Engineer Benson - 12. Engineer Benson - July 29, 1993

July 29, 1993 Wednesday, 9 AM

Okay. More Jake and virus information.

He's a pale, skinny MD who became one of the world's youngest virology and epidemiology experts. He's thirty-eight, has graduated med school, and piled on years of additional study and experience in his chosen field.

He shared all this with us before and over breakfast and then went on to tell us what he knows about the Knox Incident and the virus behind it all. What I remember is below.

"Mmm. I never thought I'd be so happy to eat porridge." Jake put another spoonful of oatmeal with butter, some berries, and a bit of honey into his mouth. He closed his eyes, chewing as if it were the most delicious thing in the world.

"The simple things can be great." MaryAnne smiled and dipped a spoon into her serving.

Things quieted for a bit as we ate. Once we finished, the kids took the dishes to the kitchen. I swear, they just know when the adults need to talk, and they left us to it.

Our expectant eyes were not lost on Jake. He straightened in his chair. "I told you some, and I promised the rest. So here we go." He took a breath like he was preparing himself. "After schooling, I quickly got a position with the UKSHA - the United Kingdom Health Security Agency. It mostly parallels your CDC here." He took a sip of water and continued. "I know it seems silly to start there, but you need to understand how I ended here, and that's a part of it."

"It's yer story," Buck said. "Tell it how ya like."

"Thank you." Jake's eyes narrowed as he thought. "My specific field is viral biomechanics. As in, how different viruses physically alter cells to do what it is they do. You can probably imagine there aren't many people focused on this aspect of virology and medicine."

"Right." Mark tapped his foot. "How'd you end up here?"

"General McGrew." Jake nodded. "He reached out to the CDC, who then contacted UKSHA. I had worked with the CDC on a problem a few years back in Raleigh, North Carolina, and they remembered me. They called a couple of months ago, ah, in late May. I was first sent to the CDC, where I helped your scientists work with samples we'd been provided, but there was only so much we could do with in-vitro samples. We needed in-vivo cases."

"He means studyin' the stuff in a test tube wasn't cuttin' it, an' he needed to see how the virus worked in a live person," Buck translated the geekspeak.

"Yes. Yes, exactly." Jake nodded approvingly. "Even the in-vitro samples were … concerning. It's an RNA virus, but its complexity is incredible. Initial PCR testing told us it has long, unbroken genetic sequences seen only in slime molds, plasmid production genes from bacteria, rabies virus genes, and even portions of fungal genes." He frowned. "It's a chimera of kingdoms, missing only animal, protist, and plant genes."

By this time, the kids had finished the dishes and joined us. Lisa, in particular, seemed fascinated by Jake's description.

"Plasmids?" Lisa's brow furrowed. "Don't bacteria use those to exchange genes?"

Everyone looked at her, and she blushed. "I … I like science."

"Yes!" Jake became animated. "Yes, and that's the most concerning thing. This virus infects a cell, hijacking the machinery within to force it to produce copies of itself and plasmids. We found several plasmids, but … one kept me up at night." Jake unconsciously shivered. "One of the plasmids the body is forced to produce carries cellular instructions for our neurons. The brain, spinal cord, and nerves. Their confirmation, ah, their shape, tricks neurons into accepting them. Once inside a neuron, they insert themselves into the cell's DNA."

He took a deep breath. "After that, that cell changes how it responds to dopamine. It's why all patients reported feeling "doomed" some time after infection. This has a cascading effect on many bodily systems. Once enough cells are infected, along with all of the other effects of the virus, the person cannot fight it off, and they die from organ failure and high fever. We still don't understand how, but after a short dormancy, these cells all reawaken." Jake sat back in his chair. "But the person is gone. What remains is far more limited than a human. It's something that knows only instinct, hunger, and aggression."

He blinked. "Ah, apologies. Let me back up. The General refused requests to transport infected patients, so the CDC sent me along with a small team here. Upon arrival, we were taken to, ah, a facility." He hesitated.

"In Louisville?" Mark asked.

