The Anthrax Mutation (v1.0), page 24
Thomas said good night and quietly closed the door. The sparsely furnished room looked comfortable in the dim light of the bedside lamp which Trevor had left on. There was quiet all around him, and even the partly carpeted wooden floor seemed reluctant to make more noise than necessary when he stepped across the room and sat on his bed. He hoisted his . feet up and put his hands beneath his neck. Christ, it felt good. His body reacted to the rest immediately and his taut muscles collapsed. Sir Joseph had been right. This was the place to be.
Trevor’s uncertain footsteps sounded outside. The door creaked slightly and he appeared juggling a tray on which precariously perched a pitcher of milk and plate of biscuits. He grinned as he kicked the door shut, and set the tray on the table between the beds. “She says she hopes you’re hungry. She’s nice, isn’t she?” He began pulling his shirt off.
“Yes, very. Tell me, don’t you believe in unbuttoning your shirt first?”
“Why? I only have to button it up again in the mom-mg.”
Thomas had never looked at it that way.
“I like it here,” he continued, fiddling with an uncooperative belt buckle. “Is your place like this?”
“My place is about as big as this room—kitchen, bathroom, living room and study.”
“Then where will I sleep if I go with you?” He still struggled with the clasp. “On the floor?”
“Come here,” he said motioning to him. “I’m moving when you come. I want to go to an area called New England. It’s in the East—New York, Massachusetts, Vermont and New Hampshire. It’s very much like this country.” He tugged at the stubborn buckle. “What have you done to this?”
“I pulled it too tight, I guess. You going to give up the Army then?”
“Yep. I’ve got some money,saved up and maybe I’ll open a shop—a big candy store. How would you like that?”
“You’re fooling me, aren’t you?” he grinned, looking down at the loosening buckle.
Thomas gave it one final jerk and it popped open. “Yeah, I’m fooling. I don’t know exactly what I’ll do— never really thought about it till now.”
He stepped out of his trousers and held them up with one finger. “What’ll I do with these?”
He took them, folded them in half and lay them under his bed. He looked up at Trevor who was standing naked save for his pants. He smiled at the pipe-stem arms and legs, at the slender ribs which pushed lightly against his skin and at the floppy hair which was too long and uncombed. Impulsively, he snatched him off the floor and rolled him onto the side of the bed. Trevor scrambled to break free, throwing mock punches where-‘ ever an opening appeared. The Major’s strong hands gripped his arms and held him fast above him at arms length. He looked into the boy’s eyes and for a moment he thought he saw something, something he was to see again many times. Trevor cocked his head and suddenly struggled to break free. Thomas let go, and he tumbled down on top of him. Trevor felt the Major’s whiskers x scratch his face and he laughed.
“You need a shave.”
“And you need a hair cut.”
Trevor rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand. He found a feather poking its way out of the pillow, and he plucked it, running it over the Major’s face. He seemed disappointed. “Doesn’t it tickle you?”
“Will power,” he announced. “Here, let me try it on you.” He rolled over and took the feather. “Just keep telling yourself it doesn’t tickle. That you don’t feel it.” “But I do,” he giggled. “Stop it.”
“Ah, you’re no good.” He tossled his hair.
They were facing each other now, each had their heads propped on their hand, the Major in a borrowed service uniform and Trevor in only his pants and socks. Again Thomas saw that glint in the boy’s eye, and he searched the comers of his mind to discover the answer.
“Are you leaving the Army because of all this?” Trevor asked at length.
“I suppose. I can’t very well work at Detrick with a thirteen year old boy to support, though, can I?”
Trevor lay back and gazed at the ceiling. “When do we go?”
“You really want to go—you think you’ll be happier staying with me than with your own people?”
“There’s nothing for me to stay for, is there? And if I do stay, they’ll only put me in a home.”
Thomas couldn’t reply.
“Then when will we be going?”
“As soon as this mess here is cleaned up. I should think we’ll be back in Maryland by early November.” “That’s me birthday, November.”
