June had moved into one of the CDC transient apartments just in time, Doug thought. From the number of children playing in the halls and outside under the careful eye of the parents, there were probably no vacancies left. He juggled his bundles and rang her doorbell.
“Hi, Doug. You look nice and fresh,” June said as she kissed him lightly. She took his plastic bags of goodies while he held onto the bottles until he was inside and could set them down.
“You look nice and fresh, too—and also very pretty,” he said. She was wearing white shorts and a pale blue blouse with the tails tied across her middle and a pair of flip flops that looked well worn.
“Thank you. Take your jacket off and get comfortable. The power has gone off a few times the last few days. In fact, it’s been off in the apartments for a half hour and just came back on. It was getting so warm in here I decided to break out the shorts.”
Doug wasn’t surprised at the power outages. He had been awake for some of them and knew there would be more and more as time went on. He hung the jacket across the back of a chair, making sure his off duty handgun was easily accessible, and telling June that it was there. After the scenes he had seen of Washington, and with the city population of Atlanta better than fifty per cent black, he wanted to be ready for any contingency, even here, where men that he knew were in charge of security. He had seen re-runs of the Washington mob while dressing, where the press of bodies swept all before them. A handgun probably wouldn’t help in a situation like that, but it was comforting all the same.
“If you’re not hungry yet, dinner can wait,” June said. “I did some chicken breasts and potato salad.”
“Sounds good. Frankly, I could do with a stiff drink. It’s been a long week.”
“I have some coke left if you want to use the rum.”
“That’s fine. How about you?”
“Just one, then I’ll switch to wine.”
Doug found the mix in the refrigerator while June produced glasses. He made the drinks while she busied herself with setting the little table and readying the rolls to brown whenever they decided to eat.
The transient apartments for singles contained a small kitchen, a combination dining nook and living room, a bathroom, and bedroom. The furniture consisted of a small couch and two other chairs, a little dinette set with folding chairs and a television screen on one wall with computer and phone connections. June’s comphone was such a constant companion on the job that with both wireless and manual connections to the big wall screen available, she hadn’t brought her desk unit.
June had already seated herself on the couch by the time Doug finished mixing the drinks. She patted the seat beside her when he handed her the rum and coke, garnished with a slice of lime he had discovered in the vegetable cooler. He sat down, took a big long swallow and sighed.
“Ahhh. I’ve been wanting this the whole week but I don’t like to drink alone.”
“Me, either. I guess you haven’t watched the news yet?”
“Just while I was dressing and that was mostly re-runs.”
“Well, President Marshall issued a number of edicts to go with his martial law. I think some of them will cause problems rather than helping. He declared a night curfew for blacks but not for whites, other than those going to or from work. Can you imagine?”
“Aw shit. Excuse the language, but what in hell can the man be thinking? Doesn’t he know that’s going to just stir them up even more? Not that I can blame them much. Hell, I can’t blame them at all, can you?”
“I guess not. If I were in their position and had been stepped on like they have for 500 years, then been on the receiving end of a virus that was going to kill everyone I held dear… well, you probably wouldn’t have had to give me a gun. I would have gone looking for one.”
Doug sipped at his rum. “Yeah, same here. Still, it’s not our fault, and so long as people of color are all stirred up, we’re going to have to be careful.”
“They’re going to be stirred up even more soon. The staff virologists have definitely determined that the Harcourt virus was deliberately altered, then almost certainly spread intentionally.”
Doug had expected that to become apparent. Still, it was bad news. “Oh, man. That’s sure to get out. A bombshell like that can’t be contained.”
June took a big gulp of her drink, wrinkling her nose a little at how strong it was to her, but taking another taste before setting it down. She turned to Doug, frown lines between her eyebrows showing how troubled she was. She started to speak, hesitated, then decided to go ahead. “Doug, I hate to tell you, but there’s even worse news. And please, don’t repeat this anywhere, okay?”
“Maybe you’d better not tell me if it’s that sensitive.”
“No, I want you to know. Just keep it between us. Okay?”
“All right.”
June sighed, then told him. “The new morbidity reports and transmission projections just came out. The Harcourt virus is still almost one hundred percent fatal—and if the infection rates continue along the same curve as they have so far, we’re going to lose up to a quarter of the world’s population, all within the next six months to a year. That’s if we don’t find a cure.”
Doug grimaced. “How about a vaccine? Couldn’t we immunize anyone who hasn’t caught it?”
“That’s the rest of the bad news. We’ve been running tests on random samples of the population now that we’ve identified the antigenic properties of the virus and… Doug, over half the world is already infected!”
“But how…?” Even having worked for the CDC for a number of years, he wasn’t well versed in the mechanics of infectious diseases.
“It was designed to infect, then become latent for a certain length of time. We’re not real sure of the mechanism there, but it really doesn’t matter. A vaccine wouldn’t help the people who are already carrying it.”
“Good God, I hope that’s all of your bad news,” Doug replied. “I don’t see how we can…” He saw the look on her face. “Oh damn. There’s more, huh?”
“Yes,” June admitted. She blinked back tears before continuing. “Now the ones coming down with the active phase of the disease will begin infecting those who didn’t get it the first time around. We proved that this week.”
Doug shook his head, unable to comprehend how anyone, no matter how evil, could have loosed such a plague on the world. He was speechless for a moment, unable to get his mind around the numbers.
Finally he said, “I can see why you don’t want this getting out. But it will. Nothing that horrible can be kept secret long. My God, June, just think of having to bury that many corpses while civil violence is tearing the country apart! It can’t be done. Unfortunately, I’ve seen situations like that. On a much smaller scale, true, but still…”
“I know. And that’s not all. Secondary infections from unburied bodies and failing health systems will only make it worse.”
“Christ. And what about our transportation system, the trucks and trains and ships and barges that supply the cities? Not even counting the farmers. Before all that breaks down the country better start stockpiling food. So should the CDC.” Doug finished his drink and got up. He headed for the bottle of rum. He picked it up and looked back at June. He saw the concern written on her face.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to get blind drunk and try to wipe the images from my mind, but I do want one more. Then maybe we’d better eat.”
“I agree. Make me another, too—not quite as strong as the last one.”
President Marshall had finished reading the briefing that included the same information June had passed on to Doug. The only other person in the oval office other than a lone secret service agent was Lurline Tedd, his chief of staff.
“What in hell are we going to do about this, Lurline? When this gets out the country will go wild. I don’t know if even the army will be able to hold things together.”
Lurline had already been turning the data over in her mind, running through various options at a speed she had become famous for. She had quickly reached the only decision that made sense. She ran her fingers through her short gray hair, tousling it into a disarrayed tangle that had also become famous and provided gist for the political cartoonists. “We’ve got the ones who started this thing in custody, don’t we?”
“Yeah, the CIA found them a couple of days ago, right back here, all except for that goddamned scientist who created the virus. We lost track of him in South Africa when the country started disintegrating. Hell, Lurline, we even lost contact with our agents who were still searching for him. They’re probably dead by now.”
