Short Story Sci Fi

KILL SWITCH
by Edward J. Owens

    Zach Freeman stared at the line of test tubes biting his thumb nail. The entire experiment ruined some how. Years of work down the drain because he didn’t do something right. The story of his life.  Doctor Randall was going to be pissed and there was no way to hide this mistake. Whatever that mistake was.  He turned back to the analyzer output. The same three spikes and a squiggle in batch seventeen. The same result as he got for the last sixteen trials. The genetic material in the test tubes were all the same. He had somehow replicated the same three strands of gene material in every sample in the lab. Both the test batch and the control.

    He needed to sit down. He noticed his heart was racing he was sweating. His career as a researcher was over. Hundreds of thousands of dollars flushed down the drain along with his future. He would be lucky to work in a crime lab after this. The lowest and least skilled profession in the world of genomic testing.  He thought he was going to vomit. Almost as soon as he thought it he did. He vomited all over the lab counter spraying the centrifuge and test tube rack.  His vision blurred as his eyes watered. He reached out a hand to steady himself as the naseau over took him again. His hand slipped in the vomit, his balance on the vinyl stool precarious, he pitched forward and the stool rocked back in unison. His face crashed into the lab table.

    Zach Freeman, twenty three, lay in his own vomit on the floor. He knew this wasn’t his infrequent but substantial panic attacks. This felt totally different.  He slid a hand up his chest to wipe the vomit off his mouth. The chunks of hotdog he had eaten at lunch brushing up against the hair on the back of his hand. He flopped the hand over to wipe the sweat from his eyes his vision now a misty reddish color.  He pulled his hand back and struggled to move his head down to look at his hand laying on his chest. It was covered in blood.  His lab coat, that he could see of it, was splotched with blood where it touched his body.

    “Damn it...” He said under his breath and sighed a long last sigh. He never inhaled.

    Zach could feel himself slipping away. His ears ringing. The coppery smell of blood in his nose. His left hand, lying on the cold tile floor felt the warm liquid flowing around it. Somewhere distant in his mind as it faded he knew it was his blood. He was dying.  The ringing in his ears turned into a day at the beach the roar of the ocean pressing down on him. He struggled to draw air but he couldn’t. His lungs felt heavy and bubbles of blood popped on his lips and the remaing air in his lungs seeped out.  His heart stopped.  He was dead.

    Charles Randall took a sip from the water glass. He had another thirty minutes left on his lecture. He wasn’t sure he could make it. His throat was sore and dry. He had given this lecture ten times in the last two weeks and even though he loved the research he already hated telling everyone about it.

    “As we can see on slide thirty four the same red bands showed up in my imaging analysis of the isolated DNA.  This red band is usually accompanied later by a green band and appears throughout the genome. Of course red and green are arbitrary. The program I used to derive these images was rudimentary and the color values were picked somewhat at random. What the green concentration shows is a cluster of Thyamine and Cytosine. I found similar clusters of Adenine and Thymine as well as nearly solid bands of Cytosine and Adenine.”  He said and clicked the advance button on his remote.

    “Here are a few panels from the same program showing distinct patterns found in all the chromosomes in the human genome. Some are quite striking. The pattern is dependent on the matrix used. The data is read in and one of four colors corresponding to the four bases is laid down. You choose the point where the pixels being set drop down, and begin going the other direction, like laying down a string of beads. In this case the line drops down a single pixel and begins laying colored pixels back in the other direction.  It is as if you take each base as a bead on string and wind it back and forth.  A mathematical pattern will emerge for different lengths selected.”  Charles clicked through the slides as he took another sip of water.  He watched the slides for the right one to continue.

    “This panel or image is where I found the markers. As you can see the red and the blue line up in perfect lines when a matrix of thirty seven is used which is odd since you would expect a repeating pattern to fall into groups divisible by three since codons are composed of three bases. The markers seemed more concerned with the location of the same base equidistant from itself.  I found this pattern several times. I isolated this sequence between corresponding bands of red and green my other reoccurring artifacts.  I did not know whether this was a structural in nature, perhaps part of the blue print for coiling the DNA, making a certain substance  such as an enzyme or hormone, or any hundred other things that DNA does. So I became curious as to what the function of this sequence and the remaining sequence was. When I...” Charles stopped as he saw the director of the conference walking on stage.  Charles looked at him and cocked his head.  The man approached him and covered the microphone with his hand.

