The Seraphs Call - Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

‘In the news today, The Center for Disease Control (CDC) released it findings of a recent study stating the rampant mutation of the new virus would result in the collapse of civilization within 5 years.  As a result, the United States, in coordination with Great Britain, France, and the Russian Alliance, has promised to form an international project to find methods for combating this menace.  The president announced that renowned Geneticist, Dr. Gabriel Scott, whose pioneering breakthroughs in bacteriology and nanotechnology resulted in wiping out more than 50 forms of cancer, would head the project.  Dr. Scott, a self-proclaimed recluse, was not available for comment. 

In related news, the Governments of Japan, China, and the Asian Consortium denounced the findings of the CDC as U.S. Bureaucratic Propaganda.  They remained determined in their stand, despite a new and deadly virus known as Lucifer X which has ripped through their populations despite their vicious and totalitarian methods in containing this scourge.’

 

 

May 25, 2049 Stone Mountain, GA - United Nations Research Facility

The words scrolled across the screen.  It was cold, unfeeling, the butcher’s bill for the day.  Twenty Million dead.

Dr. Gabriel Scott kept reading the words over and over again, feeling the pain.  “Computer close file, death listing.”  He couldn’t begin to scan the list of names.  If he separated them into individual people, he would never be able to cope with the immensity.  It was bad enough to take samples.  It was his entire fault.  He had failed, and five years later, humanity was on the endangered species list.

What was this...?  He saw the figure out of the corner of his eye, which was in it, hard to swallow in an artificial world such as the VR simulation created...unless.  Perhaps somebody had broken into the system and was watching him in the interface.  His detection programs in the head set would still pick it up, no matter how light the electronic footstep, but that wouldn’t mean he’d have a visual.  If the person wanted to be kept anonymous, no program, no matter how flexible, could place identification on them.

He followed the faint signature.  If a man were fast enough to get past the counter intrusion measures...he would be dangerous.  He activated his tracker program, and the program image flared to life beside him, an old sad eyed bloodhound.  “Old Red” as users and developers called it alike, was not designed to kill or brutalize Interface Hackers like most government counter intrusion routines were.  His scenting abilities where limited to leading an experienced analyst to the source of a Network Intrusion.  Gabriel had insisted on it despite his security chief’s arguments, no security measures employed in the facility, physical world of Interface, would be lethal unless inescapable.

He could feel the mild current tingle as it ran up from the base of his skull--the Neural Network Interface was connecting his eyes to those information-gathering subroutines that Old Red used.  The hound shot forth on a stream of information, hurtling with a baying sound towards the source of the intruder’s electronic scent.

His pulse quickened as the as the virtual hound neared...it was stronger, definitely something.

The baying beast hit a shimmering program wall, and shattered into shards of data.  It was powerful enough to block a hound?  No chance...no man could do that.  There wasn’t an organic interface powerful enough.  As the shimmering hollow of the beast's eyes immolated into static disruption, he caught one glimpse.  A vague outline of a young boy cloaked in shadow, was evident against the last shimmer of the wall, the only hint of his features the shining silver sheen of his eyes, watching Gabriel with an inhuman coldness.

  The doctor felt what was not supposed to be produced by the sterile environment of his VR interface.  The image emanated fear.

Gabriel punched out of the system, seeing the simulated control room derezz before his eyes.  He brushed the virtual interface from his forehead, holding the spider like cap in his hand.  Gasping, he could feel the tension rippling from his body.  What in hell?  A voice, a pure bell’s peal shrieked through his mind.  “Father, come back.”  

Damn...whoever it was had gotten into his mind.  Gabriel ripped the data jack from the NNI plug in the base of his skull.  This is insanity...it must be fatigue, product of a sleep stretched imagination.  Get sleep Gabriel and the nightmare will go away.

He could not put the words out of his mind.  Father, come back!

This is insanity, simple insanity.

Glancing around the once elaborate conference room that had become his office but a few short years ago, he tossed the delicate interface onto the desktop.  Out of habit, he brushed his bright red hair from his face, his emerald eyes crinkling.  He rubbed his temples in frustration at a too late attempt to rid himself of the migraine that always came after a VR session. 

Seeing the conference table that sat in the corner of the room, Gabriel was reminded of the sacrifices those prominent men and women were making, and he wondered what they would have do.  How would they handle the fate of the world in their hands?  “Much better than me,” he thought.  They were pioneers, and he felt as if he didn’t belong in the same room where they poured out their blood and sweat, bringing humanity to a new scientific consciousness.  He didn’t feel worthy.  For so long he had tried, and so many times, failed. 

He had spent many hours, many days, trying to find the answer.  Not only was Gabriel paying the price, but also was humanity--paying the price for his arrogance. 

