The Ides of March, as I like to call the month, were upon us. Once in a
while the sun peered through the heavy clouds, sliding its pale beams
between their tumbling banks to reach the soggy earth. Then came a
night of rain, of heavy wind and thrashing trees; a faint rumbling of
thunder over the sea and the mountains. I woke up and lay listening to
the water as it dripped on the balcony while Pat, in troubled sleep,
muttered and moved beside me. I woke again to a bright, cloudless sky,
a perfect spring day.
After the routine checking of our animals and cultures, Dr. Hallam
called a halt.
"Pat, you're tired," he said. "I think you're going stale."
"I'm slowed to a walk. It must be spring fever."
"It's spring all right," I said. "Look at that beautiful sunshine. It's
time to shuck off the long woollies and take a big dose of sulphur and
molasses."
"What a horrible thought," Pat grimaced, "Did you ever taste it?"
"I sure did," I said. "My mother was the old-fashioned
castor-oil-is-good-for-you type. She thought I needed a tonic to get
the sap running every spring."
"The sap can run again ... right out to Stanley Park," Hallam grinned,
"and take Pat with you. She needs a rest and some fresh air. I'm going
to play golf. We'll start again tomorrow."
We had reached a lull in our experiments. It was the obvious time for a
break.
* * * * *
I drove slowly through the park until, in a grassy enclosure not far
from Brockton Point, we found the seclusion we wanted. In midweek, at
that time of day, we had the place almost to ourselves. I put down a
ground-sheet, opened the car blanket on it, and we lay down. The mild
sea breeze rustled soothingly in my ears and brought with it the faint
splashing of the tide against the jumbled boulders of the shore. A
deep sea ship hooted at the Lion's Gate bridge and, like an echo, the
answering call gave it clearance to pass. For a moment more I lay still
but the bustle of life around me was too strong to allow relaxation
and I sat up to look out over the harbor. I turned to Pat as she lay
quietly beside me. The wind had settled her dress closely to her parted
legs. I followed the clean lines upward, and when I got to her eyes I
saw that she had been watching me. They sparkled with amusement.
"Like what you see, huh?" she teased me.
"Love it, darling," I replied and leaned over for a kiss.
She broke it off before I was through and as I backed away I saw the
slight frown that deepened the lines above her nose.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing much, I hope. A slight pain in my stomach." She used the word
in the ordinary sense.
"Whereabouts?"
"Low down above the pubis. It's gone now."
I laid my hand on the lower part of her belly and palpated it softly.
There was no rigidity, no unusual mass.
"Does that hurt?" I probed deeper.
"No, it's a little uncomfortable, that's all."
I thought momentarily of the various possibilities and then dismissed
it. The day was too lovely to spoil with a clinical discussion.
"Something you ate, no doubt." I smiled at her and lowered my mouth to
touch her full red lips gently, once again.
She pushed me away. "That's enough. This place is too public."
I studied the bold contour of her nose and concluded that it was
too large for true beauty ... the French influence, no doubt, in her
Louisiana heritage. Her attractiveness was in her expressions more than
in physical structure, I decided, but the mouth was perfect, no doubt
about that, and her grey eyes as clear as a mountain pool filtered
through limestone. I snuggled close to her, contentedly, and was
beginning to doze in the fresh warmth of the springtime air when I felt
her body tighten. I opened my eyes and rested on one elbow, watching
her.
"What is it baby, the pain again?"
"Yes, it's crampy now ... something like a bad period," she twisted a
little.
"Is it that time of the month again?"
"It could be. I've been having odd periods, very slight flow. I thought
I might possibly be pregnant. It's been that way since I seduced you in
December."
"That wasn't seduction, baby. That was merely anticipating the
inevitable."
I began to question her seriously. There was little doubt in my mind
after a few minutes that, if she wasn't pregnant, she was not behaving
as a normal woman should. While we talked the pain returned, cramping
and severe. She went white and pressed her hands to her belly in
search of relief. That ruined the day. I took her home immediately.
