The Nirvana Plague (26 page)

The graphic shrank up to a corner of the screen, out of the way.

“Well,” Benford said, “if anyone was harboring any remaining doubts about whether what we’re looking at is a real epidemic, I think this data has to be considered proof positive.”

“Agreed,” Linney said.

“General Harden,” Benford said, “what we’ve seen in the Karakoram theatre over the past few days has convinced me that this thing is
not
a weaponized chemical or biological agent. Even if the origin is biochem technology — for which we have no good evidence, of course — it’s obviously loose in the wild now. We saw with our own eyes what we believe to be at least twenty-five cases of it among the guerilla units that captured us, and we also learned there are many more of them elsewhere. I think we should assume that the enemy is getting hit by this thing at least as hard as we are.”

Harden frowned. “So the good news is it’s not what we thought it was. And the bad news is that it’s not what we thought it was.”

“Yes, sir. That’s about the size of it. We know it’s not a weapon, but we don’t know what it is.”

“Pathogenetic organism?” Linney said.

“I can’t think of any other possibility,” Benford said.

“But?” Harden said.

“But it’s hard to see how it could be an infectious disease. It doesn’t fit any known incidence pattern.”

“Agreed,” Lang said. “It’s too widespread to have a short incubation period. And it’s spreading too fast to have a long one.”

Tired and impatient, Marley said flatly: “It’s not a pathogen.”

“It’s too soon to say that definitively,” Benford said.

“Whatever it is,” Harden said, “wherever it came from, the first thing to decide is what are we going to do about it? How are we going to stop it?”

“Standard containment protocols,” Linney said.

“We’re already doing that,” Delacourt said. “Isn’t the CDC already doing that?”

“We need to take it to the next level,” Harden said.

“It won’t work,” Marley said.

Harden’s head tilted toward Marley’s image. “What
will
work, Dr., uh, Marley?”

Marley was so bone-tired he hardly registered Harden’s obvious annoyance. “It won’t work because it’s not an infection. You’re not containing anything.”

“We’re containing the outbreak,” Harden snapped back.

“Yes,” Linney said, “whatever it is, and however it spreads, isolation will stop it, if anything can.”

“Agreed,” Lang said with a defiant nod.

“Colonel?” — Harden wanted to make sure he had Benford’s buy-in.

Benford glanced at Marley. She looked nearly as exhausted as he did.

“At this point,” she said, “I don’t see anything else we can do.”

“Period?”

“Sir?”

“Thirty days?”

“Yes, sir. That sounds reasonable.”

Vaguely, Marley wondered what they were talking about.

He felt Delacourt’s hand on his arm, supporting him. It felt odd. He must sound even worse than he felt.

“All right,” Harden said decisively. “I’m going to be speaking with Secretary Pritzker in a few minutes. I’m going to recommend to him that the CDC be given approval to amplify current quarantine orders to implement mandatory isolation for all known cases of IDD and thirty-day quarantine for all suspected cases and for anyone who has been in direct contact with a known case within the last thirty days.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, that’s how we plan to get it under control. How are we going to kill it?”

After the meeting Marley returned to his quarters. Friedlander brought him a comm phone and jacked it into a wall plug. Each team member was getting eight minutes of “personal air time” to call home. Friedlander waited outside while Marley called. Marley gave the officer on the line his home number and waited while he placed the call. Ally was already crying when she came on the line.

“Carl!”

“Don’t cry, Al,” he said. “I’m all right.”

“You don’t sound all right,” Ally said.

“Well, I’ve been through … something.”

Marley leaned back against the wall. The windowless little stateroom seemed to be shrinking around him. The bunk under him felt like a slab of ice. There was a clock on the wall. Almost 8:00 o’clock. AM or PM? PM. Benford had said it was — something-hundred. Evening anyway.

“Are you still there?” Ally said.

“Yes. I’m here. I’m only allowed eight minutes to talk. I haven’t had much sleep in … in — what day is it now?”

“It’s Saturday, Carl. I haven’t slept either!” She was starting to cry again. “I thought I’d—” she stammered, “I thought you’d — Can you imagine what it’s like to get a message like that?”

“A message?” he said.

“Yes! Dear Mrs. Marley, we regret to inform you we’ve lost your husband!”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sure it’s been—”

“When are you coming home?”

“I can’t come home, Ally. We’re all quarantined.”

“What? Quarantined?” She stopped crying suddenly. “Who is? For what? For IDD?”

“Yes. Everyone. Everyone who has had contact. Everyone is being isolated.”

“For how long?”

“Thirty days.”

“Thirty days!”

“Yes. It’s worse than we thought. It’s getting worse. That’s why we’re increasing the quarantine level. It’s—”

“When did this get decided?”

“Just now. I just came from the meeting.”

He felt like the wall was giving way behind him. He seemed to be getting gradually more horizontal. He fought to pay attention to the conversation. The phone handset felt like a lead brick in his hand. He noticed a knot in the cord on the way to the wall jack.

“Carl, are you still there?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m here.”

“Where are you? Where are you staying for thirty days?”

“I’m on a ship. Carrier.”

“You’re staying on an aircraft carrier for thirty days?”

