The Anthrax Mutation (v1.0), page 15
They reached the road. Chesterly was at least a mile the other way while Stumford was just down the hill. Jim glanced behind him and waited for Paul to catch up.
They stood on the roadside and listened. It was still after them. It was tearing about in the woods. Jim took one final look around and bolted for the village down the hill. Paul didn’t wait to follow. They raced along the road, passed the sign and started down the hill. They could see the outline of the houses. Safety seemed not far away. They reached the bottom of the hill and turned the corner. Jim screamed once and froze. Not twenty feet ahead were six more of the monsters standing around a jeep they had obviously just attacked. Paul grabbed his arm and they turned to run back up the hill. They heard the monsters calling after them and only ran faster. They were near the crest of the hill when the other creature appeared. Jim grabbed Paul’s arm and they fled into the woods. Paul tripped over a branch and brought both of them crashing to the ground. Jim looked up and shook his head. He felt suddenly strange. His muscles were going all funny. His eyes were watering and he couldn’t breathe. Paul was clutching his throat and rolling about. Jim coughed, struggled to stand, made*it halfway to his feet, turned and collapsed, kicking his feet at nothing and quivering all over. His face rubbed in the dirt and he was barely conscious of an agonizing stiffness in his trousers. In a few seconds he was unconscious. In a few more seconds both Jim and his mate were dead.
“Over here,” shouted the Sergeant. “There they are.”
A powerful beam sliced through the darkness and underbrush. Four soldiers in heavy isolation gear and gas masks trudged slowly through the woods, impeded by the garments and wary not to trip.
“Poor blighters,” said one of them. “Why the hell didn’t they stop?”
“Why the hell were they here1 in the first place?” demanded the Sergeant.
“One thing’s sure,” began the fourth soldier who wore a large red cross on his sleeve. “They won’t be walking out. Come on, we better get them down to HQ.”
“The Captain’s going to be mad as hell when he hears about this.”
“So’s London when they hear about it,” replied the Sergeant, heaving one of the bodies across his shoulder. “No one is supposed to get through. And a couple of kids manage to beat the British Army. How’s that going to sound?”
The first soldier was still shaking his head and wondering why they hadn’t stopped when they saw him.
Whitehall. 14:56 Hours
The messages from Comcent were piled high on the edge of the table. Lord Tenningly was sifting through them and jotting down notes. Dr. Marsh was standing in a comer in deep discussion with a technician from ICI who looked terrified at being called to such a formal gathering. Chadwell, Murray and the Major were half asleep in the front row, waiting for the conference to begin. Murray mumbled remarks about how many glasses they were missing every time five minutes passed, but neither Chadwell nor the Major heard. When Dr. Marsh nodded towards Sir Joseph, he wearily arose from his seat and walked to the head table.
He gazed upon the rows of chairs and waited for the murmurings to fade. “Gentlemen, I would like to resume this meeting. Lord Tenningly, will you review the present situation?”
There was a rustling of papers and creaking of chairs as those assembled settled down for the long night. Murray looked at Thomas and nodded. Quietly, they left through the side door and disappeared into Sir Joseph’s study. “He should take about ten minutes—then we’ll go back in,” Murray explained, pouring out two glasses of whiskey.
“I gather you know what he’s going to say.”
“No matter what happens in this country, he says the same thing. He’s just like Dovell—the PM. We must mount our defenses, we must sacrifice, we must all pull together—and he sits there drinking his wine or sailing his yachts while the rest of the country suffers. Personally, Major, there are two people in the world I hate most. One of them is Dovell. The other one is your President. I hate politics. I hate politicians.”
“Diplomatically, I can’t agree with you, but I would off the record—about our President, I mean. I don’t really know much about your PM.
“Yeah, well, cheers.”
Thomas lifted his glass. “Cheers.” He looked about the room. “Still raining out?”
Murray opened the curtain. “Worse. At least it’ll keep the people inside.”
They were silent for a few minutes as each gazed out. The rain was falling harder and they could hear it striking the window.
Lord Tenningly was summing up his summing up.
It is not yet known what has caused the collision at Heathrow, but so far over three hundred passengers and ground support men have been killed. I have also been given a rough estimate of those killed at Stumford. So far over nine hundred and fifty men, women and children have been counted. Troops are still combing the ♦area immediately around Stumford and tomorrow they will be inspecting the housing estates where more are thought to be dead. Whatever hit that village, we now have some idea of its effectiveness.
“This is the picture at the moment. What further reports come in will be—”
Admiral Downing-Wright stood up, clutching a slip of yellow paper. “Lord Tenningly, I regret to add that I have just learned of another sighting. One of my ships, the “Victoria,” has discovered two bats on the deck. Already, three men are beyond help. The Air Force is flying out medical assistance now.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” he replied sullenly. “I think that is all I have to say. Perhaps Colonel Combs and Dr. Marsh could take over…”
As the Colonel and Dr. Marsh approached the table, another message arrived. Lord Tenningly read it, folded it again and sighed. He glanced at Sir Joseph and shook his head.
