“Unless they’ve already had it,” Malcolm said.
“And then they’ll do the oatmeal baths and stuff and eventually the virus goes away,” Ben added.
Julie nodded, removed the full syringe from her arm, and continued. “Well, this virus-bacteria is a bit different. Let’s say the kid was infected with a unit of this… stuff. Whatever it is. That one unit would reproduce and multiply into ten units, become contagious, and spread to other people, just like the chickenpox. They’d all get infected, it would grow to ten units in each of them, and they’d all be contagious — but still alive.”
“So far, so good,” Ben said. “Except for the life-threatening rash.”
“But, if the kid is infected with more than ten units initially, it’s over. He’s quarantined, but the effect is devastating — the virus is too much for the body to handle and will begin to shut down."
“The body can’t handle more than ten units?” Malcolmasked.
“Well, ten is an arbitrary number, but in this scenario, yes. Whatever number of units our virus needs to reach critical mass is the amount of virus that can ‘safely’ infect a person. Anything over that, and the host dies. Below that —”
“And it reproduces itself up to that number but doesn’t go over,” Ben finished.
Julie nodded. “That’s my hypothesis. After that, the virus naturally works its way out of the host’s system, rendering them immune to further attack.”
Ben and Malcolm thought about this a moment. It made sense — hypothetical or not — and both men nodded their approval.
“I’m guessing that whenever we were exposed to the disease, it was only a small amount,” Ben said. “Less than critical mass. It’s run its course and is now working its way out.”
They heard the laboratory door slam shut, and all three turned to look. A tall, thin man stepped into view, smiling. “That’s exactly right, Mr. Bennett. What a precise deduction.”
“Benjamin?” Julie asked, jumping up from her perch near the table and microscope. “What — how are you here?”
“I was already on the way,” he responded, coming closer to them. “When I called, I was already in the area. I thought I’d check in with you in person, since our tech communication seems to be consistently ineffective.”
Julie didn’t respond.
“Don’t worry, Julie. Ben —” he turned to look at the third man in the room, hesitated for a split second, and frowned. “Mr. — I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.” Benjamin Stephens walked over to Malcolm and stretched out his hand.
“Dr., actually. Dr. Malcolm Fischer.”
“Right. Dr. Fischer. My apologies.” Stephens had the room completely focused on him, and he savored the moment. “Sorry for my intrusion. As I mentioned, I merely came to help. Julie, what can I do?”
Julie thought about it for a few seconds. “You agreed with Ben when you walked in. Why? What do you know about the virus?”
“Well, for starters, as I’m sure you’ve already discovered, it’s not actually a virus. Or, to be specific, it’s not only a virus.”
“We’re past that already, Stephens,” Julie said. “How do you know that?”
“Julie, my job is to collate and organize information. Every disease prevention authority in the country is working on the same thing you are. I saw a report yesterday that confirmed your theory of a viral-bacterial strain.”
Stephens had stopped in front of a square table in the center of the room. He pulled out a folding chair from beneath it and sat down. He placed his arms on top of the table as he spoke. Trying to appear submissive, Ben noticed.
“I also found out where the strain originated.”
At these words, Malcolm stepped toward him, then halted.
“The virus is the byproduct of an ancient extinct plant that was found inside Native American baskets in a Canadian cave. An unlucky Russian expedition found it and thus became the virus’s first modern casualties.”
“Who told you that?” Malcolm asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. Ben reached out and held the man’s shoulder.
“Again, it’s just some of the information that’s come across my desk.” Stephens turned and looked directly at Julie. “Julie, that’s why I’m here. I’ve been sending this stuff to you for days, but I know you haven’t been getting it.”
She shook her head.
“I sent it up to a lab, and they’ve been processing it with the CDC as well. From what we can tell, someone found that original strain, put some sort of protective ‘shell’ around it, and created the ‘super virus’ we’re now dealing with.”
Stephens stood up, and Julie saw Ben cross his arms.
“But like I said, I couldn’t get through to you. It seems like Brown found some sort of redirect on my account, but he didn’t set it up. Maybe Livingston —”
“Livingston’s dead,” Julie said.
Stephens was about to continue, but Julie’s words stopped him in his tracks. “Excuse me?”
“Livingston,” Julie repeated. “He’s dead.”
“But…”
“They found him at his home, in his office. Suicide.”
Stephens’ face seemed to scrunch a bit around the eyes, for the briefest amount of time. But as soon as Julie noticed it, it disappeared. She must have taken him by surprise.
“You — you can’t be serious,” he said.
“Stephens, I wouldn’t joke about this. You know that.” She turned to watch Ben’s and Malcolm’s reactions. Both men stood still, stoically gazing toward Stephens. They were watching his reaction, she realized.
Stephens seemed to falter a bit, taking a step back. He grabbed the corner of a table and steadied himself. “But… but that…” his voice trailed off.
“Stephens.” Julie’s voice was strained, but she tried to pull him back in. “Benjamin. I know it’s insane, but we have to keep moving forward.”
He nodded.
“Can you tell us the rest? What else do you know about the virus?”
He swallowed, but began to speak. “Well, as you already know, our organization isn’t exactly swift when it comes to handling crises, but there have been a few departments that have had a little success modeling the strain and calculating its progression.” He walked back to the chair and sat back down at the table. Julie found a bottle of water and brought it over to him.
“They found out that the agent works by infecting the bloodstream, but also the air around its host. It sort of ‘festers’ inside the host, releasing particulates through the skin — likely the reason we see a physical manifestation in the outer epidermis.”
“The rashes and boils,” Julie said.
“Right. So it spreads to a human host through the air — it doesn’t need direct contact with blood or fluids, just time and close proximity. Once it’s in the bloodstream, it moves to the internal organs, where it proliferates and reaches viral titre for contagion.”
“What’s viral titre?” Malcolm asked.
“Viral load. It’s like a concentration of the actual virus. The point at which the virus will infect enough cells to become contagious.”
“The critical mass,” Julie added, explaining it to the two men standing next to her.
“Exactly. The lab reported that anything below around 8,000 copies per milliliter of the virus is considered below the danger line. Above it, the host can’t contain the virus in its own body, and the strain tries to jump to another host within range. If it doesn’t jump and proliferate there, the initial host’s systems will shut down. If it can jump, it will, causing the titre to drop by half in both hosts.”