One technology company had claimed they’d produced a successful hand-scanning device which could identify deviants at a range of five metres. Debates had ensued on whether mass access to such equipment would simply generate uncontrollable panic in the streets. It was never concluded; the company production plant was levelled to the ground by explosives.
*
Lydia had felt no particular after-effects from her first bee sting and asked for another.
“Let’s get my recovery moving. By the way, what’s your name?”
“Suma. It is the name of my mother’s father. She died, I was young.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Well, I should lie down and get some sleep. Will you check if I’m ok later?”
“Yes. It is important.”
He turned to Zlatan and asked him to hold out his hand. This was going to be much worse than a bee sting. Suma’s grip was prodigious and was tightened to mask the pain of pushing a hollowed out tube into his lower arm. A kind of local anaesthetic handshake. Suma produced a tiny wooden dish to collect blood before handing Zlatan a piece of cloth to staunch the wound. The patient almost passed out while Suma mixed a yellow paste with the extracted blood.
“We will wait for tomorrow.”
“Why?” said Zlatan.
“”Yellow must find the truth.”
“What will it tell us?”
“Everything to know if you are safe.”
“Some of your people have the sickness, but you said Lydia would be ok because she had some Aborigine blood in her family.”
“Yes. Lydia is not so hot. Others of our people are hot. Some bad blood.”
“I see. What happens if my blood is bad?”
“You die.”
“Great. What if my blood is good?”
“We can give you bee sting. Only one for every moon. Not like Lydia.”
“Ok, how many stings before I begin to get better?”
“Sunrise will tell us. We need all truth, not some truth.”
“I’m sorry to keep asking questions but if I have good blood how many stings will I need? I must go back to my home.”
Suma raised ten fingers and then another ten.
“Shit. You mean twenty moons?”
“Or more. You will not talk to others at your home about bees.”
“Of course not. You can trust me.”
*
After meeting with Brandon’s two recruits, Eugene was more than happy with the entire plan. He phoned his father with the news and confirmed that he would be working in Japan for at least the next year or so.
“I expect to get home maybe once a month, depending on how things go here, but I need to pull the rug on the apartment I had lined up, at least for now. Can you do that for me please?”
“Naturally. It will only take an email. I suppose you want me to tell your mother and Sophie about your extended stay?”
“That would be great, Dad. I have another request of you though.”
“Ok, let me hear it, I can always hear it in your voice. It’s tricky isn’t it?”
“It could be for me, being the black sheep which deserted the Australian clique which thinks it is still the authority on world health risks. Brandon and the rest of us are going to have to cut many corners to have any chance of defeating this virus. One of the components of the plan is to design some organic molecule, one which we don’t really know the structure of yet, or exactly what it has to achieve in terms of specific interaction with the virus. So, here in Japan, we can’t be both under the radar and demanding information of national health organisations at the same time. We need to adjust our targeting as things develop across all continents. You had contacts in all of them with VB Aerospace. We just need regular updates on the spread of the virus and any differences from one part of the planet compared to the others. I don’t mean the dross which is fed to the press. That stuff is all stage-managed to fool most of us. I need to know about any changes in scientific approach regarding mutation of the virus, and this kind of information won’t be released to the public as it happens. However, these changes will undoubtedly occur, and knowing when is critical for us. The kind of thing I’m talking about could be any of the following – appearance of a new genus of pharmaceuticals, approval of substances which are claimed to slow the infection by means other than oral intake, official endorsement of natural or homeopathic remedies, and trends in burial or cremation of the ever-increasing number of corpses, regardless of religion. I know this might sound a bit far-fetched, but it is important, because at present the health organisations are being forced into reactive mode, and we must become proactive or this fight will definitely be lost. I’m sure you know people who know people who know some of the decision makers. There are bound to be leaks, people sworn to secrecy, we need to be in on them. Guys like Bondarenko come to mind.”
“Let me think about this, Eugene. I think I understand what you said, but I should give it more consideration if I’m going to avoid giving you bum steers. Call me again in a week.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m now able to appreciate what you went through in the years leading up to finally killing off the cosmic threat. Speak to you soon.”
Chapter 50
One Month Later
Lydia was now on four stings a day, each on a different part of the body. She no longer had the symptoms of a deviant and she was back on a vegetarian diet. She was so grateful to Suma, so much so that he was quite fatigued with her nightly visits to his private section of the trench.
Zlatan was impatient, especially as he could see no heat signature when looking at Lydia. Some of Suma’s relatives were not making the same progress that she had, and this was causing tension within the camp. Zlatan had passed the allergen test and was on a single sting per day, but as yet there was no discernible retreat of his desire for meat or his blurred vision. Lydia’s presence didn’t help.
“Relax, hot boy, you’ll know when to expect some change. I keep telling you that your shit will change colour. Then you’ll have the ‘green’ light, ha-ha.”
“Very funny. You never think about anyone but yourself, do you, Lydia? Every day I spend here is one less for humans to find a vaccine. Would you take a message back to the exclusion zone for me if I don’t make it?”
