The White Death (11 page)

Chapter 19

Leaving the now-quiet Cobra meeting room, Barrington wasted no time in getting to a government-chauffeured car. Being the head of the HPA, whenever a government chauffeur turned up, she knew it was never going to be good news. On the motorway, her mobile started ringing. She hated how the government needed to use luxury cars to transport everyone about. She could think of many better uses for public money.

“Peter,” she said, answering her antiquated mobile.

“Ursula, how goes it at your end?” asked Peter Roberts. She had never been told he also worked for Section 51. Being head of the CDC was enough.

“They’ll agree to the quarantine,” she said confidently.

“They haven’t yet, though?” he asked, going through some papers he was to brief the president on regarding the outbreak.

“Tune in to BBC News Worldwide,” she said, watching the screen built into the back of her luxury sedan.

“Not bad, Barrington,” he said quickly as the news station played the footage excerpt.

“Did you expect anything less?”

“Hardly,” he said without hesitation. “I need you over here to help. This is bigger than anyone realizes.”

“You can send it over to me, Peter. I can’t leave now of all times. My country needs me. I’ll video conference you in one hour. In the meantime, get that data over. I’ll start working on it right away.”

“On your own, of course. That report is highly confidential,” reminded Peter. A silence on the phone told him that was an obvious yes. “Okay, speak soon.”

“Indeed,” she replied, her mind now deliberating on emergency protocols. The UK Health Protection Agency was a small two-floor building on the outskirts of London, in a pleasant green clearing. Well, usually a nice green clearing, thought Ursula, and not this winter snow the country was enduring.

“Okay, people,” she shouted to her team of scientists on the second floor of the building. “Level-one emergency.” The six scientists immediately began gathering their files and laptops while Ursula activated the underground bunker complex, outfitted with more equipment and experimental technology than they had available to them in normal situations.

“Right,” she began. They all took their seats around the clinically white conference desk below ground. “This isn’t one of the usual over-exaggerated government emergencies. This is real. The CDC is sending us every scrap of information they have. We need to get cracking. It is a virus, and we need to strip it down and get inside it. Every scan, every test. I want answers.”

“Side effects of this virus?” asked the elderly, thin Paula. With everything so last minute, they had no material in front of them.

“Rabies?” asked Paula again, confused, after Ursula repeated the symptoms she had told the prime minister.

“The initial symptoms are almost identical, but the incubation and follow-up symptoms most definitely are not,” said Ursula, scanning her report from the CDC.

“How long?” asked Brenda nervously. Out of their little team, Brenda was the youngest, and this would be her first crisis management situation.

“After initial infection, symptoms are apparent in under a minute. The individual loses complete knowledge of self and speech, while motor functions become erratic. Highly aggressive mannerisms and a ‘herd mentality’ seem to be this virus’s most deadly side effect. It does not kill the host.” Dr. Roberts’ report was highly succinct and to the point, just the way she liked it. No waffle or mishmash, just straight into the detail.

“It doesn’t?”

“No, Paula. That creates our biggest problem. If the infected won’t die, then we may have to exterminate them ourselves.” The room went quiet after that remark, but Barrington was just stating a very real possibility.

“They will eventually die, though…” said Kevin Daniels.

“Oh yes, of course,” said Barrington, “but the disease won’t kill them.”

“Then we need a test subject,” said Paula.

Barrington wasn’t surprised she had asked for a test subject. The best way to beat a virus was to have a live human patient on which to test.

“In here?” asked Brenda, shocked. “I know we have the facilities, but I don’t feel comfortable with this.”

“I’ll see if I can arrange it with the CDC,” said Ursula. “We’re looking at an unprecedented infection rate, and it’s probably airborne.”

“Airborne,” repeated Daniels in shock as the team exchanged worried looks.

“I need this stripped down and analyzed. Let’s get to work.” Her mobile began ringing as the team left, with just the asterisk symbol showing—the Downing Street symbol.

“Prime Minister,” she said briskly. “I’m extremely busy. What can I do for you?”

“We’ve enacted the quarantine. The armed forces are going mad about it, but for the moment, it stays in place. I just want to know … if this arrives on our shores, what’s our best line of defense?”

Ursula paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. When advising the prime minister, you could not just say things that sprang to mind. They might have real-world effects.

“If this virus arrives in Britain, we may have to consider exterminating those infected.”

“You mean kill British citizens,” said William.

“I do, Prime Minister,” said Ursula without apology. “You saw the video. The government has plans for incinerating entire villages and towns if necessary, when there is a viral outbreak. Time to start dusting those plans off, just in case.”

Chapter 20

Christopher was angry. “Freda? How can you possibly consider this? Ring the president and tell him to hold off. We’ll find another way.”

“Cleansing the Korean Peninsula may be the only option we have. Even the Chinese have expressed agreement in the matter. How often are they in agreement with America? Or anyone?”