“The most important part of tonight’s work,” began Dr. Marsh, “is establishing a plan of attack. Colonel Combs has already deployed troops in the Safe Zone Bases and I have managed to get a report from Imperial Chemical on the disinfectant to be used. Mr. Nigel Spence has been good enough to come along and I shall now let him explain the structure of this chemical.”
Nigel Spence arose from his seat and walked nervously forward. He seemed unprepared and ill at ease. Only an hour before he had been standing over a table full of test-tubes at ICI, very safe and comfortable in his work. Suddenly he had been ripped from his security and thrown into the den of government lions. His voice began uncertainly and his hands fumbled with a folder of papers. “As most of you know, disinfectant is made up of phenol, cresols and xylenes. Phenol is a colorless, hygroscopic crystalline solid which is commonly called carbolic acid. In its raw form phenol is highly poisonous and blisters the skin on contact. The cresols and xylenes are benzene hydrocarbons which come from common coal tar. It is the mixing of these compounds which produces the ordinary household disinfectant. Simply, when one compound is increased or decreased, or diluted, a safe proportion of each is reached. Though the disinfectant thus formed is deadly to germs, it is relatively harmless to humans.”
“And to think I had always thought that stuff was glorified soap,” Murray commented drily to the Major. “The wonders of science.”
Sir Joseph frowned at him.
“We are now faced with decontaminating vast areas of the countryside, streets, houses, buildings, forests and so on. Also, the bacillus which must be destroyed is a hybrid variety—it is stronger and more resistent than one would normally come across. At this moment my colleagues are working on a suitable formula which will destroy the anthrax bacillus, but because of its exceptional potency, the resulting molecular combination of phenol, cresols and xylenes will have to be of greater strength. Unavoidably, this will have some effect on vegetation, insect, animal and bird life and even on humans. However, we cannot say at this time precisely what this effect will be. I can say now that its strength will be such that there will be a great loss of plant and animal life and a subsequent shake-up in the ecology of the country. Those responsible for administering this disinfectant will have to ensure that whenever possible animals have been evacuated from the area. I think Colonel Combs is in charge of that?” He glanced around and seemed relieved when the bulky form of the Colonel strode majestically forward.
“We are moving swiftly,” he grinned. His swagger stick found the map immediately. “I have ordered all available troops to converge on their nearest respective Safe Bases. In addition I have several standby forces at the ready. As it now seems that London may well be next, all available troops have been ordered to assemble at zero six hundred hours in Hyde Park.”
Murray glanced heavenwards. The Major seemed intent on what the Colonel was saying, and Chadwell had finally fallen asleep.
“When the disinfectant is prepared, I hope to have every tanker available, both civilian and military, ready to transport the stuff to the Safe Bases. There the men will transfer it to pumpers and begin the disinfecting operation in conjunction with the local fire brigade who can use their own pumpers.”
“If I may make a suggestion,” said the Major. “I could have back pumps sent over which the soldiers can use in the field. Our Forest Service uses them in fighting fires in the back country.”
“That would be of great assistance, Major,” he boomed. “I trust this can be arranged.”
Sir Joseph nodded wearily.
“Good. These back pumps should allow the men greater freedom—mobility—less reliance upon the fire brigades.”
The fire marshalls huffed indignantly.
“Initially, we shall concentrate our ground offensive oh those areas which are known to be contaminated. Then the Air Force will spray the sparsely populated areas. We have investigated the possibilities of using aerosols, but Dr. Marsh and the Meteorological Office have decided that conditions would be unfavorable.”
Murray’s imagination envisioned hundreds of pilots leaning out of their cockpits with tins of aerosol sprays while they whizzed along the rooftops. He grinned to himself. Chadwell began to snore quietly.
“When the troops move into the areas already sprayed by the Air Force, the flyers will use a dilute solution on the preceding areas. Just to be sure.”
“How many gallons of disinfectant are you planning to use?” shouted someone from the rear.
“As many as it takes to destroy this disease,” he retorted confidently. “Mr. Spence has made a provisional estimate of a gallon of disinfectant to fifty gallons of water. It is impossible to say how many gallons of water we’ll use as nothing like this has ever been presented to us—but the disinfectant companies will produce as much as we need for as long as we need it.” He glanced across the table at Nigel Spence. He dared do nothing but nod in hasty agreement.
Sir Joseph arose. “Colonel, might I take over at this point?”
The Colonel bowed politely, thumped his stick beneath his armpit and marched off the floor. Spence scurried for his chair.
“Gentlemen, I know it is very late and we are all tired. I would like to break up the meeting until six thirty when I shall have breakfast served in here for any of you who wish it. In the meantime the top floor of this building has been converted into what can only be described as a rather crowded hostel. We shall resume discussions here at eight forty-five immediately following the broadcast. I do this only because I feel all of us will need whatever rest we can get and as many of the difficulties in dealing with this problem have been overcome, there is no need to stretch ourselves more than necessary. Thank you.”
Many stood up eagerly, long ready for bed. Others continued to talk among themselves while Sir Joseph gathered the Major, Murray and Lord Tenningly together. By the time they had seated themselves around the head table, the room was empty. Chadwell was snoring quietly. He was one of the few who actually looked content.