“No way. I’m going back to where I used to live, once Suma tells me I’m stable. You can’t seem to live in the now, Zlatan. Anyway, how do you know those bastards in the exclusion zone won’t kill you? Maybe they won’t believe you’re not a threat any more. Remember, these people, including me, aren’t cured – we’re just free from the symptoms, and we don’t act like these Alphas or Betas you keep banging on about. They’re sure to ask how you’ve changed from being fully infected, and you know Suma said we can’t talk about the bees. The stings are his peoples’ only hope and there won’t be enough of it to share with the pigs that disowned us. You’re on your own with them.”
Zlatan reflected on what she said. For once, she appeared to have given some serious thought to the problem, even if it sounded like justification of her apathy. He decided to pester Suma to increase his stings to two a day.
*
Although Eugene had not earmarked it, one pivotal point emerged, which could easily have been included in the request to his father, the one regarding social trends. Whether it was obvious in hindsight, or had been considered as a low priority assignment, the disposal of human waste now entered the equation like a wind of fertility.
Because of the rapidly changing ratio of deviants to norms, landfill became land-dumping. The chances of workers becoming infected from handling waste was the main driver, aided and abetted by many of the decision makers having crossed over. A self-reinforcing trend. The stockpiling of waste, literally at every doorstep, was a potent facilitator for the virus. Added to that, recycling had petered out, by precisely the same reasoning. Burning personal waste became a daily chore for everyone, a step back in time, in which neighbours actually interacted as opposed to merel
y being people who lived next door. In itself an additional march to infection.
The Japanese lab had been hurriedly thrown together, but at least it was now operating. Initially, Eugene would work independently on the primary infiltration refinements, and more draconian changes to schizophrenic resolution. Brandon and his cohorts would make intensive efforts to reproduce the capability of physical distortion he had created in embryos, but this time in living volunteers. His vision was rooted in sowing seeds of temporary metabolic chaos, not the growth of new appendages, or all-over body hair, or radiation resistant dermal change. A random symbiotic ally to join with Eugene’s procedural snip and stitch technique. The third strand, a Trojan Horse, would only be tackled when the others had been completed. It would, of necessity, have to derive part of its purpose from the prevailing trends to whichever direction the virus was heading. A trap had to be founded upon surprise.
Just how long they could cope with working eighteen hour shifts was another concern. However, they needed no other incentive than the recent capitulation of the health organisations in reporting numbers of known infected individuals. The rate at which this had escalated had eventually overwhelmed the system, and of course carried the additional implied threat that unknown infection numbers were probably much higher.
*
Against his better judgement Suma was weakening in the face of Zlatan’s request.
“Suma, I don’t seem to have any problems with the sting, so let me have two each day and see what happens. I can return to one if I have any bad reaction.”
“Not good idea, my father knows from many years ago.”
“Well, maybe so, but I am a nurse, sorry I was a nurse, and I understand these things. I promise to tell you if it makes my sickness worse.”
“I ask father.”
“No, listen, I can see you would like to see Lydia go home. What if I take her with me? If I remain on only one sting each day, she could be here for months.”
“Mmm, Lydia go with you – will it be true?”
“Of course, I guarantee it.”
The bargain was struck. After only four days the extra venom began to take effect. Defecation turned green. Forty-eight hours later his vision started to clear, and Suma declared that he wasn’t so hot.
When Suma asked about Lydia’s departure, Zlatan faked concern.
“Unless I show normal heat level for humans, I can’t go back, and Lydia will not go by herself. What should we do?”
Suma paced up and down, gesticulating to the heavens, muttering some Aboriginal request to the gods.
“No stay.”
“No stay where?” asked Zlatan.
Suma ran off without replying. When he returned several minutes later, he had a beaming smile on his face.
“You go, Lydia go.”
“I can’t, I’ve already…”
“Bodu are in box for you, many bodu, many bees.”
“Where?”
“I show you. A secret place. Nobody can see. You get Lydia.”
It was quite a convoluted conversation.
“Come on Lydia, we have to leave.”
“You still have a deviant heat signature.”
“I know, but Suma’s old man wants us gone. Apparently the main nest of the bees has been deserted. Olla blames us for the extra usage. Suma thinks his father will concede to pressure from those who aren’t responding, to terminate us.”
“The bastard, you mean stop our treatment?”
“No, stop our bloody breathing. Just get your stuff, now. We have to go.”
“What if the symptoms come back?”
“We’ll have to worry about that later. But Suma has stashed a container full of bees for us to take, and he is going to show us where it is. There’s absolutely no time to lose.”
“Does Suma know I’m leaving? He’ll be angry.”
“He’s angry at this father, but he knows you’ll be safer away from here. The guy’s a real star. He thinks the world of you, and he wouldn’t take such a risk if it was just me his father was going to kill. For hell’s sake stop bleating and pick up your stuff or I’ll have to tell him we’ll take our chance with the old man.”
They followed Suma to the hide and he looked around before taking the container and passing it to Zlatan.
