The Shift: Book II of the Wildfire Saga (29 page)

C
HAPTER
15

Denver, Colorado.

Emergency National Reserve Operations Center.

The Cave.

D
R
. B
RENDA
A
LSTON
, M
AJOR
, U.S. Army, rubbed her eyes and tried to wipe the fatigue away.
 
She glanced again at the computer monitor displaying a picture of the weaponized virus as seen under an electron microscope.
 
The
 
nodes and little tendrils that snaked away from the core of the virus cell looked evil.
 
It was easy to imagine how the heinous organism attached itself to healthy cells in order to replicate itself and destroy the host from the inside.
 
The virus would penetrate the host cell with its stalk-like surface proteins and inject its RNA.
 
Once replicated, the virus cell grew while the host slowly cell died, until the only thing left was the virus, ready to find another host.
   

Memories from the Great Pandemic rushed back when she looked at the monitor.
 
Brenda was amazed how such a tiny, microscopic thing could cause so much heartache, death, and destruction around the world.
 
So many people killed, so many families destroyed, so many children orphaned, all because of this innocent-looking—she found it almost beautiful at this scale—little organism.
 
It had the same drive shared by all living things: To reproduce.
 
To survive.
 
To secure the future for its own kind.

It was just a shame that in order to do so, that
thing
had to destroy humanity in all its forms—completely indiscriminate in who it killed.
 
Now it had been modified to become the perfect killer…and it had set its sights on America.

Anger welled up inside her again.
 
She wanted to eradicate it from existence.
 
She wanted it to limp off into history like polio and smallpox.
 

Brenda turned to her left and looked at another monitor, displaying the image of patients in base clinic.
 
They'd come down with fevers in the last two days, exposed to infected civilians on the surface.
 
Now they were suffering.
 
One struggled to breathe.
 
She doubted the poor young man would live to see tomorrow.
 

Oddly enough, it wasn't the virus itself that was going to kill him, but a secondary infection that he had picked up somewhere.
 
It had probably already been in his body when the weaponized virus attacked his immune system.
 
Once his body’s defenses were breached, it was only a matter of time before the virus had its way.
   

Brenda glanced back at the report on her desk.
 
Dr. Boatner’s desk.
 
It was unreal to think she was hundreds of feet underground—under the Denver International Airport, no less—in a secret research facility.
 
She was never meant to even know about the existence of The Cave, let alone take the place of someone like Boatner.
 

He's the one who should be here doing this.
 
Not me.
 
She stared at the ceiling.
 
I belong up there, on the front lines…

Someone politely cleared his throat behind her.
 
She turned to see General Daniels standing at the door.
 
He offered her a steaming cup that brought the invigorating scent of fresh coffee into the room.

"I know what you're thinking, Major.
 
You don’t think you’re the right person for the job."
 
He looked around the empty, state-of-the-art laboratory.
 
There were no machines whirring away, no assistants scurrying about with reports and results.
 
The banks of computers and monitors were largely dark.
 
Some displayed the same electron microscope image that was before her on her own screen.
 
Maps, charts, displays of infection rates, and areas of known infection glowed on the others.

Before her, several empty and half-empty Styrofoam cups of coffee lay scattered about the desk.
 
Three completely untouched meals had been stacked in a corner under some paperwork.

She frowned at the mess.
 

"That's right, you're
not
Dr. Boatner.
 
He's the only one left alive who figured this bug out ten years ago.
 
And he's probably the only one on the planet right now who can figure it out again.
 
And he's not here."
 
The General turned her chair around.
 
"Right now, brave men are out there trying to bring Dr. Boatner back
 
to safety."

Brenda lost focus for a second.
 
Cooper's face flashed before her eyes.
 
She remembered the rugged set of his jaw and the hardness in his eyes that she suspected hid a soft core.
 
That crooked smile when he was being sarcastic.
 

A warmth began to spread in her belly.
 
She sighed and looked away from the General.
 
She was in love, she knew it.
 
She had known it when she’d kissed him goodbye before he left for the Boston mission.
 
Stupid timing—she’d always fallen for the unavailable ones.

If she was going to be honest with herself, it had started earlier than that—back when she first met him at All Saint’s in Los Angeles.
 
The long bus ride, the escape from Los Angeles.
 
The Air Force base.
 
She had known then.
 
She couldn't explain it, and as she rubbed her eyes once more and tried to refocus on General Daniels’ pep talk, she knew she didn't want to explain it.

"…we have at the moment, Brenda.
 
I
know
you can do this.
 
We're all counting on you.
 
The
world
is counting on you."

She looked at General Daniels.
 
He smiled.
 
"No pressure, right?"
 

"Right," she replied, her throat dry.
 
She ran a hand through her auburn hair and winced at the tangled mess.
 
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a decent shower.
 
She knew she had to take better care of herself, but couldn’t stop working long enough to bother.
 