Jake visibly struggled. "N… no." He shook his head. "No. I'd probably have been in Louisville when everything fell apart had that been the case." Coming to some decision, he proceeded. "There is a top-secret facility deep in the woods near this town. Your military would probably court-martial me for telling you this, but I don't think the military even exists anymore." He glanced around. "That's where I did my work. That's where I tried to limit this disease's impact through a massive airborne inoculation effort."

Something clicked in my head. "The smell. Are you talking about that god-awful smell that started a few weeks before the exclusion zone declaration?"

"Yes. The airborne strain has an infection and mortality rate approaching 100%. Only about one in two or three hundred survive it without help, and those survivors run in families. Those people have a genetic quirk that prevents the runaway dopamine effects from the plasmid. It's not enough to protect them if they're bitten - there's just too much virus in saliva, but they will survive the airborne virus." Jake rubbed his hands. "My job wasn't necessarily to create a cure - we didn't have time for that. My job was to devise a way to innoculate people against the airborne strain." He frowned. "It wasn't ready, but the General insisted we begin production and then release my inoculation. Unfortunately, it had quite the odor. But worse, it wasn't 100% effective. My estimates put effectiveness around fifty percent, decreasing with distance from Rosewood. The furthest it reached was Louisville to the north and Irvington to the west - about a fifteen-kilometer radius, depending heavily on prevailing winds."

He shook his head. "We'd planned to mass produce and distribute the inoculation." Jake shrugged. "We ran out of time. Too many troops from out of the area were brought in with little or no exposure to the inoculation. Too many of the soldiers fell ill; I know now that it took weeks of exposure to build immunity. Even with my work trying to protect them, almost all succumbed."

"So." Erin cocked her head. "Where did this thing come from? It sounds like the army knew a lot about it; did they start this with some lab accident?"

"I truly don't know." Jake steepled his fingers before his nose and put his chin on his thumbs. "I don't know of a technology elegant and complex enough to produce such a virus. But its patchwork nature points to mankind's meddling. I can't imagine nature doing this, but we also live in a world where a billed, furry marsupial swims in streams in Australia, lays eggs and produces milk, so maybe I'm wrong. Regardless, the army knew the virus existed and what would become of those infected. What they didn't know was how hard it would be to stop that process once it began. The great sin John McGrew committed was his faith that we could stop or even cure it, and thus, he assumed no one needed to know how serious the threat was."

"Wait," Buck said. "Yer tellin' us, outside of our little spot, here in Knox county an' the area directly around us, that only one in two or three hundred survived the airborne virus? Is that what yer sayin'?

"Yes." Jake nodded solemnly. "That's right. Most of the world is either infected or in the process of it. I talked the general into bringing every soldier that had even a chance of being exposed back to Knox County, but it was too late. In the week or so before symptoms appeared, they passed the virus to everyone they had contacted. The US military has bases worldwide, and before we knew this was loose, many of the soldiers here were on leave or deployed in other locations. They infected family, friends, other soldiers, and locals wherever they were - this was a superspreader event on a global scale. There was no chance of containing it by the time we knew it was out there."

"My god." MaryAnne put a hand over her mouth. "Imagine bein' one of those families immune, an' watching everyone you know get sick an' turn into those horrible things."

"Yeah." I nodded. "And unless they're an exceptional or incredibly lucky family, they'd not have a chance once that happened. Especially in cities."

"Yes." Jake pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Urban areas are of particular concern. Locally, Louisville, Irvington, Brandenburg, and even Muldraugh will have a staggeringly high number of infected."

While we considered that, he cleared his throat. "I know your priorities are immediate survival, and I don't have much I can contribute to that. But I impose upon your kindness to allow me to stay. I am not exaggerating when I say I may be the only person left in the world who has any chance of curing this." He straightened. "And I am not above menial labor. I will do whatever is asked of me without complaint."

"Hmm." Buck nudged his chair with a boot. "Didn't ya say ya went to med school? Aren't you a doctor? We could use somebody like that."

Jake paled. "Ah, I've not touched a patient apart from collecting samples and performing exams since residency. I went straight into my secondary training as soon as--"

"Well, you'll just have ta remember yer schoolin'." Buck motioned at us. "What do y'all think? Do we take in a doctor who has never doctored before?"

