A large portion of downtown Chicago was in the hands of gangs that were keeping the police at bay. Even with the help of the National Guard, they were managing to keep control of the central business district. Stores were being systematically looted.
Even some smaller towns were having problems with the population. Areas that were rural and were generally trouble free had a higher frequency of reports of looting and stealing. Undermanned Sherriff’s offices were quickly overwhelmed.
The effects of the rising death toll reported each night were fueling the wave of violence spreading almost as fast as the virus itself.
“Doctor Riser, you should take a look at this.”
Mark rubbed his eyes, stretched his neck and walked over to the microscope.
“What have we got here,” he asked wearily, rubbing his eyes again.
“This is from our latest batch of admittances.”
“Alright,” he said and bent to look into the eyepieces.
He stood motionless for several seconds before raising his head, lost in deep thought.
“It has mutated again. How in the hell could this be happening?” he said to no one in particular, “Get Doctor Peel in here ASAP. If this is what I think it is…” but he didn’t finish the sentence.
A few minutes later Peel came into the trailer. It was clumsy with all the biological gear on.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“You need to look at this and tell me what you think,” Mark told him.
Randal bent and looked into the microscope. He adjusted the focus a couple of times and then slowly raised his head.
“That can’t be,” he said finally.
“But it is.”
“I don’t understand. That's Yersinia Pasties Bacterium.”
“I agree.”
“The Chimera is bonding with the Yersinia.”
“It would appear that way,” Mark agreed.
“This simply can’t be. Do you know what this implies?”
“I do. The real question is what do we do about it?”
The plague, also called The Black Death, happened during the 14th Century and wiped out over half of the world population. It occurred suddenly and spread rapidly across all of Europe. Millions died. Typically the plague exists in two different strains. Bubonic and Pneumonic are the two different varieties. Pneumonic plague is spread through the air by coughing, sneezing and face to face contact. It is ideally suited for today’s packed world. The Chimera was growing in strength and building an even more deadly virus. Many of the symptoms of Ebola were replicated in Pneumonic plague.
If this new Chimera got out of the United States it could sweep over the entire planet.
“We need to let the President know of this new development,” Randal said to Mark.
“What are you going to tell him?”
“Just what we found and what it potentially means.”
“Are you going to tell him anything else?”
“Not just yet. You know we are going to have to investigate that mining shaft. We have to know. It could be our only hope,” Peel said.
“I’ll get a team together and see what we can come up with. You do realize it is five miles down to the bottom of that pit,” Mark replied.
“What other option do we have?”
“None. I’ll let you know what our plan of attack is.”
“While you’re doing that, I’ll call the President.”
“Good luck with that. I don’t think he likes either of us very much,” Mark said.
“That is so far down on my list of things to care about you can’t imagine.”
“I can. It’s two higher on your list that mine,” he said, waving as he went out the door.
Randal slowly picked up the phone and dialed the White House. After repeating the code he was immediately connected to the Office of the President.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jerry Washburn loaded the last case in his beat up van and closed the door. It wasn’t as much as he would have liked but his contact had only been able to get three cases of empty medical bottles. They were somewhat larger than he wanted but maybe he could turn that to his advantage.
He had used a needle to inject the tops with nothing more than distilled water. Jerry was calculating how much he would make off of this little endeavor. If he charged two hundred dollars a bottle he figured that he would clear twenty-four thousand dollars after paying for the bottles. Not bad for a little water.
He drove the battered van into Breckentown and parked by the most popular restaurant in town.
“Hi Jerry, how have you been,” the balding man at the cash register said when he came in.
“Heck, same as always. I can seat myself.”
“Sure, you know the menu by heart anyway,” he said as he counted out change for another customer.
Jerry sat in his usual booth and turned his coffee cup over.
“Well, look who’s here. Where have you been keeping yourself Jerry?” the waitress asked.
“Taking care of business.”
“That’s all you ever do. You must be one busy fellow. What can I get ya?”
“Just the coffee. Oh, some of that coconut cream pie would be good too.”
“You got it. Be right back.”
“I’ll be right here,” he quipped.
He waited until she brought the coffee pot and placed the pie in front of him.
“Ellie, listen, I've got something that some of your customers may be interested in,” he said in a low voice.
She looked down at him and stopped pouring.
“What kind of something? Nothing illegal I hope.”
“Not exactly illegal but believe me it is lifesaving.”
“What are you talking about Jerry? Not drugs.”
“Not like you mean. Look, I was able to get hold of a small supply of that Ebola vaccine. It is supposed to be a military secret. They have been giving it to the military people but not to the population. That doesn’t seem right to me. Why should they be the only ones to have it? What's wrong with us?” he asked sincerely.
“I thought there was no vaccine. That’s what they said on the news.”
“Hell yes. Of course that’s what they want us to believe. I know it exists because I have four cases that a good friend of mine was able to get his hands on. It cost me a bunch but I just can’t see why we have to suffer while the military goes about like nothing happened.”
“Jerry. Are you pulling my leg? They really do have a vaccine to keep people from dying from this disease?”
“I took it myself and I’m not worried about it a bit. I’m telling you. They have the means to protect the general population but they just don’t think we are important enough.”
“What are you talking about in price?” she asked slipping into the booth.
“I was able to get only one gross of the stuff. That’s a hundred and forty-four bottles. I had to fork over twenty-five thousand dollars for it but hey, how much is my life worth? It seems like a lot but think about it. If you were protected from this killer for two hundred bucks wouldn’t you do it? I damn sure would. In fact I did.”
“Two hundred dollars. I guess you’re right. Dying a slow painful death to save two hundred bucks is pretty stupid. Are you willing to sell me a bottle?” she asked.
“Of course. Look, I want to sell it to people who, you know, deserve it. Not just some schmuck. If you think they may be interested and are good people, have them drop by the Super SaverMart. I’ll be there in my van until it is gone. Keep in mind, I can’t get more. When it’s gone it’s gone,” he warned her.
“I know some people right now that would buy it in a heartbeat. What if you already have come into contact with this virus? Will it still work?”