“We can’t just go in and napalm an entire country. Two countries, actually.”

Freda matched his volume to be heard.

“Would you rather it spread? Would you rather we lose all of Asia?” she said.

“We haven’t even begun trying to find a cure.”

“We don’t have time,” said Freda. “And a cure is not being worked on. Only a vaccine.”

“The United Nations clearly stipulates that the use of napalm on any civilian concentration is a war crime.”

“Your information is accurate but incomplete,” said General Richards, walking into the office. He had been evacuated at the first sign of infection and headed straight to Section 51. “The U.S. ratified the convention in 2009, but we added a clause.”

“Which was?” asked Christopher.

“If the use of napalm on concentrated civilian targets will save a greater population elsewhere, then it is allowed. Besides, no country or institution is going to take the United States to task over this. Every other country out there is thinking it. We have every army in the world preparing for war, and I’m not talking the medical kind our president and the British are harping on about. This is a time when nations increase in size and empires are built. We need to kill this now and clean up the mess started by your Council, Freda.”

“Freda had nothing to do with this.”

“This damn alien Council has just royally fucked us over,” shouted Richards. “I’ve lost thousands of men.”

“The Council has called for an urgent dispatch of our best virologists to Earth. They should be here in around twelve hours. As for the Council, Captain Grace is working very vigorously to bring in an independent inquiry. Our Supreme Court is fearsome, General.”

Richards’s brow wrinkled. “That’ll be a whitewash. I’ve had enough experience with ‘independent inquiries’ to know you don’t get to the truth.”

“The Supreme Court is an intimidating organization. Loretta will be shaking in her boots. I certainly would be.”

“They approved sterilization,” said Richards.

“Only in principle,” said Freda. “But I would rather get a vaccine before going to war with Loretta. Her people will be creating the vaccine, and I don’t want to upset that. The vaccine is more important at the moment.”

“Freda, in twelve hours this planet could be overrun by cave people. And not only in principle,” shouted Richards, furious at this mess. “For once, humans haven’t started it. A group of pompous aliens decided our gene pool isn’t up to scratch. I’m shaking in my boots now. When I received that report from Peter, I couldn’t believe a race could make such a blundering mistake. If it was a mistake.”

“Let’s not jump to accusations,” said Christopher.

Freda hoped the General would heed her deputy’s words. If pushed, she would rise to Richards’ challenge and descend into an argument that would just be a massive waste of time.

“How the hell did that virus escape into the general population in the first place?” roared Richards.

Freda had never seen such fury in him.

“I don’t know.” She lowered her voice. “But I will find out. Has Peter made any progress with a vaccination?” Section 51 had gone into complete lockdown. They had enough supplies and food stores to last them five years.

“Nothing yet,” replied Christopher, sitting down with a sigh.

“Peter is the best scientist I know,” said Freda, truly believing it. “If it’s there, he’ll find it.”

“The president wants you in the White House,” said Christopher, reading a new text message from his liaison officer there.

“Right. Christopher, you’re with me. Inform the White House we will be in the Oval Office in a few minutes. General, start making preparations to exterminate the Korean Peninsula, but keep it on the low-down.”

“I can have my bombers turn all of Korea into ash,” growled Richards.

Freda didn’t comment on that remark. She was still in shock but had nothing to gain by letting her human comrades see it. They relied on her for strength and confidence in a crisis like this. Being truthful to only herself, she knew the odds of them containing Korea were slim, unless they did bomb it.

“I’ll coordinate operations from here,” said Richards.

“Agreed, General.” Grabbing her trusted handbag and coat, she and Christopher teleported into the Oval Office directly.

“Sarah, get me the USS
Obama
,” ordered Richards.

Chapter 21

“Freda, I presume,” said Thomas.

She knew he wasn’t used to people simply teleporting into his office. Christopher and herself had transported in, between the two comfortable sofas that had become part of the Oval Office décor.

“Mr. President. It is an honor. I only wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Don’t we both.” Half of him didn’t want to speak to her at all.

Seeing he couldn’t hide his anger, Freda felt any remaining hope this meeting could go well vanish. As with every other president, she had read extensive reports on him. Thomas Morgan was famous for having a deep mettle inside of him. Never be fooled by the calm, charming demeanor. There were no advisors or secretaries of state present in the Oval Office. It was just the three of them, and Freda knew this one meeting would decide the fate of millions of people. If she couldn’t rally the president into action, a viral war could begin.

  “I’ve only just learned of your existence, but I don’t hold Section 51 or the Council in the highest regard at the moment,” Thomas began.

“I can understand that.” Freda sat down with Christopher, facing the president’s desk. To her, the president looked younger in person, but that would quickly change. She had seen world leaders age rapidly with the pressures of the highest office. Gray hair would always win that war.

“And you must be Mr. Quincy,” said Thomas.

“Yes, Mr. President,” replied Christopher.

“Christopher has worked for me as my trusted right hand for half a century now.”

