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Authors: Robin Cook

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BOOK: Invasion
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“We’re going to have to figure out a way to start warning people,” Cassy said. “We can’t wait any longer.”

“Cassy’s right,” Pitt said. “It’s time for us to go public any way we can: TV, radio, newspapers, everything. The public has to know.”

“Screw the public,” Sheila said. “It’s the medical-scientific community we’ve got to get involved. Pretty soon there won’t be anybody left with the skills necessary to figure out a way to stop this thing.”

“I think the kids are right,” Jesse said. “We tried the CDC and bombed. We got to find some media people who are not infected and just blast this thing around the world. Problem is, I don’t know any media people except for a few slimy crime reporters.”

“No, Sheila’s right…” Nancy began.

Jonathan tuned out. He was crushed about his father’s fate. As a teenager the concept of death was totally unreal. To a large degree he couldn’t accept what he’d been told.

Jonathan’s attention drifted from the bickering inside the car to the appearance of the city. There were plenty of people out and about. It seemed from the beginning the streets were always full of people wandering no matter what time of day or night. And everybody was sporting a stupid fake smile.

Jonathan noticed something else as they passed through the downtown. The people were all busily interacting and helping each other. Whether it was a passerby aiding a workman unloading his tools or a child helping an older person with a parcel, the people were working together. To Jonathan the city resembled a beehive.

Inside the car the argument reached a crescendo with Sheila raising her voice to drown out Pitt.

“Shut up!” Jonathan cried.

To Jonathan’s surprise his outburst worked. Everyone looked at him, even Jesse, who was driving.

“This arguing is stupid,” Jonathan said. “We have to work together.” He tilted his head to the outside. “They certainly are.”

Chastised by a teenager, everyone took his suggestion and looked out at the scene around them. They saw what he meant and were sobered.

“It’s scary,” Cassy said. “They’re like automatons.”

Jesse turned onto the street where Pitt’s cousin’s apartment was located. He started to brake when he saw two cars he was certain were unmarked police cars. From his
perspective he was sure that they were staking the place out. It was as if they had signs on their car proclaiming it.

“Here’s the apartment complex,” Pitt said when he noticed Jesse was about to pass by.

“We’re not stopping,” Jesse said. He pointed to the right. “See those two stripped-down, late-model Fords? Those are plainclothes officers. I’m sure of it.”

Cassy stared at the men.

“Don’t look!” Jesse warned. “We don’t want to attract their attention.”

Jesse kept driving.

“We could go to my apartment,” Sheila suggested. “But it’s a one-bedroom, and it’s high-rise.”

“I got a better place,” Jesse said. “In fact, it is perfect.”

TRAVELING IN A CARAVAN OF TWO OF RANDY NITE’S PERSONAL
Mercedeses, Beau and a group of close aides drove from the institute to the Donaldson Observatory built on top of Jackson Mountain. The view from the site was spectacular, especially on such a clear day.

The observatory itself was as impressive as the location. It was a huge hemispheric dome set directly on top of the rocky pinnacle of the mountain. It was painted a glistening white that was blinding in the bright sunlight. Its dome shutter was closed to protect the enormous reflective telescope housed within.

As soon as the first car came to a stop, Beau hopped out along with Alexander Dalton. Alexander had been a lawyer in his previous life. Veronica Paterson got out from the driver’s side of the car. She was still dressed in her skintight spandex outfit. Beau had changed his clothes to a dark
print, long-sleeved shirt. He had the collar turned up and the cuffs buttoned at his wrists.

“I hope this equipment is worth this effort,” Beau said.

“My understanding is that it is the latest model,” Alexander said. He was a tall, thin man with particularly long, spidery fingers. He was currently functioning as one of Beau’s closest aides.

The second Mercedes pulled up and a team of technicians got out. They were all carrying their tools.

“Hello, Beau Stark,” a voice called.

Everyone turned to see a white-haired man nearly eighty years old standing at an open door at the base of the observatory. His face was creased and creviced like a piece of dried fruit from the intensity of the high-altitude sun.

Beau walked over to the man and shook hands. Then he introduced Veronica and Alexander to Dr. Carlton Hoffman. Beau told his aides that they were meeting the reigning king of American astronomy.