Mark raised his hand, followed shortly by myself. Everyone else agreed as well. None of us want to toss the man out to fend for himself, and he is right. If anybody has a shot at fixing this, it's probably him.

So, now basic medical equipment has gone onto our list of items we need to look out for. Jake has started on his "wish list" for research equipment, but there's no way our little electrical system can handle the load from an MRI machine, centrifuges, PCR analyzers, and whatever else he needs for his research. That's not even considering how we'd move such beasts. But once I have his list, I can figure out minimum power needs and work backward. Though, it'd be simpler if we could just power this base he talked about.

You know. Fight our way through a zombie-infested top-secret base in the middle of the woods, somehow get the on-site generators fueled and running, troubleshoot and repair any damaged equipment needed for his research, and hold the place while Jake does his thing over who knows how long of a timespan.

Yeah. Simple. Hah.

That's a problem for another day. We're finally getting started on our cabin. We've got some extra logs we felled from our first logging attempt, and we have the concrete needed for the foundation. That means it's time to break out Garrett's book and get to work.

Speaking of which, Mark just asked if I was ready.

Till next time.

July 30, 1993 Thursday, 6 AM

Holy shit. I am so sore. Ah, god. Mark is going to rub my back and legs, and I've been ordered to do the same to him once he's done with me. Back later.

July 30, 1993 Thursday, 915 AM

Yesterday, we made great progress on the cabin. We set a strong foundation of stones in concrete, building up two feet off the ground. If nothing else, that little place will be a fortress. There are plenty of rocks to use piled just outside of our fence like little stony monuments. Buck says it's from generations past digging and moving them out of the way for planting and gardens. Most are flat on at least two sides, meaning they are easy to build with.

We have a wheelbarrow, and we used it, but lifting and shifting all that rock took a toll on us. We're all pretty damn stiff and sore today, Buck more than us. He forgets he's over fifty now, and this was a rough reminder.

"You need an analgesic." Jake offered as Buck slowly rose from the table after breakfast. "I took some, and it helped. Acetomephin or Ibuprofen would work well, and we have both."

"Heh." Buck leaned heavily on the chair in front of him. "Don't wanna waste our supply on this. It won't last forever." With a grimace, he straightened. "Ooof. I'll be fine."

"You'll follow me to my trailer, an' we'll work on you some." Mary Anne wiped her mouth and picked up her bowl. "I did a bit of massage when I was tryin' to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up, an' you could probably use a rub."

"It helped Wayne and me." Mark offered. "We traded off this morning before we got up."

Jake looked at us, assessing. Then he nodded. "Yes, massage would help, too. You need to break up the lactic acid in the muscles and flush it out of the body with increased water intake."

"Thanks, professor." Buck stretched and winced. "Okay, Mary Anne. I'll take ya up on it."

Mary Anne has him in her trailer and is rubbing the stiffness out of his back while the rest of us are headed out to start on the log walls. The concrete mortar we used on the foundation stones has set enough to take the weight now so we will get started.

I'm excited. I've never built a house, but Buck has. And Erin was part of a few barn-raisings, so we've got people here with construction experience. Along with Garrett's books, we'll make something nice. And once we get this one built, we'll start on Garrett's tower. He'll have his own place and be able to keep watch over the surrounding area.

Okay, we've got a lot to do, so we'll get to it. Till next time.

July 31, 1993 Friday, 4 PM

We've used up the logs we had already cut and made great progress on the cabin. There are six courses of logs, tightly notched and put into place, so there's only a small gap between each log. We worked around the planned door and windows, too. It's so satisfying to see it slowly rise from the ground.

But now we need another logging session. We plan to be strategic about it, leaving certain trees so we can use them as living fence posts for the chain link fencing in town later. We could have a huge fenced-in area attached to our current base that'd be relatively safe. We could do a hell of a lot of gardening then. Enough to feed us all year if we plant the right crops. We've got plenty of seeds from our trips to the store, too. The only obstacle is making it safe enough to do it.

That's still a concern. The sound of our chopping out notches for the logs attracted some attention.

"Four." Lisa squinted and leaned forward in the makeshift sling seat in her tree. "No, five."

