rats. We got you quite a few. I suppose we can find some of the virus…” he said, looking at Smith.

“I’m sure…” Tom started to say.

“I asked for them assuming that I could work with them,” Curry said, grimacing. “They’re…basically just eating up rat food. Although you should probably get some rabbits or monkeys to use as cover… The thing is… Pasteur and CDC have both confirmed that this pathogen only affects higher order primates. That’s the only source of the virus bodies to attenuate.”

“Oh,” Tom said, leaning back and his face closing down. “Oh…bloody hell.”

“Higher…order…primates…” Bateman said, slowly and carefully. “That includes…?”

“Various…monkeys if you will,” Dr. Curry said, gulping. “Rhesus monkeys would do. Green monkeys possibly. Rhesus definitely. Possibly chimps. Probably chimps… The problem being, the supply of those is already being eaten up by the government for critical personnel. Has been eaten up. Critical personnel and research. There’s just none… None available. That was what I was checking. Thus the logistics problem.”

“Of course, homo sapiens is a higher order primate,” Tom said, his face hard and cold.

“And…yes,” Curry said. “Homo sapiens would… Yes, we are.”

“Thank you for that information, Dr. Curry,” Bateman said. “Besides attenuable virii, what do you need to make vaccine?”

“It’s been a week, sir,” Curry said. “Everything is installed and ready to go. As soon as I can get some virus bodies I can start cranking out the vaccine.”

“Understood,” Bateman said. “And, again, thank you for your assistance in this time of difficulty.”

“Thank you,” Curry said, closing the connection.

“Now I understand his insistence that this conversation was secure,” Bateman said. “And it never occurred.”

“Yes, sir,” Tom said.

“Dr. Curry needs some materials to produce the vaccine, Mr. Smith,” Bateman said, standing up. “I’ll detail a significant budget for this. Are there any questions?”

“No, sir,” Tom said, standing up. “I’ll take care of it, sir.”

* * *

“You understand that this never happened,” Tom said, suiting up.

Although he’d been told he’d never have to “take care” of something, he’d also been hired for his proven ability to plan ahead. And part of planning ahead was making sure that he had back-up in case his bosses were wrong.

Jim “Kapman” Kaplan and Dave “Gravy” Durante were part of that planning.

The term was “functional sociopath.” Both were former special operations. Both had combat experience. Both enjoyed combat. People, other than those close to them, weren’t really “real.”

Tom understood the mindset. He had the same type of brain. It was almost required to be in elite military units. It didn’t mean any of them were serial killers. He’d had them go through advanced poly tests to ensure that they weren’t going to be an “issue” as employees of the bank. They’d never done so much as assault that wasn’t under controlling legal authority. They kept their killer side under control by tight discipline. They just had the potential. In fact, they just really needed a good reason. Like, say, fighting terrorism. Or saving their bosses and family from a disease.

“Your bonus is one out of fifty doses,” Tom said, putting on the gloves of the Hazmat suit. The warehouse was a nondescript property in Alphabet Soup that the bank had reposessed. It was ostensibly untenanted. Setting up the “lab” for this mission had been easy enough. “We get vaccinated right after Dr. Curry. Curry, us, Dr. Bateman and then down. You can use the doses for anyone you want and you get two seats on the evacuation plan.”

“Understood, sir,” Kaplan said, pulling on his own gloves and holstering the taser. “Although I can actually see some value to this. Better than NYPD’s answer.”

The “Afflicted Temporary Holding Facilities” had already made the news. And the term “hell hole” was generally used.

“I’d rather be turned into vaccine than put in that place,” Durante said, holstering a back-up sidearm in case the taser didn’t do the trick. “And since we’re bonding, that’s my official answer. If I go full zombie, make me into vaccine.”

“Will do,” Tom said, getting an odd sensation. It took him a moment to recognize it. It was the feeling of