His temples began to throb.  Another damned VR Migraine. 

The computer, a Virtual Reality Neural Interface, which he had designed and built himself while at MIT[1], resembled a science project that an eight year old might put together in his basement.  It did not have the sparkle or finish of a production model, but appearances were deceiving, for the so-called “mess” gave him access to one of the world’s most powerful computer through the virtual network located four stories below. 

All he would have to do is find a way to stop it from giving him headaches, a minor side effect that he could never get commercial manufacturers to swallow.  He rummaged through his desk drawer for the much-needed aspirin as his vision started to blur. 

He needed to retune the headset. 

Finding the bottle, he snapped the lid off, and popped two into mouth, washing them down with soda that had been sitting on his desk for he knew at least a day.  The bland taste of the flat soda did nothing to soothe his stomach, but the wetness provided him with welcome relief.  It felt as if the pain was subsiding, but he knew medicine was half-psychological anyway.  Placing the aspirin back in the drawer, he noticed the picture of his grandfather he kept there.  Maybe the thing in the Interface...no his grandfather was dead.  Joshua had been six feet under for nine years.

He closed the drawer and started rearranging the mess of reports and files.  No one else would have been able to make sense of his organization, but he knew, or at least he thought he knew, where everything was placed.  Picking up the day's reports, 100 hundred plus sheets from the morning rounds, he began to read, but had difficulty concentrating, his eyes growing heavier with every word. 

Though he had drank many cups of coffee, he could no longer force his body to perform, and knew the sleep would come as it always did.  Working thirty-six straight hours was not as it used to be. 

 When he was younger, he had worked for forty-eight and many times, seventy-two hours without sleeping.  Sleeping was such a waste, using those precious minutes when he could be doing more research, but his body never failed to betray him. 

He slogged across the room to his cot; littered with notes, candy wrappers, and unfolded laundry.  Not bothering to undress, he plopped down kicked the clutter to the floor.  As his eyelids started to close, the many days of forced alertness took their toll on his body.  He thought, “I can’t sleep...too much to be done.”  He continued to drift deeper into the unwanted slumber, mumbling what must be done, as if his body was programmed to work without his mind being alert.  With the sleep, came the nightmares -- the nightmares he thought had stopped so long ago. 

The heat, the unbearable inferno that escaped from a forgotten corner of his mind, threatened to engulf him.  A man screamed to him, his face burning to ashes, before Gabriel could place an identity to his features.  The hideous shrieks of agony echoed in his mind as he was engulfed in a more terrible blackness, suffocating as the livid darkness filled his lungs with bitter salt.   

Waking, his body and bed were around him drenched from sweat.  Gabriel sat up, fighting to shake off the remnants of the nightmare and looked at the clock.  Damn, an hour.  What are you on these days Gabriel...first an imagined intruder in the Interface, something that was doing the impossible...and later this.  You’re thinking of your grandfather again and with him the nightmares.  No escaping--no hiding from a past, those fiendish caricatures of his dreams. 

Swinging his legs over the side of the cot, he made a half-hearted attempt to get up, but couldn’t find the energy.  The drowsiness he felt bore down on him, body and soul.  He couldn’t believe they had come back after all this time, the nightmares.  Why now?  

It must be all the pressure from his work.  Yes, that’s it; the pressure from work was causing this.  He was hallucinating from a secret deeper, darker, and buried in his subconscious.  It had to be done soon.  He wasn’t sure if he could handle both the nightmares, and the responsibility of saving the entire world.  A weight he wished no one had to bear.  Pushing off the edge with both hands, the cot flipped, sending him to the floor.

The monotonous beeping of the intercom roused him from his despondency.  “Damn it,” he swore under his breath, knowing the intercom page would not stop until he hit the switch.  “Yes?”  He mumbled.

“Gabriel, you should get down to the lab immediately.  I think we’ve struck pay dirt.”  The man’s thick north Georgia accent grated on his waking nerves.

“OK Shelby, give me five.”

May 26, 2049 U.N. Research Facility - Stone Mountain, GA

The warm leather of the worn moccasins was a welcome relief from the cold tile floor.  Kicking aside the debris that he called his work, he made his way past the steel reinforced oak doors leading to the elevator and pressed the call button on the wall.  The elevator motors creaked and groaned as they struggled to lift the concrete reinforced cage to his floor.

To think, the place didn’t look much better than it did five years ago.  It had reminded him of a scene from the old movies about the nuclear cold war, the lighting, barely bright enough in which to see, the rooms and labs all in disarray.  Except for his living quarters, an old conference room, the entire level hadn’t been cleaned since he took up residency.  The rest of the staff had urged him to move to the lower levels, all modernized with the creature comforts, but he had refused. 

