10/15/13
I was just finishing up a final public safety report for the week when the phone rang. It was already after 5:00 and I was eager to start the weekend, so I briefly considered letting the call go to automated message. But my overdeveloped sense of duty made me pick up the receiver and say hello.
It took a moment to understand the caller. He didn’t identify himself, he just went right into greeting me by my first name and saying I had to come right away. After asking him to hold for a moment, a pause allowed me to finally place his voice — Professor Dean Pilchard.
He was, until last year, the lead researcher of the biology department out at the university. He was a very innovative thinker and had made several significant advances in his field, gaining accolades for the school. Unfortunately he tended to be lax in his techniques, often taking shortcuts or not following established procedure in his rush to a conclusion. Thus after several warnings and reprimands had failed to change him, he was reluctantly discharged from his position. It’s a shame when such potential has to be terminated prematurely. But some people just won’t change bad habits.
I had made his acquaintance well before that event when our agency contracted with the university to run a series of tests on a large batch of vaccine we’d had to recall. But our relationship at the time had been purely professional; so I didn’t understand why he was calling me now and speaking in such a familiar manner. Perhaps it was just an idiosyncrasy of his personality.
“Alex, you have to come!” he said. “It’s extremely important. This is big. Big! And your agency needs to take action right away. Lives are at stake. Perhaps even the very survival of mankind!”
“OK; OK,” I sighed. “There’s no need for exaggeration. What do you want me to do?”
“I need you to come to my lab and take a look at what I discovered. It’s a new life form, Alex; a new microbe. And it’s potential for devastation is incredible.”
I was not impressed. Finding a new microbe wasn’t my idea of a major event. “Where are you now?”
“Oh, you haven’t been here yet, have you?” he asked. “I’ve set up a lab at my lake cabin. Once I, uh, left my former job I wanted some solitude for a while. So I came out here to continue my projects. But I found a discovery here. It’s too amazing to tell over the phone. Please come. You will, won’t you?”
“Yeah; ok.” My mental scrambling failed to come up with an excuse quick enough, so I had to consent. After getting the address I told him I thought I could head out the next day and get there by noon. He gushed with more excitement until I finally cut him off.
The next morning about 11:15 I pulled up at his property. I arrived a bit sooner than expected due to starting earlier than I’d planned. I really need to speak to my neighbor about mowing his lawn at 8:00 a.m. on a Saturday.
Before I could knock on the front door I saw a note taped to it — Alex, come on in. I went down to the grocery to pick up some lunch for us. Hopefully I’ll be back before you see this. But if not, make yourself at home. Dean.
I turned the handle and went in. It looked exactly as I expected of an absent-minded professor. The smell of dirty laundry and old food added to the effect. Satisfied that no one else was there, I took a quick look around and found the bathroom. After a brief stop there I next found the kitchen to look for something to drink.
The coffeemaker was half full and still hot, so I opened cupboards till I found a clean cup. Pouring the coffee I saw it was satisfyingly opaque. I detest those who make it so weak it looks like tea. The canister of sugar provided a couple of spoonfuls, but the creamer container was empty. I dropped it in the trashcan nearby, which I noticed was nearly overflowing. This was another source of the odors in the house. No wonder he was finding new microbes. With housekeeping like this all sorts of things could be growing here!
Another search through the cupboards was fruitless; there was no more powdered creamer. I crossed to the refrigerator and braced myself for whatever fossilized remains I was about to see. But the shelves were empty; completely empty. I guessed this was why he had to go out for food.
The upper door compartment had only a bottle of ketchup and a small jar of mayonnaise. But there in the lower door compartment I found a little half-pint carton of heavy cream. Pulling it out I gave it a gentle shake and could feel a few tablespoons of cream left. I pushed open the spout and gave a sniff; it smelled ok.
I closed the door, returned to my coffee, poured in the last of the cream, and tossed the empty carton in the trashcan next to the other container. I was now ready for re-energizing. Ah, sweet elixir! Years of public service had turned me into a coffee-holic.
Carrying my drink I began to browse around the place. I was hoping to find the professor’s experiment before he got back so I could take a quick peek at what he’d called me up here for and begin forming a counter argument. But the clutter prevented me from identifying a distinct work area. It was too late anyway; I heard his car rattling up outside. I took the cup back to the kitchen then went to the door to greet him.
“Hello, Dean. I made myself at home; like you said.”
“Alex, thanks so much for coming,” he gushed, shaking my hand vigorously. “I have the most amazing thing to show you. Wait, just a sec while I put the pizza in the kitchen. You like pizza, don’t you?”
I nodded, then waited in the living room until he came back. He excitedly told me to follow him to the garage. Of course, why hadn’t I thought of that? He had it set up with a lab table, a microscope, and an assortment of specimen slides and test tubes. A converted bookcase held rows of various sized jars containing small animals preserved in formaldehyde. He had gone all out to replicate a real lab.