“You’re too kind,” Carlton said. “Come on in and get started.”

Beau waved for his whole team to enter the observatory. They trooped in without a word.

“Do you need anything?” Carlton asked.

“I think we brought the tools we need,” Beau said.

The technicians immediately set to work dismantling the giant telescope.

“I’m particularly interested in the prime focus observing capsule,” Beau called out to one of the men who had climbed up into the interchangeable end assembly.

Beau turned to Carlton. “Of course you know you’re
welcome at the institute any time you’d like to come,” he said.

“That’s kind of you,” Carlton said. “I’ll be there, especially once you are ready.”

“It’s not going to be too long,” Beau said.

“Stop!” a voice yelled. The sound echoed around inside the domed observatory. The dismantling came to a grinding halt. “What’s going on in here? Who are you people?”

All eyes turned to the air lock door. Standing in front of it was a small, mousy man. He coughed violently but continued to fiercely eye the workers who’d taken apart portions of the telescope.

“Fenton, we’re over here,” Carlton called out to the man. “Everything is okay. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

The newly arrived individual’s name was Fenton Tyler. His position was Assistant Astronomer, and as such, he was the heir apparent of Carlton Hoffman. Fenton cast a quick glance in Carlton’s direction, but then quickly looked back at the workers lest they unscrew another single bolt.

“Please, Fenton,” Carlton said. “Come over here.”

Reluctantly Fenton moved sideways, continuing to keep his beloved telescope in view. As he approached Beau and the others, it was apparent he was sick.

“He has the flu,” Carlton whispered to Beau. “I didn’t expect him to come over.”

Beau nodded knowingly. “I understand,” he said.

Fenton reached his boss’s side. He was pale and feverish. He sneezed violently. Carlton introduced him to Beau and explained that Beau was borrowing portions of the telescope.

“Borrowing?” Fenton repeated. He was totally confused. “I don’t understand.”

Carlton put his hand on Fenton’s shoulder. “Of course you don’t understand,” he said. “But you will. I promise you that you will and sooner than you imagine.”

“Okay!” Beau called out while clapping his hands loudly. “Back to work, everyone. Let’s get it done.”

Despite Carlton’s comments, Fenton was aghast at the destruction he was witnessing and voiced his confusion. Carlton drew him aside to try to explain it.

“I’m glad Dr. Hoffman was here,” Alexander said.

Beau nodded. But he was no longer thinking about the interruption. He was thinking about Cassy.

“Tell me, Alexander,” Beau said. “Have you been able to locate that woman I asked you about?”

“Cassy Winthrope,” Alexander said. He knew instantly to whom Beau was referring. “She’s not been located. Obviously she’s not one of us yet.”

“Hmm,” Beau said pensively. “I never should have let her out of my sight when she made her surprise visit. I don’t know what came over me. I suppose it was some vestigial romantic human trait. It’s embarrassing. At any rate, find her.”

“We’ll find her,” Alexander said. “No doubt.”

THE LAST MILE WAS ROUGH GOING, BUT JESSE’S VAN MAN
-aged to navigate the ruts in the poorly maintained dirt road.

“The cabin is just around the next bend,” Jesse said.

“Thank God!” Sheila complained.

Finally the van lurched to a stop. In front of them was
a log cabin nestled into a stand of gigantic virgin pines. Sunlight slanted down through the needles in startlingly bright shafts of light.

“Where are we?” Sheila questioned. “Timbuktu?”

“Hardly,” Jesse laughed. “It’s got electricity, telephone, TV, running water, and a flush toilet.”

“You make it sound like a Four Seasons Hotel,” Sheila said.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Cassy said.

“Come on,” Jesse said. “Let me show you the inside and the lake that’s out back.”

They climbed stiffly from the car, especially Sheila and Nancy. All grabbed the meager belongings they had with them. Jonathan carried his laptop.

The air was clean and crisp and smelled of pine needles. The fresh breeze made a slight sighing noise as it passed through the tall evergreen trees. The sound of birds was everywhere.

“How’d you happen to buy this cabin?” Pitt asked as they mounted the front porch. The posts and balustrade were tree trunks. The deck was rough-hewn planks of pine.