    “There has been an incident at your lab. The CDC has told me to inform you they need to talk to you.”

    Charles looked quickly at the audience and shrugged trying to look casual.

    “What do you mean an incident?”  Charles said straight face.

    “Your assistant is dead. It looks pathogenic. I am instructed to have you walk out of here. Please do not touch anything or anyone. I have also been told you need to leave everything as it is and walk with me to the back of the building. There will be an ambulance here shortly.”

    Charles couldn’t keep the look of surprise from taking over his face.  He could hear the audience becoming restless. He nodded to the director and then smiled.  He looked off stage and motioned to his assistant Heather Brown. She cocked her head. He motioned again.  She put down the electronic pad she was holding and came forward.

    “I need you to finish. You know the material. I will call you later.”

    He turned back to the microphone.

    “I am sorry ladies and gentlemen but it seems I am needed back at the university. An important experiment I have been conducting. Very exciting.  My assistant Miss Brown will finish the presentation.”  He smiled nodded to Heather and followed the director.

    The director led him outside. Charlies didn’t talk. He knew better than to talk.  A dead lab worker and the CDC was not completely uncommon. There were “dark protocols” for things like this. Unwritten rules made up by lawyers. Keep your mouth shut as much as possible.

    Charlies waited in the back lot as he was instructed. The director couldn’t get away fast enough. He didn’t have to wait long. A black SUV pulled up. Charles could see the red and blue dash-lights but they weren’t flashing.  A man, the size of a mountain, step out of the passenger side and opened the back door.

    “Doctor Randall would you please come with us?”  The man said

    “Do you have some ID?”  Charles said cautiously.

    The man’s upper lip began to curl back then he stopped. He pulled a flip case out of the inside pocket of his black blazer and flipped it open.  He held it out for Charles to see.

    Special Agent James Alvarez FBI

    Charles pulled his head back.

    “I thought you would be CDC.”  Charles said squinting.

    “I am FBI. The CDC is busy at your lab. You are head of a level 2 facility doing work on grant from the CDC and The World Health Organization. While your work isn’t strictly classified it is secret. I am here for your safety. We do not know what happened to your lab assistant for all we know it could be terrorism. Also it wouldn’t be smart to roll up in a van marked CDC and call a prominent doctor out of a lecture. Tends to cause people to ask questions. That’s how panic starts. Remember Houston Christmas Day? Now please get in the car.”  Alvarez said calmly.

    Charles remembered. Ebola scare and mass panic. Shut most of the city down for days. Charles conceded the point with a nod and got in the car. The agent shut the door and climbed back in the front.

    They drove to the airport.  Charles was put on a private flight back to his lab in Atlanta Georgia. Another black SUV met him on the tarmac. This time Charles just did as he was told. Twenty five minutes later he was standing outside the lab building. Police cars and police tape were everywhere. Flashing lights.  A few students here and there. It was summer break which is when Charles did his speaking engagements. Already he had a glimmer of hope. Less panic and potential problems the fewer people around to witness the spectacle.

    Charles was told to wait in the SUV this time. He waited. In a few minutes a man, about his age, glasses and going bald walked out of the building and up to the car.  The passenger this time was Agent Singleton. A young woman in her mid to late twenties. Same dead look on her face as Alvarez back in Boston.

    “You can exit now doctor. Thank you for your cooperation.”  She said evenly.

    Charles stepped out.  The man put up a hand telling Charles to stay where he was.

    “Doctor Randall. I’m Doctor William Morey with the CDC. Sorry I can’t shake hands but under the circumstances its not a good idea. I am an admirer of your work. Read all your papers. Using cold viruses as luggage carriers was my favorite. Brilliant stuff.”

