Immortality (13 page)

Kathy increased the magnification, zooming in on the Chromatium. Details of the cellular membrane and the internal cytoplasm with its ultrastructures were now visible. She was looking for any signs of viruses or indications of abnormality. She slowly ran the imager along the bacterium, examining its nucleoid, storage granules, ribosomes; there was nothing that looked out of the ordinary. She needed to find an expert on this microbe; until then, chemical testing would yield more information than visual inspection. Claire came up beside her and waited.

“Yes Claire.”

“You need to see this… It looks like our little zoo’s far from dead.”

“What do you mean?” asked Kathy.

“I was transferring some of the Chromatium into a centrifuge tube when one of them put up a fight. It scared the heck out of me. Didn’t you hear me screaming on the radio?”

They had live Chromatium samples that had survived freezing. This was amazing luck. Kathy had every tech in the lab running in circles to prep the scanning x-ray microscope. The scope was a relatively new instrument called an SXM that had been specifically developed to study microscopic aquatic life. The SXM used soft x-ray technologies to display both the external and internal structure of specimens. By varying the intensity of the x-ray beam, different levels of translucency could be dialed in. The resulting image looked similar to that seen through a standard optical microscope, only with far greater detail. The revolutionary aspect of this instrument was that it used a scanned soft x-ray source to reduce dosage to a level not immediately harmful to living tissue. This meant that living biological specimens could be studied in their natural aquatic environment and with terrific detail. Electron microscopes only worked with carefully prepared dead specimens, which often had to be dehydrated as well. The preparation was always lethal; and even if it were not, the electron beam and evacuated target chamber of most electron microscopes would kill any living sample. The magnification level of the SXM was its limiting factor. Under ideal conditions, the SXM could deliver a magnification factor of just under three thousand, which was trivial when compared to the capability of electron microscopes which could reach magnifications of two million or more.

A liquid specimen of a few drops of water and Chromatium was loaded into the SXM. The microscope was switched on, but the screen remained an empty white image. Kathy wondered if the scope was broken. The sample should have been teeming with Chromatium. The magnification was set at two hundred fifty. She tried varying the intensity of the x-ray beam but nothing seemed to change. Using a joystick to control a 3-axis mechanical stage, she moved the sample around. Her heart jumped as something flitted across the screen. The scope had been working; there had just been nothing to see. Using the joystick, Kathy moved the specimen carrier trying to catch up with the animal while at the same time adjusting focus. A Chromatium snapped into view, then darted off screen.

Kathy caught up with a different Chromatium and increased the magnification to fill the screen. The image was otherworldly. The surface detail was amazing. She could almost see the microbe respiring or moving or something. Bacteria didn’t breath, but there was such a powerful sense or illusion of biological life. With all its computer processing of the image, the SXM microscope gave this incredibly altered and real perspective. She felt as if she were viewing a living thing the size of submarine, not an insignificant creature smaller than a speck of dust. The Chromatium twitched and was gone from view before Kathy could get a detailed look. Another ghost shape shot across the screen from a different angle. She tried to follow it and failed. She was puzzled how they could have survived being frozen. Some bacteria could turn into a spore and survive almost anything short of a nuclear blast, but that was not Chromatium Omri. This little guy was an aquatic animal that was easy to kill. Yet these had survived freezing and thawing, which was typically a death sentence for this strain.

“We need better images,” said Kathy. “Alan, you’re in charge. I want you to get something set up so that we can constantly monitor these Chromatium. It’s too hard to keep them in view. Maybe we can use some bait to corral them into a smaller area. What do these guys eat?”

“From what I’ve read, sulfides and B12 vitamins,” answered Alan.

“Okay, gang, let’s get on it,” said Kathy. “Sulfides and B12, probably a better lunch than I’ll get! I am out of here. I’ll check back with you in an hour.”