“You’ll be fourteen?”
“Not really,” he grinned impishly. “I mean it’s November—the tenth—but I won’t be thirteen. You only thought I was thirteen ’cause everyone said I was.” “Then how old are you—twenty four?”
“Twelve.”
“Twelve?”
“Nothing wrong in that, is there? I’ll be thirteen soon enough.”
The Major stretched out his arm. Trevor lifted his head to let him put it down. “Aren’t you tired?”
“A little.” He rolled onto his side and brought his hands up under his head which rested on the Major’s arm. He shut his eyes. “Only a little.”
Thomas stroked his hair with his free hand. He looked upon his twelve year old and smiled. In America we grow them twice as big, he thought. He’ll really be small for his age at school. And with the thought of school and of his own uncertain future, he closed his eyes and rested. Soon the tell-tale twitches of Trevor’s body told him he was asleep, and he gently pulled him arm free. Hoping the mattress would cooperate, he lifted himself from the bed and, cradling Trevor, pulled back the covers until he could slide the boy inside the fresh, cold sheets and tuck him in. He looked down at him for a moment, smiled and sighed, and walked to the other bed. Lighting his last cigarette of the day, he poured himself a glass of milk and munched on a biscuit.
Outside the wind hurled drops of rain against the window, and he was once again reminded that this was England.
SECTION THREE: ATTACK
Tuesday, 13 th October
III
He could see them as specks in the overcast sky, hut they looked beautiful: three jumbo transports thundered through the brisk wind and porridge grey clouds, growing large and louder as they sank towards the roofs of the houses. He saw their undercarriages drop simultaneously, and a surge of relief pulsed through him. His own people were coming. The wind threatened to blow his Officer’s cap away and made him shiver, but he hunched his back against the early chill and grinned broadly as the first transport touched down. It was followed by the second, and another after that. In perfect formation they swung their giant black noses towards the central control area and lumbered across the tarmac.
“Glen, how are you?” the Officer shouted, eagerly pumping his hand. “Christ, you look like hell—what have they been doing to you?”
“Hello, Ted,” Thomas replied as eagerly. “Boy, it’s good to see you fellows. I’ve been wondering whether I’d ever see you again.”
Ted took him by the shoulder and walked him towards the tower. “Tell me, is it as bad as they say?”
“A hell of a lot worse. Half the country’s affected.”
“Hey, Sam,” he called, stopping at the tower doors. “Check this stuff in for me, will you? I want a drink.”
A Corporal who had been following them nodded. He looked about for a moment, clutching an armful of papers.
“It’s over there,” Thomas directed. “The green door.” He turned to his friend. “The bar is this way.”
“Where the hell is everybody? The place looks deserted.”
“We’ve dispatched most of the men elsewhere—to the key areas. This crazy Colonel in London asked to do it. Then he blew his brains out.”
“Did what?”
“Never mind. It’s a long story.”
“Say, you know you’re famous now? We heard it on the news at Detrick. Old Huntley and Brinkley were really playing you up—“Major Glen Thomas, an Army scientist from Maryland, is the central figure in the emergency operations to save England from a dastardly end.” Picture and all. Really something.”
The Major pushed through a set of glass doors, walked down a barren green corridor and entered a small room. There was a bottle of whiskey on a formica trolley which stood in front of a cheap wooden desk. Two aging armchairs sat forlornly in one comer while several steel frame briefing chairs clustered around the other. Thomas walked to the trolley and poured out two glasses.
“Burr,” Ted shivered. “They don’t believe in heating in this country, do they?”
“You get used to it, Besides, it’s their autumn. This’ll warm you up.”
“Thanks. Well, all the best.”
“Yeah,” He swigged the lot and continued in a voice Ted rarely knew him to use. “Look, Ted, it’s bad. It’s really bad. I’ve seen it—all of it. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen at home. I saw a whole village wiped out-people, kids, just lying about the streets. This anthrax has already killed nearly two hundred and a lot of them are youngsters. And it’s going to get a lot worse if we don’t sort things out pretty damned quick.”