After switching on a light and checking the focus of the microscope, he motioned for me to take a look. I leaned over and peered into the eyepiece. I stood frozen a long moment. I was seeing a microbe unlike anything I’d ever studied or even heard about.
“Amazing, huh?” he tittered. “And just wait till you hear what it can do.”
He had my full attention now. “What is it? Where did you get it?”
“You may find this hard to believe, but I think it’s from outer space. Wait. Sit down and I’ll start from the beginning. Did you ever see my dog Ruff? No? He was a spaniel. I’d take him on long walks through the forest out back whenever I needed a break to clear my head.
“One day after a walk I saw him acting strange. He was chewing at his stomach; not as you imagine, just nipping at fleas. No, he was actually biting hard enough to draw blood. It was like he wanted to tear his abdomen open. I called to him so he stopped. But then he’d look at his stomach and cock his head like he was listening to something. He’d almost start to bite himself again, then he’d look at me and whine. I knew something was wrong, so I thought to take him to a veterinarian. By the time I had a blanket made up in the back seat of the car and went to get him, he was already dead. It didn’t occur to me at the time that he might be infected with something. I just thought it was a snakebite. So I buried him in the back yard and didn’t think anymore about it for a week or two.
“Then sometime afterwards I was on a walk again; I kept that up even though he was gone. And I came across a raccoon writhing on the ground and also ripping his own intestines out. I quickly put some distance between me and it, then watched as it eviscerated itself and died. I ran home for some protective clothing and tools to retrieve the remains, then brought it back for examination. It was when I looked at a blood sample that I first saw these things.”
“Do you still have it? That raccoon?” I asked.
“Yes; it’s over there on the shelf. After that I exhumed Ruff; well, just enough to take a sample of his tissues, and I found the same microorganisms in him. Since then I’ve been making regular trips through the forest collecting samples of every animal I can catch or find recently expired. This organism is amazing! So far I haven’t found any species it can’t adapt to.
I’ve found it in mammals, reptiles, birds, fish, and even insects. Predators get it from prey, scavengers get it from carrion, and so on.”
“That’s quite a range of host organisms!” I said.
“Yes. The insects were the surprising link; but it can transmit through them too,” he continued. “That’s probably how it cycles to the birds and fish; then from there back to the mammals.
“An animal eats something infected. Upon reaching the gut the organism burrows through the stomach wall and enters the bloodstream, then spreads to every organ in the host’s body. As it devours the host’s brain the animal begins acting bizarrely; consuming the host’s muscles makes the animal unable to run. The infected animal’s strange actions and inability to flee make it an easy meal for opportunistic hunters. This then spreads it to other hosts or even other species.”
By now I was developing a sick feeling in my stomach. True, this was an exciting discovery, as he’d said. But I could foresee the impact this would have if it actually were as pernicious as he described. This might literally become the start of a strange new epidemic. A Hollywood-style disaster come true. Since I hadn’t spoken, Professor Pilchard interrupted my thoughts with more details.
“The microbe is also temperature responsive,” he said. “If the host dies and grows cold, the microbe goes dormant until it enters another creature and the new host’s body temperature reawakens it. It has a wide range of viable temperatures. But I haven’t discovered yet what mechanism it uses to tell whether the host is dead or just cold-blooded.
“This led me to test its limits of survivability. I’ve frozen them with liquid nitrogen, boiled them in water, baked them as hot as my oven can go, and they’ve still revived afterwards. Finally, I used a blowtorch to reduce a sample to nothing but dust; examining the ash under the microscope showed that only this could kill the organism. A vacuum chamber and a pressure chamber, both had no effect. I haven’t yet been able to get access to a radiation chamber, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they can stand that too. They’re nearly indestructible. That’s what made me think they aren’t native to this planet.”
As improbable as that sounded, I was beginning to believe him. When he’d said it earlier, my first thought had been ‘crackpot’! But now it was seeming to be the only explanation. Native life forms aren’t this hardy.
“Once I formed the theory that they’re alien,” he went on, “I began searching for their entry point into our biosphere. I plotted on a map of the forest where each sample had been collected and whether or not it was infected. It took two months but I was able to inscribe a boundary of the affected zone.”
“You’ve known of this for two months?!” I asked. Before I could press him further he blew past it.
“Yes. It would have taken even longer if I hadn’t called a few of my former students to come help with collecting and testing. Once I knew the zone I went to the center and there I found it — a meteorite crater. Although it’s not absolute proof, it’s strong support for the theory that this is an alien organism.
“So far the infection seems to be limited to a two-mile radius. But it’s not going to take long to spread beyond this area. Given the thing’s virulence and the number of vectors which support it, we’re going to have a tremendous problem if we don’t contain it while it’s still this limited. You need to mobilize every resource you have.”