Kathy headed toward the airlocks. Above the hatchway was an illuminated emergency sign. Next to the hatchway was an instruction plaque with a skull and cross bones on it. Exiting the lab through the decontamination locks was frightening, even after having done it so many times before. She checked her oxygen supply. The gauge read fifty-eight minutes remaining. She stepped into the chamber and hooked her boots into floor shackles which automatically locked. The hatch closed with the finality of a tomb door. Inside a chamber which would soon be filled with Zydex liquid, if her feet were not firmly strapped down, the buoyancy of her containment suit would have her bobbing around the ceiling; which was not a pleasant thought. The high pressure sterilization spray started coming from every direction and filling the room like a shower with a stopped-up drain. The clear blue liquid was up to her knees and rising. She could feel a coolness penetrating the suit. The experience was claustrophobic. It felt worse than being in a lab where a vial of some deadly toxin had spilled. At least in the lab, she was surrounded by air, deadly air maybe, but it was still something she could breathe, something her mammalian mind could work with. The Zydex was up to her chest. This liquid could kill her instantly. All that separated her from a nasty death was the face shield of her helmet. She knew the smell in the room would be overwhelming at this point. One breath of that toxic mist and she’d pass out; a few more breaths and she’d die. The liquid rose up past her face and over her head. That was it. She was now submerged in a metal tank flooded with toxic blue liquid; and when she was done with this bath, she had to walk into the next airlock and do it all over again. She looked at the seams where the faceplate connected to the helmet and said the same prayer she always did.

“Please… Please don’t leak…”

~

A school fire bell was sounding. Kathy woke up with a start. The room was silent. There was no bell, but she could still hear its echo. She glanced around to be certain she was in her office and not the BVMC lab. Minutes passed before her nerves settled.

She looked at the SXM display on the computer screen. The last surviving Chromatium was moving back and forth in its little prison. The creature’s movements had been restricted to the microscope’s field of view by reducing the amount of water it had to swim in. Alan had been unable to coax the microbes into remaining at a fixed observation point by baiting them with food. The Chromatium had ignored the food. This was odd because bacteria never ignore food. It was almost as if they had known they were being held against their will and wanted to escape. Microbes barely possess what were considered primitive instincts. They sought nutrients, fled adverse environments, and reproduced; that was it. They ran on pure hardwired instructions. They did not have memory and they did not display new behaviors.

Most of the Chromatium had died within the first hour. They shriveled a little like the original dead specimen; and then, within a minute, all movement ceased. Kathy assumed the cause of death was what she had started calling freezer-burn. The animal’s cellular structure must have been damaged from pressure changes associated with freezing and thawing. The real curiosity was that they came out of a frozen state and were able to reanimate at all.

The lone Chromatium was still moving, repeating the same activity for the last few minutes. The bacterium nudged up against the edge of the water drop as if trying to push through; then, it moved to a new spot and tried again. This behavior was very unusual. As Kathy watched, the Chromatium shriveled, then stopped moving. The last one was gone.

Carl Green knocked on her doorframe. The sound startled her. He wandered in and sat. She could see he was in a gloomy mood.

“Tell me something good,” said Carl.

“The DNA comparisons are showing a close enough match between Anchorage Chromatium and the Rochester colony to identify our bug as a strain of Chromatium Omri. I would have preferred that the key DNA sequences didn’t match and that this Chromatium was some new and deadly species. That would have answered a lot of questions, but at least this match narrows down what we have to consider… and that’s a good thing.”

“So, no reason to experiment with more monkeys to see if this Chromatium is lethal,” said Carl. “It was just a dead end after all.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Kathy. “I’m going to run more primate exposure trials. I want to inject Anchorage Chromatium into some of the monkeys on the chance that these Chromatium are carriers and not the disease. If they’re carrying something, then we could get a reaction.”

“Long odds?”

“Carl, I know what I said before about Chromatium being a dead end. I think I was wrong. I can’t ignore the fact that we now have a diver from Antarctica and a whole group of Alaskan victims with Chromatium Omri in their bodies. This has to be a piece of the puzzle. I just have no idea what that piece means. I want to get an expert on Chromatium Omri to consult with us. Can you find me someone?”

