The Leaves in Winter (50 page)

“If you want, we can redo tests or ask around, possibly think of new ones – but all that does is bring us back to the eggs. Without more eggs, there’s no way to test.”

Curtis halted. “That means GARC is the key.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“All right. I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, double-check what you have. What we’ve started we have to finish.”

The call ended. Out in the hallway, hidden around a wall, Noah stood listening. He had only heard one side of the conversation but it was enough to solidify his resolve. He didn’t trust his father, now more than ever, but he’d stay and see what else he could learn. So far he knew
GARC was the key
.

Curtis’s last words echoed back. “…
what we’ve started we have to finish
.”

Those were Noah’s sentiments exactly.

Chapter 47

Two Weeks Later

Sub-Basement Conference Room, GARC

The room’s silence matched its starkness. Small spotlights highlighted the table’s blank surface as if nothing beyond the narrow halos of brightness mattered. Empty chairs hugged the table’s perimeter. A whiteboard stood by blank and in shadow. There was room for twenty at the conference table.

Janis and Faye walked in to find only one.

Colin Insworth sat relaxed, leaning back, ignoring the tablet computer before him. An active screensaver gave measure of how long he’d been quiet, still, and lost in thought. His eyes flicked focus from a vanishing point across the room to watch the women walk in and take a seat.

“Thank you for coming,” he began, a marked gravitas all too apparent. He glanced at Janis. “I realize after a long day this is the last thing you want to do, but bear with me. I have news both of you should hear together. It’s from
Granite Peak
.”

Neither Janis nor Faye reacted openly but they’d been expecting to hear test results of their trial sterility fix for days. If anything, such news was overdue. The first trial was their best effort so far to find a way to reverse sterility. Preventing it from happening in utero was to be their next project. To be able to move forward and develop trial two, they needed positive results on their work so far.

Colin’s relaxed posture belied the severity of the news. “They had no success.”

For a moment, the certainty of it smothered every sound and hope in the room.

Colin added, “They ran every test you suggested and a few of their own.”

Deflated, Faye quizzed, “They saw nothing? No change?”

“No, none that meant anything. They tried variations, noted some effects on secondary characteristics but nothing that reversed sterility.”

Janis prompted, “Don’t hold back on the data. We need to review exactly what they did. Something might have gotten overlooked.”

“You’ll have the data on the servers within the hour. But they’re confident with the results. Nothing was overlooked.”

Janis’ frustration edged into defensiveness. “If it was overlooked, I hardly think they’d know it. That’s just the point.”

“I get it,” snapped Colin. “I’m disappointed too, but we can’t spinoff rehashing what doesn’t work. We don’t have time.”

“What delayed them getting back to us?” asked Faye.

“Sequencing the animals against their control group took longer than planned.”

Colin had hit on a sore point with Janis. She folded arms and sat back. “Are these conclusions based on the animal tests?”

“Primarily.”

Janis tried to keep calm. “What about the computer models I recommended?”

Colin paused, knowing full well his answer would not be liked.

“Project management decided models would take much longer to develop than conducting animal trials. Even if they found a model that worked, they’d still have to conduct real world testing on what the model suggested.”

“But in this case, I think a model would be more precise.”

Colin’s face twisted, bewildered. “I’m not a scientist; so explain that – what’s more precise than a test on a live animal? It’s not theoretical; it’s a live subject.”

“And what about the 2% variation in DNA between chimpanzees and us? The Project can’t be certain with these results; there is a distinct margin of error.”

“They know that but in this case they believe it’s negligible.”

Janis was confrontational. “You don’t understand. We’re dealing with a level of precision where if just
one
base pair is off the whole thing might not work. How can they simply write off a 2% variation across the whole genome?”

Colin’s patience was short. He responded in kind. “They didn’t. That’s why they did other tests. Like I said, they came up with a few of their own.”

“What kind of tests?” The concern on Janis’ face drew Faye’s attention.

Faye turned back to Colin. “You don’t mean human trials…”

“Yes…” Colin was firm. “It was always the last option if animal tests failed.”

“Who would volunteer for such a thing? What about maintaining secrecy?”

Faye’s question was intentionally naïve. But the implied answer wasn’t the worst of it. Janis rocked forward and leaned on the table.

“A valid human test could only be done on someone sterile. Are you telling me they experimented on children?”

Colin nodded. “It was the last resort…”

“Last resort?” shouted Janis. “This was our
first
trial…”

“What children did they use?” demanded Faye.

Colin was subdued in manner but his posture held firm and defiant.

“There was one criterion; they had to be terminally ill.”

“Did the families know?”

Colin looked Faye in the eye. “What difference would it have made?”

Janis bolted from her chair and paced to the whiteboard and back.

“What else is this Project doing and not telling us about?”

“It’s no secret. I just told you,” asserted Colin.

“After the fact!” yelled Janis.

“Did any of them die?” asked Faye.

Colin watched as Janis stopped her pacing to turn and watch him answer.

“There was one. An inoperable brain cancer patient.”

Janis steamed. “As if that makes it any better.”

Colin shifted forward, his patience at an end. “What do you think is going on here, huh? Realistically, how much time do you think we have? You know what’s happening; the situation is deteriorating by the hour. We have to do some difficult things but it’s gotten to that point – we have no choice.”

