The anthrax mutation v1.., p.10
The Anthrax Mutation (v1.0), page 10
Trevor had slept much of the way. He had,nestled down in the rear seat with his head buried in the Major’s lap. His body demanded rest. It needed time to compensate for the nervous damage, to diagnose and treat itself as only the human body can. But the roar of the two motorcycles who had escorted them nearly three quarters of the way woke him from his sleep, and he peered out of the window for an explanation.
“Looks bad,” Chadwell announced, looking over the seat. “The Army’s already moved in.”
A military policeman stopped the car and leaned inside the window. Chadwell withdrew his identity card. “Yes, Sir. They’re expecting you at the church. You can just see it there.”
Chadwell nodded and drove on. “Major, see the fellow on the steps?”
Thomas searched for the figure.
“That’s Murray. One of the best, but you’d never think it to meet him.” He pulled the car alongside the pavement and switched off. “He’ll have all the details.”
Chadwell looked down at Trevor.
“You wait here,” Thomas said, reaching into his trouser pocket.
“Can I get some sweets?”
“I don’t know what the hell sweets are, but here’s ten shillings for some candy. And take this. It’s my ID. If you run into any trouble, show this and say you’re with me And,” he began, halting him in his race for the door handle, “go easy.”
“Thanks,” he replied. “I won’t be long.”
“And if that pain comes back, you get straight back to me.”
Trevor nodded and grinned. He was off.
“Hello.” shouted a police officer suddenly. “Where’s he going? And what’s he doing here?”
“It’s all right, Constable. He’s with me,” Thomas explained from the car.
“Er, sorry old man,” Chadwell whispered over the seat. “That’s a Detective Inspector—not a constable.”
“Then what’s he doing in uniform?”
“How should I know? What are you doing in uniform?”
Thomas stared down at the dark blue trousers and pale blue shirt. “I can’t help that,” he muttered, pushing open the door. “It’s the only thing Morris could find and you know it.”
The Inspector eyed him disdainfully.
Thomas bowed politely. “Sorry.”
“And who might you be?” he demanded, rocking forward on his heels.
Chadwell interceded. “He’s with me, Inspector. We’re the party from Stumford.” He held out his identity card.
“That doesn’t explain your friend’s uniform.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sakes,” Thomas exploded. “Look, Detective Constable or whatever you are, I’ve just come from a police station in Chesterly. They lent me some clothes.”
“Inspector,” called someone from behind. “Inspector, what seems to be the trouble?”
Thomas turned around. He thought he saw the man who Chadwell had described as Murray. He was tall like himself, but exceptionally thin, confident in his stride and certain in every movement as he hastened towards them. He thought there would be very little that slipped past this newcomer—the prominent features of his face and glint in his eyes warned of that. He looked the type Thomas would like, and he prayed he was as deadly realistic as he appeared.
The Inspector didn’t seem to approve of this latest addition. Murray pulled a slim wallet from his pocket and let it flap open in his face. “Inspector, buzz off.” He turned to Chadwell when the chastened figure was far enough away. “Hate those bloody sods. Think they run the world.”
Chadwell smiled. At last he had an ally. “Major Thomas, this is Ian Murray.”
“You’re the one from the States, eh?” he said affably, extending his hand. “Yes, I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“Well, you won’t be. I’m your escort from now on. London’s been calling out your name up and down the corridors of Whitehall all morning. “Who let him in?” and “Who is he?” and “How does he know so much?” You’re in it, all right.”
“My luck, huh?”
“Where the hell did you pick him up, anyway?” Murray demanded of Chadwell. “This isn’t your department.”
“He just happens to know a lot of what we don’t seem to. And it is my department. You just stick to being his bodyguard.”
“Well, Major. I’ve had my orders. Just don’t try to run away.”
“I won’t. But watch out I don’t hide in the Embassy.”
“They won’t let you near it,” he sneered. “But we can discuss your escape plans later. I’d better tell you two what’s going on. We haven’t much time. There was this youngster singing in the choir at morning service when halfway through some hymn or something he collapsed. The local doctor diagnosed anthrax. Not just any anthrax, mind you but one of our sacred government’s special varieties so I gather. Luckily, someone had the sense to keep everyone shut up inside. They’re vaccinating them now. Christ, half of bloody Porton’s down here.”
Chadwell glanced at Thomas.
Murray led them up the steps of the church. As they passed through the arches, they could see the parishioners still gathered together while nurses moved swiftly about the aisles with trolleys of syringes and serum. Murray signalled to one of the white-coated medics who grinned and wheeled a trolley towards them.
“Roll up your sleeves, please gentlemen,” he ordered “Guaranteed painless. I’m getting quite good at it.”
“What do you mean “good at it”?” Chadwell mumbled. “Haven’t you done this before?”
“No,” he replied flatly. “It’s just that there was a rush on and they grabbed the first chaps in sight.”
“Don’t feel bad, Chadwell,” said Murray, rubbing his own arm. “This is Dr. Luther Wilks from Porton—the brass in all this.”
