The Nightmare Scenario (44 page)

“Richard, what the hell are you doing bringing the military to my backyard?”

“Bill, we’re here to help. These guys are pros. They can help enforce your quarantine.”

“You know we don’t trust the government. And how do I know they don’t carry the bug?”

“These soldiers are under my command. They’re not here to get you. They’re here to help you. We’re coming directly from the president’s bunker, so I can assure you we’re clean. Also, do you really think I’d bring them here, to my wife and children, if we were carrying the virus?”

“The boys aren’t gonna like this. If I let you in, you have to put the troopers under my command.”

“No, Bill, that’s not the way this goes. Susanne told me what’s gone on here. That’s going to change now. We’ve brought cushion tests. We’ will continue to turn away infected, but we will do so without killing them. These guys are trained for that. You guys are not.

“And we’re going to admit anyone who’s healthy. You are going to get on your radio and send a message that this is a safe haven. Anyone healthy who comes will be let in. When the camp is full, we’ll build more cabins. We are going to take all comers.”

“Richard, you really think you can come here and tell me how to run my camp?”

“If you don’t let us in, we’ll take the compound by force. It will be over in minutes. So, what’s it going to be Bill?”

It wasn’t clear from where the shot came, but it hit Richard in his right shoulder. As he fell backward, the military police returned fire. In spite of their better cover and position, the survivalists didn’t stand a chance.

AUGUST 27
^TH
, SUNSET, CATHOLIC MISSION OF THE SERVANT SISTERS OF ST JOSEPH, PAPUA PROVINCE, INDONESIA

R
ebecca had anticipated that the journey would be arduous, but not that it would be as draining as it turned out to be. The three-day trip to this remote area outside Jayapura had involved trekking, hitchhiking with jeeps, rides in speedboats and a small single-prop plane.

Convincing people to help her took more than just cajoling. She had traded her way by means of treating people or giving away medicine or the gold Krugerrands Aeolus had insisted she take.

Finally, she’d arrived. She’d chosen the Catholic mission of the Servant Sisters of St. Joseph because it was in a remote area, with absolutely no health care, but still a good-sized population.

The abbey surprised her. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it was definitely not this. The building, far from being a monastery, was nothing but a circular green wooden house, maybe three thousand square feet, with a water tower on the right, The only hints as to the building’s purpose were the clothes of the three nuns outside, gardening.

She got out of the Jeep, handed over her last Krugerrand to the driver, grabbed her bag and made her way toward the abbey.

The three nuns looked at her with apparent curiosity. One of them went inside and returned with what Rebecca could only assume was the abbess.

The abbess met her halfway. “Good evening, my child. You are a long way from home.”

Rebecca realized she hadn’t really thought this through and wasn’t sure what to say or how this was supposed to work.

“My name is Rebecca Summers. I’m a doctor,” she said probingly.

“Hmm… I see. Well first of all, you can remove your mask. The Black Flu has already passed through and claimed all that were so destined.

“So are you here to join the convent?”

“Well, not really. I’m just here to work. To treat people who need it. I was thinking this would be a good place to do so. Actually, I’m not even Catholic.”

“Hmm… So you are not here to devote yourself to God?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Still, you are here to do God’s work?”

“I guess… If that’s what you want to call it.”

“I see. We will take you in. Since we lost Sister Rosa we have not been able to provide the medical support we used to. Your help will be most appreciated. There are some requirements, though,” continued the abbess. “We don’t require you to join the order to live here, but there are two rules you must follow.”

“Pray tell me.”

“First of all, you must be chaste, which is not much of a problem as there are no men around for miles.

“Secondly, you must sever your contact with the rest of the world for as long as you are here. To the world, Rebecca Summers will be no more.”

“I can live with that.”

“Then, welcome. You will henceforth be known as Sister Cordelia. Let me introduce you to the others. Also, you obviously need a meal. You look as if you have not eaten properly for days.”

Rebecca followed the abbess into the mission, the other sisters greeting her and welcoming her to the group with serene smiles. Her initial doubt was gone. This was what she wanted. It was what she had wanted for a long time.