This was the price he paid for his privacy.   

With a resounding thud, the elevator arrived.  As the doors slid open, the stench that wafted from within the shaft caused Gabriel to gag, choking back the bile that rose in his throat.  Another small animal must have died in the elevator shaft.  To think he had to ride in the elevator having to smell that.  

Removing the surgical mask he always carried in his pocket, he placed it over his mouth and nose.  It deadened the smell.  Stepping into the darkness, the lighting damaged long ago, he removed the special access card from his lab coat pocket, and inserted it into the illuminated card slot.

He heard the whir of the small motors, as the access panel slid open, the sickly green light of the display casting his distorted shadow on the elevator walls.  Placing his hand on the panel, he felt the warmth of the intense light as his handprint was scanned.  The system verified his access by comparing it to the electronic signature stored in the system.  Thirty seconds later, the “Access Granted” indicator lit, and a panel opened revealing a retinal scanning device.  Placing his eye to the cup, Gabriel waited as the secondary scan was performed.  The retinal scan was an increased security feature he added to prevent unauthorized personnel from accessing the laboratory level. 

During the second week of operation, a security guard entered level four and caused a virological incident.  Since the contamination was contained to the fourth floor, no serious damage was done, except for the damage to that man’s life and career, both ending as quickly as they had begun.  Gabriel felt the elevator lurch, as it began its slow descent to levels far below. 

The elevator ride stretched on, and when it creaked to a shuddering halt, and the gears moaned their final rasping whisper, his face was pale and strained from the smell.  He exited and strode down the passageway, releasing his pent-up breath.  The cool processed air masked the chemical stench that imbued itself in his soul, the antiseptic stench of death.  The scent rose in every corner in the facility, a constant unwanted companion. 

Gabriel walked this corridor as a routine, but could never except the ambience that rose from it.  Always the thrumming rhythm of the ventilation whispered in his ears, a harsh sibilant of inhuman tongues, miring him deeper into his despondency.  This place, the hell of level four he had come to so greatly despise, held a Spartan sterility, no decoration or lavishness, the bare bones of concrete and steel leading to the area where the more virulent biologics were kept isolated.  It was a tomb of science rather than a haven that pushed its frontiers.

The cheerful animation of the security guard was unwelcome warmth to cause the painful thaw of his enervated soul.

“Good Morning, Doctor Scott.”  The young Latin man ran the doctor’s ID card, waiting for the clearance code to return, his every movement crisp and full of vitality. 

“Morning Alejandro,” Gabriel forced optimism into his tone so as not betray his inner depression. 

“You look like you combed your hair with your eyes shut, eh?”  Again came the unwanted warmth exuding from the pores of this young man.  He finished the scan and flipped the card back to Gabriel, casting a wry glance at the doctor’s rumpled condition “Jeeze Doc, you’re going to have to give me the name of your cleaners.  I like your style, man.”  He wasn’t going to stop until he at least cracked a smile from the dark-mooded doctor.

Gabriel could not help sparring a jibe in return, forced, yet with a hint that his despondency was wearing thin around the edges.  “You work those lines up for my benefit, or are you trying to impress your way into the beds of the other half of the women in the facility again.”

“Wait a minute Doc.  You know I’m a married man.”  Alejandro did his best to look abashed.

“All the more happy if you were married to all of them, you mean.”  Gabriel snorted.  “Don’t give me that innocent schoolboy look either.  If the female lab tech didn’t were slacks, you’d be looking up their skirts every chance.”

“Hey man...native appeal.”  He grinned and waved the doctor past the checkpoint.  “You be careful in there, Doc.  Try to keep your specimens in check.” 

Approaching the entrance to the EVAC[2] chamber, the doctor placed his hand over the identification pad, and waited.  The hissing air signaled pressure equalization between the two hermetically sealed chambers.  He could feel the chill creep into his clothing as the he stepped inside. 

The environmental suits, produced for use on the Jupiter Moon Project, hung in their clear cylindrical containers, hollow bodies of steel and plastic mesh, calling his name.  Each helmet was like a monstrous cyclopean eye, casting its silver orb in impassive blindness from atop the ridged and segmented alienness of its mated frame.  Opening the cylinder, which held his suit, Gabriel, heard the cold click of servos rotating to unseal the pressurized chamber.

His suit, an adapted version of the standard issue, was one third lighter.  The entire rig, reduced to the size of a headset, attached to eye visors that looked like a pair of wrap around shades.  With the virtual feed routed through his neural interface, he removed the added bulk and weight of the standard VR rig. 