“Yes. You’re right, of course.” I spoke slowly; I needed to think. An agency action of this magnitude wasn’t going to be easy. If I didn’t present it to my superiors the right way, I’d end up looking as crazy as the professor. On the other hand, if I did nothing and this thing spread, that too would be the end of my career. Being in a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation was making me queasy. I began moving toward the door.
“Oh, wait,” said the professor. “I have another sample for you to see. I mentioned already that the organism goes into hibernation if cooled. They go through an interesting process as they emerge from dormancy. I’d like you to watch it and tell me what you think. I believe there may be a vulnerability there. If so, we’ll need to find a way to exploit it. It could be our only hope.
“As they spread through an animal’s system they get into every organ. But after the host dies some tissues are less conducive than others to the parasite’s later reanimation. I’ve observed that organisms in the host’s muscles recover far slower than ones in brain tissue, vital organs, and congealed fluids. I haven’t had time to go too far with testing, but I think it has to do with the lactic acid in muscle tissue. So using this, I’ve learned that cold milk is a very good medium for putting them into suspension. Wait just a minute while I get the sample.”
The professor rushed from the room. I followed him to get away from the smell of the formaldehyde. Normally it didn’t bother me, but today I was finding it unpleasant. I caught up with him in the kitchen. He was standing with the refrigerator door open and had a puzzled look on his face.
“Is something wrong?”
“It’s not here,” he said. “Maybe it was one of the grad students that took it; but they don’t usually come by on the weekends.”
“What’s not there?” I asked. He didn’t answer, but just closed the door and looked around frantically. He stopped suddenly in front of the trashcan, snatched up the empty cream carton and peered inside it. Turning quickly he looked at me and his mouth opened. His eyes then went to the empty coffee cup on the table beside me. He lifted his eyes to me again and his face went pale.
I was following the meaning of all this as quickly as he was. “How could you?!” I yelled. My anxiety had just jumped to the level of sheer terror. “How could you put something dangerous in an unmarked container? In a regular refrigerator? How?!”
“But, but, nobody else was here,” he stammered. “There wasn’t anything else in there. I even put it on the bottom shelf.”
“Stop it!” I screamed. “I don’t want stupid excuses. What do we do?! How do we treat this? Move out of the way; I need to throw up.” I ran for the bathroom.
“That won’t help,” he called after me. “It’s too late. They enter a system very quickly.”
I hated him. I could hear the warped sense of pride in his voice. It was as if his discovery’s potency was his own. He came to the open bathroom doorway.
“I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t know.”
“Shut up,” I shrieked. “And stop calling me Alex. We’re not friends.” That announcement along with my expression caused him to step back with a stunned look on his face. Jeez! Did that just hurt his feelings? He’s poisoned me but doesn’t want me to make him feel bad about it? I can’t deal with him right now! I have to save myself.
“I gotta get to a hospital,” I blurted. But as I moved for the door he stepped in my way.
“Alex, no! You can’t leave here,” he said. “Think about it. If you go you’ll be taking the organism to a new center. As long as we keep it to this small area we have a chance to contain it. But if it gets out in the general population we’re all doomed.”
I knew he was right. But I didn’t like hearing it from him. After considering my options for a minute I used the phone to call my superiors. I ordered a Class One Biohazard Containment Response and gave enough description of the situation to ensure they mobilized sufficient resources.
I then asked my boss as a personal favor to make sure Professor Dean Pilchard was prosecuted for infecting me and to charge him with culpable negligence for not reporting this threat earlier and in the proper manner. If I didn’t make it through this, I at least wanted to know he’d go down too.
With my last official responsibility taken care of, I was able to turn my thoughts again to how to get out of this situation. Then it occurred to me, it was true I couldn’t take the organism out of this area. But if I could leave the infected part behind, then the rest of me could go for help.
All I’d have to do is remove my stomach somehow and leave it here for the containment crew to handle, then I could drive myself to the hospital for treatment. Sure it was drastic; but at least I’d still be alive. The doctors could patch the intestines and it wouldn’t be much different than a gastric bypass.
It could work. It had to work. I ran to the kitchen and pulled open drawers until I found a large knife. I sat on the floor, propped myself in a corner, and pulled open my shirt. My adrenaline and my resolve kept me from feeling much pain as I cut a large vertical slit in my abdomen. I set the knife down beside me and pulled my stomach and a length of intestine through the opening.
Professor Pilchard came into the room just then and screamed at me to stop. I ignored him and picked up the knife to cut the stomach free. But seeing what I was about to do he rushed over and kicked the knife from my hand. What was wrong with this man?! Why did he keep ruining my life?
Without the knife the only way I might get the stomach loose would be to chew through it. I grabbed the intestine, but as I tried raising it to my mouth my arms started twitching. I tried again, but this time they wouldn’t move at all. I was out of options.
My head slumped to the side but I was
able to turn my eyes enough to see my killer. I whispered, “I hate
you!” I noted with satisfaction that his countenance fell again;
he had heard me. Then I felt a wave of irresistible sleepiness.
COPYRIGHT PROTECTED