    Charles began to decompress a little more.

    “Thank you.”

    “I would first like to have you accompany me to a clean room where you will be examined by some doctors. I will tell you straight up what we have here.  Your assistant, Zachary Freeman is dead. His appearance is like that of a hemorrhagic fever except according to accounts he displayed absolutely no symptoms early this morning when he came to work and passed by security. Some nine hours later he is laying in a pool of his own blood which from a gross examination appears to have come from every conceivable place on and in his body. We are performing an autopsy now.”

    “Oh my god.” was the only thing Charles could say.

    “No doubt.” Doctor Morey said nodding. “So of course you see why we need to check you out first. There is a mobile clean room on the way.”  Doctor Morey began then looked over Charles shoulder.

    “In fact here it is. Pays to be in Atlanta today.”

    Charles turned around and saw what looked like a plain brown RV the size of a tour bus.

    “We can continue inside. I would like as much information as possible so I’m going to ride along with you. Ready?”  Doctor Morey said politely.

    “Of course. What ever I can do. But I don’t see how this could be tied to my research. The meanest thing I’m working with is another rhino-virus which me and Zach both inoculated ourselves with...” Charles began.

    Doctor Morey held up a hand.

    “We are aware of your research. We shouldn’t discuss it out here. You never know who is listening and how.”

    The RV pulled up and the man motioned to the vehicle palm up.

    “After you.  Please enter from the back. Inside you will find that the RV is sectioned off. Two doctors in hazmat suits will take your temp, a blood sample, etc and we will talk as we go.”

    Charles did as he was told. No upside to protesting.


Part 2


    Charles sat on the gurney. A blood pressure cuff on his arm flanked by two doctors in hazmat suits.

    “You guys are pretty prepared these days. Didn’t take long to put this together. Benefits of fourteen years of democrats in the White House.”

    Doctory Morey smiled and nodded. “Something like that. Being right here in Atlanta is probably the real reason. Hell we are only about three miles away.”

    “Do you have pictures of Zach?  Can I see them?”

    “That won’t be necessary. We will determine what killed Zach.”  Morey said flatly the smile totally gone from his face.

    “There is nothing dangerous in my lab. My virus was tailored to deliver a designer enzyme that sought out only certain segments of DNA. If they were found the enzyme attached itself and then fluoresced. Nothing spectacular. This is only preliminary work. The real work would have begun once the delivery method was tested and controllable.”

    Doctor Morey simply smiled again.

    “Why are you smiling?”  Charles said nervously. Then he noticed one of the hazmat guys had a syringe. A standard blood sample vial.

    “We just need to know if you are infected and with what. We will find what caused Mr. Freeman's death and compare it to your sample. In the meantime we just need you to cooperate. As you have guessed cooperation is the only chance you have of coming through this with a career intact at the most and alive at the very least. Of course that depends on your priorities.”

    Charles was taken aback by the man’s bluntness. It was all fact but he didn’t expect to hear it put so directly. He watched as one of the men stuck the blood sampling needle in his arm. He noticed there was something already in the tube he drew back his arm quickly.

    “What are you doing?”  Charles said backing away.

    “Taking your blood. Are you okay?”  Doctor Morey said a worried look on his face.

    “There’s something in the tube!”  Charles yelled.

    Doctor Morey looked puzzled.

    “Of course there is. It’s an anticoagulant. Haven’t you ever drawn blood before? I would think in your line of work especially you would know what a blood sample entails.”  Doctor Morey said still looking confused.

    Charles shook his head. He wasn’t feeling well. Suddenly he was dizzy and nauseous. He grabbed the gurney he had been sitting on for support but his arm was too weak to support his weight. He collapsed and slid into the floor.

    “Stand perfectly still gentlemen! Do not try to leave!”  Doctor Morey shouted through the intercom.

    One of the men turned to Doctor Morey and keyed his mike.

    “Who do you think we are? Of course we aren’t going to try to leave.” Then he reached for the zipper that held the membrane between themselves and Doctor Morey shut and opened it quickly.