Dressing in the snug interior of the inner body sheath took the least time of all the operations required to slip on the suit.  Fitting each seal into place, along the augmented gloves, boots, and shoulder harness, he tested each for leakage, visually and electronically on the reading monitor marqueed into his VR display.  He shivered as he inserted the suit’s data jack into its plug at the base of his skull, and donned the bulky helmet apparatus.  The distasteful surge of metallic air told him the suit was pressurized before the systems check came back complete.  Though spurred by a sense of urgency, he didn’t rush through the familiar procedures.  Any suit problem could result in nothing less than death.

“Morning Shelby,” the speakers on Gabriel’s suit giving his voice an artificial crackle as he spoke.  Stepping into the sealed compression chamber, he keyed the security code sequence for entry into the lab.  The door slid shut behind him with a hiss, the bio-scanner beginning its tedious and thorough scan for contaminants.  He waited, mulling various scenarios through his mind on the past failed sequences.  The timed delay on the door shone thirty seconds as the decontamination procedure finished. 

If the Lucifer X agent was responding to the DNA code splicing, there might be hope for a cure to this monstrosity. 

The recombinant DNA patterns were still spinning in his mind, as the light above the pressurized door on the other side of the compression chamber lit green, and slid open, admitting him into the inner recesses of the lab.  Another man in a suit stood down the aisle, leaning over the genome type station.  Shelby looked up from his work to acknowledge Gabriel’s presence with a brief nod.  That did not interrupt his furious assault on the keyboard.

The assistant project director was a man in his late fifties, his long gray hair often times hanging from his balding pate into his eyes while he was wearing the EVAC suit.  This caused him to grumble, as he blew the offending strands from in front of his iron gray eyes.  Despite or perhaps because of his eccentric behavior when he worked, he had proven himself Gabriel’s surest aid in the crisis.  Gabriel grinned to himself, if he could only get rid of that annoying South Georgia accent, Shelby might be perfect.

 “Here are the reports on the Hrthul43 restriction enzyme.”  He absently handed the giant sheaf of papers to Scott.  “So far it is showing positive results in site limit of the virus’ DNA.  I was going to run tests on the third batch of cultures.”

Gabriel thumbed through the documentation of the latest biochemical reprogramming of the Lucifer X virus.  “This site is cut at the wrong section for human DNA; the recombining might still cause harmful effects to the test patient.”  He held the offending sequence straight in view.

“That was the best estimation that we could get at that specific site, Gabriel.  It’s as if the virus is resisting our attempts to reprogram its structure.  We have added a sequence in the F sector that we hope will compensate for the flaw.”  He took the rubber stopped viral sample from the machine centrifuge, and drew a portion out into a hypodermic needle.  “Besides, I was going to test it on the rats first, and we do have plenty of them around here to make mistakes on.”

“Shelby, I can’t believe you’re suggesting that.  You know we can’t specify the results on humans if we use rats.  It would be a wasted effort to wait for results from them.”  Gabriel slammed the sheets of the report down on the table.  “Third stage testing is supposed to be beyond rodent subjects...we don’t have the time for repetition...every second we waste costs us more in human life.”

Shelby stared at Gabriel.  “Would you be the first volunteer for testing Gabriel...I’m as tired as you are of seeing patients die from this damned virus...but the last few have died a more horrid death because of our tests.  If you don’t like my change in method, maybe you should come up with a new approach yourself, or get yourself a new assistant.”  He held the hypodermic up to Scott.  “Would you like to try this damned cocktail on yourself?”

“It is necessary to follow procedure Dr. Holiday.  The patients are dying, and they agreed on their own accord to be tested.  If you’ve lost the stomach for what we must do, I will take the responsibility on myself.”  Gabriel’s tone was low, too quiet, and all too controlled.

“Fine, Dr. Scott.”  Shelby said, slapping the hypodermic into his colleague’s hand.  “My shift is over, and I need the sleep anyway.”  He rose to exit the lab, muttering under his breath in a torrent of mild expletives.

Scott caught hold of Shelby’s arm.  “I’m sorry Shelby...we all need sleep.  This is a nightmare, but you have to understand...it has to end...there are still billions of people depending on us for a miracle out there...it has to end.”

Shelby turned to Gabriel and looked him in the eyes for a moment as if searching him.  A rare smile flickered across his hawk face.  “I know Gabriel.”  He turned and left Scott in silence, as he stepped into the pressure chamber to head to his quarters.

Gabriel stared after his friend for a time, the metal hypodermic dropping from his outstretched fingers and clattering on the stainless steel of the counter.  As he sat, his exhaustion overwhelmed him at this point.  He was tempted to take the hypodermic and shove it into his arm as Shelby had suggested.  He trembled, holding the faceplate in the suit as if attempting to rip it from its mount.  The emotion, that he had held back for so long because it interfered with his work, welled up inside him.  Tears formed in his eyes. 