“That’s a rarity these days. And getting rarer, it appears. Section 51 and government scientists believe they will never be able to save those already infected.”

“Early reports are supporting this, sir. We also predict it could take several days to develop an effective vaccine to inoculate the global population.” She hoped that with the arrival of a specialist virologist team from the Bernay home world, progress would be much quicker, but she was fearful. If the Supreme Court did launch an investigation into this debacle, Loretta may not be helpful and instead seek to get even.

“The Pentagon is in agreement with Section 51,” said Thomas. “They believe only extermination of all those infected gives us any chance of securing the Asian continent.”

“I’m sorry to say, sir, but I most certainly agree with them.”

“Freda, we’re talking about the death of every last man, woman, and child. Every animal. One hundred fifty million of them.” Thomas sipped his coffee, and Freda could feel his piercing stare, watching every movement.

“Mr. President,” she began carefully. She needed to present this in the right tone. “We have a very small window of opportunity here to successfully contain this virus. If it breaks out in China, it will spread across the world with frightening speed. Asia, Europe, the Middle East, all will become infected within forty-eight hours. This virus is not natural—it’s designed. I don’t care what anyone says—that makes it more deadly than anything Mother Nature could fire at us.”

“If that did happen, what would the alien council do?”

“Frankly?”

“Yes.”

“I believe Earth would be put under quarantine, and specialists would be called in to cleanse the planet of all life,” she said. “A virus this dangerous could not be allowed to survive, even in the smallest quantity. A genetic sample of humans would be taken, to clone the species on another world.”

“Like animals,” said Thomas. “Has that ever happened before?”

“No,” said Freda.

“Isn’t it ironic that the Council set out to save us but instead may actually bring about our extinction through their own virus and the possibility of it mutating? Can you assure me that we can get sterilization halted if we contain the virus?”

“I can assure you I’ll try my very best to get it halted.”

“You can’t offer anything more than maybes, can you?”

Freda felt warm around the collar. Unlike her colleagues on other worlds, she respected the governments of whatever world she was stationed on.

“Mr. President,” said Christopher, “we’re offering you what we can. No matter what, Section 51 is still the world’s best bet. I don’t agree with Korea being destroyed, but plenty of people who are a lot more intelligent than I do. It will give us some time to develop a vaccine and work against sterilization.”

“Sir, who knows what kind of progress we can make in even 100 years toward repairing the human gene pool,” added Freda. “Section 51 and its vast knowledge could be fully utilized to attack the genetic problem head-on. We have never focused solely on it before, but we would now. That—and a global effort through the United Nations—could see the genetic problem finally being conquered.”

“If we made enough progress, sterilization could be avoided altogether,” said Christopher.

Thomas stood up to stare out the window.

Freda wished she had telepathy. The president was restless, not happy with the lack of options. Their argument was shaky at best, but she couldn’t see an alternative. He had no other options. Korea was like a necrotic limb; it needed to be severed before the disease spread.

“Sir, every second we waste only brings us closer…”

“I’m not happy about any of the options you’ve given me, but if we can halt this disease and get your Supreme Court involved, then we need to try.”

“Thank you, sir.” Earth had no influence among the Council, and neither did he. Freda was glad she didn’t actually have to tell him this.

“I’m putting Earth’s fate in your hands. I will not allow sterilization—no matter what I have to do, I won’t allow it. Don’t put me in that position. Get your Supreme Court involved, and get me results. I’ll deal with Korea.”

“You are making the right decision, sir.”

“I hope so, Freda. I’m doing my part, now do yours. Now go. Keep me updated at all times. I want this mess sorted out.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said before vanishing.

“Gail, get me General Richards.”

Gail had been working nonstop at his side this past day. He tried to relax into the beautiful leather chair, but nothing could settle him. Authorizing the death of millions of people—he couldn’t comprehend the numbers in his mind, but he reminded himself that wasn’t relevant anymore. They had to protect China, which in turn protected Asia and the world. All the governments’ generals, doctors, and scientists were in agreement. No other option came close to containing the virus.

Thomas recalled how just a short time ago he had wanted to meet Freda and was told he probably never would get to see her. Now he had met her under the most horrible, extreme circumstances, and as thrilled as he had first felt about the existence of aliens on Earth, now he wished they had never arrived in the first place.

“General Richards,” said Thomas as the phone beeped. “You are authorized to proceed with Operation Cleanse.”

“Affirmative, Mr. President,” replied the brusque older general before hanging up.

“Good luck,” said Thomas, quietly.

“You need to see this,” said Gail, barging in. The television flicked on, showing a twenty-four-hour news channel. “Asia in Chaos” and “Mass Regional Rioting” were just two of the headlines he saw. Thousands were shown rioting in major cities in that part of the world. Food hoarding, vandalism, and general disruption to the peace were starting to spread.

“The virus isn’t the only thing we need to worry about spreading then.”