“We bought this place mostly for the fishing,” Jesse explained. “Annie was the fisherman, not me. After she passed on I couldn’t get myself to sell it. Not that I come here that often, especially over the last couple of years.”

Jesse wrestled open the front door, and everybody went inside. It smelled mildly musty. The interior was dominated by a huge fieldstone fireplace that went all the way to the peak of the cathedral ceiling. There was a galleylike kitchen to the right, with a hand pump over a
soapstone sink. To the left were two bedrooms. The door to the bathroom was to the right of the fireplace.

“I think it is charming,” Nancy said.

“Well, it’s certainly remote,” Sheila said.

“I can’t imagine we could have found a better place,” Cassy said.

“Let’s air it out,” Jesse said.

For the next half hour they made the cabin as comfortable as possible. En route from the city they had stopped at a supermarket and loaded up with groceries. The men carried them in from the van and the women put them away.

Jesse insisted on making a fire even though it wasn’t cold. “It’ll take the dampness out of the place,” he explained. “And come evening, you’ll be glad it’s going. It gets cold here at night, even this time of year.”

Finally they all collapsed on the gingham couches and captain’s chairs that were grouped around the fireplace. Pitt was using Jonathan’s computer.

“We should be safe here,” Jonathan said. He’d opened a pack of potato chips and was crunching away.

“For a while,” Jesse said. “No one at the station knew about this place to the best of my knowledge. But we ain’t here for a vacation. What are we going to do about what’s going on out in the world?”

“How fast can this flu spread to everyone?” Cassy asked.

“How fast?” Sheila questioned. “I think we’ve had ample demonstration.”

“With an incubation period of only a few hours,” Pitt said, “combined with it being a short illness and the infected people wanting to infect others, it spreads like wildfire.” He was typing away on the laptop as he spoke.
“I could do some reasonably accurate modeling if I had some idea of how many of the black discs have landed on Earth. But even with a low-ball, rough estimate, things don’t look so good.”

Pitt turned around the computer screen for the others to see. It was a pie graph with a wedge in red. “This is only after a few days,” he said.

“We’re talking about millions and millions of people,” Jesse said.

“Considering both how well the infected work together and their evangelistic attitude, it’s going to be billions before too long,” Pitt said.

“What about animals?” Jonathan asked.

Pitt sighed. “I never gave that much thought,” he said. “But sure. Any organism that has the virus in its genome.”

“Yeah,” Cassy said pensively. “Beau must have infected that huge dog of his. I thought it acted weird right from the start.”

“So these aliens take over other organisms’ bodies,” Jonathan said.

“Analogous to the way a normal virus takes over individual cells,” Nancy said. “Remember, that’s why Pitt called it a mega-virus.”

Everybody was glad to hear Nancy’s voice. She’d been silent for hours.

“Viruses are parasites,” Nancy continued. “They need a host organism. Alone, they are incapable of doing anything.”

“Damn right they need hosts,” Sheila said. “Especially this alien breed. There’s no way a microscopic virus built those spacecraft.”

“True!” Cassy said. “This alien virus must have infected some other species somewhere in the universe which had the knowledge, size, and capability of building those discs for them.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Nancy said. “They possibly could have done it themselves. Remember, I suggested that the aliens might be able to package themselves or part of their knowledge into viral form to withstand intergalactic space travel. In that case their normal form could be quite different than viral.

“Eugene, before he disappeared, was hypothesizing that perhaps the alien consciousness could be achieved by a finite number of infected humans working in consonance.”

“You all are getting way ahead of me,” Jesse commented.

“Anyhow,” Jonathan said, “maybe these aliens control millions of life forms around the galaxy.”

“And now they view humans as a comfortable home in which to live and grow,” Cassy said. “But why now? What’s so special now?”

“I’d guess it is just random,” Pitt said. “Maybe they’ve been checking every few million years. They send a single probe to Earth to see what life form has evolved.”

“Awakening the sleeping virus,” Nancy said.

“The virus takes control of that single host,” Sheila said. “And the host observes the lay of the land, so to speak, and reports back home.”

“Well, if that’s what happened,” Jesse said, “the report must have been mighty good because we’re knee-deep in those probes now.”

BOOK: Invasion
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