“Consider it done. I think I’ll get something to eat,” said Carl. “Want to join me?”

“Sure.”

~

Kathy stared at the computer screen and felt disoriented. It was late at night. There was no other light in her office except the glowing monitor. The largest window on the screen contained a video feed from the BVMC lab. Alan Trune was drawing blood from a series of primates that had been injected with a concentrated extract from the Anchorage Chromatium. So far, all the tests using Anchorage Chromatium had failed to cause any of the SAAC symptoms: no raised antibody counts, no respiratory problems, no microscopic nerve damage.

Kathy was starting to believe she was dealing with a contagion that shared the same environment, the same pond with Chromatium. The killer might even be a symbiont, possibly a bacterial parasite, but it did not require this specific strain of bacterium to exist; that much was clear. In the end, Chromatium might prove to be a key that unlocked the door to discovering this killer ghost; but it was almost assuredly not the killer itself. The killer was probably some kind of stealth microbe, a contagion that attacked ferociously, then went dormant and hid in the victim’s body masquerading as a normally present organic. There were precedents for stealth behavior like this, though nothing quite as advanced as she suspected of this killer. Viruses could mutate and, over time, alter their protein shells to mimic organic molecules normally present in the body of their hosts. This adaptive behavior caused the host’s immune system to ignore the virus until it was too late. Bacteria also used this kind of survival strategy. The antibiotic-resistant strains of staph and tuberculosis were just two examples of a growing category of diseases scaring doctors to their very core. Granted, these examples were the result of natural selection; but didn’t nature have a way of learning from her successes? Was this killer ghost simply using the next evolutionary step in the survival tactic of camouflage? Could a microbe sheathe itself in a chemical disguise, dialed-in to match its environment like a chameleon changing colors?

So many disturbing aspects surrounded this crisis. The idea of a chameleon-like microbe was troubling. The idea that each outbreak was limited to a small geographic zone was inexplicable. The idea that this thing killed so rapidly was terrifying. Kathy was making progress; but for every step forward, new unanswered questions were revealed. She was grateful the Army had sent her the Anchorage Chromatium samples, but their action was a stark contradiction when compared to their secretive behavior surrounding the only Anchorage survivor – Harold N. They had provided limited lab samples and reported finding no Chromatium in him, and that was the extent of their cooperation. Was she just being paranoid? No, there were troubling questions. Why had the Army been looking for Chromatium in the first place? The fact that they had found the bacterium so quickly had to mean that they were actively looking for it. Before the Anchorage kill zone, she had given up on Chromatium and was only humoring Carl. All objective evidence supported no reason to actively pursue Chromatium; yet within 24 hours of Anchorage, the Army had zeroed in on, found and catalogued Chromatium in eighty percent of the victims. Their findings were just too good to be accidental. They had to know more than they were sharing.

Kathy’s head was throbbing. She was so tired, so very tired. She switched off her monitor and with it went all the ideas tormenting her mind. The room was dark. She sat in silence. The absence of everything was soothing.

Discoveries

Black Creek Village was an ideal middle class suburbia, a small community only miles from Niagara Falls. A slow river meandered through the landscape amid wild grass and trees. The development was young; it was only a few years ago that the last house had been completed. The majority of the homes had been built upon freshly trucked-in soil, on which a landscape had been carefully shaped and planted to create an ancient rustic facade. Every aspect had been engineered to conceal the horror of its past.

In 1978, this small part of the world had received its ten minutes of notoriety. Black Creek Village had a different name back then. In 1978, it was known as Love Canal. Beginning in the late 1950’s, developers built homes and an elementary school over a site where 20,000 tons of toxic waste had been dumped. The poisons were gifts from a company named Hooker Chemical and the complicity of a local government. Many residents were left with permanent reminders of their years at Love Canal: birth defects, low grade cancers, and odd little tumors that came and went.