“I take it you were going to see the boy?” Wilks began, smothering Chadwell’s arm in ether. “Not very pretty. He won’t last long.”
“Last long?” cried Thomas, rolling up his sleeve. “I thought he was dead.”
“The first kid is—the one who collapsed. But there’s another one. I think he was sitting next to the other boy. We’ve got him in the Rector’s study.”
Chadwell winced. “Can you do anything for him?”
Wilks hesitated while he let the syringe drain into his arm. “We’ve made him as comfortable as possible—drugs and all that, but it’s too far advanced. I’ve never known anything so quick acting.”
“I’d better have a look,” said Thomas. “We may have to get used to this.”
“What about your friend?” Chad well remembered. “Can’t let him go roaming around with that stuff on the loose.”
“What friend?” snapped Murray. “I was told there’s only two of you.”
Chadwell let Thomas fish himself out of this one. “He’s a boy who I decided to keep with us. His folks were killed in Stumford when all that gas broke loose. He’s had a bad dose himself so I want to keep an eye on him.”
Wilks looked up from the Major’s arm. “So you’re the one who’s taken him. We were told he was coming to us.”
“Well he isn’t. Ouch—Christ, you aren’t used to this, are you?”
“I’m a research scientist—not a doctor. Just be thankful we’ve got enough of this stuff to go round.”
“Yeah,” Murray began quietly. “This is the last of it. Two bottles left. I hope there isn’t much more of your anthrax going about.”
“I doubt it,” Chadwell prophesied.
“You’ve got two more to deal with anyway,” Murray said. “But they’ll have to muddle through on their own.”
“Two more?”
“Didn’t you get the message?”
“We got one this afternoon—that’s all.”
“Two more sightings. One in the Rhonda Valley near Cardiff and one in Bognor Regis, or somewhere down there. They’ve had a confirmation on the Welch sighting already.”
“Oh, boy,” Thomas sighed. “They’ve broken out.”
“You think so?” Chadwell plied weakly.
“Sounds it, doesn’t it?”
“What about your boy?” Wilks thought. “Can we have a look at him?”
“No,” replied Thomas curtly. “He’s had enough already. Anymore and you’ll be sure to scare the hell out of him.” _
Wilks looked hurt. “We might be able to help him, you know.”
“Have you got a neuropathic synthesiser?”
Chadwell looked at Murray.
“No.“ Wilks said slowly. “We don’t often—”
“I know. You don’t often treat cases like this. But we do. And no one’s going to lay a finger on so much as a hair on his head until I have my men check him out,” He recalled Morris’ words. “If that’s all right with you.” Wilks shrugged. “I suppose we’ve got enough problems without sticking needles in this boy of yours. ’ Still…”
“Exactly what’s wrong with him?” Murray asked. “Just exposed to nerve gas. That’s enough,” Thomas answered, rolling down his sleeve.
“Poor kid. Wonder he’s still alive.”
“You can thank the Major for that,” Chadwell explained. “Now he’s sort of adopted him.”
“He’ll be a lot poorer if he catches this bloody anthrax,” Wilks said. “You better go after him, Ian. Major, tell him what he looks like.”
“He was headed for the nearest candy store. About thirteen—good looking boy. He was wearing jeans and a red and blue sweater. He’s got an oversized police shirt on and he limps. His right hand tends to quiver, too. That should single him out.”
“I could find him in Piccadilly in the rush hour with that description,” Murray decided. “Doesn’t matter, though. All the other kids in town are locked up in the nick.”
Thomas looked at him. “Is that what you do in this country—just put everyone in the police station when there’s a panic on?”
Murray stared at Chadwell for the answer. “It’s quite all right. The Major’s just got the wrong impression of things, that’s all.”
“Right, well, I’ll go look for this boy. Wilks will want to give him an injection, too. Won’t you Wilks?”
“With the Major’s permission.”
“Just don’t do anything else.”
“I’d better show you the anthrax case, first. Follow me.”
Thomas turned to Chadwell. “This can’t go on without telling the public. You’ve got to warn them sometime.”
Chadwell sniffed. “I’m afraid that’s not up to us. London will make the necessary decisions when it feels it’s best. We just have to wait and take orders.”
“In here, gentlemen,” interrupted Wilks, pushing open the door to the Rectory.
Thomas looked in. A team of doctors stood around the vicar’s desk which had been converted into a makeshift bed with cushions from the pews. He could make out the figure of a young boy behind them. He walked over. Wilks followed.
“This is Major Thomas. He’d like to have a look at the child.”
“Well,” began one of the medics, pulling off his gloves. “He can take my place. I’ve got to ring Porton about this. You better come too, Halliday.”
Another doctor nodded and together they left through a side door. Wilks decided that he was needed outside and excused himself. Chadwell dared go no further than his position at the door.
“Look here,” one of the two remaining doctors said. “The right arm. This boy was standing on the left of the one who died. You can see where the infection has set in.”
Thomas peered at the arm. It had begun to swell and turn the characteristic purple. Two black spots threatened to burst through the skin which was drawn tight over the muscles.
