Moving two of the folders beside his laptop, Sutton picked up one that had a bright red cover. He stood up and walked down the table and handed it to the president. “That’s the only copy of our recommendations and projections, sir,” Sutton said as the president took the thick report.
“I will read it, I assure you, but could you answer the question?” the President asked again.
“In three to five months, two hundred and fifty million dead in the US,” Sutton answered, staring at the president.
The president’s mouth fell open in shock, then he snapped it closed and turned around. Looking back at a young female aide standing behind him, “Sarah, tell the joint chiefs I want to meet with them in the situation room in four hours,” the President said and the aide left the room.
Everyone else was panting after hearing that number. “This virus is that lethal? It’s going to kill three quarters of our population?” Paterson mumbled.
Walking back to his chair, “Not alone,” Sutton replied and then sat down, looking at the president. “Mr. President, how much do you want me to give out here? I’m under orders from the director, this is for your ears only.”
Glancing around the room, “Whatever you tell me, they can hear,” the President answered.
Taking a deep breath, Sutton turned to Paterson. “If it goes all out, we are predicting only seven to twenty million people will be alive by this time next year in the continental United States,” Sutton answered remorsefully and Stringer of HHS slid out of her chair, crashing to the floor as she passed out.
“You said the virus only kills eighty to ninety percent!” Paterson shouted.
“It does, but there will be other diseases to pick apart those that are left. People don’t know how to live without the modern world,” Sutton told him as several people went to check on Stringer. “Mr. President, we’ve already locked down the labs and all personnel in Atlanta. I suggest you do the same.”
“You just tell us what you need,” the President mumbled. Suddenly, he looked up. “What about the rest of the world?”
“Less than a hundred million,” Sutton answered.
“How many people here in the US, do the CDC think are infected now?” Jackson asked.
Tapping his keyboard, Sutton looked up at his screen and everyone numbly looked at the screens around them. They saw a box graph with the days at the bottom, ‘Projected Infected’ in bold letters at the top. April twenty-fourth, today’s date: 8,764,357 was in the box. The numbers increased the next two days and then exploded on the twenty-sixth to a staggering 96,627,951. “As you can see, every three days, the numbers skyrocket as more new infected are brought in,” Sutton sighed, rubbing his face.
“Our current projections are that by the end of May, over ninety percent of the population will be exposed,” Sutton said, dropping his hands.
“So, you can’t use a person’s blood who has recovered to make a vaccine?” Temple asked.
“No, but as of right now, we haven’t had one survive yet,” Sutton answered. “The Chinese have a few and found two that have been exposed but not infected.”
“Dr. Sutton, I would like you to stay here and keep me updated daily,” the President ordered, opening the red report book.
“Um, Mr. President, I’m on one of the vaccine teams, the leading team in fact,” Sutton said and everyone turned to look at him in shock. “It’s safe,” he cried out. “I work with lethal viruses all the time.”
“You mean, you actually work in the labs?” Temple asked, stunned that a lowly worker was in the room.
“Yeah, I graduated at the top of my class and spent twenty years working in this field. My team is credited with mapping eleven new viruses and developing treatments for nine other viruses. Just because I sit behind a desk, I wasn’t going to become a useless piece of shit,” Sutton barked, glaring at Temple.
“Mr. President,” Paterson said in a low voice. “Let’s get Dr. Sutton set up at Mount Weather.”
Nodding and liking that idea, “Dr. Sutton, gather your team and report back here tomorrow,” the President commanded. “You can continue your work and also keep us updated.”
“Mr. President, you don’t have level four research centers like we do in Atlanta,” Sutton cried out.
“Yes, we do,” Paterson said, closing the report.
“Dr. Sutton, I assure you that you can continue your work, but if you find out you need something, let us know and it will be there in hours,” the President said, then pointed around the room at select people. “Meet in the situation room.”
Jackson stayed with Sutton as he packed his stuff up and the president walked down to them. “You have family, Dr. Sutton?” the president asked.
“No, sir, none close. Haven’t talked to my sister in years,” Sutton answered, closing his laptop. “My research is my family.”
“Well, any that you put on your team, we’ll make room for their immediate family,” the President said and Sutton looked up at him in shock. “Choose who you’ll need and I’m making arrangements to have the facility in Atlanta stocked and guarded.”
“Is there video conference set up where you want us?” Sutton asked.
Nodding, “Yes, and Jackson, bring him up to speed,” the president said, leaving.
When the president was gone, Jackson leaned over close to Sutton’s ear. “You played that very well. Don’t try to place blame because you may have an accident,” Jackson whispered, then leaned back.
“Thought that was what you were trying to get across,” Sutton said, packing his stuff.
“I’ll meet you at the Pentagon tomorrow,” Jackson said and saw Sutton look up. “I guarantee you, Sutton, you will be happy with this lab.”
“You need to tell them to start limiting contacts because I can guarantee