Father, listen to me...you must!

The distant child’s voice again.  Explosion of color flashed through Gabriel’s eyes.  He could feel the static as the interface in his neck started to work on its own will, the image of the silver-eyed child its voice the horrifying thunder of a thousand innocents screaming in torment.

Father!

“No!” The cry rose half consciously from his lips.  This is not happening...this is insanity.  Please!  My mind can’t come apart yet.  Have to hold it together.  His mind fled from facing that urgent appeal.  He set his sense of purpose as he did many times when the emotion and nightmares threatened to overwhelm him--a purpose that he could bury himself in.

 

June 1, 2049 2200 Hours – U.N. Research Facility – Stone Mountain, GA

The lights on the EKG monitor blinked softly in the darkness of the room.  It had been six hours since Gabriel had administered the altered virus into the comatose patient that lay on the bed.  The nurse had come into the room every two hours since to take blood samples from the man.  He glanced at the digital readout on the within this faceplate.  Four hours since the first samples had been taken and he had yet to receive any notice from the lab regarding their status.  “What was taking them so long,” he thought.  He would have liked to be overseeing the tests, but his place was with the patient, to be the first to see the spark of change that might show success, or at least hope.

The wait was agonizing for Scott.  He knew the procedures down to the letter, and why they were taking so long in getting results, but this knowledge did nothing to relieve the anxiety that enveloped his mind.  It had to work this time.  There were no avenues left for further reconstruction of the virus.  If they did not succeed with this test, he would have failed again.  The death would not stop a failure from which the world would die.

Impatience took him, and he pressed the button on the intercom for the lab.  “Any results yet?”  For a brief moment, there was no response, the buzzing of silence in his ears.  “Come on, come on, I can’t wait all night for these tests.  I have to know!”  Gabriel thought. 

The silence was replaced by the voice of the technician on the other end.  “I’m sorry, Dr. Scott, but there has been no change in the Lucifer levels in the samples we tested.” 

Gabriel snapped, “No, that can’t be right!  Test it again!” 

“We’ve tested the sample six times as prescribed by your orders Dr. Scott, and no changes have been recorded.” 

“That’s impossible; the levels of Lucifer should either be increasing or decreasing between the samples.  Are you sure that all controls were in place when you ran the tests?”  Gabriel asked. 

“Dr. Scott, I have been running these tests for seven straight days, over and over again, and YES, I am sure that ALL controls were in place when we ran the tests.  If there’s anything wrong with the results, maybe you should consider the test procedures themselves.” 

Sensing the lab technician's frustration, Gabriel relented, “Of course, your testing procedures and lab controls have always been of the highest quality.  Please excuse me.”

“Not a problem, Doc, we’re all a little rough around the edges these days and we feel the same frustration.  I know where you are coming from, so it’s okay.” 

“OK,” Gabriel replied, “have the lab results sent to me as soon as possible.  I want to review them for myself.”  Gabriel couldn’t believe what he had heard.  ‘No change in the levels in any of the samples.’  That could mean any number of events had occurred and he would have to wait until he saw all the test results for himself.  “Maybe,” he thought, “Shelby might be onto something.” 

Returning to the isolation ward, Gabriel couldn’t think of any logical reason there was no change among any of the samples.  One or two samples he might be able to understand, but all six?  It looked impossible, considering the findings they had so far.  Walking over to the patient from whom the samples were drawn, Gabriel lifted the cover to the electronic status board.  He called up the patient’s vitals for the previous 4 hours, no significant change in blood pressure or respiration.  The singular hint of any event was an elevated temperature, which had remained constant over the previous 12 hours. 

“Wait a minute,” he thought, “what could cause an elevated temperature?  Yes, an increased CBC count?”  He had a hunch and was hoping he was right.  Reaching for the intercom, Gabriel punched the button for the lab until the voice on the other end responded. 

“Yes, Dr. Scott, what can I do for you?” 

“I want you run a full CBC on all blood samples for the last 12 hours, stat” he said, “I’ll need those results as soon as you can get them to me.” 

“Ahead of you Doc, I run a CBC on all blood samples routinely.  That way I never forget." 

“Great, are they in the system?”  Gabriel asked. 

“Sure are, Doc, and it’s strange.... The CBC levels are 400 times the normal level.  I thought you saw it, that’s why I didn’t say anything before” the lab tech answered.

“Excellent.  I can’t believe that I missed this before.  I want you to get everyone that’s not on duty to the lab right and have them start running CBCs on all previous samples from the last 100 patients.  There has to be a link in this mess and we are going to find it!”

“OK, Doc, I’ll get on it right away, but I’m sure CBCs have been run on all the tests, but I’ll verify it anyway,” came the response.