* * * * *
"Take your clothes off and lie on the bed. I want to examine you," I
said when we got there.
When I had finished there wasn't much doubt. She was about three months
pregnant and threatening to abort. I left her in bed while I washed
my hands. Then I came back and told her. For a moment she tried to be
brave but then the tears came and I held her tight while her sobs shook
us both.
"I've been afraid something might happen," she said finally, after I'd
wiped off her wet face with a towel.
I sat on the edge of the bed. "Why?"
"You know I've been working with female ferrets, infected from the
original one that aborted, trying to find out if that virus was a
mutant from the S-Flu."
"Yes, I know that."
"I've passed it through quite a few females now and it's been showing
definite differences. A week ago, I transferred it again and the
ferrets got sick. I was working with one three days ago and it got
loose and jumped on my shoulder and sneezed and clawed me as I tried to
get it down and put it back in its cage."
"You had your suit on, didn't you?"
"Of course I did, but after I came out of the shower I noticed a
little dampness. I checked the suit and found a defective shoulder seam
where the helmet joins on. I suppose the ferret's claws opened it up.
With all that movement I could have sucked some infected air into the
suit."
"I don't know. With a separate air supply it doesn't seem too likely
unless the claws carried virus inside like a hypodermic injection. It
didn't scratch you, did it?"
"A little bit, I think, but it was on a place where I couldn't see it.
I washed it with disinfectant later."
"Oh my God, what next?" I exclaimed. "But you've been having some
irregular bleeding before this. Maybe it would have happened anyway.
You don't have any signs of the flu?"
"I feel a bit stuffy and aching as if I were getting a cold."
"Well, we'll see. You rest here while I figure out what to do."
The fact that this might be the mutation we were looking for didn't
penetrate just then. All I cared about was that Pat was sick and I had
to take care of her, if possible, without a scandal. I was standing
beside the bed, my mind racing over the various possibilities when she
groaned and whispered, "John, the pain is really bad now. I think I'm
bleeding too."
I got her a couple of codeine tablets and then dialled the Chief. This
was one situation I couldn't handle myself, for obvious reasons, and I
needed someone with understanding and discretion.
He was there in less than fifteen minutes, fortunately having just
returned to the club house when I called. He heard my report. He
checked Pat himself. She was well along now and we both agreed that
there was no chance of stopping the miscarriage.
"Have you been close to many other people in the last three days?" he
asked her, looking very disturbed.
"Nobody but you and John, as far as I know," she gasped between spasms
of pain.
It was probably true. We three were working on the secret problems in
isolation during the day. Polly and Harry helped us with the procedures
that had to be done in the main lab and so were not in direct physical
contact with us. We seldom stopped work until long after the day
workers had left the Lab and were there in the morning before them.
We didn't go out for meals during the day as we had all we needed on
the top floor. I could see Hallam was concerned about the disease
getting loose. If the vaccine we had was no protection from this new
mutation, and if Pat had a case of flu it obviously wasn't, then this
new disease could raise hell among the people and maybe finish what the
Reds had started.
* * * * *
"We can't stay here, and we can't take her to a hospital," the Chief
decided. "We mustn't let this new virus get out. I'll have to take care
of her myself in the Research Lab. There are some instruments there
and we can get more if we need them." He looked down at Pat. "I'm no
obstetrician, my dear, but I think we can see you through this if you
agree."
Pat smiled tiredly. "You're a doctor, and a good one. Do what you think
best."
I had to agree even though it frightened me. I'd seen dozens of similar
cases in my earlier days as a young interne but my imagination was
too active where my own loved ones were concerned. The main danger
was sudden hemorrhage but we could easily get blood sent up to us.
Otherwise nature would probably take care of things in its own way. By
now it was after rush hour and the Lab would be empty. Once more we
let ourselves into the building and went up to the top floor, using
the elevator for Pat's sake. She could hardly walk by now, even with
our help, and it was a struggle to get her to her room. Once there we
stripped the bed down. I prepped her and draped her for delivery and
the Chief gave her intravenous demerol and a capsule of seconal. Then
we waited.