Mark, Buck, Erin, and I went out while Garrett climbed a little tower we'd built inside the fence. He nocked an arrow and watched until they closed within about fifty feet. Then he drew the bow.

That boy is something else. He dropped three seemingly without effort and barely any sound other than the twang of the bow. The fourth wore a football helmet, and number five had one issued by the army, so they required some up close and personal handling.

Buck easily knocked one down with a massive swing from his bat, and Mark ended it with a well-placed knife strike under the protection of the football helmet. The other Erin pinned to a tree with her spear, holding it in place while I finished it with an axe strike to the exposed neck.

It was an efficient and largely quiet operation.

"Good job." Buck nodded at us and gave Garrett a little salute, eliciting a grin from the young man peeking over the fence. "Let's check 'em out."

Their IDs all had addresses in March Ridge, to the south and east of us. It was mainly a military town, with lots of housing for the troops working on our nearby bases. None appeared to be military themselves, though.

"Civilians who raided a barracks or an apartment of a soldier maybe." Mark held a long, dark combat knife that almost exactly matched his. He'd removed it from the hip of one of the two women zombies in the group. They were uninjured before meeting us, so they must have succumbed to the virus a few days into the Knox Event.

We took everything functional, including a stuffed backpack with a tent, two sleeping bags, water purification tablets, twine, rope, a fire-starting kit, six freeze-dried rations (MREs), and more inside. We then dragged them away to the treeline and left them. I wish we had time to bury everyone, but we simply don't. So, we put them out of sight and far enough away to avoid contaminating our well water.

We've started doing something new—we kept their IDs. That was Mister Buck's idea. He'd said, "These were once folks that were loved. We can at least give others closure if we run into living people wonderin' after their friends and kin."

That feels good and right. It feels … human. We'll try to collect them, even from the ones we've already handled, and put them into a photo album we found here. Lisa has offered to alphabetize and organize them. Yeah. That's the human thing to do.

After dealing with that, we finished using the logs and setting them in place on the cabin. We're getting the hang of it, and the sixth course went twice as fast as the first. Once we log enough trees to finish the building, debark, and prep them, we can complete the walls in a couple of days—not counting windows, the door, and chinking the gaps. Still, it will move quickly.

That's a good thing. Trying to keep quiet this morning after Mark's backrub evolved into him eagerly screwing me was a monumental effort. The couch is not far from the bedrooms, and the looks from Jake told me we were not entirely successful. Ah well. He doesn't like it, he can try life outside the fence. To be fair, he didn't seem put out or angry. It's more like a man processing information he didn't know before.

We have other things to worry about, like that cabin. Before doing much else, we need to build the walls and raise the cabin roof to mount more solar panels. After the roof is on and the panels mounted, we can start making it weather-tight and then get to the finish work.

True to his word, Jake pitched in during the cabin build. He's pretty weak and tires easily, so his assistance was limited, but he tried. And he did so without complaint or having to be asked. The guy is supposed to be smart, right? He knows he needs us, so he is doing his best to pull his weight.

Mark and Buck watched him a bit as he struggled with the end of a smaller log, and they agreed that Jake needs some physical fitness in his life. I don't know if he realizes this, but Doctor Jake is about to participate in Mark's morning calisthenics class. It'll be a bonding experience since he'll suffer with the rest of us. Hah! Admittedly, we've all noticed a difference in our fitness—particularly the cardiovascular aspect.

We're done working for the day, and I'm sitting on the couch. A dinner of soup made from various things we scrounged is bubbling away on the antique stove. I think there's some ground beef we found at the back of the freezer, wild garlic gathered by Garrett and his sister, dandelion roots and greens from the yard, the last of our cattail tubers, and some ramps Mister Buck spied after we had dealt with the zombies. We've got plenty of bouillon cubes from the store, so a couple of those went in, too.

The ladies made fresh cornbread that's cooling on the table. A stick of butter is beside it, softening in the warm kitchen. The smells in here are torture to a crew that has worked hard all day.

Jake is hovering around and has asked if he could help with dinner twice now. I think the man is hungry. Me too, Jake. Me too.

Speaking of which, it's time to eat. Till next time.