“Hey, you’re really bugged by all this. That bad, huh?”
There was a map on the wall. He walked over to it and pointed. “We’re here just outside London. There’s a string of infected bats from here to the tip of Lands End. That’s where the research plant was. Another string of bats is scattered around here in Wales and there’s another lot of them along here up to Wolverhampton and Birmingham. The main concentration seems to fall around the cities. Maybe because there’re more people to see them. We’ve had something like forty confirmed sightings and we’re getting about one every two hours.” He turned from the map. “These bats carry something, more powerful than we’ve ever tried to develop ourselves. They’ve taken ordinary anthrax and mutated it again and again until it reached a potency where anything that gets near it is dead in a few hours. The effects seems pretty much the same, but the acceleration rate is tremendous.”
Ted pushed himself onto a comer of the desk. It creaked disapprovingly under his weight, but resolved to hold him.
“The first case was in Beckington, here. A thirteen year old who caught it from his dog. He died inside of three hours—in a church of all places. He had a chum sitting next to him in the choir—he died soon after. I saw another kid last night who had been swimming when he caught the thing. Now he’s dead and there are fifty odd kids in hospital who the Army managed to track down. And every time one of these cases is brought into the hospital, the chance of mass contagion increases.” He walked to the trolley and refilled his glass. “I think I’ve hit onto something this morning. I got some information on each case and everytime a person survived the infection, he had to be injected with an antibiotic within ninety minutes of exposure. Anyone who hasn’t, died.
There were a few exceptions, of course—like the boy, but it seems to be in the majority of cases. This particular bacillus is sensitive to antibiotics only in the initial incubation period. After that it’s too strong to be affected by any treatment we know of. It’s deadly all right. It’s so bloody deadly that it scares hell out of me.” He paused, and remembered why Ted had come in the first place. “And then there’s this boy for you to see. Nice kid. And you’ll never believe it, but Porton managed to snatch a sample of the cholinesterase stimulant. Lucky they did as the kid needed it, but that shows how good security is.”
He laughed. “Leave it to the English to get through Tomlinson. How bad off is the kid?”
“Not too bad, I guess, but he’s been under drugs all the time so how bad he really is no one seems to know. I’m bringing him to Detrick, but I was hoping you could sort of check things out now just to be safe.”
“Where is he?”
“Should be over this afternoon. Have a look at him then. Meanwhile you can help me sort out this decontamination problem.”
“Yeah, glad to. How old did you say he was?”
“Thir-no twelve. Got more guts than half of our kids.” He winced. “Twelve, huh? It’s gonna be rough.”
“I know.”
“Have you thought of a chordotomy? At least for the moment?”
“Look, Ted. I haven’t had time to think of anything since—”
The door opened and a timid Sergeant poked his head in. “Sir,” he said, seeing the Major. “Am I glad I found you. I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“Why didn’t you look here?” Ted asked.
“Never mind,” Thomas replied. “Gome in. What is it?”
“Your boys from London have just arrived with the communications gear. They want to know where to rig up. Then a fellow named Murray phoned and asked why the hell you’re having all this equipment set up here when you could use the one in Whitehall. Then Comcent phoned and said to tell you that Sir Joseph Willets will be contacting you to discuss this report.” He handed him a slip of paper. “Then this Sir Joseph did ring a couple of minutes ago and he wants you to phone him back as soon as you can.” He scratched his head. “I think that’s all.”
Thomas was unfolding the message. As his eyes skimmed the decoded script, a frown stole across his forehead. Without looking at either the Sergeant or Ted, he walked to the map and mentally noted several points.
“Begging your pardon, Sir, but they seemed awful impatient. They want you to call down as soon as you can.” .