Gabriel couldn’t believe that he had overlooked a thing so simple, but as with many things in medicine, the simplest things have led to the greatest cures.  Returning to the electronic status board, he called up the last six hours worth of CBC results, and sure enough, they were there.  He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  He would need more data from other patients to figure this one out, and he knew he couldn’t do it alone.

June 2, 2049 0100 Hours – U.N. Research Facility, Stone Mountain, GA.

Reaching for the intercom, he punched the button for Shelby’s quarters.  Waiting for a response, he stared at the patient and wondered what this man had inside him that was allowing him to hang on to that small thread of life.  “Yes, what is it?”  Shelby mumbled.

“Shelby, you have to get down to the lab right away.  I’ve found something and I’m sure you’d want to see it.  I have a hunch.”  Gabriel stated.

“Gabriel, I hope you’re not doing this because I woke you earlier.  I’ve been asleep for an hour,” Shelby said.

Gabriel could hear the exhaustion in the older man’s voice, and knew he needed his rest, but this couldn’t wait.  “Shelby, I wouldn’t have woken you up if it wasn’t important.  You should get down here as soon as you can.”

“OK Gabriel, I’ll be right down.  I’ll meet you in the office.  My suit hasn’t finished its decon cycle yet, and besides, I don’t feel like suiting up anyway.”

“OK, see you!”  Gabriel responded.  Releasing the intercom button,

Heading for the chamber door, he felt excitement and anxiety.  A breakthrough, but was it significant, or another wild goose chase?  He couldn’t believe that he had overlooked it: the white blood cell count.  Why hadn’t he thought of that before?  Now was not the time to question himself on his methods.

The decontamination procedure consisted of four rigorous steps.  The disinfectant, a mixture of phenol compounds and alcohol removed all traces of chemical contamination from the outside the suit.  Ultraviolet radiation destroyed the more resilient forms of bacteria and viruses.  An old-fashioned sanitary rinse washed the rest of the biologics from the surface of the suit.  Only after those three, could he unsuit, and leave the evac unit in the containment area.  It was like an eternity, but soon enough he found himself opening the door to the fourth and final chamber.  He stepped through and closed the door behind him waiting for the “sealed” indicator to light up. 

With a practiced thoroughness, he began disconnecting his boots and gloves.  After stripping out of the suit, he disposed of it, and began showering to clean the sweat from his body.  Though the suit was air-conditioned, and he felt cool, he couldn’t believe how light headed he felt.  It was due to lack of sleep.  He would make sure and drink plenty of liquids, that nasty electrolyte brew that Shelby had made for them; otherwise, Illyana might want to put him on an IV, as she had done not less than a month ago.  He had passed out at his desk.  When he woke, he was embarrassed to found himself in the dispensary, with both Shelby and Illyana leaning over him, treating him as if he were an invalid.  Never again, he promised himself. 

Dressing, he left the area and headed for the office.  When he opened the door, he noticed Shelby, sitting in his favorite chair with his feet on the desk snoozing away.  “Poor Shelby,” he thought, “this past year has been hard on him.”  Not wanting to wake Shelby from a restful sleep, Gabriel sat down at his desk and logged into the lab’s computer system.  Pressing the intercom button for the lab, waiting for a response, he retrieved the medical history for patient 126.  They never knew the patient’s name.  At first, they had protested, but after a while, they realized that familiarity with the patient would cause emotional problems for the staff that they didn’t need. 

“Yes Gabriel, can I help you?” The soft female voice asked.

“Well hello Illyana, I was looking for one of the lab technicians so I could get test results I asked for earlier.  What are you doing in the lab so late?”

“I was in the recreation room, and heard the page over the PA for all techs to report to the lab and I wanted to see what all the hoopla was.”

“Well, I think we might have something, but I’m not sure what to make of it.  I still have to review the patient’s medical history and verify the CBCs for the previous patients.  Care to help me?”  Gabriel asked.

“Certainly!  I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.  What about Shelby?  Does he know yet?”

“I think he knew all along, I just had to tell him what he knew,” Gabriel chuckled.

“I heard that,” Shelby whispered, looking at Gabriel through one opened eye.

“I can’t ever keep anything from you, Can I Shelby?”

“Of course not!  Haven’t you learned that?”

Gabriel shook his head.  “Illyana, get one of the lab techs for me, wait.... Ask them if they have verified all the blood sample testing data for the last one hundred patients and you can tell me when you get here.”

“OK, Gabriel, will do.  See you in a bit” she replied.

Gabriel jacked in his NNI to access the terminal in the offices.  The faint whispering betrayed its presence before the static of the NNI activating crept up the base of Gabriel’s skull.  Father!  The disapproving silver eyes, determined to speak something to him, could manage to get a fragment of the message beyond its nonexistent lips. 