She looked down at the trays of food on the desk.
 

"—take better care of yourself, Major.
 
That’s an order,” Daniels said.
 
“You won't solve anything if you don't get enough sleep.
 
Now, you've done fantastic work here on your own—"

"’Fantastic work’, sir?" she interrupted.
 
She spread her hands over the desk.
 
"I haven't done
anything!
 
I haven't
solved
anything!
 
The only thing I'm doing is collecting data and reports.
 
I'm staring at these screens and beating my head against the keyboard trying to figure out how this thing works… I'm not trained for this, I’m a surgeon…"

Daniels sighed and sat down in the chair next to her.
 
He picked up one of the reports and scanned it.
 
"You’re doing what you can.
 
President Harris is struggling to keep the government alive in this time of crisis.
 
We don't even have full control of the Armed Forces."
 
It was his turn to rub his forehead.
 
"I'm ashamed to say we don't even have the loyalty of the Army.
 
Our best guess is we have about a quarter of the troops on our side."

"For the life of me," Brenda said, "I can’t figure out why
now
would be a good time to start a civil war….These politicians have to understand that this thing," she said gesturing at the image of the virus, "doesn't give a rat’s ass about who’s side anyone is on!
 
It’ll kill us all if we don’t stop it."

"Well, the virus does not seem to be killing—"

"That's the point, isn't it?
 
The virus isn’t killing enough people to be a concern.
 
Oh, I understand, it's a concern to you and me—and any scientist or doctor.
 
But to the politicians?
 
The death threshold hasn't been met."

Daniels’ face hardened.
 
"Be careful who you say these things to, Major."

"General, if this thing goes through an antigen drift, it's just one more step down the line toward a true shift.
 
If
that
happens, it won’t matter who the hell we say
anything
to—"

Daniels held up his hand.
 
"Major, I understand the consequences of an antigen shift.
 
I was there, in this seat, in a lab very much like this one during the Great Pandemic," he said with a glance around the darkened room. "Next to Dr. Boatner, I doubt anyone else in the world understands more than me just how dangerous this thing could possibly be.
 
Well," he said with a wan smile.
 
"I can't say that anymore.
 
You seem to have joined our little club."
 
He stood up and straightened his dress uniform.
 
"To that end, since you are doing the majority of the work on your own, I have instructed a team of assistants to help you.
 
If the SEALs are successful in their mission—"

"They will be," Brenda said with a quiet confidence she didn't fully feel.
 
She had to say it—she had to say it for herself.

"You're right, Major.
 
Of course.
 
When
the SEALs bring Dr. Boatner back here, the real work can begin.
 
In the meantime, what you're doing is critical in more ways than you can imagine."

Brenda leaned back in her chair, the springs squeaking.
 
"How's that, sir?"

"President Harris needs accurate information.
 
It's the most powerful tool we have right now outside the Marine Corps.
 
Barron has been taking over the federal security forces one by one and bribing people with food, shelter, and money for their loyalty.
 
Information is becoming more powerful than weaponry.
 
We need to stay one step ahead."

"Well sir," Brenda said as she stood and picked up a stack of reports from the cluttered desk.
 
"These reports are all being transmitted to us from independent doctors and what's left of the state health agencies.
 
They’re displaying a disturbing pattern."

"What kind of pattern?" asked Daniels.
 
He held out his hand and took the reports from Brenda.
 
He rifled through a few of them and focused on one in the middle.
 
"Is this accurate?"

Brenda nodded.
 
"Yes, sir.
 
From what I can gather, it looks like the virus is undergoing some kind of moderate antigen drift—at least in the southern states.
 
I can't explain why—I don't have the experience or the resources yet.
 
But this thing is changing.
 
It doesn't appear to be too bad, but the cases of violent sickness and high fever are increasing in Georgia, South Carolina, and Kentucky.
 
That's a pretty good swath of the South.
 
It seems to be working its way west."

"This report says the same thing is happening in southern California."

Brenda swallowed.
 
"That's correct, sir.
 
We’re just starting to get preliminary feedback that suggests we might be seeing the same or similar antigen drifts in the Los Angeles-San Diego corridor.
 
I've got the latest report from Oregon here," she said holding up a single sheet, "and it looks like there's a few cases outside of Portland with the drifted strain as well."

"How does it present?"

Brenda sighed. “Much like the initial infection that we saw when both coasts were hit with the bio-weapon.
 
Fast onset fever that spikes in the 102-103 degree range.
 
Shakes, chills, and oftentimes immobilization.
 
People get infected, they develop a severe fever—maybe even hallucinations—and before they know it, their body hurts so much that all they can do is lay down and cough up the mucus their lungs.
 
We had reports that even some of our most physically fit soldiers have fallen ill, men capable of carrying hundreds of pounds of gear are suddenly weak as kittens."