    “What are you doing?”  Morey said and turned to leave the RV.

    The man was quicker. He grabbed Doctor Morey and pulled him back into the room. Morey kicked and yelled throwing wild punches at the man. The man held him like he were a child. His strength unbelievable. The man forced Morey down on the floor next to Charles Randall who had begun bleeding profusely from various sites on his body. The man pushed his face into the widening pool of blood. Morey screamed.

    “Get the device.”  The man holding Morey said calmly.

    The other man opened a silver box on the wall shelf and opened it. He pulled out a flashlight shaped device and handed it to the man. The man pulled one of Morey’s arms back and when he turned his head shined the light into his eyes. The light pulsed and flickered  Morey struggled a few more seconds and then stopped. He was still awake but he stopped struggling.  The man pulled him up and sat him on the gurney.  Morey looked like someone in a sleep walking state. He just stared ahead.

    A trickle of blood ran down Morey’s face and a drop formed on his chin. The man reached out and caught it in his gloved hand.

    “Give me something to clean him with.”

    The other man moved to the shelf and grabbed gauze pads and a bottle of distilled water. He poured some of the water onto the pile of pads he was holding and handed them over.  The man cleaned Morey’s face looking him over carefully including his dress shirt and pants. He handed the bloody pile back to the other man.

    “Bag it. We will take it with us.”

    The man looked into Morey’s face. The pupils were twitching.

    “He’s ready.”

    The man that had pulled Morey into the clean room took him by the shoulders and moved him back through the door and sat him in the chair where the observers sit. He stepped back into the clean room and re-zipped the enclosure.

    The two men resumed their original positions.

    “Doctor Morey what do we do?”  The man yelled.

    Doctor Morey snapped back to consciousness. He felt disoriented but began assessing the situation quickly.

    “Check his vitals.”  Morey ordered.

    The man rolled Charles over face up and opened his shirt. The suits prevented skin to skin contact. The procedure for this was to use electronic equipment.

    “Vitals kit!”  The man called out.

    The other man already had the kit in hand and handed it to him. The man took two sensor pads and placed them on Charles chest and turned the hand held device on. A steady tone began.

    “He’s dead.” The man said.

    Morey nodded.

    “We will have to go back to base to unload him and decontaminate you and the compartment. Prepare for transport. I’ve got to make a few calls.”  Morey said and then left the RV.
   
    The man pulled a cell phone from his pocket and pulled his protective hood back. He didn’t press any buttons he waited and then spoke.

    “Phase two has begun as planned.Transmission is plus three”  The man said then put the phone back in his pocket.   

    17 hours later Doctor William Morey met with the Secretary of Health and Human Services and transmitted the virus through a handshake. Twenty two hours after meeting with the Secretary Doctor Morey had transmitted the virus to fifteen people and the Secretary and infected the entire Presidential Cabinet, staff, and the President herself. Four days later the President unknowingly infected every leader she shook hands with at the Global Economic Summit.

    Three years later it would be discovered that the virus transmitted by Charles Randall to Doctor Morey had passed through one of its numerous life cycles. Incubation period had gone from hours, in the case of Zach Freeman, to days, in the case of Charles Randall and his assistant, to months in the case of Doctor Morey. Thus allowing a long period of possible contamination before symptoms became obvious. The fourth generation of the virus reversed this trend and became lethal within days of being contracted. The fifth generation of the virus was lethal within hours. This pattern continued for the life of the virus.


    Six years after Zach Freeman died the surviving population lived in small bands around the world. Trade and communication was done at a distance. After a year had passed with no new infections or deaths groups began to reunite and form larger communities. The population was estimated at less than five hundred million.


    Eight years, two months, and twenty two days after patient zero, Zach Freeman, died in a pool of his own blood on a cold lab floor, the survivors watched as hundreds of ships, shaped like frisbees and tubes began landing all over the earth. The People of Phobos had run out of time.


   The War For Earth began on August 5th, 2030.

    PART TWO - THE REPTILE MASTERS FROM MARS - Coming Soon