What is happening...spit it out or leave me alone damn you.  He thrust his angry thoughts at the ghost in his mind.  The half-conceived notion that this was more than a hallucination was beginning to form in his mind.

The sound of Shelby’s shrill whistle startled him.  “Hey, what's on your mind, Gabriel?  You were lost in dreamland for a minute.  Anything you want to talk about?”

“No.  I was daydreaming, sorry.  The reason I called you down, is when I was checking out patient 126’s vitals 30 minutes ago, I noticed a couple of abnormalities.  The patient's temperature started out at 102° 12 hours ago, and has been rising.  I checked the blood test results, and found his white blood cell count to be 400 times the normal level.  The only thing that could cause such a high level would be a serious infection.  “

“Well Gabriel, Lucifer does cause an elevated CBC."

Father!  The voice again. 

Stop it!  The full fury that Gabriel could manage rocked through his mind, thought attempting to shout down the being.

“Of course it does, but the strange thing is there hasn’t been any increase in the Lucifer in the blood stream over the past six hours.”  Gabriel managed to stammer out the words through his effort to block the silver eyes from his mind.

“OK, well if Lucifer isn’t growing, and the white blood cell count is still increasing, what could be the cause?”  Shelby asked.

“That was my question.  I’m not sure why either and I haven’t had a chance to review his medical history, which is vague at best, but as soon as I do, I’ll let you know”

“Start checking the CBCs on the previous patients while you are doing that, and we can combine our data.”  Shelby added.

 June 2, 2049 Stone Mountain, GA – 0115 Hours

Gabriel booted the screen visual for Shelby’s convenience, running through the lists in his mind and accessing and collating the needed information faster than any human could type.  “Oh, by the way, I called Illyana down to join us on this.  It never hurts to have a third set of hands helping us.  As soon as she gets here, we’ll get her up to speed on what we have so far.”  Not waiting for a response, he turned to his terminal and thought keyed in the query string to pull up patient 126’s medical history file.

Reading the information as it scrolled by he still wondered why they were never allowed access to the patients’ personal information.  It didn’t make any sense to him.  He was the one using them as live human guinea pigs to find a cure.  At least “he” should know who they were.  It was strange that all the patients had arrived in a comatose state so he was never able to question them.  Of the 126 patients so far, all but one had died and he was hanging on by a thread.  The bodies had been removed and burned to preclude any chance of spreading the virus.  From what he had overheard, all the patients’ families had been compensated for their participation in the testing program, but it still made him shudder every time he thought about it.  Although he deplored it, he knew the only way to find the cure was final stage testing humans.  

Father, if you think about it...you know the reason.  It was a sibilant whisper and a shadow of the silver eyes.

Gabriel found the answer in the shadow of memory that had been his greatest triumph.  The cure for the plague of the 20th century and a thoughtless gamble a brilliant teen had taken with his life to bring its fulfillment.

Twelve forms of cancer.  The deadliest carcinogenic cells, he chose to test on himself.  Injecting himself with massive doses, he waited.  Two months passed and of the twelve, ten cell types survived and metastasized throughout his body.

One chance of survivability existed.  The Gabriel Virus; a theory on which he wagered his life.  He injected himself, watching through a microscope as if a looking glass into another world, seeing the devastation wrought on the cancer cells by the hellfire virus he had designed.  Three weeks passed, and one form of cancer remained.  The Gabriel virus had destroyed the rest.  The surrounding tissues, damaged by the rampant cells, started to repair themselves.  Within days, he was cancer free.

To the medical community, he was a blasphemer of the Hippocratic Oath, to the scientific foundations, a madman shaking the pillars of all their precious understanding.  To the world, he was a new messiah.

One aberration remained.  A discovery the voice was prodding him to remember.

Look at it again...the voice assumed a pleading tone.

Reviewing the file, he noticed that patient 126 had suffered from prostrate cancer, but there was no further documentation on the treatment.  Copying what he felt was necessary into another file; he closed the patient's record and began to review the CBC data from the previous 125 patients.  Setting the search limits to show him CBC levels no less than 10 times the normal level, he found two other patients had met his criteria.  There was no way to confirm the information unless the lab kept samples in cryo-storage.  Pressing the button for the lab, he was ready to speak when Illyana burst threw the door.  “Gabriel, I think you had better come down to the lab.  I finished testing a tissue sample when I found it interesting.”

“What is it?  What did you find?”

“Remember when you told me what affects the Gabriel virus had on you during the final stages of the cancer eradication?”

“Yes, of course!  I think I told everyone.  It felt as if my body was on fire and I couldn’t do anything to cool myself down.  The only thing that helped, was immersing myself in a bathtub full of ice water,” he chuckled.