“Tell communications to link up next door. And I want a small scale ordinance map on one wall and a large scale sectional on the other. And get me lots of markers—all different colors. Then get on to Murray and tell him to link up Combs’ room with the one here so we can bypass Comcent. God knows they have enough to do already. An(f tell him to mind his own damn business. See if you can’t get him up here—I may need him. Then get me through to Sir Joseph. Do that first. Put the call through to me here. Got it?”
The Sergeant nodded hastily. “I think Mr. Murray is on his way up now, Sir.”
“How’s that?”
‘He said he wanted to reorganize things a bit now that iron pants is out of the way.”
“He would. Send him to me when he arrives.”
The Sergeant turned sharply and left.
“Who’s this Murray fellow-sounds like a live wire.” said Ted, pushing himself further onto the desk.
“A mad Irishman who planned the suicide of our principle adversary. He’s a good man to have around when things start hopping. He’s Special Branch, whatever that is.”
“And this Sir Joseph?”
“Probably the best friend I’ve got over here. He’s in charge of all this from the government side. But listen to this.” He took up the message. “Eleven more outbreaks since zero seven hundred. One’s beyond the perimeter track they’ve set up—sort of an internal quarantine. In Wolverhampton—here—the hospitals and police stations are filling up with cases. It’s what we’ve been scared silly even to mention. It’s an epidemic. Now do you see what we’re up against?”
He whistled. “Christ, it’s a goddam nightmare.”
“What about this disinfectant idea we heard about? First I’m told to pick up a thousand back pumps, then halfway across the Atlantic we get a call through to dump them at Reykjavik. Then you say this Colonel has popped his cork. How exactly do you intend fighting this thing?”
“We’ve got the dust. I conned George into letting me have it yesterday. They’re flying it in two hundred ton containers this afternoon if we’re lucky. I’ve tried to rush them a bit.” He knew the bomb had dropped.
“Oar dust-from Detrick? The ZX-109?”
He nodded, grinning.
“My dust—my pet?”
“Your dust and your pet. It’s our only hope.”
Ted swung his head back and slammed his fist on the table. “Do you realize what this means? Do you know what’ll happen if you-know-who-gets hold of it?”
“I know all of that. Sure it’s a risk, but it’s our money against the English people.”
“But it’s not our money—it’s the taxpayers. Did anyone ask them before they gave it away?” He didn’t feel anger so much as disbelief. “Do you know how much that stuff cost to develop?”
“A few years. A few million. And what good is it doing sitting around Detrick gathering more dust.”
“Well,” he replied slowly. “If you can swing it off, you’ve got more guts than me. They’ll strip you for this if it doesn’t work. You know that, don’t you?”
“That’s probably what’ll happen. But I’ve got the British saying they created it and it was their idea. If we lose, they get the blame—not us.”
“That won’t matter a hill of beans in the States. Maybe nice and quiet, but they’ll strip you clean. You’ll never get within smelling distance of the Army again— not in this business, anyway.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m quitting when all this is over.”
“You’re what?”
“That’s another long story. Right now we’ve got a hell of a lot of work to do before those transports arrive. You’re going to have to forget medicine for awhile and double as my Number Two. I want you to get onto Bomber Command or Strike Command—whatever the RAF calls it—and find me ten planes which can deliver this dust of yours from five hundred feet. We’ve got ten more planes on the way from Detrick and they’re scheduled to arrive with the transports. But I want a backup team just in case anything goes wrong. I want a meeting with everyone at fourteen hundred hours if our men are in, then after you’ve done that I want you to chase up that Sergeant if he isn’t lost again and get that room next door ready as soon as you can.”
Ted was shaking his head. “You’re mad, Thomas. You’re as nutty as that Colonel. You’ll never do it. They’ll strip you of everything you’ve got. That dust isn’t even tried yet—did you know that? Sure, we let you fellows up there at the top think everything was hunky-dory, but we haven’t even sprayed a bug let alone a few million people. And how do you know it’s going to work against this particular bacillus?”