“Major,” began Sir Joseph, “you and Murray will share the room put aside for you and the boy. I would like you down here by six so we can go over the broadcast statements. Lord Tenningly will give the initial address, and I may have to conclude.”
“Major, I would suggest that you get some rest. Tomorrow will be the roughest day and I shall need you. I am hoping you will be able to get some time away to see your young friend, but with you acting as go-between with the American government, your presence here will be most valuable.”
Murray arose. “Gome on, Major Tom. We’ve got time for exactly three hours sleep.”
“I wish I could be of more help tonight, but—”
“We shall need all the help you can muster up tomorrow.”
He looked down at Sir Joseph. “Good night, then, Sir. I’ll do my best.” -
“I know you will, Major. I am very grateful. Now get some sleep.”
Murray hastened him out. “Give what you want, old man, but don’t overdo it. No one does around here—it isn’t normal.”
Sir Joseph turned to Lord Tenningly. “We better get these statements finalized.”
Tenningly sighed as he frowned upon the masses of notes. “Let’s review everything we’ve got to date. I’ve got a few more sightings around here somewhere.” He rifled through his papers until he found what he was looking for. Behind him the cleaning staff had already begun to straighten the room, and the cool air from the open windows felt good to each of them. Chadwell was left to sleep undisturbed. Sir Joseph glanced out through the rain. It sounded restful, and he was very, very tired.
Whitehall. 08:10 Hours
“This morning I greet you with the worst news since our predecessors were forced to declare that England was at war. In many ways I, too, must make this declaration in the absence of the Prime Minister. England has been invaded by an unknown number of disease-carrying bats capable of inflicting heavy casualties among both civilians and the military. It is very difficult for me to have to admit that this enemy has emerged from within our own country. You are all aware by this time of the critical situation with which we as a country are faced. I therefore call upon you to bring together a desire to help destroy this menace. It is a time when all the resources of the country will be tapped, and it is a time for you all to call upon yourselves and your own resources to protect yourself and your families.”
Sir Joseph leaned forward and adjusted the volume. With the Major and Murray he watched Lord Tenningly address the Nation and he was thankful that it had been decided his own appearance wasn’t necessary. The minutes ticked slowly by, and he was happy to see Tenningly finally begin his closing statement. It was typical.
“This, then, is the situation as it stands at the moment. We must prepare for the worst, and pray for the best. We must all—everyone of us—pull together to fight this enemy which has invaded our country. We are getting help and advice from highly experienced sources and we are taking every step to ensure a quick end to this menace. With your cooperation casualties will be kept to a minimum, and the military will be able to arrest the spread of the disease before it can do any great damage.” He stared into the camera. “Thank you.”
Sir Joseph switched off the set. “We know the rest,” he sighed. “Seventeen cases so far, and I bet Comcent has a few more already.”
“What about the Continent?” Murray asked. “France has reported three cases and East Germany is screaming deliberate aggression.”
“Naturally,” replied the Major drily. “Moscow’ll be shouting that half a dozen bats have arrived in the Kremlin.”
“There goes the Common Market,” Sir Joseph whispered.
“Surely the countries will accept this for what it is,” the Major offered, “After all, you’re getting the worst of it.”
“Ah, yes,” he replied. “But any country looking for an excuse to poke holes in our government policy has it on a silver platter.”
“Including the opposition,” Murray said.
“And they’re the bastards who started all this,” Sir Joseph said without thinking. He didn’t like to swear.
Murray toyed with his watch strap until he remembered the time. He looked at the Major who was staring idly into space. “Your friend will be arriving any time now.”
Sir Joseph glanced up. “Yes, by all means, take the Major downstairs. I should think they’ll be using the security entrance.”
Murray rose. “It’ll do you good, to see each other. I had a call from Mac this morning, but I didn’t want to mention anything to you straight away. He’s not very well, Major. Wouldn’t eat breakfast and still seems rather close to tears most of the time.”
“I,don’t suppose I could take him for a walk?”
Sir Joseph was thinking. “Look, Major. I’ll book you out of here for an hour. Use the security entrance— Murray’ll show you when he takes you down. Leave at nine fifteen and be back no later than ten ten. If you aren’t, we automatically start looking.”
“What about things here?”
“I don’t think things’ll really start hopping much before lunch. I’ve called an assembly for one fifteen so you’ll have plenty of time to prepare whatever you want. When you get back, stay with the boy. Murray can let you know when you’re wanted.”
The phone rang. Sir Joseph answered it, mumbled an acknowledgement and rang off. “He’s downstairs now.”
Belfast Avenue, Slough, Bucks. 09:00 Hours
“Bloody bats and anthrax and Christ knows what,” Mr. Monks swore heatedly. “Bleedin’ marvellous, isn’t it? Last night a whole village wiped out, and today the bloody government is telling us we’re at war again. All because of some flipping experiment Lord Whatever-his-name-is dreamed up.” He leant forward and switched off his telly. “Still, I suppose this means I get some time off. Damned if I’m going marching around the trading estate with them creatures dropping down everywhere. Mind you, I’ll get me wages—work or no work. Let the bloody government pay for it—they started it, didn’t they?”