“Go. Father back soon. I must be in trench when you gone.”
Lydia threw her arms around Suma’s neck and forced her tongue between his lips. Zlatan yelled at her.
“You’re risking the guy’s life. If you don’t come now, I’m going alone, and you don’t know the way back.”
“Think of me, Suma. Don’t forget me.”
“Give him a break. How could he possibly forget you?”
They rushed off in the direction of the track where they’d found the abandoned car, not looking back, but hearing the angry bees protesting against the jostling to which they were being subjected.
Chapter 51
Eugene’s call to Lyon elicited very mixed news. Julien had some initial reports from around the globe to pass on to his son. However, he felt it was necessary to cover the local situation first.
“I hardly know where to start. Sophie and Reuben have moved in with us, as has Geraldine. The streets are completely lawless now. Sophie’s district was a desirable place to live just a few months ago. But, being near the city centre is not advisable any more. Our apartment isn’t so badly affected, but as Geraldine’s is on the ground floor we thought she would be safer in the penthouse. Her neighbour had a break-in and was badly beaten by the burglar, who thankfully wasn’t a deviant, but could have been. Society is falling apart and I shudder to think what lies ahead.”
“Hell’s teeth, do you want me to come back, Dad? I feel so impotent sitting here. I know we have important work to do, but I cannot just ignore the risk to my family.”
“No, Eugene, you and the other microbiologists around the world are the only ones who can stop this plague. I have some information for you and it paints a depressing picture. Let me start with my friends from the observatories, specifically in Chile and South Africa. They both claim that temperature seems to have an effect on the rate of spread of the virus, the regions closer to Antarctica seem to be faring better than those further north. They also concur on the subject of an alarming increase in the numbers of deviants in positions of influence in cities. They are reporting that the Alphas reach a stage where they can lead double lives, cannibals one minute and ultra-sophisticated the next. The South African people mentioned a departure from long-established behaviour of certain migratory birds. Gigantic flocks of small avian species have started attacking lions. Apparently, they swoop in Kamikaze style, sacrificing numbers to peck out the lion’s eyes and then they completely cover the beast, layer upon layer, the weight of which eventually brings the beast down, and the birds ultimately strip the carcass to the bones, wasting absolutely nothing. I also took your hint and asked Alexei Bondarenko to give me the rundown on the USA and Russia. Once again we have a picture of places nearer the Arctic Circle being less affected by the virus, because of the relative cold. However, he said the Russians were treating any suspicion of being a deviant as justification for killing the subject. In America, he said there is concern that the intelligence organisations, which were already struggling under the welter of civil unrest demonstrations, have basically ceased to function. Europe is in a serious mess, in no small way because of the refugee camps disintegrating and blending into the chaos. The Middle-Eastern states have suspended oil production quotas to the West, and communication of the reason for this action isn’t forthcoming. That in itself has fuelled suspicion that it is centred on their belief that it would give the virus a helping hand to redefine the world pecking order in any immediate post-apocalyptic period. Well, that’s about it really, I hope this is the kind of general stuff you asked for.”
“Absolutely. It’s very useful in terms of where we could begin testing any remedial treatment, if indeed we can develop a suf
ficiently promising candidate. You didn’t mention Australia, Dad. Any particular reason?”
“Putting it very simply, it’s a black hole. No information escapes the exclusion zone. Nobody knows how bad things are. Conspiracy theories abound, the main one being that the whole viral problem is being masterminded from there.”
“Ok, thanks for the effort you’ve spent on this. I won’t expect too much more in view of the situation in Lyon. Speak to you again soon, Dad. Best to the rest of the family.”
*
Having parted company with Lydia, Zlatan approached the exclusion zone with some trepidation, perspiring profusely even though it was almost midnight.
The checkpoint was manned by two guards he’d known well. They raised their rifles.
“What the hell are you doing here? We’ve been told you were infected and then died.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I was infected and if I hadn’t escaped I would surely be dead. I’m no longer sick and I have to see my old boss.”
“Oh yeah, and how do we know you aren’t sick anymore? Nobody survives this virus. Just keep your distance, we’re authorised to shoot if a deviant doesn’t do exactly as we say.”
“So, what are you going to do with me?”
They looked at each other, and the second guard replied.
“You aren’t talking like a deviant. What’s your name?”
“Geoffrey Nelson, but you both know that. I’m a nurse and I got infected by a patient I was trying to help. Look, I’m willing to take any test my boss thinks is appropriate to check if I’m a risk. I have no idea how or why I survived, but the top brass will be pissed off if you let me walk away from here without being examined. That is, unless they already developed a vaccine. It’s your call boys, and I’m not going to stand here all night.”
The guards appeared to be in a quandary.
“Your boss isn’t here right now, he doesn’t work nights.”
“I know that, so it would be a good time to call him at home, when your superiors aren’t here. You don’t get it, do you? I’m living proof that some humans can survive this curse. Make up your mind.”
The first guard picked up the phone and dialled the number. It was a very short conversation.