The Beginning of the End (4 page)

Dr. Theodore (Ted)
Grace had been Miranda’s number two for the last four years. Ted
was essentially on loan from the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute
of Infectious Disease (USAMRIID), but he answered directly to Miranda
and was considered a permanent fixture at the CDC. Together, Ted and
Miranda discovered and worked on a serum for H1N1 in Mexico in 2009.
As a team, they had seen everything from Haunta in Arizona to Ebola
in Algeria. During their years together, Ted had become a stable
fixture in Miranda’s life, both at work and home. There’s
something about serious tragedies that can bring hearts together.
During those tragedies, Ted was her crutch.

“Miranda, you need
some rest. You’ve been going non-stop for the last 48 hours.” Ted
said as he released her shoulders, reaching for her hands.

“How am I going to
sleep with all these people dying around us?” Miranda whimpered as
she felt the uncontrollable pressure of tears building up again.

“Miranda, you’re
not doing anyone any good here. They’re dying! All we can do is
make them as comfortable as possible. Most of them won’t make it
through the night.” Ted bent down so he could look up at Miranda’s
lowered head. Black lines of mascara trailed down her cheeks. He put
his arms around her, “It’s okay. Let it out.”

Miranda broke away from
Ted’s hug, “I don’t want to let it out! I want to do something!
I just can’t seem to wrap my brain around this. How many patients
contracted Ebola when we were in Algeria?”

“Miranda it doesn’t
matter.”

Miranda’s tears
turned to anger, “How many did we have Ted?” demanded Miranda.

“We had 223 confirmed
cases of Ebola, and we lost 156.” Miranda leaned back against the
counter, looking up, trying to figure the math in her head, “That’s
about a 70% mortality rate, in a small clinic, and in a village with
no modern medicine or equipment.” She started pacing along the
windows, moving her fingers like a child counting, “And how many
patients do we have here in Palo Alto?”

“As of this morning,
we had 789, and none of them are showing signs of improvement.
They’re all critical, and we don’t expect any to make it through
the next 72 hours.”

Miranda’s pacing
stopped, and she was back at Ted again, “Not only has this strain
gone airborne, but it seems to kill everyone who comes in contact
with it. Ted, this bug is one nasty son of a bitch!”

Ted sat in the nurse’s
chair and spun slowly, looking across the patient’s ward, “What
are we going to do Miranda?” Ted asked. Miranda put both hands on
the desk next to Ted. She was silent for a few moments, then Ted
thought he heard a gentle laugh come from underneath Miranda’s
hood. She looked up at him smiling, “Do you speak French, Ted?”

October 3rd 2:30pm

Dr. Marcil gave us a
tour though McGill’s extensive campus as we made our way toward his
private secure laboratory.

“Ah, here we are
gentleman, Sophie if you would be so kind.” Dr. Marcil motioned by
waving his hand at a large set of steel doors that acted as the outer
security system of his lab. Sophie stepped up to the steel doors and
placed her hand against the bio-print pad. With her simple touch, a
glow of blue encompassed her fingers. Simultaneously, a thin light
wave emitted from the display encasing Sophie’s face, with a
multicolor LED grid, forming a pattern of small squares on her. With
her face lit, Sophie gave her security code, “Dr. Simone, 71770.”
The lights all began to pulse green as a computer generated female’s
voice spoke, “Good Afternoon Dr. Simone.” The edges of Sophie’s
lips curled up, “Good Afternoon MARIA. How are you today?” “I’m
doing very well Dr. Simone. How are you and Dr. Marcil today?”

Bob watched as the
security system identified Sophie, “MARIA?” hissed across his
lips as he exhaled.

Dr. Marcil turned to
Bob after hearing his whisper, “Yes, MARIA is our lab security and
doubles as our assistant. We call her MARIA for short. It actually
stands for, McGill’s Automated Research Intelligence Assistant.
MARIA likes to keep her eyes and ears on everything we do in the lab.
She’s as much a part of the team as we are. Try not to think of her
as our security system, but more of an assistant.” Dr. Marcil said.
Bob looked back at the screen on the door as an, “Uh-huh,”
escaped his lips. Bob listened as the conversation between Sophie and
MARIA continued, “Dr. Simone, I see we have visitors.”

“Yes MARIA, this is
Major Jean-Luc Besson from the Canadian Military, and Colonel Robert
Aiken from the United States.” When MARIA spoke again, Bob looked
for the almost invisible pinhole speaker in the door.