Janis stood her ground. “There are other ways…”

“That take more time!” Colin interrupted. “If Mass’ virus keeps spreading like it has without any way to fight it, most of the world’s population will die this year.”

Colin’s statement filled the room. The terror of hearing such words said in earnest gave all of them reason to pause. Faye was the first to seek some hope.

“There’s still a chance the vaccine will be found…”

“Will it matter?” asked Colin. “People are afraid to take vaccines – Mass made sure of that. His MIOVAC vaccines are on every continent. Everywhere they’ve been tried, the spread of disease gets worse – not just his disease,
every
disease. As best as we can tell, the latest batch of MIOVAC turns off the immune system. Healthcare workers are facing impossible triage situations. It’s hard to know how to treat when multiple symptoms overlap and look the same. If The Project had a 3P vaccine right now, I doubt we could get people in many parts of the world to take it. They’ve seen too much; they’ve lost trust.”

“So what are you saying?” asked Faye. “It’s too late?”

Colin had to choose; answer with his head or his heart. Unwilling to give up but unable to rally much enthusiasm, he dodged the question.

“No one can answer that. But we know the game has changed.”

Faye looked to Janis. “It’s strange; before Mass died, all we had to worry about was sterility. Who would have thought we’d ever see that as the better alternative?”

“At least sterility gives us one generation to find an answer.”

Faye answered her, “And we thought
that
was pressure.”

Colin added, “That schedule doesn’t work any more. At best we have twelve to fifteen months. After that, chances are, it will be impossible to continue our work. Supplies, utilities, infrastructure, personnel…it’s all about to change. After the collapse, none of it will be reliable – if it exists at all.”

“So what do we work on now?” asked Janis.

Faye leaned on the table and bowed her head. “If 3rd Protocol isn’t stopped, what good will it do?”

“Then we have to work on that.”

Colin pressed Janis, “You’d want governments to mandate vaccination?”

“If the vaccine worked. The success rate using it would develop its own momentum. At least with 3P under control, we’d have a whole generation to complete our work on sterility. We’d have a chance.”

Colin took the tablet computer in hand and stood, preparing to leave.

“Labs around the world are studying 3P – there are enough people on it. You two need to stay focused. No one but The Project is working on the sterility problem; no one else even knows about it.”

Faye sighed. “But we need a fix before the population collapses – a solution to give the survivors.”

“That’s for damned sure,” remarked Colin. “It’s a reasonable bet that survivors won’t be able to develop one themselves. They’ll have more immediate problems. Besides, they won’t even know about the problem until it’s too late.”

“We need to get more researchers involved…” suggested Faye.

“Things are too far along; that’s not going to happen.”

Janis stood at the opposite end of the table. Her eyes filled with tears.

“If you’re right…if our first trials have failed, that puts us back at the beginning. We won’t have time. There’s no way we can devise, analyze, test, and deploy a sterility treatment in time. Even if we did, if people are afraid of vaccines, do we really think they’re going to hand over their children for some mysterious treatment we can’t explain just because Project secrets need to stay secret?”

Colin headed for the door. “With some things it’s better people don’t know…”

“What do you mean?” asked Janis.

Faye answered for him. “The Project never intended on telling people they were getting the treatment for sterility. Deploying the fix means coming up with a way to release it into the wild – the same way Ghyvir-C infected them in the first place.”

Janis nodded. “Of course…I forgot. Solve the problem in the riskiest way.”

Colin paused in the doorway. “The greatest risk at this point is in believing an answer is going to be conventional or without sacrifice.”

“Maybe I’d feel better if a secret Project wasn’t the arbiter of sacrifice.”

Colin threw up his hands. “None of that matters. You don’t have a solution anyway. And now you say there won’t be time for one. What’s riskier than that? You two have a name for that don’t you? What’s it called? BIOPONORE?”

Colin turned and was gone but his last word resonated between the women left behind. They looked to each other in recognition and dismay.

…
BIOlogical POint of NO REturn
…

For Faye, hearing Colin choose that word in context was even more unsettling. She and Colin had talked about it briefly at
Granite Peak
, but Faye had never explained its meaning. The fact that he now knew it gave implicit proof that Project managers were using all covert means possible to find out whatever they wanted.

For Janis, despite all efforts, the worst case scenario suddenly seemed more probable. Overcome with emotion, she rushed from the room.

“Janis…” Faye stood and called after her but she was gone.

Faye found her minutes later, in the lab, standing at the glass that looked in on the BSL3 containment box. She was silent and still, dazed and preoccupied.

Janis ached to turn her thousand-yard stare into a thousand-year gaze.

Faye stepped up alongside her but said nothing.

“It’s incredible,” started Janis. “Human history stretches so far back. It’s so easy to assume it’ll go on forever. We might be able to deal with sterility or the plague, one or the other, but not both of them, not at the same time.”

“I thought for sure the test trial would work,” whispered Faye.

Janis turned her back to the glass and leaned against cold stainless steel.

“What did we miss? We had everything at our disposal to look at – Ghyvir-C, the RIDIS data, 2nd Protocol, the gene mapping from Alyssa…”

“We didn’t miss it,” asserted Faye. “We simply haven’t found it yet. If we had more time, we’d find it.”