“No, Al. Not on the ship. They’re going to set up a special, a special unit, or something. A special facility. We’re going there to, to…”

“Where is it?”

“We’re going there to work on the problem.”

“Where?”

“I can’t tell you. Anyway, I forget.”

“What hemisphere?”

Friedlander came back into the room. “Time, sir.”

“I have to go now,” Marley said.

“No!” she said.

“Al,” he said, his voice breaking, “I love you. I hope you still love me. I miss you—”

The line was cut. Eight minutes to the millisecond.

“Mrs. Sturgeon! Open up, please!”

Roger stopped talking and stood up from his barstool. “I’m sorry,” he said, very solemnly — and fear swept through her.

“Mrs. Sturgeon! Open up, please!”

She walked toward the door slowly. Why were they yelling? How did they get in the building? — The power was off! She guessed who it was, of course. She stalled for time.

“I’m Ms. Hanover. There’s no Mrs. Sturgeon here. Who are you?”

“This is the Board of Health! Open up!”

She looked around at the window. Fire escape? This is crazy! “Just a minute!” she yelled back, frightened and angry.

“
Now
, please!”

She heard them trying the door. Bastards.

She kicked the cushions, blankets, and pillows aside, and put her hand on the lock and the knob. She could feel the tension of a hand on the other side of the knob.

“What is it?” she yelled.

“We have a court order.” A different voice. Sounded like DeStefano. “You are required to open this door, ma’am.”

She turned the lock and let them push the door open.

Two police officers and DeStefano, the Board of Health officer, stood in the hall, crowded close to the door.

“What’s the problem?” she said, scared, unsteady.

DeStefano stuck out a paper at her. “This is an order from the Centers for Disease Control, authorized by the county court, compelling you to surrender your husband to us.”

She ignored the offered paper. “What the hell for?”

“Your husband has to be isolated.”

“He
is
isolated!”

“Also, Mrs. Sturgeon, you are ordered to remain in mandatory quarantine in your apartment for thirty days.”

The three men pushed forward, and she stepped back involuntarily.

“He can stay here with me,” she said.

“No, he can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Just tell him to come with us, ma’am,” one of the officers said.

“No. I refuse. I want to talk to your supervisor first.”

“If you refuse to comply,” DeStefano said, “you will be arrested for failure to comply with a court order. If you attempt to prevent us from removing your husband from the premises you will be charged with interfering with an officer.”

“I want to talk to your supervisor first.”

“You can call your attorney or anyone you like,” DeStefano said, “but we’re taking your husband anyway. Now tell him to come with us, please.”

But Roger was already coming up to them, ready to go. Docile as a dog. The officers backed away from the door.

“Where are you taking him?”

“To the hospital.”

“What fucking hospital, for Christ’s sake?”

“County General.”

“Why not Joplin where the others are?”

“Because that’s what the CDC told us to do.”

Roger went out into the hallway.

The officers followed him.

Helplessly, Karen watched them go. Something inside her collapsed. It was like they were taking him to his death. Suddenly she felt very dizzy.

DeStefano turned back to close the door.

She leapt forward, blocking the door open. “No!” she cried. “Wait!” She grabbed his arm as he reached for the knob.

He jerked away from her. “Hey!”

He was scared.

“Wait!” she said. “Wait! Let him stay here with me! He can stay with me! Why can’t he just stay with me?”

Roger stopped at the head of the stair, looking back at her, the half smile on his face, and an odd light in his eyes.

“He’ll be all right,” DeStefano said, backing away from her.

She followed him out into the hall, pleading with him.

“Just let him stay here. Please! Listen! I know how to take care of him! I can make him stay in. He won’t leave!”

The police officers pushed Roger forward again. He started down the steps slowly, still looking back at Karen. DeStefano went last, descending backwards — like he was afraid to turn his back on Karen.

“Wait!” she cried. “Please! Please just wait will you? He can stay here! He can stay here!”

DeStefano waved her back. “Go back in your apartment!”

She didn’t go back. She couldn’t go back. She crept down the stairs after them, clinging to the handrail, dizzy with panic.

“I will!” she said. “I will! Just let him come with me! Just listen to me! Just one minute!”

Roger stopped on the landing and looked up at her, the officers crowded around him. He lifted his cast-bound arm and made a little goodbye wave. His eyes were full of love and compassion. For her.

For her!

“Roger!” she said. “Roger, don’t go!”

He smiled an untroubled smile. Like the whole thing was a game. His smile said to her: Let us indulge them!

She stopped in the middle of the flight, leaning on the rail. It’ll be all right, she heard him say, though he didn’t speak. It’ll be all right.

Across Gastineau Channel from the Alaskan state capital, on a hill above the village of Douglas, in a secure government bioresearch facility, the members of Project Deer Park assembled in the facility’s main teleconference room for their thirtieth daily status briefing. Attendance had always been optional, except for team leads, and most days they were the only ones who came. But today was different. This one was meant to be their last meeting under quarantine. Secretary Pritzker himself would be attending. A decision was going to be made. Nearly everyone on the project, over a hundred of them, came to witness it. The decision itself was a foregone conclusion. But they came to see it happen anyway.