“We’ve got him on morphine, but I doubt he can last much longer.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Barely. You can try to talk to him if you like. I’m going out for a break. I’ve seen enough of this for one day. Coming, John?”
John seemed reluctant to follow. “I want to have another look at the other kid. We’ve got to find out more about this stuff.” He seemed surprised. “It’s so bloody powerful.”
John walked to the side door and turned around. “Major, when you’re through with that fellow, the other one’s in here. A bit worse.”
Thomas nodded. He knelt down beside the boy and stared into his face. He breathing was slowed. He pushed the hair out of the lad’s eyes and waited for a response. He didn’t stir. He couldn’t make any sense out of it. In a church of all places. He noticed the boy’s choir robes laying on a chair in the comer.
“His name’s Ralph,” Chadwell said from the doorway.
At the mention of his name, Ralph opened his eyes and made a conscious effort to focus on the Major. He stared expressionless as if his body were incapable of movement, but Thomas saw the fingers of his left hand slowly open and close.
“Ralph?”
The boy tried to move his lips, but they were dried and the very effort of separating them seemed too much. Thomas glanced around for some water. He saw a flannel in a basin and pulled it nearer. He wrung the cloth and dabbed his lips. Ralph smiled faintly.
“How is Michael?” he asked.
Thomas glanced at Chadwell. He shrugged.
“He’s all right, Ralph,” Thomas said.
“I thought he was sick when I saw him,” he whispered.
“Sick?”
“He looked funny. Kind of dizzy sort of.”
“Is that how you feel?”
He shook his head. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“Me mum and dad if they’re here.”
Thomas looked up at Chadwell again. He shook his head and frowned.
“Find ’em,” he ordered roughly.
Chadwell disappeared.
“Why can’t I feel anything?”
“Cause you’ve been given something so you don’t feel anything.”
He closed his eyes again. Thomas waited for a few minutes until he saw Chadwell appear at the door. He nodded.
“This is Mr. and Mrs. Toryshot,” Chadwell said when the Major came to his side.
“How do you do. Your son would like to see you. But he’s—”
“He’s not going to live,” Mr. Toryshot answered. “We know. We could see that in their faces. Can we see him?”
“Yes, of course. But try not to go too near. I know you’ve been vaccinated, but it’s still a risk.”
Mr. Toryshot looked up at him. He spoke softly without malice or feeling. “He is our only son, Sir. We’ve built our life around him. It doesn’t matter to us if there’s a risk. He’s our son.”
Thomas nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Ralph opened his eyes again and peered up at his mother.
“Hello, Ralph,” she said.
He lifted his left hand. She held it.
“Mum,” he whispered as tears crept from his eyes.
“It’s all right, Ralph. Lie still and everything will be all right.”
Chadwell and Thomas looked on from the door. Chadwell's throat felt tight.
“You’ll be late for the milking,” Ralph whispered again. “Don’t wait about for me.”
“We don’t mind, Ralph,” his mother choked, fighting to keep her voice even. “Jack can do it.”
He closed his eyes. She felt his hand grasp hers tightly. She looked towards the Major.
“Find out where that kid lived and get me some police or the Army or somebody. We’ll strip that house to pieces if we have to.” Thomas, had just finished examining Michael. It had gone unnoticed to the others, but he had found scratches of some kind on the boy’s arm. To him it meant an animal, and when he learned of the dog, he knew that the anthrax must have come from him. It was the only way Michael could have exposed himself to the disease—his parents would have remembered if there was anything about a bat in the house. If the dog got loose in the village, he would spread it to other dogs, and to people. That is if the dog was not dead himself which was more than likely. Thomas knew now what he feared most had happened. If one bat had reached Beckington and had already claimed two lives, if another bat had been found in Wales and in some other city, the odds were that they’d find a hell of a lot more. And they’d better find them before a lot of innocent people did.
“They’ll have a car ready in ten minutes,” Chadwell said from behind. “The house isn’t far away.”
“Good. The sooner the better.”
“And Murray found your boy. Wilks has him now.”
“He’ll like that.”
“And this came for you,” he said slowly, handing him a folded slip of paper. “Murray was right. They want you in London this evening.”
He opened the message and read.
“All of us—Murray, you and me. They’re laying on a helicopter at half nine.”
“When?”
“Nine thirty.”
“That’ll still give us just enough time to check this house out.”
As they walked towards the front arches Chadwell pointed out Trevor and Wilks. Thomas felt relieved. Wilks had done no more than what he promised. “Another one for the record, huh?”
“Yeah,” Trevor replied, rubbing his arm. “Some record. How many more of these do I get?”
“None until someone dreams up a better antidote.” He led him out of the church and down the steps. The clouds had moved nearer and a stiff wind rustled about them. “We’re going to London tonight. Flying in by helicopter. How does that sound?”
“Good, I guess. I’ve never flown before.”
“There, you see. Things aren’t as bad as they seem.” He glanced around. Chadwell was -talking to Murray while they waited for the car. “Come on, I’ll show you some of the Army stuff. They’ve moved in quite a few things already.”