“Hello, Colonel Aiken
and Major Besson. I am happy to be at your service. If there is
anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask. Please come in.”

The sound of an
electric motor hummed, followed by the echoing thump of the large
retracting steel bars within the door.

“These doors are
designed to withstand the blast of a large amount of Semtex!” Dr.
Marcil bragged.

Dr. Marcil motioned for
the men to enter through the steel door. Bob followed Sophie as he
was led through a maze of secured doors. Each door opened with a
different type of inner security system ranging from retina scanning
identification, to a simple key card with a numeric key pad. Bob was
impressed with the security features of the lab, “Doctor, you’ve
certainly done your homework on your security protocol, but why such
an elaborate system to protect a cure?”

Dr. Marcil’s ears
perked up, “Ah, good question indeed Colonel. In our line of work,
we always need to be thinking of alternate possibilities.” He
tapped his index finger against his temple and pointed to the
ceiling, “MARIA, will you help us with the Colonel’s question?”

“Of course Dr.
MarciI, it’s quite easy.” Bob peered up at the ceiling looking
for the voice again. “He who has all the power is king!” Bob
lifted an eyebrow to Dr. Marcil, giving him a, did I just miss
something look? The invisible speaker came on again, “Colonel
Aiken, please allow me to elaborate. What would you do if one of your
loved ones contracted a terrible disease and only one group of
individuals controlled the serum?”

Without hesitation, Bob
said, “I suppose, I’d do just about anything to get my hands on
it.”

“What if that same
group of individuals wanted to save it for themselves, fearing the
possibility of an outbreak among their own ranks, making them
unwilling to give to the needy for self-preservation?” Bob took a
deep breath and exhaled, “I don’t know what I’d do. I guess
whatever I had to.”

Dr. Marcil looked at a
computer monitor sitting on a nearby desk, as though MARIA was a
material presence in the room, he asked, “Is that all you have to
say about it MARIA?”

“No, Dr. Marcil. If I
may be allowed to expound on the subject further?” Dr. Marcil shot
Bob a smile, “By all means MARIA, let’s hear what you have to say
on the matter!”

There was a short pause
as if MARIA was giving the illusion of thinking.

“Colonel Aiken, there
is the possibility that the motive of some individuals is not to help
people, but to hurt them.” Bob looked at the ceiling as he spoke,
as if MARIA’s presence was now above him, “I don’t understand
how a cure could do anything but help people.”

Again, after a short
pause, MARIA summed up her theory, “Colonel Aiken, what if it was
the intent of certain individuals to hurt an entire nation, like your
United States? They might be inclined to infect the population with a
disease, after having gained control of the disease’s serum, and
withhold the cure from nations other than their own. Although, in
this case, it would seem you may have already accidentally infected
yourselves, or have you?”

Bob’s mouth fell
open. Had this been an accident, or was it some sort of terrorist
act? War was for soldiers, but terrorists didn’t care who they
killed. Bob supposed there wasn’t much difference between killing a
child and cutting off a man’s head on world television. In the end,
it was all about the body count!

“Well MARIA, you
certainly brought up an interesting point!”

Bob broke his stare
from the ceiling and moved to Dr. Marcil, “Please tell me that’s
not the case, Doctor!”

Dr. Marcil tapped a
four-digit code into a key pad, and pulled open a large steel freezer
door, “Everything you need is in here.”

The freezer door
opened, revealing a cooler as big as a football field. Both sides
lined with hundreds of brown cardboard boxes, each one was the size
of a dorm room refrigerator. Every box was stamped with large red
letters spelling out ZMAPP.

Bob took a step into
the freezer and felt the fan blow the cool air over his face, “My
god Doctor. This is incredible!”

Sophie stepped into the
cooler next to Bob, “Doctor Marcil and I have been preparing for
this day for the last ten years. This is half of our serum. The other
half is off site in a federal security center for disease control in
Ottawa.”

“We have created a
supply of serum large enough to dose every man, woman and child in
the world. Not only can we guarantee them a dose, but we can do it in
twenty four hours.”

Bob rubbed his hand
across the top of the cold cardboard box and asked, “How is that
possible?”

With a triumphant
smirk, Sophie announced, “It’s soluble!”

“What?”