An hour later it was over. She had aborted spontaneously, and, as far
as we could tell, completely. With the assistance of a small dose of
ergot we had controlled the bleeding and the uterus was small and firm.
I checked her pulse and blood pressure. There was no sign of shock. She
lay there quietly after I had changed the linen and, as I pulled the
covers over her, she took my hand.
"I'm so sorry, John," she said weakly. "I guess I wrecked my own plans
for having your baby when I got careless with that ferret. Now I'm
probably sterile."
She began to cry silently, the big tears rolling slowly on to the
pillow.
I stroked her damp hair back from her forehead and kissed her eyes
gently. "Maybe you aren't sterile," I said hopefully, "and even if you
are it doesn't matter. I love you, and I'll always love you, whether we
have children or not."
* * * * *
"I wonder how many years we'll have to spend cooped up in here?" I
said, half-seriously to Dr. Hallam later that night. Pat was sleeping
soundly under the influence of a capsule of sodium amytal he had given
her. We had cooked a steak dinner and now we sat, weary but relieved,
over our coffee.
"Lord alone knows," he said. "We'll have to stay here now until we
see if you and I are going to catch this thing and what the effects
will be. I hope for the sake of our research project we do get it,
although I'm not happy about being a guinea pig. Even if it proves to
be a suitable weapon we still have to come up with a cure for it, or
rather a vaccine to prevent it, so our own people and our allies are
protected."
"Why include the allies?" I said, merely for the sake of argument.
"Won't that increase the risk of the Reds learning our plans?"
"It will, unless we take a calculated risk. I believe we should
manufacture vaccine and stockpile it, not to be issued until the
disease is actually causing epidemics in Russia. Then we can fly the
vaccine all over the world and let our friends use it. Some people may
catch the disease, but not too many. We might even offer some to the
Russians, to allay their suspicions, making sure it's too late to help
much."
"But don't you think they'll get wise?"
"Of course! But if we do it right I believe they won't dare to use open
aggression any more than we are doing."
"This kind of undeclared war could go on interminably, as the Cold War
seemed to do back in the Fifties," I said gloomily.
"It probably could," Hallam agreed. "Our one hope is to effect a change
in leaders, or at least in policy, in Russia. Maybe, just maybe, new
leaders will arise who will work with the democracies for a world
system of government."
"A faint hope," I said, "but I'll go to bed now before that cheerful
thought yields to glum reality."
I checked Pat before I turned in. She was resting well and I thought
she looked a little less feverish. Her head felt cooler and her pulse
was about normal. Sadly, thinking of her loss and mine, I closed the
door behind me.
* * * * *
Pat's recovery was rapid and uneventful. The following morning she got
up and had coffee with us. In a couple of days she was getting around
well although the Chief wisely insisted she rest for long periods and
absolutely refused to let her work in the Lab. Part of her restless
energy she expended on preparing tasty meals for us until we both began
to grumble about our expanding waistlines. There was no sign that the
new disease had ill effects other than what she had already suffered.
Whether or not she was sterile was a question that would have to wait.
I had no intention of putting it to the test for a good long time. To
work for the cause of science was all very well but I could see no
point in sacrificing my love to it.
The new virus was christened FS for female sterility and we re-named
the old one MS for male sterility. The new one was easy to grow. It
thrived on fertilized eggs, in ferrets, hamsters, mice and monkeys; in
every animal we could find. With passage through numerous generations
it became more virulent until, in its final form, it caused abortion in
all pregnant animals. Invariably, after recovery of the animals, our
pathologists were unable to find any developing eggs in their ovaries.
Because of their short breeding cycle we worked mainly with hamsters,
those fat little relatives of the guinea pig. Even the amazing
fertility of the hamster was stopped by the FS virus.
"It looks as if we have the answer for the Russians," I said exultantly
after we had tallied our results some weeks later.