AUGUST 27
^TH
, MIDDAY, INTERSTATE 94, NORTHWEST BOUND FROM MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA

M
ike Hagedorn and his wife were by this time so sleep-deprived that Joanna and Claire had to take turns watching over their father to ensure he didn’t fall asleep at the wheel. Getting proper rest had become a problem since they’d decided to stop staying at abandoned motels, which were no longer considered safe among the runners. The people staying there were too exposed. Even some that had posted guards had been compromised.

Instead, they’d taken to spending their nights parked on small forest roads. There wasn’t enough room for all of them to sleep in the car, and prioritizing the comfort of their daughters, Mike and his wife slept in the open. Their lack of a tent was their most pressing concern, as the trees didn’t provide enough cover when it rained.

They’d struck gold two days earlier when they’d come across an abandoned gas station where the pumps were full and still accepted credit cards. Their Ford Explorer was now packed to the brim with canisters and bottles filled with gasoline and that was hard currency on the roads. It meant they’d get meals. But still, they hadn’t been able to get a hold of a decent tent.

Their story had been pretty much the same the last few days. Every morning, they targeted a city that was still uninfected and allowed newcomers, most recently Minneapolis. Every day thousands of other runners had the same idea, and once they reached the city it had either blocked entrance or its people were fleeing in panic, fearing the presence of the infection, sometimes based on nothing but a rumor.

This morning they changed tactics. They were headed northwest, to an area about which there was very little information. They were hoping to pick up some local radio broadcast with status reports and, if they were lucky, find a place to settle down.

Mike turned sharply and spotted a van parked on the side of the road about hundred yards ahead. He initiated the procedure that had become standard for contact between runners.

He stopped the car and honked his horn three times. The blare of the van’s horn also sounded three times. A man exited the other vehicle, advanced to the midpoint between their cars and placed a cushion test on the ground. After the man had returned to his van, Mike walked up to the rapid test, inserted the swab in
his nose, took it out and waited for the indicator to turn green, evidence that a sufficient sample had been collected.

He put down the test and also one of his own, marking it with a purple magic marker.

After Mike had gone back his SUV, the other man walked up to the midpoint, inspected Mike’s test and yelled back to his family, “He’s clean.”

Mike then performed the same ritual, and once he had established that the person on the other side was clean, they met at the midpoint between their cars.

“I’m Alistair,” said the man.

“I’m Mike.”

“What do you have?”

“We have gasoline.”

“Great, we could really use that.”

“What do you have?”

“No physical items, but something else you might be interested in.”

“What?”

“We picked up a shortwave radio transmission giving the location of a survivalist camp in Montana which is taking all comers. Since it was on shortwave, we think there is a good chance that not many people know about it yet. If you provide us with gas, and we lead the way, maybe we can finally find a way out of this mess together.”

Mike thought for a minute before answering, “Done. Come over with your car and we’ll fill you up.”

AUGUST 27
^TH
, DINNERTIME, KENSINGTON SQUARE, LONDON

T
he streets were completely deserted. Aeolus had only seen a handful of people on the way in from the airport.

“Leonard,” said Aeolus, leaning toward his chauffeur. “I’m surprised you haven’t left the city like everyone else.”

“Sir, I am old. This is my home. Where would I go? Also, I’ve not fallen ill. I must be one of the people who don’t get affected.”

“I’m glad you’re here. As you know, I’m not a particularly good driver. I’ll just pop in to fetch some things. Then we’re off to the Reform Club.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Back in the car, Aeolus called Jitsuko.

“Yes, Mr. Hughes, what can I do for you today?”

“Jitsuko, have you left San Francisco yet?”

“No, Mr. Hughes, I have a job to do, and I’m not planning on retiring anytime soon.”

“In fact, Jitsuko, you are. I’m relieving you. I’m relieving all three of you.”

“I’ve arranged pensions for all of you. They’re in the form of gold held at HSBC in Singapore at the Raffle’s Place branch. Furthermore, I have arranged with Dr. Chen-Ung Loo to let you land in Singapore. You’ll have to be processed and if you’re clean, they’ll let you in. If not, you’ll be given the best medical care possible. It’s probably the safest place on Earth right now. You’re to leave straight away.”