“Yes. It was a
breakthrough Dr. Marcil, and I had two years ago. Nobody heard about
it because our whole program is top secret. The serum can be mixed
with any fluid. Your government has planned for an incident just like
this. They plan on adding ZMapp to your reservoirs and water
filtration plants. People will be able to self-medicate, and not even
realize they're doing it. Because the serum is built from a protein
base, ZMapp is harmless in any amounts. Theoretically, after dosing
the water supply, the entire US could be vaccinated by dinnertime
tomorrow.”

The conversation was
ended by a click above their heads, “Dr. Marcil!”

“Yes, MARIA!”

“I’m receiving a
call from Dr. Miranda Frost. Would you like me to put it through?”

“Colonel Aiken, I
believe you are an acquaintance of Dr. Frost. She’s on-site at Palo
Alto.” Bob nodded his head yes.

“Well in that case,
MARIA put her on speaker.”

October 3rd 3:15pm

The speaker above their
heads clicked again, followed by three short beeps.

“Hello Dr. Frost.
This is Dr. Marcil here. You're on with Dr. Simone, Major Besson and
Colonel Aiken. How is the situation in Palo Alto, Dr. Frost?” The
entire group was focused on the speaker now.

“Dr. Marcil, I’m
not going to sugar coat it. It’s bad! The worst I’ve ever seen.
The Alto Strain has mutated and is now airborne with a survival rate
of zero!”

Out of the corner of
his eye, Dr. Marcil caught Bob’s mouth fall open for the third time
today.

“Miranda, It’s Bob
here. What do you mean survival rate of zero? That’s not possible
with the resources we have.”

“I wish that were
true, Bob. This thing is killing people 72 hours after first
symptoms.” Bob sat and listened in disbelief, “Miranda. What's
the total extent of the situation there?”

Miranda paused as
though she was calculating the damage. “We’ve lost it, Bob!”

Bob’s hand
instinctively touched his forehead as he looked up at the speaker in
the ceiling. “Oh my god Miranda! We’ve lost the entire Intensive
Care Unit?”

“No Bob, We’ve lost
Palo Alto!”

“Oh my!” came from
the corner of the room as Bob looked over to see Sophie stepping
back, reaching for the chair to balance herself.

The speaker in the
ceiling began to hum again catching Bob’s attention. Miranda came
on pleading, “Bob, we need you here now!”

Bob surveyed the room,
his eyes locking on the boxes of ZMapp, “Miranda, we'll be there in
eight hours!”

“Please hurry, Bob!”
Miranda pleaded before hearing the distinctive click from the call
being disconnected.

Bob turned to Major
Besson, “Can you get me a cargo jet in the next hour?” Jean-Luc
looked at the gloom on Sophie’s face, then back at Bob again,
“Colonel, I can have a jet loaded with your ZMapp and in the air in
sixty minutes.”

“Doctor Marcil, I’m
going to have to steal some of your ZMapp serum.” Bob said
apologetically.

Dr. Marcil stepped into
the threshold of the cooler, admiring his life’s work and answered,
“A certain condition comes with ZMapp, Colonel.” Bob gave the
doctor and inquisitive look, “What is the condition Doctor?”

Doctor Marcil reached
out and touched the rough cardboard surface and spoke again, “I
created the ZMapp Colonel. It doesn’t go anywhere without me.”

“Us!” The three men
watched a faint Sophie rising from her chair, “We created ZMapp
Doctor, and it doesn’t go anywhere without us!”

By the time Sophie had
stood up, Jean-Luc was already on the phone making the arrangements.

Eight hours later the
Canadian CC-177 Globemaster was landing on the now military
controlled Palo Alto Airport.

The Globemaster’s
co-pilot stepped out of the cockpit just before landing, motioned to
Major Besson. The two men conferenced for a minute and turned to Bob
and the Doctors.

“Colonel Aiken, the
crew has advised me that the entire city is under quarantine, and we
are ordered to be suited up before breaking the seal on the doors.”

Major Besson opened a
storage hatch near the tail of the plane, exposing a dozen yellow
plastic suits. The crew joined them after touchdown. Over the next
thirty minutes, they were all engaged in the monotonous process of
suit instruction and inspection followed by dressing.

With everyone fully
geared up in their biohazard suits, the Globemaster came to life as
motors in the mammoth plane’s tail section began to hum, lowering a
ramp large enough to drive a tank down.