"I'm not so sure, John, not so sure at all," Hallam said thoughtfully.
"Why is that, Sir?"
"Have you ever thought of the consequences of sterilizing every mammal
on earth, and perhaps the birds and other animals too?" he asked.
"This FS virus is powerful. If we start another pandemic it could get
away from us. It might increase in power still more, though God knows
it's bad enough. And obviously we can't inoculate every animal of all
the species it may affect even when we find the vaccine to counteract
it. We'd have to build another Noah's Ark and take it out in the middle
of the ocean to be sure we could save them from extinction."
"We have a Noah's Ark now," I suggested. "We could isolate the
Americans from Asia, Europe and Africa. Australia and New Zealand could
do the same. We are doing it for the measlepox right now until there is
enough vaccine to go around."
"That's true, although it wouldn't be difficult for the Russians to
smuggle the virus ashore. They might do it if they thought they were
licked. The dying soldier often tries to drag his enemy down with him."
"But aside from all that," he continued, "I still don't like it. Men
have wiped out some of the most beautiful and interesting creatures
of this earth. The passenger pigeon is gone. The bison is a curiosity
in National Parks. The trumpeter swan is in danger and the California
condor is on its last lap. I don't believe this world was created just
so man could ruin it, and I don't want to go down in history as the
most ruthless destroyer of all time. Oh, I know I'll be expected to
give this discovery to our politicians. The discoverers of the atomic
bomb and H-bomb did just that and their consciences have bothered them
ever since. There is a greater loyalty in this world than loyalty to
one's country ... it is loyalty to the human race. I believe in the
Golden Rule. Call it Christian logic if you wish. We have already
disturbed the balance of Creation in this world as a cancer disturbs
the human body, and, like a cancer, when we destroy too much of the
world we too may die."
"But the Russians don't live and let live," I objected. "Are you
willing to let them take over the world and perpetuate communist
doctrines?"
"It's a thought I do not like," he said very quietly, "but all through
history "isms" have grown and then have died as time passed. This
"ism" too could pass. Perhaps Gandhi was right. Passive resistance won
in India and although the Reds are much more cruel than the British
ever were, even they can't go too far. Remember the East German revolt
and the Georgian riots after the denunciation of Stalin? Remember the
horrors of Hungary? Our agents report increasing unrest in Russia
itself. The people are sick of repression and terror. Demands for
moderation are even printed in their papers. The Far Left is slowly
moving back to the middle of the road. We should go to meet it instead
of edging farther and farther to the Right, into the nightmare world of
Hitler and Mussolini."
* * * * *
"Then what are we to do? Do you want to destroy the virus?"
"I don't know. After all, you and Pat are involved in this and may not
agree."
"I know the politicians would want us to give them the information," I
said. "I'll never forget in the States during the row over the H-bomb
and Oppenheimer, how some pompous ass of a senator got up and said
he thought scientists should stick to science and leave decisions of
ethics and national policy to those who knew best--meaning himself and
those like him. Democracy is a wonderful thing but I can't see how
getting elected makes any man a sage. I honestly doubt if the ordinary
politician is as competent to judge the effects of a scientific
discovery as the scientists themselves are."
"What about democracy and the will of the majority?" Hallam countered.
"You have me there," I admitted. "I suppose if we adhere strictly to
that idea there should be a vote on whether or not to use this new
weapon, which, of course, would lose us the element of surprise. But
again, what does the ordinary man know about such things. To come right
down to it ... how often has there been a nation-wide vote in any
democratic country on whether or not to get into a war?"
"I know of none," Hallam answered, "which means of course that
essentially, in times of stress, decisions are made by a few, or even
by one man. And that brings us full circle. Shall we make the decision
now?"
"I feel somewhat like the old country doctor who taught me obstetrics,"
I said. "Whenever he was in doubt about a delivery he sat down, lit a
big cigar, and waited. Nature usually took care of things for him."
"A smart idea," said the boss. "We'll work--and wait."