“Why, Mr. Hughes?”

“Jitsuko, I have resigned from the WHO, and I don’t require your services anymore.”

“Mr. Hughes, you know we can’t leave you. You wouldn’t survive a day.”

“I’m not planning on surviving.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Hughes, but I’m going to stay at my post.”

“Don’t argue! You’re going. End of discussion.” Aeolus had never raised his voice at any of his secretaries before. It had its intended effect.

“Ryokai!” she said and hung up.

Five minutes later, he arrived at the club. The club was still open and Angie, the maître d’, met him with a gentle bow and her usual smile.

“Dr. Hughes, glad to see you again.”

“I’m surprised you’re still open, Angie.”

“We didn’t close during the war. In fact, we have never closed. We are not going to let a simple flu stop us. We are a home away from home. And homes don’t close.”

Aeolus bestowed a smile of gratitude on her. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Anyone around?”

“Relatively empty, sir. We have only a reciprocal member here tonight. It is…”

“Aeolus! Finally some company!”

The voice was that of Jean-Pierre. Aeolus couldn’t believe it. Out of all the people and all the gin joints in the world, here he was, the last person on earth Aeolus wanted to see.

“Are you joining me for dinner?” asked Jean-Pierre.

“I might, but first I’m going to the library.”

In spite of Jean-Pierre’s lack of tact and manners, even he respected the rule that the library was a place of complete silence.

“I see, Aeolus, I hope I will see you at the bar later.”

“Yes, my dear Jean-Pierre, I will make sure of it. Nothing but sudden death would keep me from it.”

On his way to the library, Aeolus passed the old clock. It struck eight with deep reverberating chimes. He cast a glance at his Patek Philippe Perpetual Calendar to check the date. His mouth curved in a brief smile. Eighty days. What irony.

As he sunk into one of the library’s well-worn green leather armchairs, he removed a black leather pouch from his inner pocket. He took out the syringe – not a modern plastic one, but a vintage model made of glass and metal. He held it with the needle up and tapped it to make the air bubbles flow to the top. The syringe was filled with twice the lethal dose of fentanyl, or China White as it was sometimes referred to among street dealers.

It was broadly agreed in the medical community that an overdose of opiates was the most pleasurable way to die. Of course, no one really knew. Obviously, there was no one who had died from it who had returned to tell their story.

He had dedicated his entire life to preparing for a global pandemic. That had been his entire purpose of being. He had failed. Now there was nothing left for him. The world would rise again, but it wouldn’t be his world.

He took out his phone and put the ear-buds in his ears. He surprised himself by choosing Mozart’s
Requiem
. As the first tones of the
Introitus
came on, he realized that it was not as awful as he’d previously judged it to be. It was beautiful. Incredibly so. It just needed the right moment, and this was that moment.

As the drug traveled through his blood to his brain, a pleasurable warmth spread throughout his body. He was completely relaxed. He felt his breath slowing and his mind drifting. Had there been other members in the library, they would have been surprised to hear Aeolus break a club rule as he, as his last conscious act, mumbled quietly in Swedish: “Mother, I’m coming home.”

PHOENIX
ORTUS

(Phoenix rising)

EPILOGUE

I
t got worse before it got better. A lot worse. Still, it never became quite as bad as Aeolus had predicted.

Three weeks after Aeolus’s death, the rapid test was perfected in Jakarta.

Under Hank’s leadership, a globally coordinated production effort on a magnitude never before seen was launched.

As time passed, more and more people came out on the other side of the infection. They were now immune to its effects. These people were identified, catalogued and put to work. They were the ones who could traverse both worlds. They brought supplies to the quarantined zones, and they provided relief to the infected.

Four months later, the Dutch doctor Jan Lukschandl restored his tarnished reputation by being the first to synthesize an inactivated vaccine. Shortly thereafter, a small Russian team completed an attenuated variant as a complement. One after the other, the uninfected cities were immunized and the quarantines lifted.