“When I placed the tissue sample in the cryo-container, so I could slice it, I noticed the tissue still felt warm to the touch on removing it.  I ran a DNA sample on the tissue.  Lucifer and Gabriel are BOTH present!!!  Both, I TELL YOU!”

“How can that be possible?  None of the patients was injected with.... Wait a minute, let me check again.”

Opening patient 126’s file again, Gabriel went to where he had seen the diagnosis for prostrate cancer.  Scanning down farther, he couldn’t find any information on treatment or eradication of the cancer.

“On it right away, Gabriel.  Shelby, could you give me a hand?” She asked.

Pushing himself up out of the chair, he turned toward Gabriel.  “Any clue yet?”  He asked.

“I’ll let you know after the tissue samples have been tested.  By the way, Illyana, while you’re at it...I want a liver and brain tissue sample.  Run a full DNA analysis on all the tissue samples and I am looking for the Gabriel cells.”

Father--the only way you will know is to walk the same path you did before, the caress of the child’s voice insinuated itself deeper into his psyche.

Shelby did not see the insane light cross Gabriel’s eyes.  It would not have made much of a difference if the older man had tried to stop his colleague.  Gabriel’s will was as immutable as the strongest steel.

“Where are you going...Gabriel?  We’re on a roll.  We’ve got to work through this.”  Shelby raised his hand to the younger man when he saw him slip the jack out and head for the door.

“I’ve got to work through on my own first...”  Gabriel responded in a dreamy tone.

“What could...”

“Don’t...you help Illyana with the analysis...I have to take a look at that last viral sample.”  His face was an unreadable mask as he shifted through the doorway.

When he was gone, Illyana and Shelby exchanged worried glances.

“You don’t think he would...?”  Shelby didn’t need to finish the question.

“On the contrary Shelby, that’s what he would do.”

The forgotten terminal display blinked in the empty room.

June 2, 2049 Stone Mountain, GA – 0145 Hours

United Nations Research Facility – Gabriel – Office contacting Shelby

“Yes, Dr. Holiday, he went through into the containment area.  Why do you ask?”

“Damn!  He’s going to do it.  Contact Rathborn.  This is a Code Victor Emergency,” was the reply Alejandro heard, as the connection was broken. 

Alejandro swore profusely in Spanish, code Victor meant one thing to him, a virological incident.  It could be anything ranging from a minor outbreak to purposeful release of contaminants.  Why in hell did it have to happen on his watch?  Rathborn was going to have his head on a platter.

Rushing to the EVAC chamber door, Alejandro began pounding, yelling at the top of his lungs, hoping to attract Gabriel’s attention, but it was too late.  The door had been sealed and the interlock set from the inside.  The only way in was through a priority code override.

Gabriel had reached the door to the inner chamber, no protection, and no sign of any gear except for of the V.R. rig that clung to the top of his head.  His hand reached to key the entrance code.

“Madre de Dios, Doc!  NO!”  Alejandro’s fist beat an ineffectual fury against the insulated outer door.

Oblivious of all else Gabriel entered the chamber, in the manner of a supplicant to the inner sanctum of a god.

Keying the handset mike attached to his shoulder pad Alejandro began screaming, “Jesus F****n Christ...Code Victor emergency!  Dr. Scott’s gone into the containment area without his suit and locked the damn door.  You better get you asses down here right away.”

“Roger, Post 4.  Copy.  Colonel Rathborn and ERT[3] are on their way.  Standby.”

“Roger, base.  Standing by.”  A string of dark oaths of both Spanish and English rose from his lips.  ERT’s three-minute response time might be too damned late.

June 2, 2049 Stone Mountain, GA – 0150 Hours

United Nations Research Facility – Gabriel – Office contacting Shelby

  There was no numbness in Gabriel’s mind, despite his outside appearance.  He saw everything with an all too terrible clarity.

Father, to find the cure you must first know its costs.  The voice screamed in Gabriel’s head in unison of a thousand children crying out in anguish.  Light dawned from the silver eyes, spreading its lingering touches on the boy’s face.  It traced a familiar outline, from a past, which he had tried by any cost to keep buried.  It was his.

Gabriel clawed at the hypodermic that still lay, abandoned and forgotten on the frigid ceramic floor.  Nerveless fingers managed to find purchase, closing on it.

 He jabbed the needle into his thigh, feeling the pulse of living death as it drained into his body.  The flush of fire passed through his entire being, closing around his mind and lowering it to an agonizing hellish inferno.  The black haze that clouded his vision was his last conscious moment. 

---

 

[2] Environmental Anti-Contamination

[3] Emergency Response Team.